Clanrats mass into huge clawpacks, their vast numbers bolstering their courage and allowing them to surge across the battlefield and overwhelm the enemy, regardless of the hideous casualties they suffer along the way.
Lelith Hesperax’s athleticism is far beyond those of other Wyches. She has raised death to a high art, wielding nothing more than simple knives. Gifting her victims with precise wounds in a blur of blade and flesh, she finishes in a bloody finale with a gory flourish.
Gibbering nonsense with lunatic energy the luminescent Pink Horrors whirl and flail their arms, generating raw magic that fills the air. En masse, the Pink Horrors give rise to so much arcane force that they can hurl blasts of unnatural fire at the enemy.
Casting vindictive glares at their enemies and blasting them apart with mystical fire, Blue Horrors are as resentful and bitter as their pink cousins are gleeful and capricious.
Driven into battle by their frenzied faith, the Plague Monks of Clan Pestilens are a repulsive tidal wave of filth that smashes into their enemies with the power of a flood.
In Drazhar, the Incubi ideal of violent perfection is exquisitely personified. His every strike exemplifies the tenets of his order, and each life he claims serves as a gruesome liturgy for his dark brethren.
Warriors of the Kabals form the beating heart of each Drukhari strike force. They are the cruellest and most rapacious of their caste, hungry for power and thirsty for the suffering of others.
In the craft of murder, Wyches have no equal. In battle, Wyches feed upon screams of pain.
The Drukhari rely heavily on surprise and raw speed, and hence their skycraft are all fast and manoeuvrable.
A Curseling is a powerful warrior-mage imbued with daemonic power through a conjoined, spell-moulding homunculus known as a Tretchlet. Important leaders of rituals in Arcanite cults, these two-faced sorcerers love nothing more than turning the magics of their rivals back upon those who cast them.
Deathmasters are the greatest assassins of the Clans Eshin, trained in the shadowy arts of stealth and contracted to slay those whom influential skaven deem too dangerous to live. Armed with poisoned ‘weeping blades’ and toxin-laced throwing stars, these supernaturally dextrous killers have slain kings and warlords beyond count.
Bounding in a disturbing fashion, Flamers of Tzeentch spring toward the foe spouting wyrdflame, the warpfire of Chaos itself. The supernatural flames writhe and leer, but most of all they burn, scorching the foe’s flesh, bones and soul.