Aktywne filtry
The underhive of Necromunda is a close and brutal place, where short-range gunflights take place as fighters dart between cover, and brutal melee combat is almost impossible to escape from.
Devoted to endless slaughter, the World Eaters are fanatical worshippers of Khorne – led by their bestial Daemon Primarch, Angron. These fearsome Space Marines are augmented by strange devices known as the Butcher’s Nails, which are embedded in their brainstems and hammer relentlessly at their minds, driving them to deeds of unmatched brutality. The Nails push their wearers to madness, compounded over many millennia by the influence of the warp and the macabre rituals of the World Eaters Legion.
Necromunda is a world of mines, factories, refineries, and processing plants. The planet is a vast powerhouse of industry, making thousands and thousands of different items for use throughout nearby planetary systems.
Angron is the Red Angel, Lord of the World Eaters, the Daemon Primarch of Khorne. Raised as a slave in the brutal fighting pits of Nuceria, this maddened demigod sought glorious death in the battles of the Horus Heresy – only to be damned to an eternity of undying rage. For ten thousand years he has savaged the Imperium, fury given immortal form, the butchers of the XII Legion following in his bloody wake. When he steps forth into realspace, Angron is an unstoppable engine of destruction with the strength to tear apart bastions with his bare hands and stop Titans in their tracks. His very presence drives those around him into a frenzy of wrath and fear, as he carves his way through entire armies in a whirlwind of apocalyptic bloodshed.
Scions of their Primarch Angron, Daemon Prince of Khorne, the World Eaters were amongst the most feared of the Space Marines Legions to turn traitor during the brutal civil war known as the Horus Heresy. The World Eaters long held a reputation for wanton savagery, and as they fell to the powers of Chaos, they devolved into warbands of blood-crazed maniacs dedicated to the Taker of Skulls, glorying in violence and slaughter, and with no other purpose than spilling blood in their deity's name.
The greatest of Tzeentch’s daemons, the Lords of Change shimmer with raw magic. With a flick of its claw, a Lord of Change can hurl foes into nightmares, or blast enemies with the wyrdfires of Tzeentch.
The worshippers of the Changer of the Ways seek to reshape the Mortal Realms, twisting it into forms more pleasing to their fickle god. Sorcerously-gifted Magisters lead chanting Kairic Acolytes to war alongside braying Tzaangor herds and conjured daemonic entities, leaving a trail of destruction and madness in their wake.
The skaven are a race of perfidious ratfolk who gnaw on the very fabric of existence, pouring from their Under-Empire in teeming swarms to spread corruption and conquer the Mortal Realms in the name of the Great Horned Rat. Led by maniacal Grey Seers, great seething hordes of Clanrats scurry to war, joined by hulking mutant Stormfiends bristling with esoteric weaponry, and unstable Warp Lightning Cannons that can obliterate entire regiments – if they don't destroy themselves first...
Horrific examples of pure pestilence given form, Verminlord Corruptors live up to their name, existing only to despoil and corrupt.
The ash wastes of Necromunda are an unforgiving environment, utterly deadly for those who can't take shelter from the toxic storms and rabid fauna. Gangs that operate in the Great Equatorial Wastes, and the Ash Waste Nomads who call them home, use Thatos Pattern Hab Modules for protection and communication. The largest of these structures are the Extended Hab Modules, which are often claimed by the most important gang members and reserved as a base of operations.
The Guild of Coin rules the roads of Necromunda. They transport material between hives and, for a hefty price, they'll even smuggle weapons and people. Crossing the arid, violent, and irradiated ash wastes is a risky business, so the guild employs convoys of Cargo-8 Rideghaulers. These hulking vehicles are perfect for traversing the dunes thanks to their massive wheels and sturdy engines, hauling trailers of armoured containers and transport carriages across the Great Equatorial Wastes, but their true appeal comes from their modularity – it takes little effort to outfit one with enough guns to make it a mobile fortress, ready to repel gang ambushes and raids.
The Zone Mortalis is literally "the deadly ground" – short-range gunflights take place as fighters dart between cover, and brutal melee is almost impossible to escape from. Even in such a lethal environment, a gang needs somewhere to live.