Aktywne filtry
Daggok Finksteala is on a murderous mission to decapitate the brightest and best fighters within the Deathgorge. With each head he takes, his kunnin' increases – or so he believes – and he means to gather enough smarts to make him a Killaboss. His warband, da Stab-Ladz, shares his vision and assists him in his underhanded ambushes with their savagery and kunnin'.
The ice-coated tunnels of the Deathgorge contain untold treasures frozen within their walls. Those brave enough to traverse the freezing continent of Bjarl and weather the Everwinter's curse must still battle rival warbands to have any hope of claiming these riches. The Malevolent Masks lay long-forgotten in the depths of Bjarl. Lost for centuries, they have now been discovered in the glacial chasms of the Deathgorge. Donning them grants the bearer power, but often at a cost, as few truly realise the consequences of wearing such an item.
The Adeptus Mechanicus march to war as a disturbing fusion of flesh and machine, ruling Tech-Priests and fanatical cyborg followers raising modified voices in binharic praise of the Machine God. Purge Corps Deltic-9 are equipped to scour the contamination of enemy presence from locations of strategic or exploratory importance, employing cybernetic speed and terrifying weapons. Cavalry and winged Pteraxii unleash gouts of purging flame, before radioactive Skitarii bring up the rear to reclaim whatever remains.
A Sydonian Skatros is a sinister cybernetic sentinel, stoic and unmoving until the moment an enemy strays into range of their huge rifle. Mechanical, stilt-like limbs allow them to traverse hazardous terrain and survey the environment, shrouded by a smog of incense-exhaust. With protocol-driven precision and an advanced scanner known as the achillan eye, they lock on to their foes’ weakpoints and unleash pinpoint fire that sows panic and agony – all the better for eroding enemy morale.
The Adeptus Mechanicus are the fanatical worshippers of the Machine God of Mars. For thousands of years the robed priests of the Machine Cult have presided over the fabrication, maintenance, and preservation of Humanity’s surviving technological wonders with reverence and ritual. Led by Tech-Priests whose weak organic flesh has been replaced with metallic augmentations, their armies fight to defend forge worlds and strike out across the galaxy in search of ancient archeotech.
The Tech-Priests of Mars march forth at the head of cybernetic legions, protected by barely understood relics of a bygone era, and wielding devastating and bizarre weapons to obliterate their foes.
The ultimate competitive miniatures game brings the action to the frozen continent of Bjarl, in the Warhammer Underworlds: Deathgorge Core Set. This box is stuffed with everything you need to start playing, including two complete warbands, four decks of cards, dice, tokens, boards, and more.
The diseased skaven of Skabbik’s Plaguepack plan to usher in the birth of one of the Great Plagues – an apocalyptic disease prophecised amongst the fanatical verminkin of the Clans Pestilens. Their foulsome quest has taken the Plaguepack deep into the heart of Wyrdhollow, to seek one of the arcane ingredients in this foul brew. Should Skabbik's noisome flock succeed in their task, great swathes of the Mortal Realms may be reduced to rancid rotting mulch. Let their enemies beware – a sickening death awaits any who stand against the children of the Great Corruptor.
The Headsmen’s Curse has come. Nothing shall stay the bite of the dread blade Terminus, for it was fashioned long ago by Nagash himself, and has a vile sentience of its own. Damned souls surround it, bound to serve as judge, jury and executioner. Their former identities are subsumed into the greatsword’s necromantic magic; always there is one to wield the blade, one to sharpen its edge, one to bear the headsman’s block, and a scriptor to sentence the condemned. No matter the crime against the Supreme Necromancer, the sentence is always the same – Death!
The Headsmen’s Curse has come. Nothing shall stay the bite of the dread blade Terminus, for it was fashioned long ago by Nagash himself, and has a vile sentience of its own. Damned souls surround it, bound to serve as judge, jury and executioner. Their former identities are subsumed into the greatsword’s necromantic magic; always there is one to wield the blade, one to sharpen its edge, one to bear the headsman’s block, and a scriptor to sentence the condemned. No matter the crime against the Supreme Necromancer, the sentence is always the same – Death!
A curious affliction has been observed in Wyrdhollow – The energy from loosed Realmshaper Engines is striking living creatures and altering them to some unknown purpose. More sinister still, those affected appear to lose their volition, becoming vessels for a power and will not their own. While little is known about these emotionless Voidcursed Thralls, what is certain is that they are entirely devoted to their mysterious cause, forgoing sleep, safety, and in some cases survival. Those who seek to prevent or defeat them risk falling prey to the same cosmic hex, their flesh being slowly claimed by the star-dotted blackness of the Void itself, until they are little more than silhouettes.
Magic courses through the root-lined halls of the Wyrdhollow, deep beneath the carnivorous Gnarlwood forest. The hellish creatures that make up Ephilim's Pandaemonium seek to harness these arcane energies, and only Domitan's Stormcoven of knightly war-mages stands in their way. Fight through the warped caverns to secure the Wyrdhollow's eldritch power for yourself.