With outlawed knowledge of the deeper mysteries of the machine, Warpsmiths maintain their warband’s arsenal of armoured vehicles, empowering engines with utterances of corrupted code. Fused with a writhing nest of semi-sentient mechatendrils, they seek not only to employ technology for their diabolical ends, but to subjugate it entirely.
Dark Communes are the pooling evil at the head of any Chaos Cult, led by Cult Demagogues who preach insidious mantras cunningly laced with promises of power. These infernal priests command a retinue of devoted followers – the fanatical Blessed Blades, tasked with guarding against interlopers, the Iconarchs, who carry foul sigils infused with malefic influence, and Mindwitches, unsanctioned psykers whose powers comes at a terrible cost.
Chaos Cultists are the mortal devotees of the Dark Gods, ordinary men and women fallen to promises of temporal power. Under the command of mighty heretic warlords, such fanatics take to the field in huge Cultist Mobs. This blasphemous militia charges headlong into battle with a motley collection of improvised, stolen and makeshift weapons, overwhelming even determined enemies through sheer weight of numbers.
The Genestealer Cults erupt from the shadows in a tide of xenos-worshipping acolytes, employing ambush and subterfuge to outmanoeuvre their enemies. Utterly immersed in Tyranid gene-taint, the cult's Neophyte Hybrids and more mutated Acolyte Hybrids rise up against their oppressors, armed with a variety of repurposed industrial equipment – from powerful mining lasers to heavy machinery like the Goliath Rockgrinder. Guided by the insidious psychic presence of a Magus, the misshapen Aberrants lope from the shadows to reinforce their kin, swinging crushing mauls to deadly effect.
For ten thousand years, the Chaos Space Marines have waged near-constant war on the galaxy that cast them out. Once the defenders of humanity, the Heretic Astartes have pledged themselves to the Dark Gods. Led by maniacal leaders such as the fanatical Dark Apostle, bitter warbands of Chaos Space Marines roam the battlefield, armed with an array of vicious weapons. Barricades and defenders alike are torn asunder by the devastating heavy armaments wielded by Havocs – and the frenzied swipes of a lumbering Helbrute.
For centuries beyond counting has the race of malevolent ratmen known as the skaven plagued the Mortal Realms. Arrogant, avaricious and utterly without mercy, the skaven seek to annihilate every other sapient creature – expanding, multiplying, and consuming everything in their path until they alone rule over the decaying husk of reality. Those who defy this vision are overwhelmed by swarms of frenzied, red-eyed warriors, weaponized plagues, monstrous beasts and lightning-spitting war machines. Arise, Children of the Great Horned Rat!
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.
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...
Resplendent in gleaming gold, the Adeptus Custodes stride into war with the confidence earned through ten millennia of martial superiority. Bullets and shrapnel ricochet from gilded auramite breastplates – these warriors are armoured with the finest wargear, carrying the blessing of the God-Emperor Himself. When combined with the peerless anti-psychic protection provided by the Sisters of Silence, there are few in the galaxy who can withstand them.
The Aeldari once ruled the galaxy, before their civilisation collapsed beneath the weight of its own hedonism. Now the Asuryani sail the stars aboard massive vessels called craftworlds, their citizens keeping to highly disciplined Paths to avoid drowning in the same decadent madness as their ancestors. Each craftworld's Guardians take up arms to defend their dying race, wielding deadly shuriken catapults or power blades, or shredding foes atop their swift Windrider jetbikes.
The Thousand Sons advance into battle amidst gouts of kaleidoscopic warpflame and bolts of raw sorcery. The heart of these arcane armies is comprised of Rubricae – implacable warriors who level salvo after salvo against the foe, marching at the command of the mighty Sorcerers and diabolic Infernal Masters who rule their fractured Legion. Around them come shrieking herds of Tzaangor, mutant shock troops armed with cursed blades and dark sorcery.
The most mysterious of the Emperor’s servants, the Grey Knights are a unique Chapter of Space Marines. Each is an elite warrior-mystic, clad in sigil-scribed power armour and wielding archaic weapons through which they channel their otherworldly abilities.