Belthanos leads the eternal hunt that keeps his master Kurnoth’s spirit in bloom. Cloaked in leaves and riding atop a Carnelian Greatspite made of pure life magic, he chases down those who would harm Ghyran so that his howling followers might rip them apart.
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.
Belthanos, the First Thorn of Kurnoth, leads the eternal hunt that keeps his master’s spirit in bloom. Cloaked in evergreen and riding atop a Carnelian Greatspite made of pure life magic, he chases down those who would harm Ghyran so that his howling Revenant Seeker and Kurnoth Hunter followers might rip them apart.
Technoarcheologists are seekers of divine mechanical arcana, driven to uncover that which is hidden, and to analyse its capabilities. Hardened to life on the Imperium’s dangerous frontiers, these priests employ cogitative instincts to detect approaching foes and awaken their servitor guardians to effective modes of attack. Even in the midst of battle, Technoarcheologists guide their servants through vital procedures with a machine-like focus.
The air sings with glorious life magic as the children of Alarielle surge into battle. Embittered noble spirits command the fury of the forest, hissing Branchwyches leading from the front as verdant wyldwoods burst forth from the heaving ground. Mighty wargroves advance in defence of life itself, Tree-Revenants striking without warning as relentless Kurnoth Hunters and ancient Treelords crush enemies with inexorable, arboreal strength.
The core of a Beastclaw Raiders Alfrostun, Ogors mounted on Mournfangs are always at the vanguard of a raid’s assault. Wielding clubs, blades and pistols, they’re very, very good at blocking an enemy’s attack before laying into them with wild abandon. The beasts they ride are equally fearsome, trampling to a pulp anything and everything unfortunate enough to get in the way.
The Ogor Mawtribes are nomadic empires of brutish juggernauts that range across the lands, raiding and pillaging to appease their insatiable hunger. Iron-fisted Tyrants lead young and bullish Gluttons to war as gnoblar attendants scurry about their feet, supported by roaring blasts from the salvaged cannons of Leadbelchers and Ironblasters while Mournfang riders from the Beastclaw tribes savage the enemy flanks.
Ogors Mawtribes sweep across the realms and devour all in their migratory path, juggernauts of fat and muscle who crush their prey with clubs, rusted blades, and sheer bulk. When the ogors are on the Mawpath, the ground rumbles even above their prodigious bellies. Roars, belches, and booming laughs ring out as they charge, their battering-ram impact a weapon in itself. Mighty warglutts heed the call of blood-smeared shamans, while Beastclaw Raiders ride to battle on behemoths that hail from the cursed blizzard of the Everwinter. To stand in their path is to be devoured.
A master of the wild steppes, a Frostlord leads his ogors into the battles that sustain them. Atop a Stonehorn he is virtually unstoppable, the hooves of his steed grinding enemies into paste. His booming voice directs his raiders to the most vulnerable flanks of the foe – where the Frostlord on Stonehorn rides, brutality follows.