Aktywne filtry
All dread the coming of the Blades of Khorne – an unholy alliance of mortals and daemons for whom war is an act of worship. These maddened warbands leave no survivors in their wake, making them instead an offering to their bloodthirsty god. In return, Khorne grants them strength and resilience so that they may reap even more skulls for his Skull Throne.
Realmgore Ritualists curse both the enemies of Khorne and the land itself. These bloody-handed mystagogues lay blasphemous hexes upon the foe to sap their strength, and carve bleeding runes into the very earth, invoking gorey miracles and auras of rage that drive their allies to commit relentless acts of sacred violence.
Howling like maddened beasts, the Blades of Khorne hurl themselves upon their prey. These savage killers seek to honour the Blood God by drowning the Mortal Realms in a tide of gore. Armies of scarred and wild-eyed mortals fight alongside daemons born of primal fury, surging forth as one vast and unstoppable red tide. Those in the path of this calamity are swiftly hacked and hewn apart, their severed heads held aloft as offerings to the Lord of Skulls.
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.
Bloodpelt Hunters seek out the largest and most formidable creatures, stalking them unseen with the guile and ferocity of an alpha predator. When their quarry is within reach, these alarmingly stealthy ogors close in for the kill, maiming it with crude iron crossbow bolts before hacking it apart with axes and machetes.
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.
Atalan Jackals are fourth generation Neophytes who form the outriders of their gene-sect. They roam the corners of the host planet in search of new regions for their cult to infest.
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 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!