Aktywne filtry
Grimhold Exiles are the survivors of fallen magmaholds, warriors who fight to honour their lost kin with each blazing hammer-strike. So inspiring and tragic are these individuals, they are often accompanied by a band of dedicated warriors from other magmaholds who proudly follow them into battle.
The galaxy is in flames. The Emperor’s glorious vision for Humanity is in ruins and His armies are locked in a brutal civil war. The greatest of these bitter combatants are the towering god-engines of the Adeptus Titanicus. Take control of these awe-inspiring war machines in Adeptus Titanicus – the tabletop game of devastating combat set during the Horus Heresy.
The Typhon is named for the ‘Great Beast’ of Terran myth, and lives up to its namesake in sheer brutal strength. Sharing a basic chassis with the Spartan Assault Tank, this heavy tank serves as a mobile gun-platform with enough power to operate a single massive piece of siege artillery – the dreadhammer cannon. The Typhon was created to meet the demands of the Primarch Perturabo of the Iron Warriors, who sought a war engine that could rapidly deploy such fortress-breaking firepower to the battle line alongside his Legionaries. Though unsubtle in design, its overwhelming effectiveness is beyond question.
The daemonic servants of Khorne spill from the madness of the warp to corrupt and slaughter, the very battlefield contorting at the touch of Chaos. Gore-drenched Bloodletters hack heads from shoulders, led into the material plane by Bloodmasters, the greatest of their ravenous kind. Mounted atop the infernal engine-beasts known as Juggernauts, a charge by merciless Bloodcrushers breaks the most stalwart resistance, while tireless Flesh Hounds pursue any who flee across time and space.
The lives of the Fyreslayers revolve around battle, for these grizzled duardin mercenaries will fight on behalf of any who meet their price in gold. Renowned for their fearsome tempers and unrivalled martial skills, the Fyreslayers seek treasure to gather the essence of their long-lost deity, Grimnir. Inspired by Battlesmiths bellowing the deeds of their forebears, stalwart Hearthguard warriors and unyielding Vulkite Berzerkers charge into battle, craving glory and gold alike.
Auric Runesmiters are war priests of unrivalled power and renown amongst the Fyreslayers, channeling the spirit of Grimnir into the lodge's warriors through ur-gold runes. Mounted atop a fearsome Magmadroth, a Runesmiter tears their way into the heart of battle in a wave of sacred flame, incinerating gathered foes even as they imbue their kin with uncanny strength and resilience.
Infernal Masters forge pacts with daemonic entities, referred to in the lore of Prospero as tutelaries. Chanting jagged syllables and making promises of blood and souls, they unleash the powers of these malign familiars to engulf their foes in swarms of momentarily corporeal terrors, to divine whispers of the future, or to master the currents of the warp itself.
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 air screams as Magnus the Red descends from the skies, and stone runs molten beneath his shadow. Cyclopean son of the Emperor of Mankind, his very presence is anathema to logic.
Twisted arcanists, wicked of intent and strange of form, Exalted Sorcerers have an encyclopædic knowledge of spells and are able to bend reality to their desires.
Scarab Occult Terminators were once the finest psykers in the Thousand Sons Legion, bodyguards to Magnus the Red himself. Reduced to dust along with their brethren, they now possess only an echo of their previous intellect.
Stepping out from the fog of war come the Rubricae. Many of these undying warriors were psykers in their own right, before an ancient curse damned them to an eternity as living husks – their baroque power armour now contains nothing but sparkling dust.