Aktywne filtry
Warbands of the Chaos Space Marines are more often than not motley assortments of Heretic Astartes, grisly mutants, their cultist thralls. The pitiless masters callously spend the lives of the mortal warriors to buy time for the more valuable Heretic Astartes while simultaneously offering those very same Chaos Space Marines to host the Daemons of the warp.
The Chaos Space Marines have been fighting a war of vengeance for ten thousand years, sallying forth from the Eye of Terror to wreak havoc on the Imperium that spurned them. This nightmare realm of warp-tainted space corrupts them in body and mind, but also grants them power. Combined with thousands of years of combat experience, they are some of the most deadly veterans of any fighting force.
Many Chaos Space Marines contingents favour aggressive, highly mobile tactics, rushing headlong to get to grips with the foe as quickly as possible. Their skill, armour, deadly weapons, genetic enhancements, and mobs of disposable cultists make these reckless charges highly effective.
Chaos Space Marines are genetically augmented transhumans who seek only to conquer, slaughter, and despoil. Clad in baroque power armour bedecked in macabre trophies and infernal iconography, Chaos Space Marines do battle alongside growling battle tanks, monstrous Daemon Engines, and thronging masses of cultist thralls. Some are possessed by daemonic allies, others bear Chaos-tainted artefacts or wield warp sorcery. No matter what form they take, they pursue their Long War with pitiless brutality, slaughtering any who stand in their path in an ever-escalating campaign of vengeance, conquest and apocalyptic violence.
The Chaos Space Marines go to war armed with corrupted versions of the already-potent weapons and wargear they used as loyal warriors of the Imperium. They're accompanied by foul daemons, twisted war engines, and hordes of cultist thralls.
Chaos Space Marines are genetically augmented transhumans who seek only to conquer, slaughter, and despoil. They pursue their Long War with pitiless brutality, slaughtering any who stand in their path in an ever-escalating campaign of vengeance, conquest and apocalyptic violence.
Vashtorr is the Soul Forge King, a daemonic demigod of unrestrained invention and abominable artifice. When the Arkifane takes physical form, it is as a horror of pallid flesh stretched over infernal mechanisms, soaring to battle amidst a cloud of lightning and smog. Vashtorr deals destruction with every whirring step, unleashing techno gheist curses upon his foes even as he fashions enhancements for his indentured daemon engines from the raw stuff of realspace.
The Kharadron Overlords are peerless traders and dauntless explorers, sailing through the skies on marvels of technology, armed with powerful weapons unlike anything else found in the Mortal Realms. They search for aether-gold, the key to their unusual engines and the most prized commodity in the Kharadron empire.
The Kharadron Overlords rule the skies, masters of a trading empire built by grand fleets of cloud-faring vessels. Crewed by ambitious duardin who value profit above all, these wonders of artifice boast enough raw firepower to level fortresses and cripple nations – when diplomacy is found wanting, of course. Kharadron technology is fuelled by aether‑gold, and their daily lives are built around amassing as much of that arcane substance as possible. Even now, as the long-absent ancestor god Grungni reveals himself to unite the duardin races, the question remains: how can the Kharadron profit most?
Codewrights know every artycle, every amendment, and every footnote of the Kharadron Code by heart, and have a canny eye for profitable legal improvisation. These skyfaring lawyers are valued by crew and captains alike for their ability to cite obscure sections of the Code that might expedite their airfleet’s current objectives – and for their skill at concocting helpful ‘clarifications’ on the fly.
Chaos Cultists are the mortal devotees of the Dark Gods, ordinary men and women fallen to promises of temporal power who take to battle in huge numbers. Bearing a motley collection of improvised, stolen and makeshift weapons, they can overwhelm even determined enemies with sheer weight of numbers.
Haarken Worldclaimer takes a heinous joy in his role as the mouthpiece of Abaddon, for it is he who proclaims the death of worlds. He does so not with some quotidian threat or hollow boast, but by driving his weapon, the Daemon-touched Helspear deep into the heart of citizen and soldier alike. He is a dark omen given form, and the otherworldly destruction he heralds is the coming of the Warmaster himself.