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.
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!
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...
There is no engine of the oppressors that a Reductus Saboteur cannot lay low, and there are few materials they cannot fashion into an explosive given a little time to tinker. Flitting through the shadows, they lace the battlefield with booby traps and deploy powerful explosives that make short work of enemy armour.
Built to withstand the pressures and challenges of underground mining, the Goliath Rockgrinder is a devastating piece of equipment when turned to aggression.
Basking in the sheer alien glory of the patron that infected them, Acolyte Hybrids croon and hiss in the gloom.