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.
The Stormfang Gunship is designed to dominate the skies while furiously blasting apart all who would oppose the Sons of Russ.
From the Mountains of the Maelstrom come the legendary Thunderwolves, hulking beasts with jaws so strong they can chew through steel.
Having surrendered to the terrible curse that the Canis Helix afflicts, the Wulfen are a grotesque distortion of the power of the Space Wolves.
Standing three times the height of a man, these towering war machines bear powerful weapons and are as lethal at range as in close assault. A chapter's Dreadnoughts are treasured relics, only awoken in great need.
Every Space Wolves warrior dreams of a place in the Wolf Guard. To be a member of this select brotherhood is to wield the very deadliest weapons of war while serving as the personal guard of their Wolf Lord.
Viewed by some as wild, even barbaric, the Space Wolves are nonetheless a proud brethren, as noble as they are fierce. Those who dare to oppose them quickly feel the fangs of the wolf around their throats, for the Sons of Russ are dedicated to the hunt.
Daubed beneath their sinesterly hued Phobos armour with runes of warding and abjuration, Hounds of Morkai are hunters of psykers.