Aktywne filtry
Stormcast Eternals are each forged in Azyr by Sigmar's own hand. Riding thunderbolts, they arrive on the battlefield with an ear-splitting thunderclap, ready to face the forces of Chaos, Death and Destruction.
Ionus Cryptborn is a living legend, descending like a silent shadow over the most beleaguered of battlefields. His prayers are capable of calling down wicked maelstroms of lightning that can smash through sieges, and electrocute armies.
Belthanos leads the eternal hunt that keeps his master Kurnoth’s spirit in bloom. Cloaked in leaves and riding atop a Carnelian Greatspite made of pure life magic, he chases down those who would harm Ghyran so that his howling followers might rip them apart.
Belthanos, the First Thorn of Kurnoth, leads the eternal hunt that keeps his master’s spirit in bloom. Cloaked in evergreen and riding atop a Carnelian Greatspite made of pure life magic, he chases down those who would harm Ghyran so that his howling Revenant Seeker and Kurnoth Hunter followers might rip them apart.
Ionus Cryptborn is a living legend who descends like a silent shadow over the most beleaguered battlefields on the back of his terrifying Draconith, Cthorak. Accompanying him into battle are his Stormwing – a pair of mighty Stormdrake Guard who ride their own impressive Draconith mounts. When a host of mighty Draconith, such as these, take flight, they unleash the most righteous fury of Sigmar.
From scions of the Dark Gods to marauding orruk warlords, threats to Sigmar’s people lurk in every corner of the realms. Neave Blacktalon, the God-King’s foremost assassin, is tasked with puting down these fell champions. In battle, Neave travels upon winds of magic to unleash storms of never-ending axe blows. Fighting alongside her are the Blacktalons, a band of tightly knit companions, each a warrior of deadly renown.
The Hedonites of Slaanesh revel in suffering, and worship their absent deity by engaging in the most vile acts imaginable. Empowered by depravity and addicted to extremes of sensation, the servants of the Dark Prince are a scourge on the realms. Each warband is an unpredictable and quixotic terror, guided by diabolical whims as they conquer and pillage.
Lords of Hubris are utterly enamoured with their own magnificence, strutting peacocks who swagger into battle, loudly demanding that the enemy’s finest face them in single combat. Those foolish enough to answer this challenge are cut to ribbons in a matter of seconds, for these champions have honed their bladework to perfection, and are accompanied by only the most elite Slaaneshi warriors.
The Hedonites of Slaanesh cavort across the realms in vile carnivals of sin and excess, seeking the scent of their absent deity, the Dark Prince. Those who find themselves in the path of these raiders are destined to die a slow and painful death, for the Hedonites are sensation-seekers without compare, utterly dedicated to indulging their sadistic desires upon the battlefield. Hosts of majestic, sinuous daemons slice a contemptuous path through the enemy, while silk-draped mortals seek to inflict the most exquisite agonies imaginable, the tormented soul of each slain foe offered up as tribute to their cruel master.
The air sings with glorious life magic as the children of Alarielle surge into battle. Embittered noble spirits command the fury of the forest, hissing Branchwyches leading from the front as verdant wyldwoods burst forth from the heaving ground. Mighty wargroves advance in defence of life itself, Tree-Revenants striking without warning as relentless Kurnoth Hunters and ancient Treelords crush enemies with inexorable, arboreal strength.
Only the bold dare enter the Gnarlwood, a deadly forest where the very trees uproot themselves to feast upon the flesh of living. Yet glory and riches await those few who can endure this hellish environment, for at the heart of the forest lies Talaxis, the legendary Ravening Ruin, its shattered vaults filled with a thousand artefacts of incalculable power. From the deranged plague-alchemists of the Rotmire Creed to the fanatical demolishers of the Horns of Hashut, warbands from across the realms seek to claim these priceless treasures – and will gladly slaughter anyone that stands in their way.
A breed of forest spirit only recently-emerged into the ranks of the Sylvaneth, the Gossamid Archers are afforded the power of flight by the zephyrwing spites that clasp their torsos. With impressive speed and mobility, the Archers fly to wherever they're needed on the battlefield, swooping low to shoot at the enemy and evading counter-assaults with a swarm of insectile distractions. A gruesome fate awaits any struck by the shafts fired by these symbiotic skirmishers – the arrowheads contain voracious grubs that devour the target from within.