Nekrosor Ammentar has rallied the destroyer cults to rise up against the living. They surge forward with grim resolve to annihilate any who would dare stand against them.
When the Maggotkin of Nurgle fight, they do so to honour the God of Plagues. Every vector of corruption is a prayer, and every victim they take down is an offering to Grandfather Nurgle.
The Maggotkin of Nurgle go to war as a tide of filth, rusty armour, and distended flesh. Surrounded by clouds of flies, they march forward relentlessly, closing ranks until they're close enough to unleash their pox-blessed weapons.
Inexorably, the befouled armies of the Maggotkin march upon the lands, sowing despair and disease. Servants of the Plague God Nurgle, they desire only to share his ‘gifts’ and propagate his virulent Garden.
Ozostium Aranthus has claimed rulership of Necromunda. However, Lady Haera Helmawr has allied with her brother Tamino to recover a weapon capable of ending even an undying Aranthian – a Sthenian-pattern Spyrer Suit.
The constructs of the Canoptek Circle swarm through a Necron Tomb World as their inhabitants slumber, maintaining the strange machines in perpetuity, and rising to its defence if anyone dares to enter uninvited.
The Space Marines of the Deathwatch tirelessly take on the most dire xenos threats, tackling missions that require both their expertise and specialist equipment.
The Tomb Kings loved nothing more than constructing grand tombs for their royalty that could also function as Blood Bowl stadiums – what better way to honour the dead than playing sports on their grave!
Tomb Kings teams have been playing the game longer than most races were even aware that it existed, and they're keen to show these upstarts how it's meant to be done.
The richest nobles of Bretonnia make their homes in the many castles that dot the land, the courtyards of which have been converted into Blood Bowl pitches where Knightley teams train.
Bretonnian teams play by a strict code of honour, and despite not being able to cheat, they excel on the pitch due to their training, heavy armour, and desire to win glory for the Lady!
Through choking ash and beneath burning skies, the Helsmiths of Hashut march. Long ago, these duardin sold their souls to a tyrannical god for survival – and power.
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