Kill Team: Fellgor Ravagers

Ratlings are snipers and spotters without peer in the Astra Militarum – these abhumans are small in stature, and unusually sneaky. They often operate behind enemy lines, reporting on targets of interest and neutralising choice targets with extreme prejudice.

The Death Guard form armies in the same way a wound clots with scabrous growths – the lumbering warriors clump together until a leader directs them where they need to go. A Lord of Poxes walks at the forefront, noxious fumes pumping from the turbine at their back, and the army follows. Heavy machines churn the earth into bilious mud, and swollen, corrupted Space Marines squelch through it....

The Death Guard advance amidst rolling smog, spore-thick fumes, and whirling flies. Blessed by the Plague God Nurgle, these mutated warriors are incredibly resilient, their diseased bodies bloated with unclean flesh and melded to the plates of their hulking battle armour. They wield plague-ridden weapons that unleash the grim powers of alchemy, sorcery, and supernatural contagion to wither and...

The Death Guard trudge forwards in a filthy tide of decaying ceramite, bloated flesh, and festering pustules. Their numbers are made up of fallen Space Marines, but also scampering daemons, shuffling Poxwalkers, and other lost souls. Woe betide any foe who must face them, for they face their own mortality.