Chaos marine codex pdf 8th download

This shopping feature will continue to load items. Kinks from the Index: rule books have been straightened out, new mission objectives have been created, plus other nice bits like command abilities and special upgrades.

Their only additional troop type was an enslaved alien race, the Zoat. Games Workshop did not produce a 7th edition of a Tyranids Codex. The Tyranids are unlike any other race to be encountered by Humanity. They are the ultimate predators; to them all living things, from the lowliest insect to the most advanced civilization, are mere prey. However, his stoicism and patience saw his Legion relegated to the shadows of the Great Crusade.

Those shadows were to darken, and corrupt the Legion beyond recovery. The Iron Warriors see themselves as titans of old who are loose in the universe, acting as they please in the knowledge that no natural or man-made law can stop them. They honour the Chaos Gods as a pantheon, but are not truly devout themselves. Their greatest loyalty is to their Primarch, Perturabo, whom they believe saved them from being sacrificed by the False Emperor.

The Iron Warriors are the most heavily armed of the Traitor Legions; as siege specialists, they rely less on close combat and more on withering salvoes of fire. Even when fighting outside their strongholds their approach remains the same, with great importance being placed on detailed fire plans.

They are adept at quickly erecting formidable battlefield fortifications, establishing strongpoints that will tie down the enemy and thereby allow the Iron Warriors reserves to achieve superiority elsewhere.

As with their Primarch these traitors are methodical and thorough, always seeking to grind down their opponents by attrition until the moment comes when they can be swept away in a concerted attack. When they were loyal to the Emperor, the Iron Warriors had a reputation for being fearsomely efficient and capable. Not for them the grandiose heroism of their brother Legions, nor the quest for glory that would resonate down the ages.

Instead the Iron Warriors were pragmatic and cold in the execution of their duty, seeing the pursuance of excellence and the craftsmanship of war as reward in itself. This was an echo of the philosophy held by Perturabo, a Primarch with the mind of a genius but the temperament of a recluse.

A master artisan, Perturabo crafted wars with the same methodical approach and attention to detail with which he crafted the intricate inventions that decorated his sanctums. Content to rule alone, he often spurned the company of his brothers — even in battle he had been known to fight not with his fellow warriors, but with the towering robots known collectively as the Iron Circle.

The pursuance of crafting the perfect war was put aside in the name of duty time and again, for in Perturabo, the Emperor had a commander who would enact any duty without complaint, no matter how gruelling or unsavoury. In quickly and effectively completing every task assigned to them, the Iron Warriors became the recipients of those missions no other Legion wished to undertake.

Where the likes of Sanguinius and Fulgrim won glory under the golden rays of alien paradise worlds, Perturabo and his Legion slogged through muddy hinterlands of perpetual gloom.

Spiked oubliettes and labyrinthine dungeons pierce the world to its core, and bastions cover it like fungi. This planetsized stronghold is the domain of the Primarch Perturabo — reincarnated as a mighty Daemon Prince by the Ruinous Powers that guide him, he has become a being of inconceivable destructive power whose warp-infused hammer, Forgebreaker, can shatter the rockcrete walls of a fortress with a single blow.

Countless warbands of the Iron Warriors have used Medrengard as their base of operations for centuries, plotting as to how to crush and imprison their enemies, the Imperial Fists foremost amongst them.

Now is the time for those plans to come to fruition. Great Khan refused to split their Legions, Perturabo obediently garrisoned those fortresses his Legion had built as they brought ever more worlds into compliance.

Was the Emperor taking Perturabo for a fool? Instead of offering the hardpressed loyalists respite, the bunkers and bastions proved to be their graveyards, as the Iron Warriors mercilessly gunned down anything that moved within range. With the booming rattle of heavy bolters and the slicing beams of lascannons, the Iron Warriors declared for Horus. After Isstvan, the Iron Warriors were let loose. On many worlds, their Warsmiths replaced governors and tithes were paid to the new masters under the shadow of fortified battlements.

The Iron Warriors split up to fight on a dozen other worlds in the Heresy. They fought on Vanaheim, reducing its armoured hive cities to twisted ruins one after the other. They battled across Thranx and Avellorn, worlds where every scrap of ground is covered by plasteel and rockcrete.

They struck at loyalist fortresses, temples, keeps and palaces across the galaxy and ground them beneath the tracks of their siege tanks. There the Iron Warriors found a sublime pleasure in tearing down the edifices of the Imperium. Wherever the Iron Warriors fought, they raised great citadels in their wake.

Fields of trenches and forests of razor wire surrounded the strongholds of the Iron Warriors, such that the loyalists began to dread the bloody assaults needed to destroy them.

The rest of the Legion defended the small empire they had built centred around their home world of Olympia, but there was no refuge from the retribution of the loyalist Legions. The Imperial Fists supported the Ultramarines in a decade-long campaign to liberate the subjugated worlds. They discovered the Iron Warriors to be a barbed hook that, once embedded into a victim, could only be removed with great risk of further injury.

The Olympia garrison held out for two years, eventually triggering their missile stockpiles when defeat was unavoidable. They left a blasted wasteland that, like the other Traitor Legion home worlds, was declared perditas. The surviving Iron Warriors were driven into the Eye of Terror, where they took a world for their own: the impossible fortress of Medrengard. The death toll taken by Legions such as the World Eaters or the Black Legion is likely higher, for the Iron Warriors believe in attacks long-planned and painstakingly executed, but when they strike, they do so with such calculated and unremitting savagery that nothing can survive.

Perturabo hears its echo in the warp. Within a week, Cornucopeon is infested by locomotive-sized Daemon Engines that burrow through the planet like maggots gnawing through an apple. They rise up under Steelstone Keep itself, erupting in geysers of magma to disgorge Iron Warriors from their fleshmetal bellies. When the Iron Warriors leave from the hive spires, the only evidence of the uprising is a metallic mountain filled with cooling igneous rock. In his cups, he is much given to boast that his home planet is unassailable.

Agents of the Alpha Legion relay this claim to their Iron Warriors brothers, and before long Lord Mandrakk has made warp translation in-system at the head of a large fleet. Mandrakk bombards it from orbit whilst launching boarding actions against every craft bound for Inviolus.

Within the year the people of Inviolus are crippled by starvation. The planet is seized and repurposed as a Chaos base. It infects metal construct and mortal body alike, turning one to the other and blending warriors with their weapons and wargear until only sentientmetal machine-things remain. After the resultant conflicts, known as the Wars of Flesh, the nihilistic Cult of Destruction proliferates massively.

Obliterators and Mutilators join the ranks of the Iron Warriors in ever greater numbers. The first wave, led by King Dontros, scales one flank of the Spite, only to find its upper reaches infested by Heldrakes. The Knights fight bravely, but the Daemon Engines attack in such numbers they are toppled into the sea or ripped apart. Temporia Emerges In a feat of engineering only the truly insane could devise, the Dark Mechanicum stronghold world of Temporia is dragged out of the Eye of Terror by an armada of gravitic tugs and possessed haulers.

The Grand Siege Begins Having studied the Imperial defences of Segmentum Obscurus in detail via a combination of remote scrying, methodically applied torture of captive loyalists and a network of techno-cultist informants, Perturabo learns much of their capabilities and limitations. When Cadia finally falls and the Cicatrix Maledictum splits the galaxy from end to end, the Daemon Primarch mobilises a thousand armies and coordinates them in a grand strategy that targets the most heavily defended Imperial worlds in the segmentum.

So begins a brutal blockade of the Imperium itself. They care little for trophies and embellishments, instead preferring to prove their strength and prowess through acts of largescale destruction.

Though each warband wears markings of allegiance to their champion, these are scoured off and repainted whenever circumstance dictates that a change of loyalty would be advantageous.

Darnoch Polaid, Veteran of the gruelling Siege of the Loathenhold Beneath their armour, many Iron Warriors have cybernetic limbs and organs, and are often wired directly into their battle gear so as to more closely commune with its twisted machine spirits.

Some join body and soul with their wargear, either because the twisting power of the empyrean shapes them into reflections of their obsessions, or because they have contracted the dreaded Technovirus of the Cults of Destruction.

Gornoth the Unbending, Thrice-Forged in the Baleful Furnace Corprax the Wall-breaker The Iron Warriors value the psychological impact that their grotesque wargear and monstrous size has upon their enemies. Many are the foes whose nerve has broken at the sight of such a daemonic gathering of armoured monstrosities massing around their beleaguered stronghold and baying to get in. Since the Legion followed their Primarch Perturabo into heresy, they have turned this skill towards the destruction of Imperial worlds.

With cold-blooded relentlessness and the thunder of heavy artillery, they level the greatest strongholds of Mankind and reduce to ashes those who seek to oppose them. Their Primarch, Konrad Curze — later known as Night Haunter — grew up on the mining planet of Nostramo, a world shielded from its sun by a huge moon, which consequently rested in almost perpetual darkness.

The days on Nostramo were only slightly lighter than the pitch-black nights, giving the inhabitants of the planet a deathly grey pallor. His methods were simple, vicious and direct: if you broke his law, you died.

There was no appeal — Night Haunter was judge, jury and executioner. The Great Crusade finally reached even this dark world, and the Master of Mankind was reunited with Curze. Night Haunter was placed in command of the Night Lords, who quickly gained a reputation for ruthless efficiency and an almost cynical disregard for human life.

Soon, stories began to circulate of large-scale massacres and brutal atrocities being committed by the Night Lords, some under the supervision of the Primarch himself, until finally the Emperor was forced to recall Night Haunter to answer the charges that had been made against him and those under his command.

But the Horus Heresy erupted before Night Haunter could return, and it quickly became apparent that all of the charges against him and the Night Lords were true. Night Haunter had no hesitation in joining Horus against the man he started to see as a weak-willed hypocrite. Operating from a planet deep in the wilderness area of space known as the Eastern Fringe, he led the Night Lords on a campaign of terror and genocide that has rarely, if ever, been equalled.

Even after Horus was defeated, the Night Lords continued to attack, although increasingly without any discernible motivations for their steadily more murderous actions. The Night Lords fought their way to the Eye of Terror, from where they continue to take part in raids on the worlds of the Imperium.

They do not appear to worship any one of the Chaos Gods, but rather fight solely for pleasure and material gain. They look down on their more dedicated brethren, be they fanatical Chaos Space Marines such as Khorne Berzerkers or zealous loyalists like the Dark Angels.

In place of faith and devotion, they respect only strength — that, and the use of terror as a weapon. No Legion is as careful as them in severing enemy communications and making visible examples of those who dare to oppose them.

Many planetary governors have capitulated rather than face the wrath of the Night Lords, though none have been spared as a consequence. Darkness is their ally, and they ruthlessly use their innate abilities to give themselves an advantage over their enemies. Aggressive patrolling and surprise raids are their stock in trade, and they will patiently win a hundred small victories in order to achieve their objectives rather than pin everything on one large-scale conflict. It is common practice for the Legion to shut down the communications of a target planet and broadcast hideous messages and screams across the airwaves as they begin slaughtering the populace at their leisure.

Repeated instances have shown that they will give no quarter, and are entirely bereft of mercy. Any poor soul offering to surrender will have their pleas answered with mutilation and death. Similarly, they have no martial creed, all concept of honour eroded by their age-old habit of recruiting vicious criminals into their ranks.

The Night Lords are masters of stealth and infiltration. This skill appears to be innate to the Legion, and comes to the fore during the sick games they play to drive their prey into paroxysms of fear. They are extremely versatile in their use of the forces of Chaos, employing the powers of each of the Dark Gods with equal favour in order to further their horrific agendas. Expecting to have to deal with numerous guards and loyal retainers, she was surprised to find the halls of flesh and bone completely deserted.

Sitting in a pool of shadow upon a throne made from the fused bones of his victims, a carpet of screaming faces leading up to bare, gnarled feet, sits Night Haunter himself. His madness and hate radiate from him, palpable even through such a remote medium as a vid-log.

Long moments pass. Then, in a voice thick with contempt and pain, Night Haunter speaks. I have known of you ever since your craft entered the Eastern Fringes. Why did I not have you killed? Because your mission and the act you are about to commit proves the truth of all I have ever said or done. I merely punished those who had wronged, just as your false Emperor now seeks to punish me. Death is nothing compared to vindication. The last image in the recording is of dark, staring eyes brimming with madness above a lipless smile, before the recording inexplicably shorts out.

As the Time of Ending intensifies, the terror raids and cruel hunts of the Night Lords increase in frequency. Long scattered, they are uniting, warband by warband, in the name of some dire cause. It can spell only doom for the worlds of Mankind. The members of this seemingly benevolent strike force are largely clad in the colours and insignia of loyalist Space Marines, giving the populace of Garagos a few blissful days of hope.

Only when the Orks are driven off-world do they realise they have merely exchanged one set of persecutors for another — and that the second doom to befall them is far more malevolent. This second incidence triggers a full-scale crusade from the Mortifactors, who take the fastest ships in their fleet and set off in search of the perpetrators.

Twisted Justice After millennia of slaughter, the Night Lords warmonger Anvrex Rarth becomes disenchanted with indiscriminate violence. For a time, he finds a kind of peace, but his notions of morality are broken beyond repair.

Within the year he is wreaking the most terrible of atrocities as a response to everything from the breaching of shipping contracts to the incorrect pronunciation of High Gothic.

The Claws Descend The warband of Ghilus Venst mounts a series of crippling hit-and-run attacks, focusing on the orbital waystations and macrofibre lifts that surround the infamously criminalised cargo world Chokehold.

They escape with not only copious amounts of ammunition and fully charged power units, but also dozens of new recruits. With the need to travel between segmentums so desperate, it is not long before several Imperial fleets are inbound, intending to make the crossing with all haste. They plunge deep into the Great Rift. In a series of boarding actions, they capture dozens of Imperial vessels.

The Long Night With the light of the Astronomican cut off, thousands of star systems are plunged into blindness across the Imperium. The warbands of the Night Lords, seeing a gory harvest to be reaped, raid and pillage more than ever before.

They know fear can be used as a weapon just as effectively as a chainsword or bolter, and revel in the twisted anatomies that the powers of Chaos sometimes lavish upon them. It is common to see the Night Lords adorned with malefic symbols — fanged skulls, bat-like wings and glowing red eyes all feature heavily upon the battle plate of these murderous traitors.

There are still those amongst their ranks that wear the Mk IV armour that was so common amongst the Legion during the Horus Heresy. Skull faceplates are laid over — or even sorcerously melded into — helms, femurs are inlaid along greaves, splayed ribcages adorn breastplates, and even compacted ground bonemeal is used to trim shoulder guards. Thraktar Hexx, whose malevolence is so great that it darkens the air around him The Night Lords Traitor Legion revel in terrorising and tormenting their foes.

Their lightning raids and sadistic acts of atrocity have haunted the Imperium for thousands of years. Masters of stealth and infiltration, these murderous traitors never opt for the clean kill when they can instead spread fear and panic amongst the ranks of their prey. They adorn their battle plate with nightmarish symbols — bat-winged skulls, blazing red eyes and other malefic images. Some of the original Traitor Legions have retained a degree of their old fraternal loyalty, in however twisted a fashion it may manifest.

The Night Lords had little enough to begin with, however, and have only become more self-centred and cruel as the millennia have slipped past. Each warrior amongst them vies with his comrades to claim the most glorious kills, to spread the most terror and adorn his wargear with the most baroque warrior trophies. They raise their damned standards high and march beneath cursed icons, bellowing catechisms of hate at the foe as cultist war drums beat out a heart-pounding thunder.

The advance of the Word Bearers is a terrifying sight even before they invoke the daemonic pacts that conjure their fiendish allies from the warp. The Word Bearers are a Legion of warrior fanatics whose history is steeped in blood. They are religious zealots whose conviction is so powerful it can drive them to the heights of personal valour or the depths of villainy.

Chanting devotional hymns in deep, sonorous voices, their mighty Legion storms into war, grinding all before it in the name of belief itself. And yet there was a crux point in their history where beatific devotion curdled to the most unholy hatred. As the Great Crusade spread further and further across the stars, the Emperor became a divinity in the eyes of his people. The Master of Mankind forbade such irrational thoughts; his goal was for logic and reason to rule the galaxy, not blind faith.

Even so, when the Emperor was reunited with Lorgar upon Colchis, vast displays of devotion and rapture were laid before him. The warriors that became the Word Bearers felt such devotion for their spiritual father their admiration crossed the line into worship.

The scale of their sacraments was so great that the Emperor became impatient, demanding war, not veneration. The Emperor took exception to these indulgent displays and the slow progress they represented, chastising Lorgar and ordering the Ultramarines to cast down his works, including Monarchia — known to the Word Bearers as the Perfect City.

Some amongst them — notably the Chaplain Erebus — turned their sorrow into hatred, their dark faith infecting those under their sway. There were other powers in the universe that would gladly accept the worship of mortals, and that had the power to reward them copiously for acts of devotion and sacrifice.

What started as a noble quest to understand the spiritual worlds beyond mortality crossed into the studies of the occult, and then into the worship of more sinister entities.

By necessity, the Word Bearers had to keep their activities hidden at first. Secret covens were set up on the planets that the Word Bearers controlled or conquered, and these worked covertly to create followings for the Chaos Gods. As the first Legion to embrace the worship of Chaos, once the Horus Heresy began the Word Bearers revealed their true nature, and on a thousand worlds the Chaos cults they had founded erupted into open rebellion. Freed from the need to keep their devotion to Chaos a secret, the Word Bearers dedicated themselves fully to the gods of Chaos.

As the atrocities carried out in the name of devotion rose to new heights, Lorgar was rewarded by his patrons with the gift of daemonhood. Finally, he truly was the equal of a god, and the birth scream of this newest Daemon Primarch was said by Astropaths to have echoed through the warp with triumphant vindication. From the Daemon world of Sicarus, Lorgar watches over his Legion as it launches twisted wars of faith against the Imperium, directing its myriad wars and engagements whilst orchestrating the vast corruption from within that the Imperium suffers at the hands of his innumerable cults.

Unlike their peers, the Word Bearers have remained a unified, if loosely organised, Legion. Each is gifted an army roughly equivalent to a Space Marine Chapter, known as a Host. On the worlds these forces attack, the Word Bearers build huge monuments dedicated to the Dark Gods, and vast cathedrals are erected in which the chants and prayers of the faithful intermingle with the screams of those being sacrificed in the name of Lorgar. Their war against the Imperium of Man is total, and it will not end until every icon of the Emperor who betrayed them lies shattered at their feet.

The Dark Apostles of the Word Bearers enforce a strict regime of religious observance upon their brothers. All Word Bearers are expected to spend a considerable portion of each day in acts of ritual sacrifice, occult study or acts of worship. In battle the Word Bearers are zealous in the extreme, marching forwards under huge banners dedicated to Chaos in its myriad forms, reciting catechisms as they fight, and slaying the enemy for their failure to follow the one path to righteousness.

Forced conversion is a common fate for those conquered by their armies, often as a precursor to a short, brutal life as a slave labourer building an immense temple to the Chaos Gods. The Word Bearers follow the words of their Dark Apostles with utter loyalty in battle, and they in turn interpret the will of Lorgar by a myriad esoteric means. The strategy to win a battle may be contained within the entrails of a particular captive, an alignment of the stars or the pattern of cast bones.

The Dark Apostles decree how the battle is to be fought and the warriors of the Host obey unquestioningly. The night before each battle, the enemy can hear dark mutterings emanating from all around, echoed in pounding drums and fever dreams, straining the nerves and instilling every man with fear.

When dawn comes, a bloody enlightenment is unleashed, for the Word Bearers believe that they alone can save the galaxy through embracing Chaos. This unshakeable creed sees them marching towards certain death as often as glorious victory, yet regardless of the carnage around them, they remain unwilling to take a single step back. Only those truly steeped in arcane lore can discern the patterns within. No idle raids are these, but the sacrificial acts of a grand ritual designed to tear open reality and empower the Chaos Gods.

Each betrayal, each act of hideous devotion, has been for the furtherance of this bitter crusade. The planet was once host to a great Imperial triumph, and is covered with statues hundreds of feet high depicting the Primarchs and the Emperor. The Word Bearers and their cultists disfigure many of the statues and tear down many more with ropes and melta charges, toppling them even as the fires of a full-scale planetary war rage all around.

The Cyclopeans, a Titan Legion from nearby Vellung, counter-invade from enormous bulk landers and take a grievous toll on the Word Bearers — though the god-machines are toppled after the Chaos Space Marines perform a grand ritual in the name of Tzeentch that imbues the disfigured statues with a semblance of life.

The shrine world of Nepthys Madrigal is the last bastion of resistance against the empyric incursion led by Lord Vileblight, a Greater Daemon of Nurgle. Within the month, the Word Bearers attack Nepthys Madrigal. As mortals, they are not repelled by the banishment sigils of the world, and cross the barriers that kept the Daemons out. They take the fight to the Sisters of Battle there with such vigour they force a full-scale evacuation of the populace.

The conflict becomes a war of attrition in which the Chaos Space Marines prioritise casting down the temples and altars of the Imperial Creed, disrupting their wards.

The planet falls to a wave of contagion and the subsequent Plaguebearer assault. The Word Bearers that instigated the insurrection mount a fleet-based crusade of their own, clashing with the Black Templars on a hundred battlefields.

The war escalates massively as other Traitor Legions and Daemon hosts join the fight. By the time the two crusades grind to a halt, the once-populous Invernus Sector has been decimated, with six of its worlds consumed by radioactive flame.

Chaos Spawn Daemon Engines. Lords of Skulls Khorne Berzerkers. Rubric Marines. Plague Marines. Noise Marines. Lucius the Eternal Fabius Bile. Huron Blackheart. The Fallen. Haarken Worldclaimer. Abaddon the Despoiler Dark Disciples Greater Possessed.

Chaos Vindicator Chaos Predator. Chaos Land Raider Chaos Rhino Khorne Lord of Skulls Noctilith Crown The Forbidden Armoury. Scions of Chaos The Path to Glory Beckons Death to the False Emperor. Slaves to Darkness.

Chaos Space Marines Wargear Lists. Daemon Prince. Chaos Lord. Chaos Lord in Terminator Armour. Your email address will not be published. Save my name, email, and website in this browser for the next time I comment. Search Search for:. System Needs: Windows XP. RAM of 4 GB. Intel i3 1. Mirror files: Summary.