Thousand Sons Rubric Marines
Stepping out from the fog of war come the Rubricae. Many of these undying warriors were psykers in their own right, before an ancient curse damned them to an eternity as living husks – their baroque power armour now contains nothing but sparkling dust. In battle, a malevolent witch-light crackles around the eyes of these traitor Space Marines as they open fire on those they would have once called brothers. Their infernal weaponry spits plumes of warpfire into the ranks of the foe, flesh and molten armour exploding in all directions as salvo after salvo hits home.
Stepping out from the fog of war come the Rubricae. Many of these undying warriors were psykers in their own right, before an ancient curse damned them to an eternity as living husks – their baroque power armour now contains nothing but sparkling dust. In battle, a malevolent witch-light crackles around the eyes of these traitor Space Marines as they open fire on those they would have once called brothers. Their infernal weaponry spits plumes of warpfire into the ranks of the foe, flesh and molten armour exploding in all directions as salvo after salvo hits home.
Stepping out from the fog of war come the Rubricae. Many of these undying warriors were psykers in their own right, before an ancient curse damned them to an eternity as living husks – their baroque power armour now contains nothing but sparkling dust. In battle, a malevolent witch-light crackles around the eyes of these traitor Space Marines as they open fire on those they would have once called brothers. Their infernal weaponry spits plumes of warpfire into the ranks of the foe, flesh and molten armour exploding in all directions as salvo after salvo hits home.
