Obliterators are among the most grotesque servants of Chaos, monstrous amalgams of human, daemon, and machine that shamble across the battlefield as living arsenals. They are the victims of a curse the ignorant name the technovirus, though the wise know it for what it truly is: the raw touch of Chaos, welding flesh and steel together into a single blasphemous whole. Many were once Techmarines or artificers, their fascination with the machine twisted into damnation and their bodies fused for all time into their own war-plate.
The affliction grants a terrible gift. An Obliterator's flesh has learned to devour weapons, absorbing any armament held too long into its very substance, and from that stolen mass it can grow new guns at will, sprouting fusion cannons, bolt weapons, and heavy ordnance from its rippling hide as easily as a mortal clenches a fist. It manufactures its own ammunition from within, an endless foundry of destruction wrapped in corrupted ceramite, never wanting for shot or shell however long the battle rages.
Whatever mind survives the transformation is long since broken. The unending agony of weapons erupting through flesh, and the slow horror of being welded alive into metal, leaves the Obliterator little more than a shambling engine of appetite and hate. They feel nothing but the urge to consume and to kill, and they lumber toward the foe with dreadful patience, unleashing a storm of fire that can shatter tanks and reduce whole squads of warriors to ash.
Order of battle
