Death Guard Rhino

Even a Legion as contemptuous of haste as the Death Guard has need of transport, and for that duty the ancient Rhino still serves as it did in the earliest days of the Great Crusade. Ten thousand years within the Eye of Terror have not been kind to these machines. The Rhinos of Mortarion's sons are corroded and weeping, their hulls streaked with rust and slime, their engines coughing clouds of foul exhaust as they lurch across the battlefield.

Yet they endure, and that endurance is the whole of the point. Like the warriors they carry, the Death Guard's Rhinos have passed beyond the ordinary rules of wear and failure. Their machine-spirits have grown stubborn and unnatural, sustained less by the ministrations of the Legion's dark mechanics than by the same grim resilience that keeps a Plague Marine walking with his innards hanging loose. Battle damage that would cripple a pristine transport is simply shrugged aside, one more wound among many.

Packed with Plague Marines and grinding forward through the thickest fire, a Death Guard Rhino delivers its cargo of walking pestilence into the heart of the enemy line and disgorges them amid the foe. Scarred, reeking and impossibly durable, it is a fitting steed for the sons of the Plague Planet, a rolling coffin that refuses, like its passengers, to lie down and die.