c. Games Workshop

The column inched its way down Furion Road with a ponderous, methodical slowness, looking from a distance like some vast dun-red caterpillar crawling across the wasteland. Rows of red-robed Skitarii marched in unison through the ruins of old outpost towns, their steel-soled feet clanging dully against the centuries-old pavement, marching in perfect, synchronous lockstep. Long-limbed Ironstriders loped around the edges of the column, looking for all the world like the vigilant desert lizards scanning for prey, their gunners swivelling twin-barrelled autocannons against the horizon as their mind-impulse units took in thermal information. At the rear, larger quadrupedal walkers stomped along with a trundling, beetle-like gait, their arrays of weaponry aimed skyward. Hulking robots, their forms squat and bulbous, stomped along on a pre-programmed path, the blank visors covering their dome-like heads flickering every once in a while with an electromagnetic glimmer of mechanical awareness.