Sins of the Fathers, A IVth Legion Log (Now with Titans!)

[Flint13]

What kind of photo app and iPhone are you working with? I've been using a 5s and an iPad Air for awhile and gotten pretty good photo results with a few key set up points.

 

I feel you on the storm eagle. I've built two now and both have been a giant pain in the ass, even with a heat gun pinning and clamps

[Phatsquirre1]

I use an iPhone 5s and Photobucket to upload/edit photos. It's worked decently well until now.

 

Right? I'm almost done with mine (finally...) don't plan on buying another anytime soon. At least FW is great about replacement parts.

[Flint13]

Ah, see the stock photo app is pretty bare bones. I've been using the camera+.

 

It's only $3 or so and it has invaluable stabilizer and macro features as well as a really good photo lab suite.

 

It does a great job of pulling the best performance out of the little 5 camera.

Edited November 8, 2016 by Flint13

[Phatsquirre1]

Ah, see the stock photo app is pretty bare bones. I've been using the camera+.

 

It's only $3 or so and it has invaluable stabilizer and macro features as well as a really good photo lab suite.

 

It does a great job of pulling the best performance out of the little 5 camera.

 

 Hmm. That sounds interesting, I'll give it a try and see how it comes out. Thanks for the tip.

 

After all, If I'm willing to spend $150 on a tank, I doubt i'd miss $3 too much. 

[Frejdruk]

Your work is incredible! Very inspiring. Makes me want to get some marines after being out of 40k for a long while :) 

[Phatsquirre1]

Thanks Frejdruk, much appreciated. Hope to see your own forces on the boards soon. 

 

In other news, this happened.

 

++++++++

Of Those Who Walk In Shadow

 

'To those who bled us dry, I challenge you. We remain...'

 

-Pict-cap of unidentified XVth Legion Force, Post-Prospero.

++++++++

_{(Ahriman conversion shamelessly stolen from Athrawes.)}

Edited May 5, 2018 by Phatsquirre1

[Guiltysparc]

Leviathan!

[Phatsquirre1]

And here is the vet. tactical squad from above, known as Vhratep Tactical. More info on them can be found in the link in my sig.

 

 

Speaking of, if anyone here is interested in 30k Thousand Sons, please head over to my new log (http://www.bolterand...vth-legion-log/) and leave me some feedback on my minis. I've been bitten by the urge to paint red recently, and will be tracking my progress there, trying to get the army to a 2000 point level in 2-3 months.

 

Finally, to all of my Brothers in the U.S. and across the globe, Happy Thanksgiving, I hope your day is awesome and hobby-filled, and I'm quite thankful of the fact that this forum exists, so that I can let everyone see my painfully obvious resin-crack addiction. 

Edited May 5, 2018 by Phatsquirre1

[Phatsquirre1]

So here's another post off of my Thousand Sons' log, and I'm super proud of this guy, even if his battle-record has been sub par as of late.

 

Ancient Amjhad

"World-Burner", Hammer of the 209th

Leviathan-Class Dreadnought 003

 

++++++++

Sharbal Amjhad patiently sat inside the Kharybdis, his claw flexing, a curious tic he had never rid himself of.

 

He was only one of a score of pods assaulting the Wolves' cruiser Jarvak, and the only one of his kind in the attack. He noticed that he had almost reached the Ship, but his mind was not on the mission.

 

He lifted himself through the enumerations, scrying fate's paths, practicing once more what had been his greatest gift, seeking the legionaries aboard.

 

There.

 

His mind focused on a cluster of Wolves, hunched over in the dark, waiting for the attack just beyond the ships' walls. Amjhad felt revulsion- Where his kin saw brother astartes, he saw sickened visions, his mind altering their slate-grey bodies into twisted wolf-beasts, feral maws growing through the proud visage of Mk. III plate, clawed feet emerging from below their greaves. It was a mockery of the astartes form, and Amjhad raged to see such a corruption of the Emperor's visage.

 

He knew he was the only one to see their true form, his brothers unwilling to see the truth in front of them. All the same, he fought down the feeling, replaced by an anger leaching into every fiber of his new form.

 

They cast the XVth as witch-mutants, uncontrollable sorcerers, whose talents were only evidence of their damnation. They came to his world to kill his kin, backed by Emperor's command, to remove the light of progress and reason. What hypocrisy to see what they truly were, below the plate and barbarism, wearing an identity built to hide the truth- that they were beasts less human than those they now hunted. 

 

His reactor spiked in tandem with his rising ire, a burning sensation creeping into the back of his mind, and with a contemptuous hiss, he turned his assault-claw towards the pack.

 

+I see you, murderers. I see you. I see past the lies. You must be purged, broken and left to die.+

 

He laughed to himself as they snapped around, caught unawares by his subconscious presence. Their arrogance was laughable, so sure, so confident of their skill and power. What pathetic examples. It was no surprise that they were so hated across the galaxy, their barbarian lord undeserving of the title of Primarch.

 

The claw's retros fired, and he disengaged the mag-locks, just in time for the claw's burners to melt through the hull. His first sight was of those same wolves, unnerved by the claw's occupant, none of them ready to face such a brutal monster in battle.

 

His phosphex discharger fired into the pack, well over half falling to their knees, choking in pain as their lungs and eyes turned to soup. He stepped out into the tight confines of the ship, and turned to face the survivors, his calivers firing into them as they tried to fall back in some semblance of order.

 

He laughed once more, confident in his power and cause, and began the killing.

 

'Run, you bastard pups. Run, like the child-barbarians you are. Death is here for you.'

++++++++

-Pre-battle log of Ancient Amjhad, during the destruction of the Jarvak

 

Seen here is the Leviathan Dreadnought known as Ancient Sharbal Amjhad, known as the "World-Burner".

 

 

Favoring a load out that suits his role as a line-breaker, Ancient Amjhad, the only Leviathan in the 209th, is armed with a Siege Claw and Grav-Flux Bombard, anti-infantry weapons that are supplemented by his Volkite Calivers and Phosphex Discharger.

 

Renowned for being a vicious killer before his internment, the one time siege breaker and member of the Corvidae has taken well to his new body, aside from a curious warping of his psychic abilities, which has manifested itself as dream-like visions that overcome his mind during particularly stressful situations, only exacerbated by battle.

 

 

Largely overlooked in favor of his terrifying effect on loyalist forces, his kill-tallies have grown of late, mirroring the increasingly erratic visions he has had, the worst being his fervent belief of some kind of mutation amongst the VIth, which is believed to be a side-effect of his installation in this particular Leviathan chassis. Techmarines charged with caring for the Ancient have repeatedly denied any such issues, but also admit a loss as to why such a vision might manifest itself.

 

Regardless, it is accepted that until the day Amjhad dies, he will continue to spearhead the raids of the 209th, spitting his vitriol upon those who defiled his home.

++++++++

Edited May 5, 2018 by Phatsquirre1

[Phatsquirre1]

Hey guys,

 

So here's something a little different, an excerpt from my first log, and one of my first units for the 52nd, back when I had just started to collect them.

 

A lot has changed since then, but these marines, and the "sacrifice" they made for the battalion, has not. The models have been rebuilt and painted, but their legacy lives on.  I'm hoping to have them up on here soon.

 

In Memoriam

Kyros Assault Squad

The Iron Scythes

 

++++++++

With a jarring clang of metal, I feel my shoulder crunch into the enemy’s torso, blade arcing and slicing through its neck. Its head flops to the side, jetting ichor into the air as it collapses to its knees. The second one falls in the next moment, my axe splitting its skull in half, his hideously deformed body keening with a death-wail resounding through my mind; the cry of something evil being released from this dimension.

 

With that, our way to the Caestus is clear, its ramps coming down, the onboard pilot responding to our battle-cant identifications. The Originals move into their positions, some moving the Warsmith into the Assault Ram’s hold, the others guarding them. They are few in number, a testament to the hard fighting, and to how many have died on this world.

 

As I scan the sea of red and grey, I spot a small knot of Iron and Brass, the remainder of the Iron Scythes- Kyros Assault squad. Their vox-chatter speaks of frantic combat, and the survivors’ life-signs are erratic, spiking and then flat lining in quick succession. Many are dead, ripped apart by the Bearer’s abominations. The rest are surrounded and outnumbered, just a few hundred meters from my position, surrounded and slated to die.

 

But still they hold. Still they prevent the hell-spawn from reaching the Warsmith. I will never see one of them alive again, but my heart goes out to these warriors, these brave souls. They remind me of the Spartans at Thermopylae; they inspire me. They die as their role dictates, the rearguard, protecting their own. Were that their legend survived and graced the halls of Terra. But that will never be.

 

As the Originals finish loading Khyze onto the Caestus, Kyros glances our way; a final glimpse to ensure his job is done. His gaze meets mine for the last time, and he can only nod before he is plunged back into the scrum of combat, Power fist arcing into traitor after traitor, chain-blade blocking his exposed flanks. Despite his reflexes and skill, one by one, the daemon-kin pull apart the rest of his squad, each one’s cries of pain audible over our comm-net.

 

The last of them to die is Kyros, pinned under the hooves of a beast, its jaws locked on his face. Its kin hold Kyros down, and I can hear the muffled cries of pain over the vox as the spawn kills him. To his credit, he does not scream, although the pain is unimaginable, his soul too rigid to allow such a betrayal of his character. It is only when static cuts across the vox that I feel the sickening weight of his death lift from my shoulders.

 

I am not ashamed to feel tears in my eyes.’

++++++++

-Record of Alexos Daman, Delegatus, 52^nd Grand Company, on the evacuation from Auror.

 

'They died as the purest of us all, without the black, the shame of the IVth on their minds. They died with honor, clad in suits that could have been fresh from the forges, unmarked, unsullied. This is why we envy them; they were the last of us to die holding back alien horrors, before we knew what had befallen the Bearers' and Horus' lapdogs. They fought, bled, and died as all astartes were meant to.'

-Kysandr Agathon, Sergeant, Agathon Seeker Squad.

 

Edited May 5, 2018 by Phatsquirre1

[Phatsquirre1]

So today I want to show off one of my favorite units in 30k, and something that I think epitomizes the Iron Warriors- Brutal, blocky, and dangerous as all hell.

 

If you've seen this log, then you've likely seen her before, but officially, I present one of my favorite units, both to build, paint, and play with, and who I have never lost in a game (may that trend continue):

 

The Cynolyxus

Spartan Assault Tank

Tyrant, Titanomakhia Heavy Assault Echelon

++++++++

80 Meters.

 

Volkov’s eyes were glued to the viewscreens, watching ahead for any hidden threats, datafeeds scrolling past his enhanced vision at a blinding rate. His target- the breach in the bunker-complex that had been hiding his foe from the 52^nd’s guns for over an hour- was a sure insult, and was one that needed to be rectified.

 

Behind him, the Originals stood, the twenty astartes of Vyrr Tactical keeping to themselves, at least for now. Only a few showed any sign of nervousness, their heartbeats increasing with every second. The rest were unmoving, like empty suits of armor. The Warsmith himself was also aboard, his servo arm darting to and fro like a dragonfly, echoing the mind-reflexes of the Senior Officer as his own data-feed fed him intelligence not shared by anyone else.

 

Interesting.

 

Whatever their issues, Volkov didn’t care. Sure, it was a high honor to carry the Warsmith, but nevertheless, the Tyrants were his favored cargo, the rest too noisy and distracting. Khaur let him focus, and Volkov’s crew did better as a result. Even his Spartan, the beast known as the Cynolyxus, seemed to like them, her cogitators and targeters always working at a better efficiency when they were close by.

 

Unfortunately, today, they had been sent elsewhere.

 

As if to add a punch-line to the point, a marine broke cover ahead of them, arm cocked back to throw his melta-bomb at the beast thundering down on him. He had barely gone two steps when the sponson quad-las lanced out, catching him in a halo of light that left only smoke to mark the astartes’ passing. Volkov frowned to himself- he should’ve only managed one.

 

Focus, girl. Eyes on the prize.

 

Her engine purred in agreement- a rough, abrasive sound that only Volkov could stand to hear, and as the Spartan closed the distance, she began to slow, abruptly pulling to a stop as dirty light poured into his battle-tank. The forward assault ramp was down, evidently triggered by the marines, and they were already halfway out by the time he had caught the change. As he closed the hatch, his hold fully emptied, the voice of the Warsmith broke over his comm-feed, the bitter ice-rasp of his tone completely at odds with the words coming from his helm.

 

‘Appreciated, Volkov. Your girl is a fine beast- worthy of her name. Hold here, and await further instructions.’

 

Volkov said nothing, knowing no response was required.

 

‘For now, just kill everything you see.’

 

Below his MK.III helm, Volkov smiled.

++++++++

-Transcribed Mem-log of Commander Zarac Volkov, during the Raid on Khadros.

 

Seen here is the Spartan Assault Tank known as the Cynolyxus, the favored transport of the 52^nd Grand Battalion’s elites.

 

 

Only one of a large number of Spartans across the 52^nd, the Cynolyxus is, like most of her class, a member of the Titanomakhia Heavy Assault Echelon, a formation that has served with the 52^nd for countless decades. However, the Cynolyxus is by far the most prized, her record of reliability and endurance renowned across the Battalion, and even in the Legion proper.

 

 

Her commander, the veteran astartes Zarac Volkov, honors her eminence like most of the Echelon, who have named her the “Tyrant of the Titanomakhia”, something that is both a title held by the most honored battle-tank among the 52^nd’s Heavy Assault Echelons, and a play on words- which the vast majority of the Titanomakhia finds oddly humorous- likely linked to the cargo the Assault Tank usually carries.

 

 

Despite the odd customs of the 52^nd’s Assault Echelons, there is no doubt that without the Cynolyxus and her ilk, it is likely the 52^nd would have never been able to survive the brutal sieges of Auror and Phrytomanda, and possibly been forced to retreat further as a result of higher casualties. Due to this fact, it is not an overstatement to say that above any formation in the 52^nd, the Titanomakhia has solely ensured the continued survival of the Battalion, and will likely continue to in the months to come.

Edited May 5, 2018 by Phatsquirre1

[Bjorn Firewalker]

Excellent work on the Spartan.

Edited December 13, 2016 by Bjorn Firewalker

[Phatsquirre1]

Thanks Bjorn.   She was a real treat to work on. So much so that I'm thinking of another for my Thousand Sons. 

[Koozzo]

Great work, Ninjaman! the tank is great in itself but the story tellling is really what makes your work pop. I enjoy reading these posts about as much as seeing the awesome minitures involed. Iron Warriors are the best. Thanks for sharing, and keep it up!

[Phatsquirre1]

Thanks Koozzo, It means a lot to hear that, especially since I'm a total fluff-head.

 

And seconded, the Iron Warriors are the best. Hands down, bar none. Anyone that disagrees can fight me* (cause that's a healthy response) and give me a chance to use my Spartan as a weapon (It's certainly heavy enough). 

 

*_{except Guiltysparc. He knows Jiu-jitsu, and his Leviathan is pure evil.} 

[Guiltysparc]

LOL!

[Koozzo]

They are the best because they are the most believable. Their story and mindset are very human. They understand that war on such a grand scale as the crusade is a matter of harsh algebraic equations. Their tactics mimic reality much more closely than most legions in that they focus more on efficient combined arms tactics rather than one specific niche. Their bitterly efficient demeanor and morbid sense of humor really humanizes them as men who have seen and been through too much. Anyhow, I'm gushing. The IW are obviously my favorite, and this log does them justice.       

[Phatsquirre1]

Couldn't have said it better myself.

[Phatsquirre1]

Hey guys,

 

Pretty darn impressed with myself right now- I managed to make my own badge for the 52nd (in my sig below) and even link it to this log! (Which considering that i'm as tech-savvy as a blind hamster, is pretty cool.)

 

Here's a larger version. Quite proud of how it turned out. Only complaint: I can't unsee the most Imperial eyebrows ever.

 

http://i1374.photobucket.com/albums/ag437/Phatsquirre1/63093371-ccdd-404f-866a-57649f6b1e91_zps53qv69ob.jpg

[Phatsquirre1]

Hey guys,

 

Here's another fluff entry I wrote up for the Inspirational Friday Challenge- (congrats to Brother Carrack) and while I didn't win, it was nice to get to explore more of Warsmith Khyze's background and story.

 

Anyways, hope you all enjoy.

 

++++++++

B-blip. B-blip. B-blip.

These were the first sounds Jhaurot heard as he swam into consciousness, his eyes struggling to open through the gummy blood that covered his forehead.

Dim, patchy light spilled into his eyes, and as he finally forced his eyelids apart, he was confronted by a dirty grey-brown sky, flecks of dirty snow falling from the heavens above.

Except- it wasn’t snow. What he saw through his dimmed Mk.III helm was ash- ash falling from the monstrous weaponry unleashed here, the funeral pyre of so many of his kind. It was at that moment that he remembered where he was, and uttered an unintelligible word that more closely resembled a curse than a planet.

He groaned as he tried to move, his armor’s systems coming back online painfully slowly as they tried to reboot. Diagnostics, HUD, Friend or Foe markers- it all came back as a fuzzy blur, and Jhaurot started as he realized his respirator had been punctured- chalky air mixing with the rancid recyc-air he was more familiar with. His mind calmed as he remembered that the planet was non-toxic, but tensed again as a spiking pain blossomed from his legs. Worried, he inclined his helm, desperate to see what had caused such a feeling.

Sure enough, his legs ended in a pulpy mass of blood, fibers and bone, their ends protruding from where his knees would have started. Blood trickled from the stumps, and he cursed softly. It wasn’t a mortal wound for certain, but without medical attention, he could die- or more likely, fall into Hyper-Catatonia. If that happened, it was likely the Legion would leave him here, remaining in a coma until he withered away.

The thought shook him. What a terrible way to die.

One of the worst for an astartes.

He looked around, and his heart soared as he caught sight of another Iron Warrior searching through the debris of battle, scanning in a standard legion search pattern. His armor couldn’t make an identification of the marine’s company, but Jhaurot didn’t care. That was his lifeline, and he’d be damned if he didn’t reach out to him.

+Brother+

Snapping his bolter to his eyepiece, the lone marine scanned the area.

+I am here+

As Jhaurot said this, he reached out his hand, and he smiled to himself as the warrior caught his movement, making his way to the fallen legionary’s position. As he arrived, Jhaurot caught sight of his armor, a dusty, battered suit of Mk. IV, with all insignia ripped from his shoulders. Odd.

‘What is your company, legionary?’

The voice came from the newcomer, and snapped Jhaurot into life. The astartes held his bolter languidly in his hands as he crouched over Jhaurot’s form, his head cocked slightly to the left, like a hunter sizing up a kill. Jhaurot’s instincts screamed at him to get away- to survive. He pushed them down.

It’s just the pain and shock speaking.

‘212th Battalion. 87th Co., Tactical Squad Xeghen. You?’

The marine nodded, evidently assuaged by the answer. For some reason, the feeling of unease grew even stronger. Sweat broke on Jhaurot’s brow, but he pushed it down once more, his immediate desire to survive overriding everything he knew.

‘Call me Khyze. Where’s your extraction vessel, Legionary?’

Khaurot nodded and spoke, a sense of relief escaping his lips.

‘My squads’ ride is set to come down upon activation of our transponder, which should be about 300 meters back, under the next hill’s lee, along with ammunition and medicae supplies.’

The astartes nodded, but still sat there, silently judging Jhaurot’s wounds.

‘Khyze. Don’t leave me to die here- take me with you, so I can join the Legion in taking the fight to Terra, and repay the bastards that did this to me in kind.’

As he spoke the last sentence, a flash of something shone through the newcomer’s lenses, and Jhaurot caught sight of a faded LII on the marine’s kneepad, triggering a creeping realization- visions of a battle not long passed dawning on Jhaurot’s mind.

The Betrayal. It happened here. Gunfire, screams from the west. Vox-chatter reports heavy bracketing at the ridge line. The 212th was taking losses from the southwestern qudrant, indicators of friendly fire, 31% casualties. IFF tags indicate the 52nd has turned on the 212th.

The 87th was on the opposite end of that. I should’ve known. I should’ve known. What was it that Xeghen had always said?

‘You can’t trust anyone. Not in this Legion.’

‘Hmm. You’re smarter than I thought. Still, you’ll never walk upon Terra’s soil.’

The marine’s words broke Jhaurot’s memories, and as Khyze glanced at the wounded marine’s ruined legs, a dark, insane sound erupted from his grille, as if amused by his own unintended joke. Jhaurot tried to push himself away feebly, but in a flash, the marine had him pinned, and was nonchalantly drawing a brutally serrated knife from his belt.

‘I will use your transponder, your weapons, and your supplies to continue the war in a thousand battles, on a thousand worlds, and kill a thousand and more of those like you- wretched, faithless dogs. But you- Legionary Jhaurot- you will never set foot on Terra, because your life is destined to end here.’

No. No. What have I done?

Cold ice slipped down Jhaurot’s spine as the blade’s edge crackled into life, the stink of ozone filling the air and Jhaurot’s helm. Khyze’s hand, once pressed on Jhaurot’s chest, snapped to his gorget. He pulled the Legionary up by the collar, eyes fixed on Jhaurot’s own panicked gaze, never wavering in their hatred.

Please. Gods above. Not like this. Not here.

‘On this world.’

Khyze raised the blade, like an executioner hoisting the guillotine, its edge pointed right at Jhaurot’s neck.

‘On Istvaan.’

The blade fell.

++++++++

[Phatsquirre1]

Phew.

 

What a mixed bag this weekend has been hobby wise. 

 

First, the bad: 

 

Episode V: The Storm Eagle Strikes Back

 

Evidently, I didn't spend enough time in Flyer Artificing 101- seeing as my Storm Eagle has found its way back onto my hobby desk. Possibly for the final time. Due to warpage and fitting issues, I've had to try and rebuild the model three separate times.

 

I can't stress how much I hate this thing.

 

The doors won't fit without bending, the hooks have snapped (again), and the entire thing just screams "Mistake" at me... I've emailed FW for some guidance, and should my next attempt fail, I'm 100% K.O.-fatality done with this thing- into terrain it shall become.

 

By comparison, I bought an Anvillus (which was AHH-MAZING) and even my Warhound (which I built with a cast on) was easier to build than this Eagle. If you're ever in doubt- say no. This thing is NOT worth the stress.

 

Bleh. Now, with that out of my system, here's the Good:

 

Episode IV: A New Hope (for my sanity)

 

Firstly, I had a great New years, and got an awesome last game of 2016 in with my Iron Warriors, who fought a hard-won battle. Thank the Emperor for Quad Mortars, Spartans (Go Cynolyxus!), and my FW dice. Even my Warsmith impressed (despite flailing around in combat like a goober) by managing to hold Alpharius (or was it...) for a turn in a challenge. Gotta love making 6 invuls in a row. Especially when they come up on the Iron Warriors legion symbol. 

 

Besides that, my gf got me a dual-kheres contemptor for my 1ksons, which is a gorgeous mini and great gift, and I got an Anvillus for myself, which was a real treat, and quite cool to use in the aforementioned game.

 

Finally, I'm super excited for a big game coming up against Guiltyparc and Novachron, which will not only see Knights and Typhons, but the Aedifex take the field for the first time. Suffice to say, her crew is training hard, and my Mech army producing Angron-fodder (read: tech-thralls) galore. 2017 looks like it's gonna be a beautiful year.

 

SO, for my 2017 hobby-resolutions, I commit to the following:

 

1. I WILL finish my Iron Warriors. Above all, bar nothing, this is my top priority. It will also take the longest, seeing as I will never truly stop with the 52nd, but I want to paint the last 30-odd minis I have left for them. And of course, get them up on this log.

 

2. I will finish my Cybernetica force. I have 3 Vorax, a Krios, thralls, Knight, and a Scorpio Dunecrawler to paint. They should be the fastest so long as I focus since its such a low model count.

 

3.  I will finish a 2.5k Thousand Sons force. Hopefully before Inferno drops, so then I can do the cool legion stuff, but if not, no biggie. 

 

Once those are done, we'll have to see what comes next. I'm considering a Reaver/ZM board as a major project, if funds allow, and seeing as (hopefully) all my legions will be fleshed out I may actually be able to capitalize on my urge to spend bucket loads of cash on FW. Unless another idea catches my eye (looking at you, Solar Aux and Militia.)

 

Anyways, I hope all of you had a great New Years, and look forward to a fantastic 2017, both in terms of real life, and the hobby. 

 

 

 

 

 

[Monstra Sumus]

I'm loving that Spartan dude. 

 

Sending mega vibes your way for your 2017 resolutions, I'm gonna commit myself to getting the 126th finished myself! 

[Phatsquirre1]

Thanks Tyrax, it helps having other logs (such as yours) to keep me track with my IVth. 

 

That said, I'm scared to see if they actually get done- they're my primary legion- so "finished" is such a relative term haha.  Plus with the rumored Tyrants coming out sometime in the next month... My wallet is likely to feel the wrath of Perturabo's decimations.

[Monstra Sumus]

Thanks Tyrax, it helps having other logs (such as yours) to keep me track with my IVth. 

 

That said, I'm scared to see if they actually get done- they're my primary legion- so "finished" is such a relative term haha.  Plus with the rumored Tyrants coming out sometime in the next month... My wallet is likely to feel the wrath of Perturabo's decimations.

 

Thanks man, but your stuff is stellar. My hobby took a bad hit last year so I'm slowly crawling back into it. 

 

When I say finished, I just mean the stuff I have so far :p

[Phatsquirre1]

 

Thanks Tyrax, it helps having other logs (such as yours) to keep me track with my IVth. 

 

That said, I'm scared to see if they actually get done- they're my primary legion- so "finished" is such a relative term haha.  Plus with the rumored Tyrants coming out sometime in the next month... My wallet is likely to feel the wrath of Perturabo's decimations.

 

Thanks man, but your stuff is stellar. My hobby took a bad hit last year so I'm slowly crawling back into it. 

 

When I say finished, I just mean the stuff I have so far

 

 

I'm sorry to hear that man, hope everything is getting better for you in 2017. 

 

I think finishing what I have is my plan as well. Which gives me an idea to document what exactly I need to complete so that if I go nuts later this year (which is sadly very possible), I won't be kicking myself (as much).