Scourged

I'm not convinced that this would be an effective feint for a Raptors unit, but that's just because I'm applying a strict interpretation of the rules. Warp Strike specifically states that the rule is only applicable "during deployment." So yes, you could deploy the Raptors on the board, then immediately use Renascent Infiltration on them and put them into Strategic Reserves... but because the unit was not put into reserves during deployment, it would not have the ability to be placed anywhere on the board - it would be restricted to the Strategic Reserves board edges. So yes, you could, but giving up deep strike on Raptors (or other "deep strike" units) doesn't seem worth it. But I've never been the best rules lawyer, so if I'm wrong someone please correct me. Renascent Infiltration is still a great stratagem - and one of my favorites - but its power has been greatly reduced with the new book/rules: 6" instead of 3" away from enemies, it's used when a unit "is selected to move" instead of at the end of the Movement phase (so you can no longer Fall Back and use it), and is using Strategic Reserves instead of a baked-in deep strike for the unit. Small, subtle changes, but they add up to a very different application of the stratagem. More situational, but still useful in most any game: find the enemy's weaker board edge and then exploit it and punish them for it. There's still plenty of fun ways it can be used offensively, though: Using it to slingshot Troops up the board to try for sneaky Secondary scoring early in the game Getting chaincannon Havocs up the board faster to get in range for maximum shredding Being cheeky with melee Legionaries, Chosen, or Possessed Or, for a fun-but-dumb idea, sneaking a Master of Executions up the board for some backfield character hunting, lol

For those who've already mentioned it, I'm another one in the old lore camp. Thinking of the Alpha Legion as the little brother Legion is what always sold it for me. It made the fall to Chaos convincing, the way they followed Horus to the end. It made their adherence to unusual tactics understandable, because they wanted to prove themselves. There's a lot of stuff added by Forge World that I really like, little nuggets that really flush out their character. But I've never been impressed with anything that black library has done.

On an unrelated, more positive note... Sabotage is perhaps one of the bestest most awesomest stratagems ever. I've had a few games with our new rules so far, and have had a lot of fun with the tools we get. Headhunter is just so delightful, as is Scrambled Coordinates. But tonight, it a fun game with some mates, Sabotage got some work done. A ton of units were clustered around a wounded Rhino, and I delivered a crippling blow and it exploded. That, plus some wonderful D3 rolls for damage, and a ton of models just disappeared. It is literally the most satisfying command point I have ever spent. Also... for what it's worth... people just seem to be scared of Possessed, apparently. When you drop a squad of 10 of them onto the field, apparently that is a terrifying unit to behold, because the joint teammates I played against devoted a lot of shooting to take them down, despite the squad being -2 to hit (thanks Apostle!). So much fire was devoted to the squad. At the end of the day, they were blown off the table without being able to swing once. Lame, I know. But after two turns of concentrated shooting, they ate a ton of shots that other units didn't have to endure.

Their was a horrific gene flaw discovered by their chapter. The implant designed to strengthen and ossify their bones actually weakened them. Increasingly more and more at the mercy of shattered, broken, amd fractured bones they were deemed too weak to survive as a chapter. To save what little honor was left they embarked on a crusade into the Eye. But once inside, hope for their condition was found in the darkest places...

Their love of the machine turned them fanatical, and eventually heretical in the eyes of the Imperium and Mechanicus. Thus, they fled to the Eye that their lust for machina malifica could flourish. More and more they tampered with the dark side of technology, until a new breed of ai was born from their flesh and metal hands. These Adeptus Astartes Androidus became the masterpiece of this war band - fully functional Chaos Space Marines created in perfection with the beauty of metal. In word and action, each was indistinguishable from their mortal kin. But in appearance they hid no secrets when outside of their ceramite plating. But the Chaos Gods are never ones to let such an interesting occurrence pass without their touch. Soon these Machine Marines found flesh and sinew growing along their metal bones. Oil merged with blood. The androids crafted were mutating with warp touch, becoming imperfect cyborgs like their creators. In time, the men and the machines were one in the same. And for it, the war band grew and grew. ...this is the fun my brain has when commuting to work. Enjoy.

That is absolutely genius. A quick glance at the sprue reveals how easy a leg swap would be. Switch out chicken legs for crab legs and it's gold. Gives a vibe of an unaligned Blood Slaughterer. Get ahold of some mechatendrils, some spare chain and brass icons for good measure, a helping of gargoyle heads, and of course some skulls... Yup. I just may shamelessly "borrow" this idea!

I think the only "unique" thing Chosen can do (that I've read about) is cheap-ish combi-bolters and combi-flamers. They're less than half the cost of a Terminator squad when equipped with equal guns. Or, add a 6th Chosen with heavy bolter, throw them in a Rhino with a second combi-bolter attached, and the two squads are literally the same cost. Same investment, but with a bit of extra shots thrown in and a vehicle hull to use for whatever. Now does that make Chosen useful? I mean... probably not. It's all still just bolter fire (or flamers if you go the combi-flamer route). Use infiltrate and you can have yourself a squad of AL Headhunters, so that's neat. But yeah... Chosen really need something else besides this. Make them mini Exalted Champions: W2, WS2+(maybe? or maybe just on champ?), re-roll failed Wound rolls of 1 for the unit? Of course doing that I feel like this would end up invalidating Possessed so... yeah... I don't know. Better yet, give them the Plague Marine treatment: a brand new kit that includes brand new weapon options to the faction, and specific to the unit: Possessed bolters, Kai guns, mini-Daemon weapons, Ether lances... something!

Clean is how I keep my Alpha Legion, until i don't. Mark IV, Mark III, some Forgeworld kits, Mark VI for Raptors... because it'll be one hell of a contrast to the 'chaotic' models when they're mixed together. Sleek and clean Mk. IV for the rank and file, but then here come a wave of Possessed from chopped-up DV Chosen kits and other bits, or my eventual plan of Obliterators out of some chopped-up Bullgryn. For me, it's fits an old bit of fluff that the Alpha Legion would hide their mutations until they were face-to-face with the enemy, "adding horror and revulsion to the shock of their sudden attack." Horns and gribbly bits certainly have their place, but not necessarily with the entire army.

Another decent avenue is the Berzerker kit. It's old, but the torsos have a nice "Chaos sans spikes and gribbly bits" look. Yeah, you may need to file down a Khorne icon or two, but it's real easy. The legs and backpacks are a nice neutral Chaos too. Plus some great shoulder pads. Just not arms... They're a bit... Stubby. With cultists, the sky is the limit. The genestealer kit is begging for it. But really any "human with a simple gun" will work. Imperial Guard with Aquilas desecrated is a popular choice. I favor the Renegades and Heretics kit from Forgeworld. And I've seen a lot of chatter for using Necromunda gangers too.

Or it's that passionate drive for individuality. We break free from the imperium's oppressive shackles of uniformity and STC to find your own power and unique soul... At the risk of losing it all to the Eldritch horrors that truly power the universe, because the chance of true power is worth the risk. I mean, it's Chaos - we all find what we're looking for within the abyss as the darkness of the descent consumes us.

+1 for the obligatory Hydra Dominatus. But anyway... I've got to stray from the codex ever so slightly, because nothing - nothing! - for me can compete with the Decimator. Have you seen that thing? Hah, of course you all have. It is a thing of beauty. A perfect killing machine, the synthesis of Dark Mechanicum, Xenos, and Daemonic influences. That low sunk, Spartan-helmet head beneath those imposing jagged shoulders... the sheer might it radiates from the hunched-over pose as it walks... the tainted armaments of those siege claws, soul burner petard, or butcher cannon (suck it, Contemptors - Decimators had 'em first)... It just screams Chaos to me in a way that the 'fiends and the 'drake don't.

I went with the FW techmarine path like others mentioned. I liked the mkIV look of the armor, and think it works well. I kept him stock, save for adding some tendrils with some wire and various bits. When I get home I can upload a quick pick for reference.

A less-than-serious entry this time around. While ruminating on idea for this week, something struck me within the descriptions of the Exalted Champion - how they constantly fight for the attention of their patrons just for the chance to be noticed and rewarded. Enjoy my thinly-veiled silliness, friends. Hidden Content Within the Pit For days and days the spectacle raged in the pit. Warrior against warrior ruthlessly cutting the other down two further dwindle the numbers. All in the name of Sa’enp’aii, Daemon Prince of the realm, the Ossiferous King, and servant of Khorne. And so it was here that K’hai - Champion of the Ossiferean Ravagers, Exalted among Bloodletters, Slayer of Tsunda Rei, the Skull Reaper - continuously whet his blades and armor with blood of human and xenos and whatever filth crossed his path. His breath was still heaving in ragged gasps from the previous challenge. It had been a battle royale, K’hai pitted against seven other vying - unworthy that they were - champions. Each of them, like the scores more already dead or those waiting yet to fight, were all competing to gain the blessing and boon of Sa’enp’aii. Each had come to the Charnel Pits to prove that they would be the one to earn The Ossiferous King’s approving notice, that they would rise in the ranks of his growing daemonhost. But K’hai could not, and did not let them win. The other seven struck at each other with wild frenzy and abandon, screaming their bloodlust and murderous intent. Ignorant whelps. They were not champions, not like K’hai. K’hai knew that the hemorrhaging rage that burns from Khorne’s might must be controlled, not let control you. The Boiling of the Blood was a tool, not a crutch. And K’hai wielded that tool better than all those to yet appear in the pit. He severed each of their heads with his axe or his sword, denying them even a single victory over each other. All glory was to K’hai. Yet even as the battle ended supremely in K’hai’s favor, Sa’enp’aii took no notice. No time for acknowledgement or rest was given before the gates opened and flooded the Charnel Pit with a vast swarm of beasts. They had no unifying form, no repeated features, nothing at all that bonded them as a unified whole save for their ravenous hunger for whatever prey waited in the pit. The mutant rabble surged at K’hai, eager to fell him and taste his flesh. They could try. Thumbing the activation studs on his power weapons once more, K’hai launched himself into the stampeding horde, too impatient to let them crash upon him where he once stood. The Boiling of the Blood was rich in his double hearts once again, and he let it power his arms as they cut, slashed, tore, ripped, sliced, and gouged their weapons through the undulating mass of flesh before him. His legs moved his body away from every grasping hand or pseudopod, ducking from each swing of a club or claw. Ducking and weaving, striking and slicing, K’hai was whittling down the insatiable horde, bringing raucous cheers from the crowd as blood sprayed upon them all. In an hour’s time, the current round had concluded to rapturous fanfare from the tainted crowd of reverent worshipers and daemonic hosts. It was a glorious slaughter once again, with only K’hai left standing live within the pit. All praised his name, chanting it, save for one among the crowd. The Daemon Prince seemed unamused by the triumphs within the pit, paying little to no heed to the slaughter wreaked by K’hai. The games were not yet done, and K’hai had not yet proven himself best of all, but his impatience was finally boiling over. How many must he destroyed to gain the boons of his patron? How many surging legions of mortals must fall to his blades and hands to have his glories noticed by the Prince? How many skulls must he collect, how much blood must he spill, how much war must he wage?! Standing here, in the pit, ankle-deep in spilled viscera and dismembered limbs, K’hai could take it no longer. Throwing down his weapons, casting aside his horned helm, he screamed into the vast stadium above: “Notice me, Sa’enp’aii!”

Acuity Hidden Content Acuity Everything was in ruins. The cockpit was a mess of sparks and ruined machinery. Not even the finest of technicians and artisans throughout the vast collective of the network could repair the damage done weapon and blade. Nothing short of years of repairs would return the bridge to operational order. That mattered little, however, as the rest of the massive vessel was just as ruined, if not worse. The infiltration unit had struck with admirable precision to cripple and maim. Then once aboard they moved with an incoherent pattern, seemingly damaging and destroying areas at random. Only once the majority of the ship had been ruined beyond practical repair had the pattern of destruction made sense. The broken vessel had become a fitting and appropriate metaphor for the entire Cabal. It, too, was forever ruined, brought down in a lightning raid that none had predicted. Swathes of advanced xenos from all manner of the galaxy were macerated corpses and charred husks of flesh throughout the decks and chambers. What little remained of the intelligent collective was lying within the bridge, dying at the feet of the invaders. Pinned beneath one such foot was where Slau Dha was taking stock of the situation. Everything was lost. He, the remainder of the Cabal, and the galaxy had been damned to ruination. “You have… killed us all, mon-keigh. The galaxy’s death rests… rests on your shoulders.” The twisted and corrupted bulk of the cerulean Space Marine’s only response was to dig its heel into the autarch. The sudden painful pressure forced ragged coughs of blood from the crushed Eldar’s chest - an act that brought laughter from the various brutes scattered through the room. He did not have long left to live. “We shared with you the Acuity, showed you the paths of Fate. But you ignored them, and now existence is doomed.” “Nothing in this galaxy is certain, Eldar. Your Acuity is reliable, but not perfect.” This voice was new, but old. New to the collection of armored mon-keigh in the chamber, but old and familiar to the ears of Slau Dha. It was a voice he and the Cabal had spoken to many times, and argued with many more. It was the voice they had entrusted with the galaxy’s fate. Sure enough, the figure walking forward with slow steps wore armored plate that stood out from its subordinates. The blue-green iridescent scales covered every inch that was not adorned with polished silver trim. A long, double-bladed spear was clutched in one fist, while the other moved to remove the hydra-adorned helmet. Once pulled away, the autarch saw the bald head and unremarkable face of treachery. “Alpharius.” The words were not spoken by Slau Dha, but hissed out with seething hatred. Everything - everything! - had been entrusted with the Twins centuries ago. From them would come the salvation of the galaxy and the end to the Primordial Annihilator. Yet with each passing moment the tendrils of Chaos spread deeper throughout the galaxy’s existence. The XXth Primarch walked to stand above the fallen autarch. The previous mon-keigh pinning him down stepped away from Slau Dha, allowing its leader to bend down and rest on a single knee. The Primarch wished to converse, it seemed. To gloat, to revel in his victory today. Pointless. There was no victory, nothing to celebration. Only damnation. Where one warriors foot had been rested the armored hand of Alpharius. The touch was surprisingly light for such a genetically-modified behemoth. It was not placed there to keep the Eldar pinned - the strength rise and resist had faded from Slau Dha long ago. The hand was there to appraise the wounds, to assess how long he had to live. Alpharius wanted to ensure each and every word of his impending monologue would be heard by Slau Dha. The aged Eldar choked on contempt more than blood in that moment. Haughty mon-keigh. “No. My brother is dead by another’s hand. Half a galaxy away, I felt it happen. Do you know the feel of that pain, Eldar? To feel half of your soul removed, taken from you? It is death. When my brother died, I died. I am here, I exist. But I am incomplete without Alpharius.” “Fine. Omegon, then.” This brought a single laugh from the Primarch - not so much a chuckle, but a quick exhale through the nose with a grin. The naming distinction apparently mattered little to armored giant anymore. But then, from what Slau Dha remembered of the XXth Legion, labels like names never mattered anyway. “No. Not anymore. I’m neither. I’m both. I’m no one. I am everyone. I am Alpharius, just as he is, and he is, and he is,” the Primarch corrected, gesturing toward every Legionnaire in the dark room, “we are all Alpharius.” “We are Alpharius,” came the unison chant of all Legionnaires present. More coughing, more blood, more minutes slipping away from the dying Eldar. But the pain from internal hemoraging paled to the annoyance of dealing with such haughty mon-keigh. It was unbearable. The hubris of them all weighed unbearably heavy on Slau Dha, but the Alpha Legion always seemed to be the worst among them. The Cabal was wrong to ever trust them. That misplaced trust saw to it that the Primordial Annihilator had not burnt away like an overeager flame. It continued to smolder, the charred remains of its corruption spreading wider and wider with no indication that the embers would fade. Chaos was winning, and could not be stopped anymore. “You were… chosen to save the galaxy. You were to see to it that Horus won. This would-” “Horus was victorious. His talons pierced and seared the flesh of the Emperor, forever darkening the golden light. The corpse of the False Emperor was chained upon the Imperial Palace for all to see. The victory sent those still loyal to the cause fleeing to their Imperium Secundus. Terra fell, and Horus claimed it in our name. By the machinations of the Hydra your outcome was reached.” “No, mon-keigh! Chaos still lives, and thrives! You failed.” “How simple do you believe humanity to be? That one warlord could destroy an entire race because he felt guilt? That every last human would fall victim? You underestimated us. Your kind always has. The weaknesses of Horus were never shared by his brothers.” “I don’t-” A cerulean fist quickly clenched around Slau Dha’s neck, silencing him. The Primarch, it seemed, no longer wanted interruptions as he articulated his treasonous tale. The constriction of his windpipe forced the autarch to gasp and wheeze, desperate for any air that would fill his collapsing lungs. But the Primarch did not care. He continued his story, each new revelation horrifying Slau Dha more and more. “Of course you don’t understand. Your predictions were too narrow. Yes, once victorious the Gods withdrew themselves from the Warmaster. And yes, he would have damned us all with his self-destructive guilt. But the others were fit to take up his shed mantle. He commanded our war, but he was not the only general. “The Night Haunter was all-too-eager to kill the Lupercal when the seed of vindication was planted in his fractured mind. Warm suggestions of spreading the undivided word of Chaos through humanity inspired Lorgar. He took up the spiritual mantle of our Crusade, teaching humanity to embrace the Dark Gods. That the rebellious and faithless Imperium was commanded by Guilliman made Lorgar’s willing ascension even easier. Yes, Horus would no longer lead, but we no longer needed him to. A few whispers from the Hydra’s tongue ensured humanity would not die so easily.” The Primarch’s grip released and Slau Dha’s head slammed down onto the metal floor. The impact shook stars into his already darkening vision. The edges of his sight were now illuminated with cascading pinpricks of rainbow colors always beyond his eyes’ ability to focus. It helped distract from the pain in his chest, and the wet, ragged coughs that breathing now brought. He had only minutes left to live, but the Primarch waited for the autarch’s coughing fit to end before he continued to speak. “Those brothers chosen by the Gods needed no machinations from the Legion to continue their conquest. Not that they would listen, anyway. They are puppets of their new Masters. But still they fight our Crusade, slaughtering the dwindling loyalists with each passing decade. The Cyclops and the Wolf continue to fight a truly endless war of attrition that will last eternally. Mortarion is content with slowly spreading his filth wherever his Master wishes. The Phoenician seeks to finish what he started with the Iron Hands, when he’s not preoccupied with feasting on your kind. And Angron, well… it’s not as if he needed any extra motivation.” More laughter from the various mon-keigh in the room. How could this possibly be amusing to them?! They spoke so casually about endless and perpetuating death. And of their own species! Such sickening, disgusting animals. And for Slau Dha to fall victim by their hands would only bring him eternal shame. “And while they do run rampant, chasing the rebels here and there, Chaos spreads further into all of humanity. We have embraced it, but it does not consume us. We feed it, and it feeds us. It is not parasitic, but symbiotic. You and this Cabal were foolish to fight it. It is you, and you are it. It exists because the universe does, and vice versa. You have fought your very nature, and have died for it. But we have embraced it, and learned the universal Truth: no matter the outcome, Chaos always wins.” The sensation in Slau Dha’s delicate limbs was now gone. Soon, his physical life would expire and his soul would escape to the stone embedded in his chest. It would be safe there, free from pursuit from She Who Thirsts, but this vessel was sure to be his eternal tomb. Still, despite any rational instinct, the autarch was filled with a sudden curiosity that had yet to be sated. The motivations of the mon-keigh had never mattered to him before, but now, dying just as the galaxy was, a sudden compulsion enlightened his spirit. Slau Dha had to know, before his body died… he had to know why. “But why… why come for us? To what goal does… does it serve?” Alpharius stood once more in that moment, rising like a mountain above the fading Eldar. Ceremoniously, he reached for his serpentine helm and rested it upon his bald head and unremarkable face. Once secure, the eyes flashed bright red then dimmed to a slightly darker glow. The armored beast stared down at the autarch from on high, delicately bringing his spear around and pointing a tip at the broken chest of Slau Dha. The anti-energy field crackled and popped along the blade’s length as Alpharius finally answered. “My goals are as they’ve always been: my own. It is why I have convinced - with little effort needed - Perturabo to bring the severed head of Rogal Dorn. It is why I have chased you and your Cabal with every moment of my life since I first found myself truly alone in the universe. Dorn wielded the weapon that took him away from me, but you are the ones who killed my brother. Because of your manipulations, your prophecies, he saw his life cut away upon Pluto. And I am incomplete. But I wish to be whole again… the Immaterium is the resting place of all souls. My brother is there, our soul still alive amidst the Warp. If the Warp dies, then so does he. I cannot allow that. I want my brother back. But until I find a way to return him to me, I am content with vengeance.” “You… you have signed away every living being in the universe to damnation, all that you may revive your dead brother?!” “Yes. Have you ever heard of anything else so completely… human?” The Pale Spear pierced the chest of Slau Dha, vaporizing his flesh into oily smoke that wafted away into the vessel’s recyclers. Where once had been the Eldar’s torso was instead a gaping hole, all edges seared and smooth and flawless as the spear’s blade. The dim light in Slau Dha’s eyes faded to nothingness, filling instead the small gemstone now resting on the bridge’s decked floor. The filled soulstone near his spear’s tip did not escape Alpharius’ notice as he spoke to one of his subordinates. “Send word to the Children. I have a gift for Fulgrim, if he’ll have my audience.”

Just chiming in to say "Vow Complete." All painting is finished. Woo! Here's some final shots of the yet unposted minis: Hidden Content The Chosen squad The normal squad And finally, the two Sorcerers and a Lord Group photo!