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So as per usual I've been mincing around the idea and the willpower to kick back into a Tyrant's Legion force, but the thought of redoing auxilia that I did 50 odd years ago sort of killed the mojo. Anyway, I attended an amazing event called Preferred Enemy down in Melbourne Australia the other week, it was based very heavily around hobby, good looking/thematic armies and just having a good time (it was at a bowls club, so cheap beer always helps!). It has honestly sort of rekindled my enjoyment of 40k. Sure all the 8th edition issues are still there (who ever has more dice to throw at the enemy wins.. I hate to say it..but thats all that 40k is nowadays.. target priority and list building), but while there will always be those negatives, this weekend also showed the huge positives of 40k when played in the correct 'mood'. 95% of the armies where absolutely beautiful, and the other 5% are still leagues above what we normally see down around here as 'standard' 40k tournament fodder. Not only did the armies look nice, they all had a theme associated with them. Not to mention my 5 opponents where all absolutely stellar blokes!! (Thanks to Jason, Mark, Sean, James and Chris). So all in all, great day, atmosphere and hobby! Now the PE TO's are looking at doing a doubles tournament later this year which got a good friend of mines ears pricked.. as he always wanted to do guard.. but never had a direction to go with.. Cue me informing him about our one true savior, Lugft Huron... Thus we have our doubles project!! So I'll be doing a truescaled marine (god damn do the Primaris help with this instead of the hodge podge of terminator legs and assorted parts etc that was what had to be done 'before'... ) with him converting up some Guard to fit more with the Tyrant's Legion. I'll be running a super useless, overly elite army of only 14 models, that will no doubt get chewed off the table turn 1, young Byron will be running well over double that, but actually be bringing some bits and pieces that can do work. Our Current plan is something like this: Astral Claws Vanguard Detachment Lugft Huron 'Chaplain' Dreadnaught w/ Twin Lascannon 5x Veterans w/Assorted Gear 5x Veterans w/Assorted Gear Apothecary Chapter Ancient Tyrant's Legion Straken (has marine stats, so will be a marine commander in the guard contingent ) Leman Russ Tank Commander Gunnery Seargent Harker 3x 10 Man Guard Squads Wyvern Basilisk So as you can see, the armies don't have a whole lot of synergy, but will look cool on the battle field. Byron will no doubt crop up later with some bibs and bobs, but I'll just chuck up some of my WiPs. I Started with my Chapter Ancient as I really wanted this to look like the last hurrah of the Astral Claws, so Huron surronded by hard as nails survivors, with precious chapter relics around him (Thus the Chaplain Dread, will be more an icon of hate dread based on a Leviathan chassis, the chapter standard etc). So the reason I went Chapter over company ancient is I wanted to the 2+ save so I could 'fluff' him having terminator armour. I've done a single truescale termaintor before, but there was no way to really 'mass produce him'. I've had a bag of Custodes termies rattling around the house for 6 odd months now and after seeing what @apologist managed, it put my arse into gear to try it out! I opted to go the normal terminator 'cowling' as not to have it too show boaty, as Astral Claws alsways seem a bit more a functin over form sort of chapter. It also has the benefit of making the terminator marginally 'taller due to the location of its head, so it doesn't look too short next to Huron who is based off a Horus mode.. So next up I was just going to chuck one of the new primaris banners on him, but upon research, that just seems to be standard form nowadays and is a little 'eh'.. and after seeing the excellent picture of Ancient Galatan that has been around for years I wanted by banner to be (well not that crazy large) still pretty big and impressive given it is the 'chapter banner' which always had such a big emphasis in older fluff. Cue a large basic banner. This required a rolling pin, all the baking paper and over half of my remaining GS (off to ebay I go). It also required some dancing between running it under hot water and into the freezer so I could cut out the shape and get it thin enough. Here you can see the basic out lay of it, just to get the feel. So in this pic we have it next to Huron (who still after a year needs some tidying) which shows the termy scaling pretty well next to him. I've worked in major folds into the banner, but it will stil require more selective 'creasing' in areas tonight once the 'scaffold' of it has set. Anyway that's all I have to show at the moment, I'll be finishing another 5 veterans tonight so will get some pics up of them. Most of Byron's gear is on the way to him so we'll no doubt start to see his conversions cropping up soon (I'm looking quite forward to his basilisk and wyvern).

CLAWS IN OUR STARS ADEPTUS ASTARTES: ASTRAL CLAWS PROLOGUE: To be lost is an error in judgement - old friend. We chose the path of honour against an uncaring Imperium. What right does anyone have to question our strength? Why do you not see? You thought as I. The Strong, are Strongest...Alone.

File location: Carnac Commodus, personal log Date of entry: 5901 715 m41 Security clearance requirements ###OVERRIDDEN### “The tyrants aspirations are bold, it has to be said, but I fear they are unrealistic. To recreate the power of a legion, to quell a sector and bring full compliance and imperial authority. The emperor and his sons failed to achieve this at the height of the crusade, how can one astartes, no matter how gifted succeed where even the most mighty have failed? These are perhaps delusions of grandeur, and I fear we will suffer the same fate as those who preceded us. History will mark us traitors to the imperial cause and then, cut off from the throne, who will we turn to in the darkness? My misgivings matter little, it has already been set in motion and now we are carried along with the tide. We are bound to his fate and therefore we must press on if there is any hope that his endeavour will succeed……” Arch Centurion Carnac Commodus

View File Down In Flames (A Fire Hawks Short Story) The Lycanthos Drift Campaign is almost over. To secure the Widowmaker Bastion, a force of Space Marines from the Fire Hawks Chapter is given the honour of subjugating the outlying Sentinel Fort. Infested with Chaos Space Marines of the Bleak Brotherhood and their traitor guardsmen, the Fort's existence prevents heavy siege guns being laid by the men of Krieg, and threatens the right flank of Lugft Huron's assault. As part of the task force, Knight-Sergeant Emeryk Zann is keen to win glory and honour for his Chapter and the God-Emperor, but as he discovers, this assault is little more than a deadly Forlorn Hope - one that even his Chapter Master, the gruff Knight-Commander Stibor Lazaerek wants to fail... Submitter Mazer Rackham Submitted 04/12/23 Category Background (Lore)  

Deep within Hive Borealis, in the armoured vaults that served as a command center to the forces of the Maelstrom Dominion, Cyrandras Rakash was bored beyond belief. Not that he would allow that to show outwardly. With his arms crossed and his pale, chiseled chin resting between the armoured thumb and index finger of his right hand in a classical thinking pose, the Lexicanus was the very model of the dedicated strategist, immersed in his observations regarding the information displayed by the hololithic campaign table in front of him. Not that any information here was new. Also, the next steps of the campaign were quite obvious and, in fact, already agreed on. Still, the situation on display was currently hotly debated by several individuals around the projection table, over said table as well as in varying stages of agitation and responding levels of verbalized noise. Appendages were waved, boldly sweeping through wire mesh representations of mountains and fortifications. Fingers were thrust aggressively through ghostly images, aiming at enemy positions half a continent away as often as at the faces of opponents only a table length away. Any third rate observer would have been able to quickly perceive that, apart from the obvious military objectives at hand, other battle lines were drawn and besieged here regarding the interest of the various parties at hand. Local interests. Mortal Interests. Factors that, again, had already been factored into the developing situation. Inwardly, Rakash sighed. Here was one of the core problems of the Imperium in a nutshell. The Strategium was brimming with mortals. And mortals were so easily distracted and tended to obsess over little details while missing relevant data. They tended to overemphasize their own needs and interests and quarreled over petty slights with little regard to the bigger picture. And from such a more detached, strategic point of view, the Surngaard campaign was already a success. The Fortress world provided a major lynchpin in this region of the Maelstrom Zone. Sadly, it's leadership had been found frustratingly fixated on their adherence to the structures of the wider Imperium and thus spectacularly near sighted and even blasé to the worlds around them. Lufgt Huron himself had denounced them as " a densely layered amalgam of ossified inbred bunker rodent excrements" during an entirely different -and vastly more entertaining - Strategium session Rakash had humbly accompanied his superiors to some decades ago. Thus considered unreliable and unwilling with the idea of forming up with a more efficiently run Maelstrom Dominion under the aegis of the Astral Claws, plans had been drawn up and measures put into action long before the current crisis had developed. Petty mortal short sightedness would not be allowed to hamper the defense of the Tyrant's domain for much longer. In his function as an Envoy of his Chapter among the retinue of the Rogue Trader vessel "Retribution of Cygnax", Cyrandras Rakash had been involved in coordinating such efforts on Surngraad as well as several other worlds at the behest of First Captain Corinne Sumatris for some time now. The rulers of the Fortress World had developed their siege mentality and adherence to inflexible orthodoxy in the face of the bordering Warp anomaly long before the Astral Claws and it's current brother chapters had assumed the mantle of Wardenship. From their point of view, Rakash assumed, they had stood and weathered the hordes of xenos, mutants and heretics that had been throwing themselves against their walls for millennia on thru own and so they could, and would, wait out any of the current disputes likewise. As expected, the ruling Synode of Surngaard had therefore politely refused to accept an invitation by combined naval and ground forces of the Chapter - who were conveniently resupplying in the system when hostilities broke out elsewhere between the factions involved in what was now called the "Badab Schism" - to be advised and coordinated by the Astral Claws in defending the Maelstrom Dominion for the duration of the emergency. Of course, the same environment that had developed that petrified fecal assembly which then drew the ire of the Tyrant had also spurned and ignored the growth of other on planet factions to which the Astral Claws had then chosen to look into instead. In any society, there would always be people disillusioned and unhappy with the status quo. Nobles and guildmasters with ambitions above their station. Grizzled veterans who felt their commanders lacked the guts to do “what was necessary”. Experienced officers who had been kept back in favour of better connected but less talented peers. The overly pious who felt that their jaded overlords had fallen from the grace of the God Emperor. Centuries old blood feuds and economic clashes constantly bubbling beneath the surface. Untapped Hoards of Anger, of Hope, of Fear were bottled up beneath the ferro-concrete shell of the Surngraad fortress walls. Exploring, cataloging and exploiting these hidden stratae of knowledge and opportunities now fell to the Astral Claws Librarius, which had quietly been expanded to encompass these duties. By Imperial degree, such endeavors would have once been the purview of the Inquisition. But as the Chapter became increasingly disappointed as well as distrustful of the Holy Ordos and their -often conflicting- agendas, the Astral Claws had begun to establish a section of the Librarius dedicated to these task, unwilling to further rely on external assets for intelligence work in the defense of their realm. A task to which, much to his own surprise, Cyrandras Rakash had taken to with increasing fervor. While it often lacked the sheer brutal intensity of a direct confrontation in the more Codex compliant traditional form of Astartes warfare, Rakash soon learned to appreciate the tension and the thrill of these activities which could be liked more to a slowly developing game of Regicide than the short bouts of rock, paper, chainsword commonly accompanying the duties of a warrior of the Adeptus Astartes. His signature smile broadened a bit. Sealed within the encrypted data mills of his trusty servo-skull were the vox and pict captures attesting to the sheer sense of disbelief displayed by the rulers of Surngraad when most of their orbital and in-system defense grid along with the majority of the northern hives had welcomed the Astral Claws with open arms and requested their aid in defending the world. Those data chunks were of no real value to the war effort. Even so, Cyrandras considered them priceless. and so, the naval forces of the Maelstrom Dominion now successfully blockaded the system. Half the planet had declared their allegiance to the Dominion. The Fortress World was (mostly) structurally intact and would thus still serve as a subsector bulwark in the future. Those that still held to the leash binding them to the Adeptus Terra and their blinded attack dogs were boxed in, unable to lend support the enemies of the Dominion. Total planetary compliance was, at the moment at least, not really achievable with the resources at hand but neither had it been deemed necessary at this phase of the operation. Surngraad had been effectively denied to the enemy. The Mission was already successful. The current main objective was to uphold this status by keeping their opposition occupied and on the defensive. That was all. The mortal hotheads arguing around the table might shout and wish or dream otherwise, but it would make little difference. Breaking the lines and achieving a true planet wide compliance would require an amount of additional forces, Astartes forces in particular, that were currently much more urgently needed -and better used- elsewhere. Case in point, what little advances into enemy territory had still recently been achieved and those forces which kept the pressure on the imperialist lines were elements of the now so called "Tyrant's Legion" and owed their success mainly to the transhuman capabilities of the embedded Astartes. Even so, the bulk of holding the line still fell to the regiments of the planetary defense force. Mortal forces. And thus forces without direct Legion supervision. At least, for the time being. And therefore, appearances had to be maintained. Mortal vanities had to be endured. It was irritating, but understandably necessary. But it wasn't particularly thrilling. Around the Lexicanus, the mortals kept bickering. Cyrandras allowed his mind to drift, looping it through a routine if mental exercises. One of his favorites involved going through his mental archives and developing interesting deaths for the person under his attention’s focus. The Lexicanus considered himself neither particularly spiteful or murderous nor particularly cruel. He just considered it a method of examining and updating his personal recollection of data on the people around him by looking at it through that particular lens. He often set himself different tasks, such as a way to eliminate the person he examined in the most stealthy way , or with the most public exposure, the most or least painful technique involved, and so on. In this way, Rakash considered the exercise both an effective tool to hone his mental facilities as well as entertaining and quite relaxing. By his count, the Lexicanus had killed of the entire assembly almost a dozen times since the meeting had been joined. In fact, it was getting a bit too relaxing for his taste. His eyes moved around and found, then held the gaze of the only other ranked Astartes in the Strategium for a moment. The mental focus shifted. The massive form of Centurion Ortiz Druz loomed over the quarreling mortals around him, his scarred features apparently unmoved by their antics. It was easy to see why the stoic Space Maine commanding the Legion elements involved in the Surngraad liberation had been nicknamed "Vuori" - "the Mountain" by the locals. Druz was a taciturn commander who excelled at both siege craft and armoured warfare. The Centurion had repeatedly shown his skill at using the forces under his command to the upmost of their capabilities and with a cool ruthlessness that would have made a member of vaunted Iron Hands weep oily fluids. But it didn't take a telepath' s gift to perceive that even that glacial patience was slowly but inevitably coming to an end. Across the room, Rakash realized Ortiz Druz was butchering his way through a mental homicidal maze of his own but with a very different approach. And probably a much more drastic outcome. Delighted by this new angle to the situation, Cyrandras began changing his own mental exercises and turned his focus towards predicting the Centurion's most likely target priorities. He was interrupted by an approaching orderly carrying a dataslate. The mortal saluted with the jerking awkwardness of an over-wound clockwork toy soldier. "Apologies, my Lord. Urgent transmission from the Retributation of Cygnax" the young man whispered. His paleness was of an entirely different hue than that of the Lexicanus'. Few mortals faced a warrior of the Adeptus Astartes without unease or often outright fear even away from the battlefield. Yet unlike some of his brethren -especially those serving with the expanded Legion of Badab - Cyrandras did not particularly enjoy that reaction among the mortals serving along him. Fear might "keep them in line", as some lost military philosopher of Old Earth was often quoted, the Lexicanus had always considered fear a double edged blade at best. Loose your grip on it and there was no telling who might get cut. Ah, but what about affection? That was entirely different beast! Rakash nodded and smiled warmly at the orderly, carefully taking the slate from the mortal's shaking hands. "Jhons , isn't it? I hear your sister is recovering from her injury after the air raid?" Not that the Librarian actually, particularly, cared for either the mortal or his kin. But the eidetic memory of his transhuman mind soaked up such detritus almost by accident and Rakash had found using these random snippets eased interactions with mortals by an almost ludicrous degree. The Librarian had taken to keep a record of things important to the people surrounding him for just these occasions. Even if he lacked the time (or interest) to store these facts away in his mental fastness himself, he would at least keep the servoskull' s memory coils updated to them. It was quite amazing what mortals were willing to do when they thought one genuinely cared for them… Fear might indeed keep the mortal lot in line, but affection made them bind themselves in chains of adamantium and then made them love you even more for it. And sometimes, in his heart of hearts, Cyrandras wondered if this had been the God-Emperor's intention all along in allowing the whole mess that was the Imperial Creed to exist in the first place. His smile broadened a bit at the thought of this delightful little heresy. "Yes, my Lord." The orderly straightened visibly as he utterly misinterpreted that smile. Changes in heart rate, respiration, perspiration and pheromone levels indicated a switch from fear to expectant anxiety as the mortal was recognized by one of the Emperor's own Angels. "And yes, she... I mean.. Yes, my Lord! My sister..." Cyrandras nodded politely and then pushed the mortal's drowning from his active attention. He would sift through the audio recordings of his servo skull later, in case there was a significant morsel of information contained within the orderly' s rambling. Scrolling down the volumes of text on the slate, the Lexicanus noted a set of cyphers hidden within the avalanche of reports that continuously kept pouring in during an operation of this scale. He then raised the slate slightly, breathing over it before rubbing off some imaginary flecks of dust. He made sure to include just the right amount of spittle in this to activate the gen-sensitive lock keyed to the pad. The text on the slate's screen twitched twice, fussed, pixelated, the images blurring. Rakash tapped his armoured index finger to screen to display his irritation, then shook the device slightly until it resumed it's proper function moments later. He then took his time to finish reading the regular files for some time. Rakash then returned the slate to the orderly, still smiling. "Thank you, Jhons . Carry on. And give my regards to your sister. The Emperor protects". The orderly saluted sharply and strode of as if he had been just called into service by the God Emperor himself. In Cyrandras mind, the mortal practically ceased to exist the moment he turned away and returned to his thinking pose. Any information regarding the man was flushed away to the vaults on the outskirts of his his mind. The Librarian closed his eyes, as if to better focus on the information he had just received. In reality, the Lexicanus instead retrieved the glitched images from his mental archives. These “glitches” had been just fragments, visible for only for the briefest fracture of a second, but the code cypher had given the Librarian time to prepare his focus and now, in Cyrandras mind, he could perceive the hidden message like a still frame from a patchy pict recording. New Orders. And.. a summoning? The First Captain had recalled him to Badab Primaris to receive instructions for another operation. The nature of this operation was obviously not included into a summons via astropath, even one coded and hidden away in megapulses of less sensitive campaign data. So this operation was probably of a more... delicate.. nature. Interesting. And, hopefully, more entertaining than his current positing. Eyes still closed, the Librarian subvocalized a coded phrase hidden in a litany of dedication to the God Emperor, which his ever present servoskull picked up promptly and relayed to his Chapter serfs who were right now busy elsewhere inside the vast polar fortress. Upon receiving the code phrases, they would immediately begin preparations for his departure. Patience was not a virtue often attributed to the the First Captain. Other matters would have to be settled after the current session in the Strategium was closed, though. Agents would have to be contacted and their operations adjusted to his absence. Redundancies were in place of course, but up to now, Cyrandras had expected he’d be overseeing on-world operations for some time as the siege continued. Now, they would have to be transferred to other handlers and Rakash had to ensure that operations would smoothly continue after his departure. But the Librarian did not expect that to cause any real delay. Rakash also had no doubt that Centurion Druz would soon receive an astropathical dispatch shortly via more official lines of communicatio in which the redeployment of the Lexicanus would be requested along the proper chain of command. The forms had to observed, after all. But it would probably be linked to a vastly less conspicuous endeavor. The Defenders of the Maelstrom did not suffer from a shortage of enemies at this point. Making it seem as if having already begun preparations because of an " insight gained from meditating on the current state of the war and it's reflection in the Warp" was a nice touch to keep up his reputation before leaving. Cyrandras Rakash was no longer bored. He opened his eyes. Across the table, the mortals were still arguing, but the Lexicanus no longer cared. He would wrap up his operations here shortly and was eager to answer the call to a new challenge elsewhere. His smile became a bit more loop sided. One could surely say a lot about First Captain Sumatris. And a lot of it would properly not be nice. But whatever Sumatris was intending for him to participate in, it would certainly be challenging. And, most certainly, not even remotely boring.....

To the Inquisitor-Legate in command of Imperial Forces in the Badab War: Dear Inquisitor, This message will be passed on from one of your agents directly to you, I apologise for the nature of the delivery but I feel the situation requires it. It has recently come to my attention that Chapter Master Lufgt Huron will not back down from the position he has been forced into, to him the mere thought of surrendering what was given to the Chapter he now commands is impossible in his mind. Despite this befitting an Astral Claw it does cause me grave concern. Who I am and what I plan on doing is of no importance yet, however I understand that given the Betrayal at Grief that simple trust is something that neither side can afford to give. As such I have attached some note worthy locations that your Agents in those systems will be able to verify after knowing what to look for. I await your response. Regards, A Member of the Maelstrom Warders ---- ---- ---- Pic-Capture Sagan System Sagan III #~- Error Exact Location Unknown Administratum Complex ----- Upload complete ---- Unknown Astral Claw ---- Pic Capture Inquisitorial Stormtrooper Squad Attached to Inquisitor Kaylai Squad KIA Inquisitorial Retinue KIA Inquisitor Kaylai MIA ---- Audio Located Uploading --- Upload Complete Voice Matched Inquisitor Kaylai We forgot that the Astral Claws are Lions. Yes they fight to the death when they deem it vital, yes they fight in the silver and lapis, but we forgot one thing about them. They are Lions. They Hunt, and they will wait for their Prey to fall into their sights before striking. They are Lions afterall. --- End Log Inquisitor Kaylai didn't even see it coming, she was searching the genatorium sector of the Administratum Complex. She had a full squad of Stormtroopers, equipped with Plasma weaponry, as well as her own small retinue. That should have been enough. It wasn't. Five Stormtroopers died first, two of which had the plasma weapons, four had time to raise their weapons but only one fired before they were killed as well. It didn't fire, it cut, it stabbed and it bludgeoned with is limbs. Without stopping from where it had been hidden in the wall, they didn't hear the thrum of it's Power Armour over the generators and that was what killed them. Her retinue was dead, Commissar Freia died last. The Lion's combat bade shoved into her eye socket, her head was too small and a third of the blade protruded from the back of the skull. With a flick Freia's body was thrown to one side and Kaylai looked up into the Lion, seeing nothing but death. She didn't fire, her laspistol - however well crafted it was - would hardly damage the paint, instead she raised her Power Sword but the Lion just stared at her. 'I am not here to kill you, Inquisitor Kaylai. Agent to Inquisitor-Legate Jarndyce Frane.' 'Then why did you kill them?' She started to back away but the Lion stalked forward after her. 'They were in my way. You will come with me.' 'And it I don't?' It moved just as quick as it had done when it first struck, one second her Power Sword was pointed at it the next it was on the floor with her hand still attached. She clamped down on her arm, trying and failing to stop the blood loss. She didn't see the Lion with her sword. It pressed it against her forearm which now ended just before the wrist and she screamed at the pain. 'You will live.' Consciousness fading, she saw the Lion reach out and grab her. 'Someone needs you as a messenger.'

So, I read the three Night Lord novels by Aaron Dembski-Bowden some time ago... I guess I liked them, though I am not as crazy about them as some seem to be. The depiction of the battles were ok and I really liked how they described how it feels to fight in power armour, but some parts were a little long... Anyways, what really bothers me since is that I don´t really understand this one character, Variel from the Red Corsairs/ Astral Claws. He is an apothecary at this space station of the Corsairs and helps regulary to ease Hurons pains from the injuries he got back at Badab. His motivations are still a mistery to me. I mean, yes, we hear that, he has some sort of past with the warband of Talos and that Talos saved his life once. But why exactly does he join the Night Lords and leaves his Corsair brethren behind? He doesn´t really seem to like them for some reason, but we still don´t get to know why... He seems quite committed to the cause of Talos and this idea of his to fulfil his gene-fathers ideas, but I don´t really understand what makes this important to him. The Corsairs seem far better equipped, organized and generally more succesful than the Night Lords who show no unity whatsoever and mostly hate eahc others guts. Why join them? As Talos said to him more or less "you owe me" (because i saved your life), he answers "Yeah, well I just saved yours" (from the reoccuring complications with his geneseed/ his prophetic gift). Which just makes total sense to me! But in the end, somehow he seems to be convinced like he got to join the Night Lords now and leaves the Corsairs. He then is for the rest of the trilogy (appearing in the middle of the second novel and joining them at roughly the end of the book) part of this Night Lords warband and seems to be a crucial character until the very end (appearing in the epilog years after Talos´ death). Could someone explain me why he is doing, what he is doing? I might have mixed some things up. If that´s the case, I´m sorry. It´s been a while since I read the books and English is not my first language, thus I sometimes don´t remember things that good as in German. Greetings, Velype

In the Ashes of the Thorns And who are you, the Tyrant said, that I should bend the knee Twelve high Lords on a far-off world, ‘tis all that I can see By a gilded seal, or a silver’d one, a Lion has his Claws And mine are cruel and sharp, my Lords, more cruel and sharp than yours. And so it came to pass, that in the 903rd year of the 41st millennium, a century before the Imperium would be shaken to its core and everything forever changed, Lugft Huron, Lord of Thorns, Chapter Master of the Astral Claws, and self-proclaimed Tyrant of Badab, did declare "just seccession" from the Imperium and, in so doing, ignite what was then the greatest conflict of our age. Alas, such was not to be, and if we could have seen what was yet to come within the next, darkest millennium, we might have counted ourselves lucky to be spared the horrors that came after Badab. Brother fought brother in a decade long war that saw seventeen warrior-brotherhoods of the Adeptus Astartes clash against each other in open conflict. Billions died and entire Chapters of Space Marine were condemned to crusades of Penitence, and even now, considering the horrors they would have to confront before that term was ended, it is impossible to say whether or not they survived. The war was brutal and bloody, with countless tales of equal parts valor and dishonor. These stories are too numerous to be told in full here. But even among every engagement throughout the war -- the Fires of Sacristan, the Angstrom Incident, Crow's World, and numerous others -- there is one that stands head and shoulders above the rest by the sheer measure of its violence and the gravity of its consequence. I speak, of course, of the final battle, the Siege that ended the War. I speak of the moments after the Tyrant found himself to stand alone among his manse in defiance of the Imperium of a Million Worlds upon his shadowed Throneworld. I speak of the Siege of Badab Primaris, and the Fall of the Palace of Thorns, when Lugft Huron, the Lion of Badab, died, his Claws with him, and something terrifying and black-hearted born into his place. Badab Primaris 913.M41 Long and hard had been the war, and many had already died among the Chapter. Yet more would die before the end. The smoke rising from the south meant that Surraek’s force had encountered the enemy. Most likely he and his charge of the Chapter now numbered among the honored dead, if the reports of the ferocity of the Carcharadon Astra were to be believed. Bashar Reyne glowered at this realization. This meant that unless the unlikely happened and they were reinforced, or the impossible happened and Surraek had actually survived the assault, he was the ranking officer in this sector. Turning away from the spiked parapet he stood at, he faced his command. Two depleted Tactical Squads lay at his disposal, his own and Cinnebre’s. Not enough. Not nearly enough, he thought. The Sharks had been reaping across Badab for days now, leaving a red wake behind, and they would be here in a matter of hours. The Claws would die here, he knew. There was no escape. Not now. Perhaps years ago, in the early days of the war, there might have been the possibility. But after ten years of fighting those loyal to the High Lords, ten years, brutal and bloody and restless, there was no return. The die had been cast and nought would change the number it showed upon its upward facing, save for the sweet release of death. So here the Astral Claws would make their final stand – upon the surface of their home – and so here they would die, but not before they reaped a terrible price from their attackers. A feeling came over Bashar Reyne then. Throughout the brutal centuries of his life, from the day he was first chosen to be a Neophyte of the chapter, through his days as a Marine of the Line in Tactical Squad Kherradan, through Veterancy and through his days serving first as a Sergeant, and later the honor of Veteran Sergeant, it was a feeling he had never known throughout war and strife. Peace. Reyne very nearly smiled at this realization, that he had accepted his final fate, but outwardly the grimace upon his face may well have been chiseled from stone from all it showed. A careful observer might have noted a slight shift in his eyes with this thought, but been unable to recognize it. Such a thing requires context, after all, and Bashar Reyne was not a Space Marine known for levity, but rather harshness and ill-compromise. To his men, only one thing he had to say before the end. “Die well.” It was a promise, as much it was an order. As the lights of hive spires began to go out as a wave approaching, heralding the arrival of some great cthonian marine predator, and a deathly silence began to replace the sounds of gunfire in the distance, Bashar Reyne ignited his power maul and awaited his end. Requiescat in Pace Veteran Sergeant Bashar Reyne of the Astral Claws Depicted as he was after taking overall battlefield command after the death of Tyrant's Centurion Surraek, Badab Primaris <urban combat//Zone Mortalis>, 913.M41. Confirmed KIA. Body found dismembered.

Hey all, About half a decade ago a completed a large Tyrant's Legion army, which coincided well with the release of 6th (all the allied rules om nom nom). I first fell in love with the Tyrant's Legion back when I first borrowed the Badab War books off of a mate. I also loved truescale marines, but to me they needed to compared to something to really show off their size. So obviously before the advent of 6th, the Tyrant's Legion was really the only 'legal' way of doing it. Anyway here is a pick of my efforts from a few years ago: http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KiE3UxxAJV4/UD7JrfKPzmI/AAAAAAAAABo/F74e_P91cv0/s1600/20120829_185236.jpg So was quite happy with them at the time, and they are probably still serviceable now. Now with the advent of readily available truescale fodder (weather it is plastic HH kits or Primaris) and a wealth of 'correct' pieces of kit for the auxilia (plastic Autoguns now a thing, stuff like Victoria minatures etc) I thought I'd try a reimagining of the 5th Tyrant's Legion. Now to just leeroy jenkins into it, I started a Horus-Huron conversion many years ago (only 'bigger' terminator army available at the time) and never got around to finishing it. So I've recently pulled my finger out and laid into it with wanton abandon. The imagine below is what he looked like for the 2.5 years he was sitting on the back burner: Now was pretty happy with him there...was basically sketched out. He was even just using the 'basic' ghost razors (think about how small they would of looked) But I've gotten a little bit better with GS and converting in the last few years so opted to really lay into the bastard. I worked with the picture of him from the Badab Book and tried to 'tick' off all the major pieces of him and his model that stood out to me, this is where I'm at now. To me the orginally Lugft Huron model (same as Culln) didn't have enough 'going on' for a full blown chapter master, so I went a bit nuts on him. To me this is much later in the war Huron, rarely dis armours, is starting to really lean more toward the sketchy, dark character he was by the end. I opted to swap out Horus Cloak (was going to sculpt a lion skin on top of the 'joiny' bits) but I just before being happy with the model I saw an Angron cloak floating about and whipped that on him. Sculpting isn't as amazing as the FW on the fur (is my one major weakness) but hopefully the style looks similar to the FW stuff. I think the skull and chains also lends it to the darker, later Huron. I will also be intending on painting the fur as a tiger's skin. Tie it in a little bit with the Tiger Claws, maybe a gift from their leader or some :cuss. Any way, that is as far as I've gotten with him at the moment. I'll be using 'Ultramarines' as the 'Astral Claws' keyword, and I'll be using 'Catachan' as the 'Tyrant's Legion' Keyword (this is mainly due to Straken being essentially a marine, so he'll probably end up being Carnac Commodus or some such to a bunch of Auxilia (Conscripts). Anyway, if using the Ultramarine rules, I obviously needed Huron to be puppa smurf.. So just swapped out words in his rules to make him Lugft Huron (no stats or anything changed, just flavour words etc) Anyway, after that giant post, I'll try and keep this kicking along at a decent pace as I've just completed a Kreig Army, so this one will be more of a modeling project than a "need this army done quick to use" sort of thing :P. Also let me know if I've missed any blatantly 'Huron' things on his model, I tried to tick all the 'flavour' off (necklace etc) but let me know!! Thanks for reading!!

Musical Accompaniment http://i.imgur.com/SwVkTqj.jpg http://i.imgur.com/uXLLZ3d.jpg Our Honour was Loyalty For more than five thousand years, the Astral Claws stood shoulder to shoulder with the finest of the Imperium's warriors, their deeds legendary and their honour unquestioned. Loyal to the Emperor's throne, they exemplified the ideals of the Adeptus Astartes, strong and fearless as the golden lion of their heraldry. It was their glorious record of exemplary service that saw their standard placed in the Hall of Heroes at the Eternity Gate and won them the singular honor of command to the Maelstrom Warders. And above them all was Lufgt Huron, a true hero of his age, believed to be second only to legends of ancient past. The Astral Claws watched over the Maelstrom and paid the blood price of vigilance. When brothers fell and were drawn away, they remained ever watchful. When the caress of madness and corruption spilled into reality, they remained ever watchful. When their pleas for aid were met with not but silence, they still remained ever watchful. Fate is a cruel and pitiless wheel that spins the thread of an eternal tragedy. Perhaps Fate might have written a different path if another had sat on the throne of Badab, but it was Lufgt Huron who took the crown of thorns and assumed the mantle of eternal guardian to the Ruin Storm. The Astral Claws stood at the teetering precipice of annihilation, of failure in their duty to the Emperor. In pride, the Astral Claws sought to defy the hand of Fate. In desperation, they did everything to uphold their loyalty and sowed the roots of their own damnation. Pict-feed taken at the siege of the Palace of Thorns, subterranean sewer system Subject Unknown - Status Unkown ...... Commencing imagifier correction Processing...