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Origins The Knights Adamant were a chapter of Ultramarine gene-stock. Up until their distinguished service in quelling a devastating Hrud migration from the Ghoul Stars, the chapter was fleet based. The Knights Adamant had never previously encountered a threat as grave as the Hrud, and the conflict left a mark on the chapter culture. The Hrud’s ability to accelerate entropy, prematurely aging enemy troops and degrading enemy materiel make them a particularly deadly species of alien. The chapter watched in horror as entire Agri-Worlds withered and died, and whole hives collapsed under their own weight as the steel girders holding them up oxidized and crumbled. The effect on the Imperial Guard regiments the chapter was fighting alongside was even more chilling. Young conscripts grew old and frail in a matter of minutes. Fuel lines degraded as if they had not been maintained for decades and vehicles would not function, no matter how the machine spirit was appeased. Not even the transhuman physiology of the marines of the Knights Adamant kept them safe. By the end of the campaign, barely enough marines to field two companies survived. The highest ranking officer still surviving, and not interred in a dreadnought, was a techmarine named Nikola Carnot. In a controversial move, Carnot took up the mantle of Chapter Master. To calm suspicions about his dual dedication to the chapter and to Mars, Carnot formally renounced his vows to the Machine Cult, a slight that would not be forgotten for the rest of the chapter’s service. Carnot also declared that the chapter would begin construction of a fortress monastery on the surface of MX-115, a planet recently reclassified from Hive World to Dead World, where the Hrud incursion had been most destructive. The post-apocalyptic landscape of the planet served as a morbid reminder of what was lost, and the threats that humanity needed protection from. Possibly due to the analytical mind of their Chapter Master, or possibly due to the macabre landscape where they made their home, the Knights Adamant became obsessed with entropy as a physical quantity. It alone determined the fate of any chemical reaction or process. To the chapter, entropy proved an even greater threat than any xenos ever would. They scoured the sector for ancient texts and data repositories where the sages of antiquity described the esoteric rules by which entropy determines all of existence. These heretical texts marked the downfall of the chapter, for in opening their minds to the idea that there existed a fundamental property of the universe that not even the might of the Imperium – not even the might of the Emperor Himself – could overcome, they had damned themselves. Over the next few centuries, the Knights Adamantine returned to near full strength. A silent feud with the Machine Cult of Mars had left the armouries of the chapter with fewer vehicles than the Codex dictates, but the chapter was flush with marines and their genestocks were full. Carnot had also tasked his chaplains with compiling the Index Thermodynamica, a treatise outlining how best to limit the resources lost to the great thief of entropy. Under the oversight of the chaplaincy, squads were sent out to the worlds that the chapter recruited from to conduct an inventory of each of the planets in the sub-sector. The results of the inventory were grim. The planets were found to be excessively wasteful. Imperial bureaucracy, a corrupt and greedy nobility, and an ill maintained infrastructure was losing trillions of units of entropy every year, far in excess of what was deemed necessary by the Index Thermodynamica. At these rates, the planets would survive a scant few millennia before becoming useless in the defense and support of the Imperium. Furious, Chapter Master Carnot penned an ultimatum to the offending planetary governors and noble houses who ruled the planets in the sub-sector. In it he demanded that if the planets were to continue to enjoy the aegis of the Knights’ Adamantine protection, they would have to make steps to comply with the Index Thermodynamica. The response from the planetary leader’s was silence. The terms were wholly unacceptable. The austerity measures outlined in the Index described a level of luxury, while far in excess of the living conditions that the planets menials laboured under, were unthinkable to the upper classes who enjoyed the lion’s share of the fruits of the planets’ industry. Astropathic messages were sent out to the Ecclessiarchy, the Inquisition, and anyone else who would listen, describing the heretical text penned by the renegade Astartes holding the sub-sector hostage. Within months a fleet of vessels led by Inquisitor Pangloss broke system and began a bombardment of MX-115. The orbital defense batteries fired back on the fleet but were quickly overwhelmed. Beyond the automated defenses, no response came from the surface. No chapter vessels were found at anchor in orbit. The planet had been deserted. Inquisitorial scouts reported back from the surface that the fortress monastery was deserted. Signs of internal violence were present, and the corpses of scores of marines as well as no few dreadnoughts lay shattered in the halls of the fortress. The librarium, reclusiam, and armoury were cleared out, but most curious of all was the geneseed repository. Signs of a great fire, and the remnants of demonic formulae were all that remained. Homeworld Coming soon. Combat Doctrine Coming soon. Organisation Coming soon. Beliefs Coming soon. Geneseed Coming soon. Battlecry “No future! No hope!”

My Red Corsairs

One of my favorite threads I've ever read on the B&C, and one of the main reasons I got into the hobby was @Kierdale's thread for his psychopomps. I've similarly enjoyed @WarriorFish's Sundered and what I've seen of @Tallarn Commander's Warpborn. I'm also looking forward to reading about @Slave to Darkness's Khornate Word Bearers warband. I like reading about you guys' custom warbands and I'm going to channel that energy into my own hobby blog. The warband is still a WIP. I have yet to settle on a name that I really enjoy. But I do have some solid themes I want to incorporate and a paint scheme. I mocked up this digital test model with the app impcat. I think I am partial to the one with the black boots. I've also done up a test shoulder pad to see how the colors actually look in real life. I used the new Mantis Warrior Green contrast paint and then a conventional blue black for the trim. I'm going to have to come up with a method for touching up the green, otherwise I'm going to take some years off my life stressing out about painting so much black trim next to my beautiful, bright acid green. I'm choosing a leviathan's cross for the symbol for a couple of reasons. It invokes imagery of the occult It is connected to alchemy where it is a symbol for brimstone (sulfur) It looks cool Its simple enough to freehand that I don't need to mess around with transfers.

Chapter Name: The Baleful Hounds (formerly Hounds of the Hunt) Founding: Ultima founding Chapter world: None Chapter Monastery: aboard the battle barge "Iron Chariot" Chapter Master: Taras "Lord of the Hunt" Gene-Seed: gene legacy is listed as coming from the 5th legion. War cry: "Today we hunt, tonight we feast!" Known descendants: None Main colors: Dark grey and white Insignia: a dog head with spiked collar with a broken chain. Chapter origin and history: During the Ultima founding the Hounds of the Hunt where founded as a fleet based chapter who's main goal was to give chase to splinter fleets or retreating contingents. Due to the tendency of the retreating enemy forces containing warlords or attempting to lead the Astarties into traps, the Hounds quickly adopted lightning strike tactics that used almost wreckless speed and vigor. Often the hounds will go for a decapitating blow, destroying the enemys command structure, leaving the rest of the force in disarray. Due to the peculiar culture and honor system of the chapter, the hounds have let escape more than a dozen high profile and powerful chaos and xeno warlords. Communication and rumors being as volatile as they are with the current state of the Imperium, these actions went unnoticed for years. Eventually reports from reliable sources painted a disturbing picture for the Inquisition. One confirmed account was of the Hounds granting Golgoth the Afflictor safe passage off a battle field after being firmly surrounded by joint imperial forces. The Inquisition sent message to the Hounds to cease their actions, but they merely replied that the foes had won their freedom honorably and the hounds only answered to the Emperor. Soon after Felkis, head of the Warseers had a vision showing him a fleet of inquisitorial forces coming to exterminate the chapter. It seams the Inquisition had decided to declare the Hounds heriticus excomunicatus for their wreckless and uncontrollable nature. Felkis warned the chapter, and as his visions had never been wrong before, Taras belived him without question. The chapter packed up all of their ships to the brim with extra supplies and spare primaris gene seed. They also reqositioned ships, manpower and supplies from an Astra militarum force in the sector before word got to them of the Hounds excomunication. They then escaped into the rift and the Inquisition was surprised to see the chapter long gone when they arrived. After their escape they changed their name to The Baleful Hounds. The chapter then underwent some major changes. Firstly the chapter restructured itself, no longer set up like a codex compliant chapter, but taking in other renagade space marines and astra militarum groups who swore fealty to Taras. The chapter size has swelled well above the standard 1000 marines and many many more human solders and workers. Despite being declared excomunicatus, the chapter still believes in and worships the Emperor. Taras was once offered patronage from a greater demon of Khorne not long after their escape. His only condition was the chapter slaughter all their Warseers and, lay their skulls at his feet. Taras slew the greater demon in response and its skull adornes his trophy wrack to this day. Even tho the hounds belive themselves champions of humanity, they will still slay any Imperial force that gets in their way. Culture: The Hounds are set up in the visage of old knightly orders of antiquity. Ranks within the chapter are as follows. Lord of the Hunt - Chapter Master Duke - Company captains Viscounts - chapter Ainchents and Champions Warseers - Librarians Troubadours - Chaplains Barons - first company/terminator honors Paladins - Apothocarys Knight captains - squad Sargents Knights - rank and file Marines Squires - neophytes Serfs - any none astartes human Maybe due to their long solitary missions away from other imperial forces or a flaw in their geneseed, the hounds are extremely prideful and dont respect the authority of any none Astartes. Despite their arrogance, the chapter believes in a strict honor system. Any foe to emerge victorious after a dule will be granted their life, aslong as they do not stain their honor by returning to the battle. The chapter will also honor any deals made and will avoid unnecessary killing of none combatants. Gradually the hunting tactics and honor dules became a game to the hounds, where warlords and champions where great feats to be claimed. This traditionary hunting game became integral to the command structure of the Hounds. To gain rank within the Hounds, individuals would have to defeat worthy foes in 1v1 combat. Due to fierce competitiveness, many young aspiring members of the chapter will challenge opponents outside their ability. Apart of their kightly structure, each marine is allowed two squires. These are generally young astra militarum soilders who have caught the marines eye in combat. These squires are trained up to be neophites. Only after slaying an enemy Astartes are they granted rank of knight and gain the right to declare dules and start training their own squires. After battle the Hounds often host a feast to toast their victory and honor their fallen. These feasts can become rather lively with the frequent accompaniment of music, boastful recounts of the battles more interesting moments, or the showing off of newly recovered trophies. The final toast of the feast will be made using blood from fallen brothers mixed with a mead like alchohol in their honor. Often Troubadours withing the chapter will recite heroic feats of chapter individuals as often as holy scripture to inspire their brothers. Since the reclamation of geneseed is such a highly important task, all Paladins within the chapter are hand picked from some of the most skilled fighters. The post is highly respected within the chapter tho many hope to never receive the title as they are forbidden from declaring dules.

So, here's my entry for this IG Challenge. It's based on a sidebar from my IT: Black Hammers, but it's one I thought had potential to be expanded into a proper story. Word count is over 2k so I'm actually in for a Silver on this Challenge! :D Anyway, c+c is, as always, very welcome! For The Emperor Lord Julien van de Carmetine stood with the favoured members of his court and looked down across the Carmetine Plaza from the grand balcony of his palace. Three dozen courtesan dancers whirled elegantly in perfect synchronicity with the flawless playing of his personal orchestra. Six Companies of the Carmetine Household Guard stood at attention in their crimson and gold uniforms, ceremonial laslocks and long halberds shouldered precisely. At the centre of the square stood a great bronze statue, the top of its head almost level with the balcony they stood upon. Commisioned by Julien and only completed and installed a few days ago, it depicted the Dark Prince himself, a glorious being of grace and power, surrounded by cavorting spirits. An observer might well note that the statue's long, elegant limbs and beautiful face held many similarities to Julien's own proud bearing and aquiline features. First Adviser Cascus, an older man gross with gluttonous excess, bustled out to the balcony from within the palace, panting between words and performing a florid, if slightly hurried bow. "My most noble and vigorous Lord, I have returned. Your new allies approach, they bring a gift from their master who even now leads the assault against your hated foes." Lord Julien nodded, unsurprised at the thought that even the traitor Astartes came to offer him tribute. It was all too fitting that now, as House Carmetine came into its birthright, that such servants of the Powers should arrive to do obeisance before him. For countless decades, the proud scions of Tybur-Al's Hive Secundus had been forced to bow and scrape towards the tyrants of Hive Primus. Despite its vast wealth and wisdom, Julien's family had been sidelined and ignored - although admittedly, this had allowed the members of the House to focus on enjoying their riches, and their extravagant feasts and revelries had become famous across the planet. Under Julien, however, the Van de Carmetines had prepared to right the wrongs done to them, to cast off the shackles of the planetary governor and the Imperium itself and bring a new age of perfection and glory to Tybur-Al. The armies built by Julien had stood ready to begin their revolution and by some dark fortitude, the Astartes had arrived exactly on time! Well, near exactly. Perhaps ideally General Equerìsta and his staff might have been given another six months, or a year, to complete the training and equipment of Secundus' forces… but undoubtedly the advantages of having a spearhead of the mightiest warriors known to humanity would outweigh any deficiencies in tactics or ammunition? By most accounts, their assault against Hive Primus was already in full flow. A smaller group, aboard a single transport, had requested - in truth demanded - an audience with House Carmetine. "And what do you make of them, Cascus? Are they as grand as the legends suggest?" Cascus paused uncomfortably, wiping his brow with a delicate silk handkerchief as he pondered his next words. "They are... they are not quite as I expected, my grand Lord... they..." Guard Captain Toreda spoke softly, "They have arrived, Lord." Taken aback, Julien spun to look out into darkness at the far edge of the plaza. He had expected a grand procession of troops marching in perfect formation, heard far before they were seen, splendid even beyond his own personal Guard. Instead the Astartes warriors, clad in black and perhaps only a score in number, were quietly moving in two files down either side of the grand promenade that crossed the plaza towards the palace. Each squad walked with their weapons held ready, with a casual yet alert gait that seemed more suited to a patrol traversing enemy territory than a visiting honour guard. However, Julien had to concede that in spite of their informal approach, the Astartes had an imposing presence, their bulky shapes surrounded by an aura of power and fear. Between the advancing squads a third unit also approached, in a similarly loose formation. Even at this distance, Julien could see that although fewer in numbers, they were even more imposing, dwarfing the power armoured troopers. Could these perhaps be the mythical 'Terminators'? Finally, behind this central squad another group appeared at the plaza's edge. These smaller figures, perhaps a half dozen in number, were clearly not Astartes. Human servants of some sort? They clustered around and struggled to carry a long, obviously heavy object. Julien's curiosity was piqued - could this be the gift Cascus mentioned? As the Astartes drew closer, he could make out more details of their appearance. The Lord sniffed, understanding Cascus' prior reticence. The vaunted warriors looked to be nothing more than filthy savages! Their black and white armour plates were mismatched and battered, covered in random sigils, dirty furs and scraps of skin and bone. Though most wore full armour a few went unhelmed, displaying long, shaggy beards or wearing crude leather hoods. All wore one icon in common, a simple warhammer clearly visible white on black, though Julien had no idea of its meaning. The music of his Orchestra faltered as the Traitor Marines moved implacably forward to stand before the balcony, musicians silenced and displaced by towering warriors. A few even left their instruments behind them on the ground in their hurry. Dancers likewise stuttered to a stop, looking nervously from their master to his guests. One of the massive brutes at the centre stepped forward. Julien frowned at the Terminator, his own nascent gifts making him suddenly aware of a disturbing aura of authority and psychic power that surrounded the giant. He was older, his long white beard caught up in scraggly braids, and his skin was lined and weather-beaten. His armour was even more covered in sigils and totems than his men and a large and ancient looking leather-bound book hung from his waist. Some kind of primitive Sorcerer? The psyker looked up at the palace and called out, his voice cold and harshly accented. "I am Abartach of the Black Hammers. Who rules here?" Lord Julien stepped forward, flanked by Cascus and his personal herald. The First Cryer had a deep, booming voice that carried across the square. "You have the honour of addressing Lord Julien Van de Carmetine, scion of the House Van de Carmetine, undisputed master of Hive Secundus, rightful Lord of Tybur-Al…" As the herald continued, the Sorcerer looked curiously at Julien, then at the statue beside him, then back at the Lord on his balcony. He spoke again, interrupting the cryer in a gruff but amused rumble. "You think yourself a suitable avatar for the Dark Prince himself, then?" Lord Julien frowned, unsure if he was more offended by the barbarian's disrespectful tone or by his ruining of the cryer's perfect protocol. He leaned forward on the balustrade. "Are you mocking me, sir?" he hissed. "Even for an Astartes, that would be very unwise. My powers are beyond your understanding! I will soon rule this planet in the name of Slaanesh and those who stand against me will suffer..." Then, to Julien's stunned amazement, the grizzled old psyker ignored his words and turned away from the balcony towards the bondsmen who were depositing the long bundle at the base of the great bronze statue. Calmly he bent down to the object. It was wrapped in mismatched furs, these held in place by leather thongs and crudely carved stone clasps. Long strips of parchment inscribed with runes and chaotic symbols wove between the clasps. Julien's tirade stuttered to a stop as Abartach reached out with his massively armoured gauntlets, tearing off seals, ripping through parchments and crushing stone charms into powder. Carefully he unwrapped the furs, revealing the object within. He called out, "We bring a gift to this world." The old Astartes carefully lifted it from its wrappings and held it up for all to see. It was a long spear, a brutal, broad-bladed weapon formed of brass and gore-blackened steel. Even clad in his monstrous armour, the weapon was still slightly too big for the Sorcerer, seeming proportioned for an even larger user. Julien looked down at it with distaste, even repulsion. Something about the spear felt wrong, even more so than the old psyker. It felt like an enemy. His heightened senses could immediately pick out the smell of fresh blood in the air around the plaza, though he could see no source. Abartach continued, "This is the Spear of C'Harak, Bloodthirster of the Sixth Rank. The HeartEater, Khorne's Huntsman, Bane of Tranquility. For nearly six millennia the Spear has held C'Harak's essence prisoner, allowing no outlet for his fury and bloodlust." He paused, looking up at Julien with a cold, mirthless grin. Then he spun the great spear around in his hands, turned and drove its blade through the heart of the great statue with a deafening clang. In the horrified silence that followed, Abartach spoke in a satisfied whisper that only Julien's exceptional hearing could make out. "You are welcome to one another." Incandescent with rage, Julien turned to order Toreda to take the mad old psyker and his troops into custody. Before he could speak, Abartach whispered again, even more softly. Julien paused for a fraction of a second, dumbfounded. What had the Sorcerer said? It sounded like… "For the Emperor." With a roar like some gargantuan beast, the heavy cannon carried by one of the other Terminators opened fire, followed immediately by the bolt guns carried by the rest of the Black Hammers. Household Guard and performers scattered en masse, desperately seeking cover from the thunderously loud fusillade. Chips of stone burst from the balcony and Cascus was torn apart by a torrent of shells. His blood misted and sizzled against the edge of Julien's personal force field and for a moment the Lord was blinded. "Return fire!" he screamed at his underlings from behind the thick balustrade. "I will have their heads mounted above my gates for this treachery! I will…" Julien's vision cleared and as he peered down onto the plaza he could see Guardsmen unshouldering their weapons and readying to return fire over the scores of fallen bodies of what had been their front ranks. But the Black Hammers were no longer attacking. In fact, they had used the chaos caused by their first volley to do the opposite, retreating across the plaza and away into the darkness. "What in the name of the Dark Prince is happening here?" Julien shrieked, turning to look back into the palace. "Where have they gone?" "My Lord?" Toreda ducked forward, cradling a limp and bloody left arm. He seemed equally bemused, though that might have been shock from his wound. "Report from Comms, my Lord. Message from Hive Primus. The invaders have been repulsed, they pulled out again with barely a shot fired, before the defence had even put together a proper counterattack?" Julien whirled again, trying to pierce the blackness beyond the square, trying to understand the madness of the Astartes actions. As he did, he noticed something odd. The bloody vapour that still filled the air above Cascus' remains was not settling as it should. Rather it moved, drawn in a gradually forming spiral as though by some invisible force out over the lip of the balcony. The Lord Carmetine stepped forward and saw with growing fear that the bloody trail was not alone, being joined by similar liquid spirals from the countless corpses in the plaza and flowing together at a central point. The spear buried in Julien's statue. Julien gaped, the unease within him growing stronger and stronger, turning into sick horror. Something, a vast bloody crimson shape, was forming beside the hideous weapon. In the air around him, Julien could feel a pressure building. He almost felt he could hear the blowing of brazen horns, then a bellowing growl of rage and hatred echoed across the plaza. With a whimper of abject terror, the true master of Tybur-Al fled into his palace, desperate to find some refuge and yet knowing that there would be none. *** Abartach led his squads quickly up through the great Hive towards the landing pad, watching for any possible counter by its confused soldiery. He expected none. The Black Hammers strike had been too swift, too hard and too inexplicable for the enemy Command to respond effectively, even if given double the meager amount of time they actually had left. He grinned. Just as the Codex dictated. The psyker activated his comm link. "Lord Agamon? Mission accomplished. Package delivered." He listened for a moment, then nodded. "Aye Lord. Pulling out. Rendezvous in 18 minutes." ***