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So i signed myself up for the "other" 20 gamer thread (much like i signed up to the "other" badab thread.. im a rebel like that) and said i'd take on the death guard.. After my compressor decided to kill itself and attempted to kill me when i tried to fix it i ended up off target. So i've decided that the best course of action is to show my shame up front and start a wip thread for these guys.. http://fc01.deviantart.net/fs71/f/2012/273/7/f/death_guard_by_typhion-d5gdyta.jpg this is the first guy so far.. originally i was going for a mildly off white with funky grey shadowing and stuff.. but my girlfriend decided to slag it off so one oil wash later and hes a bit browner.. now the main question is "too brown?" or does this guy look suitably like the deathguard as portrayed in the lovely new book? tell me what you think!

Over the Christmas / NYE holiday I was on the epic American road trip (California to West Virginia - and back) with my familial coven. The first leg I did only in the company of my two Canine protectors, and listened to Black Legion book 1 & 2 (and Eisenhorn: Xenos but there's no Templars in that). Something really bothered me at the end, and this question may very well be answered in upcoming books but wanted to know if any one else has mused upon this ... read on with the following caveat... ::SPOILER ALERT::

All this talk about Champions fight each other really got me thinking. As we all know Black Libraries writing goes from bad to good.. to bad again. I'm hoping that with the climax of the Siege of Terra that a more thought out story will evolve. I really liked the William King story from the old fluff and hope that they remain semi-true to it. Anyway I wrote a bit of fan fic about one of those confrontations... I want to see something like this............. The Opening... The Ruined Imperial Palace. Grand marble columns cast down to form barricades in the middle of a large room. Blast marks and bullet gouges cover the terrain. Above them the arched roof once had held banners from ancient Imperial victories. those few that still hang are riddled with bullet holes and tears. It's just one lonely corridor guarded by a large squad of Imperial fists. Ahead another wave of Traitors come. ******* Number 8 ******* They were back again, this time something was different. They had charged the Fist's defensive line before but never as hard. The Sergeant voxed the presence of a noted champion among their ranks as the horde of axe wielding World Eaters charged. Gunfire was effective but it was clear that they would reach the Sergeants gun line this time. His name was death and he had finally come. He broke into the Imperial fists lines like a thundering hammer. Blood flew from his axe as he wrecked all those before him. Behind him his brother World Eaters flooded in, chain axes spinning and thirsting for death. With in seconds, mangled Imperial Fists bodies littered the area around the 1st Captain of the XII Legion. Those near him fell to the vicious killing arcs of his weapons. It was as if an some primordial version of slaughter had been born within the axe wielding Astartes. He was unstoppable. The words fell uncontrollably from his lips the Sergeant whispered the name of the demon that had brought death to so many. "Khârn." Watching the brave son's of Dorn fall like harvested wheat, the Sgt of the Imperial Fist stepped up to try to stop the crazed axeman from killing his men. He knew its was useless endeavor but what choice did he have. With sword in hand he leap forward, desperate to stem the flow of the carnage. In only a few swings his challenge was over and he was thrown back, tripping over a severed limb that was still encased in it's yellow armor. His head swam and blood flowed in his eyes. With a gurgling howl the maniac leaped forward, the high pitched screaming from his spinning axe spoke of death. The Sergeant watched as if his death was happening in slow motion. A life time of service ended. He raises his hand up in a useless bid to ward off the blow. "Father, forgive me I have failed you", he whispered as the executioners axe fell. As the Imperial Fist Sgt there is about to be hacked down a sword appeared in front of him and blocked the gore filled axe of the demon, denying it the deathblow. The Sergeant had refused to flinch at his end, but it still took a moment for him to realized what had happened. Following the sculpted lines of the savior blade he saw him and for a moment hope flickered. Sigismund had arrived. The two Legion champions stared at each other in the middle of the melee. Locked in a battle of wills, they remain unmoving, weapons still wedged together, sparks and a hazy power field glowing between them. Around them bodies of the gene-warriors from both sides littered the floor. Others still fought in bloody duels. The savage rawness of the World Eaters held thinly back by the stubborness of the fists. The scene seemed muted to the prone Imperial Fist. A bleak landscape surrounding epic events. His eyes drawn to the two beings above him the Sergeant couldn't turn away. It's as if the elemental forces of nature themselves had collided. Then, as if pulled back to his senses, a voice came. It was impossibly clear and calm amidst the chaotic battle that surrounded him. "Sergeant, you have not failed him yet, help your brothers, They need you". He blinked and the spell was seemingly broken. Pride filled his chest and he scrambled to his feet, thankful for the intervention. Above him the armor of Dorn's Champion, battered and dented, still shined. The Moment reached it's climax and a guttural voice finally came from the red covered beast. As if it was almost struggling to retain it's rage the broken and raspy sound was birthed. "...I..I.. will bbbreak .. you.. ch.Champion". The last word coming with a notable tone of disdain. Without waiting for a response he Struck. His axe moving in a grand arc, blood and gore spinning from it's teeth. Parry after parry spared Dorn's chosen from a blow what would tear him in half if he had only let it be completed. The red Champion's assault hammered his defenses and Sigismund is pushed back unable to respond. The high whine of Khârn's Axe flowed up and down as the heavy weapon swung with a fluid grace that shouldn't have been possible. It struck again and again only to be turned be the shimmering field of Sigismund's Power Sword. Flakes of yellow paint embedded from the gruesome reaping that had occurred before Dorn's Champion arrived broke off in regular intervals. After careful positioning he was able to find space for a counter blow. His sword cut hard through the Monsters leg as he sidestepped and swung upward. The move should have hamstrung the Demon, but the effect seems lost on the Bezerker. With no time to find reason in the event, Sigismund was forced to parry another kill strike. A gouge dug through the armor on his neck. Another blow followed that, but this time his shoulder pauldron paid the price and was ripped from him. It tumbles lazily through the air before disappearing into the surrounding chaos. It was with only several more parries and some quick back peddling that Dorn's Champion remained alive. The beasts onslaught was brutal and it was clear to see that the Imperial Fist was losing. With a last minute duck the Golden Champion avoided a decapitation strike. Rockcrete exploded from the pillar above him. This time Khârn seemed to be expecting it and connected a solid knee strike to Sigismund's head, sending him reeling. Without hesitation Angron's Champion followed up his assault with a wide swing that took the Imperial fist across the stomach. Rending the ceramite and metal of his armor and sending a shower of sparks and blood where the weapon found purchase. The Imperial warrior stumbled backward, tripping over the one of the many bodies that littered the ground. Unpausing the monster rushed forward. The Deadly arc continued past Sigismund. It raised up high to defeat the last of his defenses. Ignoring the pain Sigismund kicked hard striking the World Eater in the face and throwing he assaulting astartes off balance, giving him a second to regroup. He slowly regained his feet. The flow of his blood was already slowing but any pain-chem's in the suits automated system had long since been used up. Drawn here by the demand of his duty this would be his end. How many others had the Red Monster taken. Perritos from the 5th company, Captains Orrin and Hellios, Marshall Tyrros, Salladin of the Angels and countless others. The beasts name was now spoken in quiet whispers and even the most foolhardy would not openly talk about him without thinking soome imagined curse would fall upon them. He was given new mantels instead. He was the unleashed. The skull collector. The Demon. The red berzerker. A pile of corpses was his calling card and he had drunk very deeply of the Fist's finest. If he won now all would be lost. There was no one else to stop him. It had to be here. It had to be now. Sigismund closed his eyes for a moment and tried to slow the world down. The pain from the wound is great, but he refused to fall. Willing his body to stay Conscious. These men needed him. The Imperial Fists could not allow him to fall. Dorn would not allow it. Raising up to his full height the Champion of the 7th Legion opened his eyes and waved the Red Monster forward. Like a giant raging beast from some ancient story he came. Heavy armored feet pounding the ground, trampling the dead and injured beneath him as his charge drove him closer to his prey. The spinning chainaxe in his hand screamed at full speed, it's red stained teeth begging for more blood even as it tossed thick ropes of gore from the endless recesses of it's maw. The moment seems to slow down and even those fighting in the swirling melee paused to witness the breaking of the The Imperial Fist Champion. His armor was torn and rent barely field worthy by any standard of a legionary, but Sigismund stood stoically immobile despite this. He almost seemed Serene to the event that is about to happen. Like two grand cosmic bodies locked in destiny of destruction the met. Then it happened. But not in the foreseen way that one watching the event would think. At the last minute Sigismund, Dorn's outcast champion stepped forward under the heavy swinging arc of Khârn. Perhaps it was the blood lust in the monster, perhaps it was that no one had actually been foolhardy enough to close toward him, I don't know. But, what ever the reason it was the opening the Imperial Fist needed. Driving his sword up in a uppercut like strike, the blade pierced the World Eaters chest and emerged out of his spine almost lifting the Traitor Astartes from his feet. The shimmering blade jutted up bringing bits of bone and nerve with it. Sigismund's shoulder followed and plowed into the demons chest, halting his advance. The sound from the collision was deafing. Locked together for a moment in a strange symbiosis the two again stared at each other again, this time face to face. A slow transition seemed to happen and the beasts body untensed, as if the blood flowing from his chest was drawing away the coiled up rage held within him. With slow hands the Red Berzerker reached down and grabbed the pommel of the sword that had pierced him. He pulled it deeper into himself, drawing Dorn's Champion even closer. "Gghhh goood" came the voice of the dying champion. This voice now replaced with a calmness it had not had before. For a moment Sigismund thought the demon was actually smiling under his helmed head. A long exhale completed the transition and the terror that once been the Red Death reverted back to the being it had once been, Khârn, 1st Captain of the World Eaters. His body went slack and the full weight of him now rested on Sigismund . If there was any pride in the bladesman none could see it. He methodically retracted his sword, letting the gore covered body slump to the ground. He looked at the World Eater for a moment, laying there on a huge pile of bodies, before turning away. It was then that for the first time he noticed that it was quiet. Imperial Fist and World Eaters alike looked at him. They stood shoulder to shoulder transfixed as if they had been frozen. Seconds passed before finally the Traitor Astartes turned and withdrew, without further action. They slowly disappeared into the darkness in which they came. Sigismund watched them go, sword still clutched in his hand. They would be back, but not now. The Imperial Fist Sergeant looked on as Sigismund silently turned and started to walk away. "Sir?" he began to speak, his voice a strange mixture of awe and thankfulness. Sigismund stopped, but didn't turn. "I am needed elsewhere Sergeant. Hold your post" And with that the Golden Champion disappeared leaving only the broken body the World Eater as the only sign of his passing. Fade to black. AS any good fanboy knows Khârn fell on terra.. only to be brought back by Khorne. We also know that Sigismund killed a number of champions there, thus helping to stem the tide of the traitors. His refusal to die or give ground a mirror to the lord of the Fists. I wrote this kinda fast so don't be too harsh. But, something like this would be awesome! Of course if iwould have to be fleshed out better. Making some fights epic, instead of having the same dog and pony show of mismatches would make for really good reading. Anyway what do you guys think