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I am afraid I've caught a nasty case of filthy nurgle-itus! I couldn't resist the new Death Guard Models, I was really inspired by the old Deathguard.org site of Ryan Powell in the early 00's, and thought i'd be really cool to do a CSM force along similar lines in the old legion colours, unfortunately this never really happened and I drifted out of the hobby. I have since returned to heresy era modelling but the awesome new DG range gives me this opportunity - at least until the Emperor's Children are re-done! I wanted to put these guy well and truly in the heresy era, so that I can use them for both 30k/40k i've adapted the base models slightly by de-nurlging them as much as possible. I wasn't a big fan of silly belly mouths and overly 'deformed' tentacles, as I see these as more 'possessed' sort of features. It'll be a welcome change painting up a highly weathered and dirty army after having to be extra neat and clean with my Third Legion pretty boys! Dirty, scruffy Death Guard are just about as far as you can get!!

Well after a long period of inactivity, and my partner in crime on here pursuing XIII madness, I thought it was time I had my own Heresy WIP thread. Some of the things shown at the beginning are not new, but I promise if you keep going there is some new content! This thread will primarily chronicle my build progress of the 7th Chapter, 3rd Great Company, XIV Legion, along with any other heresy stuff I get up to. http://i7.photobucket.com/albums/y264/Madoktopus/W30k/imagejpg1_zps6c9d476e.jpg 'There is no hunting like the hunting of man, and those who have hunted armed men long enough and liked it, never care for anything else thereafter' - ancient Terran proverb. 'In war, there are only two kinds of people. The quick, and the dead' - Unknown "The limits of tyrants are prescribed by the endurance of those whom they oppose. Unlucky for him, we are the XIV legion and we shall never falter" - Tamadas Dion, Legion Praetor 7th Chapter, 3rd Great Company, XIV Legion on the eve of the Sapathadis reclamation. "For to be poised against fatality, to meet adverse conditions gracefully, is more than simple endurance; it is an act of aggression, a positive triumph" - Remembrancer Cataro Flande, aboard 'Echo of Barbarus' (Sentinel Class). "Confront them with annihilation, and they will then survive; plunge them into a deadly situation, and they will then live. Indeed there is nothing I fear more in this galaxy than the wrath of the immortal XIV Legion" - Remembrancer Cataro Flande, aboard 'Echo of Barbarus' (Sentinel Class). http://i7.photobucket.com/albums/y264/Madoktopus/W30k/imagejpg14_zps00f7ba3f.jpg

As usual I have to start off with a shot of the game... a pivotal moment. I'll tell you one thing, this was a horrific moment for a few 'big names' in 40K: ++ Mortarion swoops into the Dark Angels' lines, but he hangs onto life by a thread. The Deathshroud try valiantly to keep their Primarch alive, but Mortarion is met by supreme resistance; the new Helblasters are untouched, as well a Lientenant, Ezekiel and the Chapter Master Azrael himself step up to meet the challenge. Has Mortarion taken on too much? Have the Dark Angels overestimated their abilities against a Daemon Primarch? ..... ++ LINK: http://www.bolterandchainsword.com/topic/344421-prot-quickie-batrep-death-guard-vs-da-2k-mortarion-pics/?p=5010846

This is because my WIP thread in the WIP forum has been pretty neglected. I simply forget to take pictures, so I'm keeping the 'hobby' thread in the Death Guard section and that way I can just throw some finished pics up here. So for a little started I'm going to just start spitting out the stuff I've completed! Starting off with the first Death Guard unit I completed post Codex: More views/Plague Marines:

Hello all, I have been lurking around this forum for a while now and decided to enlist the help of the more seasoned cadavers to help with my re-entry to the world of Warhammer 40k. I was an avid collector up unitl 6 or 7 years ago where I ran out of time and stopped collecting. I have recently resurfaced and would like to carry on where I left off; with a Death Guard army. My idea, which is mostly due to fluff reasons than any knowledge of how to play the game in its current state, is to have a core force of Death Guard which are backed up by some renegades and heretics. I have heard a lot of bad press about the new ruleset for the R&H's, but I am keen to make the combo work. So, my question really is how would I best use this combination? At the moment I have the Dark Imperium DG set, along with a squad of old Death Guard models, a Terminator Lord and a Rhino. As well as this, I put some fair effort into making a Rogue Psyker squad from a plethora of old bitz I had lying around. Any and all help is appreciated! TL:DR; Renegade and Heretics support element to a Death Guard army. How would this work? ~ Skeggold

So I'm a bit strapped for time and I'll try to get this done in a reasonable fashion with some pics. First up, I apologize for so many unpainted figs. In my batreps I really prefer more painted stuff but I've had a few people actually ask me to do some of my DG games up as batreps. Secondly a shot from the heat of the moment.... bodies are flying, and Genestealers are turning into Poxwalkers, while Poxwalkers are being consumed for Genestealers... it's a bloody mess, yet one particularly stinky champion stands out amongst the carnage.... +++ Typhus stands amongst the carnage. The smell would kill a horse... or make a plaguebearer smile. Take your pick. The Nids have poured their chaff into the fire, but now Old One Eye enters the fold, backed by a Hive Tyrant and a Dakka-Fex. Can the Poxwalkers hold? Will Typhus cut the Nids down? All to answer the question: Which stinky force is more desperately in need of some Old Spice? +++ The Game: - 2,000 pts Maelstrom. It's a new one where you MUST complete your 3 cards by the beginning of your turn as all cards are discarded. This feels like a disadvantage to such a slow moving army such as mine. - Deployment is in opposing quarters with a no man's land in the middle (18" bubble) - My Army: Typhus 20 Poxwalkers Lord in termie armour with Combi Plasma (Warlord - re-roll Plague weapon aura) 5 Blightlord Termies 1 combi plasma, one flail, one Blightlauncher 2 squads of Plague Marines 10 Cultists Plaguecaster 1 Plague Crawler 1 squad of 3 Myphitic Blight Drones 1 Foul Blightspawn 1 Tallyman 1 Plague Surgeon 1 Blightbringer. Nids: Flyrant 2 x Dakka fex Broodlord 2 x 14 genestealers 4 Zoanthropes + the character Zoanthrope dude 3 Hive Guard 3 shooty warriors Old One Eye Drop Pod w/ a big bug with a mega flamer 3 Venomthropes... can't get enough of these guys! First turns: - This is the first time I have the +1 to my roll, and I actually have a tie/win on the roll off. I don't think first turn is too particularly important for me in this one aside from moving to objectives. - He's clumped up, I'm clumped up.... there's not a lot I can do with some line of sight blocking terrain, it looks like I have to stay away from his Hive Guard since they ignore cover (negating Blight drones), and have indirect fire. I keep my Plagueburst Crawler out of his range though in case I need to do some damage. +++ Deployment. Stinky clump of dudes vs stinky clump of bugs. +++ - with first turn I chuck out some Melta/Krak missiles from the Blight Haulers. They do very little because they are hitting pretty much everything on 4's. About the only thing that really goes off is my psychic phase. I buff the Poxwalkers with toughness, and get Miasma off on the Poxwalkers. I blow a CP on Walking Dead, and push up the Cultists of course. The Plague Crawler gives some good indirect shots to a dakka fex to start working him over...Everything pushes up, and I get only one point for an objective I happen to be sitting on. - The Nid turn is far more dyanmic.... everyting rushes forward with the venomthropes super cloud. - A Pod drops in on an objective with the super flamer Nid rolling out of it. Genestealers ultimately push forward hard and some of the Dakka Fexes make themselves visible. - To my surprise the Nids hold back the Zoanthropes, the Hive Guard and the Warriors. Everything else is making a break for the edges of the ruins in the center of the board: +++ Genestealers come crashing in.... the plague marines are waiting for it.. Typhus relishes it. The poxwalkers fill their pants. +++ - The buffed Poxwalkers do attract firepower. A good volume of it is wasted on them which I kind of hoped for. I think the Nids realized this wasted potential and started throwing shots on the Cultists... which turned into Poxwalkers... all according to plan! - His psychics were limited to buffing running/shooting units. He had a mix of two different rules so he could reroll charges on his shooty units.... then something really goes against me.... I'm hoping this will be a game I get some real use out of the Foul Blightspawn but no...He gets off a psychic power that says my units must fight after his are done. Brutal. So it negates Foul Blightspawn entirely. - The good news is the Cultists die rapidly, and he doesn't know what to do with my growing numbers of Poxwalkers... does he engage them? does he ignore them? - He does some good damage, gets first blood, and an Objective. Nids are up 2 to 1. Turn 2: - Somewhat a repeat of T1, except the Poxwalkers with Tallyman in effect absolutely tear into the Genestealers. It's shocking really. Even the Broodlord is overtaken. All of these absorb into Poxwalkers. Hey they were once humans, turned into Genestealers... now turned into Zombies. Works for me! - I hold my Lord and Blightlord termies in reserve still. They just don't have great targets without sacrificing themselves, and I have no objectives in my opponent's zone worth getting. (I also don't want to deepstrike them too deep near all those Zoanthropes and Hive Guard.) - I think the assaults surprised him.. .they surprised me. - His heavy flamer bug in the pod was trying to snag 2 points for a 'Defend'. That plus the fact it was an infantry muncher kind of scared me, so I poured the Blight Haulers, the Plague Burst crawler and some desperate last shots to get the thing to die... it took a LOT of firepower, but it went down. - Our Assaults continued like T1 I came out ahead, now he was surprised. - In his turn he draws an objective on my Right Flank. He can't get to it on the ground so he deepstrikes the Flyrant and although he subjects himself to quite a range of firepower, it's a resilient bug. - He puts a lot into my Blight Haulers and one goes down. This greatly impedes their shooting. I have no re-roll aura around. T3 is looking to be a big one.... Turn 3: And here we are, back to the first shot of the game.... +++ Young Two Eyes wasn't available... so they sent in Old One Eye. Typhus cares not, but he is flanked on both sides by Dakkafexes, Old One Eye, and a Flyrant just dropped in. +++ - The Flyrant had good dakka, and I can see both Dakka fexes are going to wreck me. The high volume of firepower combined, is mulching my infantry. I'm VERY lucky I had Vitality running on the poxwalkers to make it harder... but that goes downhill at this point.... the Tyranids deny two of my powers. No more Miasma, no more +1 S and +1 T. Getting Blades off is huge on my Poxwalkers though. - I have to get the Flyrant down first. He's sitting near an objective I need... I also need big game hunter, but my issue is I'm having trouble doing damage to all these Toughness 7 units! The Plasma isn't helping much, and the Blight Launchers are putting little dents in. - I decide to call in the Termie Lord and Blightlord Termies! +++ Termies to the rescue! Overcharge plasma to save the day? Or overcharge plasma to melt my own dudes? +++ - So this is the game I swap out melta for plasma on my termies and I'm starting to regret it. I overcharge everything and roll a lot of 1's. This scares me, but I get lucky and no 1's turn up on the re-rolls. But with the Flyrant's 4 ++ invuln, I'm hard pressed to get a shot through, so the only wounds that do count happen to only cause 2 Damage. I end up pouring a LOT into the Hive Tyrant. and I realize the 4++ save is just making this a wasted effort with plasma. I get off a few Plague Crawler shots and luckily I get a 5 damage wound through thanks to a CP re-roll (he finally failed a 4++). But he had 6 up feel no pain and saved 2 of them. - I put a lot of wounds on his Dakka Fex on that same flank using my remaining Blight Haulers. Believe it or not I had a lot of low AP wounds on him to finish him off... 11 wounds. The Dakkafex saved 10 of them! WOW. He just went down. - Without being able to do much to the Flyrant I had to assault... I made a 10" charge but that 4++ held through. I felt like I was now in big trouble. I also couldn't do anything about Old One Eye and more big bugs were rounding the corner. - All said I did well in points and took a good lead. Going into bottom of Turn 3, my opponent did not feel great about his chances because he was down to his big bugs, but I insisted he had a chance... Turn 3 Nids: - It's about time he moved his Zoanthropes up and sure enough the 'super smite' hurts like hell.... - The Hive Guard finally have some targets, he's mobilizing his reserves but I think it's too late for them. I feel lucky he left them back there so long. - His Hive Tyrant simply flies away from my Termies and starts pelting my Plague Marines. +++ All of the sudden with a Hive Tyrant in my backlines, I can't help but feel a great need for a melta gun right about now. +++ - The Hive tyrant almost blicks a 7 man squad of Plague Marines. - Old One eye starts wrecking face because my Psychic buffs were all denied. - The Venomthropes slink into the ruins so now my shooting is going to be further nerfed. - This turn of events puts the Nids tied with me... crazy stuff. Turn 4: - I have to be very smart this turn. I don't have enough left to make a huge push. I know Old One Eye is his Warlord, - The thing I wish I had a picture of is the Venomthropes in the ruins..... I have an epic moment with the Foul Bligh Spawn. He advances in the ruins, pulls the hose out of the Toilet on his back, and hoses the Venomthropes with true filth.... Strength 10 Filth! Now that's 'venom'..... The 3 Venomthropes take all 3 wounds which are 3 damage a piece.... just killing all 3 of them to finally get rid of the -1 to hit!!!! Huge moment. - I lob some indirect on the Zoanthropes killing one, bringing their numbers to 3 and reducing the super smite ability. +++ A flock of brain bugs... just floating casually in the background (thankfully they stayed too far back to have any real effect until late game). +++ - I've had it with the Flyrant, but he's down to one wound so I throw 11 wounds from various stuff at him in a volley... (not to be confused with the 11 wounds from the previous turn) ... he saves ALL of them. So I overcharge plasma on my Warlord Terminator, roll a 1, re-roll a... 1!!!! I've killed myself, surrendering Slay the Warlord, and give the Nids a 1 point lead! Damn Papa Nurgle is fickle sometimes. - Old One Eye is his warlord, and I also need another large target for a card, he'll do fine...so Typhus runs in and guts him... thankfully buying me some time on that flank. - I get a few points out of all of this and take a good lead, even with the misfortune of my Warlord. - Nids Turn 4 is looking pretty bleak. He can't draw cards that give him anything 'easy' and he doesn't have the model count. We play through the turn but he can't make up the deficit and we call it in turn 5... a Death Guard victory. Conclusion: - I really missed melta in this one. I know everyone is a fan of Plasma on Termies... I just don't know. - I miss having two Plague Crawlers. One is just a little hard to take advantage of. - Poxwalkers probably had their best game here.... they were insane and I think they truly shocked both of us. With Tallyman they were a force to be reckoned with for once (they usually get shot up before they ever have an effect in game.) - Typhus the more I need him, the more trouble I'm in. He only saw action once, but it was brutal. - At first the Foul Blightspawn seemed like he wasn't going to have any effect with that crazy psychic power making me go last.... but then his one toilet spurt event on the Venomthropes was truly epic... that may have changed the game (I cut out all the misses I had firing at stuff in that bloody cloud). - The Nid Flyrant absorbed a ton of plasma. So did the Carnifexes. This caused me to heavily rely on the Blight Haulers and Plague Burst Crawler for heavy duty firepower. - The Blight Haulers had me rolling 2+ on Plague marines. That was nice.... really nice at times. But their shooting stunk once they shrunk down to 2 dudes. I hope you enjoyed this. Thanks for checking it out!

What do you think - is such a thing even possible? Is it realistic to expect they will release a DG multipart squad like SM mk3, mk4 and mk7/8 squads? First thing is why am I forced to hoard stupid starter sets to get the minis needed for a DG army? They need their own boxes. A tiny box of 3 totally uncustomizable, pushfit models is deffinitely not enough, no matter how beautiful they are I do not want DG to be yet another crimson sloughter marines release - arguably way better looking models than the 3rd edition scrap we have to deal with right now, but what is it good when everyone else`s got exactly same models. Models which are not even sold separetely...

Empire of Leng Formation: 001.M42 Allegience: Nurgle, Ynoggua the Daemon-Star Leader: Antirex Cystus Capital: The Barrows, Leng system Sector: Verana Segementum: Ultima Races: Human, Uropygid, An'Guem, Cardicae Forces: Carrion (Heretic Astartes), The Forgotten (Heretic Guard), Million Favoured Ones (Mutant Cult), Malaport's Marauders (Pirates), Yellow Fang (Xeno) The Empire of Leng is a Chaotic dominion that arose during the horrors of the Great Rift, beholden to Ynoggua the daemon-star. Stretching across several systems it is ruled from the Barrows. An asteroid field that rings Ynoggua, the Barrows are made up of the former inner planets of the Leng system that were destroyed in the birth of daemon-star. Countless thousands live in the tunnels and habs of the Barrows, some purpose built, others cannibalised ship hulls. It is, as a great man once put, a hive of scum and villainy. Pirates, mercenaries, smugglers, cultists and many more rub shoulders in the markets, arenas and dark temples of the Barrows. All swear fealty to Ynoggua, the Sulphurous Duke, the Yellow Prince. Unable to walk the earth in his current form, Ynoggua’s regent is the Antirex, Cystus. A veteran of the Long War as a member of the Death Guard, Cystus and his band the Carrion helped birth Ynoggua, a child of Nurgle. In the depths of the Great Rift even on worlds not directly touched by the warp storms, it seemed the Imperium and its institutions were doomed. Loss of communication and transportation saw famine, plague and anarchy grip countless planets as all from Governors to serfs wondered if the end had truly come. In the night sky a strange star burned and some whispered it the herald of a new dawn. Various secret sects formed on a dozen worlds, the Astral Wisdom Cult, the Tattered Brotherhood, the Yellow Covenant, all bowing to the herald of redemption Ynoggua. Led by Cystus, the Carrion travelled to isolated frontier worlds as often greeted as liberators as they were invaders. On the agri-world of Rurana 3, though the aristocratic leadership remained true to Holy Terra the same could not be said of their mutant slaves who rose up, their deformities not punishments but gifts in the eyes of Nurgle and Ynoggua. The elites and their defence forces were slaughtered by sheer weight of numbers, the survivors ‘baptised’ in fetid waters to receive the blessings of Father Nurgle. The new masters of Rurana embraced the Sulphurous Duke as their mutations only increased. Led by the Goat, a hideous hooded demagogue, the mutants form a ceaseless horde of fanatic warriors known as the Million Favoured Ones. On the promethium rich desert world of Zedar, a hastily assembled Imperial Guard army was quickly abandoned due to commitments elsewhere, leaving thousands of loyal soldiers to the plagues and guns of the Carrion. The commander of Battle Group Zedar, Marshal Tonman Brenner, a career soldier from a respected family, cursed the dying Imperium for its treatment of her bravest servants the Guard. Desperate for himself and his men not to die pointlessly on that burning rock, he met with Cystus and pledged his fealty to Ynoggua. Many of his soldiers refused to join the forces of Chaos but thousands whether out of corruption, a need to survive or loyalty to the Marshal did so. What remained of Battle Group Zedar became the Forgotten, a legion of soldiers abandoned by the God-Emperor and bent on exacting vengeance upon his lackeys. Though nothing compared to the Traitor Astartes of the Carrion man for man, the cohorts of the Forgotten form the professional core of Ynoggua’s armies. The anarchy brought about by the Great Rift proved a boon for pirates and other criminals. Due to the disturbance of the Astronomican, many pledged their allegiance to Chaos if only for protection. Most infamously in the Verana Sector was Dagon Malaport, rogue trader turned pirate lord. Malaport’s Marauders hunt the space lanes of Verana in the name of Ynoggua, slaughtering and pillaging as they go. Experienced boarders they are highly prized by Cystus as assault troops, their brigand heritage belying their tactical skill. On Galeata VI, the current front line of Ynoggua’s invasion of the Imperium, the Marauders launched a mass gravchute drop over both banks of the River Mignola, seizing the strategic Miklos Bridge in bloody close-quarter combat. Uropygid The Empire of Leng is not limited to humans. At its highest level the Antirex is counselled by the Uropygids, a secretive cabal of xeno sorcerers said to have conducted the ritual that led to Ynoggua’s birth. Though few in number they are feared as powerful psykers, their bizarre insect-fungoid biology giving them a natural affinity for the warp and the blessings of Nurgle in particular. The An’Guem, reptilian mercenaries prized as scouts and trackers make up a large section of the armies of Leng. Once the premier power in the Verana Sector, the xenocidal campaigns of the Imperium shattered their realm, overturning a millennia of regional dominance. Many turned to Chaos for salvation, their faithful forming the Yellow Fang. Others retain their old gods but nonetheless fight alongside the Antirex against their mutual enemy. Most unusual are the Cardicae, plant-based xeno feared for their biological weaponry. Rarely seen beyond their home world and then usually enslaved for their powers, the blessings of Nurgle were readily welcomed by them and it is said their planet is now a rampant garden of the Fly Lord, where countless unthinkable abominations are being grown to join the armies of Leng. Planets of the Empire of Leng (light green) and major worlds of the Imperium (red) in Verana Sector ________ As I plan to jump back into 8th edition and always one who needs fluff to accompany an army, here is the rough stuff for Leng, a pocket empire dedicated to Nurgle, or rather his son Ynoggua born from the anarchy of the Great Rift. Getting DI box I'll be focusing on a Death Guard army but Guard are my first love so I've added the Forgotten, basically a Nurglite Blood Pact. Plus some minor xeno races for flavour, notably the Uropygids who are inherently Lovecraftian, I intend to convert a Mi-Go model from Actung Cthulhu to act as a stand-in Sorcerer. A big Mythos fan, I plan on having a weird theme over the traditionally daemonic, the obvious being Ynoggua and my paint scheme will be bone, rusted iron and yellow the inspiration being the King in Yellow. When I (eventually) get round to creating a daemon-prince model for Ynoggua instead of the normal bloated MegaNurgling (lovely though they are) I plan on a grim reaper-esque figure with a rusty scythe, yellowed rags and a faceful of tenticles. So many tenticles. Please all C&C is welcome.

They lurched forward in waves, unnatural and rancid figures, resembling Space Marines but their countenances blighted and sullied with the stench of decay. Murky swarms of flies churned around them as they shuffled along on deformed limbs. Their rusted armor was greasy with the mucus that oozed from pocked carapaces bestrewn with sores. They held oxidized, grime-coated weapons in arms disfigured by foul disease. Despite their decomposing demeanors, these disgusting parodies of Space Marines were still formidable enemies. Wherever their weapons hit, men fell screaming, dark strains of crippling sickness spreading through their bodies. Weapons barely even fazed them, blasts and bolts absorbed into gnarled fusions of tissue and ceramite plate. Although the Guardsmen outnumbered them many times over, nothing seemed to interrupt the lethargic, scattered march of the Plague Marines. A discordant symphony of piercing shrieks, guttural death-rattles and the buzzing of warp-spawned pests followed them. Lieutenant Selwyn Barras cursed the day he had ever set foot on Ephesos. His regiment had come to the feudal world in response to bombastic claims that the dead were rising and slaughtering the human population. Barras’ superiors had put down the preliminary reports to the superstitious hysteria of barely-civilized serfs toiling in dark lowlands, growing meager rice in paddy fields. Following their deployment, however, regimental commanders soon assessed the blunt reality. Epidemics had ravaged Ephesos for months, but rather than alerting Terra to the outbreaks, the planetary governor had remained doggedly focused on ensuring that the world supplied its regular tithe of rice bushels to the Imperium. The governor and his staff had been the only ones off-planet to know about the hastily-dug mass graves containing the hundreds of thousands of peasants claimed by the spreading pestilence. They had broken their silence only when reanimated corpses had clambered out of their crude, shared tombs, ravaging all living things lucklessly in their paths. Fortunately, the mindless undead could not hope to match the exceptional training and veteran leadership of an Imperial Guard regiment. Rot rendered once-human bodies into soft meat easily torn apart by laser fire. Defeating the zombie hordes had proved more time-consuming than challenging, and in a matter of weeks, most of Ephesos’ key cities had been reclaimed by the Astra Militarum. Nature had not borne the plagues, nor their horrific creations. Unbeknownst to everyone, a Death Guard warband had instigated it all, and they were none too pleased at the disruption of their plans. They had attacked overnight, hobbling across the horizon. Regimental headquarters had instructed Barras to defend a dilapidated fortification along a stone wall running from a great river to a small inlet of a distant sea. The primitive masons who had constructed the barricade, with their highly limited knowledge of the universe in which they lived, would never have fathomed that the bulwark would someday be a citadel for the Imperial Guard against infernal demi-gods. “Not much we can do without plasma weapons, much less armored support,” Barras murmured to himself, chewing on his lower lip. He let out a troubled sigh. Commissar Aelia Tremelle, an ever-present face on the frontlines, could read the concern on Barras’ face as they observed the Plague Marines easily routing the forward positions. “The Emperor protects!” she yelled over the din of battle. What Tremelle lacked in persuasion she made up for in force of will. She was an ardent believer in the Imperium, and it was not hard to share her certainty, to emulate her zeal and unquestioning loyalty. Usually when Barras spied Tremelle’s peaked hat and fancily decorated coat, it bolstered his morale, reminded him that the all-powerful God-Emperor safeguarded humanity, against enemies both material and immaterial. This time was different. He reckoned by morning it was more probable he and the rest of the unit would be host to maggots rather than Tremelle’s unflappable passion. He buried his pessimism, though, knowing he could not risk revealing it. Tremelle would have used it as an excuse for a summary execution, but Barras did not fear his own death. He was more afraid that his despair would dishearten the rank-and-file, the men and women who depended on him for strength and guidance. Tremelle inspired them with moral purity, but it was from Barras they looked for leadership. If they saw him wavering, giving in to doubt and fear, they would resign themselves to annihilation. It was unlikely they could win against heretic Astartes, of course, but victory was not the goal now. Their objective was to offer the strongest resistance they could muster, to not give a single inch freely to the approaching traitors and their Chaos overlords. He grabbed the Aquila necklace he wore and pressed it against his lips. Readying his bolt pistol, he turned from Tremelle to face the soldiers who had fixed their wide eyes upon him, their las-rifles primed. His heart thudded in his chest in anticipation as he searched for the words. “Have no fear! We will never surrender! We fight for humanity and the Emperor! All of you: die standing! Be ready to greet the Emperor with pride!” Tremelle cheered first as he finished, a booming hurrah, which the enlisted ranks copied with raucous shouting of their own. The speech, as brief as it was, had done its job. Barras aimed toward the Plague Marines and fired. Lasers flashed past him, hitting their targets with great accuracy, but with minimal effect. The Death Guard traitors kept up their relentless march, cascades of shells spewing from their filth-encrusted weapons. Beside him, the side of Tremelle’s head exploded outward in a gory mess. Her corpse toppled over in the same direction seconds later. A determined Guardsman took her place. Tremelle had often spoke of her demise in hallowed, sacred terms, promising it would be a noble sacrifice. In truth, Barras saw nothing poetic or dignified about it. Instead, he wished that he would meet his death as quickly and unexpectedly as she had. “Look!” Barras swung his head around and saw a trooper pointing heavenward. Following the upturned finger with his eyes, Barras noticed a trail of fire blazing across the sky. It looked as though a meteor storm had suddenly broken out over Ephesos, another ominous omen to go along with the dead rising and demonic corruption. He could not long take his gaze away from the oncoming scourge; their drumming bolters would not permit them to be ignored. Each concussive shot that landed sent dirt, blood and viscera flying. It took every ounce of willpower to take decent aim and fire, and every fiber of his courage not to lose his nerve when he saw a Plague Marine disregard the shot when it landed. The only weapon he possessed which was serving its function was his faith, for it was that alone that kept him rigid to where he stood. Providence appeared to reward that faith. As the apparent meteoroids drew nearer, gaining ever more spectacular speed, it became clear they were something else entirely. They were drop pods of the Adeptus Astartes, and with ear-popping booms they plunged into the earth to the west of Barras’ position. Rocks and rubble sailed high in the air. Almost immediately pod doors whisked open, releasing their enormous occupants. The head of every soldier in Barras’ unit, the lieutenant himself included, had turned to gawk at the Space Marines in awe. In their power armor, they stood just over eight feet tall. To call them colossuses would barely do them justice. Despite looking like the figures of men, they were nevertheless alien and threatening, exuding auras of overwhelming violence. Their faces were hidden behind their helms, muzzle-mouthed and skull-faced, with piercing red lenses. Their armor was a pale tone of gray with yellow trim, and on their left pauldron a red scorpion raised its stinger menacingly against a white circle. In fluid motions, they smacked their bulky gauntlets on the stone eagle emblazoned over their breastplates before breaking out into sprints toward the Plague Marines. It seemed absurd that giants could move with such amazing celerity. Barras’ eyes were fixed on the goliath leading the charge. While his brothers mostly fired bolters, he carried a two-handed maul with two heads, each swathed in a powerful disruptor field. Letting out a growl that sounded distorted and harsh through his helmet speakers, the Marine swung his gigantic hammer and pounded an unsteady Plague Marine square in the chest. The sparking force field around the hammer’s head flashed on impact, amplifying the already inhuman strike to insane levels of strength. The Plague Marine flew backwards, landing and skidding around twenty yards away. Not dwelling on what he had just done, the maul-wielding Marine shouted to his comrades: “Let free the retribution of the Emperor, my brothers! Purge the unclean!” Unbelievably, the fallen Plague Marine rose again, a crater on his chest, dazed but not nearly incapacitated. It took a few more steps before being engulfed in a searing fireball. Many of the Marines wearing the scorpion heraldry carried flamers, and were using them liberally to submerge their Death Guard foes in infernos. The consuming blazes did little to dismay their shambling targets, and most of the Plague Marines continued firing their bolters and swinging their blades even as the flames scorched their armor and burned away their fetid flesh. Rather than seek their survival, they seemed to welcome death once it was credibly offered to them, as if it were some cherished gift. One of Barras’ soldiers let out a whoop of deliverance, sparking a chorus of additional supportive yells. With renewed dynamism, the Guardsmen resumed firing volleys, even if it was a weak supplement to the strength and firepower of the Adeptus Astartes. A small quantity of Plague Marines had died, but more were gradually closing in on their newly arrived attackers. Methodical salvos of bolter, flamer and plasma fire from the loyalist Marines thrashed the ranks of the Death Guard warband, but few were stopped, and eventually the two forces met. A helmetless heretic, his head resembling a moldering shriveled prune, grappled with the Space Marine commander, a humming chainsword gripped in one tremendous fist. His dark moss-colored armor seemed to leak with sludge. The Space Marine commander tried to shove him away, but his gauntlet slid clear due to the slimy gunk. The Death Guard warrior lunged, slashing his chainsword across the commander’s shoulder and blood sprayed through the split in the armor. The commander responded by slamming his elbow into his opponent’s belly and jumping backward, trouncing his maul onto neck and head. Like the rotted fruit it resembled, the Plague Marine’s head broke open, bone and brain obliterated in an eruption of filthy carnage. The decapitated body fell away as more enemies loomed. The scene became a festival of massacres, a carnival of blood and ferocity. A Space Marine fighting beside the commander died, an axe plunged into the space beneath his helm, and he fell to the sound of his own gurgling blood. Another Space Marine swept up his dead comrade’s bolt pistol and emptied the magazine into the killer. He was instantly set upon by a Plague Marine carrying a combat knife, which in Barras’ much smaller hands would easily have been a sword. The Chaos-corrupted Marine drove the serrated blade into the gap between breastplate and helmet before wrenching it out. He stabbed repeatedly, laughing with horrid glee, until the Space Marine collapsed. He was so caught up in his homicidal mania that he did not even notice the Astartes commander swinging his maul until it landed on his back, shattering his spine. The hammer rose and fell over and over, quickly turning the Plague Marine into a bludgeoned corpse. The battle was even, with the Space Marines winning slightly, but Barras wondered how long that would go on. The Death Guard Marines, though few in number, were only stoppable by extreme use of firepower or overwhelming brute force. In a conflict of pure attrition, the advantage lay with the nigh-invulnerable plague-bearing juggernauts. They were, Barras thought to himself, avatars of the inevitable entropy in the universe, the unpleasant but nevertheless harsh truth that all things, no matter how glorious or precious, would someday collapse and congeal, falling to ruin. Even the Imperium of Man, for all its splendors and righteousness, would at some point vanish from the universe, just as the brightest suns in the galaxy would fade into cold dark masses…. He was shaken from these heretical thoughts by the rumbling sound of Thunderhawks howling from behind him, their wing mounted guns blasting away. One by one, the Plague Marines exploded in a series of massive detonations. With almost stoic passivity, the more distant Death Guard survivors were torn apart by over-sized battle cannons spewing high-explosive rounds, others shredded by the shrapnel created by the rounds’ shell casings. The aircrafts banked around as they passed overhead, coming in low to the ground. When they landed, they unloaded streams of Space Marines, around twenty in each. From one, an enormous war machine strode clumsily down an exit ramp, roughly thirteen feet tall and just as wide. It moved in thumping, trifling steps, and its arms were weapons: the left was a steel arm capped by a wide chainsaw fist the size of an adult human, and the right was a long cannon with coils along its length that glowed dull blue. The battle ended soon thereafter. Barras’ men, exhausted and mortified by their brush with certain death, relaxed their discipline and slouched against the walls, some leaning on their firearms. Barras felt the urge to join them, but stopped when he spotted the Space Marine commander moving towards him. He snapped to attention, just as he had done years ago at the officers’ academy. He did his best to remain composed, but reflexively blanched at the noisy bluster of servos from the Marine’s armor joints. The Astartes had set aside his maul, and with gauntleted hands removed his helm. Underneath, his head was bald and leathery tan, marred with crisscrossed scars. His eyes were a light and watery blue, blank and unfocused. Barras smiled softly, hoping a relaxed and warm expression would obscure his nervousness before one of the God-Emperor’s chosen. Of course, he knew that was as futile as resisting an Inquisitor. “I’m Lieutenant Selywn Barras, my lord,” he began, “and we’re glad to see you…” “I am Brother-Captain Creon Mindarus,” the Astartes interrupted, “of the Red Scorpions’ Fourth Company. My orders are to purge this quadrant of the planet. Inquisitor Xanthus of the Ordo Malleus informed us that the traitors of the Fourteenth Legion were attempting to summon a powerful daemon, a harbinger of rot and ruin.” Barras nodded. “Well, it would appear your mission was accomplished.” “Not yet,” Creon said curtly. “Our orders were to cleanse this planet of Chaos taint, Lieutenant, and for us, that means all who were exposed to the corruption on Ephesos. Your unit has been deployed on the planet for several months, has it not?” Barras arched an eyebrow. “Y-Yes, my lord, to wipe out the walking dead…” “A task you did satisfactorily,” Creon replied with a cold monotone. “Yet, it was an error sending your regiment here. Despite its many commendations, you have one inherent flaw: you are mere humans.” He titled his head to one side briefly and clicked his tongue. “Well, most of you, at least. Your regiment has squads of abuhumans, yes?” “Y-You mean the Ogryns?” Barras stammered. “I have nothing to do with them!” The Astartes captain raised a hand to halt the protestations. “Your intentions are irrelevant. Even without the presence of abhumans, your regiment has been exposed to plagues and poxes your unmodified immune systems could not resist with guaranteed success. Rather than risk allowing you to leave Ephesos and potentially infect others, the chapter has decided to liquidate your regiment as part of our operations.” Barras went ashen as the blood drained from his face. His jaw dropped several centimeters and his eyes grew wide. “T-This is wrong! We did our duty!” “You did what was expected of you,” Creon responded with indifference. “Nevertheless, you cannot claim direct descent from the Emperor himself, as we can. Even few Astartes chapters truly do.” There was no pride on his lips; he spoke matter-of-factly. “You are flawed by your very nature, and thus, a liability. Your sacrifice serves the Imperium.” On instinct, Barras moved to run. Obviously the Astartes was faster. He reached out and clutched Barras’ neck in his gauntleted fingers. The Guardsman struggled in the grip, choking for air. Creon tightened his hold, crunching bone and cartilage with hardly a tensing of his muscles. Lifted off the ground, Barras’ feet kicked for solid contact, but soon went limp. The Astartes dropped him to the ground, where he fell with a thud. By this time, the worn and weakened soldiers of the unit had noticed the execution of their commander. As they processed what they were seeing, they also noticed that the charcoal-clad Space Marines had encircled them – and were now pointing their bolters, flamers, and plasma guns at them. Creon made a small motion with his hand and the Marines fired in unison, cutting down the surviving Guardsmen with ruthless efficiency. As lasers and flame reflected in his icy blue eyes, Creon whispered: “Purge the unclean.”

Hi all! The new edition has brought a great chance to start collecting the Death Guard. My goal is to make a beautiful themed army of Nurgle in half a year. Zombies, demonic machine and of course a lot of Plague Marines - its foundation. Color scheme: Nurgle in his blessing gives us life and death. That life, that death have the richest palette. From all shades of rust to any gradation of green. Therefore, I want to use for different units - their color scheme. What I have at the moment: 1. Flavivirus Febricis - yellow / rust color scheme for Helldrakes 2. Pus Vertit Viridi - dark green / khaki, colors for regular plague marines 3. Viridi Frigus - sick green, colors for plague marines champion or special characters 4. Erugo - rust / white for daemonic engines on the ground battlefield And that's what I started at the moment: 1. Lord of Contacgnation 2. Plague Marines 3. Noxious Blightbringer 4. Helldrakes 5. Maulerfiend and Forgefiend Thanks for looking!

Hi all, long-time lurker (to the extent that I legitimately forgot I had an account here and had to get Kurgan the Lurker's help recovering it [thanks man!]) and I thought that, since I'm a responsibleish adult, I felt that I should make a WIP log of my, already sizable collections. Now, my one, true love for factions is the World Eaters/Khorne Daemonkin. Even though it's the smallest of my factions right now, as I managed to luck out with some friends not wanting the Death Guard halves of Dark Imperium, so I got those on the cheap. And the Dark Angels were literally given to me by a friend who said, and I quote "Yeah, they're yours. I don't have the time to play 40k, or the space to store these". So I was just casually given at least 2k points of Dark Angels. So, welcome to my WIP thread. Some pretty pictures: Maulerfiend I'm most happy about how the eyes and legion badge came out Skarbrand Everyone's favorite madman: Khârn the Betrayer Some Daemons and a Spawn Mortarion More to come!

Hello! Had a game with a friend who doesn't enjoy the basic matched system of 9th, so we whipped up a little narrative blast instead. Glacer's Creek, aka Rorke's Drift from the19th century Zulu wars, is a delightful classic and seemed a good fit for the amount of miniatures we had at hand. The core of the scenario is simple: 1000 points of defenders sit in a hastily fortified location, in this case a remote bio-research facility, trying to survive 3-5 waves of varying enemies coming to get them. If half of the attacking models die, a wave ends. Defender's casualties are rolled for between the rounds, they can either die, return to the ranks with a band-aid or get put in a makeshift hospital to see if they can be patched up later. Should there be any defenders left at the end of the final wave, they win. With that in mind, let us set the scene! The Battle for the Bio-Labs At the distant backwaters of the galaxy, there exists a diminutive, discreet shadow empire ruled by their post-human Astartes overlords. Calling themselves the Echoes of Eisenstein, these marines consider themselves the true heirs of the XIV Legiones Astartes, the Unbroken Blades who never fell to the fell embrace of the Plaguefather. Though loyal to the cause of humanity, the millenia have not been kind and by the 41st millenium, their lot is that of open secession in all but name as far as the Imperium is concerned. Dour and stoic as ever before, the Death Guard however take this in stride and carry on with their clandestine wars. Bitter is the hate festering in them, seeing how the rotting Imperium they were made to protect slowly crumbles into further insanity and self-destruction as it ever pushes them further away, but for which they must still take up their arms and die if there should ever be a better tomorrow. Their bloated, fallen kin in the darkness of the Eye stand as an unforgivable example of what awaits, should they ever again become so lofty as to think nothing of the little people sheltering behind their might. Even if there is no hope, only slow decay and eventual collapse of it all, there is no despair and struggle, no such humiliation by the words of their erstwhile allies, that they won't endure to keep the unthinkable dream alive. The futility of it all is grimly amusing for their warriors, almost a point of pride even. In one of their many secret holdings, Captain-Commander Erasmus and his terminator guard have come to meet the apothecary doctor running an important gene-engineering project. Situation around the planet has become increasingly dire with alien lifeforms making planetfall, requiring immediate bolstering of existing facilities. Abruptly, the radars start screaming. There is no time, the xenos are already here. Barrels and crates are thrown to makeshift barricades as men scramble to firing positions. "Prepare the labs! I will stop them here!" Erasmus growls. Meanwhile, in the falling dusk, the alien monsters creep closer... The first, exploratory wave is quickly cut down in a storm of bolter fire. Though the xenos are pushed back, a rampaging carnifex manages to down one of the terminators and couple of lesser men. The second wave takes a suicidal charge from one of the terminator teams sallying out of the facility to break, but is likewise thrown back in tatters in short order. While the Doc manages to patch some of the terminator brethren back on their feet, the approaching third wave thunders closer with much more force. Hulking monsters and massed smaller nightmares scitter on the dunes and charge forwards from the darkness. As fighting heats up on the trash heap side, at the other side the second terminator squad sallies forwards under covering fire from the rooftops to take the fight to the enemy, crushing raveners, rippers, gants and the heavier fire support beasts as they charge over. While that side gets taken care of, the central square is overran. The few terminators there cannot hold against the psionic might of the leader beasts and get mopped up by 'stealers in rapid succession. The auxiliaries don't fare much better and are unceremoniously cut down.