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Find any remnants of the new betrayers that remain in the system. Use whatever and whoever you need. Take them or destroy them as you must. Do it now, my son.” -Rogal Dorn, upon learning of the Massacre at Isstvan V +++ Though Yartsev wore armor that bore markings of the 317th Grand Battalion of Iron Warriors, he only ever referred to his battalion as "The Gravel Eaters." They bore the name as both compliment and insult in equal measure. It had come from a particularly grueling campaign on some forgotten world at the edge of the Ghoul Stars, where they had dug their emplacements in the rough earth so fast that their allies remarked that they must have consumed the gravel beneath them rather than shoveling it. Yartsev had responded with a remark about excreting bricks, which earned him the favor of everyone in the 317th who heard it. But the siege ended and so did whatever good humor the Gravel Eaters possessed about their lot in the universe. They certainly hadn’t expected reassignment to the Sol Sector. Fortifying what few cities existed beneath Pluto's artificial atmosphere seemed like a thankless task and the Gravel Eaters hadn’t exactly relished rearguard duty. He remembered brawl after brawl between squads (the luster of Olympian discipline on full display). Better fighting lay well beyond the bounds of the Sol Sector. Proximity to the throne world meant nothing, either. What had the Emperor ever cared for them? When they received new orders from Perturabo himself though, then things had gotten interesting. Suddenly the Gravel Eaters became the vanguard, tasked with establishing a foothold in the domain of the Emperor Himself. Treachery had proved kind to them. No more nagging from useless Engiseers who didn’t understand the importance of a sound bunker versus yet another edifice in praise of the Machine God. Even better, they had killed the few Imperial Fists who Rogal Dorn had insisted oversee their work on Pluto. The arrogance of him. The swill-swallowing coward. They had dug themselves in for months, arrayed themselves for war in a way that might even make their temperamental primarch proud, and drilled until their post-human bodies sang in exhaustion. So the fact that Sigismund had broken their lines within the first minutes of engagement came as something of a surprise. They had assurances from Perturabo this would not happen. Their primarch said that any retribution coming for them would stay soundly on Terra after he crushed the Imperial Fists force bound for the Isstvan system. All that had fallen to shambles. Sigismund had come and brought the wrath of his father with him. Worse, he had brought a group of Imperial Fists that seemed as zealous as himself. Not just the idiots who stood in front of their damnable Temple of Oaths (Temple of Arse, more like), but every single legionnaire seemed a cut apart from the famous stoniness of the Imperial Fists. They roared their hate at the Iron Warriors for the oaths they had broken to the Emperor and then they bellowed their own dedication to the Iron Warriors’ eradication. Before Yartsev could even reload his bolter for the first time in the fight, he took a kick to the head that sent his empty weapon flying and his form sprawling against the opposite side of the tench he had occupied. He felt a massive blade crash his ribcage and pin him to the wall of the trench. The Black Sword gleamed with light from nearby fires, its ebony surface as dark as the sky above. “You will tell me where your Warsmith is, Iron Warrior.” Yartsev tried to spit at the First Captain of the Imperial Fists, but the saliva didn’t leave his MK II helm. He simply shook his head in protest, the pain of his impalement driving the words from his mouth. Sigismund tore his sword free and with a single swift stroke, split the Iron Warrior’s helm vertically. “Damn traitors. Can’t even follow the orders of a superior officer now.” +++ And thus it begins. With the all-but-confirmed plastic Heresy set coming at us in the fall, I took the plunge. More accurately I put my foot in the water to gage the the temperature, but yeah. I'm in there. So the idea for the force is to represent Sigismund and his brethren in the Age of Darkness, before the siege of Terra. These Fists are striking out across the Sol Sector on Dorn's orders and eliminating the remaining traitor legionnaires, like the Iron Warriors on Pluto (deployment I made up, happily accepting feedback on my Iron Warriors portrayal). I have some strong ideas about where Sigismund's character is at this point and how he starts thinking about the legions during this time. He isn't the first High Marshal yet. He isn't even the Emperor's Champion yet. But and that changes how he thinks. Anyway, expect some construction in the future and maybe some paint in late August/early September (when I'm back in school).

“My Lord, we have… a report.” “... Lord Hale? Are you well?” “... Icran?” Icran Hale turned from the armourglass window where he had been standing, immobile. His Master of Ships, a slender, hard-faced woman, was staring up at his vast form, concern in her eyes. Her brown hair was slipping out of its usually well-kept bun, and she looked exhausted. “My Lord, my apologies if I was over-familiar. It is just… you haven’t left your quarters for a significant period of time. Lord Knos was on the verge of shuttling over to us to see what was wrong. The crew have been unable to sleep due to...” Icran furrowed his brow. “Knos need not concern himself, Persephone. I recognise I have been... withdrawn, of late. There has been much to consider in light of, well -” he swept one massive, armoured hand towards the window. “I need not elaborate further.” Persephone swallowed, trying not to look out of the window into the void. The storm unnerved her. It unnerved the entire crew, and seemingly affected even the transhuman Astartes aboard. Baseline humans had suffered terrible dreams since the warp-miasma had howled into existence just days previously. Icran continued, his voice a rumbling bass. “My understanding is that none of the fleet Astropaths have been able to pierce this storm. It is as though the Five Hundred Worlds have been entirely consumed by the Immaterium. I can only assume some vile process unleashed by Lorgar’s witchspeakers. We have entirely lost the trail of the Red Angel's beasts.” He strode across his quarters, his yellow Terminator armour clanking across the deck. Persephone’s neck craned back further as he approached. “Give me your assessment, Shipmaster.” “My Lord, I cannot recommend the fleet making any attempt to traverse the warp-storm. It is larger than any storm recorded in our databanks. What is worse, the Navigators report that the light of the Astronomicon cannot pierce the storm. If we entered it, we would be entirely blind.” She handed him a dataslate, which looked to be the size of a playing card in Hale’s vast gauntlets. He read it, digesting the complex information in a glance. Hale frowned further, looking back out of the window into the heart of the Ruinstorm. The stars outside of the ship were stained a bruised purple, with flickering lights dancing across the void. Here and there, strange and unsettling shapes manifested in swirls of teeth and eyes. Across the other side of the ship was a clear, glittering view of realspace, standing in stark contrast. Hale sighed. “Please hail Lord Knos.” Persephone nodded, moving across the modest chambers of the Household Commander to manipulate a small console set by the door. She spoke softly into a grille, before turning to nod at Hale. “Lord Knos?” Hale’s voice boomed across his living chambers, as he moved into view of a pict-camera mounted on the ceiling. “Lord Hale,” a voice crackled from recessed speakers. Hale gestured for Persephone to stand beside him, as a pict-image flashed up on a pictscreen in the living chambers. It was grainy, but clearly showed a tall figure armoured in brilliant cobalt blue plate, trimmed in burnished gold. “Lord Knos, I assume you have seen the reports from the Astropaths and Navigators?” “I have. It makes for grim reading. The Five Hundred Worlds are sealed behind this storm. It appears to be larger and more intense than anything seen since Old Night. The Emperor’s Light cannot pierce the sorcerous murk. My men would have us plunge into its heart, to defend Ultramar no matter the cost...” The Ultramarine left the sentence hanging. “I do not doubt the valour of their intentions, but I must question the value of such a sacrifice. If we send the battlegroup into that storm, we will not emerge from the Immaterium. We… we do not even know if Ultramar still stands.” Knos snarled in fury, his image on the pict-screen distorting as he spat out his words. “Make no mistake, Icran. Guilliman is alive. He has not suffered the same fate as Lord Manus, or Lord Corax. He lives. Ultramar lives.” “We cannot know anything for certain while the storm persists, and it shows no sign of abating. We were sent to the fringes of Ultramar to hunt Angron’s mindless beasts, but now we may as well be becalmed.” “What are you suggesting? That we abandon Ultramar? We abandon the Five Hundred Worlds? We spit on our oaths and trample our banners? That we run?” Hale surged towards the pict-screen, startling Persephone. “Never speak like that to me again, Knos. Think about what you are saying. If I let you and your men spend your lives like worthless coin and die in the warp, then I may as well throw my lot behind the scum we once called our brothers. We need to focus on what matters.” Knos’ face softened, and he learned into the pict-camera, his face filling the screen. “And what, Household Commander Hale, is ‘what matters’?” Hale straightened, squaring his vast shoulders. “Terra. The Throneworld.” Knos said nothing for a moment. “You mean to take the fleet, set course for Terra, and what? Fight through the Warmaster’s burning front lines to enter the most secure system in the Imperium? With a handful of ships? Past tens of thousands of traitors, millions of their rabid followers and the warp-beasts that they command?” “It is still a better plan than sailing into the largest warp storm humanity has ever seen without the Astronomicon to guide us.” Hale turned to Persephone. “How long would it take?” The Shipmaster bit her lip, thinking hard. “Ordinarily, with favourable currents? Six months. We are on the western edge of Ultramar, but reaching Sol still requires passing across a vast amount of space.” Hale looked back at the pict-camera. “Six months in peacetime, so a year or more in wartime. We will still reach Terra before the Warmaster. And we will carve through any traitors we find on the way.” Knos looked off-screen, clearly conversing with some of his captains who were in the ship’s bridge with him. He sighed, in a rush of static through the comm-link. He was no fool, and knew rushing back into the warpstorm would achieve nothing. “To Terra then. But, Icran, you must promise me something.” “Anything, brother.” “If we find loyal Imperials in need, whether they be fellow Astartes, Imperial Army regiments, or non-combatants -” “We will bring the full wrath and fury of the Mountainfire Company upon any traitors in our path. And I would hope the Masalian Fifteenth would be by our side, shoulder to shoulder.” Knos nodded, with a small smile. “Well then. I believe your Shipmaster has some preparations to be making.” Icran Hale nodded, returning the smile before terminating the comm-link. Persephone snapped to attention, executing a crisp salute. Hale looked down at her, the smile still on his face. “Shipmaster. Plot course to Terra.” +++++ Hello all! Welcome to the project diary for the Mountainfire Company, a Horus Heresy Imperial Fists/Ultramarine Shattered Legion force. I’d had Imperial Fists rattling around in my head as a force to do for some time, and I finally got started recently with some Cataphractii Terminators. As I was part-way through the first squad… I read Betrayer. The scene (keeping spoilers to a minimum) involving the Ultramarine breacher wall made me almost want to drop the Imperial Fist project then and there in favour of the boys in blue, before I had a brainwave. I dreamt up the idea of a combined Fists/Ultramarines shattered legion force, crusading their way from Ultramar to Terra. The idea is that Icran Hale, the Household Commander of the Mountainfire Company, was on a cooperation assignment in Ultramar at the outbreak of the Heresy. The Dropsite Massacre occurs, followed by Calth. He buddies up with Gregor Knos, a no-nonsense Ultramarine Commander, and together they chase down some World Eaters on the edge of the Five Hundred Worlds… only to be cut off by the true eruption of the Ruinstorm as Lorgar’s Shadow Crusade reaches its zenith. Unable to re-enter Ultramar, they decide to return to Terra, killing any traitors in their path. Below is a small gallery of what I’ve done so far - two squads of Cataphractii Terminators, designed to be mixed-specialist close-combat veterans, with an assault cannon thrown in for rule-of-cool. Oh, did I mention everyone is going to have shields? Thats right, this is a Stone Gauntlet force! I’m working to build a 30k Centurion Mode army. The principles here are simple - infantry, walker and skimmers only. No tanks. Things like artillery or Leviathans are 0-1. This should mean the army is very infantry heavy, and aimed to crush other infantry heavy forces. Next on the table are two (thats right, two) Deredeo dreadnoughts, and the first of the Ultramarine breachers. Watch this space… Pictures: http://i.imgur.com/plBYZGqh.jpg http://i.imgur.com/RtC8sBLh.jpg http://i.imgur.com/TE6wsOZh.jpg http://i.imgur.com/yxErqS7h.jpg http://i.imgur.com/bT6Glzbh.jpg http://i.imgur.com/ezjhOufh.jpg http://i.imgur.com/uU9yNYgh.jpg http://i.imgur.com/lkniPijh.jpg http://i.imgur.com/GYaxMXHh.jpg http://i.imgur.com/xV7645Hh.jpg http://i.imgur.com/1PFVKmBh.jpg http://i.imgur.com/SofWyTnh.jpg http://i.imgur.com/DsAgWijh.jpg

greetings, I'm coming from 40k0. Been lurking B&C painting/modelling section for a while and I thought i'd start posting and sharing my work. here's my start on the Imperial Fists 5th company. This project is looking pretty exciting, I'm looking to really bring these guys to life and develop the Chapter a bit more. hopefully I'll have more to share as I finish some modeling and christen my handy-dandy new airbrush with craploads of yellow. Sorry for the bad pictures, believe or not these were the best ones of the batch... Just looking to share and fishing for C&C. http://i51.photobucket.com/albums/f390/augustmanifesto/imperial%20fists/102.jpg http://i51.photobucket.com/albums/f390/augustmanifesto/imperial%20fists/103.jpg http://i51.photobucket.com/albums/f390/augustmanifesto/imperial%20fists/105.jpg http://i51.photobucket.com/albums/f390/augustmanifesto/imperial%20fists/106.jpg http://i51.photobucket.com/albums/f390/augustmanifesto/imperial%20fists/107.jpg http://i51.photobucket.com/albums/f390/augustmanifesto/imperial%20fists/111.jpg http://i51.photobucket.com/albums/f390/augustmanifesto/imperial%20fists/109.jpg http://i51.photobucket.com/albums/f390/augustmanifesto/imperial%20fists/108.jpg

As promised, here is the Imperial Fists version. Enjoy

Hi guys Do any of the ezy to build models from shadowspear or the new Start collecting Primaris Vanguard set (same models) work with Imperial fists? I'm concerned as theirs a severe lack of options with the ezy to builds in relation to weaponry, so trying to determine if I'm I better off going through normal boxes. Cheers Thalidar

Update to original post: I reworked the list to address issue with taking a Command Rhino in my allied detachment HQ slot and make the Imperial Fists detachment provide more infantry shooting support. Hi Folks, So I've been toying with the idea of adding an Imperial Fists allied detachment to a DoR Blood Angels list I've been refining. In addition to just looking and feeling awesome, I'm going down this route because I wanted the Imperial Fists to provide ranged support. As you'll see, the list isn't fancy - I actually don't use any special units for both legions - but I think both legions complement each other. ++ Crusade (Legiones Astartes: Age of Darkness Army List) [1,594pts] ++ + HQ + Chaplain [147pts]: Artificer Armour, Bolter, Jump Pack, Melta Bombs, Plasma Pistol, Power Axe, Refractor Field . Consul: Chaplain Chaplain [147pts]: Artificer Armour, Bolter, Jump Pack, Melta Bombs, Plasma Pistol, Power Axe, Refractor Field . Consul: Chaplain Praetor, Legion [180pts]: Artificer Armour, Digital Lasers, Inferno Pistol, Jump Pack, Melta Bombs, Paragon Blade + Elites + Apothecarion Detachment [130pts] . Apothecary, Legion: Jump Pack, Power Armour, Volkite Charger . . Chainsword or Combat Blade: Chainswords/Combat Blades . Apothecary, Legion: Jump Pack, Power Armour . . Chainsword or Combat Blade: Chainswords/Combat Blades + Troops + Assault Squad, Legion , Compulsory [290pts]: 14x Assault Space Marines, Legion . Additional Wargear: 3x Power Axe . Assault Sergeant, Legion: Artificer Armour, Bolt Pistol . . Power Weapon: Power Axe . Standard Wargear . . Chainsword or Combat Blade: Chainswords/Combat Blades Assault Squad, Legion , Compulsory [290pts]: 14x Assault Space Marines, Legion . Additional Wargear: 3x Power Axe . Assault Sergeant, Legion: Artificer Armour, Bolt Pistol . . Power Weapon: Power Axe . Standard Wargear . . Chainsword or Combat Blade: Chainswords/Combat Blades + Fast Attack + Primaris-Lightning Strike Fighter [180pts]: 2x Kraken Penetrator Heavy Missiles, Ground-tracking Auguries, Twin-linked Lascannon + Heavy Support + Sicaran Battle Tank [230pts]: Accelerator Autocannon, Armoured Ceramite, Auxiliary Drive, Heavy Bolter, Heavy Bolter Sponsons, Hunter-killer Missile + Allegiance + Legion and Allegiance: IX: Blood Angels, Loyalist Rite of War: The Day of Revelation ++ Allied Detachment (Legiones Astartes: Age of Darkness Army List; Imperial Fists) [906pts] ++ + Troops + Tactical Squad, Legion , Compulsory [248pts]: Bolters, 13x Tactical Space Marines, Legion . Additional Wargear: Additional Chainswords/Combat Blades, Nuncio-vox, Vexilla, Legion . Tactical Sergeant, Legion: Artificer Armour, Melta Bombs . . Combi-weapon: Combi-weapon: Plasma gun . . Power Weapon: Power Axe Tactical Squad, Legion , Compulsory [248pts]: Bolters, 13x Tactical Space Marines, Legion . Additional Wargear: Additional Chainswords/Combat Blades, Nuncio-vox, Vexilla, Legion . Tactical Sergeant, Legion: Artificer Armour, Melta Bombs . . Combi-weapon: Combi-weapon: Plasma gun . . Power Weapon: Power Axe + HQ + Siege Breaker [140pts]: Combi-Bolter, On Foot, Solarite Power Gauntlet . Cataphractii Pattern Terminator Armour: Terminator Armour . Consul: Siege Breaker + Heavy Support + Heavy Support Squad, Legion Heavy Bolter [270pts]: Hardened Armour, Heavy Bolter, 9x Space Marines, Legion . Sergeant, Legion: Artificer Armour, Bolt Pistol + Allegiance + Legion and Allegiance: VII: Imperial Fists, Loyalist Total Point: 2,500 I haven't bought any of the Imperial Fist units, so I have maximum flexibility with this list. I also have a 10 Dawnbreakers, 5 Crimson Paladins, 5 Tartaroses, 10 Breachers, a Blood Angels Preator in Tartaros armor, an Incaendius Dread, and a Blood Angels Contemptor Dread, so I've got options for my Blood Angels list. Thanks!

+++ Quintus let the slightest sigh escape his lips and he watched the coldness of the air trace the outline of his breath. He could hear the rain pattering across what little remained of the building’s roof. He found it calming. The arrhythmic sound helped clear his thoughts in the remaining moments before his squad would strike. For three days, he and his fellow Eliminators waited inside one of the only buildings that still overlooked the city’s main roadway. Before the Tyranids landed in force and began reshaping the planet with their foul biology, the roadway bore the name “Petitioner's Lane.” But any petitioners who once walked these streets fled long ago or suffered worse fates at the hands of the city’s new occupants. The Eliminator sergeant could hear the xenos moving below on the street. The telltale click of Tyranid claws on the shattered masonry set his teeth on edge. Their corruption offended him and he could feel sheer hate pulsing behind his eyes. For three days, Quintus’ squad had watched the aliens construct and grow their horrible breeding pools all across the city. Lesser forms, with the sheen of birthing fluid still coating their skin, streamed out of these organic factories constantly. The screeching never ceased. The enemy chittered and screamed of a victory that the Imperial Fists would soon deny them. The largest of these breeding pools sat across the lane from their building. If the swarm required it, the pool could create massive creatures capable of matching a tank in size and firepower. Quintus and his men knew this from their briefing before deploying three days ago. The briefing where the Captain of the Fifth asked that they bear the indignity of waiting inside an occupied city, watching the foe corrupt it, and not firing a single shot until a high value target revealed itself. Miserable work by the standards of any warrior. But Squad Quintus obeyed and waited. They waited for the thunder. Then the thunder came. And the sky opened. Thunderhawk Gunships in the bright yellow livery of the Imperial Fists appeared suddenly through the clouds and rushed towards the ground. Smaller craft danced in front of them and rained death down on the flying Tyranid forms that swarmed up towards them. The Eliminators watched their brothers descend to the planet wreathed in steel and with their colors born proudly. Quintus kept his misgivings to himself and turned back towards the Tyranid pool. The surface of the pool began bubbling with gestation and Quintus motioned for his two brothers. The knelt on either side of him, las fusils at the ready and steadied on the broken windows that looked out across the lane. Something massive took shape in the alien structure below them. Even in a half-formed state, Quintus could tell that the creature could easily crush an Astartes underfoot with its sheer weight. A pulsating cannon formed along the creature’s spine and it gave an ear-splitting roar of pain as the hive mind of the Tyranids spontaneously rewrote its genetic makeup. Quintus motioned the word for “wait” in battle-sign. His hands tensed as he did so. After three days, condemning his brothers to waiting for even another second felt like cruelty of the highest order. But as the beast below emerged from the fluid that birthed it, Quintus finally loosed his hand and pointed directly at the Tyranid monstrosity. At this command, the two Eliminators beside him opened up with a volley of shots from their las fusils. Beams of white-hot energy sprang forth from the barrels of their guns and punctured the newborn creature faster than the eye could track. The beams both penetrated and cooked the Tyranid. Quintus watched with no small satisfaction as the beast’s many eyes began to boil and then burst from the las fusils’ heat. It made one last whimper of pain and then fell to the ground with a thud. The comm unit in Quintus’ ear buzzed with static for a moment before a voice commenced speaking. “You did well, brothers. We have landed. Regroup with us at the main gate to the city. The Tyranids’ infection ends here.” At those words, Quintus felt his muscles relax. The tension of the three-day wait left him at the knowledge that his brothers safely made planetfall. He released another quiet sigh as his brothers ritualistically checked their weapons. After they finished their inspections, Quintus motioned towards his two fellow Eliminators and they all began the long walk down towards the Petitioner’s Lane.