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The project is finished (at least for now) and here are the results! An overall view: A Warlord : A techpriest lady: and a few closeups: there is a small astropathic choir(in a black stormcoats) overall: 6 infantry squads 2 platoon commanders 2 company commanders 3 astropaths 4 leman russes 1 shadowsword 2 wyverns 1 manticore the WiP of this project can be seen in http://www.bolterandchainsword.com/topic/353759-necromunda-astra-militarum-project-log/

So with the release of 8th i decided to spread my wings and start another army, having only collected Space marines for the past 5 years thought it was about time for a fresh start. after looking at the upcoming codex's the astra militarum caught my eye especially with the images the community site put out with the different regiments of guard, so i had hoped that we might see some new models come out with the codex sadly that was not to be and they where kitbashes. So i started to have a look around and see what other companies made stuff that fitted in with the vision that i had for the army, which is a hybrid of British WW1/2 so something along the lines of death korps of krieg. below is the first two test models for the project. i'm using the British WW2 colour scheme think it works well and am happy with how the units have come out i plan to use them for all the troops in my army while using the GW vehicles with conversions done to them to fit in with the general theme of the army. have 3 more test models to paint up then ill post some pictures of them all together until then comments and criticisms are welcome

Fellow Guardsmen! It's been a long time since my last report to Terran High Command! I hope the Emperor can forgive me. But the 409th is ready to emerge from winter quarters and hit the campaign trail once again. Real life demands not withstanding, I plan to get back to the business of putting more boots on the ground and shells in the air. I tried to find my old PLOG thread only to discover that it had been so long since my last update that it had been archived! Disgraceful! I'm fixing to keep this thread from suffering the same fate. I have to admit, it's no coincidence that the arrival of 8th Edition and the new Guard dex coincide with this army coming off ice. The new regimental doctrines sound very fluffy and fun to play with. I plan to try them all out just for kicks since I run my own homebrew regiment. Since it has been so long, like YEARS, since I last seriously posted, for those who don't know about the 409th, it's primarily an infantry based Guard regiment that is inspired by the American Civil War. I've seen random threads here and there on the old Intertrons in the past that were loosely inspired by ACW themes, and always had a mind to tackle it myself. I'm using a lot of third party kit which gets kind of expensive, but I think that this theme demands more than some simple head swaps to achieve the effect I'm going after. It's been a pretty long slog, but the 409th slumber'd for long enough and my boys have their dander up! Anyway, I figured the best way to start the new thread is with a PARADE! Who doesn't love parades, especially military parades glorifying the Emperor! So, I'll start there with some beauty shots of the boys I have all painted up ready for battle: Command Section: Here's a couple shots of the ranking officers, the Senior Officer in the middle and two Junior Officers. And their Regimental Advisors: Master of Ordnance, Astropath, a Fleet Officer and a Priest in there for good measure. And here's the CO with his command squad retinue: Bonus: Checkout my old count-as as Color Sergeant Kell in the back on the right - never got around to actually modelling the actual COLORS he was supposed to be entrusted with, but hes got the power fist and 'power' sword - the only chain sword in my army! Also included for bonus fun, an Ordo Xenos Inquisitor I painted up about the same time as I was doing this regiment initially, in case he ever needed to commandeer the regiment on Inquisition business: I don't really remember where I found this guy, pretty sure he's some kind of Privateer Press mini. Elites: Well, I guess these guys are Elites now, which honestly I feel is not optimal, but oh well, gotta sell those stormtrooper sprues! When I initially envisioned an ACW inspired army on the table I had thought I'd have entire platoons (in game terms) worth of infantry patterned in different uniform styles taken from famous civil war units. However, this is not as feasible as I foresaw from a cost and time standpoint. It became more practical to run Veteran squads in some of the more exotic unit patterns of the day, rather than try and run entire platoons this way. It just costs too much!! In-game it actually works pretty well as a way to distinguish Vet squads from your standard infantry squads, and easily explained from a fluff standpoint - as units gain seniority they appropriate unique attire befitting their veteran status. Anyway my first Veteran squad is patterned after the famous Union Iron Brigade. They were also called the Black Hats since the appropriated Hardee hats as part of their uniform instead of the typical kepis and forage caps. These guys are pretty much all Victoria Mini parts, but the heads are special. Steve Barber miniatures online has a massive range of historal minis for different eras and lots in the 28mm scale. And while historical 28mm is usually too small to be compatibile with heroic 28mm, they do have lot and lots of 28mm historic heads and their heads happen to scale extremely nicely with VicMini scuplts. They also work with GW as well, but mate with VicMini perfectly. I use the Steve Barber heads in this project extensively, they are a near perfect fit for this kind of conversion. Here's more of the squad: The special weapons in initially modelled for this squad was melta, back when melta vets were the hotness. But I guess the hotness is plasma now, so I suppose I'm going to have to go back and bang out a few plasma Vets for the squad. The 'melta' arms are all VicMini and really look the part for the aesthetic. Next Vet squad: these guys are patterned after the 11th New York Fire Zouaves. I really wanted to do some Zouaves units, but pretty much chickened out, since I don't really trust my greenstuff-fu, and no one out there is making baggy Zouave-style pantaloons in the 28mm heroic scale. So these guy are my compromise since they were a Zouave unit when they mustered in at the beginning of the war, and had a different uniform, a silk uniform that fell apart during their initial campaign! This is closer to the unit's second uniform, were they ditched their jackets and adopted dark trousers to replaces the baggy zouave pants that had disintegrated. Back in the old dex, (I'm talking 5th Ed. when I was heavy into planning this unit out,) There was no regiment restriction, and Harker was an interesting addition for a veteran squad. Zouaves drilled in light infantry open-order tactics - running these guys as light infantry infiltrating harassers was what I intended. This squad has sniper rifles - cheap and cheerful harassment weapons, inspired by the 'sniper' rifled muskets of the era. This squad is lead by my 'count-as' Harker. Is he even IN the next Dex or just the 8th Ed. index?? Well, he's a cool conversion anyway, don't know if he'll find the table for a while. And speaking of snipers, these guys can run as their own counts-as rattlings (although I do need a few more) or as part of a command squad for the BS3+. They are inspired by Berdan's 1st and 2nd US Sharpshooters. They were special regiments that recruited soliders who were proficient with the rifled arms of the day and could actually aim (most couldn't). They were used often as skirmishers at the divisional level instead of fighting in traditional two-rank battle lines. These guy are my own count-as Commissars. Every civil war regiment usually had a Sergeant Major, who was the senior NCO of the unit. Anecdotally these guys were known to be tough as nails and unflappable. In my fluff, these guys are senior NCO's who get inducted into special Officio Prefectus training programs and come out the other end as Sergeant Major Commissars. I always intended to get a couple actual Commissars painted up, but never got around. There's more I'd like to do for these guys to make them really stand out as Commissars on the tabletop. And here's another 5th Ed. relic: my counts-as Marbo. I think the Index still let's you run him?? But maybe its just Shadow Wars now? He was fun one to convert, but doesn't have a place right now in an 8th Ed. army. Pity.

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.”

just hosting some pics of a friends Guard army, he's redoing them with the new GW Bases and re painting the Fatigues in a Fenris Grey...trying for an urban theme. will note that he has used all scout heads on this unit...i didn't realise till i was taking the pics... and went huh...somethings different about em ... here are the new Wip pics of his force, i will show some pics of how they used to look beforehand after these ones... i think these 2 count as a hvy wpn team... a Very angry Vox operator... Generic dude(just showing how seamless the scout head looks) that's it for now, next post i'll show his old paint jobs. cheers, Mithril

Hi all So I started a WIP thread on my Mordians in the Forge section because it was being swamped by those over zealous pompous astartes. http://www.bolterandchainsword.com/topic/317558-mordian-painting-project/ Someone suggested I post here too. To avoid double posting I thought I would focus more on the tourament I will be entering with it with just the occasion shout out when I've updated the original thread. Quick background started with Mordians back in 3rd before taking a long (15yr) break. Had about 30 odd mordians and some praetorians. Since then I have picked up another 30-40 odd. I've stripped off my 3rd ed paints and the paint from the models I bought and will be updating their scheme to fit with 7th ed. The tournament is only 750pt single allied detachment FOC (no formations). So I am using it as an excuse to get all my mordians done even though I wont use them all. The tournament will be 3 games and scoring consists of primary marker objectives, secondary [bRB] malestrom and tertiary points based on kill point differential as well as the usual 3 suspects from the main rule book. The list I have in mind is Lord Commissar w/ m. bombs Primaris Psyker ML2 1 PCS w/ heavy flamer 3x Infantry squad w/ lascannons and GL (1x sgt w/ m. bombs, 2x dedicated taruox) Vendetta Wyvren That puts me at 750pts on the nose. The tournament is meant to be somewhat friendly. The TO has already stated they will turn down any cheesy/OP lists (scatterbike spam, 2++/2++, 2+ FNP deathstars etc). My goal with the list was to try and exploit IGs ability to spam somewhat useful troops at low points, whilst still having some mobility. I'm hoping for a 4+ on the IG/AM WL trait list to either gain orders or relentless. Also of note as allied detachment was designed not to be a primary detachment you do not receive the ideal mission commander rule. I'm also hoping will ML2 I have a better chance of picking up that 4++ on the divination table. 30 relentless guardsmen w/ lascannons and 4++ sounds like fun :-) Ill most likely be blobbing the guard unless I can see a reason not to do that for any particular game. The taurox with their built in dozer blades and obsec will be running around grabbing objectives until they meet their demise (quite promptly I imagine). The pcs will chill in the vendetta to grab end of game objectives and the vendetta line breaker. I'm sure the wyvren needs no explanation ;-) The tournament is end of January so I have a couple more weeks to get my models painted. Hopefully I'll be able to get a couple of practice games in too before then.