Clever Girl... - Wink Wink, Nudge Nudge

[The_Chaplain]

I realize this entry is longer than some of the others, but for the life of me I couldn't whittle it down as I needed to establish timeline (If a teacher ever gave me a one page paper I think I'd go crazy, I always have way too many thoughts to articulate for one page). Still, I hope you all enjoy my entry of the Confessors. Thank you for the opportunity to enter into this contest, and to all my fellow contestants, it's been a treat reading through your entries!

Chapter History: Chapter records indicate that the Confessors space marine chapter was founded in M35.6, during the "Dark" 13th founding, albeit under the name Adjudicators; their genetic lineage stems from the lines of Rogal Dorn, primarch of the stalwart Imperial Fists. Upon their creation, the chapter set off, as if guided by divine machination, towards the Gothic Sector and the Arx Gap, a storm of warp energies similar to the Eye of Terror near Cadia, but more turbulent – and much less safely guarded.

Due to their proximity to the raw maelstrom in M37 when the nightmare of Slaanesh was spawned into the planes of man, the chapter was flooded by a wave of raw, psychic energy, the daemon’s birth cries wrenching the souls from nearly all of the chapter’s librarians and latent novitiates. This event brought the chapter under Ecclesiarchical and Inquisitorial scrutiny, under the fervent watch of Saint Basillius the Elder.

In the Saint’s eyes, the chapter was damned. The Adjudicators sought redemption alongside the other condemned chapters in the collective

visions of Basillius – what was to become known as the Abyssal Crusade. Unlike their compatriots, however, the Adjudicators left several of their companies, namely the novitiate 10^th “scout” company, as well as the 8^th “assault” company, behind to guard their fortress monastery on the frigid wasteland of Corovodja, which the
chapter called home. This action would serve to shape the chapter’s history forever.

In the aftermath of the Abyssal Crusade, the Adjudicators aided the surviving chapters who emerged from the Eye of Terror and dethroned the corrupt Saint, who had turned out to be a pawn of the dark gods. The Saint’s ploy to sacrifice 30 Astartes chapters had backfired, but at a grim cost. Freed from suspicions of taint by the Inquisition, the beleaguered warriors returned home to Corovodja only to find that their beloved monastery had been reduced to rubble, the surface of their world irrevocably marred by the hands of a Nurgle-aligned war band of chaos. What awaited them in the keep was even more shocking, however. The few recruits that had survived all bore indelible physical and psychic scars,their once hopeful and bright demeanor transformed into those of veterans as cold and hardened as the planet’s noble houses of yore. The novitiates sang praises of the hero that had guided them through the hellish assault and its ensuing causatum: Chaplain Evagrius of the 8^th company, who met force with force before feigning retreat, time and time again, to gain the upper hand over the seemingly endless tide of enemies that beset them from all sides. At last, Evagrius had been the one to strike the decisive wound, felling the Daemon Prince Tha’muz.

Evagrius suffered grievous wounds defending the monastery, but he would not allow himself the mercy of succumbing until he had recorded a final confession from
his brothers; for death seemed imminent, and there was no telling if the warband would return to finish off the weary defenders. Upon completion of the solemn task, the
candle of Evagrius’ noble soul began to wane. It was then that the apothecaries set about their grisly work, managing to anchor the chaplain’s body and soul within the stasis of a dreadnought chassis. Evagrius and the sacrifice of the brothers under his command prompted Chapter Master Nicodim to rename the chapter, taking up the moniker of the Confessors. The trials and tribulations that they had faced only rekindled the chapter’s faith, sparking an undying determination to never again be pawns of the Ecclesiarchy. Blaming the undeviating Codex Astartes for many of their casualties during the Abyssal Crusade, they swore they would never again follow its teachings, going so far as to pen their own deuterocanonical literature on the arts of warfare and the practitioning of religious rites within a chapter.

Since then, the chapter has lain low in the fringes of the Gothic Sector, preparing static defenses on neighboring celestial bodies; venturing out on crusade only to stockpile ammunition and supplies, preparing themselves for a bitter war of attrition which threatens, once again, to doom the chapter to oblivion…

Visuals and Distinctive Elements:

The brothers of the Confessors chapter adorn themselves in bone-colored armor with black pauldron fields and dark metal trimmings; in eyewitness accounts, these vary from a penny-like copper to a dark, dulled brass. The marines of the Confessors chapter have a penchant for festooning their armor with morbid trinkets, including oddities such as hollowed femur scroll casings and scrimshawed bones. Allegedly, the service studs that are bolted into their forehead are the gilded

knucklebones of their venerated dead. Many brothers of the Confessors utilize rebreather equipment, wearing it in nearly every campaign they have fought in, seemingly distrusting of foreign air – or perhaps morbidly cautious of further virulent attacks. As the Confessors make it a point of pride to only recruit from feudal worlds (they believe these breed the noblest and purest of warriors), many of the chapter’s sergeants and captains have a coat of arms somewhere on their armor: either a crusade symbol,a personal coat of arms, or the insignia of the royal house from which they were recruited. Bikes, transports, and even tanks of the chapter’s armory and
motorpools are similarly festooned. Overall, a theme of mortality and a seeming veneration of death permeates the chapter to its core; even the chapter symbol, originally a hammer held in a clenched fist like that of their progenitor legion, has given way to a winged angel of death motif.

Combat Doctrine: The infrastructure of the Confessors chapter has undergone several transformations after their chapter’s unfortunate early history. Replacing the 8^th assault company with a second designated devastator company, the Confessors also transitioned troop transport from the rhino and razorback platform onto swifter, more mobile combat bikes as well as the land raider transport- a vehicle able to weather otherwise-crippling fire and/or strategically capture battlefield objectives at lightning speed. The flexibility exhibited in this new combat doctrine, which can best be described as a “mobile shield wall”, has allowed the chapter to capture key assets in this area of fringe space, while keeping allied casualties to a minimum. As melee combat itself has come to be eschewed by the chapter as a whole, melee armaments are now taken only as a precautionary measure, judging it wisest not to wade into the thick of battle. Though

it is unknown if this tenet is the reason the chapter no longer uses tactical dreadnought “terminator” armor, it would explain why many of the company veterans have adopted heavier armaments in recent millennia. The advance of Confessors across a battlefield can best be measured in sheer decibel level, as the staccato of covering devastator salvoes feeds into the throttling of shielding bike engines weaving effortlessly between tanks, the whine of supporting storm talons and the unceasing grinding of tank treads against unyielding ground. Death is imminent for the foes of the Confessors, and the uncertainty of its origin makes it all the more terrifying.

Chapter Heroes: Perhaps the greatest of the chapter’s heroes has been Chaplain Evagrius, "The First Confessor", hailing from the 8^th assault company. It was his sacrifice and dedication in the defense of the chapter’s fortress monastery that ushered in the winds of change for the chapter, forging them into the indomitable force they have become since

his internment. His distinguished service continues even today. Interred in a holy dreadnought sarchophagus, he guides the chapter in the rare occasions he is roused from his slumber; even conducting sermons on the eve of battle. Indeed, it is a high honor for a new chaplain to be gifted with Evagrius’ power armor, as a soldier worthy of its mantle must possess a near-titanic strength of character.

[Uaronain]

The Steel Vanguard

History - creation and any notorious moments

Tenth Founding: Iron Hand successors.

Notorious moments: Sided with the Moirae Schism against Mars and the Ecclesiarchy, after the destruction of
Moirae claimed to have destroyed a Moirae Explorator Fleet, in fact they absorbed it. The Magos Explorator Uar and the Master of the Forge Gaius underwent the ritual of Pure Thought; thus joining both minds into one and overseeing that all chapter members Rites of Pure Thoughts where the creative, emotional, illogical part of the human brain is replaced with a Cogitator that is connected directly to the logical left hemisphere. This liberates the marines of any irrationality and illogic, though. It also removes much of what makes him human. When wounded marines do not bleed blood due to autosanguination, a process by which all the natural blood in a human body is removed and replaced with a more efficient oxygen and waste-carrying synthetic chemical substitute, allowing for the easier healing of wounds and more effective immunological defence against disease and toxins.

Fortress Monastery is in fact a converted Explorator Ark

http://i237.photobucket.com/albums/ff225/uaronain/IMG_20130205_120358_zps14450c4a.jpg

Combat Doctrine - Fighting Style

Fighting style appears much like standard codex with a heavy emphasis on overwhelming firepower with an emphasis
on gun line tactics with Dreadnought, stormtalon and thunderfire support with plasma cannon servitors guarding the techmarines. No known librarians are known to exist within the chapter.

Notorious Character:

Master of the Forge Gaius after merging with Magos Explorator Uar: Started the Genesis Program that stores a
vast host of collected Spermatozoon and ovum that is used with servitor wombs
to grow initiates, those who fail the indoctrination program are instead turned
into servitors. Because of him marines are grown, augmented and wiped of any irrational
thoughts. He goes into battle with Artificer Armor, Conversion Beamer, Thunder hammer and full
retinue of servitors, two of them with plasma cannons flanking him. (I can post
a pic of him as well haha)

Distinctive Elements:

More machine than man, more extreme than the Iron Hands in “iron over flesh”

The Emperor is the Omnissiah, and he is the one true god.

Necros, Psykers, Xenos and Chaos are abhorred and cleansed when possible with
extreme single minded determination.

Fleet Based Chapter on the
fringes of Imperial Space, slowly growing above the 1,000 limit

Had a very hard time compressing
the chapter into something so small

[Belchuil]

*The inquisition has been here*
*Text expunged*

[Greyall]

Hey, mateys. I've been keeping radio silence, but rest assured I replay your submissions through my brain during a good portion of the day. This is being awesome on all accounts, thank you very very much.

 

Now for a little show-off of my own.

 

Our brother Rik84 of the Hairy Painter asked me to draw a Space Marine for his blog.

 

So, here with you tonight...Raem Brand of the Space Wolves

 

http://i174.photobucket.com/albums/w99/Khornoz/Hairy_zpse7dabba5.jpg

 

Tomorrow is the last day for submissions. 'Till then, mates, cheers.

[Aqui]

Unless I missed another post stating otherwise I thought the deadline was the 7th Feb, a Thursday?  That said, as a former Son of Russ, I like the Space Wolf picture ^_^

[Greyall]

Well, it is, but at 00h00m, so...=)

[Aqui]

Well, it is, but at 00h00m, so...=)

 

Well, when you put it like that :lol:

[Gulag]

Quote

 

 

Notorious Character: Enmerkar, the Lord of Hunger, Witch Prince of the Flesh Gorgers.

 

 

 

 

I just realized that I never described Enmerkar!

 

The current lord of the Flesh Gorgers is a particularly horrific servant of chaos. Enmerkar's armor is scabrous and marred like scarred flesh, and he wears a featureless white mask leaving only his mouth exposed, and his mouth is terrifying enough on its own, a distended lipless maw with multiple rows of sharp, jagged teeth. Multiple spines and insectoid limbs sprout from his back while his left arm has become a thick, segmented scorpion-like pincer and a thick, muscular tentacle has sprouted from his bicep, ending in a grasping lamprey mouth. His right arm is a normal limb and he carries an elaborately decorated force stave through which he channels his considerable psychic talent, paralyzing and crippling foes, ready to be consumed alive.

[Dark Apostle Thirst]

Rem Brand? Am I incredibly dense for thinking that's supposed to be Rembrandt with the paintbrush or because I had to question it to make sure? :unsure:

[Greyall]

Spot on, mate

[Kol Saresk]

Is it bad that I was so busying looking at the detail that went into his beard that it took me reading Thirst's post to realize the Space Wolf had a paintbrush?

[CaptainLNH]

What time does the contest end? I am afraid that I am a different time zone than you, and that I might not get my submission in on time.

I am US central time, and since I have work tommorrow till the evening, I am hoping that the contest goes through the end of Thursday, rather than the end of Wednesday. That way my submission is complete and not rushed.

[Firepower]

Putting such talent and time to work on a bad joke warms my heart.

I had an inkling of doing something similar myself when I won a coveted Greyall commision, but couldn't bring myself to do it :teehee:

[Messor]

Alpha Hounds

History

Founded in the early days of the 26th founding from the stock of the Shadow Wolves, the Alpha Hounds were created to ward off the chaos incursions in the Sagittarius arm, which were eventually accompanied by the expansions of the Tau Empire, and the tendrils of Hive Fleet Behemoth. In their youth the Chapter's zeal was peerless, and they formed a strong bond with the people of their homeworld and were dedicated to keeping them in the Emperor's Light. Barely a century following their founding the Chapter was drawn away from its wards by a chaos fleet, a lure which allowed the world to be invaded. The invasion forces did not count on nearby Imperial Navy elements, who notified the Hounds as they engaged the invaders. The commander of the Naval forces began to report that the battle was going poorly, the planet was falling, and exterminatus was beginning to look like the only option. The Hounds still on the planet said otherwise, certain the world could be saved. At their behest, the Chapter Master and council of leadership petitioned for more time to bring reinforcements, citing the loyalty of the natives and their faith in the Imperium, but were answered with silence. When the Chapter fleet emerged from the Immaterium over the homeworld, they found a burning husk.

It could be said that the Chapter was reborn from this event. The once eager and obedient Chapter took to their fleet, and became lethargic to answer the call of Terra. If faith in the Imperium were of so little value, they would treat it as such. Though they still consider themselves bound to protect the Emperor's children, they now operate more as a vagrant mercanary fleet than a respectable Chapter of marines, demanding payment to come to a world's aid.

Appearance and Symbol

Each battle brother wears a chain carrying the original intermediate phalange of their middle finger, sheathed in adamantium and insribed with the marine's name and the date he began service. Over time, other scrimshawed bones are customarily added to the chain, usually in honor of campaigns served.

Combat Doctrine

The Chapter specializes in ambushes and nightfighting, and often does more extensive analysis of the battlefield and terrain than of the opponent. The Hounds thirst for battle has lead to a preference for campaigns, and usually forgoe kill markings in favor of campaign markings and honors. These long term deployments are a fast drain on supplies and armored assets, greatly restricting their ability to employ Terminator armor and jump packs for their assault units. Strike forces lean heavily on their scouts to cripple enemy infrastructure and value their Devastators for their ability to combine firepower with stealth in a way armored columns never could.

The Chapter has a preferred enemy in the Kroot, who the Hounds have developed a literal taste for, an addiction caused by an Omaphagea mutation. The Tau's tribal allies are never given quarter, and to hunt them is considered an art and a privilege.

Notable Character

Messor Bitterhand- From a sparsly populated world hosting a small Alpha Hound supply base, Messor was actually named for the first Chapter Master. His tribe dealt freely and closely with the Hounds as often as they visited the world, and as honored and revered subjects of local legend, it was not uncommon for children to be named after those battle brothers whose names they learned. Messor was granted his tribal name after his first hunt, when elders noticed what austere relish he took in bringing down his prey. During the tribes very next encounter with the Hounds he was chosen as a candidate for recruitment. Living up to his name, Messor found a place among the Devastators, demonstarting great skill with the heavy bolter, though he developed a peculiar fondness for any Astartes grade firearm he could get his hands on. Upon promotion to sergeant he became well known for sewing chaos among the enemy in battle with squads using inferno ammunition against enemy formations. After sixty years of service, he was seconded to the Legio. He still serves most frequently with Devastator squads, but from time to time has led scout sniper teams, to which his keen eyes lend themselves well.

[Greyall]

Well, I guess there's no great harm in allowing one more day for submissions.

 

New deadline:

 

Thursday 7th February- 23h59min whatever the time zone.

 

Usually I'd be stricter about this, but I see no big deal.

 

Oh, I'll be posting the Dark Angel soonish.

[Kol Saresk]

So yeah..... About that deadline

[The_Chaplain]

So yeah..... About that deadline

Well, I doubt anyone was anticipating the servers crashing. We'll just need to be patient and see.

[Greyall]

Lol, very true. Ok, new deadline to make up for the downtime.

 

You have until the end of Saturday, 9th February. I'll review the submissions through Sunday and, if needed, a bit of Monday, then I'll post the winners.

 

I won't postpone the contest's end anymore, even if B&C goes down again. The reason being I'm all fired up to start drawing some of these DIY's.

 

Thanks again for your interest, mates.

[The_Chaplain]

 

Thanks again for your interest, mates.

 

Thank you for hosting the contest Greyall, it's not exactly every day that we're presented the opportunity to showcase our DIY chapters/warbands and to potentially have commissioned art done of them!

[fivepointedstar]

Just love the Dark Angel "hunter" on your deviant art page.

[Aqui]

Lol, very true. Ok, new deadline to make up for the downtime.

 

You have until the end of Saturday, 9th February. I'll review the submissions through Sunday and, if needed, a bit of Monday, then I'll post the winners.

 

I won't postpone the contest's end anymore, even if B&C goes down again. The reason being I'm all fired up to start drawing some of these DIY's.

 

Thanks again for your interest, mates.

 

You're fired up?  We're fired up waiting to see what you come up with ;)

[Greyall]

@Death Knight: Oh, right, the Dark Angel. And it comes with another bad pun included.

 

Ladies and gents...Alanqar Termaine

 

 

http://fc03.deviantart.net/fs70/i/2013/037/7/1/dark_angels___alanqar_termaine_by_greyall-d5u0vap.jpg

 

 

"Why would you ever stop running...?"

Alanqar Termaine, The Huntsman, The Lion's Verdict


The ship shuddered, and Mossomion played the warning in his head, hoarse vox-voice and all, a second before it came.

"Enemy boarding torpedoes have made contact. Sections Three, Seventeen, Twenty-Three and Forty will be compromised in under five minutes unless threat response is initiated."

He'd been right about everything, his knowledge of the Perpetual Dusk allowing him to feel the torpedoes' contact as if on his own skin. The Lion's pets were here for him, to exact vengeance for the murder of their Master Sabiel almost eight months ago. Mossomion dwelled on this for a moment...Jonson and his Angels had always been prone to grudges and rancors, but he'd watched their ships disengage hours after the Dark Angel Lord had died at his hands, not out of any crippling loss or disadvantage, but with no plausible reason other than perhaps realizing the folly of engaging a Night Lords fleet in blind rage. Nevertheless, a few shots from their battle-barge would've anihilated the Perpetual Dusk with little effort. For them to attack the Cruiser after this much time had passed (and they had surely been tracking and following the Night Lords, since there were no warp anomalies anywhere close to the Perpetual Dusk) meant the First Legion's cold fury was at its peak. Still, to follow an Eighth Legion ship outside detection range and ambush it was no mean feat. Whoever commanded the Angels was a focused one.

Mossomion counted six boarding torpedoes embedded in the Dusk's metallic skin. Close to sixty Angels against his seventy-five Night Lords. Perfect, he'd start worrying once Jonson's forces outnumbered his two to one.

"Krelius", he called the mortal crew member without taking his dark eyes off the screens, "show me visual feed on Section Twenty-Three. That's where their leader must be. That's where I'd be if I was boarding a Cruiser."

The man obeyed immediately and silently and, soon, all the screens in front of Mossomion were showing Section Twenty-Three from every angle possible. And it was empty. More exactly, devoid of life but for more than a dozen and a half dead Night Lords. Less than four minutes after they boarded, the Angels had already captured one of the most well
defended sections...He brought up a general view of the ship. Nothing like this was taking place in the other boarded locations. The Angels were winning in most of them, yes, but this was also due to the Night Lords' very strategy, to give ground in a controlled way, allowing the enemy into areas where their momentum counted little against a well-timed ambush. For the defenders of Section Twenty-Three, though, there had been no time to execute any strategy. The best explanation was a Terminator Squad, maybe even a Dreadnought, though he dismissed the latter as none of the torpedoes was of enough size to carry one of the iron behemoths.

"Krelius, give me any and all the footage you have on the fight for Section Twenty-Three. And start directing nearby squads to halt the Angels' advance"

Mossomion knew he needn't come up with any elaborate strategy for halting the Angels, no matter how they had managed to kill so many of his Marines. Every Night Lord on
board knew what to do. They'd kill the upstarts. At worst, they'd buy him time to think of a counter-manoeuvre. He watched as the screens in front of him replayed the moment when the torpedoes pierced the Dusk. Black-clad Angels, every one of them in power armour, stepped forward. No Terminators, then.

Less than a minute later, the first Night Lord defenders, the very eighteen that now lay dead in Twenty-Three, took position on the upper platforms. The first bolt rounds had barely been fired when the ships' own shadows turned on its defenders. Mossomion's brain didn't stop in the middle of producing this assumption simply because there hadn't been any mistake in it. Barely a second after the first shot was fired, a giant shadow tore into the Night Lords. Mossomion didn't wait to see the rest. This was new. This was
unexpected. And he hated unexpected.

"Krelius", he growled, find me this...shadow. Use thermal vision, whatever you need, I want to know how something so large ambushes us. Is this one of Corax's pigeons?"

"Krelius!", Mossomion roared, turning. He was already deciding who best from the mortal crew could replace Krelius after he crushed the incompetent's head. The Night Lord realized he'd have to crush something else since Krelius' head was missing. He'd also need to find a different way of ordering Kreliu's replacement to take his new seat since most of the crew was in the same sorry state. The few who still lived were likely to be unable to react to Mossomion's voice as their shock was taking hold of them.

Mossomion understood immediately. The Dark Angel (though it bore no Legion symbol, it had all the ceremonious gravitas of Jonson's lineage) didn't exactly merge with the shadows. He added to them, stealing the surrounding light. Every piece of his wargear, from the matte black armour to the cape and loincloth seemingly made of the darkest void, even the brushed metal that trimmed his frame...they gorged on light. Only the white crossed faceplate cut the dark silhouette, but even that seemed lost amid all the surrounding darkness. It carried few adornments: a slab of stone bearing a hooded angel and four Astartes helmets stripped of any paint and brushed to the same bleak tone of the figure's other metallic elements. As if drawn from a childhood nightmare, Mossomion thought as the figure took a step towards him. Ironic, he laughed to himself, bringing his chainsword up, that Jonson was resorting to fear against the Night Lords. Ridiculous.

"Cai Mossomion", the Angel spectre called. His voice was everything his figure wasn't. Calm yet full of life, deep yet not sounding as if belonging to a grave wraith, as happened with so many of Jonson's Chaplains. "You've slighted the First Legion by your actions in the gravest of ways. Lord Jonson has sentenced you to death, and you are hereby denied any last words."

The Night Lord somersaulted backwards, landing behind a console. His only chance against a Terminator would be to ambush him, hitting him repeatedly, weakening him until he could apply the final blow. The loyalist wretch had some nerve, denying him "any last words". Mossomion took a few steps to the right, seeking to come up from an unexpected position. He knew the Angel was still in the same place, the whirr of his massive armour's servos not part of his stealth camouflage. Mossomion came up, his plasma pistol perfectly aimed, his lips already moving to defy the Angel's verdict.

The plasma blast, not reddish like his but white-yellow and much more potent, hit Cai Mossomion from behind, liquefying him from the waist down, armour, meat and bones. As he fell, dropping his weapons, the Night Lord was still struggling to speak, though only blood came out. His killer loomed above, now more than ever the image of a reaper. He brought his massive power axe up.

Mossomion gargled harder, coughing blood. He looked at the Angel with eyes wide in pain, shock and hate. The loyalist seemed to notice and sighed.

"Do not make your case worse", the Dark Angel said, dropping the axe.

[Firepower]

Hm. Bit of an awkward pose. He looks as if he would be off balance, with the feet both braced behind his center, which itself is forward thanks to the arms. That could be a trick of perspective though, seeing as the tabard covers up the further back leg. Or it could be that his body is leaning in towards the viewer and being put at a downward slope, while the foot is flat and level with the viewer's perspective. Or it could ust be me

But the usual goodies are all there: some clever design bits in the shapes of the weapons, and crazy levels of detail crammed into a few small spots. :tu:

Now to stop being a critic and get cracking on my little DIY competition entry!

[fivepointedstar]

A few questions about Alanqar Termaine. Is he a loyal DA, or a fallen? The axe haft is it wood based? And is the TDA the Justaerin type? Or are the spikes a hint to his course of allegiance.

[Greyall]

@Firepower: Very true, mate. I still have a hard time with perspective and sense of depth, this guy is supposed to be leaning towards the viewer. Still have a long way to go regarding Space Marines, no matter how much detail I can cram.

 

@DK2000: He's a loyalist (or lionist - sorry) The wood part is covering a metallic center. He's wearing Cataphractii TDA. Spikes were a more or less common sight among Astartes before the Heresy, regardless of their later allegiance.