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Maverike Primes Conversion challenge #7


maverike_prime

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Greetings to all. I welcome to what is quickly becoming a regular event on the Bolter and Chainsword forums, Maverike Prime's Conversion Challenge. We've tried this a number of different ways and each version brings new obstacles to overcome. In our first challenge, we did a required Part. Beyond the required part being used in the conversion and being identifiable in the finished conversion, participants were free to do as they pleased for the challenge. The Required part was the Chronus Torso. The second challenge we did we used the main part of Lysander as the required part. With the third Challenge we changed things around and made it a "Counts as" challenge. In this case participants were challenged to make a Counts as Mephiston. WarInHeaven took over the next challenge and issued a challenge to Update an older model to stand along side the newer releases. Following that I returned to run the a Counts as Azreal challenge. Finally I ran the “Make it work” Challenge. Now, to ring in the new year I present you Maverike Prime’s 7th Conversion challenge hosted on Bolter and Chainsword.com.

 

This time around we’re doing a story driven set up. Here’s what we’re doing. Write a brief character description or short story (minimum 80 words, max about 1.5 pages). Then build a model based on the central character in that story or description. In order to limit the randomness of the possibilities the character will be required to be a Sergeant/veteran style character. So Field Sergeants, Veteran Sergeants, Chaos Chosen, Dark Angel Veterans, and Grey Knight justices are all fair game.

Now, the nitty gritty.

 

Rules and Information for the challenge:

What is this Conversion Challenge?

This conversion Challenge will be a 1 month challenge where in each participant will create a converted model within the guide lines set down for the challenge. In this challenge, the guide lines are to represent a particular character that you have created in a short story or description. NO BLACK LIBRARY MATERIALS!

 

The Challenge is recorded has having started Thursday the 1st of December, 2011. All entries must be submitted prior to 12:00 noon EST January 1st, 2012. There will be NO EXCEPTIONS!

Limitation 1:

The conversion must be appropriate for this forum (Remember, we are on BolterandChainsword.com after all)

Limitation 2:

All submissions should be based on game appropriate bases, 40mm base or 60mm base are appropriate for infantry based models, while biker and 100mm bases are acceptable for mounted models. Try to avoid putting the conversion on bases larger then those.

When is the Challenge?

The Challenge is recorded has having started Thursday the 1st of December, 2011. All entries must be submitted prior to 12:00 noon EST January 1st, 2012. There will be NO EXCEPTIONS!

How do I submit my conversion?

Post pics of it. There are several free image hosting services available online including Photobucket and Flickr. You can upload your pictures to those services and then post links to them in a thread on this forum. If you encounter difficulty in getting the pictures uploaded, I encourage you to ask for help. For additional information on taking good pictures of your miniature, We suggest you take a look at the B&C's Photoshop Tutorial: Profession Pics of your Minis.

 

What do I need to submit?

Pictures. for simplicity sake, I ask that you submit 5 shots of your conversion.

1) Front or head on shot

2) A shot from the left side

3) A Shot from the right side

4) A shot from the back side

5) A 3-view shot from the front-right, or front-left. You're choice.

 

Here are Examples of Each shot:[/b]

head on shot

http://i14.photobucket.com/albums/a316/maverike_prime/Warhammer/head-on.jpg

The Camera is looking directly at the model and the model is facing right toward the camera.

Left Side shot

http://i14.photobucket.com/albums/a316/maverike_prime/Warhammer/left-side.jpg

The Camera is looking directly at the model and the model is facing To the left edge of the frame. This helps give the judges a sense of the depth of the model. What may look like a flowing cloak from the front, could be shown to be a flat panel from the side

Back shot

http://i14.photobucket.com/albums/a316/maverike_prime/Warhammer/back-shot.jpg

The Camera is looking directly at the model and the model is facing directly away from the camera.

Right Side

http://i14.photobucket.com/albums/a316/maverike_prime/Warhammer/right-side.jpg

The Camera is looking directly at the model and the model is facing To the right edge of the frame. This helps give the judges a sense of the depth of the model. What may look like a flowing cloak from the front, could be shown to be a flat panel from the side.

3-view

http://i14.photobucket.com/albums/a316/maverike_prime/Warhammer/3-view.jpg

This is the "Damn! Does this guy look hawt!" shot. It also helps give the judges a better sense of the model as a whole.

 

Where do I send the pictures?

On this forum. Submit a post in this thread.

 

What about painting?

As already stated, this is a Conversion contest. Not a Golden Daemon or Golden Bolter. You will receive no extra credit for a good paint job. In truth, painting your conversion before we announce the winners will probably hurt your chances at winning as painting tends to hides a conversion.

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I've got the model done, but the story is coming later. I went with a tru-scale Chosen Aspiring Champion wielding a giant axe that counts-as a Power Fist. One day he will probably be a Khornate Chaos Lord, but for now he's still in the Elites category.

 

I present the photographs of Arminius the Butcher, Chosen of Khorne:

 

http://i78.photobucket.com/albums/j91/montismo/arminius-001.jpg

 

http://i78.photobucket.com/albums/j91/montismo/arminius-002.jpg

 

http://i78.photobucket.com/albums/j91/montismo/arminius-003.jpg

 

http://i78.photobucket.com/albums/j91/montismo/arminius-004.jpg

 

http://i78.photobucket.com/albums/j91/montismo/arminius-005.jpg

 

Will work on his story soon...

 

EDIT: Oh Hell, I thought I had until 12 midnight, not 12 noon...

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Bwahahaha! I'm totally doing this!

 

In official speak, I accept the challenge ^_^

 

EDIT#1 -

 

Fluff - Lords of Shadow Veteran sergeant Athros Rotire

 

A rising star among the Lords of Shadow, Arthros is one of the youngest veterans at a mere 132 years of age and is already leading his own squad in the vaunted Third Company. While his tactical skill are little above average among his peers and he is still learning many strategies of command from his more experienced brothers of the First, his true skills lie in his sheer charisma and ability to speak as one forgiven by the Emperor. Quiet and reserved, he is often found among his squadmates, simply listening to their debates and arguments, until he deems the time is right. When he finally begins to speak to his brothers, it has been observed that all of them listen attentively and treat him with great respect. Already, the closeness of those directly under his command is unrivalled in the chapter, and all of them have willingly faced impossible odds to save each other's lives. Indeed, since Arthros became their squad leader not a single marine has been lost, while their effeciency has grown and became a source of pride of the Third Company.

 

If there is but one flaw that Arthros is said to have it is that he cares too deeply for his brothers, and is unwilling to let them be sacrificed. On the field of battle, the sergeant is extremely cautious for any traps and threats to his squad, and while the individuals under him have each grown in effectiveness immensely for his leadership the squad as a whole is not nearly as bold and powerful as the others.

 

For such reasons, the captains and the chapter council are considering that he become a chaplain, representing the Redemptionists of the First Company. Here, they believe, Arthros will be able to lead as few others can, while not hindering the battle-field prowess of the Lords of Shadow.

 

EDIT2 - you know what's really frustrating? Having mini built three weeks ago and not being able to get the pictures onto your lap-top... ^_^

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@TDA: Wasn't it your character in "the Battle of Antioch" that whacked my Inquisitor? Dude GAME ON!!! ^_^

 

Not that I'd hold a grudge or anything. lol

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EDITED 10 DEC 11

Brother Sgt. Killian had been selected to fight within the Death Watch only a few galactic standard months ago, and it seemed he may not live to return to his chapter. The Ork warboss had proven strangely tenacious for one of his xeno breed, predicting the movements of the Death Watch kill team that had come to St. Jude to eliminate him. Killian checked the power cell on his plasma pistol, noting that he had only two shots remaining. Peeking his head from behind the pillar were he stood, Killian marked where his fellow death watch companions had taken up cover, running low on ammo and pressured by their targets minions it seemed that they would soon be unable to complete the task assigned them.

Diving from cover to cover as large caliber rounds tried in vain to hit him, Sigurd of the Space Wolfs chapter stopped behind the pillar that was Killian's fortress. " If we're are going to sit on are asses waiting for the great hunt, we may as well do a little more fighting rather than let the xenos continue to make sport of us." The comment from Sigurd was not delivered with any kind of hate or anger, rather pent up aggression and the wish to bring his axe to bare. Killian Smiled behind his helmet. Sigurd and Killian had both bonded quickly during their time together in the Death Watch and a competitive rivalry had kept the two extremely busy on St. Jude.

Looking at the Warboss and his personal guard stomping towards what remained of the kill team, Killian nodded towards them, "I think that Ork just might agree with you Son of Russ, and I believe he has brought company." A large fanged grin spread over what was left of Sigurd's face as he readied his frost blade. " try to keep up Son of Sanguine, I know it's hard for you to fight on the ground", Killian thumbed the power node on his force halberd "I need no jump pack when I have your hot air to keep me aloft brother", with that Killian sent three clicks through the squads VOCs and all hell broke loose.

The way the ork warboss stormed through the city ruins, it seemed that he did not expect the remaining four members of the kill team to put up much of a fight after losing six of their members. Brother Abraxas, of the Salamanders, made him regret underestimating them, raising himself from cover he outright killed the last of the Nobz guarding the war boss with his multi-melta. Before the warboss or any of the orks with him could react, Draco of the Ultramarines let loose with his heavy bolter. The bolt rounds smashed through the orks slowing their charge to a halt. The warboss, seeing there was some fight left, stomped forward and roared a challenge, in response Killian and Sigurd charged from their cover each of their chapter's battle cries in their throats.

Sigurd's frost blade found its mark in the joint of the warboss' armor, tearing plates of steel free; the warboss reeled back and smashed a power claw into Sigurd's chest for his trouble. The Space Wolf fell unconscious, his frostblade still held tightly in his grip. As the warboss was distracted with Sigurd, Killian climbed the warboss' armored back and stabbed down with his force halberd. The warboss moved at the last second, the aimed shot barley missed its mark, carving a deep gash along the side of his head. " youz mezed up my face stinkin hummi! Know your going to pay!" the orks hand moved with speed surprising for his size and gripped the heft of the force halberd, snapping it in two. Killian used the momentum and rolled off the warboss' armored back landing on his feet, with one fluid motion drawing his plasma pistol and combat knife. The warboss laughed as blood spurted from the wound. "You gotz lotz o'gutz humi! Im gonn'a gut'ya and see youz insides bitz!" as the war boss power claws swung down towards Killian he prepared to meet his death, but the blow never landed. Sigurd had thrown himself between the two, the war bosses claw impaling him.

Laughing, the war boss removed his claw from the Space Wolf's chest, letting Sigurd slip to his knees. Sigurd looked at Killian, coughing up blood, "make it count brother." With his last breath, Siguard threw the frost blade too his battle brother. Dropping his combat knife, Killian snatched the ancient weapon from mid air, twisting as he did so meeting the warboss head on. The warboss aimed a claw strike at Killian's head which he side-stepped and swung the blade with all his strength at the powered limb, cutting clean through and leaving a blood stump in its wake. Killian let the momentum of his blow carry him to the warboss' right side where he cut deep into the knee joint that Sigurd had damaged. The warboss went to his knee letting out a howl of pain and stared directly at the Crimson Lance Space Marine. "Stinking Hummi! Youz cantz kill me!" Killan raised the plasma pistol and pointed between the warboss' eyes "For the Emperor" the plasma pistol bucked twice as the last two remaining shots fired and melted the warbosses head with super heated gas.

The warbosses body dropped, his Nobz and Boyz lying in piles. Killan stood over his foe, the frost blade held tightly in his hand, and observed the now silent battle field. Looking to his battle brothers Killian nodded to Brother Abraxas as he stepped over to Brother Draco and helped the Ultramarine from under the pile of corpses he was trapped in. Turning to Sigurd, Killian walked to his fallen battle brother's body and knelt down. Killan would bare Sigurd's body and weapon back to their chapter so that his sacrifice could be honored. Sigurd's battles had ended but For Brother Sergeant Killan, it had only just begun....

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im will be off for Xmas leave. GOOD LUCK BATTLE BROTHERS!!!!

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I'm in!!!

:blink:

++ Classified Document ++

++ Access Level: Imperator ++

+Adeptus Astartes+

+Veteran Sergeant Vincentus+

Name: Vincentus (Other names unkown)

Age: 321

Status: Alive and Loyal

Chapter: Marines Malevolent

Crusade: 5th

Rank: Veteran Sergeant

Cases of Significance: Battle of Heron, Fall of Temus, Battle for Requin, Purging of The Sons of Malice (Adeptus Astartes Chapter, excommunicate).

Battle of Heron: Heron, a planet on the Eastern Fringe, was attacked by Tyranids on 172.M41. The Marines Malevolent 5th Crusade was in the sector and met the Tyranids in battle. The Imperials won the battle after suffering heavy loses, the majority of the PDF and Imperial Guard stationed on the planet were destroyed in the ensuing fight when the Tyranids made landfall. The Marines Malevolent did little to save the planets populace and, instead, focused on eliminating the xenos threat no matter the cost.Vincentus led His Vanguard Squad in a costly assault against a Hive tyrant cutting the link to the hive mind helping in the destuction of the xenos.The loses the Marines Malevolent suffered in those months of fighting are unknown due to the nature of the Chapter. They left the system shortly after it was declared clean of the xenos threat.

Fall of Temus: Temus was also a planet on the Eastern Fringe and was invaded by the Necrons. The Marines Malevolent made planetfall and fought the Necrons for several weeks before leaving the planet to it’s doom. During the short fight, before the Malevolents left, Veteran Sergeant Vincentus showed great bravery in the face of extreme odds,taking on and destroying a Necron Lord before falling to the Necron lords preatorian guard. Vincentus was gravely injured and was recovered by His squad. The Astartes realised the Necrons army was unstoppable and withdrew from the planet leaving the survivors to the Xenos’ mercy.The planet was then Fire bombed to rid the xeno threat. The Marines Malevolent reported losses but no specific figures were obtained.

Battle for Requin: Information witheld from the Marines Malevolent,only information acquired is reports of Veteran Sergeant Vincentus extreme bravery in saving workers in an armoury. Armoury suspected ransacked but as of yet no evidence to this. Orks reported on planet but wiped out by the Malevolents.

Sons of Malice: Marines Malevolent commended in the purging of the chaos scum. Vincentus apparently wishes to concentrate on the purging and champions this at every oppurtunity.

++ Request that Veteran Sergeant Vincentus be seconded to my Deathwatch squad as a matter of importance as I have been requested by Lord Inquisitor Dulzake to intercept the Sons of malice at secret designation. Brother Captain Quiron Octavius of the Deathwatch ++

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:lol:

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Game on!!!!! Challange accepted. This is just the inspiration to get my TS Dark Angels rolling again.

FINAL EDIT 1-1-12 [Finished the story]

I present to you,

Vet Sgt Mikael of the 1st Legion Astartes

========================================================================================

They had come to this world to bring it's people back into the fold, under the Emperor of Mankind’s rule, this new Imperium.

The world's inhabitants had complied without incident or concern, the Orks, however, did not.

As Veteran Sargent Mikael strode though the jungle, a stray leaf grazed his cheek, drawing blood, he could feel his body react

to the paralytic venom of the plant. Not like home, he mused, not that he really knew. His faint childhood memories of far distant

Terra and his parents recreation of the long dead jungle of Amazonia were, suddenly, he was pulled from his thoughts as he caught

a glimmer of movement in the corner of his eye, he lurched back as the crude axe flew by his face, taking several whiskers from his

moustache. Instinctively reaching for the axe, he caught it by the very end of it's shaft, and sent it back from whence it came in one

fluid motion. He was rewarded with a bestial roar as a massive ork, easily outweighing him, charged from it's concealment within the

forrest, the axe lodged in the bone of one of it's massive shoulders.

Of all the orks he had faced, these were a breed of their own. They were primitive, with only basic black-powder weapons, mostly

relying on crudely fashioned close quarter weaponry. They made up for the lack of technology with an excellent guerrilla-style warfare,

ambushes, faints, camouflage, they had stalled the Imperial Armies advance in it's tracks. Now we, the first legion, the Emperors

chosen are to end these creatures. All of this he thought as he raised his bolter, loosing of a short burst before the ork's massive form

collided with his own. Mikael was knocked from his feet, landing hard against a tree, several feet from the ork. Struggeling to stand in

his new mark III battle plate, he raised his bolter to fire at the charging ork again, only to hear the dull click of a misfire, it must have

been damaged against the tree. With a mild shrug that seemed out of place in this combat, he activated his chainblade bayonet and

charged into combat.

Taking the ork by surprise with his sudden charge, Mikael dove into a roll, lashing out and severing one of the creatures legs at the knee.

As Mikael regained his feet, he drew his powersword slowly and paced back to the ork as it shouted at him in what could only be obscenities

in it's gutteral language. Severing the beasts head, Mikael spoke to the dead ork,"This our world now".

========================================================================================

FRONT

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RIGHT

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BACK

gallery_48988_6010_302250.jpg

LEFT

gallery_48988_6010_673948.jpg

3 VIEW

gallery_48988_6010_767320.jpg

Cheers,

Jono

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The story of Skena, Chosen Aspiring Champion of Khorne (not a Skull Champion). Story is about 1.5 pages, as stated.

 

 

 

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My Lord Inquisitor,

 

What follows are my personal experiences of the interrogation of the daemon Phrikk’ell’oukh, formerly Sanctioned Psyker Mendell, who now serves as host to the daemon. While I will attempt to retell my experiences with the utmost accuracy, I must confess to having felt a profound discomfort in the presence of the creature, which might have affected my memory.

 

Upon entering the interrogation chamber, I saw what evil corruption a daemon could really produce in a psyker. Mendell had changed completely, so sunken were his eyes, without lids to close them, and so pale his skin, that I barely recognized him, and as I approached the chained creature, I felt a chill breeze emanating from the bound form, slumped against the wall, in the dark corner. When he spoke it was with an ageless whisper which came, somehow, from within me. He was, however, compliant to my questioning. Enemy numbers and positions were forthcoming; Mendell was proving to be a useful host, and controlling the daemon well. It was however, upon the subject of identification of the enemy that Mendell started struggling. As I pushed for information on enemy command and identity, the creature within Mendell shrunk away, unwilling and irate. I brought in two combat servitors to stand guard, lest the creature try and attack, and looked back at the daemonhost. To my shock and horror, my Lord, the creature, Mendell, they transformed, in front of my eyes. The temperature dropped again, and the creature, it stood up as black feathers sprouted from its back and looked into my eyes over a sharp, organic beak. Suddenly, it spoke.

 

I will tell you about the enemy you face, for it is a tale worth telling.

 

I shuddered again at its whispered speech, and I replied.

 

“You will tell me the identity of the renegades we face, and its leader.”

 

Oh, more important is his lieutenant. Bal’Kolrr is unpure Loyalist geneseed but his Chosen, Skena, is of more ancient descent.

 

My Lord, it is my duty to inform you that we face a powerful enemy, a son of Angron, of the World Eaters Legion. As a personal bodyguard to the leader of the Knights of Blood, he intends to usurp Bal’Kolrr and take control. My Lord, if what the daemon described is true, then we face a much more dangerous foe than we thought. I will recount now, to the best of my memory, the history of Skena the Restrained, Wrecking Ball of Ibidira, Chosen of Khorne.

 

He served, according to the daemonhost, as Chaplain in the World Eaters Legion before the Horus Heresy. Several times it snorted; at least that was my impression, as it described the legion’s lust for blood and berserker ways. Skena, however, was different and employed more rational tactics, earning him the epithet ‘Skena the Restrained,’ as well as scorn from the rest of the legion and ignoble positions in battle. In the opening stages of the Horus Heresy, Skena and his men were sent into a trap designed to weed out loyalists in the rebelling legions. After virus bombing the planet, came ‘the transformation’, which the creature would speak little of. All he would divulge was that Skena was found with his slaughtered squad around him, offering eight heads to the glory of the World Eaters. Here it paused to chuckle,

 

Skena knows how to stay alive, this puts him apart from his brothers, makes him dangerous. He is just as brutal and bloodthirsty as the rest of them, but much more cunning.

 

The daemon spoke of Khorne’s sacred number, eight, and smiled as it told of the beginning of Skena’s patronage. He was re-inducted as a World Eater, but forced to wear a permanent reminder of his oath: a flayed skin cloak of his eight former squadmembers. He served loyally but at the Battle of Skalathrax he once more proved his self-preservation and killed competitors, gathering loyal minions about him, which he later formed into a pirating fleet in the Badab Sector. I have cross-referenced with extensive history of the sector, and records do speak of a small World Eaters force operating for a few decades. During the Ibidira campaign, he was hired to fight for the Knights of Blood, and slayed Cannoness Kefira, later using her arm and pieces of the battlefield to fashion his two weapons, Skullgash and Demolisher, a powerblade, and flail, respectively. After the campaign was over, the creature mentioned a ‘great trick’ that Skena used. It looked gleeful as it laid forth Skena’s plans. He had once more been able to avoid death by pledging his loyalty to Bal’Kolrr the Blackened, Lord of the Knights of Blood. Now however, Khorne has a champion worthy of his name in Skena, who is only biding his time before taking charge. Under almost ten thousand years of Khorne’s patronage, Skena has great power within his grasp.

 

My Lord Inquisitor, as I have stated before, the accuracy of this account is questionable, though from what little historical references I could find, I have been able to verify some of the claims made by the daemon Phrikk’ell’oukh. Also, I cannot explain it Lord, but the creature seemed sincere, if very amused at the story. The Changer of the Ways wishes us to defeat this enemy…

 

Your loyal servant,

 

Scribe Obrej

 

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http://i1199.photobucket.com/albums/aa480/GooseElMoose/IMG_5834.jpg

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Sergeant Decan, Flesh Eaters 3rd Company, 5th Squad.

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The red haze lifted, and Decan surveyed the scene of carnage that the command room of the bunker had become. The pieces of fully 70 militia men lay strewn across the area; entrails here, limbs there and a severed head caught his attention for the look of sheer terror it bore. Quite a massacre; this world had paid dearly for turning its face from the Emperor’s devine light. With a hiss, he removed his helm. The smell of freshly spilt blood filled his nostrels and Decan smiled to himself as he licked his fangs. Yes, at the hands of the Flesh Eaters strike force "Angel's Deliverance", this world has paid a high price indeed.

 

As his irisless eyes adjusted to the darkness not to dissimilar to his homeworld, and Decan felt the cold air on his face and his freshly shaven head. An unseen wind fluttered gently at his purity seals. He could see brother Gorlak stooped over the broken form of the Renegade Militia Captain. Nowhere to be seen, even still, were the traitoress Black Legionnaires. “Hardly a trophy worth keeping Brother” he scoffed at Gorlack. Gorlack looked up from his prey with a wry, blood soaked smile accross his own helmetless face, and carried on flaying the skin from the so called ‘Captain’s’ skull. Decan was a large Astartes and this was made even more apparent as he stood over Gorlack.

“We must take what little we can from this Emperor forsaken planet” came the Gorlacks reply.

“Not much sport” said Decan “but our duty never the less”

 

A noise in the centre of the room broke off the conversation. In a split second Sgt Decan was across, pinning the loyalist soldier against the opposite wall with his powerfist, a good two feet from the floor. “My lord…please…” The boy, no older than 20 summers, could not look him in the eyes. Decan moved his face right up to the boys. “Tell me soldier” Decan’s voice was a low growl “Why should I let you live?” The boy soiled himself as he tried to reply. Finally he managed to look the Astartes in his cold eyes. His answer could hardly be heard over the thrumming of the sergeant’s power armour; “Traitor…..”

 

The red thirst rose up through Decan again as he ripped the soldiers throat out with his fangs. He threw his head back as arterial blood sprayed high. For a moment Decan felt nothing but rage as the crimson rained down on him. And then he was back again. A beep on his internal vox that he couldn’t hear due to the removal of his helm. As Decan looked back to the rest of the squad he heard an audible snap as he applied greater pressure with his oversized gauntleted fist to the boys prone frame and let him drop.“Sergeant Decan” Brother Lorcan inclined his head to his officer “The Emperor be damned Traitor Legion have been spotted escaping into the catacombs below this bunker” “Very well” Decan replied as locked his helm back in place “then let us bring His retribution on the Arch Traitors minions” “For the Emperor!” his squad replied in unison, gunning their chainswords.

 

As the squad stomped out of the command room Sergeant Decan glanced back at the scene. Collateral damage; renegade and loyalist militia as one massacre. No survivors. The Chapters’, not least his own, excesses apparent again. He shook his head. Now to the task in hand, time to go hunting. Hunting for ‘real’ prey.

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Right-o, thats the fluff, onto the model ;) Bare in mind the back pack and powerfist are both magnetized, Ork skull used as a trophy because my regular opponent has just finished a Deathskullz army and there is nothing like a bit of baiting! Pictures aren't very clear but daylight time is short, and my hours are long lol. Sgt. Decan himself:-

 

http://i256.photobucket.com/albums/hh190/MidnightRunner81/f1.jpg

 

http://i256.photobucket.com/albums/hh190/MidnightRunner81/r2.jpg

 

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http://i256.photobucket.com/albums/hh190/MidnightRunner81/t1.jpg

 

Good luck to everybody else :D

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Caedus was a whirlwind of destruction.

Caedus was a savage beast hell-bent on the destruction of the Imperium.

Caedus was covered in the blood and entrails of his enemies.

Caedus was….bored.

His twin chainswords carved a path of bloody destruction through the squad of Imperial Guardsmen. Caedus could feel their fear, their terror, even their anger.

Their feelings were what drove him on; it was his gift, his curse, from his god Slaanesh. After hacking his way through an untold number of faces and bodies, Caedus was bored;

their feelings of terror no longer sustaining his fury. He decided to let the last few guardsmen go. There was no point anymore. For what seemed like the millionth time since their

retreat from Terra so long ago, Caedus felt like there was no point to fighting the Long War. Deep down, he knew it was his damnable gift; without the stimulation of his enemies’ fear,

he had nothing to go on.

Long ago, he discovered that his enemies’ fear wasn’t enough; their rage was the greatest emotion to feed on. That was why he armored himself the way he did.

Wearing the armor of his fallen enemies brought their comrades’ rage to the surface. His greatest moment was when the Khornate fool insulted him. The Blood God’s champion

had a rage that was insatiable; Caedus almost didn’t want to kill him. He did. The battle had been titanic; the Khorne Champion’s rage fuelling his own. The chainsword

Caedus wielded in his right hand was fashioned from the bones of the foolish champion, his left shoulderpad a trophy from the fight.

As he stood contemplating the battle raging around him, Caedus saw a worthy opponent; one of the lap-dog servants of the Emperor, a Space Marine. The loyalist saw him,

Caedus could feel his eyes scouring his armor, seeing the mock purity seals listed with the names of his slain enemies, the chestplate of a fallen loyalist, the chainsword ripped from

the still warm hands of a dying Blood Angel. The loyalist dropped his bolter and unsheathed his own sword. His rage was delicious. For what seemed like the millionth time since their

retreat from Terra so long ago, Cadeus felt a sense of purpose, a sense of belonging in the universe.

Cadeus smiled.

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