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++Marines Malevolent/Knights Vermilion++UPDATE: Ironclad


Monstra Sumus

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                                                                       http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N-FnZheoTIc

 

 

 

The clang echoed around the silence inside the bowels of the Cestus Vacuo, the ship resembling some sleeping leviathan as it drifted above the surface of Kolstrom V, occasionally waking from its slumber to spit bright beams of incandescent death planet side or receive transports, only to disgorge them at a later time. This time, however, it had been abruptly awoken by another approaching vessel, one from out of the sub system. The leviathan had blinked into rapidity, yawning wide its gun portals and swinging to bear on this intruder. The mighty and venerable cruiser that the Cestus Vacuo was became shrouded in darkness, swallowed in the void blocking shape that descended upon it. Dwarfed, is an appropriate term. The winged thunder bolt emblazoned upon the gargantuan vessel denoted it of the same lineage as the first, it was however much older, impossibly bigger and much more a predator of the deep black than even the formidable Vacuo. The Battle Barge, His Right Hand, enveloped the smaller craft in it's bowels, latching on to it, feeding from it. 

 

Centurion Tyrax felt the bones of his ship shudder as the procedure had been completed. He hadn't believed the astropathic message they had received. He'd dismissed it in relation to him and his actions and forwarded it to the front, to the rest of the 3rd engaged with the Lugganath Craftworld in the next system. So when His Right Hand trans-located in system, he had turned his guns to face the larger warship. Even stood here, at the vast docking portal on the upper deck of his venerable craft, he still did not believe it. The veterans of the Crusade lined the wide, incense ridden corridor, black helms facing forward, red eye lenses glowing in the gloom. Tyrax held his crested helm beneath one arm, his slate grey eyes hard. The sounds receded, replaced by a hissing of ozone, then the spiral entrance before him shot back, revealing the largest creature he'd ever laid eyes upon. If he didn't have such control over himself, he'd imagined he would have stepped back in restrained fear. 

 

Striding, as if from the abyss of terror itself, came Commodus, High Puritan of the Marines Malevolent. The Puritan was clad in ancient tactical dreadnought armour, adorned with chains and icon, a relic from the beginning of the Chapter. Commodus came to a halt before the commander of this theater of war, staring down at him through smoldering red lenses. The Puritans helm was carved in the visage of a deaths head, wrought from adamantium and glowing with a suffused ember radiance. Almost invisible behind the bulk of their master, were two yellow clad serfs, each baring a massive hammer in their cybernetic arms, a third bore a loft a shield emblazoned with a winged thunder bolt, transfixed with a skull. The Puritan order were part of the Reculsiarch office, but operating with a wider power net within the internal ranks of the Marines Malevolent. The Puritans cared not for the welfare of the rank and file, that was the realm of the Chaplain order, no, the Puritan order concerned itself with the intentions of the command echelon, scrutinizing the Centurions and Legates in their duties. It seemed Tyrax had been lax in his attention to this particular campaign. The Puritans were given sanction to remove a commander lacking in progression from over all command of an army, by force if necessary. 

 

"A suitable welcome, Centurion."

 

Tyrax suppressed a frown, his service studs dipping slightly. 

 

"I had not expected to receive you, High Puritan Commodus."

 

Commodus strode forward once more, Tyrax falling into step beside him. The veterans of this crusade snapped the sign of the Aquila over their chests. Then came the thunder of giants, one by one, Commodus' honour guard followed behind. Decimator Triarii, deployed in only the most dire of circumstance. These Marines were utterly loyal to the Puritan cause, clad in the most revered suits of Tactical Dreadnought Armour and carrying heavy caliber weapons, these men were butchers. A potent force. Eleven suits of Terminator armour were now at the front of the Crusade expansion, brought directly to Tyrax's redirected objectives. He didn't know whether to be resolute in reinforcements or wary that they were here to prevent a coup if Commodus relinquished his command. 

 

"You were notified. I am here to observe and decide."

 

Tyrax stopped, rooting himself firmly to the decking. The serfs baring Commudus' weapons scattered as the Triarii hastened to halt. 

 

"Observe and decide upon what, exactly? Forgive my lack of protocol but I see no need for the strong arm of the Puritan order to be present here. This campaign is in order."

 

The High Puritan turned his bulk in the corridor, swamping it with his form. His voice became a growl, distorted by his vox amplification.

 

"That is precisely why I am here, protocol. This engagement has become a campaign, your words. This vessel and the arms it has brought to bear should never have been diverted to this pissant system, they should be driving a hammer blow needed against the xenos filth in the Helican sub-sector. You have denied your brothers vital aid in pursuit of your own goals."

 

Tyrax made to speak, but Commodus cut him off with a raised hand, one that Tyrax half expected to strike him.

 

"Your own hyper inflated opinion of self worth has corrupted your vision to the greater purpose of this Crusade. You, brother, have decided that you know better than Crusade Head Quarters, that you, in all your wisdom, have the right and authority to turn away the aid of the Emperor and bestow it upon any one you see fit to. This system is a hot bed of rebellion and ruinous invasion, there are others who could have dealt with it. We have other concerns. You appraised us of the tactical advantage of securing the particular Hive-Forge you are currently defending, but we are now embroiled in a war on two fronts. Not only are we trying to close our iron grip on the fluidity of the Eldar filth, you have now thrown the gauntlet to traitors and daemons. Your actions have condemned this Crusade to fail on one front, you will cost this Chapter a Victory. Only the pure, Centurion, can stand by His right side. I am here to judge whether you will be pure enough to take your place."

 

Then he turned, gazing, as if through the kilometer of steel and titanium, at the planet below. 

 

"I am here to eat a God." .

 

I present the work in progress so far of Commodus, High Puritan of the Marines Malevolent, Slayer of Tho'kar the Undying, the Beast of Kolstrom. 

 

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Just waiting on the second shoulder pad and some teeny tiny magnets as he's tac'd together in those photos. I need to green-stuff some cabling under his shoulder too to fill a gap. Fluff wise he's not a chaplain, rather a purity officer, sent to make sure the other officers of the army don't become too complacent, if they are, he is authorized to remove their command by force and take over the operations. On the table he's going to be a Chapter Master in TDA with 2 Thunder Hammers or a Hammer and the Shield Eternal.

 

What do you think so far? 

 

Cheers,

BT

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'High Puritan' is a good title. And he looks suitably menacing and sinister for someone who smashes the skulls of the commanders in his own Chapter.

 

I found him, discarded and arm-less in one of my bitz boxes and lamented not using him, so figured a way to slot him into the 'orrible world I have my guys live in. It seemed appropriate! 

 

 Fear Factor I watch that show! Oh wait its a band! Great Job on Commodus,He loooks like a Blood thirsty basterd!!.

 

Haha, thanks man, I hope he will be! 

 

Love that Termie Chaplain mate ... Sterling work indeed!

 

Thanks fella, still a bit more to do when my bitz turn up. 

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Just have to say that whilst this was a good log to begin with, the quality has ramped dramatically upwards with the last few entries. That Chaplain is badass itself, and I love the poor melta victim. Have you watched Terminator 2 recently by any chance? Reminds me so much of the shapeshifter Terminator's wounds in the final battle...

 

Keep it coming man, really great stuff.

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Finally getting over here <catches breath>

 

I have to thank you for removing the sniveling image I had in my head when I heard the name "Commodus" (i.e. from Gladiator) and giving the name a sense of menace. Well done.

 

That chaplain model has always been one of my favorites and he has a place of honor leading my assault termies.

 

The only question I have is on the top of the left most t-hammer. Is that a mold line or a flash from the camera across the top? If it's one of those nasty lines, considering how much you've put into this guy, you might consider fixing that.

 

Otherwise, he's a nasty bit of kit. :)

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oooooooohhhhh, that is a good idea for a chaplain!!! very fitting indeed!!!

maybe my scythes need more than one chaplain to balance more than one captain.......

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Well they are there to keep the Marines doubts in check...:p

Just have to say that whilst this was a good log to begin with, the quality has ramped dramatically upwards with the last few entries. That Chaplain is badass itself, and I love the poor melta victim. Have you watched Terminator 2 recently by any chance? Reminds me so much of the shapeshifter Terminator's wounds in the final battle...

Keep it coming man, really great stuff.

Thanks man! I'm slowly coming out of my shell and trying new techniques and methods apart from base, layer, wash. The melta-dude is reminiscent of the T-movie, totally subconscious.

Finally getting over here <catches breath>

I have to thank you for removing the sniveling image I had in my head when I heard the name "Commodus" (i.e. from Gladiator) and giving the name a sense of menace. Well done.

That chaplain model has always been one of my favorites and he has a place of honor leading my assault termies.

The only question I have is on the top of the left most t-hammer. Is that a mold line or a flash from the camera across the top? If it's one of those nasty lines, considering how much you've put into this guy, you might consider fixing that.

Otherwise, he's a nasty bit of kit. smile.png

I figured the name needed some weight attached to it!

It is a bloody mold line, I got so disheartened when I saw I'd missed it that I just kind of ignored it. dry.png I have a habit of just leaving them once I've already started painting as they are usually on bits of yellow that I've missed. Although, I'll break that habit and rub that little sod right off the hammer and re-paint. I'm getting more confident with exploring things. I have a squad of Hammernators on the way and I'm going to paint them as Excoriators, it'll give me a chance to practice battle damage.

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The explosion toppled the drop transport behind them detonating the residual promethium inside the fuel tanks, shards of atmosphere burnt metal scythed out, embedding deep into flesh, dirt and ceramite. Sergeant Mithras pulled himself free of the sucking mud, cursing into his vox as he peeled his bloody face from the inside of his helmet display. He flexed the wide mechanical fingers of his power glove and angled his body forward. 

 

++Mithras, cone of fire, forty five degrees, we know what's coming.++

 

He received a chime of acknowledgement from his squad manning the trench. The 'trench' was a battered dyke in the clay field outside the hive city that had become the new focus point for the World Eater push. The Malevolents were fighting on two fronts, holding the ruined gates to the cities first habitation ring while diverting aid to this new attack. Their allies venerable war machines were holding a pitched battle with warped Leman Russ and defiled battle walkers, the help to the Death Strike hold came in the form of snipers and Assault marines. Not what he'd have wanted but he wasn't about to complain. The World Eaters command was splintered. It seemed the warlord of this invasion was content to sit upon his dais of bone and blood and let his champions take turns assaulting the walls, it seemed impractical but they had the weight of bodies to commit. This last one, Tho'kar was a monstrous brute but with some bestial intelligence, like the hyena that knows to go for the flank instead of attack the lions face. 

 

Berserkers. He could hear their howling and the splash of their feet in the puddles of bloody mud. The first crimson and bronze figure came barreling over the mound of the dead before them, parting the haze of the battle field with whirring chain blades and roaring curses. Hammon's heavy bolter pummeled the figure to pieces, small explosions rending the charging brute to scraps of armour splintered meat. Then the smog rolled clear and the rest of them came, hammering forward. Mithras scanned once, outnumbered eight to one. They couldn't kill them all, but he'd sell his life to give the Marines inside the city time to move appropriate response teams to the walls. The screaming of the enemy was cut through by the whine of jump packs and their allies slammed home among the charge, tangling the Berserkers in a rolling fight. Mithras worked his storm bolter left and right, the bark of his squad sending death into the wave of red. Still it wasn't enough, even the hardy assault Marines of the Malevolents were falling under the warp induced strength of the Khornate dogs. 

 

Mithras was about to declare blades be drawn when a sudden silence suppressed the battle field. The air felt unbearably heavy for a split second, his environmental readouts buzzing into the red line, then the sonic boom knocked the first set of combatants flat. Five smoking craters hissed into existence, lighting strikes receding from their centers. Rising up on the whine of servos and the crackle of force shields were giants of bone and lightning. The first brute to charge the newcomers died in a controlled explosion as the stationary warrior impacted his hammer into the enemies chest. The sound was like a thunder god splitting a mountain. The behemoths in tactical dreadnought armour turned into the fray, slaughtering the enemy with powerful, yet methodical smashes of their hammers. Mithras had the odd mental conjuring of a carpenter hammering nails. 

 

A new chime alerted him of an incoming vox, wide band, Imperial signature, Astartes. He acknowledged and a voice cut through with heavy breathing rattled around inside his ear. 

 

++This is Veteran-Whip Erioch, Excoriators, dropping in to even things up a bit. Today is a fine day to die, brothers!++

 

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So, finally sorted out my Hammernators, they'll be of the Excoriators and give me a chance to try my hand at battle damage in quantity. 

Also, the other shoulder for the High Puritan showed up today, just waiting on some magnets and green stuff and I can finish him off. 

 

Cheers, 

BT

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Got bored and needed something to push me through my hangover. So I built some Excoriator scouts with locator beacon to either run as a single squad or tack onto my 5 sniper squad to provide wounds. 

 

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Cheers, 

 

BT

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Nice scouts mate, nice way to break up the power armour grind smile.png I just wish GW or even forgeworld would update the models!

They so desperately need an update. I may paint this lot up like the Waltons considering they all look the bloomin' same.

Cool shotguns thumbsup.gif !!! I had mine out.

Thanks brother, haven't got my own, but I've fired a few.

Solid work BT! Have to say I enjoyed the story line of Commodus and the Excoriator treminators. Keep it up brother!

Thank you! I try to put little tid bits here and there to give a more organic feel to my army. Explain the posing and feel behind the models.

So, the Scouts didn't satisfy my build needs for today so I figured what Malevolent army is gonna be complete without some hatred fueled Lightning Claws?

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Cheers,

BT

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So having had a brief bout of hobby hatred I decided my Centurion (Captain) just wasn't imposing enough or even fit with the aesthetic of the rest of the forces. So some tinkering, paint stripping and a rebuild later, the head of this snake is at the current state. 

 

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Tomorrow's job is pauldrons, bolter and scabbard. 

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Got to a comfortable stage with my Centurion re-fit. I run the Primarchs Wrath almost every time I play so that's what he's modeled with. The sword is multipurpose in it's scabbard, can resemble any of the artifacts or a power sword/relic blade. 

 

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The wargear is a bit eclectic but I like the mash of the different Marks of armour. Gives him a real unique presence among my force of misfits. 

 

Cheers, 

BT

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