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Night Lords 15th Company - In Memoriam...Pg.68

Brother Heinrich
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Brother Heinrich Veteran

Brother Heinrich

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Love him.

 

And very very nice back ground.

 

Jealous.

Thanks man.

 

I wanna see you take on converting Naeroth's chainaxe :happy.:

 

But until then, mini Cpt Semper is looking pretty awesome!

Thanks, may be a while, but like I said he will always have a special place in my heart.

 

win...

 

so much win

 

glad to see that you are doing the samething I have done and include fallen in your elements of Night Lords

Thank you, gotta love renegades.

 

SWEET! Another awesome looking biker and terrific free hand!

 

Is there any reason why the aquila on the side of the wheel is upside down?

Thanks man, the Aquila is actually the head of his Crozius, if you look closely you can see the power generator for it in the 3rd picture.

 

Heinrich, your lightning still looks AWESOME!! So crisp and so clean, clean.

What brush are you using to paint them??

 

Love the new addition man.

Keep fighting the murderous fight!!

 

End of Line

Thanks man, right now I'm just using this:

 

http://i1162.photobucket.com/albums/q532/mv8830/03c6c44b-b0aa-4029-b988-2ce84841bbbb_zps6e2f60a8.jpg

 

I just picked it up from my hobby store because it looked small, it's more of a stopgap measure for the time being. I plan on getting some Raphael Kolinksy brushes since my Kolinsky Sable Series No.7 brushes are on an import freeze thanks to new legislature regarding the importation of anything using parts of an animal (including squirrel hair).

 

Well, that's a great quality stuff there Brother Heinrich - which is the usual state in your thread... :smile.:

 

Barael the Confessor has a great pose and choice of parts and gives the impression of a man with the mission - quite apart from the rest of your force. Very fitting.

 

I really liked the background too - I think you should try a short story!

 

Keep up the great work! :thumbsup:

Thanks Captain, glad you like him. Don't worry about the short story, the fluff I'm writing for Hashec is currently pushing 6 pages and it's only a part one lol.

 

Booyah! I'm the man.

But seriously though, first I thought he was an Imp Fist, crux on the shoulder and mk3 helm and whatnot, but when I looked closer I noticed the helmet :wink:

As always, lovely model, painting and fluff.

Thanks man, it's all about the details.

 

Great stuff Heinrich, loads of character. Really should dip back into the box of Ravenwing i've got somewhere, seems to be another source of great bits.

Thanks, I love Ravenwing bits, especially those corvus hammers, the only thing that sucks is scraping off all the angel iconography on the bikes.

 

Had not expected to see a Fallen, but it's good to see you give one of the most interesting groups of 40k some love. Great fluff and painting for a great model.

 

And I envy your freehand skills. 

Thanks Barabbas, all it takes is practice, never stop pushing yourself, never settle.

 

I really like the turncoat Dark Angel, really inspires me to paint up one of my Word Bearers as one of the Fallen!

Thanks, you should do it, we need to see more fallen here.

 

Great job. Love the backstory. 

Thanks man.

 

Wow, thats nice brother. 

Thanks.

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Honda Venerable Brother

Honda

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Barael the Confessor (Captain Semper), Fallen Dark Angel, currently operating with the 15th Company, VIII Legion.

 

http://i1162.photobucket.com/albums/q532/mv8830/Night%20Lords%20II/1618533_10152641971828761_718334141_n_zps43df8c73.jpg
 
<Looks over at the Captain>
 
I always knew it. I've been saying this for a couple years now. Nobody wears skirts unless it's for a reason.
 
Hah, wait till I tell all the BT guys! <runs off>
 
+++
 
Excellent entry Brother Heinrich. Nicely modeled and an enjoyable read accompanying it.
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Brother Heinrich Veteran

Brother Heinrich

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Wow. Just... wow. Such a nice model, Heinrich. I love the background, and the detailing. Your paint style is superclean and the weathering you do really suits your Night Lords' scheme. Also, the freehand Dark Angels symbol is beautiful. Well done, mate. Love to see more.

Thanks man, more is on the way, rest assured.

 

Clean, crisp, and dangerous looking. Extra credit for making him a Fallen Angel, whom I've always had a soft spot for.

 

Very cool, man. What's next?

Cheers brother, next up is either the Plague Marines or possibly something heavier...

 

They banned the import of paint brushes?

Not all paintbrushes, it's just that the Winsor & Newton Series 7 I guess don't have the correct paperwork to prove no squirrels were harmed in the making of the product (or something along those lines) and thus they aren't importing that particular line of brushes, which sucks because they are fantastic brushes. I got a set used from Guts here on the forum when I still lived in NC 3 years ago and they have only now finally started to fail, like I said AWESOME. However my friend has had good things to say about the Kolinsky Raphael line so I'm gonna order a few of those brushes today.

 

 

Excellent entry Brother Heinrich. Nicely modeled and an enjoyable read accompanying it.

Thanks Honda, always happy to get good reviews on my writing. If I could sit at home in my sweatpants and make decent living doing just that I'd be a happy man.

 

+++++++

 

So quite update everyone, I went head-to-head with my buddy's Grey Knight force yesterday and unfortunately lost by a narrow margin of two points. It was really close and came down to three incredible saves made by his Vindicare Assassin who was stubbornly contesting one of my objectives on turn 5. Despite the loss, the game had some really fun moments, my favorite being this:

 

 

He did his 30" Dreadknight teleport in an attempt take down the Crimson Hand.

 

http://i1162.photobucket.com/albums/q532/mv8830/1920234_10152645268533761_1336559911_n_zpsbe0643ce.jpg

 

 

 

 

I HATE Dreadknights. They, alongside Centurions, represent the absolute worst in new 40k Rules and Models, so I never pass up the chance to smash them like the cancer they are.

 

http://i1162.photobucket.com/albums/q532/mv8830/1489005_10152645268568761_968123416_n_zpscf1f2b58.jpg

 

 

WRONG NEIGHBORHOOD MOTHER- :censored:

 

Suffice to say, that thing didn't make all 8 of it's ivul saves lol. :censored: Dreadknights and the papoose they rode in on.

 

 

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Brother Heinrich Veteran

Brother Heinrich

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Nice! Is that a little World Eater contemptor hiding in the corner? 

It is, that's old Honored Brother Brutus, part of my aborted Pre-Heresy World Eaters force. (Original World Eaters symbols for the freaking win!) He was proxy-ing a chaos contemptor so I could see how they behaved on the table.

 

http://i1162.photobucket.com/albums/q532/mv8830/1904060_10152646959423761_850781098_n_zps41c83037.jpg

 

Please, oh please, tell me my sniper make the kill.....  

Can't be sure, but I'll tell you this much, 6 twin-linked plasmagun shots is definitely what made it happen.

 

Death the the false.......baby björn.

Oh and I'll second what Flint said, is that a borrowed WE contemptor or another project of yours?

See above mate.

 

 

*pic*

you got some cool stuff sir and i love the look of these guys

Thanks man, I'm almost done with them, then it's on to paint if I can find the time.

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Brother Heinrich Veteran

Brother Heinrich

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Terror Reborn

 

+++++++
 
A bright flash… heat… then pain… 
 
There is a sense of falling, of pitching forward into an abyss. Suddenly foul water floods his senses; it is soothing to the burning pain in his face and chest.  He tries to open his eyes and finds he cannot, he is blind.  He tries to open his mouth and call out, but his lips will not part. He is suffocating. 
 
He tries to lift himself free of the water, but his limbs do not respond. Somewhere in a distant part of his mind, he curses his fate. Is this how it ends, facedown in some rotten swamp? His mind rages at the ignominy of such a pathetic death. 
 
As his thoughts grow more sluggish, and the beat of his heart begins to slow, he realizes he cannot hear the voice. The red, magma-deep voice of hatred that has been a part of his conscience for what feels like an eternity has abandoned him. The axe has left him, fleeing the dying warrior’s grasp like rats leaving a sinking ship. The taste of his failure is anathema to a weapon that knows only victory. If the weapon has left him, then he is indeed dying. With this revelation, Hashec Tor, warlord of the Night Lords 15th company, slips into oblivion…
 
+++++++
 
“This is Cor Madrek to all Claws, the Captain is down! Break contact and fall back to your rally points!”
 
The Atramentar champion stood over his captain’s fallen form and blazed away into the dense foliage with his archaic combi-plasma. The thrice-damned Eldar had been waiting for them. They had come under heavy shuriken fire the moment they had teleported in, then it had happened. One of the alien warriors had fired some kind of fusion-beam weapon at his Captain. There had been a brief flash like a newborn sun and when it had cleared, the smoking form of the Captain lay face down in the murky water.
 
Malicoth and Kuul Zhar had now lifted Hashec’s massive form out of the water and were dragging him back towards their egress point. The Eldar fire had slackened off somewhat, no doubt due to the torrent of bolter and plasma fire cutting a swathe through the thick jungle foliage. It was time to affect an exit. Calls for confirmation were coming in from the various Claws, all of them seeking to know if Hashec yet lived. Cor Madrek ignored them; all that mattered was getting the Captain to the Apothecarion aboard the Sins of the Father. 
 
“Red Crow this is Cor Madrek, we need extraction at my location.”
 
Ahzar, the Astartes pilot of the Storm Eagle, Red Crow, replied in a level voice edged with gravel.
 
 “Compliance.”
 
As Red Crow streaked down through thick rain clouds overhead, Cor Madrek’s thoughts turned to the days to come. If Hashec was indeed dead, or if he failed to wake from the cataleptic coma, then the halls of the Slaughter-Class cruiser they called home were about to become deadly indeed. The sons of the VIII Legion had never lacked for ambition and many would seek to take Hashec’s place as head of the 15th Company. Cor Madrek knew Vadrek, the charismatic sergeant of 1st Claw, would likely be chief among them. 
 
As the dark blue Storm Eagle came in to land, he checked the ammunition counter on his retinal display. It read half full. That was good; he was going to need every round if his Captain had any chance of seeing out the night aboard the Sins of the Father. 
 
++++++++
 
Elias looked down at the ruined form in front of him; its thick, corded musculature barely contained by skin as pale as marble. It would be a specimen of statuesque physical perfection, were it not for the dozens of horrific scars and gang tattoos. The newest mark upon its form was by far the worst. The majority of the skin upon its chest and face had been scorched away by some infernal heat. The areas of the figure’s face that hadn’t been scoured down to blackened bone, had twisted and run like wax. Pockets of fat had boiled and burst, leaving weeping craters around the edges of the horrific wound in its chest. The being’s one remaining eye was closed in the grip of a trauma-induced coma.
 
This was not the first time Elias had witnessed injuries such as this. As the Apothecary for the 15th Company, he was well versed in all the manifold horrors that war could visit upon a person’s being. These were the hallmark wounds of a weapon similar in function to Imperial melta weaponry. What he did find surprising however, was the fact that the bio-monitors showed the being was still alive. Elias looked upon the figure’s horrific visage and found it hard to reconcile what he saw, with the narrow, aquiline face he remembered on his Captain.
 
Elias turned and grabbed hold of a resonance imager and maneuvered the armature over the broken body. The visual display screen revealed the true extent of his Captains injuries in mottled shades of red, yellow and green. His primary heart, and two of his three lungs, had been turned into a knotted ball of charred gristle; his black carapace had melted and bled into heat-fractures in his bonded rib-plate, and top it all off, his mouth had been melted shut. If Cor Madrek hadn’t performed an emergency tracheotomy with his skinning knife, it is likely the Captain would have died aboard the Red Crow. It was no surprise that the Captain’s Sus-an membrane had forced him into the comatose state in which he now lay. Silas shook his head. 
 
“I’ll do what I can old friend, but your luck may have run out this time.”
 
+++++++
 
Absolute darkness surrounded him. No matter how hard he tried to open eyes, all that greeted him was a black abyss. For a being that had preyed on his foes’ fear of the dark all his life, it was an extremely unnerving place in which he now found himself. He tried to remember what had brought him here, what had doomed him to imprisonment in this lightless realm. He had the briefest vision of a burning light and pain, then falling and this eternal black hell in which he now dwelt.
 
Have I died?
 
He wondered to himself. But instead of peace, rage welled up inside of him. He had been cheated, robbed of his destiny. He had sworn to stand once more upon the soil of Terra and watch as the Emperor’s corpse burned upon his throne of lies. He gave voice to a wordless howl of pure hatred and frustration. 
 
This cannot be! 10,000 years of glorious war, only to fall to xenos treachery in some stinking swamp! I cannot die! I will not die! I am Hashec Tor and I will not be denied my vengeance!
 
Icy cold suddenly gripped his drifting body. The chill took his breath away and quelled his raging conscience.
 
Do you fear death little warrior?
 
The words were spoken by a voice so impossibly deep it seemed to reverberate through the very fabric of reality. Like the swell of a thunderous rogue wave, Hashec felt the stirring of something both impossibly ancient and limitlessly powerful. Such was the monolithic presence of the being, that Hashec knew he would have been driven beyond the furthest reaches of sanity, had he eyes with which to witness it. Hashec knew better than to question what the voice was, to try and understand it, for to do so was to invite madness and oblivion.
 
I fear nothing.
 
Black laughter roared through him like a hurricane, threatening to annihilate his fragile form.
 
Your kind is all alike little warrior, so proud, so fierce, but I know what lies in your heart. You fear failure and defeat, you rage against your stolen vengeance and squandered destiny.
 
Hashec felt his ire rise. The voice spoke true. The bitterness of being denied vengeance on the galaxy he hated, on the empire he had helped build, roiled and churned within him. What he wouldn’t give to be free of this abyssal prison, to once again visit death upon his foes.
 
What would you give little warrior? What would you give to evade the grave and walk amongst the mortal realms once more?
 
The entity behind the voice saw through his thoughts as easily as if they had been inked across his skin. If what the voice said was true, and only oblivion awaited him, then he would gladly give his soul to whatever power would see him freed from this infernal darkness.
 
And what of the souls of your erstwhile brethren? Would you sacrifice them as well?
 
Hashec snarled.
 
For vengeance, I would sacrifice them all.
 
Titanic laughter thundered over him, drowning his consciousness in a tide primordial darkness. 
 
+++++++
 
Hashec’s eye snapped open. Elias, who had just finished removing the fused flesh around his mouth, jumped back in alarm. With his scalpel held defensively in front of him he looked warily at the baleful eye staring out from the figure’s ghastly visage. 
 
“Captain?”
 
The horrid figure of his commander sat bolt upright, tearing out several intravenous feed tubes and biometric probes. Hashec’s face, ruined though it was, showed no hint of pain or discomfort. With the measured slowness of a machine, he turned his gaze to the Apothecary. Elis felt his blood run cold under the horrid, piercing gaze of his captain. The voice that issued forth from Hashec’s mouth was a deep, ghoulish rasp, like the growl of some ancient crocodilian.
 
“Where is my armor?”
 
This moment was probably the closest Elias had ever come to knowing what actual fear felt like. It was an effort not to run from the Apothecarion and void the monstrous being before him into space. Elias choked back his alarm and lowered the scalpel.
 
“Captain, your armor was destroyed by the Eldar weapon that wounded you on Volusia, It will take time to repair it. Your Void plate however, should still be functional. It would be in the armory if memory serves.”
Hashec lifted his heavily muscled legs off of the table and stood up. The massive wounds upon his torso and face were still raw and open, and Elias could clearly see the blackened bone of his captain’s rib-plate. 
 
“Gather the company, I will meet them on the bridge.”
 
Without waiting for Elias to reply he turned and strode from the Apothecarion, trailing clusters of monitor leads and nutrient tubes behind him.
 
+++++++
 
The remaining officers of the 15th Company stood in a loose gathering on the bridge of Sins of the Father.  Sergeant Vadrek of 1st Claw was in close conference with the other squad leaders, among them Kol Saresk, his winged helm clutched beneath one arm. Noctus Cornix, leader of the Carnivore Outriders, lurked in a corner along with the Fallen Angel Barael, while Vol Sahid and Edh Costha of the Crimson hand both stood beside Elias. From the set of his features, the others could tell something was deeply troubling the apothecary. 
 
Abruptly all conversation ceased. Pounding footfalls echoed from the hallways outside the bridge and every Astartes present felt their metabolisms accelerate in anticipation of combat. The massive blast doors that guarded the bridge cycled open with a hiss of hydraulics and clanking gears. Steam from the pressure seals swirled aside as the giant form of a Contemptor pattern Dreadnought strode onto the bridge. Relics from the dawn of the Great Crusade, Contemptor Dreadnoughts were an incredibly rare sight in the 41st millennium, especially among the ranks of the Traitor Legions. The skulls and flayed skins of conquered foes were draped about its massive bipedal form on chains that rattled with each thunderous step.  One of its arms ended in a claw with vicious talons the length of a man’s thigh, while from the other was slung a massive six-barreled rotary cannon that could have annihilated everything on the bridge in the space of a heartbeat. Articulate scrollwork on one of it’s armored shins bore the name, Gevaudas. With glowing red eyes that bled pure malice, it target-tagged every living thing in the massive room, prioritizing them according to the potential danger they posed in the space of a Nano-second. Nothing in the room registered above moderate threat.
 
Behind the dreadnought came the imposing forms of the Atramentar, the Terminator elite of the Night Lords legion, they were lead by Champion Cor Madrek. Wielding archaic combi-plasmas and massive power axes, they fanned out to flank the hulking Contemptor, their trophy covered armor jangling in mimicry of their massive companion. The tension on the bridge was palpable; every one of the assembled company officers knew that if it came to blades and bolters, they would all be dead in seconds. The simple fact that Gevaudas had been awakened meant that their lives hung in the balance. Sergeant Vadrek of 1st Claw voiced the question on all of their minds.
 
“Where is the Captain?”
 
Silence greeted him, neither Gevaudas nor the Atramentar spoke. however, just as Vadrek began to reach for the power sword at his side, he heard a sound like the wind blowing through dead leaves. 
 
“Right here, Sergeant.”
 
Vadrek whirled, the Captain stood behind the group of officers, half cloaked in shadow. It didn’t seem possible, the hum of active plate should have given him away. An uneasy feeling crept up the spines of everyone present on the bridge. They saw that the Captain was no longer armored in the imposing bulk of his Terminator war-plate; instead he wore the baroque artificer armor that had once marked him out as the commander of the Void Walkers, an elite unit of which the Captain was now the only remaining member. The officers parted as he stepped from the shadows and moved through them to stand before the armored form of Gevaudas. As he passed they could smell the faint scent of charred flesh and burnt iron.
 
“Report.”
 
Sergeant Kol Saresk stepped forward, his lank, black hair hanging over the right side of his scarred visage like a veil.
 
“Sir, Volusia has fallen, our cousins in the XVII Legion are enslaving the population as we speak and the Marines Exemplar recruitment fortress has been stripped of all usable munitions and material.”
 
The Captain turned his snarling helm towards Apothecary Elias.
 
“What of the Geneseed stocks?”
 
Though his grim features betrayed nothing of what he had witnessed earlier in the Apothecarion, Elias could not quite hide the edge of wariness that crept into his tone.
 
“We recovered seventy-nine intact Geneseed vials from the Exemplars cryo-vaults, the rest were damaged beyond my ability to salvage. Gene markers indicate VII Legion lineage.”
 
The glowing, red eye lenses of the Captain’s helm were locked on Elias like a pair of target designators. Elias felt his skin crawl, as if that infernal gaze had stripped him to the bone and laid open his thoughts for all to see. He felt an involuntary shiver crawl up his spine. Then the captain nodded and looked to the others present. Spreading his arms wide the Captain rose his voice and spoke to the assembled members of 15th company. 
 
“Brothers, we stand upon the precipice. Our prey is weak; they have underestimated us and they have exposed themselves. For their folly we have ripped out their hearts, and now we shall break their backs. We will feast on their fears and crush their hopes; we will flay them alive and string their failure up for all to see! We are the Night Lords and we will carve terror upon the heart of every living thing in these stars!”
 
This was the fire they had missed; this was the towering persona that had led them in days of old. Too long had the captain brooded in his terminator war-plate; growing ever more withdrawn and clutching that infernal axe like some kind of devilish totem. The warrior standing before them in the proud plate of the Void Walkers radiated ferocity and dominance, and gripped in his armored fist was the relic war-maul, Malleus Umbra, a weapon he had once born with pride. This was why they followed the Captain, why they looked to him to lead the pack, because he was not just an apex predator, he was the apex predator. More terrifying and vicious than a Carnosaur, Captain Hashec Tor of the VIII Astartes Legion was a slayer of heroes and an ender of worlds, a killer of men and a force of nature, and he was back where he belonged; leading the finest killers the universe has ever known, in greatest war they would ever fight. 
 
“Abaddon has decreed that the worlds of the Caedon sector will burn, and so they shall. For when the ashes rain from the sky, and the corpses choke the streets, we shall rejoin the Warmaster’s vanguard and bring death to the False Emperor!”
 
The thunderous roars of every Astartes present echoed through the Sins of the Father, even the ship’s reactor core seemed to rumble in assent, and deep down in the blackest reaches of the ship where none dared travel, the faintest sound at the edge of hearing echoed back. The sound of laughter… 

 

 
+++++++
 
Captain Hashec Tor, Commander of the 15th Company, VIII Astartes Legion.
 
http://i1162.photobucket.com/albums/q532/mv8830/Night%20Lords%20II/996c30a3-f5f4-4717-b1af-c6bc5eb5c493_zps19156a2c.jpg
 
http://i1162.photobucket.com/albums/q532/mv8830/Night%20Lords%20II/4f6e593a-0af8-4bce-913e-11c5a248747a_zps1f0b36da.jpg
 
http://i1162.photobucket.com/albums/q532/mv8830/Night%20Lords%20II/eece43dd-85e2-4feb-8bf2-627f4b09bcc7_zpsf7a5391a.jpg
 
http://i1162.photobucket.com/albums/q532/mv8830/Night%20Lords%20II/3e4a61d2-1dde-4063-8ed8-3732cd92cbe9_zps8faf5f71.jpg
 
http://i1162.photobucket.com/albums/q532/mv8830/Night%20Lords%20II/f604a9b8-b1f6-43ca-901d-a301bcc2a7b0_zps0f905960.jpg
 
http://i1162.photobucket.com/albums/q532/mv8830/Night%20Lords%20II/b2b36166-b25c-4a86-a279-b9da8ce905fa_zps2a963f31.jpg
 
+++++++

 

Brutus is a bomb brother, so when will we see you back in the heresy

Thanks man, the jury's still out on me joining the heresy ranks. I don't really have the time or money right now, but there's always a possibility in the future.

 

Haha, hell yeah for Old Skool World Eaters!

Old school is the best school. 

 

Dat army. What a beautiful sight on the tabletop.

 

When will we be seeing some paint on the Plague Marines, bud? 

Thanks man, having a fully painted army on the tabletop is what motivates me in this hobby, it's what we should all strive for. As far as the PMs go, it may be a while before we see them get done, I've been doing some deep thinking on the nature of my army and I'm not sure the 15th is quite ready for full on corruption... yet. They will get done eventually but not before I've progressed the story of Hashec Tor and the 15th company further.

 

Oh God, it looks like Darth and I almost ate it. 

 

 

Excellent work as usual Brother H.

Haha yeah you guys have had some unbelievably close calls in just about every game, so far you've been pretty tough nuts to crack though.

 

I see the crozius now! Very nice!

 

And wrong neighborhood mother-:censored: indeed for that dreadknight. Always awesome to see battle shots!

Well I'll keep posting them then, I know I always enjoy seeing other armies in action.

 

Q: Do you know how you know that you're dealing with World Eaters?

 

A: When your opponent is equipped with lightning claws, but their knuckles are still bloody.

Haha heck yeah man.

 

I've just read through this thread, and I have to say your fluff, modelling and painting are inspiring and disturbing in equal measure. You truly are a proper Night Lord. :wink:

Thanks man, I do my best to keep true to my roots :)
 
+++++++
 
Whew! This has without a doubt, been one of the most labor-intensive miniatures I've ever done. Not because of the actual mechanical work involved, but because the sheer amount of pressure I felt to make him live up to everyone's expectations. It's a hard task taking a character and completely changing his whole dynamic and appearance, while still making it believable. I hope you guys sincerely enjoy the fluff, as well as the model because they are both truly labors of love. Comments and criticisms are much appreciated and greatly encouraged as always!
 
+AVE DOMINUS NOX+
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