Lords of Terror. Night Lords 8th legion

[deathspectersgt7]

Ba'al-Zebuwb former Librarian Death Spectres 

[HellChyld]

There should be a Black Templar named Broec in there somewhere.....

Is that a submission Kol?

 

Ba'al-Zebuwb former Librarian Death Spectres 

any gear prefrences for ba'al ? both sound like good submissions. if we can get a little more info I'll get them claw and Company locations.

[deathspectersgt7]

Plasma pistol,Force weapon or force stave.

[Kol Saresk]

Sure, why not? All he needs is a flay knife and a bolter. :D

 

Do you need background?

[HellChyld]

Kol background would be great. and with those we have 10 submissions left.

 

7th company  Lahash the Bone Devil

Broec -  Black Templar - 2nd Claw - Kol_saresk

 

2nd Company  Marbas Andromalius

Ba'al-Zebuwb -  Death Spectres - Infernal - deathspectersgt7

[Kol Saresk]

Okay, let me get to work on it. I'll PM it as soon as it's finished.

[Nomus Sardauk]

Tantalus - Flesh Eater - 1st Claw - SanguiniusReborn

1st Claw, awwwwwwww yeeeeeeaaaahhhhh.

[Lestat]

Cool, Bracchus is an Infernal

I assume that Infernal is support and HQ staff?

[HellChyld]

Yes infernals are chosen, bodyguards, combat advisors on the battlefield as well as specialist.

[Lestat]

Hmmm.......now the fluff I've written has got me thinking. A raid on my bits box might be in order :D

[HellChyld]

After talking to biohazard some time back about a special warpsmith I was wanting to build I have another submission to add to the List. as he was something being developed before I started this little side project he wont take up one of the 20 slots but will be part of the side project itself. so Welcome Warpsmith Hazzard of the Warhounds, Infernal and member of the Inner Circle of the Red Night.

 

Warp Smith Hazzard is an Interesting Character of the 8th lead by HellChyld. Hazzard wears the Livery of the

War Hounds. Hazzard was never gifted with the butchers Nails due to heavy Bionic reconstruction while serving

in the Bloody 13th. Hazzard's ability to work with machines during the hersey was compared to both the Iron Hands

and Salamnders Legions. Some rumors even say he trained along side both legions before the hersey. Since the seige of

terra Hazzard has repainted his armour from that of the World Eaters to That of the War Hounds. what was offered to

Hazzard by HellChyld to have him join the Night Lords is only known to Hazzard and HellChyld alone. The monsters of metal

Hazzard has brought to life to support the 8th as well as the Nightlord Warpsmiths he's trained show his single

minded devoution to the 8th and HellChyld. 

 

so submissions updated.

Renegades of the 8th

Inner Circle of the Red Night Lord Commander HellChyld

Hazzard - War Hound - Infernal - Biohazard

 

1st Company Under Zepar the Red

Lacobus Nikko - Minatour - 2 Claw - PigofSparta

 

2nd Company Under Marbas Andromalius

 

Hesh'an Siam - Salamander - 1st Claw - Dark Ven

Juvinal Ovid - Preators of Orpheus - 4th Claw - Punk Possum

Kur'gath - World Eater - 2nd Claw - Guardian31

Ba'al-Zebuwb -  Death Spectres - Infernal - deathspectersgt7

 

7th company under Lahash The Bone Devil

 

Lucien Ciesa - Imperial Fist - 3rd Claw - Luther the fallen

Heinrich Volstag - Marines Malevolent - 7th Claw - Brother Heinrich

Toruk - Angel of Redemption - 1st Claw - Capitano

Tantalus - Flesh Eater - 1st Claw - SanguiniusReborn

Bracchus - Mortificator - Infernal - Lestat

Broec -  Black Templar - 2nd Claw - Kol_saresk

 

8th Company under Tyre Mastema

Bariel - Dark Angel - 1st Claw - Grotsmasha

 

still 10 spots open so Keep them coming..

[gaurdian31]

Cool, nice to see another member of the XII in with the Night Lords. Also loving the winged skull on your Daemon Prince's chest. Looks really good!

[Aqui]

I've been this topic for a while, and it's one of a growing number centred around Night Lords that have given me a better appreciation of them And on that note, I humbly sumbit the following:

Former Devastator Sergeant B'Kundif, "The one who failed." Bahltimyr Reavers (Ravens of Bahltimyr)

Based on former Baltimore Raven Kicker Billy Cundiff who can't kick a ball to save his fething life! "Laces out!" my arse!

B'Kundif was a decorated Devastator Sergeant when the Chapter was still loyal to the Imperium. Following the fall to Chaos, he was one of a growing number who were disenchanted with the decisions made by the Chapter Master Rai Lurweiss. Openly critical for many years, he eventually challenged Lurweiss for leadership of the surviving Marines, feeling that Lurweiss was unfit to rule. Beaten and banished to a barren moon, he survived by entering suspended animation. After fifty years, he was discovered by pirates, thinking they could sell his inanimate body to the highest bidder. Their presence roused him from his slumber and, after slaughtering his "saviours", sought out others who, like him, had forsaken their Chapters.

His path eventually crossed with the Night Lords. Swearing oaths of allegiance, he took his place with other kindred spirits.

For now.

Not sure what load out to give him, possibly a Plasma pistol and Chainsword to reflect his former status as a Devastator Sergeant

[redhorse]

Sergeant Chi'Undi. Former Blood Angel.

On the eve battle, so long ago he couldn't even recall his own imperial name, Chi'Undi 1st assault sergeant of the fabled IIIrd company of the 9th legion fell to the Rage.

He gave in with not only his mind, but his heart and twisted soul. For years he had been griped with terrible visions of the Angels final battle and for years he suppressed them, till he couldn't resist anymore; till he couldn't fight the truth with in his own heart: he wanted the Rage. Chi'undi wanted to see the final moments of the Angel. He wanted to feel closer to a primarch...but not his own. He wanted to feel the presence of the Warmaster, the bite of his talons piercing the skin of the Angel. So he gave in and turned his back on the imperium. Becoming a sinister shadow of the night, ever moving and forever hungry...

My talons, My fangs are never dull and........I must feed again.  

 

Chi'undi the nightmare.....the shadowed blade....the midnight clad angel.........vampire

[HellChyld]

welcome B'Kundif and Chi'Undi to the 8th. both will join Tyre Mastema in 8th Company.

 

Renegades of the 8th
Inner Circle of the Red Night Lord Commander HellChyld
Hazzard - War Hound - Infernal - Biohazard

1st Company Under Zepar the Red
Lacobus Nikko - Minatour - 2 Claw - PigofSparta

2nd Company Under Marbas Andromalius

Hesh'an Siam - Salamander - 1st Claw - Dark Ven
Juvinal Ovid - Preators of Orpheus - 4th Claw - Punk Possum
Kur'gath - World Eater - 2nd Claw - Guardian31
Ba'al-Zebuwb -  Death Spectres - Infernal - deathspectersgt7

7th company under Lahash The Bone Devil

Lucien Ciesa - Imperial Fist - 3rd Claw - Luther the fallen
Heinrich Volstag - Marines Malevolent - 7th Claw - Brother Heinrich
Toruk - Angel of Redemption - 1st Claw - Capitano
Tantalus - Flesh Eater - 1st Claw - SanguiniusReborn
Bracchus - Mortificator - Infernal - Lestat
Broec -  Black Templar - 2nd Claw - Kol_saresk

8th Company under Tyre Mastema
Bariel - Dark Angel - 1st Claw - Grotsmasha
B'Kundif - Ravens of Bahltimyr - 2nd Claw - Aquilanus
Chi'Undi - Blood Angel - 4th claw - redhorse

 

9 slots remain.

[Nomus Sardauk]

Ah... Our fellowship of fiends continues to grow...

[HellChyld]

okay awhile back when the blogs were still up i had written a fluff peice in two parts. earlier last year I had reworked it while waiting for betrayal. I'll end up re working it again once massacre is in my bloody talons but I thought since its showing where I'm going with my 8th grand company you all might like it so sorry for any typos but its still ongoing. fluff it never ends.

 

Descent

 

Lord Commander Damon Chyld knelt before the altar of dark obsidian upon his flagship ‘Hate’. Thoughts of his past life flowed through his mind

like the strong currents of a stream of adamantite from the foundries on Nostromo. The darkness of Nostromo where he was born, the pain of being a ganger and the terrifying fear of the Haunter’s gaze just before he ran his long, dirty nails through the flesh of his face, marking him. Why the Haunter hadn’t

killed him, only he knew. His face had scarred horribly due to infection of the wounds. Yet, he had survived.

 

With the arrival of the Emperor, He was reborn. The pain of the induction into the Eighth Grand Company of the Night Lords made life upon Nostromo seem like

heaven. Planets turned red in blood, as fear stopped the hearts of those weak of will. System by system the Children of Terror, The Blades of the Haunter,

reclaimed the lost worlds of man. Yet praise from the Emperor never seemed to arrive to the Father of Fear. With each victory, the Father awarded his Commanders and their Companies. Chyld was rewarded many times and soon commanded five full companies as Lieutenant Commander. Only Lord Commander Gius Crucis and Lieutenant Commander Vermithrax held as much, if not more, power in the Legion when the Emperor of mankind betrayed the Haunter and all those who followed him.

 

Grabbing the altar with a taloned hand, Chyld steadied himself. The Pain of betrayal. Which was greater? That of the Emperor or that of the Haunter? The Haunter would destroy Nostromo for its corruption, Yet the Emperor would wish all Children of the Haunter to be punished for merely following orders. In the End the

betrayal of the Emperor in his quest to become a false god in the eyes of weaklings was greater. Chyld Laughed quietly as he remembered all the temples, churches and other places of worship to the corpse god he had corrupted in bloodshed or defiled with the corpses of those who lead worship there. Dorn’s hard headed sons had caught him and his honor guard on Terra during the siege as he bathed the inner sanctum of one such temple in the blood of fools.

 

Muscle burned as Chyld tried to rise to his feet. The pain had been gradually increasing since the informal meeting of the shadow council. One of their own had

acted against them and only through the quick action of another’s agent had there been no Commanders killed and only minor damage to the Chapel had been sustained. The blood sweat had started as the fleet had entered the Warp, while the eldritch Tattoos that covered his massive frame had brightened in intensity before fading almost completely from sight. Attendants had helped remove his armor after the blood sweat had started to corrode it from the inside out. Chyld looked at the remains of the armor where it laid. It had been cleaned of all blood by his attendants yet it still corroded and crumbled till it was nothing more than useless metal. It had been a reward almost 4000 years after the siege of Terra. Its destruction was disturbing but in destruction and pain was rebirth.

 

Lorgar’s Madmen had shown Chyld the Path to Power but it would be his own force of will which obtained his status as a Demon Prince. Weapons, Armor, Strength and Size had all been given to him as rewards. All had been presented in Pain and Destruction, until nothing but strength of mind and will now remained. Had he Failed? Hundreds of millions had been slaughtered across the Imperium of Man as well as outside its borders in the name of Khorne and Revenge. ‘Failed? Doubtful’ thought Chyld, his body spasming as muscles tightened and released. If failure had brought on the transpiring events, Chyld would have been a gibbering wreck by now. Well did Chyld know how Khorne repaid failure; this was not it.

 

Chyld’s grip upon the altar relaxed as some strength had returned to his tortured muscles. Slowly rising to one foot Chyld remembered the day of his transformation

from marine to demon prince. The shrine world of Lumos Savant had been a lush beautiful world, once it was covered in the blood of the Corpse Gods fools that is.

It was through the sacrifice of seventy million souls and skulls to Khorne as well as seven thousand years of war since the siege of Terra that on that day, Chyld’s

body changed rapidly and his honor guard watched his ascendance. Laughing softly, Chyld thought humorously of that day as his muscles spasmed again, taking his breath from his lungs and his footing from beneath him. A great cracking of bone on stone sounded as Chyld’s horns slammed into the altar top, scarring the stone as spiral fractures spread through his horns. With a curse, Chyld’s hands grabbed both horns where they protruded from his forehead. Whether by spasm or deliberate action, another echoing crack pierced the air. Both mighty horns now rested in Chyld’s hands…

 

Resting his forearms against the edge of the alter, Chyld looked at the broken horns in his grasp. What was once harder then Nostromo adamantite now powdered and crumbled like ash in his hands. The memory of pain filled his mind from when the horns had been gifted. Two days of agony like shards of glass pushing through the skin only millimeters at a time. With a grunt Chyld crushed the remains of the horns letting them fall like dust on the alter. Using the alter to rest his weight upon while regaining his footing, Chyld stopped as a torrent of blackish blood flowed down both forearms from rends caused by the alter. What strange wounds the alter had made, thought Chyld as he looked at each in turn. The flesh looked dead around the wounds, much like that of a snake just before it sheds.

 

Slipping back to his knees as he knelt against the alter once more, Chyld Growled as tremors of pain assaulted his muscles. Even his senses seemed to be failing

him as the smell of burnt and rotting meat had risen over that of the incense of the sanctum. Looking back at his arms Chyld noticed with each spasm of his body

more of his flesh looked like that around the wounds in his forearms. The floor around him now pooled with blood sweat and blackish fluid flowing from his arms

yet his strength remained. Running a taloned thumb across deaden looking flesh on his bicep Chyld watched as the skin rent and more of the blackish looking fluid

flowed from within yet no pain came from the wound. Had reason turned against him as well now? His body had released more fluid then it could possibly hold, His

muscle had constricted and released enough to have torn and separated, Horns that had pierced the armor of tanks had fractured broken and crumbled like wood in burnt settlements of backwater planets. Yet even now the pain was no more.

 

Had death claimed him? Doubtful thought Chyld. Facing the reaper was nothing new and never like this. On how many planets had the phantasm death come calling only to be put down or run off like a cur? To many to remember. On Terra it had been that bastard Son of Dorn who had tried only to be crippled and left among the remains of his men. His yellow armor Covered in the blood of his brothers. what a glorious memory it was dismembering him upon the alter of the corpse god. His screams had been music to Chyld and his brothers ears. How had he come to this now then? Had he not remembered his teachings in Fear and Terror? Hadn’t he remained strong in will? Yes he had taken to a Chaos Power. Yes he had taught its strength to his Men and Brothers and been rewarded. Was he like the fools of the World Eaters? NO echoed through the sanctum as Chyld struck his Fist hard upon the Alter. Mindless Fools. The World Eaters and their Primarch were all nothing but fools. Battle was welcome yes but with suffering, pain, fear and terror it was nothing more then an exercise in weapon mastery.

 

Lowering himself to rest on the balls of his feet and knees, Chyld gazed at the Mark of Khorne covering his thigh. Only it had not faded of the eldritch tattoos

that had covered his body. Tattoos, Markings, both had meaning, both had given and earned him respect as a Ganger. The marks on his face By the haunter had given others fear. The tattoos had recorded moments both before and after taking his rightful place in the Night Lords. Running a hand over his shoulder Chyld remember when the 8th had been tattooed upon his flesh under the winged skull of his legion. Eldritch tattoos had been done by the word bearer Markos to upon his body to strength his path to Khorne. Many had covered the old ink done upon Nostromo. Markos Had cursed when Chyld had crushed his hand for trying to cover his legion tattoo. Nothing even Khorne would stand between him and his Legion. Nothing in over ten thousand years.

 

The pools of blood and fluid upon the floor and now risen to ankle depth from the many opened rends in Chyld’s flesh as his mind wandered through memories of

battlefields and ceremonies. Waiting, the calm before the attack. Never had he liked it. They fray of battle had always called to him like a victim’s scream

rending silence. His inner strength has always shown in battle. Intelligence reinforced power of muscle, Knowledge of tactics strengthen the results of massacre after massacre. Terror hung in the air like storm clouds and broke like thunder when he and His brothers were Commanded by the Haunter to begin. Running his fingers over his legion tattoo once more Chyld’s eyes flew to his shoulder as the skin and muscle slough off in his fingers. Yet No pain accompanied it.

 

There beneath the thin remnant of blackish fluid gaping through the rend in dead purplish flesh showed his Legion Tattoo on alabaster skin. How in the nine hells

thought Chyld as he ran fingers over unscarred flesh. Poking the talon on his right index finger into his bicep Chyld’s wonder grew as more purple flesh separated

from his arm leaving alabaster flesh tinted in gore peaking through. Pulling more flesh from his frame Chyld questioned what this could mean. Flesh slough off in

great sections splashing in the pooled fluid around Chyld’s legs. Laughing loudly to himself, Chyld pealed the dead flesh from his frame.

 

Purple flesh revealed white. Scarred flesh revealed unscarred. Taloned fingers revealed Normal nails. Grabbing the remnant of horns upon his forehead Chyld removed the top of his head with a sucking release of demonic skull letting long black hair matted in gore fall freely down muscular back and neck. Gore lay all around Chyld as he completed removing all the demonic purple flesh from his body except for that upon his face. Would they still be there? Laughing loudly Chyld wondered yet again. If his eyes remained amber like that of his demonic self he worried not or his fanged visage. Strange, Only his father’s first gift worried him. Would they remain? Carefully Chyld started to peal the purplish flesh from his face in strips and letting it fall into the gore around his Feet. With each piece his

vision darkened before leaving him completely.

 

Quickly Chyld found the edge of the remaining demon skull covering his face and pulled. With a sickening pop much like that of the removal of the top of the skull

Chyld’s vision returned gore tinted and hazy as he dropped the remnants into the pool at his feet. Carefully Chyld stepped from the pool of gore and walked up the

steps to a alcove. With vocal commands Chyld had the lighting in the sanctum raised and approached only mirror. Matted gore, Blood covered his skin and face.

Carefully cleaning his face and eyes, Joy spread through HellChyld, Lord Commander of The 8th Grand Company of the Night Lords. Staring back from within the mirror was his own scarred, Blood red eyed Visage. Revealing a Fanged smile Chyld Looked over his body in the mirror. Only shoulder and thigh tattoos remained. Raising his

arms into the Air Chyld Laughed Heartedly.

 

 

With scraping of stone on metal and creaking of aged hinges the attendants came to attention as the naked alabaster, black gore streaked form emerged from the sanctum. With a low whispered command of familiar voice the attendants kneeled in homage before cleaning the gore from his body. Exiting the outer sanctum The naked form of the Lord Commander drew pause from his honor guard for only a moment before new light of recognition shinned and Forearms slammed breastplates in formal salute. More then 1700 years had passed since the honor guard had looked upon the old visage of there Lord Commander. How it was possible they knew not but the look of hunger in their lords eyes showed them truth of who stood before them. With a nod and whispered command no louder then a breath the Night Terrors fell in around their Commander. Long did the host walk the halls of ‘Hate’ till arriving at doors long closed and secured. Carefully Lord Chyld slide his hand into the cold recess before feeling the sting of multiple needles in his wrist sampling his genomes and releasing the doors to his chambers as the password to the final lock was registered with a whisper.

 

His Chambers, no one other then attendants and servitors had passed within its walls since his rise to demon prince for his statured form found the chambers to small for his new frame. Within stood statues of all the Night Captains, Commanders and Lord Commander of the 8th grand company. Zepar and Tchez were only two of the fourteen Night Captains to stand in the chamber. Vermithrax and Chyld’s own likeness stood in the furthest alcoves representing the Commanders of the 8th with the seated statue of Lord Gius Crucis, herald of the Dark in place of the Lord Commander of the 8th. It was his demise that had promoted Chyld to lead the 8th with Vermithrax secure in backing him even though at the time Chyld was a winged giant corrupted in power thanks to faith in Khorne. Khorne, Chaos God of battle and bloodshed and so much more. What did this entity and his unknown favor mean to Chyld and the 8th only time could tell. Crucis would have spit knowing that Chyld had returned to a form better known to the legion. He would laugh to hear Chyld admit he was right that Chyld’s interest in the chaos powers would lead him to nothing good. But finally the Old lord commander would cuss unrelenting to know Chyld the Ganger scum wore his title as Lord Commander of the 8th, the reunited 8th great company of the Night Lords now.

 

Slowly Chyld returned to the present from a thousand wars past as he ran a black taloned, pale finger down the side of stone form of the seated Crucis before splitting the silence with laughter. ‘you terran ass Gius! You always did think yourself better then Us from Nostromo. Bitching about you scared face and Knightmare holding the position you craved. Reuniting the Legion was your spoken goal yet more then half your own Grand Company even those Like Zaraz Tchez also from your Beloved Terra sided with me. Sorry you old fool but your time has ended but your dream of a reunited Legion will live on. So rest well, where ever your faith took you.” With a solid thud of flesh on flesh as Chyld slammed his fist against his chest in salute and holding it till its echo died to silence once more. Letting his arm return to his side Chyld turned back to the double doors to his chambers barking for servants and guard alike. With clipped orders just above a whisper the statue was relocated to the black tomb beneath the church of the Haunter Chyld had used to rest in. Chyld’s own statue would be moved to the Place vacated by Crucis and then Zepar’s statue would be placed in that of Chyld’s former location. Who to gain rank in the vacuum of Zepar’s promotion would have to be decided soon. Vermithrax would need to be addressed in council on that matter among others like War on Mirala. Several of the Legion had been reported there including Lord Nosferatus, the Dark Saint Caerolion and even the Terrormaster Steiner. To join them in combat upon the field of battle once more or wait in the darkness for a richer crop of fear. The Father would guide in these matter if only Chyld would but listen. Footsteps of Iron on plates of steel could be heard from outside his chamber approaching.

 

His Raptors were always quick in there work when given orders so their approach brought a smile to his fanged visage. Leaning against his own statue Chyld waited as the red armored word bearer Markos was escorted in to his chambers. Recognition and fear took only second to creep across Markos’ face as he looked upon the naked form of Chyld. “Markos, Explain to me why I have changed? you my spiritual leader in the ways of Khorne, prophet of chaos since the heresy. Why has Khorne taken all his gifts to me but one. His rune still burns upon my thigh as it was placed while Horus lived. Yet all others are gone, all of your eldritch markings burn upon my skin no more except his mark. Horns, Wings, size all gone yet his mark still shows I carry his favor as well as wield his blade Belaghast. How is this so old wise prophet? Explain to me why he has returned me to my original form with a variance?” stopping before a weapons rack just out of view from the entry way Chyld pulled the reddish-black blade of Belaghast from the shadows before circling the word bearer as he listened to the many explanations spill from his lips. Many rotations of the word bearer did Chyld walk as he looked over the new shape Belaghast had taken while Chyld himself had shred his old form to be reborn yet again in a even older visage.

 

Stopping behind Markos, Chyld smiled. “Markos old Prophet, Your explanations fall on deaf ears for nothing you say compares to words of wisdom I had forgotten long

ago. Terror and fear come in strong forms of their own and Khorne while most believe to be a lunatic guiding, frothing madman who cares for nothing but blood and skulls has shown me the truth. He respects Martial prowess, mastery of tactics and the ability to conquer ones enemies.” Chyld let Markos turn to face him as he set Belaghast point down upon the floor with his hands resting along the pommel and guard. Chyld savored the smell of fear as Markos looked upon his smiling visage wondering what Chyld’s next action would be. Chyld wondered if this was How it felt for the Father as he cut down his captors.

 

Pivoting Belaghast at the Pommel Chyld let its point catch Markos just below where his Chest armor and abdominal armor joined with exposed power cabling. With the

slightest of nudges Chyld pushed the blade till it erupted through Markos’ shoulders and through the top of his power pack. With a gasp and blood spittle Markos sagged onto the blade till only Chyld kept him upright. “ Poor Markos, Khorne demanded your blood for your weakness, but the Father of Fear and Terror demanded your life for misleading his Sons. A new Age has arrived upon the 8th Great Company and your words and false teachings are no longer required.” Placing a hand upon Markos’ shoulder Chyld pushed the dead word bearer from his blade and let him fall in a heap at his feet. “Night Terrors, Send word to all Night Captains of the 8th great company as well as to the High Paladin of Fear Vermithrax. Conclave is called and the Herald of the Dark, HellChyld Demands their Attendance.”

 

Death walked the the dead hulk as it flowed through space. Air crystals hung suspened where thay had froze as the ship had suddenly vented into the warp. preadators moved through the walls drawn to the presence as he moved about. Turning to each as they arrive their cries of agony only called forth more as the essence was drained fueling the ancient armoured entity. with a click of metal on metal the figure stopped. something new had arrived as his visions had fortold. with an inhuman smile, the figure moved through the long, dead airlock and stared at the midnight colored dropship disembarking a perverse giant, clad in blood red robes and remains of flesh demonic and female in origin. as the giant moved from the ramp, 5 other similarly armoured figures joined the first, awaiting orders.

 

motioning for them to wait, the gaunt scarred giant laid eyes on the ancient form in the doorway. his orders had been clear, search the hulk and bring back whatever was drawing the warspawn to the hulk. Chyld hadn't said it would come find them. watching the figure approach, the monster circled and smiled as his infernals positioned themselves around the entity. No heat source showed on the thermal scans. As if possible in the void of space, the temperature around them fell several more degrees and his demonic decor shivered and moaned at the unnatural cold. Shrugging off the cold, the giant moved forward and motioned to the unhelmeted figure.

No known markings were visible upon the ancient embossed armour, the figure and the build of the figure was slight for Astartes. What the figure was, the giant didn't know but ordwers were to be followed as he activated the vox in his helmet. His voice sounded feral in the cold and there was a shiver heard in his voice as he greeted the figure. No verbal responswe was given as the figure moved into position to stand next to the giant. Demonic skin hardened and cracked like glacial lakes moved from beneath frozen waters. Snarling in pain and pleasure, his pretties moaned and withered under the strange presence. moving back towars the dropship, the giant laughed to himself. Things were becoming interesting again, just as Chyld promised. Following the figure into the dropship, the giant wondered what else would come about from the returned Chyld.

 

Standing in the alcove of his chambers, the herald of the dark stood still as attendants clad him once more in midnight armor, nothing as it was before the corruption. This armor had belonged to one of the Sanguine's sons, called a Flesh Tearer, and a specialist of rank. The librarian was the last to fall before he had started to revert into this more human-like form. Listening to belaghast scream, nearby Chyld slienced him with a thought, it hadn't taken the artiicers long to convert the armor to his needs.

 

spinning on his heel once finished in doning his reignment the herald moved from his chambers to thrugh the ship to the main flight deck where his conclave of the eighth grand had been summoned by infernals and night captains. moving to the conclave of his night captians he noticed more then a third of them missing. Amoung them Marbas, Andras and Vermithrax the high Paladin. Marbas had been summoned to him earlier to investigatea hulk that had come out of the warp. Andras had taken close to a 800 marines for the eighth just after chyld's corruption. His mentor would be missed.Vermithrax and 300 marines had not reported back for some time. some unwanted whispers had said his mission had failed.Others said his goal hadn't been finished and no one expected him to return with work un-done. Either way Chyld would not write his friend off yet.If he himself could be returned then it only showed others could be aswell.

 

Seventeen hundred years had passed since his corruption yet even now he stood whole looking down from the conclave at his own with his own eyes once more. Shaking his head quickly just once, Chyld thought of his eyes. They were no longer black, like those of his brothers. They now looked as orbs of blood but he could find no differences; at least not outside of the warp. Inside the warp was a wholly different matter: the corruption of Markos' false teachings could be seen all around him. It would need to be purged. Once done, the 8th could begin to be rebuilt. Maybe the missing pieces could be found. Only time knew anything for sure -

and time was a fickle bitch.

 

 

Turning his attention to the leadership of the conclave that was not of the Eighth, Chyld smiled to himself before saluting each in turn, as he looked upon his face of old. Some of them had known him before the Corruption, like Nihm, the Raptor lodge master, who looked upon him, unphased, as if expecting nothing more of the new arrival of the Demuri who seemed to think Chyld was doing a trick and couldn't quit looking in the shadows for his old corrupted form. Stormbirds marked as the 7th soon landed as requested and the gaunt Nihil appeared, raven feathered and all. His own appearance among the apothecaries had meant the coded message had peaked his interest, but his response opon laying eyes upon Chyld would have been better entertained, as Nihil punched, not once, but twice before fist met hand and eye met eye. The whispers then uttered by Chyld would only be known by the two men, as Nihil pulled his fist from Chyld's hand before looking over Chyld's bloodied face, and motioning for Chyld to proceed.

 

Chyld then intoduced Nihil to the captains in attendance, as if he might have forgotten them since the fall of the father. the conclave then moved to stand over the gathered 8th. Nihm, Demuri, and Roshell called their officers to them and walked from the conclave. Chyld's actions over the coming hours were not for the eyes of those not of the Apothecary, or not of the 8th. Nihm nodded silently to Chyld as the massive doors closed. With a clack of metal on metal, the infernals moved down row upon row of those gathered there; gathering the corrupted in ranks, and bringing forward all except the lost, who even now stood, penned for the gathering.

 

Three groups of the eighth soon stood on the flight deck. Those who no longer looked like Night Lords by their own hands' design. Those who had gifts, but remained honorable. And those still standing in ranks, as summoned for the gathering. Chyld's next words raised voices throughout two of the three groups. Marko's teachings were outlawed, his shrines to be removed, and any who didn't like it could leave. To his surprise, none had stepped forward. His next orders again raised voices as sixteen officers stepped forward with new mantles and armor of dried blood. These officers were keepers, or lodgemasters, of the Blood Road. These chaplains were to help return those of the 8th to see Markos' betrayal and make them strong again. Again, none moved to the area where those who wanted could leave. The next actions turned the deck red with blood from butchery. Those too mutated had been moved to Chapels with the Chaplains. Those with few gifts had them removed by Powerblade. Apothecary white became gore red, still none backed down. Chyld approved, the 8th would need time to heal, metal and new flesh would need to mend. It would happen as the Stormbird would return with the Stranger. All happened as the vision fortold. Moving through the gore, Chyld looked on it as a new baptism of the Road. Those strong after removal would receive rank, and those too weak would be granted quiet mercy, but none would be forsaken.

 

Movement from Nihil drew Chyld's attention. One of those taken by the Chaplains had returned. Was his return the first to be lost? Chyld listened as he asked for his gift to be removed. Nihil's request for Chyld showed his eagerness to do the surgery after so much butchery. Chyld nodded as the master Apothecary removed himself and his fallen brother from the deck. Chyld heard himself offer hope that Nihil was victorious in his goal. Skarred, strange this word would pop from his mind. many around him now showed this strange name of long dead gangers would pop forward. Soon enough they would once again have voice.....

 

 

 

hope you like it. still looking for 9 more renegades to join the 8th grand company.

[Vazzy]

Marcus Licentius

 

Once a member of the illustrious Ultramarine second company, Marcus was known for his brutality, pride, and savagery that would’ve been more at home among the Carcharadon Astra or Minotaurs. After the Geros campaign, where he burned a Shrine full of pilgrims he suspected was tainted he was assigned to embark on a penitent quest to defeat one of the many marauding chaos warbands in the area. It appear though, that instead of destroying the Chaos marines, he instead found Kindred spirits among the Eighth Grand Company, and renouncing his XIII legion loyalties, and took up the midnight armor of the VIII instead. A consummate swordsman, Marcus has not let his skills fade, will attempt to duel rivals for the most foolish of reasons, proof that his prideful nature is still alive and well.

 

 

As for load out, I had a power sword/gladius and Combi flamer.

[HellChyld]

Welcome Marcus Licentius as your a swordsman and prideful you'll join Tyre Mastema in the 8th company as an infernal.

 

8 spots left!!

[Daemon Smith]

Nice idea! Here's my contribution:

Vrey'Arth, renegade from the XVIII Legion, the Salamanders.

 

Ever a spiteful soul, Vrey'Arth fought in the Istvaan Massacre against the Night Lords and other traitor Legions. In the midst of the battle, his tactical squad was surrounded and cordoned off from support. One by one, his brothers fell around him, until only his Sergeant and Vrey'Arth remained. Rather than be killed in a worthless show of defiance, Vrey'Arth turned his Bolter on his sergeant, killing him when his back was turned. He then willingly surrendered to the Night Lords forces, vowing to serve the sons of Nostramo for the rest of his days.

Since then, Vrey'Arth has learned to use the frightening visage granted by his dark-skinned primarch to inspire dread in his foes. Painting his face with white war paint, Vrey'Arth embodies the meaning of fear, his daemon-visage made all the more frightening by the skull motifs he wears. He wields the favoured weapons of the Prometheum Creed, namely flamers and melta guns, believing fire to be the catalyst of the most primal fears of man.

 

++EDIT++

 

For the record, I didn't see DarkVen's submission till after I posted this... I guess great minds think alike ;)

[HellChyld]

welcome Vrey'Arth you'll be joining 1st claw 5th Company under Zaraz Tchez - The Siege Hammer

so to upgrade the renegade Listing

Renegades of the 8th

Inner Circle of the Red Night Lord Commander HellChyld

Hazzard - War Hound - Infernal - Biohazard


1st Company Under Zepar the Red

Lacobus Nikko - Minatour - 2 Claw - PigofSparta


2nd Company Under Marbas Andromalius


Hesh'an Siam - Salamander - 1st Claw - Dark Ven

Juvinal Ovid - Preators of Orpheus - 4th Claw - Punk Possum

Kur'gath - World Eater - 2nd Claw - Guardian31

Ba'al-Zebuwb -  Death Spectres - Infernal - deathspectersgt7

 

 

5th Company under Zaraz Tchez - The Siege Hammer

 

Vrey'Arth - Salamanders - 1st Claw - Daemon Smith
 

 

7th company under Lahash The Bone Devil

Lucien Ciesa - Imperial Fist - 3rd Claw - Luther the fallen

Heinrich Volstag - Marines Malevolent - 7th Claw - Brother Heinrich

Toruk - Angel of Redemption - 1st Claw - Capitano

Tantalus - Flesh Eater - 1st Claw - SanguiniusReborn

Bracchus - Mortificator - Infernal - Lestat

Broec -  Black Templar - 2nd Claw - Kol_saresk


8th Company under Tyre Mastema

 

Marcus Licentius - Ultramarine - Infernal - Vazzy

Bariel - Dark Angel - 1st Claw - Grotsmasha

B'Kundif - Ravens of Bahltimyr - 2nd Claw - Aquilanus

Chi'Undi - Blood Angel - 4th claw - redhorse

 

 

7 slots left. loving the entries so far. remember even a spot of fluff is great as it'll help with building the characters.

[HellChyld]

So I'm starting to gather ideas for renegades submitted and for Bariel the Dark Angel in 8th Company. I think with a Nightlords twist it'll be interesting... http://i101.photobucket.com/albums/m74/Margorach/null_zpsda05496c.jpg

 

Not sure if I want to do the hooded guy to the right or the main marine with winged helm...

 

Company assignments are slightly changing also as a older piece of fluff I wrote will make two of the submissions a little more twisted.

[ephrael]

Can I submit a marine to join your Night Lords HellChyld? I'll have to come up with a chapter and story but I would like to submit a marine and even bits to help with the build.

[HellChyld]

Sure mikhail ! Looking forward to your submission.

[Flint13]

Muunokhoi Jag'han of the White Scars heeds the call of midnight clad.

 

The white scars have always been masterful in the style of lightning strikes and feigned flight. Maybe something had gone wrong in his implantation process, maybe someone had a duplicitous hand in his hypnotherapy and indoctrination... but all that is known for sure is that Muunokhoi Jag'han had always been particularly brutal in the execution of his Khan's orders. This was compounded by his short fuse and vicious temper. 

 

As a lancer of the Blackcrow Brotherhood, a bike vanguard of much repute, he found numerous ways to maliciously interpret the wishes of his Khan in the most horrific ways possible. Even as a younger initiate, he would often fly into violent rages that would draw the attention of his brothers. The inevitable finally occurred in a routine compliance pacification gone wrong... a small colony of several hundred murdered when they refused to submit immediately to  Muunokhoi's will. The massacre left four of his own Brotherhood dead when they finally challenged his authority, attempting to stem the crazed Scar's malicious rampage.

 

Muunokhoi left the remains of his honorguard broken and bleeding on the plains as he fled the retribution of his Khan's Great Brotherhood and the scrying eyes of the Stormseers. One marine doesn't stand much of a chance against the threats of the galaxy, and even dubious brothers are better than none at all. The "welcoming" arms of the Nightlords legion opened wide to accept a specialist like Muunokhoi when they came upon him in the galactic backwater with nowhere else to turn... Nothing comes free in the grim blackest of the Nightlords' darkest lairs, so their intentions for a rabid White Scar can only be guessed at...

 

Muunokhoi Jag'han is a former biker who prefers wielding the bolt pistol and curved tulwar of his former cadre life, while going helmetless with a large topknot and several impressive mustaches. He also carries the broken spear he used to slay his four honorguard in a previous life. The old weapon keeps his mind focused and keeps the hate the Nightlords' find so valuable burning bright in the darkest corners of his soul.