+++In Memoriam: Update+++

[Vazzy]

Wow...excellent work! Let's see some yellow splashed on there!

[Marshal Rohr]

OD-Day +19

Karnali Redoubt



 

 

T

he powdered marble dust hung across the causeway like a thick fog, blinding the sensors of Amon’s helmet. His heads-up-display registered friendlies ahead of him, the remnants of III Grenadier’s Assault Platoon pushing forward into the no mans land of the tiered fortress. Vygo walked
beside him, scanning for movement through the haze. The past nine days had blurred together in a waking nightmare. They had endured constant shelling from the grand batteries of the IV Legion, smashing down the walls of the Karnali Redoubt and covering the advance of the worst of the Warmasters allies. First, the bloodthirsty World Eaters had attempted to make the VII Legion pay for
driving them back, but failed when their unit cohesion broke and the Imperial Fists easily isolated them and cut them down. Then had come the Night Lords, soaring down from above and sowing havoc wherever they went. Their warriors were less concerned with driving the Imperial Fists away, and focused almost solely on terrorizing the Imperial Army brigades that held the redoubt. Every
day came reports of flayed bodies and grisly remnants of the mortals butchered for all to see, and the midnight clad legionaries retreating into the darkness without a trace. When the VIII Legion deigned to come after their cousins they would make gruesome sport of their victim, isolating pickets and pursuing them through the access tunnels as they made to warn their brothers of the Night Lords raid. They were always found with the flayed skin of their chests stretched and their skulls split in two, hung from a girder or bulkhead in a mockery of the Imperial Aquila. The veterans were the most visibly disturbed, many had fought with the Night Lords during the Crusade, familiar with the
insanities of the Night Lords, but to see it in done to one of their own burned within them like a fever.           

 

Sergeant Athanaric signaled for the squad to halt. The legionaries of Fourth Squad quickly fanned out in a circle to maintain security while the formation was stopped. Athanaric pressed his forefingers to his ear, an unconscious gesture rendered obsolete by the enclosed helms they all wore. Amon knew he was communicating with the Storm-Captain on the command channel, which could only
mean one thing. They had found the missing picket. Athanaric nodded his head reflexively, as he confirmed his orders and turned back to his squad.

‘Fourth Squad, prepare to pull security for casualty evacuation,’ Athanaric said over
the vox.

He was still alive.

Amon blinked clicked the acknowledgment rune as the squad moved out at combat pace, his heads up display registering the amber marker of a locational beacon above the dull red glow of a magnesium illum flickering through the smoke. Athanaric slapped the pack of each member of the assault element as they passed him taking his place at the center of the formation. The Imperial Fists spread out at combat spacing as they moved forward. Amon and Vygo had been placed in the

assault team, indicative of the increasing trust the older legionaries were placing in the young bloods. They had slowly been proving themselves worthy of their place in III Grenadier throughout the battles within the Karnali redoubt, obediently following orders and conducting themselves with courage. Even the taciturn Athanaric had praised the pair following a firefight with the Warmaster’s own. The dust had begun to settle as the artillery of the Warmaster ceased fire to reposition, and Amon could see more clearly. Approaching the illum flare, Amon halted in his tracks, sucking his breath in violently as he took in the Night Lords butchery.

Above him was one of the assault platoon, a veteran called Graben. His discarded tower shield stood propped against the pillar that held the Imperial Fist eight feet in the air. A cascade of crimson vitae had pooled at its base, nearly and inch deep and a meter wide. Amon was no Hospitallar, but he knew enough about legionary physiology to understand Graben did not have long to live. No matter

how many casualty recovery missions he had been on, the savagery of the Night Lords always rocked him to his core, each act of senseless murder shocking him with every discovery. Athanaric placed a steadying hand on his shoulder and stamped out the flare left behind by the assault platoon, the light from his helmet lamp providing enough illumination to pull the wounded man down.

‘You two, help me get him down.’ Athanaric said to Amon and Vygo.

The squad wordlessly took up positions behind cover while Athanaric and Vygo lifted Amon up to pull the legionary off the rebar impaling him to the column. When Amon got close to the legionary he could hear the ragged gasps of his ruined lung as they tried to filter out the blood drowning him.

‘You are going to be alright, brother,’ Amon said, trying his best to sound

reassuring.

The legionary mumbled something indecipherably, and Amon could see through his broken teeth he was missing his tongue. He quickly looked away and began pulling the flayed skin of Graben’s chest off of the spikes holding it in place. The legionary screamed for a few seconds before his nervous system overloaded and his eyes rolled back into his head, and he fell unconcious while

Amon completed his grisly work. Finally, he grabbed him under the arms and as gently as he was able, he pulled the legionary to his chest, the terrible wet meat sound of Graben’s organs sliding across the two spikes holding him to the pillar. The noise of the act was brutally loud in the rare silence prevailing through the fortress, and Amon couldn’t help but feel as if he was committing
some kind of wrongdoing. When Amon secured the wounded legionary to his chest, Vygo and Athanaric lowered him down. Amon laid him slowly on the ground, kneeling to feel the wounded man’s throat for a pulse, feeling only a weak throb where a healthy legionary’s heart had a strong, steadily pounding beat.

Graben’s eyes snapped open and he began to scream again, this time raising the bare meat

of his arms, strips of flayed skin dripping gore onto the rockcrete. It took Amon’s genhanced reflexes microseconds to realize what he had thought was the agonized screams of a wounded man, were actually a warning. From the vaulted ceiling, shadows detached themselves from the darkness and dropped to the ground with successive thuds, shattering the rock beneath them. Their combat plate powered on with the pulsating bass drone of activated armor. The static white of the
VIII Legion’s signature preysight emanating from a helm painted in a skull’s rictus grin, one had landed less than a meter from where Amon knelt..

‘We have come for you,’ whispered the closest of them.

Amon swung his rifle up, but the Night Lord was quicker. With a slashing motion the murderer sheared through the sling holding the weapon to Amon’s chest, and a backhand blow knocked the young legionary to the ground. Vygo had time to fire a single shot before a kick to the back of his knee dropped him to the ground. Athanaric managed to gut one of the Night Lords before another overloaded a power fist against the Sergeant’s chest, causing his armor to seize with a powerful electromagnetic pulse. A rare specialty of the VIII Legion’s armory slaves, and only used for one purpose. Amon had only enough time to see the rest of Fourth Squad dragged to the ground before the Night Lord that had spoken approached him. The midnight clad warrior violently knelt down on his

chest, knocking the wind from him before dragging a talon along the eye socket of Amon’s helm, crazing the lens.

‘The Warmaster wanted prisoners, weakling,’ the Night Lord said in heavily accented

Low Gothic. ‘You’ll be coming with us.’

Without a word another Night Lord drove his boot into Amon’s helmet, and his world went black. 

 

[GrandMagnus]

Throne... Marshall that was just brutal, Im loving it. Although, how can he feel the pulse through his armoured fingers?

 

I love how you guys make marines come more to life than just the regular old "killing machine super hero".

[Marshal Rohr]

I've always assumed power armor was advanced enough that the forefingers of the armor would have tactile nodes in them to provide haptic feedback through the suit's environmental sensor network. As in, you drag you fingers on a wall, the suit reacts to the texture, converts that texture to information transmitted to the brain via the interface ports in the black carapace. Its why a space marine would know someone slapped him on the back or which way the wind is blowing. 

[Kol Saresk]

OD-Day +19

Karnali Redoubt

T

he powdered marble dust hung across the causeway like a thick fog, blinding the sensors of Amon’s helmet. His heads-up-display registered friendlies ahead of him, the remnants of III Grenadier’s Assault Platoon pushing forward into the no mans land of the tiered fortress. Vygo walked

beside him, scanning for movement through the haze. The past nine days had blurred together in a waking nightmare. They had endured constant shelling from the grand batteries of the IV Legion, smashing down the walls of the Karnali Redoubt and covering the advance of the worst of the Warmasters allies. First, the bloodthirsty World Eaters had attempted to make the VII Legion pay for

driving them back, but failed when their unit cohesion broke and the Imperial Fists easily isolated them and cut them down. Then had come the Night Lords, soaring down from above and sowing havoc wherever they went. Their warriors were less concerned with driving the Imperial Fists away, and focused almost solely on terrorizing the Imperial Army brigades that held the redoubt. Every

day came reports of flayed bodies and grisly remnants of the mortals butchered for all to see, and the midnight clad legionaries retreating into the darkness without a trace. When the VIII Legion deigned to come after their cousins they would make gruesome sport of their victim, isolating pickets and pursuing them through the access tunnels as they made to warn their brothers of the Night Lords raid. They were always found with the flayed skin of their chests stretched and their skulls split in two, hung from a girder or bulkhead in a mockery of the Imperial Aquila. The veterans were the most visibly disturbed, many had fought with the Night Lords during the Crusade, familiar with the

insanities of the Night Lords, but to see it in done to one of their own burned within them like a fever.

Sergeant Athanaric signaled for the squad to halt. The legionaries of Fourth Squad quickly fanned out in a circle to maintain security while the formation was stopped. Athanaric pressed his forefingers to his ear, an unconscious gesture rendered obsolete by the enclosed helms they all wore. Amon knew he was communicating with the Storm-Captain on the command channel, which could only

mean one thing. They had found the missing picket. Athanaric nodded his head reflexively, as he confirmed his orders and turned back to his squad.

‘Fourth Squad, prepare to pull security for casualty evacuation,’ Athanaric said over

the vox.

He was still alive.

Amon blinked clicked the acknowledgment rune as the squad moved out at combat pace, his heads up display registering the amber marker of a locational beacon above the dull red glow of a magnesium illum flickering through the smoke. Athanaric slapped the pack of each member of the assault element as they passed him taking his place at the center of the formation. The Imperial Fists spread out at combat spacing as they moved forward. Amon and Vygo had been placed in the

assault team, indicative of the increasing trust the older legionaries were placing in the young bloods. They had slowly been proving themselves worthy of their place in III Grenadier throughout the battles within the Karnali redoubt, obediently following orders and conducting themselves with courage. Even the taciturn Athanaric had praised the pair following a firefight with the Warmaster’s own. The dust had begun to settle as the artillery of the Warmaster ceased fire to reposition, and Amon could see more clearly. Approaching the illum flare, Amon halted in his tracks, sucking his breath in violently as he took in the Night Lords butchery.

Above him was one of the assault platoon, a veteran called Graben. His discarded tower shield stood propped against the pillar that held the Imperial Fist eight feet in the air. A cascade of crimson vitae had pooled at its base, nearly and inch deep and a meter wide. Amon was no Hospitallar, but he knew enough about legionary physiology to understand Graben did not have long to live. No matter

how many casualty recovery missions he had been on, the savagery of the Night Lords always rocked him to his core, each act of senseless murder shocking him with every discovery. Athanaric placed a steadying hand on his shoulder and stamped out the flare left behind by the assault platoon, the light from his helmet lamp providing enough illumination to pull the wounded man down.

‘You two, help me get him down.’ Athanaric said to Amon and Vygo.

The squad wordlessly took up positions behind cover while Athanaric and Vygo lifted Amon up to pull the legionary off the rebar impaling him to the column. When Amon got close to the legionary he could hear the ragged gasps of his ruined lung as they tried to filter out the blood drowning him.

‘You are going to be alright, brother,’ Amon said, trying his best to sound

reassuring.

The legionary mumbled something indecipherably, and Amon could see through his broken teeth he was missing his tongue. He quickly looked away and began pulling the flayed skin of Graben’s chest off of the spikes holding it in place. The legionary screamed for a few seconds before his nervous system overloaded and his eyes rolled back into his head, and he fell unconcious while

Amon completed his grisly work. Finally, he grabbed him under the arms and as gently as he was able, he pulled the legionary to his chest, the terrible wet meat sound of Graben’s organs sliding across the two spikes holding him to the pillar. The noise of the act was brutally loud in the rare silence prevailing through the fortress, and Amon couldn’t help but feel as if he was committing

some kind of wrongdoing. When Amon secured the wounded legionary to his chest, Vygo and Athanaric lowered him down. Amon laid him slowly on the ground, kneeling to feel the wounded man’s throat for a pulse, feeling only a weak throb where a healthy legionary’s heart had a strong, steadily pounding beat.

Graben’s eyes snapped open and he began to scream again, this time raising the bare meat

of his arms, strips of flayed skin dripping gore onto the rockcrete. It took Amon’s genhanced reflexes microseconds to realize what he had thought was the agonized screams of a wounded man, were actually a warning. From the vaulted ceiling, shadows detached themselves from the darkness and dropped to the ground with successive thuds, shattering the rock beneath them. Their combat plate powered on with the pulsating bass drone of activated armor. The static white of the

VIII Legion’s signature preysight emanating from a helm painted in a skull’s rictus grin, one had landed less than a meter from where Amon knelt..

‘We have come for you,’ whispered the closest of them.

Amon swung his rifle up, but the Night Lord was quicker. With a slashing motion the murderer sheared through the sling holding the weapon to Amon’s chest, and a backhand blow knocked the young legionary to the ground. Vygo had time to fire a single shot before a kick to the back of his knee dropped him to the ground. Athanaric managed to gut one of the Night Lords before another overloaded a power fist against the Sergeant’s chest, causing his armor to seize with a powerful electromagnetic pulse. A rare specialty of the VIII Legion’s armory slaves, and only used for one purpose. Amon had only enough time to see the rest of Fourth Squad dragged to the ground before the Night Lord that had spoken approached him. The midnight clad warrior violently knelt down on his

chest, knocking the wind from him before dragging a talon along the eye socket of Amon’s helm, crazing the lens.

‘The Warmaster wanted prisoners, weakling,’ the Night Lord said in heavily accented

Low Gothic. ‘You’ll be coming with us.’

Without a word another Night Lord drove his boot into Amon’s helmet, and his world went black.

[Rhetoricus]

And then the Imperial Fists having lured the Night Lords into a false sense of security, kicked Astartes butt, fought their way clear and won the heresy

Seriously though, truly awesome work Marshal2 *applauds*

[GrandMagnus]

I've always assumed power armor was advanced enough that the forefingers of the armor would have tactile nodes in them to provide haptic feedback through the suit's environmental sensor network. As in, you drag you fingers on a wall, the suit reacts to the texture, converts that texture to information transmitted to the brain via the interface ports in the black carapace. Its why a space marine would know someone slapped him on the back or which way the wind is blowing. 

Okay, fair enough, I can see that makes sense. Oh power armour is amazing :P

[Marshal Rohr]

[Marshal Rohr]

[ephrael]

That's a good looking weathered yellow you have going there.  What did you use for the blood on the chest?

[Marshal Rohr]

The new citadel technical blood effects. It looks great in person (though this model got smudged and had to be widened).

[ephrael]

The new citadel technical blood effects. It looks great in person (though this model got smudged and had to be widened).

Thanks for the info.  Did you get all of the new Technical paints?  I want to try them but I don't want to order them and waste a bunch of money on GW paints like I did the last time they suckered me.

[Marshal Rohr]

I have Typhus Corrosion and Blood for the Blood God, I love them both, Typhus Corrosion was used on the foot armor, and you can see how gritty it looks. 

[GhostMalone]

They are all worth the money brother they pulled off decent quality this time

[Marshal Rohr]

I just got a tooth brush to do flecking for the blood and corrosion. The helmet will have light arterial spray and the pack will have some corroded parts. 

[ephrael]

I have Typhus Corrosion and Blood for the Blood God, I love them both, Typhus Corrosion was used on the foot armor, and you can see how gritty it looks. 

I guess I'll buy them then they look great on this mini.

 

They are all worth the money brother they pulled off decent quality this time

Your word and M2C are endorsement enough, I'm ordering them this weekend now.

 

I just got a tooth brush to do flecking for the blood and corrosion. The helmet will have light arterial spray and the pack will have some corroded parts. 

Excellent, every post mentioning blood brings me one step closer to painting the World Eaters I'm assembling.

[Barabbas Sogalon]

Now did you paint the dark metal on the back of the mini?

[Marshal Rohr]

1:3 Abaddon Black to Lead Belcher

1:1:1 Nuln Oil to Lahmian Medium to Water

Dry brush with Mechanicum Standard Grey

Make a matte wash with Chaos Black and the new lahmian medium by experimenting with it until you get something the consistency of water but still opaque. Wash this into the deep recesses. Take Runefang and dab it around the edges of each 'ring'. The best tutorial for this part is found by searching for Brother Argos Iron Hands. After that dries a 1:4 Nuln Oil to Water is washed over and ties it all together really well.

[Dosjetka]

The red is far too bright for my liking (looks like fake blood, to be honest). I imagine Astartes blood as being a more richer and darker red than that.

 

Anyway, that's my only little nitpick ;) The rest looks pretty damn good!

[Barabbas Sogalon]

1:3 Abaddon Black to Lead Belcher

1:1:1 Nuln Oil to Lahmian Medium to Water

Dry brush with Mechanicum Standard Grey

Make a matte wash with Chaos Black and the new lahmian medium by experimenting with it until you get something the consistency of water but still opaque. Wash this into the deep recesses. Take Runefang and dab it around the edges of each 'ring'. The best tutorial for this part is found by searching for Brother Argos Iron Hands. After that dries a 1:4 Nuln Oil to Water is washed over and ties it all together really well.

 

Thanks. May try it on my Destroyers to get that chem-scorched look.

[Kol Saresk]

The red is far too bright for my liking (looks like fake blood, to be honest). I imagine Astartes blood as being a more richer and darker red than that.

 

Anyway, that's my only little nitpick ;) The rest looks pretty damn good!

The books usually say that it is brighter than human blood. Something about increased oxygenation I think.

[Nomus Sardauk]

 

 

The red is far too bright for my liking (looks like fake blood, to be honest). I imagine Astartes blood as being a more richer and darker red than that.

 

Anyway, that's my only little nitpick ;) The rest looks pretty damn good!

The books usually say that it is brighter than human blood. Something about increased oxygenation I think.

That would be the work of the Haemastamen Implant, as Lexicanum puts it:

 

"Implanted into the main circulatory system, this tiny implant not only increases the haemoglobin content of the subject's blood, making it more efficient at carrying oxygen around the body and making the subject's blood a bright red, it also serves to monitor and control the actions of the phase 2 and phase 3 implants."

[Dosjetka]

Screw the fluff, I prefer a deep arterial red :P

 

More seriously, I have learned something new, so my thanks to you, good sirs :)

[Kol Saresk]

Yep. See. There you go Ludo. Bright red.

[Kol Saresk]

Screw the fluff, I prefer a deep arterial red

More seriously, I have learned something new, so my thanks to you, good sirs

lol, hey you could always join Chaos and say the blood is filled with tainted sludge.