Jump to content

+++In Memoriam: Update+++

Marshal Rohr

By Marshal Rohr
in + WORKS IN PROGRESS +

Recommended Posts

The_Chaplain Venerable Brother

The_Chaplain

Posted
Posted

Wow brother, utterly inspiring! You truly do the IV justice. I strive to someday be on your level! 

As do we all brother; but to achieve the greatness that the most prestigious of converters/painters/modellers/etc. have achieved, something more must be given than the traditional blood, sweat and tears.  Some speak of dark rituals, and others whisper of even darker contracts and pacts to be signed and made. You must ask yourself...do you have the fortitude of will to peer into the void and do the same?

 

 

Seriously though, I have no idea how they do it either but I want those dark voodoo powers for myself

 

Kol Saresk Venerable Brother

Kol Saresk

Posted
Posted

 

 

Wow brother, utterly inspiring! You truly do the IV justice. I strive to someday be on your level!

As do we all brother; but to achieve the greatness that the most prestigious of converters/painters/modellers/etc. have achieved, something more must be given than the traditional blood, sweat and tears. Some speak of dark rituals, and others whisper of even darker contracts and pacts to be signed and made. You must ask yourself...do you have the fortitude of will to peer into the void and do the same?

 

 

Seriously though, I have no idea how they do it either but I want those dark voodoo powers for myself

So what you're saying is that I need the Resinomicron as written by the Mad Alaskan Akan of the 1,000 Heathens?
ephrael Venerable Brother

ephrael

Posted
Posted

Akan is dead. Glory to Dragoon-Captain Phelan Mahdra, the Wolfhound of Old Earth.

 

 

Far sexier name too.

Wolfhound has an almost foreshadowing ring to it, I like it.  I had to re-read it twice I thought it was Warhound.  Please pardon my confusion and carry on.

Hyaenidae Venerable Brother

Hyaenidae

Posted
Posted

gallery_37532_8712_11117.png

gallery_37532_5424_98071.png

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CVyNA7mi2V0&feature=player_detailpage

+ Part III +

+ OD-Day (Terra), Minus 2 +


“Twenty seconds to dock, Sir. Captain Mahdra wants all senior leadership to meet at Pylon 64 / Omega upon arrival.” Xiphos-Warrant Kell nodded to the crew serf in acknowledgment, the young mortal moving down to the assault ramp to prepare for docking. For the first time in over 23 hours, Kell unsealed his battered Sarum-pattern helm, and peeled it away from his sweat caked skull, running fingers through his short cropped hair. The smell of cordite, overheated metals, and spilled blood was nearly overwhelming in the confined space, the small boat loaded with three squads of Dragoons, and twelve IV Legion warriors whose journey was at an end. Not a single Astartes aboard the ship was unmarked, some of his brethren only now having a chance to patch their wounds. Kell himself was sore down to the marrow, lactic acid choking his muscles, wounds throbbing as they healed and bones re-knitted. The last day had been one of the toughest, most hectic boarding actions he had ever taken part of, barring none. The Grace of Angels had not died easily, her IX Legion crew vicious to the core and dedicated to her defense. Worse, having to stalk and kill, on Captain Mahdra's orders, dozens of Lorgars' polluted and monstrous children who had also boarded the ship had been mentally taxing as well. Kell's new-found faith, shepherded by the Old Man himself while Kell was still soul-broken following the Olympian Insurrection, was the only thing that kept his humours in balance while facing such filth. He could not conceive of a reason why a noble Astartes would ever allow himself to become an aberration, and had been damn proud to put those wretches out of their misery. He continued to quietly recite one of the prayers he had been taught to settle his mind, until shaken from his serenity as the assault boat touched down on the deck of the Blade of Khamael with a hard thump.

Exercising one of the perks of a Warrant rank, Kell got to his feet as the ramp began lowering, pushing past the other squads as their Sergeants barked orders. Outside of the standard chain of command, Xiphos-Warrant Kell answered to only a handful of higher ranked officers within the Dragoons, thus was exempt from the standard roll off after missions. It also gave him a chance to get to his armourer before the rank and file, which was a blessing, as his antique arms and piecemeal warplate were beaten badly, and would need some serious work. Kell stepped down from the boat and onto the deck of the Khamael's colossal holding bay, which was a hive of activity as the Dragoons began both after action repairs and draw-down, and ramp-up for the upcoming assault on the Throneworld. Serfs, Mechanicum adepts, Iron Warriors; every able body aboard the ship was hard at work, preparing for the upcoming orbital drop. The massive bay of the Blade of Khamael was a unique feature of the Tarasque Class Battleship, extending nearly the length and width of the great warship's hull, and acting as not only a landing bay, but also a motor pool, assembly area, armoury, and far more besides. Flight crews rushed towards the assault boats as they landed, cutting away at damaged plate before the void-mist had even pulled away from the hulls. Triage posts had been set up at intervals near the landing positions, Apothecaries beginning care for injured brothers the moment they stepped from their ships. Work stations had been set up further back, some of the the iron braced tables hosting weapon maintenance equipment, and plate repair stations. Others were stacked deep with crates of bolt rounds, grenades, and other various munitions. Every table and every station, though, was surrounded with both Legionaries and serfs, doing the work side by side as equals. Iron Warriors assisted mortal crew with loading and repairs of vehicles, or carrying menial supplies into the holds of the various ships edging the bays. Adepts of mighty Mars directed the Dragoon Land Raiders into the transport harnesses in the bellies of Stormbirds and Thunderhawks, as Iron plated warriors guided them into their exact positions. Legion serfs fed rounds into empty magazines, then passed them on to their Transhuman masters, who then either stuffed them into pouches or stacked them into foam lined boxes, to be loaded into a landing craft.

Madness. But controlled madness, despite appearances.

Kell found his personal armourer, Sotirya, amongst the crush of bodies outside the assault boat, waiting with a load-bearing trolley, her Allonian heritage evident in her silver-blue eyes and platinum hair. Kell gave her a small wave of welcome, while her face soured at the condition of his plate and arms. He hated that face; it painfully reminded him of his long-dead mother, and her disapproving glare when he entered the house filthy as a youth.

“Did you lose a fight with a bloody Titan, sire? Your armour looks like hell.” Sotirya's gaze drifted to his wargear, already calculating what and how long it would take to bring Kell's equipment back into serviceable status. “And your brethren wonder why your plate is made of a dozen different suits...”

Kell honestly smiled, a rarity since Olympia died. “I didn't make Warrant because of my good looks, Soti.” He rested his chipped and edgeless gladius upon the trolley, soon followed by his half-shattered helm and badly dented power gauntlet. “A note on the gauntlet; I'm getting a 1.8% excess power draw on it's cells. Never really noticed it during short engagements, but I was burning through charges quick during this fight. Might want to tune it's matrix lattice, or check the wiring for shorts.”

Sotirya's face was all business now, her watchmaker's mind already running through a dozen different possibilities. “Yes, Sir. Your Plasma Holdout?”

Kell shook his head. “Barely used the damn thing, too close quarter. Don't worry about the rest of the plate, I'll help patch and buff it later; got to debrief, time now.” Sotirya nodded, understanding what he meant. “I'll have them back to you within the day, sir. Keep your vox close.”

He nodded his thanks, and began jogging towards Pylon 64 / Omega. Due to the vast open space within the bay, massive columns were needed to reinforce the Khamael's bones, lest her superstructure pull itself apart during hard maneuvers. Each of these columns, or pylons, were labeled and numbered, and were generally used as assembly points for squads during training or drill. Kell found 64 / Omega within a few minutes, pinned in between a pair of Dragoon Malcadors, and far away from the chaos of an entire Legion Squadron preparing for the War to end all Wars. As he broke from his jog, Kell noticed Support Squad Rho, the 'Fire-Eaters', holding a secure perimeter around the meeting area, which immediately made his hair stand on end. The Fire-Eaters were, to a man, armed with slim, stocked shotguns, loaded with rare Olympian slag-shells; Astartes-killers. Their Sergeant, Kapaneus, jerked his head in the direction of the meeting area, as Kell passed. Coming around the edge of the Malcador King's Ransom, Kell found that he was the last officer to arrive, the rest of the junior leadership in a horseshoe formation around the man himself, Dragoon-Captain Phelan Mahdra. The Captains' plate was still soot stained and caked with blood, pouches empty, his wounds unpatched; never a good sign. Captain Mahdra was always prepared, or was preparing. That something was resting upon his Master's mind so heavily that he could not stop to ready his equipment for the next engagement, honestly scared Kell. Worse yet, he was pretty sure he knew what was bothering him.

Mahdra looked up, the floodlights above them oddly dimmed, casting his ancient face in shadow, his knuckles dug into the table before him. “This war has taken upon itself shades of morality,” he began, his growling, deep bass voice causing shivers to travel up the spines of every post-human present. “We have assumed, as we waged war against the Shattered Legions these last six years, that the goal was pure of purpose and intent. That the death of the False Emperor would bring peace to the galaxy, that True Unification would begin. We have all heard the rumours as well, though, as the years have gone on. Cousins twisted and demented, selling their bodies for power. Primarchs with poison at their hearts. Monsters amongst men, and men cast and cut as monsters. Even our gene-sire, as insane as it sounds, letting the bitter root take hold. Even the Warmaster. We were lied to, misled, blind. Upon the Grace of Angels, though, we have seen the truth.” The Captain stopped, to let this soak in. Kell could see veteran Astartes, hardened killers and versed in hundreds of years of war, with tears in their eyes, trying to deny this. Their silence in the face of this tragedy, though, spoke volumes. They had seen, they had heard. There was no denying the howls of blood on ship to ship vox. The prayers to unknown Gods. The chanting. The hideous aura around far too many of their 'allies' vessels.

“Our Fathers have failed us.” Mahdra slammed his gauntlet into the table, leaving a massive dent in it's surface. “Failed. Our path is now twisting and broken, but we must still travel it to the end. The Emperor must still die, for his madness and arrogance. Terra must be free of his tyranny, and must be secured. But, Horus will be far worse, and must never gain the throne. His brothers either. They are all suspect, all poisoned. Even our Father. We must find allies amongst the filth, angels amongst the daemons. We, the Adeptus Astartes, must save mankind, for no other will. And so, I have called upon oaths older than the formed Legions, bonds older than Unification. Some have not, and will never, answer. But some.... some have...”

Xiphos-Warrant Kell felt it behind him, and twisted as he reached for his Holdout at the small of his back. Not a true sensory feeling, per se, but something beyond his senses that had saved his ass more times than he could count, an understanding that something lethal was close enough to touch. His reflexes were Olympian born, 180 sidereal years of intimate close quarters combat; in trench, breach, and boarding action. His rank was the equivalent of other Legion's Battalion Champions, and Kell had killed a few of those over the last few years. There was no Dragoon who was more dangerous than he with fist, blade, or quick-draw with small arms. No one.

Xiphos-Warrant Kell didn't even clear his pistol from it's holster before he froze. There was already an elegant blade at his throat, just short of piercing flesh.

Kell's gaze traveled up the length of the Karis Sabre, to midnight blue warplate that had been acid eaten and faded to a battered, lusterless sky. Obsidian eyes that bled down the faceplate of his Mk IV helm, crested by broken wings. A ragged cloak that blended his body with the shadows he had emerged from. Most telling, the foreign Astartes wore a shoulderplate of blackened bronze, cast in the image of a winged skull.

“Night Lord”, snarled Kell in disgust.

“No.”, spoke Mahdra, as his fingertips pressed against the priceless sword, pushing it away from Kell's neck. “Eighth Legion, Ninth Company. Crimson Sons. There is a vast difference.” As he spoke, Mahdra unsnapped his vambrace, exposing the vicious scars, the Stigmata of the Firstborn, upon his weathered flesh. The Eighth Legion killer snapped his blade into it's sheath, unsealing his own vambrace swiftly, and without a sound. The bared arms slapped together, bare hands grasping forearms. Kell suddenly realized that, wreathing the VIII Legionary's alabaster skin, were extremely deep, yet surgically perfect, scars, identical to the Stigmata that the Old Man wore proudly.

Another Firstborn. Pre-First generation Astartes. The prototypes that every single Legionary was cast from. 'Impossible', thought Kell. 'All except the Captain are dead....'

Mahdra's broken lips attempted to smile as he spoke, “...And our history goes way back.....”

+++ To Be Continued +++

::::Recovered recording:::Data-Stack 761-101::::Noospheric interface complete:::::processing request::::::Granted:::::

gallery_37532_5424_324353.pnggallery_37532_5424_252595.png

[Pict Capture DC/997-01-32] - (Rank / Position Unk) Vall; Eighth Legion, Ninth Company (Crimson Sons)

+Further Intel Forthcoming+

gallery_37532_8712_22653.pnggallery_37532_8712_273518.png

[Pict Capture DX/997-83-2221] - Xiphos-Warrant Kell, Dragoon Champion

Olympian born, Kell showed little advancement within the IV Legion ranks, until the Olympian Insurrection and it's aftermath, where his close-quarter combative skills came to the fore during hab-block to hab-block engagements. Spiritually broken, but physically and mentally strong, Dragoon-Captain Mahdra promoted the young warrior to the rank of Corporal within III Squad (Tactical), and took him under his wing in an attempt to develop his confidence and leadership abilities. During the Heresy, Kell found himself promoted to Sergeant when his senior NCO was executed for actions 'unbecoming of a IV Legion Non-Commissioned Officer' while engaging the Salamanders Legion, and though he was capable in such a position of responsibility, Captain Mahdra quickly saw that Kell's strength lay in his skill at arms, and ability to cut down opposing Champions. Laterally promoted to a rare Legion rank of Warrant, Kell was removed from the standard chain of command, and given free reign to support the Legion with his talents as he saw fit. Xiphos-Warrant Kell remained a terror for any opposing force during the Siege, and was the only surviving member of the XIV Dragoons after the Victory of the Emperor Resolute. Kell fought hard and viciously for the next thirty years, until he was laid low upon the blasted soil of Olympia herself, knee-deep in the corpses of both Imperial Fist and Ultramarine aggressors.

gallery_37532_8712_317223.png

[Pict Capture DX/997-83-453-2-2] - Legionary Alban, II Breacher

gallery_37532_8712_215274.png

[Pict Capture DX/997-83-245-532] - Legionary Jhosua, I Sapper


gallery_37532_8712_149229.png

[Pict Capture DX/23-445-21] - Legionary Tollan, I Tactical

The_Chaplain Venerable Brother

The_Chaplain

Posted
Posted

Heathens, your bottomless bits box never ceases to make astounding minis.

Alright, censored.gif it- where do I get those voodoo powers? What mountain do I gotta climb? Or at the very least will you divulge where the chainsword on Jhosua and the shield on Kell came from?

Conn Eremon Veteran

Conn Eremon

Posted
Posted

Wait, so the Iron Warrior and Night Lord captains are "pre-Astartes?" They are Thunder Warriors, or something in-between of your own devising?

 

Also, even though you of course didn't name him after me, and how the heck would you know my given name anyways, I am nonetheless immensely pleased to see this Jhosua.

Brother-Chaplain Kage Venerable Brother

Brother-Chaplain Kage

Posted
Posted

 

 There was no Dragoon who was more dangerous than he with fist, blade, or quick-draw with small arms. No one.

 

Xiphos-Warrant Kell didn't even clear his pistol from its holster before he froze. There was already an elegant blade at his throat, just short of piercing flesh.

 

Kell's gaze traveled up the length of the Karis Sabre, to midnight blue warplate that had been acid eaten and faded to a battered, lusterless sky.

 

I got chills. Seriously.

 

And then I was like:

 

http://i.imgur.com/0rSDPjl.gif

Hyaenidae Venerable Brother

Hyaenidae

Posted
Posted

I'm stunned. I don't know how you do it. Great piece of fluff and awesome VIII legionary, nice use of the IG power fist on Kell.

I want more. More!

Thank you, Sogalon. More will be inbound. :)

Happy new year heathens you just started my 2014 with a massive grin smile.png

I'm having a scotch and watching fireworks and you made the year great

Glad I started ya right, man. :lol: I still got another 10 hours until party time here.

I knew you were heading towards the VIII Legion!

He's a solitary killer. And, as noted before, NOT a Night Lord. You'll find out....

Heathens that is a phenomenal piece smile.png genuinely caught me off guard - I want more haha

Thank you, I'm glad you like it!

Heathens, your bottomless bits box never ceases to make astounding minis.

Alright, censored.gif it- where do I get those voodoo powers? What mountain do I gotta climb? Or at the very least will you divulge where the chainsword on Jhosua and the shield on Kell came from?

Jhosua's blade was a donation from Fenris; the blade from the Wolf box, and the forearm and hilt was once an Iron Priest arm. :P

You want my secret for modeling and story writing? Are you ready...?

http://justbeer.files.wordpress.com/2008/02/mississippi-mud.gif

There it is. Drink two, and call me in the morning.

Perfect combination of fluff and music. Great work Heathens.

Thanks!

Wait, so the Iron Warrior and Night Lord captains are "pre-Astartes?" They are Thunder Warriors, or something in-between of your own devising?

Also, even though you of course didn't name him after me, and how the heck would you know my given name anyways, I am nonetheless immensely pleased to see this Jhosua.

IIRC the older fluff of Mahdra(I think its further back here), the "Pre- astartes" are the very first victimsrecipients of the gene-seed. The very first of the Astartes, the "proto-Astartes".

Kol has it. They were the experiments that were not supposed to survive, and were not expected to as the Emperor's vivisectors shattered and re-knit their bodies over and over, to learn the art of transhuman implantation for the 'proper' first run of Astartes. But survive he did, along with a handful of others. More will be explained in the next story.

And it's a good thing I don't play Thousand Sons, with you throwing your name about, willy nilly. :P

I love it, the fluff is excellent and the models are exquisite. Is there a chance that we will be seeing more Firstborn, possibly from other legions?

'Fraid not. That Mahdra is still alive is amazing. That there is a second Firstborn, practically a statistical anomaly. But, Mahdra was old when the Legions were young, and he has met many warriors in his life, saved many of his cousin's lives, and sworn brotherly oaths with a few. This is what he will be calling upon.....

Excellent inspiration as always! I'm taking notes for when I start my work on my Tenth. Btw, how did you do the mini power fist on kell? Is that an IG fist, if so which?

Cadian. I cut a V out of the base of the thumb and bent / glued / puttied it into a more natural position, and added a touch more leading to the elbow joint.

I'll get into the technical specs when he's finished in a post, but basically it's a Power Gauntlet, not Fist. Counts-as Maul, if you will. Kinda like Captain Tycho's Dead Man's Hand. My version of Astartes-sized brass knuckles. :P

Just freakin wicked, man. Loved every bit of the short and that Crimson Son is flawless. The "heathens' touch" has officially taken root.

Also, you're making the rest of us look bad with all these killer updates. tongue.png

Glad you like it, bro. Now, stop talkin' and catch up. :lol:

There was no Dragoon who was more dangerous than he with fist, blade, or quick-draw with small arms. No one.

Xiphos-Warrant Kell didn't even clear his pistol from its holster before he froze. There was already an elegant blade at his throat, just short of piercing flesh.

Kell's gaze traveled up the length of the Karis Sabre, to midnight blue warplate that had been acid eaten and faded to a battered, lusterless sky.

I got chills. Seriously.

And then I was like:

http://i.imgur.com/0rSDPjl.gif

I'll take that as your stamp of approval. :P

This thread is consistently great both fiction & models. On the other hand, I'm trying to make up fiction for my dudes & I'm regretting choosing the Alpha Legion...

Think less CIA, and more Special Forces. Deliberate Operations, dynamic command kills, etc. The secret squirrel stuff will make you go insane, bro. Kill things instead.

Brother-Chaplain Kage Venerable Brother

Brother-Chaplain Kage

Posted
Posted

I knew you were heading towards the VIII Legion!

He's a solitary killer. And, as noted before, NOT a Night Lord. You'll find out....

I got chills. Seriously.

And then I was like:

I'll take that as your stamp of approval. tongue.png

Indeed. Now, brother...

http://i.imgur.com/pMGvTZW.gif

Archived

This topic is now archived and is closed to further replies.

Go to topic listing

  • Recently Browsing   0 members

    • No registered users viewing this page.
×
×
  • Create New...

Important Information

By using this site, you agree to our Terms of Use.

  I accept