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+++In Memoriam: Update+++

Marshal Rohr

By Marshal Rohr
in + WORKS IN PROGRESS +

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Noctus Cornix Venerable Brother

Noctus Cornix

Posted
Posted

http://i421.photobucket.com/albums/pp299/spencertrimm/reaver.png


 


Are you awake yet?.. Of course you're not. You are still blinded by ignorance, still yet clinging to the masquerade of lies that shroud that hell.. There was no glory to be had on Terra, no victory worth mention, no prize beyond the count of grief... There was only pain and suffering.. And the hounds of hell that howled in the red night...


 


 


++Loading.....+++


 


++Pict Capture Cluster 217/BG32++


 


++Opening Capture Cluster++


 


http://i915.photobucket.com/albums/ac352/Noctus-Cornix/20150116_013207_zps9ac1bc42.jpg


 


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http://i915.photobucket.com/albums/ac352/Noctus-Cornix/20150116_013154_zps9569b5ba.jpg


 


 


++ERROR++


 


+ERROR++


 


++Pict Feed Corruption++


 


++Scrap-Code Virus Detected++


 


++Attempting To Purge...++


 


http://i915.photobucket.com/albums/ac352/Noctus-Cornix/8b4b7a93-e43e-4045-b44c-206da3171ea8_zps4c122d79.jpg


 


http://i915.photobucket.com/albums/ac352/Noctus-Cornix/e0ca8949-e2d4-4258-910c-018dd123d441_zps43b46fc7.jpg


 


 


++Scrap Code Virus Purged++


 


++Pict Feed Cluster Terminated++

Wicced Venerable Brother

Wicced

Posted
Posted

i love the new jump guy, pure understatement :tu:

not sure about the other 2 guys, combi melter dude looks like he's falling forward or stumbling and the axe man looks ace from the front, but something looks strange from the side. i can't put my finger on it, but i think it's something with the groin plate and the foot posing. just my 2 flayed skulls msn-wink.gif

keep up the good work!

Noctus Cornix Venerable Brother

Noctus Cornix

Posted
Posted

Thanks, guys. I really appreciate the feedback.

 

Karack, as Wyvern said. The axe is from the MK IV weapons pack.

 

Wicced, the legas are untouched so for the guy with the axe, I blame forge world.. and probably a bit on me for not bothering to change it. But I just love the way he looks from the front, that calm imposing stride. As for the combi-melta, well I don't quite see what you're saying. He's about to jump forward with a burst from his jump pack.

  • 4 months later...
  • 8 months later...
Hyaenidae Venerable Brother

Hyaenidae

Posted
Posted

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<iframe width="854" height="480" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/0MddfW-j40c" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>

+ Part V +

+ OD-Day (Terra), Minus 1 +


....Another Firstborn....Another Firstborn.....

As Phelan and Vall broke from their brotherly greeting, the shocked silence that had settled around them broke as well. Every Officer and Non-Com of the XIV Dragoon stared at this newcomer with fresh, awe-lit eyes; hushed words shot from Legionnaire to Legionnaire; Another legend of Old Earth, another broken child-monster of the Veiled Age. The mathematical probability of this eventuality was weighed heavily askew from potential possibility in the steel trap minds of the IV Legion mentality, yet here this VIII Legion warrior stood before them, defying the overwhelming statistical odds. Voices began to raise, questions asked and answers demanded. The equation was not logical. In the obsessively clinical mind of a Iron Warrior, such an equation could not stand without challenge.

“Silence.”

Dragoon-Captain Mahdra's gravely command suffocated the chatter, murdering stillborn questions in a voice that brooked no disagreement. He turned slowly to regard his men with eyes pooled in darkness, his shattered granite face cut into ever harsher lines beneath the sodium lights above, and the shadows below that stretched out between the Malcador tanks that surrounded their meeting point. The motor pool was still moving like a living creature in the distance, the sounds of a Grand Squadron preparing for their last war filling the vast bay with the echoes of a million different sounds, blended into one orchestra of imminent death. Phelan's voice, though, had slashed through the din with a timbre of a roaring furnace muffled by iron walls.

That voice returned now, refocusing the attention of his kith and kin. “My brother Vall is not the only one who answered the Oath-Bonds and Vows sworn on long dead battlefileds. Some are fellow IV Legion warriors, other Grand Companies and Batteries who stand with us. Others are from allied Legions and regiments, those who move beneath the corrupt skin of their broken ranks, trying to turn this rebellion into the light and away from the sickness that has consumed it.”

Phelan paused. “Some...some hail from the ranks of our foes. They broke ranks, in the name of honour, and old vows sworn. When you greet them, give them your complete respect. They have surrendered everything to be here, and are now marked men in the eyes of their gene-kin and fellow warriors. Embrace them as lost brothers and sisters.” Phelan's eyes turned to the darkness behind him between where the armoured leviathans slept, to the buzzing, rustling shades that moved ever closer in the shadows. Dozens of them.

“Come forth.”

Men, women and transhumans stepped into the weak light, their plate and uniforms hailing from nearly every Legion in singles and groups, from hundreds of different regiments and militias, from Forge-Clades, from Knight Houses of noble and impure blood, from resistance cells spread across Terra and many other systems as well; even the Collegia was present, a handful of Princeps of no single order standing in a loose group. Outcast Black Shields stood alongside a feral pack of VI Legion Destroyers, their carbon-scored and patched plate contrasting with the noble pearl and platinum of a single Palatine Blade, proud and alone. The blue skies of Macragge alongside the matte chemoline of the Cadejo. The monks robes of distant Caliban. Honour markings of the Wind Horse Ordu, elaborate and elegant in design. Mirror coins rattling across sea-green armour. A tall, battered vexilla of the 98th Solar Auxilia. The worn and scarred ash-grey carapace of a Bjaha Sur Bond-Company. The high-born silver and forest green of the Allonian Watch, polished and war-ready. The dirty rags and pieced together tactical gear of the Free Dominion rebel movement. The Burning Book of the Imperial Truth. A lightning-struck star, the last of it's bearers. A flash of something not... human. Too nimble, too thin.

So many more, more than could be counted in the shadows; A carnivale of the dead and damned, oath sworn and broken. That so many had turned away from their Primarchs, Lords, and masters, in favor of Phelan, was simply staggering.

Phelan returned his sight to his brothers, his gaze intense, and addressed all who could hear. “With our allies assembled, we now have a singular chance to end this war on our terms. Each of you will receive a full briefing in detail soon, but here are the basics; we will land as ordered, so as to draw as little attention as possible. After creating a beachhead, each detachment will be assigned targets, ones that will draw the speartips of every Legion towards each other, with the Eternity Gate as the primary focus. Considering this is the Endgame, each of the Primarchs will be unable to resist being at the head of the assault, desperate with their guilt and bitterness. Our task on the ground will be to draw these targets into a 100 kilometer killzone...”

A clash of voices, rising above the Dragoon-Captain's. Anger and incredulity laced every word. Xiphos-Warrant Kell's voice was the loudest of all, but spoke the question that alarmed them so.

“A hundred klicks? What on Old Earth are we doing that requires a buffer zone that size?”

Phelan's eyes turned downwards, his gnarled and ridged brow casting his visage into shadow. “Some of you may have noticed the recent radiation spikes over the last few weeks, as supply ships have been docking. This is because the Sword of Khamael is host to five thousand three-stage thermonuclear explosives, each with a three-hundred megatonne yield and built-in xenos-crafted kinetic teleporters to pierce void shields.”

A deathly silence descended; the reality of what they were about to commit to weighing upon every heart.

Phelan Mahdra, Son of Terra, Firstborn of the Legiones Astartes, the Emperor of Mankinds' first Grandchilden, was going to end the Age of False Gods, by murdering his Father, Uncles, and Grandfather, and every cousin touched by darkness, in void enclosed nuclear fire.

And by turning Terra into radioactive ash.

+++ To Be Continued +++

============================================================================================

::::Recovered recording:::Data-Stack 16-29322::::Noospheric interface complete:::::processing request::::::Granted:::::

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[Pict Capture DC/997-01-32] - 2nd Squad, 2nd Platoon (Breach)

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[Pict Capture DC/565-0194] - 1nd Squad, 2nd Platoon (Breach)

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[Pict Capture DC/348-090] - Ancient Galatan, the Architect

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[Pict Capture DC/348-0912] - 1st Talon, 1st Platoon (Heartbreaker)

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[Pict Capture DC/556-007] - Senior Apothecary Acadius (Warrant)

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"We Stand, as long as the Squadron Colors fly. Give no quarter, give no ground."

[Pict Capture DC/556-007] - Color Guard Aedh, XIV Dragoon Command

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