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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

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A Pearl, that a Lord might be content to clutch to their breast and encircle with gold. It is this most costly of jewel I say, to none brought forth be precious like to it. It is the regalia of a Monarch true, the prize above all others…

 

The Flame of Humanity. The flittering candle of hope, so comely in ornament, so quick to fall to darkness that it must be guarded with all measure of life expended but to the final breath. It is this Pearl of Mankind that one who weareth the mantle of Imperator Immortal shared in this solemn duty to angels not born of man. A burden like no other, to falter was but an inevitability. One son, he who stared most longingly into the Pearl of Fire, would close his hands around the candle… and in want extinguish it forever…

 

           -  Opening lines of  ‘Elegia Vanitatis’,  the Elegy of Emptiness

 

 

 

 

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It began with our Forebearer. There is an ancient Terran proverb that the sins of the Father weigh mostly heavily upon his children. I cannot help but hold a witless smile as I curse that scholar for their forsight into the greatest calamity to the testament of mankind’s fading legacy.

 

To those of my brothers who played the role of kin-slayer in that ancient act of betrayal, he was known as a Primarch. There are countless titles that have been laid upon the mantle of our father even before his grand treachery to mankind. Across hundreds of Terran script and documentation he was known as the Urizen, the Golden Son, the Mountain, the Voice of Truth, Master of the XVIIth Legion. Once the grinding gears of the Tragedy’s opening began to turn and our species slowly bled to the marrow, he would be known as the Cancer, Herald of the Primordial Truth, The Arch-Traitor, the First Heretic. To his sons, my dearest kindred who followed him into the depths of sorrow before his apotheosis unto the Four Winds, he was deified in the ancient Colchisian tongue of our birthplance ‘Aurelian’. Perhaps as a beacon of light to guide them through the darkness they now drowned themselves in.

 

These are all but titles, symbolism and familiarity, curses and jovial praises. His name was Lorgar, and he is the architect of mankind’s extinction. 

 

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I have never known this man, this ascended demi-god whom I would call my father. Only in worn tapestries and hololithic recordings did I glance upon his avataric features of genetic perfection… before my site was taken from me as but a part of the price paid for my duty. He chose the path of self-exile long before my birth, locked away in flesh from even his own children, seen only once since that time millennia ago by he who bears the title of Warmaster, the one they call the Despoiler.

 

Though these blind eyes that have seen the End of Fire may never gaze upon his golden features, I have felt his heart. In exile, he has contended his immortal spirit to the ethereal tides of Khos, or as the galaxy has known its name in hushed whispers and venomous curses, Chaos. To free one’s soul into the deep sea is to submerge in the very fabric of the divine, to wade in between the planes of the Four in their very essence and see the strands of fate that tie it to the plane of existence we are all bound to. 

 

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I have been there. I have dipped my hand in that deep sea of souls and baptized by the black water. I have known the fabric of Phaos, the Will that weaves the fate of this tragedy that has span across eons into eternity. I have seen the birth of Khar, of Tzeen, of Nurgh and Slaa though these ancient calamities saw each the end of an era and the extinction of stars. Phaos has called for the voice of the Four and it is their chorus that will end this galaxy. I have known this all, but his is a voice most singular that stands apart in this choir of the divine. 
 
There, between the strands of the ethereal I heard the song of his soul, the one I would call father. To describe such an experience would be a failure for the simple limitations of mortal languages. What I can describe is but the crudest of poetry perceiving what is beyond the senses.
 
What I remember most, about that song… was how somber it was. A sable strand of chorus in mourning and elation, the most exquisite dirge that weaved a tapestry of reflection to the sorrow of duplicity and the fires of holocaust. It was the heart of the Ruinstorm known only in legend that cracked the demi-empire of Ultramar in twain. It was the essence of a father’s soul who knew only the pain of loss yet bore it with the solemn duty of one who clings to his own shackles. I gave my voice to his song, and he showed me the Illumination of the End.
 
 
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The Truth. That is all the one called Lorgar every desired, the one I would call my father. In truth, I cannot fault him for this grave weakness, for I know his heart and I know weight it bears upon even his immortal soul. What he earned learned in that darkness, when he touched Phaos, the Primordial Annihilator, was indeed the Truth. It was this same truth that he imparted to me, when our voices met in the choir of the divine, yet the cost of Illumination was no tragedy. I am but a scholar, bound to my duty and my Monarch, the one they call the Ruined King. That is my role in this tragedy, to play the part of the author to a tale that has already been writ in the stars since time immemorial. to put to poetry the end of all things. I am he who will never take to the stage of this great tragedy, though I know its beginning and its eventual finale. His was the part of the opening act, to herald this ‘Truth’ to the galaxy. 
 
Among those of the nine legions that betrayed the Imperium of Mankind, now lost to all but legend, it is known as the Great War of Treason. Imperial Scholars have, throughout time described this moment in history as the Time of Darkness, as the Great Calamity. To my dear brothers, the sons of Lorgar and his legacy of deceit, it is known as the Illumination.. or in ancient Colchisian it is called ‘Khaashy Dah’, the Sunrise. 
 
There is a much cruder term for this opening page in the grand tragedy. The Horus Heresy. 
 
Among many poets, both those who offer fealty to the Immortal Golden God and to the Four Winds, it is a tale of heroism and betrayal, an epic that dawned the birth of the Imperium and shaped the future of mankind forever. It is not. It is but the prelude to the finale of humanity’s part in this great tragedy. This is not a tribute to the monument of the one they call Aurelian and his part as the usurper, nor is it but a simple recording to the valor and depravity of my brothers and cousins who bled on the mosaic floors of distant Terra. 
 
This is an elegy to mankind, the death of humanity. This is the opening scene to the final act where the light of hope became the well of despair.
 
This is the first betrayal, of which all others to succeed pale in comparison. It is in this treachery and death of kinship that the Throne of the Abyss would call of its heir. One son of the Aurelian would take the throne where all others would falter, the one I would come to know as the Crimson Monarch, Lord of Ruination. It is there, on Terra in that scene of treason that he would be anointed as the rightful successor in the blood of one he cherished most. And thus the decrepit gates would part before him to this path of ash and cinder….  his part in this great tragedy. 
 
 
- From the Elegia Vanitatis
 

 

 

 

 

If you wish to see more pictures of Lorgar, click here.
+++Lorgar Aurelian, Master of the XVIII Legion+++

Daemon2027 Veteran

Daemon2027

Posted
Posted
I love the story, the conversion is great, the pose is dramatic but not over the top, the painting gun is good. Is that freehand on the cape, if so amazing. Only criticism the red of the armour looks a little off to me, aill though I must admit I can't really put my finger on what's giving me that impression.
Noctus Cornix Venerable Brother

Noctus Cornix

Posted
Posted

Excellent story, conversion, and paint, Noctis. One of those rare, triple-threat posts that put a nice feather in your cap smile.png

Well thank you, man. That means a lot to me. happy.png

I love the story, the conversion is great, the pose is dramatic but not over the top, the painting gun is good. Is that freehand on the cape, if so amazing. Only criticism the red of the armour looks a little off to me, aill though I must admit I can't really put my finger on what's giving me that impression.

Ha, I wish it was freehand. No, I used a couple of the patterns and runes from the Word Bearers transfer sheet. I think they came out really cool.

As for the armour, could it perhaps be the gold? I admit that I attempted to paint the engravings in the armour gold and then went over the actual armour red before hitting it with a nuln oil wash. I wanted to gold to show through but only partially, but while I genuinely think it looks really nice in person the way the gold shows off depending on the angle you look at, it really just doesn't translate too well in the pictures. dry.png

KrautScientist Veteran

KrautScientist

Posted
Posted

Excellent work on Aurellian, mate! I love how your reposing of the model makes him look more proactive, yet also manages to keep that contemplative quality the stock model has -- quite a nice way of mirroring his development in the BL books! Oh, and this is probably not the kind of praise you are looking for on this particular piece, but the fallen Evocatus on the base looks kinda delicious, with excellent blue and gold -- maybe you should take a look at painting a XIII legion model or two one of these days ;)

  • 5 months later...
Hyaenidae Venerable Brother

Hyaenidae

Posted
Posted

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+ Part VI: The Tipping of Scales +

+ OD-Day (Terra), Plus 290 +



::::::::::Access Request – Ident = Phi-Iota-Lambda-Beta-Three-Seven::::::::::::IDENT FOUND::::::::::Retinal Scan = *******:::::::::::::::::::PASS::::::::::Access Level = Vermillion:::::::::::::::PASS:::::::::Seeking Noosphere Thread 43.4.3.566.192.343.817 ::::::::::Connected – Praise Be:::::::::::::::

WARNING! MORAL HAZARD! Continue? Y/N::::::::::User-Y:::::::::

::::Recovered recording:::Data-Stack 767-201-11::::Noospheric interface complete:::::processing request::::::Granted:::::

+++Multi-Hemisphere Cogitator Decoding Complete... Loading...+++

+++++++++The following is an exscript from the twenty-seventh interrogation of Transhuman Prisoner DCLVMMXLII, captured while buried alive, day 56 of the Scouring of Terra. The following audal transcript is unedited and may contain moral threats, lies, and misinformation, as is the Traitors' want. Remember the Sacrifice, and Honour your Oaths++++++

[interrogation Cell 65, Deck 43, Phalanx, Terran High Orbit. Two subjects, Transhuman. Poorly lit by singe candle upon stone table. Temperature below freezing. Subjects seated at opposite sides, facing. Transhuman 1 noted as Chaplain of I Company, VII Legion, confirmed by armour idents and haptics. Transhuman 2 unarmoured, nude, bleeding and broken, shackled to floor with ten point harness, all honour markings scoured by fire.]

-High Chaplain Ozan Karavoski, The Blind; 1st Company 'Templar', Imperial Fist Legion: Let us begin again. State your name for the record.

-Prisoner DCLVMMXLII, Condemned: Some giant number you tattooed on my neck. Read it yourself, gene-spill.

-Chaplain: I doubt you will survive more motivational encouragement. It will be applied should you show reluctance. State your name.

-Prisoner: [under breath] And again... [lifts voice] I am Eirin Aodoin Mkormik.

-Chaplain: Your gene-seed origin.

-Prisoner: XIII Legion, Warborn.

-Chaplain: There is no such named Legion, and your continued deflection does you no credit. It saddens me to see a son of Guilliman cast off his teachings, and embrace old ways that are better buried.

-Prisoner: My real father is long dead, and his ashes still dance Terra's winds. Guilliman may be a demi-god, but he isn't half the being my father was. Now, stop avoiding, and pose that last question you love to ask oh-so much.

-Chaplain: [Long Pause] Rank.

-Prisoner: [Lifts chin and chest, narrows unswollen eye, smiles with broken teeth] Demi-Warsmith, XO of the Fourteenth Dragoons, Seventh Grand Company, IV Legion. [spits blood at Chaplain, spattering stone table and Chaplain chestpiece / winged cross]. Shek you, traitor.

-Chaplain: [No movement] The only traitor in this room is chained to a floor. [Pause] I will not ask again what kind of madness found a son of the XIII bearing such a disgraceful title, I grow weary of trying to pry different answers from you. As far as I can tell, you truly believe this dishonorable ‘rank’ is something you were gifted with. So instead, I ask only this; why? Why did you forsake your gene-father’s legacy, your Legion, and your oaths, all for a relic of a creature that barely resembled a Legionnaire at all? Whose plan for revolutionary overthrow had such a slim hope of succeeding that the Wolfhounds’ own half-burnt records tactical ratios describe it’s success as minute? What did you really hope to accomplish against such overwhelming odds?

-Prisoner: [Frowns and lowers brow, crosses chained arms] That’s it? Just… why? [sighs] Day after day, I’ve been beaten and battered by those savages in Rann’s Company, and all you want is an explanation of why. Hell, you should have led with that.

-Chaplain: Most betrayals at this point need no explanation. Their sickness is undeniable, their treachery written in the hate in their eyes, and corruption of flesh in some. You and those who threw their lot in with the Firstborn, though, are a curiosity. The hate and implicit violence in your hearts is focused solely on the Imperium and the Emperor. His people, you cherish. You protect. I’ve seen the vid-capts of Hab sector 45-B2-1, and of Refugee Camp Kusha; I saw how many of the Fourteenth died protecting the innocent from Horus’s armies. Clarify.

-Prisoner: [features become shattered stone, leans until chains cut into flesh] Unity. Unification, and the promises that were lies are the reason, you heartless coward. It’s funny how the Emperor’s ambition grew with the size of his armies; when I first joined, willing and proud even in youth, the promise was only Sol, and it’s preservation. The Cradle, rebuilt; the Salvation of the Great Mother. Unity was about broken and rad-scarred cultures standing in solidarity, but instead the Emperor supplanted his ideals above Sol Unified, above humanity itself. Tell me, Imperial Fist, does it do you pride to look from your gilded battlements, and see the starving below, falling straight from the factory into the grave? Do you feel the honest ring of the Imperial Truth, with every trigger-stroke that makes orphans?When did you last walk the slums or underhives? Did you feel any fragment of compassion at all when you did? [slams fists against table] Mankind deserved self-determination of their own fate after Old Night, freedom after thousands of years of slavery. Instead…

[Holds up chains running with blood] We took the chains from our slavers, and in blindness, handed them to new masters. I resist. Humanity will be free again.

-Chaplain: [Emotionless] You speak of Democracy.

-Prisoner: Far more, cousin. I speak of justice and freedom, of standing against horrifying greed which consumes and leaves nothing but death and misery behind, of standing shoulder to shoulder with the common people who work themselves to bloody stumps to make a better life for their children. I speak of the end of tyranny, of aiding those who cannot help themselves, defending those too weak, feeding the poor, simply by embracing our common heritage. I speak of turning away from singular charismatic leaders who ruin and lie and cower, with their machine minds and machine hearts.. I speak of Human Liberation, cousin. And it will be the last word on my lips when your blade falls.

-Chaplain: [Gathers self, laces fingers upon table calmly] You are just another member of the Golem-King’s carnivale of the damned, outcasts and rejects all. Each of you had your reasons, however twisted or noble, truthful or misguided, that led you into your attempted revolution. Yet, you were left with your humanity, despite swimming in filth. I do not care for your excuses specifically; I want to know why the Dragoon-Captain turned against Horus’s hordes, when all was lost for your cause. I want to know why the XIV Dragoons fought your turncoat cousins, when all others of your ilk were running for escape. I want to know what happened at Kasha. I want to know about High Ridge. I want to know what happened to my brothers of the III Grenadiers, of the killing stroke. I want to know what happened to the Dragoon-Captain Phelan Mahdra, and of his end. Everything else is known to us, including the revelation of the VIII Legion ghost. Only the fate remains.

-Prisoner: Everything, eh? [scratching fresh scars on face, then shrugs]. Fine. Why not? Somebody should know how freedom died, might as well get it out while my skull is intact. So, you mention the arrival of the Old Man’s brother of the VIII, but it all really began shortly after that ‘revelation’. Some of the oldest of us, or those with unique knowledge of our combined history, retired to Phelan’s quarters to discuss past, present, and future. We left much of the Squadron to tend to their preparations in a slight state of shock, but their trust in Phelan’s leadership was absolute, despite some reservations. We all had purpose, and I will admit, some hope. Xiphos-Warrant Kell, Phelan’s personal Champion and his spiritual heir, though, did not take the talk of scouring Terra with nuclear fire very well. Bad form, I’d suppose. Phelan didn’t seem surprised at all, when Kell began threatening loudly to take his Lifeguards’ head if he didn’t unbar the Captain’s door. He wanted answers. And lemme tell ye, lad; Kell was about to get much more truth than he would want....

:::::::::Exit File? Y/N ::::::::::: User= Y ::::::Interface Teminated ::::::::: Disconnecting ::::::::::::

::::Recovered recording:::Data-Stack 767::::Noospheric interface complete:::::processing request::::::Granted:::::

[Pict Capture DX/997-76-031] - Eirin Aodoin Mkormik

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+ Time Stamped = OD-Day plus 47 +

Eirin Aodoin Mkormik, Demi-Warsmith, XO of the Fourteenth Dragoons, Seventh Grand Company, IV Legion. Warborn.

　

Dosjetka Venerable Brother

Dosjetka

Posted
Posted

Having looked at the pictures again, my only bits of criticism would be 1) there's a tad too much mud on his legs but that's very much down to personal taste and what impression you're trying to convey to the viewer, and 2) he looks very... well, dull and I think it's a shame. A couple of small edge highlights towards the top of the model which isn't so covered with muck would do wonders (though I'm guessing "dull" is the overall effect you were going for anyway).

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