+++In Memoriam: Update+++

[GhostMalone]

Dude tutorial me for these modelling poses

[Olis]

Dramatic and characterful. Just one model has me impressed already, brother. More of the same, please. :)

[GrandMagnus]

It seems I have a lot to learn about posing my minis haha.

[Artos]

Lupercal, Lupercal,

Alright You dogs!Charge!!!!!!

<Do we have any Night Lords>..

Lets go capture a few Loyalists and skin then alive

then Nail their corpses to crosses....(As a FEAR TACTIC...)

[Hyaenidae]

http://wh40k.lexicanum.com/mediawiki/images/8/86/Sharkassaultboat.jpg

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=anX0r8R1EQI&feature=player_detailpage

+ Part II +

+ OD-Day (Terra), Minus 3 +

There was a vast serenity in the last minute prior to impact and engagement. Brother Ruolas always enjoyed those rare moments; cherished them, even. Behind his sealed Mk. II helm, the silence stretched out, and felt like hours. The echo of his own calmed breathing patterns, the light buzz of he and his fellow Dragoons' active warplate, the hiss of the open vox like a light wind against his ears. Sometimes, he would hear the Unbreakable Litany in rasping whispers, the familiar sound warming his hearts. Other times, someone humming a Legion march, like 'Blood on the Iron'. It was familiar, these sounds; the eye of the storm. Of course, the peace was a fallacy. Outside the hull of the Shark Assault Boat, the heavens were aflame from one end to another, as the greatest naval conflict in known history took place. The kraken-sized fleets loyal to the Warmaster were busy sweeping the skies of any and every ship loyal to the Throneworld, in preparation for the landings upon the crown jewel of the Imperium, Terra herself. None of this mattered to Ruolas, nor could be seen or heard. Only the peace within the cramped bay, and the mission to come. The Dragoon's target was the IX Legion Cruiser The Grace of Angels, with it's capture or death as the objective. Holding her corridors and launch bays were rumored to be the CVIII Azvaran; the elite swordsmen and hand-to-hand fighters of the Blood Angels. In the tight-packed corridors of a Legionary Cruiser, such a force would be absolute murder to put down.

'Going to be a long day', thought Ruolas.

Any further introspection was suddenly interrupted by a shudder passing through the hull, as the Shark boosted forward; a sure sign that impact was imminent. The lights in the bay switched from green to amber, warning the occupants. At the nose of the craft, Breachmaster Lowell stood, and howled out "One minute! Stand and hook!". The forty-four Iron Warriors sitting in four long benched rows got to their feet, kicked their benches up to a locked position, and attached a bracing tether from their shoulders to the corded cable above each of their rows. The tether would keep each Legionary from landing square on their face during impact; such an event could have disastrous consequences to those behind him during the disembarkation while under fire. The cable itself would be pneumatically sheared as the boarding ramp lowered, releasing the tethers. The Breachmaster then tapped his shoulders, "Check Equipment!", again in the raspy vox-howl of his augmented throat. Swiftly, every man checked for loose plate, ensured grenade pins were wax-sealed, blades were locked, weapons were locked on 'safe'; With the same practiced movements, each Iron Warrior checked the man in front of him, ensuring the same safety measures across his fellow brothers' blind spots of their rear plate. The Loadmaster pressed his hands to his ears, the visual gestures aiding those who could not hear over the screaming ram jets and the rattling of every beam on the assault boat. "Sound off for equipment check!" Starting from the last men in each row, the Legionary tapped the helm of the man in front of him, yelling "OK!" to the next. Down the line it went, until the first men in each row, including Ruolas, yelled out in unison, "All OK, Breachmaster!". Lowell lifted a single finger on one hand, and spread all five on the other, "Fifteen seconds! Brace and lock!". Every man aboard faced the ramp, spread their legs in a braced position to absorb the crushing strike of their ride hitting a warship at terminal velocity, and engaged their magnetic plates in their boots, locking themselves in place.

No sooner than the last Legionary settled in place, the world shook, as if one of the old Gods of Olympia had taken the battered old ship in it's ethereal hand and had rattled them about like dice inside of a tin can. Ruolas's teeth clicked together over and over, his brain rattling about his skull, his organ-packed chest cavity vibrating hard, the muscles in his legs straining to keep him erect, despite the safety restraints. Over the din, Ruolas could hear a whump whump whump as consecutive melta charges studded along the front of the hull detonated again and again, pushing the Shark deeper into the Grace of Angels guts. Though his sight was blurred from the shaking, he could see the Breachmaster lift a storm shield to his shoulder with his left hand, his right raised in the air, the fingers falling into a slow fist with every passing second. The gruff old bastard was practically screaming now, to be heard. "FIVE. FOUR. THREE. TWO. ONE." His hand dropped, and the hull stopped shaking suddenly, as the ship braked hard, as if obeying Lowell's command. A crunch could be heard as the ramp cracked open, severing the safety cables overhead, the cords quick-winding into a spool at the back of the ship's bay. Breachmaster Lowell called out one last time, "Breachers to the front, Cannae Pattern! Iron Within!". Ruolas and his brothers yelled back "Iron Without!", their breaching shields slamming into their shoulders, their bolters slotted and safeties snapped off. The bay's lights switched to red, the ramp before him fell, and Ruolas and his brothers beside him took their first steps forwards in concert.

Walking directly into a horizontal firestorm that was so strong, it forced he and his brothers to take an involuntary step back.

　

+++ To Be Continued +++

::::Recovered recording:::Data-Stack 767-12::::Noospheric interface complete:::::processing request::::::Granted:::::

[Pict Capture DX/997-101-00941] - Breachmaster-Sergeant Lowell

OD-Day plus 18

　

Breachmaster Lowell was renown amongst his Legion for the taking and holding of the most violent and heavily contested breaches and boarding actions during the course of the Great Crusade; his shining achievement being the breach-kill of the monsterous Kine Warlord of the Gazdakk Clan, despite having lost an eye and his lower jaw to it's massive rusted axe. His skull a ruin, Lowell shattered it's knee with his expended power maul, climbed upon the greenskin's chest, and smashed in it's skull with repeated blows of his caved-in helm, causing it's followers to break and flee directly into pre-plotted artillery grids. During the course of the Rebellion against Terra, Lowell continued to show such conviction and resilience against the defenders of the Palace. Struck and pierced by a heavy bolt on OD-Day Plus 6, Breachmaster Lowell fought on despite his primary heart and one of his lungs destroyed, and suffering from severe internal bleeding. He finally collapsed on OD-Day 26 in the Gyachung Pass, his transhuman frame simply unable to carry him any further.

[Brother-Chaplain Kage]

Great story, Heathens, and it's interesting that I was messing around with that very same base figure earlier tonight.

[Dosjetka]

I love the backstory of Lowell, very well written and captivating. The model looks brutal (in a good way) and fits the description of the character like a glove.

[Noctus Cornix]

Great stuff, Heathens. The torso conversion might take me a bit to get used to, but I think this will look a lot better when he's painted.

[Dragonkin Arenis]

Wonderful work as usual Heathens! I like the use of that classic model - very Iron Warrior-y - and Breachmaster Lowell's backstory is stellar.

 

One question, though - how did you get the backpack to sit on the model? I have one of these on my worktable and I just cant get it to sit flush thanks to the haft of the power maul. Did you cut away part of the haft or build out a little with gs?

[Tyrannicide]

Great stuff, man. The short was very evocative, nice details.

 

I agree with Noctus though, the chest plate is unusual. I'm sure you'll pull it all together when he's clad in Iron!

 

 

++++

 

To those who responded to my latest WIP shot, thank you all for the compliments. His identity will be revealed during a featured story after he's been finished. ;)

[Olis]

Just so you know, Heathens, pretty much every picture of every model you create gets saved into a folder where other bare (but impressive) conversions go. Highly inspiring. ^_^

[Hyaenidae]

Thanks for the comments, guys. I admit, the angle of the pic is a touch off, but it was late as hell when I posted the update, and I was tired as all get-out, so I just said 'hell with it.'

 

@Noctus: Again, I think the angle is off, but yeah. Paint, and this fella is gonna rock. I'm actually pretty proud of him.

 

@Dragonkin: I used the shortened backpack from one of the new DA kits; I think from their new crazy looking speeder. Fit like it was meant to be.

 

@Oli: I'm honoured, brother.

[GhostMalone]

That's one boss looking marine brother love the demo charge ;)

[Brother Heinrich]

Awesome stuff Heathens, definitely showing your Airborne roots with that story, loved every minute of it. Model is awesome and full of character as well, can't wait for paint.

[Hyaenidae]

My roots are Armored Cav. Airborne is just a branch of my death-dealing capabilities.   :devil:

[Dragonkin Arenis]

Just checked a bits website - the backpack included in the Land Speeder Vengeance kit is smaller than normal. Thanks for the heads up - definitely ordering one when they're next avaliable. Loads of stuff in the Vengeance kit that I fancy for my marines.

[GhostMalone]

Heathens I must ask did you ever deploy with the 2/14th Australian light horse regiment? Armoured cav

 

Mainly utilising ASLAV'S and bushmasters?

[Vazzy]

Well that disembarkation scene was a very deja vu moment for me. Excellent work Heathens

[Adeptus-Alaska]

Wow heathens......I have some catching up to do. that guy is epic.

[Hyaenidae]

+ Part II (Continued)+

+ OD-Day (Terra), Minus 3 +

The team exiting the Shark Assault Boat put their physical weight into pushing forward. Over the vox, every NCO in the Tactical sections were yelling for swift forward movement before they died without disembarking; every NCO amongst the Breachers at the front were too busy grunting in effort, trying to stay on their feet. Step by step, Alpha literally pushed each other through the still-glowing hole in the hall, into what looked to be an Honourium Hall aboard the ship. Armoured soles tore gouges into the white marble tiles under their feet, as Alpha finally cleared their transport and spread out amongst gold-plated statues and fluted columns that shattered under their owner's ricocheting bolt rounds. Breaking out into the Cannae breaching pattern, half of the Breachers went left, the other half right, the Tactical squads with their attached Sapper elements close behind, their heads down below the height of the breaching shields protecting them. The center was intentionally left thin, but not obviously so; it was supposed to entice their abusers, who Biehn had not even seen yet, the boarding shields of his brothers blocking his sight as well as the IX Legionaries incoming fire. 'Don't keep me waiting, you red-plated bastards', thought Biehn, ready to move on with the second part of their assault, the reason he was here; planting a series of explosives in the Angel's magazine bays.

　

Barely had he thought it, then Biehn got his wish. Seeing the opportunity, the most of the CVIII Azvaran pushed out from their cover, rushing the weak section of the Breacher wall, only a handful remaining to lay down covering fire. A split second before the Blood Angels hit the shield wall, the center Breachers stepped back and swung in, like the gates of a fortress, letting the Angels rush past. Biehn saw his foe for the first time: the CVIII Azvarian Assault, known as The Heaven's Blades. Respected and feared for their bladework and close-quarters capabilities, their plate covered in intricate frescos, and delicate inscriptions and sculptures inlaid with gold leaf and priceless jewels. Their weapons matched in beauty, all silver plated tulwars, scimitars, and sosun pattahs with jewel studded golden pommels and crossguards, corded in rich red and blue silks. Magnificent warriors, all. For a moment, Biehn almost felt bad for the suffering that he and his brethren were about to unleash upon them. Almost.

The Azvarian's rush slowed, as they realized that their aggression had led them into a serious predicament. Tactical Support squad (Rotor) ensured it was so. Ten rotor cannons, with support fire from Tactical Squad 2's twenty bolters, turned Biehn's vision of perfect Champions of the Imperium into a hazed blur of flying ceramite chips, tracer fire, and misted blood. Those Breachers who had swung inward added fire into their flanks, their shields still tight into their shoulders so as to protect themselves from the stray rounds of their brothers. The Angels jerked and twisted, like puppets on strings being jerked about, as rounds shredded their gorgeous plate and perfect flesh beneath, and deformed and shattered beautiful helms in sprays of blood, sparks, and brain matter. The support squad advanced, weapons still pouring adamantite-jacketed hell into blood red plate, as the tacticals followed, coldly dispatching any survivors they found with quick stabs or single bolts. Before the Alpha Team had a chance to move any further, or begin advancing towards the Grace of Angels' heart, Veteran Sergeant Myndova overrode the vox, with the worst possible news.

"One-zero Cataphractii inbound, with close quarters support, estimate forty plus . Plate your hearts in Iron, brothers, because this is about to get interesting."

'Fug', thought Biehn.

The second wave of CVIII, spearheaded by the Terminator-plated Angels, literally waded through fire that not even moments ago had ruined twenty five of their kind. Too quickly, the Dragoons were forced into close quarters fighting, IX Legionnaires grappling and pushing away boarding shields, slamming platinum scimitars into unadorned Iron plate, and shattering any form of gunline they once had. Corporal Biehn found himself at the edge of the thrashing pit of red and silver, with a clear line of sight at one of the lightning claw armed Terminators. He racked the slide on his Khalus-pattern shotgun, feeding one of the ultra-rare Olympian slag-shells into the breech. Lining up and taking the shot, Biehn squeezed the trigger, unsure of how much longer he would get with the melee heading his way. The slug caught the Cataphractii in the left side, just below the arm, with a crack of superheated air and a magnesium-white flash, dropping the gigantic red form. Biehn's triumphant smile faded, as the Angel regained it's footing, despite missing an arm and having a glowing red crescent taken out of his smoking body.

Before he could take a second shot, Biehn suddenly felt lightning shooting up his side, and heard the crack of his fused ribcage giving way, and the violent tearing of important organs. An Angel's mahaira was buried deep into his torso, it's owner artfully modified Mk. VI plate straining to tear it out. Biehn slammed the butt of his weapon into the conical helm before him, chipping the golden wings crafted into it and shattering an eye lens. As the Angel fell back, he finally succeeded in tearing his wide blade from Biehn's torso in a rush of blood, giving him a chance to put the bastard down hard. He racked another round into the chamber, but when he went to raise the shotgun to his shoulder, one of Biehn's brothers slammed into his back, throwing his aim and causing him to discharge the weapon wildly into the melee. At the heart of the fight, another migraine inducing flash and a gargled scream told him he had hit, and thankfully none of his heartbeat monitors tracked inside of his helm flatlined, telling him he had at least hit an enemy.

Biehn racked the shotgun again to make a second attempt at killing his foe, but was struck across the face by a flying shattered iron helm, then again from behind by an unknown force that blew out his knees, dropping him on his face. Rolling over, blinded by pain and weak from blood loss, he fired the primed weapon at the looming red blur over him. Flash. Scream. Another slamming weight across his knees as the IX Legionary fell on top of Biehn. Pinned down, and being trampled by both friend and foe alike with grinding stomps, Biehn opened his vox and screamed in frustration. "Where in the nine hells is our damned support?"

"Good things come to those who wait, son.", came an emotionless, vox-strangled response.

　

The ceiling suddenly shattered inward with titanic force, as another Assault Boat tore into the Honourium at a poor angle. Astartes fell as shards of shrapnel kicked out, the impact knocking transhumans from their feet. The chevroned ramp fell open, and a half-dead IV Legionary fell out. Slamming into the marble floor with shattering force, Ancient Levan, The Firebrand of Augustaus II, The Spire Breaker, made war against his foes as only a warrior interred in a Dreadnought hull can. Levan swung out a claw, the heavy flamer built into the bladed digit's knuckles sending four Angels away ablaze, completing the swipe in the torso of one of the Cataphractii, sending the giant skittering across the floor, utterly caved in. His other arm, ending in a twin-linked heavy bolter, came to life, walking fire across every single IX warrior in sight, as the Dragoon's who still were combat capable hit the deck. Levan was laughing, a sound similar to a burnt out engine trying to turn over. 'Come to me, false Angels, " his voxcasters blasted out, "Come to me and recieve judgement!"

Biehn ignored the Old One's words, trying not to think of how Dragoon-Captain Mahdra's odd faith had been welcomed by the oldest of the XIV so readily, and instead concentrated on trying to get the Astartes corpse off of him. Not caring who heard him, Biehn snarled. "I'll be damned if I'm going to die, listening to a religious nut howling about an imaginary God, and pinned by a dead Angel..."

::::Recovered recording:::Data-Stack 769-44::::Noospheric interface complete:::::processing request::::::Granted:::::

[Pict Capture DX/846-2-0023] Legionary Tol Aruk (Tactical)

[Pict Capture DX/723-0-6502] Legionary Ruolas (Breacher)

[Pict Capture DX/65-9-3223] Veteran Legionary Riauguez (Seeker)

[Pict Capture DX/0102-433-1] Ancient Levan, The Spirebreaker

[Pict Capture DX/563-222-103] Unknown Legionary, IX Legion Astartes, Deceased (Head trauma, total)

[Pict Capture DX/997-7-2373] Information Forthcoming

1st Platoon (Sapper), XIV Dragoons, IV Legion: Preparing to breach Bastion 91/Echo

1st Platoon (Breach), XIV Dragoons, IV Legion: Crossing Ganggzhou Waste-Floodplains

XIV Dragoons, IV Legion (Various): Holding Revetment 66-12 from IX Legion Counterstrike

[kapturowski]

Keep 'em coming! :)

[Brother Aiwass]

You're working fast Heathens! Very cool stuff!

[GrandMagnus]

So much awesomeness in that right there. I love the whole "opening the lines" strategy to just massacre those blood angels. And the minis are excellent Heathens.

[Olis]

Interesting little detailing on The Spirebreaker, Heathens. However, I would have armed him with a multi-melta, I think, as a personal preference. Like Maximvs said, you do indeed work fast. ;)

[Captain Semper]

Guys this is an awesome thread. You are putting tons of effort in it and shows. It is also pretty original to have a common blog/project and themed it so well. It is a real pleasure to watch it develop and can't wait for the next update.

@ Heathens: Turning to the IV was a truly inspiraitonal move - it just suits you!