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+++In Memoriam: Update+++

Marshal Rohr

By Marshal Rohr
in + WORKS IN PROGRESS +

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The_Chaplain Venerable Brother

The_Chaplain

Posted
Posted

Dear god emperor, Ancient Levan actually elicited a shocked gasp out of me. Was not expecting a very iconic forgeworld dreadnought to be wearing the iron warrior faceplate.  Good work! It doesn't look like he has the scroll work skulls on the central leg/hip casing. Is that a separate bit, or was clever surgery performed?

 

Very characterful conversions so far heathens!

Hyaenidae Venerable Brother

Hyaenidae

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Thanks, guys. It really means a lot

Love the ML dude, any chance to see the fron of the melta-bomber dude? please?

::::Recovered recording:::Data-Stack 773-22::::Noospheric interface complete:::::processing request::::::DENIED:::::Please input security credentials:::::Credentials detected::::::Processing:::::::Vermillion level clearance accepted:::::Greetings, Praetor Maximvs::::::

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[Pict Capture DX/722-66-63] Legionary Theodos (Sapper)

Marshal Rohr Venerable Brother

Marshal Rohr

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"You look to the skies for the other Legions because you think

there's still hope. The truth is, the only hope you have is to accept the fact
that you're already dead, and the sooner you accept that, the sooner you'll be able
to function as a Legionary is supposed to function. Without pity, without
remorse, without fear. All war depends on it."

-Grenadier-Sergeant Athanaric to

Legionaries Vygo and Amon, recorded posthumously

Part II

OD-Day +2

A
mon’s breath came slowly as he tried to calm his racing mind. He checked his armor’s systems for the fifth time in the past half hour, seeing the slow scroll of information as all systems showed green. His targeting reticule flashed the pale blue of a friendly marker and split into nine diamonds as he turned to look down the trench. The other members of Fourth Squad stood prepping for battle in terse silence. The CXVII had been tasked as line breakers for the offensive, and amongst their golden armor hurried dozens of Imperial Army soldiers moving into their final assault positions. All total, the briefing had said thirty thousand of the men wearing dark greatcoats would follow the Imperial Fists assault. He hoped it would be enough. The traitors had broken through the outer line at Dhwalaghiri and pressed their advantage to the second line of defense, sweeping through the XXII Battalion and killing Marshal Soroyev and most of his men. The warriors who had fought in the line ahead of where III Grenadier was marshaling had died to a man.


The operations order had specified the World Eaters had lead the Warmaster’s forces in to the VII Legions guns, and the reports were gruesome. Tales of Imperial Fists being rent apart by the World Eater’s bare hands and quiet whispers of the XII Legion feasting on the dead passed from Legionary to Legionary. Hundreds of Alemanni riflemen had been found decapitated, their fire blackened skulls piled six meters high. Amon was unsure of how to feel and what he could do to prepare himself for his first real taste of combat against another Legionary. He was physically unable to feel fear, but whatever he felt in its place was unpleasant.

Nazar and Mahesha stood closest to him, helping each other prepare for battle. Mahesha methodically checked Nazar’s pack connections slamming a fist into pauldron with every correct line attached. Nazar was doing a last minute wipe down of Mahesha’s rifle with an oilcloth, removing the pervasive grit that

covered everyone’s armor. He turned to Vygo next to him placing a hand upon his brother’s shoulder.


‘Check me,’ he said. Vygo chuckled and began to tighten Amon’s power cables.

‘It was fine the last time,’ he said with a laugh.

‘You should take this seriously, Vygo. You heard what they were saying. The World Eaters are brutal. I don’t want to die because my armor locked up on me,’ Amon said sternly.

‘You wont die, brother. I’ll be right next to you the whole time. Besides, the captain told Sergeant Athanaric we will be in the second line, mopping up after the first wave,’ Vygo said with a smile. He had earned a reputation as cocksure and lucky in training and Amon couldn’t believe his brother was still so self-confident in the face of the brutality at the front.

‘If I die, Vygo. I’ll kill you,’ Amon said forcing himself to smile.

‘If we go we go together,’ Vygo said, slamming his pauldron twice with the all clear signal.

He checked his systems one last time, each green flash reassuring him slightly. He checked his rifle’s chamber, ensuring there wasn’t a live round ready. He’d be damned if he fired his first round negligently in haste. His newly forged Phobos pattern rifle had significant weight, and he appreciated that. In training he had proved to surpass everyone in his class in marksmanship ratings, and he gave credit to the reliable nature of the Phobos rifle. The heavier point seventy round had a kick, put its punch was enough to give a

fully armor legionary pause. Something he was sure to appreciate soon enough. The survivors of the Shattered Legions had sent back reports on ways to efficiently kill other legionaries, a doctrine Amon was wholly uncomfortable with. He had been classified as Legion Compatible before the first year of Horus' Rebellion, before anyone had even known it had begun. His training had been brief by Legion standards, but thorough. He had done live fire operations against penal slaves and combat servitors, but never faced something like a fellow legionary. As training went on the legion masters increased their hand to hand combat regimes, and the exercises became more brutal than ever before. Amon hoped it was enough.


Sergeant Athanaric moved down the line, stopping to talk to each member of his squad. He paused briefly with Nazar, putting a hand behind his neck and pulling him in so their helmets met and the spar running across the reinforced brow, an old legion tradition of brotherhood. Few of the older legionaries had seen fit to share anything but contempt with Amon or Vygo. The new recruits in the other squads had shared as much as well. No one spoke to them, and no one seemed to even register their presence. During briefings the older men would group together, leaving Amon and Vygo to sit alone at the periphery. Amon had mentioned it to Vygo, but his friend had dismissed it flippantly. He knew it grated on Vygo as well, though he was better at hiding it. Sergeant Athanaric was distant and cold, always quick to reprimand the younger legionaries for the smallest infractions. After sharing private words with Nazar over the vox he turned to the pair.

‘I want you two to watch the older men once we begin the assault, understood?’ Athanaric said bluntly with iron in his voice.

‘Yes, Sergeant,’ Amon and Vygo replied in unison.

‘You earn your place today. Don’t do anything stupid, keep your eyes down range, and don’t get anyone killed, especially yourselves,’ the Sergeant said coldly. He turned without another word and moved further down were two more older men were preparing. Amon heard Vygo absentmindedly grinding his teeth through the proximal vox channel, like he always did when he was nervous. He placed a hand

on Vygo’s pack hoping to reassure his friend, and was gratified with an acknowledging nod. Vygo turned and pulled his helmet in until their foreheads met.


‘Don’t forget, brother. Fifty-Five more days,’ Vygo said on the private channel.

‘I wont. We just have to stay alive,’ Amon replied.

‘You say that like it will be difficult,’ Vygo said with a laugh. ‘How can we die with these salty bastards on our side? You can’t kill a stone.'

‘Five minutes to h-hour, move to the line of advance,’ came the Storm-Captain’s voice through company vox channel. ‘I expect every legionary to make these bastards pay dearly for their treason. Breachers to the fore,’ he commanded with absolute authority.

‘You heard him, fourth squad. Preparatory checks,’ Sergeant Athanaric ordered. The squad fell in, grabbing the pack of the man in front of him. He felt Vygo hook his hand to his collar and reached forward the grab hold of the man in front of him, too late he realized he had extended too far and accidentally hit the back of Mahesha's helmet. The veteran legionary cast a glance over his shoulder at the untested replacement coldly. Amon couldn’t tell if he was laughing or scowling behind his featureless Mark

III helm, but he had been with the legion long enough to know humor was rare in the VII. The first shells of the preparatory bombardment whistled over their heads. The briefing had said over twelve thousand rounds would be expended by the massive multi-barrel earthshaker batteries in preperation for their assault, and he hoped it would be enough. The fiery contrails of Scorpius missiles followed the hypersonic artillery, their afterburner’s serpentine hiss muffled by his auditory filters. Ahead, he could hear the impacts and feel the tremors, as if somewhere deep in the earth a massive and terrible drum had begun a
dirge.


After what felt like an eternity the Storm-Captain’s voice called for the advance. The ground still trembled as the massive artillery batteries increased their bombardment. Terrible fury fell against the captured position in an impenetrable wall of shrapnel and smoke. Amon’s squad climbed the wall and

begin to run across no mans land at combat speed, five meters between each warrior. Vygo stood to his right, staggered back to provide covering fire, his rifle at the low ready. They had crossed the first one hundred meters when the first of fourth squad squad took a hit, the bolt round punching into Absolom’s
shoulder and ricocheting off the reinforced armor. An unnatural roar went up from the enemy position as the shelling stopped and the marble white forms of the World Eaters surged from their foxholes, weapons held high. He saw the first line draw their chainblades and gladius’ in preparation for the change,
closing ranks to form a shield wall.


Fourth Squad took up supporting fire positions behind the openings in the first line, hoping to draw the world eaters into a brutal crossfire if they attempted to flank the breachers. Amon watched as the blood stained berzerkers leapt into the Imperial Fists lines with cries of rage, their chainaxes sparking off the

tower shields. The World Eaters surged into the openings in the line, disregarding their own safety in an attempt to break apart the shield wall. Amon racked his bolter and fired, forcing himself to imagine he was back on the training ranges. His finger lightly brushed the trigger, just long enough to release two rounds. The first round would break the armor; the second would penetrate into the flesh underneath. His target reeled as both rounds struck home, and he was rewarded with a burst of gore as the World Eater went down.

First blood to the VIIth.


They poured on the fire in disciplined volleys, cutting down the warriors outside the melee. The fiery tracers of bolt rounds and the ruby flares of lasrifle fire from the Imperial Army. The veteran Breachers fought with methodical precision, each stab and cut was executed with practiced efficiency. III Grenadier was winning, and Amon’s heart soared. The warriors of the XII Legion were undisciplined, he knew

that much from his studies. Some of the veterans had fought beside them during the Great Crusade, and many burned in silent fury that those they had called friend so recklessly abandoned the warrior brotherhood of the Legiones Astartes. The Storm-Captain was said to have grown close with many of the World Eaters, fighting side by side in dozens of forlorn hope assaults, and his wrath was terrible. No matter how hard he tried, Amon could not reconcile the stories of the brave XII Legion with what faced them now. Bloody hand prints and chained skulls adorned their armor, brutal spikes and runes that made his mind ache covered their white armor plate. The chainaxe, once a symbol of Imperial retribution, was now wielded in the hands of madmen who roared with laughter as they butchered their cousins. The Breachers held, and for every one of their number dragged down, three World Eaters died to their blades. Amon felt joy for the first time since the Siege began, inexperience blinding him to the ephemeral tides of war.


As if fate sought to teach him humility, from the kicked up dust of the melee emerged the monstrous forms of the XII Legion terminator elite. Their massive armor stained crimson and their brutal axes dripped with gore. Instead of attacking the breachers, these red butchers made straight for fourth squad, sprinting at a pace Amon though impossible in their massive armor. They reached Fourth Squad’s position in a matter of moments with a hyper kinetic crack as they barreled into the loyalists. Soldiers were cut down left and right, dismembered limbs and entrails spilling onto the ground. To his right the Malcador that had been covering their advance exploded as a World Eater used his powered axe to cut into the battle cannon, detonating the ordnance within when it tried to fire. Ahead Amon saw Mahesha dodge out of the way of a Terminator before it could barrel into him. He had just enough time to fire before he died to two of the beasts, his head cleaved from his shoulders and right leg ripped from his body. Amon and Vygo synchronized their fire to take down one of Mahesha's murders. Nazar sprinted bodily into the other World Eater, knocking the terminator off balance before he calmly laid a steady stream of fire into a terminator’s soft armor, bursts of gore with every shot that found its mark. The World Eaters went down screaming in rage, and Nazar reloaded his bolter with one fluid motion. Amon saw Sergeant Athanaric cut the

arm from their leader with a flourish, but the monster came on braying like a caged animal, dragging the squad leader into a shell crater. Amon fired, and fired again at any target that he could find. The helot slaves of the traitors came on in a wave, their movements twitching in unnatural fashion. The leapt onto Vygo's back and tried to drag him down with numbers, but he was spared by a fire team of soldiers bayoneting the blood covered cultists. Amon fired at another of the axe wielding Terminators, each shot struck armor, but even his heavy duty rounds couldn't penetrate. He aimed for the soft joints, but the
melee moved to fast for him to fire accurately.

His target disappeared behind the Malcador's burning ruin and he lost focus for a moment. With a sound like thunder his world went black as he felt himself fly through the air. He tucked into a roll and pushed himself to a knee, suddenly aware his rifle was no longer in his hands. Standing over him was one of the terminators, his axe held at his side and Amon's rifle in the other. The World Eater tossed the rifle away and pointed his axe at Amon. The madman laughed manically, pausing long enough for the Imperial Fist to draw his sidearm and fire two shots into the World Eater's faceplate. Shaking his head violently, the beast let out a scream and leapt at him, bringing his axe down like a hammer. Amon moved faster than he

thought possible, the combat stims coursing through his system. He knocked aside the blow with a forearm and struck the World Eater’s faceplate with the butt of his pistol. The beast threw a shoulder into him and knocked him flat, stealing his breath. As he struggled to rise, Nazar appeared from the ordnance haze and emptied an entire clip into the traitor, several shots finding the soft armor. Cursing in the Nagralaki slave tongue, the World Eater threw his axe in defiance, and with a brutal crunching sound the axe cleaved into Nazar’s helm. The veteran’s body fell to its knees and slumped forward, the weight held up by the axe haft buried in the dirt like a man performing the old Arabiyyan prayers.


After the shock wore off Amon got to his feet and retrieved his rifle, quickly reloading before bringing his rifle up and scanning for new targets through the dust. His helmet display showed location markers ahead, meaning he had fallen behind the advance in the fight with the World Eater. He could see the strobing tracer fire illuminate the silhouettes of his brothers and the Imperial Army soldiers engaged in a firefight with the World Eaters and more of their insane human followers. He could hear

the cries of exertion and rage over the vox as the other Imperial Fists fought for their lives against the World Eaters in the fortification network ahead, the grey bulwarks finally materializing in front of him. His targeting reticule flashed Vygo's legionary ident code as he climbed through a bulkhead collapsed by a breaching charge. The World Eaters charged and the Imperial Fists through the fortress corridors and Amon quickly took up a position behind one of the Breacher's shoulders firing into the oncoming rush. The Breachers were cutting them down as they lost themselves to their bloodlust, dropping weapons and leaping at the loyalists with their bare hands. As the World Eaters broke Sergeant Athanaric charged forward, leading the Fists and the soldiers deeper into the fortress. For the next hour, Amon and Vygo fought side by side through the corridors and tunnels of the massive fortification network until the captain's harsh voice came through their helmets.


‘III Grenadier, hold position and prepare for counter attack. These bastards won't give up this ground so easily. Army units and armor are inbound to reinforce, Sappers, rig the trenches to blow if we are overrun, everybody else start reinforcing your cover’ the Storm-Captain ordered over the vox channel.

‘Fourth Squad, on me!’ Athanaric yelled. ‘First section, pair off and execute the wounded traitors. Toss the humans over ramparts, lock the World Eaters in the lower magazine. Second section, join up with the Engineers and help reinforce the defenses while the armor and Titans move up. Third section, start preparing our sector. Clear fields of fire. Vygo and Amon, police the dead for ammunition and supplies. Konstantin and Elias, drag our dead and wounded to the casualty collection point in the dormitory, the Hospitallars are waiting.’ The Sergeant left his section leaders to carry out his orders and went to join the Storm-Captain in receiving orders from CXVII's commander.


After the Sergeant was a safe distance away, Vygo wordlessly slapped Amon on the shoulder and shook his head. They had survived.

+++Pict Capture Archive Database+++

++Karnali Redoubt++

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Pict Capture DX/235-2B-115

Fourth Squad during a firefight against the World Eaters within Blockhouse C129-Rho

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Pict Capture DX/235-2B-113

Legionaries Nazar and Mahesha, VII Legion, Day 2 – Dhwalagiri Counter Offensive

Nazar and Mahesha were two veteran legionaries, each with more than four decades of service before the outbreak of the Horus Heresy. Both had been selected to participate in Grenadier Training after the Compliance at Alesia, where they distinguished themselves in the assault on the Ghal Stronghold. Nazar had twelve confirmed direct actions against the scrap titans of the Orks. Mahesha was likewise honored for three personal combats against separate members of the Ork Noble Caste. Their respective squad leaders forwarded their Legionary Service Packets to Storm-Captain Rohr, who promptly requested both warriors be reclassified as Grenadier and shipped to the Legion Training Facility in the Uropan Wastes, were they underwent the grueling selection process and training regimes of their seniors. Both Legionaries graduated with Honors and were promptly assigned to Storm-Captain Rohr’s detachment. During the Siege both legionaries were slain by an assault from the XII Legion’s infamous Red Butchers.


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Pict Capture DX/235-2B-114 Grenadier-Sergeant Athanaric, VII


Legion, Day 2 – Dhwalaghiri Counter Offensive


Athanaric is one of the oldest serving members of III Grenadier, serving in the first of the Storm Battalions formed by the Legion. He was honored on nine separate occasions, with his highest award being the Black Cross authorized after the Alesian Compliance when he was severely wounded holding the line against an assault from the Ork scrap titans. With over one hundred and twenty years of Legionary Service, Athanaric was selected to lead one of the detachment’s tactical squads. Storm-Captain Rohr believed his experience would keep the replacements alive long enough to contribute. Neither Athanaric nor Rohr could have predicted the horror of the Siege or the intensity of the conflict. Grenadier-Sergeant Athanaric’s corpse was discovered on OD-Day +21 flayed by the Night Lords as bait for an ambush that would cause the most severe casualties to III Grenadier in a single battle before their final confrontation with the Iron Warriors.

Equipment:

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Athanaric weilds a Mark VI 'Paladin' Pattern chainsword. Forged exclusively in the extensive armories of the Phalanx, the Paladin pattern is favored for the high-tension, double sided chain blade and its balanced weight. The cross guard was adopted to better fit with the favored fighting styles prevalent within the Legion, focusing on single combat versus an opponent.


Dosjetka Venerable Brother

Dosjetka

Posted
Posted

Also, there's a high probability of me shamelessly stealing this format when I get more of my Crimson Sons done.

 

I'd like to know if M2C, DP, heathens and noctus would mind if I pinched the format they've been using so far? May sound a bit daft to ask, but I prefer asking than taking and then regretting ;)

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