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Savage Midnight: Armored Up an Rolling Heavy for ETL-Pg.109


Flint13

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What a productivity. Nice dynamic poses on the tacticals and the camo on the recon marine looks real good. I have always liked camoflage on minis, might come from owning a sizeable IG army covered in a splittertarn-looking pattern. Or my army days. I'm not sure.

Ooooooh....Well, first, I need to pick my jaw up off the ground.

 

Second, I need to change my pants, as I ruined them.

 

Thirdly, Throne in flames, those are beautiful minis.

 

I will be watching this with great interest.

Just read through all of these pages of dark beauty and skill. Really impressed and amazes with everything. Well done and keep on amazing us.

 

My only possible comment is with your chain blade attachments. When I attach them I remove the small piece of resin above the motor assemble and they sit much more flush with the bolter.

Good Morning Folks,

 

Big update today. Something I'm really excited about! Today marks the completion of what is (hopefully) the first of several collaborative inter-legionary projects here on the B&C. That will be finished up in part 2 of this post. Here's part one... Painting happened!

 

http://i1290.photobucket.com/albums/b533/Flint1324/PC080003_zps0600dce5.jpg

 

"You wish to know of Madrigal Lyr? I think it may be one of the most impressive stories of the 28th... or the most terrifying depending on who you ask."

 

http://i1290.photobucket.com/albums/b533/Flint1324/PC080005_zpsd473d97b.jpg

http://i1290.photobucket.com/albums/b533/Flint1324/PC080009_zps8feb1ae2.jpg

 

"He never made much of an impression before he left. Third spire hive noble, third rate swordsman, Champion Tertius behind Koal and Crogan. A contemptuous, vicious bastard... but aren't we all?"

 

http://i1290.photobucket.com/albums/b533/Flint1324/PC080006_zpsf675a522.jpg

 

"He stayed with those blasted war-accountants for more than a decade. When they spit him back, he was remade. Not physically, like the Redemptor, but it was a night and dusk difference."

 

http://i1290.photobucket.com/albums/b533/Flint1324/PC080008_zps2ff7b201.jpg

 

"Something happened in those under earth Archaeologies. He went from a third rate swordsman to something almost inhuman. He sent Sokisth back to the mud in a breath, the same day that blue and gold Stormbird vomited Lyr back onto Nostromo. What, you didn't think 7th Claw's old talonmaster just wandered off into the hills, did you? I'm sure he has it all written down in that fratricidal ledger of his. Hah, I suppose another ledger is only fitting considering the legion of his 'education.'"

 

http://i1290.photobucket.com/albums/b533/Flint1324/PC080007_zpsa5ad9741.jpg

 

" If you ever work up the stones, ask after that charm necklace he keeps tucked away in his equipment cache... Or on second thought, maybe not. I'm starting to like you lad. I wouldn't want your stay with the 28th to be cut unaccountably short..."

 

~Sevik Lo, Master of Signal - 28th Company, 8th Legion

And part two... the legion of Madrigal Lyr's instruction...

http://www.bolterandchainsword.com/topic/278452-the-hammers-of-talassar-ultramarines-129th-company/page-9?do=findComment&comment=3556022

The frigid corridors of the training barracks rang with a litany of swift footfalls. The practice
robes of the Ultramarines Moritat snapped at his heels, each resounding as he
strode towards the last training cage of the hall. With one hand firmly
securing the belted weapons to his side, he slammed a single palm into the
ident pad of the door and sneered as a soft, feminine voice returned,



“Please observe proper identifying protocols and retry. Please wait for acceptan…” He cracked
his palm against the panel again, more forcefully this time. Just as he was
raising the heel of his hand to jolt it into the device anew, the voice mollified
his irritation, “Identified, and accepted. Welcome, His most blessed, Lord
Tadras Fidelitas.” The Ultramarine stalked forwards into vestibule of the training cage,
paying it no heed.



A dusky lightlessness greeted him, long shadows cast by the racks of practice weapons
playing across the floor in the dim illumination from the corridor behind. His
own shadow stretched before him, each limb grossly lengthened and distorted in
the gloom. The same hand used so recently for violence darted up to run softly
over the charm braid banded around his thick throat. His fingers traced the
chunky shapes of the trinkets there, as his sneer returned.



“Lights,” His heavy voice speared into the murk. The only response was the surprisingly faint
hiss of the door behind him sealing, plunging the Ultramarine into darkness
absolute. He felt his eyes hyper-dilate as his occulobe struggled to accommodate
some small shred of illumination and his body flooded with adrenaline.



The attack did not come from directly behind, but slightly to the left of his hind, the only
warning a serpentine hiss of flying steel. Diving forward into a roll converted
a decapitating slash into a white hot line of pain across Fidelitas’ shoulders. He transformed the roll into a vicious riposte,
ripping his long steel from its scabbard and sending it humming into a parry.
The resounding clash of rebounding metal hammered into his ears. With a
practiced ease, the Moritat tore the matching short steel from its sheath and
reversed the blade into a low guard.


Attacks thundered off his practice steels, nimble but brutal, most deflecting off and away over Fidelitas’
head, down and away from his ribs. The Moritat struggled to see in the bleak dark. Even fully dilated,
his eyes were fighting to catch slivered glimpses of the incoming blades. His
assailant was fast, faster than him, and the bastard was using full edged steel.
But the worst of it… under the savage grace of the enemy blades, Fidelitas could
see a dark mirror of his own sword technique. Every lunge, carve and parry was dripping with a vulgar, sinuous grace.

But he could still catch the hint of a waistline low guard, and the aggressive, high point of a
trained Evocati warrior.


Even as the thought passed his mind, a gash opened under the plate of his ribs, biting deep into the flesh of his
abdomen just under the hardened black carapace. The Larraman cells of
his bloodstream labored to staunch the sudden flow of vitae. Tadras snarled as he fought off another flurry
of blows.



Theoretical:
With no other variables, this fight would end poorly. His attacker had him at a
disadvantage too critical to ignore.



Practical:
This fight ended now.


With an indignant roar, the Moritat dropped the pretense of defense and lunged into his attacker’s
next thrust. Red agony lanced through his entire left side as a blade neatly
bisected the muscles above his collarbone and exited the Ultramarine’s back in
a spray of crimson. Left hand dropping short steel and closing on the throat of
his attacker, Tadras’ head snapped forward into a ferocious head butt that
sent a second cardinal shower splattering to the floor of the training chamber.
He grinned savagely as he heard the dull thud of a body striking the mat. Long
steel darting down, Fidelitas ended the fight unconditionally.



“Well fought… cousin,” the sibilant whisper was the sound of a whetstone rasping across a
serrated flensing blade. The bloody visage of the grounded Astartes slowly
resolved as the lights of the training chamber cycled to active. Fidelitas'
derision was evident in his expression as he freed the point of his long steel
from the floor of the room. “And so well executed… my first Captain would have
laughed with genuine mirth to see my deception ended so.”



“Your mongrel lord concerns me even less than you, Lyr,” the Ultramarine rounded and marched
towards the exit as it hissed open on well-maintained runners, “Come at me
again like a coward from ambush with edged steels, and I’ll open your hearts
instead of just your face.”



The pointed tips of Madrigal Lyr’s teeth cut sharkish grin through the running blood as he rose
from the practice floor, “Oh… but honored Lord Moritat, you Ultramarines are so fond
of adopting new tactics from those of your devoted cousins,” the smaller
Astartes’ voice was a razor of feigned sycophancy, “and the Eighth has such a
captivating way of bleeding into a man.”



Fidelitas didn’t speak or even pause to collect his short steel as he continued through the door
and paced back down the corridor of the training barracks. As he strode the
halls to the surface, the intermittent dripping of hyper oxygenated blood from his fingertips slowed and

halted as his Astartes physiology did its work. The fitful crimson trail marking his exit from the

training hall had halted several strides past. The only response of the Ultramarine officer as he

paused at the liftgate door was the return of his hand to trace the reassuring outline of the charm braid

about his throat… or would have if it had remained there. The great Tactician Gulliman himself
had declared that Astartes felt no fear, but a glacial jolt ran through Tadras Fidelitas just then.



Deep within the training barracks of the Ultramarines, a lone Astartes of the Eighth hummed
tunelessly to himself as descended into the depths of the facility. As he made the long trek to his spartan room in the heart of the Ultramarine station, he ran his gaze over the charms of an intricate leather choker. The pilfered braid was neatly bisected, its ends bloody and starting to
fray. Madrigal Lyr’s silver smile spread across his face again as the trinkets carved from the thick phalangeal bones of Astartes clinked and rattled through his fingers.

Micro update! A few guys to keep my single painted recon marine company.

Here's the whole gang!

http://i1290.photobucket.com/albums/b533/Flint1324/PC080001_zpse483bc90.jpg

http://i1290.photobucket.com/albums/b533/Flint1324/PC080002_zpscf26a75a.jpg

http://i1290.photobucket.com/albums/b533/Flint1324/PC080003_zps721828ae.jpg

http://i1290.photobucket.com/albums/b533/Flint1324/PC080004_zps4b699aaf.jpg

and the (probably) sergeant of the squad.

http://i1290.photobucket.com/albums/b533/Flint1324/PC080006_zps7bae1c92.jpg

http://i1290.photobucket.com/albums/b533/Flint1324/PC080005_zps2cd27f16.jpg

Replies!

@ Kol - Maybe not *quite* that ambitious, but we're having fun so far. Glad to hear you're excited!

@ Chaplain - Ah, and that's only two of the four. I couldn't squander such cool and unique sculpts on silly *loyalists* msn-wink.gif

@ Vaz - Good to hear, buddy. We do good work.

Gotta think not necessary stealth but covert....doing LRRP....or setting up a forward OP gotta remember not everything would be silence but these marines would cover their tracks why waste a bolt when you can stab the bastard
I know, but covert does mean "not openly acknowledged or displayed". A chainsaw doesn't fit into that. A Bowie knife-sized bayonet(which would probably just be a regular Astartes knife) would fit better in my opinion is all.

 

 

Third picture of the Recon post. Dude's got something in his scope, can't be good for aiming.

 

That just sucks. A mold line IN the scope itself...Wonderful models, but that's crazy.

Its a range finder? :D
Could be a nightmare to sort out.

Evening folks! Let's see what we have here.

 

@ Kol - Admittedly, I felt a little silly even while I was building it. Honestly I just wanted to see what a bolt pistol with a chainsaw bayonet looked like ^_^

 

@ recon - haha, yup

 

@ Chaptermasterdaemon - Good to hear, thanks! No worries, he now has a more reasonable short combat knife.

 

@ helter - seems about right! We're far more stylish than that crazy hillbilly though...

 

@ mikhail - Thanks for the catch! I can't believe he actually got that far before I realized those couple rough spots were still there.

 

@ Warmaster - Yep, not fun to clean up, but not as gawdaweful as it could have been.

 

@ Forte - Nah, just a careful hand and poking myself with a hobby knife a few times.

 

Thanks guys! New stuff soon.

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