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Khorne's Eternal Hunt - KrautScientist's chaotic WIP thread: Fine-tuning Eightbound...

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Again, thanks a lot! :)


And since the fluff seems to have gone over fairly well with you, let me show you another mix of an actual model and the background to the character represented by it. This time, I'd like to show you Lord Captain Lorimar, the Master of the Hunt, and supreme Commander of the World Eaters' 4th assault company:


“You fools! Your gods have blinded you with visions of glory and power, of a golden future that awaits you in their service. But our lord has shown us more than you could ever imagine. There are no empires awaiting you. In the endless cold between the stars, there is only the hunter and his prey. And those who were once the former and are now the latter. All that remains is the hunt, for only the hunt is eternal.”










Truth be told, this guy took me ages to get right, and now that the model has been built, I imagine it'll take me ages to work up the courage to finally go and paint him! :D




The battle was over. The red haze of anger had dispersed, once again leaving nothing but a dull emptiness.

Lorimar gazed across the barren wasteland that had been the stage for the last fight. He felt that a very similar wasteland lay hidden within himself.

Andrakhas was dead. Lorimar himself had slain the warlock and bagged the prey. He could still see Andrakhas’ body in the distance, burning in a multi-coloured fire.
Lorimar and his warriors had advanced through the Thousand Sons’ hail of fire. The Rubric Marines’ firepower had been superior, but in the end, it had not been able to save them from the wrath of Khorne’s servants.


Lorimar gazed at the helmet he was holding in his massive, armoured gauntlet. Whatever may have been left inside the suits of armour had escaped with a dry rustling when Andrakhas died. Lorimar stared into the empty eyesockets as if they might provide an answer. Ghostly automata, slaves, damned to an eternal cycle of war and death. Was there a reason for this? He did not know. Neither did he know who had been the winner of today’s battle after all. The prey had been run down. That was all that mattered.


One last moment, then Lorimar closed his armoured fist and ground the helmet to a fine powder, trickling through his fingers. “All is dust”, Lorimar growled, “all is dust indeed.”


For those of you who would like to learn more about the lengthy process of getting this model just so, check out this blog post.


Your feedback's always welcome of course! Thanks for looking and stay tuned for more!

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Great work, I do have one criticism though.


Do you plan on weathering these guys? Their armour looks incredibly clean and unblemished.


I can appreciate the fact that you may desire that appearance, but the World Eaters have been wearing the same suits of power armour for thousands of years (without removing them usually), and they're not the kind of Marines that would care for their gear.


The paint job is great, but I feel such cleanliness would more suit a Loyalist chapter than blood-crazed maniacs. Just my opinion!

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  • 2 weeks later...

Happy new year, everyone ;)


First of all, thanks a lot for the kind words, guys!


@ fore: Ah, mate, I think it'll take more than my gushing praise to make Ron return to blogging, although I still hope he will -- eventually.


@ teblin: You are quite right with your observation: My World Eaters almost completely lack any battle damage, weathering etc. Not because I dislike those effects, mind you: I regularly use them on my other projects. For this army, however, it was a deliberate aesthetic choice not to feature a lot of weathering: I wanted the models to sport a very reduced, effective colour palette (red and bronze for the armour, the pale skin, and silver for most of the weapons. Turquoise appears as a spot colour on those models that wield daemon weapons). I think the palette I chose is rather effective, and I believe weathering could have detracted from the overall effect in this case. For the same reason, I didn't add more blood ;)


In the end, though, it always comes down to personal preference, of course. But it was a deliberate decision after all ;)



So, since some of my fluff seemed to be reasonably well-received, and since coming up with a suitable background for this army is really at the very centre of this whole project, let me share some additional fluff with you. This stuff was written to accompany a campaign I played with my cousin and a couple of his buddies, and even though the campaign itself has more or less petered out, it was still supremely helpful in getting an idea of the various characters in my army instead of just seeing them as mere playing pieces. A word of warning, though: Since these background pieces were written in order to flesh out the story between battles, they may be a little short on actual action, so proceed at your own risk ;)


The stage for our campaign was the world of Haestia Primaris, by the way, a planet within the Segmentum Pacificus. The planet had been isolated from much of the rest of the Imperium of Man by the warp storm Maluriel for some fifty years, and it had taken all the power of the authorities to keep the planetary population in line in the face of adversity. When the tides of the Empyrean calmed, what should have been a joyous occasion for the people of Haestia Primaris took a turn for the worse, as several sinister forces arrived to lay
claim to the undefended world.




One subplot had a fragile coalition of Craftworld Eldar and their dark kin defending an ancient Eldar weapon of mass destruction against Khorne's Eternal Hunt. The World Eaters had their eyes on the prize, however, considering it a worthy trophy...




Huntmaster Bardolf stood on the precipice, looking down into the valley. Among the ruins, overgrown with dense vegetation, he was just about able to make out figures moving stealthily. The Eldar were here. The stench of their sorcery was polluting the area.

At the northern end of the valley, Bardolf could see a large ruin. The aura of witchcraft was rolling off it in waves. It had to be there.The artefact. The prey. Bardolf could nearly taste it, and it made him furious. The prey was in reach. But not for him.

„I salute you, hunter. “ The voice was full of derision, making Bardolf even angrier. He glanced back over his shoulder.

Huntmaster Charun walked up next to him. His sharp features were twisted into a wolfish grin. His daemon weapon was sheathed at his side. It was he who would be leading the hunt, not Bardolf. Charun pointed at the distant shapes of the Eldar: “Look at them, my brother! Look at them, preparing for war, fortifying their positions.” He chuckled. “It will all be for naught, I fear.”

Bardolf tried to keep his voice even: “What is your plan?”

Charun smiled: “We will be rushing their lines. They will not know what hit them.”

Bardolf snorted: “You hope to outmanoeuvre an Eldar force, Charun? Then you’re even more of a fool than I suspected!”

Charun turned around to face him. His face showed the hatred he was feeling just for an instant, then he smiled again: “You are a foot soldier, my brother. And I will forgive you for thinking like one. We will fall on them from the sky. My Harriers will tear them apart.” “Be careful, Charun! This is no normal force. The Eldar and their dark kin are fighting side by side. I have seen it. Whatever it is the Eldar are guarding here”, he pointed at the ruin in the distance, “you can feel it. It must be very powerful. Or very dangerous. They will take
desperate measures to keep it in their possession. “


Charun’s leering smile grew: “The more despair the better, I say! We will kill them all alike, whether they hail from the Craftworlds or from the Dark City. Their blood will be the same exquisite shade of crimson in the end.” He glanced back at the ranks of the World Eaters: “And how can we fail, knowing that a legend will walk among us?”


As if on cue, a deafening metallic roar rang out. The noise was horrifying. Full of anger. Full of frenzy. Full of despair.

Bardolf couldn’t hide his horror, but Charun’s grin widened even further: „Yes, brother. I have decided to let the Fallen accompany our hunt. It shall be a glorious day. Bardolf had heard enough. „I shall leave you to your glory then, Charun! “, he hissed and turned to leave.


„You will not be joining us? “


„The Lord Captain will make planetfall in a few hours. He has requested my presence at the spaceport.”

“That means that I will not have to worry about your survival this day?”

Bardolf glanced back at Charun: “My survival is the last thing you should be worrying about, brother”, he said and looked directly into Charun’s eyes, “The Fallen is a warning to us all. I hope that this much at least is not lost on you.” Then he left.

Charun looked at Bardolf’s receding shape for a while, then he addressed Skull Champion Memnar, who had witnessed the officers’ exchange from a respectful distance: “Has the hunt been assembled?”

Memnar saluted: „Aye, lord. Lead the way! “

Charun nodded and drew his daemon sword in one fluent movement. The blade was shimmering in a dark inner light. Charun pointed to the valley: “Warriors of the 4th assault company”, he roared, “let us go hunting!”


With the deafening howl of his jump pack, Charun launched himself into the sky. The battle had begun.




Huntmaster Bardolf, Lord of the Huntsmen, 4th Assault Company, XIIth Legion Astartes





Charun tore his daemon weapon free from the body of the Eldar sorcerer, who promptly collapsed. His blood boiled away as it hit the
serrated blade. “Kill them!” Charun roared, “Kill them all!”


The Eldar were all but annihilated. The prey was ready for the taking. Charun’s warriors threw themselves at the squad of aspect warriors defending the ruin. Charun could sense waves of power rolling off the artefact. So close now! So close…


Marax the Fallen was tearing apart a squad of Dark Reapers with crackling lightning claws, howling with anger and hatred, a perfect embodiment of death. Charun roared with laughter.


Suddenly, he could feel the sickly taste of witchcraft. It disgusted him. He snapped around, facing the fallen sorcerer he had just
struck down. The Eldar was mortally wounded, but his face was full of determination as he moved his hands in arcane patterns. Charun felt the quickening in the Warp, like an explosion without a sound.


“No”, Charun hissed, “this is impossible!”


The sudden flash of light was so bright that Charun had to cover his eyes to avoid being blinded. “No!” he howled with frustration, “Nooooo!”

When the light abated, the Eldar and the artefact that they had guarded with their lives were gone. Nothing was left, except the dead and a thick smell of ozone.


The prey had escaped.




Brother Marax, "the Fallen", 4th Assault Company, XIIth Legion Astartes,




The fluff is actually a fairhful representation of what happened during a game: Charun became so obsessed with killing everything that he let the victory slip through his fingers. The Lord of the Harriers was seething with rage, however: He would have his prey!



Huntmaster Charun, Lord of the Harriers, 4th Assault Company, XIIth Legion Astartes,



The sky was iron grey. The coming storm painted the lush green plains in an evil green, its hue almost neon. Memnar and Bruul were
standing at the front of the World Eaters’ force, looking down into the valley basin that would form the stage for today’s battle.


“Almost like an arena, eh brother?” Bruul asked.


“Aye, and we know well how to fight in those.” Memnar looked at the sky: “This weather is ill news, though. It’ll be a downpour before


“Don’t tell me a Huntsman of the 4th is afraid of a few drops?”


“Visibility will be poor. The ground will turn into mud. But the water is the least of our concerns, to be sure.” Memnar pointed at the
advancing enemy force, visible to the south: “Something is different.”


Bruul nodded. This was not what they had expected. The Xenos were advancing, seemingly to meet the World Eaters head on. This was
uncommon. And their lines seemed different too. Instead of fast skimmers and the lithe forms of the Eldar warriors, they could make out huge, misshapen creatures, like nightmares become flesh.
Suddenly thunder growled in the distance and jagged lightning danced across the sky. The first drops of rain were quick to follow.


“It begins.”     


Suddenly, there was some unrest among the legionaries behind them. Bruul and Memnar turned around to see Lord Charun marching through the ranks and appearing at the front line. There was murder in his eyes.


“Hunters of the 4th assault company”, he roared, “we march into battle today to reclaim our pride.”


“He must mean his own pride”, Bruul muttered under his breath. “I don’t recall losing mine.”


“It seems the enemy wants to meet us head on”, Charun continued. “By all means, let us grant their wish! No one can hope to defeat the World Eaters at close quarters!”


A cheer went up around them, but  Bruul and Memnar just looked at each other knowingly. It was happening again.


The rain had intensified, battering down in huge sheets of water now. Memnar cleared his throat and spoke up:


“My lord, these Xenos are devious. It seems strange that they would move to meet us in the open. Something is amiss here. Maybe we should…”


His voice faltered when Charun turned to face him. In three short steps, he had reached Memnar. Charun’s teeth were bared, and there was something horrifyingly feral in the Huntmaster’s eyes.


“Stand down, Hunter!”, he hissed, “Stand down or stand back! Either way, I will have my hunt. I will have my revenge. Be careful, lest you end up as the first kill this day.”


Memnar stared back for a moment, then bowed his head. “I did not mean to presume, my lord. Lead the way.” Charun’s eyes were slits now. “I shall, hunter. Khorne knows I shall.” He marched past Memnar to the front of the lines.


Charun drew his nightmare weapon. Its azure glow bathing him in a ghostly glare. The rain was falling heavily now, but it instantly evaporated where it hit the daemonsword’s blade. 


“Looks like there are two daemons on the battlefield this day.” Bruul muttered.


“Aye, and it’s the unbound one that scares me.” Memnar gazed at Charun for a moment longer. Then he put on his helmet. “Take care
brother, lest you become the prey.”


“And you.” Bruul answered. Their respective squads fell into loose packs behind them.


“Harriers, with me!”, Charun roared, “Hunters, show the enemy no mercy. Give no quarter. TEAR. THEM. APART!”




Skull Champion Memnar, Huntsman Corps, 4th Assault Company, XIIth Legion Astartes,



Skull Champion Bruul, Huntsman Corps, 4th Assault Company, XIIth Legion Astartes,



Long story short, Charun managed to screw it up again, losing another battle against the Xenos. That, in turn, lead to a bit of discussion within the upper tiers of the 4th assault company...



The spaceport’s tactical control center had been converted to serve as the 4th assault company’s command post for the Haestia campaign. A projection of the Mardias subcontinent was hanging in the middle of the room, casting a sickly green light on the attendees. The Huntmasters and their commanding officers were standing around in loose groups, conversing in hushed voices as they waited for Lord Lorimar.


Bardolf looked around. The amount of officers was astonishing. It seemed that much of the company had been assembled by now. The campaign was proving to be a challenge, but the World Eaters would rise to it.


“It has been some time, Bardolf.” The voice was impossibly deep and metallic. Like it came from an iron grave. In a way, it did. Bardolf turned around to face Khoron the Undying. The Dreadnought’s huge frame was imposing, even for a warrior of the fourth. Bardolf had to look up to direct his gaze at the face Khoron had been wearing for the last millennia: a brass mask, wrought in the shape of a skull. Bardolf bowed his head respectfully.


“Well met, older brother. Indeed, it has been too long.” He looked up again. “I did not realise that you had made planetfall


Khoron laughed. The sound recalled sheets of metal grinding together. A strange sound for a Dreadnought. Khoron took a step forward and Bardolf could see fresh damage on his ironform.

“Oh, I have been here for a while. As a matter of fact, I was quite honoured to accompany our brother Charun on his latest …sortie.”


“And quite a sortie it was”, came a new voice. Bardolf turned around to face the new arrival. It belonged to Hokar, Lorimar’s Master
of the Guard. His Terminator armour was exquisitely crafted, forming a cowl in the shape of a snarling skull that cast a shadow over his pale features. His expression was utterly inscrutable. Nothing new there.


“I salute you, hunter”, Bardolf addressed him, “I thought you were campaigning in the Diammar sector.”


Hokar’s eyes were like shards of volcanic glass. “Indeed I was. But your inability to keep our brother Charun in check managed to end my hunt somewhat…prematurely. Or did you think our Lord Lorimar brought the majority of the company here for a spot of hiking?”


Bardolf let the slight pass without comment. “What of the first hunter?”


Hokar let out a sigh: “Skarn is hunting to the south. He has set his sights on the secondary Hive.”


Bardolf shook his head: “There is nothing there. The Hive has become a necropolis.”


“Then he shall find enough skulls at least.”, came a booming voice. Deracin joined them, the bionic implants that covered his scarred
head glinting in the green half-light.
Bardolf looked at the Keeper of the Forge: “I am glad to see you are well, brother.”


Deracin guffawed: “I was a lot better when you didn’t get my Daemon Engines all shot up, Bardolf. See if I grant you any heavy fire
support again.” But there was a glint of humour in his eyes.


Bardolf indulged him: “Grant it to Skarn, then. Maybe he has need of firepower, conquering that boneyard.”


“First hunter Skarn is scouting out the enemies’ defense at my behest.” The voice was not loud, but commanded instant attention.

Nobody knelt when Lorimar entered. To kneel was to be a slave, and no member of the World Eaters legion would ever be a slave again. At least, not to any mortal. But the Huntmasters bowed their heads in unison as their lord marched to the center of the cavernous chamber. His personal guard spread out around him in a wide circle, their only sound the soft scraping of their heavy armour.


“I salute you, hunters.”


Hokar addressed him: “We welcome you, Master of the Hunt. The council is assembled.”


Lorimar looked at each of them in turn. “I have called you here to discuss our strategy. This hunt has proven to be more challenging
than we expected.”


“Aye, the hunters in charge do seem rather …challenged to me”, Deracin smirked. Bardolf noticed Charun in the distance, his face
twisting into a sneer. He shot a sideways glance at Deracin and stepped forward.


“The Eldar have been a resourceful opponent thus far. We have begun to suspect that they are guarding something very important to
their race. Some kind of artifact. This is the fulcrum on which their morale is turning. Take the artifact, and you break their resistance.”
He glanced at Charun: “Unfortunately, a number of dubious decisions have seen us defeated time and again, and the artifact has
eluded us. We were rash where we should have been more cautious.”


Charun stepped forward as well, staring at Bardolf: “Your overcautious ways ill befit an officer of the XIIth Astartes legion,


“As does your stupidity”, Bardolf replied.


“Since when is it stupid to do battle? It is what we live for!”


Bardolf felt his anger rising. “It is always foolish to pick battles you cannot hope to win. If you continue, your rope will have more black twists than red ‘ere long. Can you not feel it, Charun? The dirt of Mardias in your wounds, chafing against the inside of your


“The loss of the artifact was not my fault. The Eldar used vile sorcery.”


“Indeed”, Deracin growled, “whoever could have suspected that the Eldar would stoop so low as to use witchraft?” That earned him a
number of low chuckles. Before Charun could turn to face him, Huntmaster Bafram spoke up:


“It seems that we should be sorry for actually doing battle instead of only sitting within our walls now. If so, I may have to go around making excuses to my prey before long, eh Bardolf?” There was a murmur of consenting voices, and Bardolf felt himself growing tense.
Charun may have been a madman, but he was not without support within the company. Bardolf spoke again:


“We are hunters, not beasts. What we hunt, we take down. That is our way. It has always been our way. What of a hunter who forgets that, I ask? Can he be called a hunter at all? Or has he become something different?”


There was something dangerous in Charun’s voice when he answered, something barely restrained: “You want to lecture me on
hunting, Bardolf? Don’t make a fool of yourself! I have been hunting, while you were safe behind the walls of Antilia.


“All that you have been hunting are ghosts! Instead, you should have exercised some caution”


“Your caution could be considered cowardice.”


“And your recklessness could be considered insanity”. Bardolf left the word hanging in the air, the accusation plain to understand.
Indeed, the mood in the room had changed. The assembled Huntmasters understood what was at stake here.


As did Charun: His face was a mask of hatred, he almost spat his next words into Bardolf’s face. “Would you like to continue this
argument under more …fitting circumstances, my brother? Should we perhaps conduct this discussion on the Hot Dust, do you think? Let us see who is right then!”


“Enough!” The word was no more than a low growl, but it was enough to stop everyone in their tracks. Lorimar gazed at each of them
in turn, his expression unreadable.


“I have need of a war council, yet all I hear is an assembly of old crones endlessly bickering. I am growing tired of this.” He turned
to Charun:


“You will deploy to the southern plains with your retinue to form a reinforcement for Skarn’s hunting party. The Harriers still at the Y’lanth’Ine basin will remain where they are. Syrax, I trust you will command them wisely until such time as Huntmaster Charun rejoins you.”


Charun’s second in command seemed to have discovered something entirely mesmerizing on the floor in front of him. “Yes, m’lord”, he
muttered in a low voice.


“My lord,” Charun seemed incredulous. “I beg you reconsider. There is little strategic value to the southern plains. I could serve the company better if I…”


Lorimar’s voice was icy: “The decision in what capacity you might benefit the company most is mine. Not yours. You may take your leave.”, he adressed the room in general: ““This meeting is adjourned. We shall speak more soon. May your prey be a worthy one. Bardolf and Khoron, you are staying with me. I would speak with you some more.”


The Huntmasters and their lieutenants left. Charun continued glowering for a moment, then he abruptly turned around and marched from the room as well. Bardolf could see that he was seething with ill-contained rage. He turned to Lord Lorimar:


“Charun is no longer sane. He cannot be trusted!”


“Charun is our brother. He has earned our trust. And our respect” Lorimar’s eyes were like cold fire.

Bardolf could not hold his gaze. Then Lorimar turned to Khoron: “What say you, old friend? I would hear your counsel.”


“This fighting amongst ourselves is unwise”, the Dreadnought growled. “A house divided cannot stand. Still, Bardolf has a point.”


Lorimar sighed: “The Butcher’s Nails have transformed Charun. They have transformed us all. Made us more than men. And less.” He was staring into space, at something only he could see.


“My lord, I am only concerned for the company’s survival.”


Lorimar turned to face Bardolf. “As am I. Charun is my concern. The plains of Mardias are yours.” Bardolf inclined his head. The
discussion was over. “What of the other factions?”, Lorimar asked.


“It seems the Necrontyr have been sleeping for so long that they might have forgotten how to wake up altogether. We have only had
superficial contact and some isolated sightings. For some reason, they are holding back.”


“And the Neverborn at Candolfus?”

Khoron answered in his abyssal growl: “We cannot know who is in ascendance, so we had best be careful. The whole affair has the stench of Tzeentch upon it.”


“Aye.” Lorimar seemed lost in thought for a few moments, then he gazed at Bardolf:


“Gather a hunting party. I would look upon this prey with my own eyes. We march at first light.”




Brother Khoron, "The Undying", 4th Assault Company, XIIth Legion Astartes,




Huntmaster Deracin, The Keeper of the Forge, 4th Assault Company, XIIth Legion Astartes,



As always, thanks for looking and stay tuned for more! :)

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Ooh sir !  Love the dreads, seriously - love the godzilla-come-jugger styled dread you have there, arms back and roaring face!  Very nice conversions indeed - approved.  Where did you source the skull from on the second please?


How do you get on with the jump packs from maxmini, apart from the balance issue, do you also remove the fin over the shoulder pads to make them fit or ?


Keep up the great work, but please... no more dreads ...or I feel my khorne conversion to a berserking force would be complete...

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Thanks a lot, people!


@ infyrana: Cheers, mate! That Dreadnought's head is one of the faceplates that come with the Defiler kit.


I found the MaxMini jump packs to be a pretty good fit and didn't have to cut off anything to attach them to the models. That third fin can be a little tricky though, so dryfitting is certainly in order. As for balancing issues: Only one of the models using the packs has any balance issues, and those were easily solved by gluing a small coin beneath the model's base.

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Alright, everyone, here's the next batch of WIP models for you. Today, I have a few models for you that will most likely end up as Chosen whenever I manage to get them painted. Or they could be used as more ornate berzerkers. For now, though, the fact that they are more detailed and ornate than your run-of-the-mill zerker makes them a rather nice fit for the 4th assault company's elite corps, known as the Sons of Cron:




As you can see, some of these started out as Chosen from the Dark Vengeance boxed set, while others are kitbashes from older CSM models and some bitz from more recent kit:






The champ for the squad so far, believe it or not, started out as one of the Bolter wielding Chosen from Dark Vengeance:




As always, your feedback is very welcome!



Edited by KrautScientist
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Thanks a lot, guys! Glad you like the models!


As a matter of fact, I forgot two stragglers:






These guys basically were the result of an attempt at "refurbishing" older models and making them look a bit more impressive.


Feedback always welcome! :)

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Liking the guy with the shield buddy. Can't say I've seen that one before. Best parts for me are the head (a nice solution to a dodgy scaled bit) and the shield arm. Really like the chain on the front as well. Is the pauldron from the old WHFB hunchy chaos warriors?
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