Armond Posted June 18, 2014 Author Share Posted June 18, 2014 Ya, the picts were captured during various actions, someone must have looked at Hess'ker while in "preysight," I do believe it is based on thermal imaging. The red tint is from the "eyes" of someone who was viweing without aids, just the red tinted filter on the helmet lenses. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Tyrannicide Posted June 19, 2014 Share Posted June 19, 2014 Stoked we finally have a Thramas Crusade log! I read Savage Weapons last night, so you could say my heart is losing a tug of war battle between the I and VIII Legions right now. :D Looking forward to this, gents. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Armond Posted June 19, 2014 Author Share Posted June 19, 2014 We have one of the legends in our thread! woot! I have plenty to get done and depth and I have are throwing around a few ideas. Stay tuned! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Armond Posted June 24, 2014 Author Share Posted June 24, 2014 The room was cold, the air stale... Sanitized to the highest standards, the rites of the tech adepts required the most stringent of limitations. Robed in a deep, almost forbidding red, the servants of the Omnissah moved silently save for the hum of their servos and the shuffle of their garments. At one time one would have regarded them as human, but after decades of servitude to their Mechanicum masters, the once mortals were more machine than anything else. A hiss of hydraulics was the precursor to the entrance of one of their responsibilities. +++interrogative++++++identification complete - begin authorization clearance++++++authorization complete+++ "Greetings Astartes 179, IX Company, XVIII Chapter, VIII Legion." The half-machine blurted in mechanical Gothic. "Orders have been received for deployment of members of IX Company, preparations for armaments have been made and the blessings of the Omnissah have been bestowed as the Rites require." The brightly lit room darkened to an almost lightless void. A dim red light activated, and the chamber along with all within was bathed in a crimson hue. "Then all is as it should be my Mechanicum brethren, the Legion expresses its gratitude." The voice was deep, like an avalanche given the gift of voice. The owner stood at ease within the portal to the arming chamber. He was immense, even by the standards of the Astartes. Dalibor stood nearly half a head taller than most and coupled with his dour attitude was nigh unapproachable. He kept his own council, confiding in no Legion brother his thoughts and bestowing little acknowledgement beyond those within his charge. The consensus within the Company was that the Sergeant of the Fearmongers was an island unto himself, accessible by his Commander alone. The determination by the IX was wrong. "Are you well?" "I am functioning at optimal levels and have found no faults within my internal systems." A rumble of laughter spilled from Dalibor's lips, a sound few had ever heard, "Must we dance this dance on every occasion we speak?" "Of course... Understood Astartes 179... I am, fine..." Came the answer after a momentary pause, the reply was measured but short. Dalibor confided in no one save his servants of the Mechanicum, which he had been doing since his inception into the Fearmongers' ranks. The relationship between the VIII Legion and the scions of Mars was well known to be amicable and the sons of Nostramo held their tech adepts and servants on a near equal footing as their brothers. The service provided by the mysterious robed members was invaluable, providing for the much needed maintenance and care of the Legion's war gear. "Please begin the Rites of Armament dear friend..." He stepped into the footholds bracketed to the floor, and awaited the telltale clamor of half a dozen servitors as they efficiently began the process of equipping the Sergeant with the initial pieces of Cataphractii-pattern Terminator Dreadnought Armor. Terminator armor was nigh impenetrable, made up of overlapping layers of ceramite and plasteel, it is able to deflect all but the most powerful of weapons. "As you wish... my... friend." The words were rare from the mouths of adepts, and the term friend a highly unused one within the Mechanicum. Creating such ties typically led to failings within the system, but the regular interaction and discourse between the towering Astartes and the Tech Adept were falling into a routine. The servitors secured the exoskeleton to Dalibor's body, preparing for the addition of the various pieces and plates. One by one, cabled systems, fiber bundles, plates, and weaponry are placed and held in position. He watched as his chest piece, as dark as the Terran sky when the sun had passed, was locked in place by one of the mind-scraped retainers. A blank stare was all he received, no nod or voice of assent upon completion, just the programmed motions established through decades of configuration changes. The Fearmongers were the IX Company's elite, deemed worthy enough to wear the mantle of guardian of the Commander, they were also his most brutal Astartes. "We ready ourselves for the murdering we will commit; we are tasked with readiness for action. Our Commander has ordered that the IX Company stand in midnight clad, for we are to be prepared for deployment to the False-Emperor's world to remind them of their fears." There was little conviction there, simply a statement of the facts. A sigh escaped the transhuman's lips, an indication of what? Perhaps it was just acknowledgement of his duties? "As was commanded by our liege lord, we stand to serve the VIII Legion..." A slow, almost imperceptible bow of the head, and the adept withdrew from Dalibor's peripheral vision, no doubt making his way to the control consoles. "Your service has been noted, and will be added to the Chapter's annals, thank you again my friend..." As the massive gauntlets, tipped with razor-like blades, were bolted to his hands he heard the binary cant voiced by the servitors signaling completion. A deeper reply cut the air, originating to his flank, ordering the placement of his helmet. He stood motionless as the helm was lowered slowly, reverently; and he watched as his environment disappeared from view. "At your leisure, begin system activation, installation of Terminator Dreadnought Armor complete... We await your command..." Dalibor initiated the internal systems, booting up the integrated suit systems and initiating the preliminary checks. He watched as his lenses opened up, the same crimson tint to everything was present again, but providing a sharper contrast. He took in the scrolling boot-up sequences on his HUD, satisfied with every line as they disappeared out of view upon acknowledgement. +++start-up initiated++++++astartes_179, designation: Dalibor acknowledged++++++accessing internal databases++++++unit vitals monitoring initiated++++++data link established: IX Company authentication received++++++accessing external databases>handshake established>downloading++++++download complete++++++systems powered - 99.99723% availability++++++los vox-link awaiting connection++++++los-vox-link established+++***praise to the omnissah, systems are operating at peak, require verification, awaiting action***+++blos vox-link awaiting connection++++++weapons systems initiated+++ Dalibor moved with ease, the muscle fibers built into the suit allowing maximum range of motion. He flexed his legs and arms, and sent the command to remove the boot clamp, allowing him to walk about. He walked several paces, testing his limitations, acutely aware of the inability to cover distances quickly. It was a sacrifice made for more protection and the capability to shoulder the weight of devastating weapons systems. His choice of weapon was the bladed hand or lightning claw as they were called. Gauntlets with wickedly crafted talons, the blades could knife through most material with little effort. Flesh and bone parted with little effort, and for more resistant surfaces, one merely had to power the blades. He did so now, watching with satisfaction as the blades became coated in a red sheen, oily-like in appearance. The ebb and flow of each matter-destroying field covered every talon, each one powerful enough to be a weapon alone. There were five to a hand, replacing the fingers. Dalibor wielded a pair of them; both of his immense hands were weapons of terror. The Sergeant surveyed his suit, cataloging every finding. The deep azure of his armor was dancing with lightning, the only real embellishment, a signature of his Legion. The overlapping plates were obsidian in color, a dull grey where the light was captured. On his left pauldron was the skull of the XIV Legion in stone-gray he bore in honor of a previous campaign; on the right a wing with bolts of lightning of the same color. His left knee was decorated with the fanged skull, while his left gauntlet was adorned with the winged skull of the VIII Legion. With every breath it appeared the suit would split apart, his bulk almost too much for the shell to contain, even with the modifications for his frame that were made. When he was complete, he stated so, his voice made all the deeper when filtered through the vox system. "Assessment complete, all is nominal, I thank you..." He heard no response, instead he watched as a message scrolled across his lenses. +++Ave Dominus Nox++++++In midnight clad you stand before the servants of the Machine-God++++++May your foes fall with their last thoughts of fear and despair+++ He smiled just slightly, and it hurt... Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Armond Posted July 3, 2014 Author Share Posted July 3, 2014 Snow had been falling, falling for the past several days. Temperatures had plummeted overnight, every night, and so the snow refused to melt.Trooper Giardio had been posted to the outer perimeter, paired up with trooper Marskin. Both of them vented their bitterness to the cold air and to each other. They both shared their discomforts and present dislike of the Planetary Defense Force, but to be able to bring home pay reliably was enough to keep them in place.They sat on their haunches, hands rubbing together for that glorious friction, a way to keep warm. A small fire was crackling in the ground, in a hole they dub which was about half a meter deep. A small vent was dug, connected to the hole, allowing for oxygen to find its way in, feeding the hungry flames. They both knew the fire was unauthorized, “to Hel’s Gates to whoever came up with this nonsense” Giardio had said, “It is too damnably cold!”Marskin stood up; stretching his legs and then began to shuffle in place to get the blood to his extremities flowing. This was his second night in a row out in the biting cold; he just knew the shift sergeant had it out for him. He stamped his feet, pretending it was Sergeant Trul’s face, all the while lamenting the moment he joined the PDF.“Enough, enough… Let’s be done with this, we both know we hate the cold, the night, and the PDF. So hows about we mutter about something else?”Trooper Antoni Giardio had come from a family of farmers, grain farmers to be precise. Generations of his family had been part of the history of Rowe’s agricultural growth, but he learned from an early age he had no love of the dirt, and so sought his wages elsewhere. Eventually his search brought him to the PDF, and until he finished his three year obligation, he was no longer free to roam where he chose. He had been assigned to Sector 219, a small unit of around one hundred members, located southwest of his hometown.At first he had been elated to leave the dreariness, but then when he arrived at the borders of his current assignment, he felt dismayed. His town was more akin to a metropolis in comparison, and he felt that even this small unit of one hundred members was more than what this border-straddling town required. Of course that all changed with the planetary alert that came in. No one knew what exactly was happening, but the entire PDF was recalled and placed in high alert, tasked with sentinel duty across the entirety of Rowe. Rumors trickled down the lines and throughout the different district, rumors about entire sectors, cities, and towns going black. No information had been released in regards to their status, but everyone was tense.It was always that way, the initial shock and then the immediate reaction, so full of adrenaline and prideful vigilance. But after nearly a week of ramped up security and lengthened tour durations, everyone was starting to become disillusioned by the defensive stance.“It’s all just a slaggin’ drill I betcha’! Ain’t no way there’s anythin’ happenin’ anywhere!” Trooper Marskin, Gil Marskin, was a hot head. He hated picket duty even though this had only been his second tasking. Of course no one actually enjoyed it, but he was especially verbal about his opinion.The two debated, passing the time in the heat of arguing, but never came to any real agreement besides the age old fact that they wished they had never joined the PDF.His eyes flickered to the data streaming in, taking it all in at a glance…+++target acquired++++++distance – 723m++++++wind speed – 12kmph++++++recommend – eradicate+++“Confirm secondary…” His voice was a whisper, a constant habit even though his helmet was installed with noise deadening material and his voice function had been disabled.“Secondary confirmed…” came the reply, in the same low pitched voice.He disabled the weapon’s safety and eased himself into the shot. “I request you wait a moment, I want to see his face once he realizes…”“Aff, I can do one better…”“… and once more, why are we out here? There is nothing going to happen! This is all some ridiculous exercise the bald-headed fool of a PDF Commander drew up to get his laughs in and feel self-important!” His voice continued to increase in volume, and if it continued, there was no doubt that the Sergeant would be called and they would be serving extra duty in the details office, probably cleaning out the privies.“Would you quiet yourself down? You are going to catch someone’s ear!” Giardio hissed through his teeth, the spittle spraying in angst. Then a quiet whumpf, the slap of moisture hitting his face, and then it was silent. He looked in silent horror as the body of his duty-mate slumped forward and rolled atop the fire hole, headless.“Oh slag!” He leapt to his feet, scrambling for the vox caster, “What in the name of the Emperor…” Then a second whumpf and the vox box was decimated, fizzling as the falling snow touched down on the super-heated metal. Antoni turned away from the camp, and began to run, with no idea that he was heading towards his attackers.Twenty-five meters was as far as he went. A third whumpf and he died as his friend did, with an unsaid curse on his lips and headless.+++end vid capture – 00:27+++“That was enjoyable, quite nice, my thanks brother. Are we all clear?”“Indeed, IR indicates no other members present Sergeant Vadraf.”“The let’s move north, reports confirm that these Imperial slaves have these pickets placed a few kilometers apart from each other.” He stood slowly, graceful-like if it wasn’t for the Astartes bulk, which just made the threat even more real. Something that large, that powerful, moving with little restriction and such range of motion was the stuff of nightmares. The accumulated snow cascades off his cloak and pauldrons; they had sat motionless for nearly a half hour, watching for indicators of a larger force presence.It was a simple task really; move ever northward towards the next PDF district’s base of operations, cripple their communications, kill all but a handful of the inhabitants, and then raze it all to the ground. Sergeant Vadraf, 1st Recon Squad, IX Company, XVIII Chapter, VIII Legion was a veteran of nearly two centuries. He had served alongside nearly everyone in the Company, as the unique mission of the Shadow’s Sworn required regular use of the Recon Squad. He was well liked, as far as an VIII Legion member could be, held in extremely high regard by the Master of Signal, and Company Tactician Vaclav. He was heartless in duty, willing to see any task to the end. He has been credited with twenty-seven Astartes kills, all of them Dark Angels; twenty-two from afar behind the trigger of his heavily modified sniper rifle, and the other five within close quarter’s operations using the teeth of his chainglaive.Andrei Vadraf was plucked from the arms of his screaming mother over two centuries ago, a child born within the dark and murderous corridors of one of the Imperium’s penal colonies located in close proximity to the VIII Legion’s adopted home world of Nostramo. That image was the only one he had, the only one the False Emperor and his lapdogs had left intact after his vetting and initiation had been completed.He quickly advanced through most training regimens, catching the eye of many Captains along the way. Chosen by The Wraith his eventual promotion to Sergeant of the 1st Recon Squad was predicted early on and the nomination within the leadership was unanimous. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
muggs Posted July 3, 2014 Share Posted July 3, 2014 That's some great writing there! Very atmospheric Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Armond Posted July 3, 2014 Author Share Posted July 3, 2014 Thanks, glad you like!!! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
depthcharge12 Posted July 3, 2014 Share Posted July 3, 2014 Awesome stuff dude! Sorry for the delays on my part I've been very busy with...Legion matters.... *strangled cry of traitor being interrogated* After 4th of July ('Murica!!!) I'll post some of my work :) Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Armond Posted July 3, 2014 Author Share Posted July 3, 2014 No worries, I will be on a four day weekend, go Air Force ;) Anyway, enjoy the Fourth! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
deathspectersgt7 Posted July 4, 2014 Share Posted July 4, 2014 Put up my replica Gadsden Flag "Semper Fi" and my Bennington Flag Happy 4th Y'all. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
depthcharge12 Posted August 22, 2014 Share Posted August 22, 2014 I'm sorry I've been such a slacker lately, but I put my foot down and did some more work! Here's what's on my table at the moment, they are about 80% done. Fluff to come later. http://i911.photobucket.com/albums/ac316/treacyjohn2/7cd6ee2610c7bd0a193c4bf153050649_zps5d6a90b7.jpg http://i911.photobucket.com/albums/ac316/treacyjohn2/5bfc0edd1dd44e184a286fc50e0de0bd_zpsf0d36c22.jpg ++Remembrancer's note: "The Panapoly of the Dark Angels, specifically within its veteran and terminator elements, contain heirloom relic weapons passed down from legionary to legionary. Such weapons were held in utmost regard by the owners and generally overruled the veteran's selfish want of a specific weapon type. When the Lion rejoined his legion, he streamlined the weapons carried by the legionaries for better logistics, however, he ironically favored the older mark of weapons for their durability, craftsmanship, and overall stopping power. Heirloom weapons carried by his veterans were no exception to this, despite the motley assortments carried within his squads. End note++ Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
depthcharge12 Posted August 23, 2014 Share Posted August 23, 2014 No thoughts, comments, or criticisms? :P I might be splitting off for a while for my own thread as it sounds like Armond is nearer to completing his force. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Armond Posted August 23, 2014 Author Share Posted August 23, 2014 I am so sorry bro, that long hiatus pretty much guaranteed my completion of my NLs! I just have a Land Raider and some filler troops to complete for the most part! I am guessing there is heraldry to come here? Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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