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Daemonic Pact II

Uprising

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Tenebris

Tenebris

Posted
Posted

My vow: Strategos Taroth of the Thousand Sons, Chaos Lord of the Heralds of Change

 

Entry log 12. The Triangle, sideral coordinates 123.349.887

 

For years I have observed my legion in combat, for years I have watched the skein of the Warp, for years I have studied the mundane affair that is war. We are a legion of scholars and while I and my brothers are astartes all we still often come short when the tides of war sweep us in the deep currents of defeat. It is clear to me that we need proven commanders to lead the Thousand Sons, someone who can take the burden of command from us, more scholary souls, and see to our needs and demands. Several magisters attempted to walk this path, either by employing mercenary warlords or even by tempting fate as military commanders themselves, yet while some were successful on this path, most blunted their inborn gifts on the anvil of war. This will not be my case. 

 

Today, I Arstar Hanahon will change this and I will try to create the "strategos" a military commander solely bound to me, a merging of cogitator, astartes and the gifts of my legion and bloodline. I went to great lengths to secure a batch of geneseed of our flawed bloodline but secured it I did yet still I have to pay the price for it... alas my chirurgeons reported to me that the implantation went without problems and the recipient is now resting. In a few weeks time I will use the mind bending techniques of my caste to shape this youngling into a formidable strategos.

 

 

Entry log 171. The Triangle, sideral coordinates 762.124.231

 

Long and hard I have laboured but the "strategos" project is looking to be a success. For weeks unending I have shaped every single facet of the neophyte's mind in order to make him a posthuman cogitator, every mind pattern was carefully rewired and I have used my gift to map his brain. Notions of history, countless battle simulations, everything was carefully placed in his mind via my telepathic gift and I have already tested the strategos in several simulations, to outstanding success. Erus of the Black Legion is tutoring the neophyte in the fine arts of astartes combat and the youth seems to be a very efficient and pragmatic warrior. So far the process went without hindrance but there is still so much room in his mind to fill with libraries about astartes and human warfare. If all goes to plan, the "strategos" will be my lieutenant and the burden of command will be relieved from my shoulders.

 

 

Entry log 412. Tower of Holkasu, Planet of Sorcerers

 

The "strategos" project encountered the first setback. Taroth, as I named my pet lieutenant, was unable to cogitate an effective response to an ork assault. The brutish greenskins managed to flank him and my warband has lost several thralls and a Forgefiend daemonic engine to their assault. Taroth looked like he was suffering from a logical loop, not an uncommon event with the Rubicae but unthinkable in a creature of flesh and sinew. I have used the translogis rituals to encode more battlefield experience and treaties about the greenskins in the expanded brain cortex of my lieutenant. Hopefully this should provide him with ample response strategies for countering unexpected events in battle.

 

 

Entry log 814. The Triangle, sideral coordinates 465.982.122

 

Again Taroth proved to be an efficient commander in terms of logistics, deployment and overall strategic command but the unexpected events still force him into a logical loop. Despite my best effort to imbue my creation with extensive battlefield experience, force feeding him with astartes brain matter and securing several Dark Magi to expand his brain cortex the Strategos is still not perfect as a battlefield commander. In a clash with the Alpha Legion all his strategies were nullified and all his counter-attacks easily interpreted and repelled. In a shifting battle most of his strategy was of logic nature yet still the Alpha Legion won that day. In a desperate bid to salvage something of my project I contacted the Alpha Legion afterwards the battle and despite their victory they seemed very amused of my "creature", so far that one of them offered his services for an extraordinary price, a price at this stage I am willing to pay, pride be damned.

 

 

Entry log 1209, sideral coordiantes 230.235.684

 

I officially close my "strategos" project and seal it as a failure. The project was flawed from the very start. Despite my best effort to "tutor" my pupil in the art of war the problem is that most of it was of literal nature and when layered within his mind it proved to be a great wealth of information yet of little practical use. My advisors warned me about the prevalence of the theory and the lack of experience but an astartes should be a formidable weapon as it is, yet the "strategos" did not think as an astartes, hence it did not act as an astartes. Comparing the results of my creature to those of Ando Luran, Splintermaster of the Alpha Legion the outcome was dismal. Taroth was unable to cope with the pragmatic and effective doctrines of the Alpha Legion, he was not able to adapt or react and my all too synthetic approach to his mind patterns proved to be the ultimate mistake that sealed the fate of my experiment. 

 

As it is I have recreated a Rubic Marine in flesh and soul. An automaton, a static commander and not a proactive one. The curse of my bloodline comes to haunt me yet again for no matter how many times I meddle with the minds of my mortal subjects, while I give them incredible cognitive powers I blunt their visceral, emotional part which is the result of experience and flesh, flesh that is learning on mistakes past. The project "strategos" showed me this truth, the truth of flesh and the truth of Change and once again I am humbled by the teachings of the Changer of Ways. A brain must be allowed to change, to adapt, to learn. Change cannot be programmed, it must be spontaneous, it must be emotional and it must be done on ones own terms. In my hubris, in my arrogance I have deemed myself worthy of creating a mind, only to find out that I have created a null mind, an automaton of flesh.

 

Taroth will still serve me, he is astartes still but I cannot escape the shadow of my failure, I cannot escape his dead gaze and emotional stillness. I have sought to create a Son from the dust, but I have created a Rubic of flesh...

 

 

http://shrani.si/f/3s/Jm/2xAR3UKR/2014-08-29-181554.jpg

 

The failure of Arstar Hanahon, Sorcerer of the Thousand Sons, notice the "Strategos" Taroth. It is clear that the sorcerer was desperate to salvage his project. Despite the meticulous gene forging, mind weaving and techno cant that went into the creation of the "strategos", the creature proved ultimately a failure, failure as an astartes and failure as a commander. In a desperate bid to save his creation, Arstar imbued the armour of his lieutenant with the essence of a Pink Horror, to supplement the predictability of his ward with the unpredictability of the daemon, only to find the daemon ever more taking advantage of the constant logical loops of the ward. Armed with a powerful set of weapons, a daemonic blade and an archeotech plasma gun, the "strategos" proved time and again to be a very effective, if unimaginative warrior, immune to most forms of psychic or psychological assault, an economy fighter with high marks in blade work and shooting, yet... unpredictable foes still bested him often enough. His logistical form was impeccable as were his strategies in void combat, where advanced logarithms and enhanced brain patterns allowed him advantage in the often mathematical form that is void warfare but on the ground the "strategos" was ultimately a failure. Prone to logic loops and often prey to the unpredictability of combat the "strategos" was little more than a Rubic Marine clad in flesh. Without expression, without a personality, the creature despite being of flesh and blood was little more than an automaton, a silent guardian, a drone clad in astartes flesh, a synthetic creature and in the end... unable to change... a failure. 

 

 

You don't understand it sorcerer, a mind must be allowed to change...and grow on its own...

 

 Ando Luran, Splintermaster of the Alpha Legion

sunspear Veteran

sunspear

Posted
Posted

This will be my contribution to the challenge, finally was able to figure out how to post pics, this is a lowly squad champion. I will include the background when I post the completed pics. I have some ideas kicking around, it will be an Iron Warriors warband and the marines are recruited from a feral world. I like to think Cimmeria in space happy.png

More to come soon!

Chaeron Venerable Brother

Chaeron

Posted
Posted
Completed my Herald for the Daemonic Pact:

 

http://i29.photobucket.com/albums/c254/TheNewAgeOutlaw/Herald3_zps1bf03f2b.jpg

 

http://i29.photobucket.com/albums/c254/TheNewAgeOutlaw/Herald_zps4211aca2.jpg

 

http://i29.photobucket.com/albums/c254/TheNewAgeOutlaw/Herald2_zps5c43ea95.jpg

 

Fluff for him to come!

Brother Argent Venerable Brother

Brother Argent

Posted
Posted

So here is the before and fluff:

The taste of bitter ash and dust clung to Arit’s tongue as he peered through the fog that hung to the shattered city like a long forgotten funeral shroud. His helmet’s auto-sensors picked up various heat and movement signatures that even his enhanced astartes vision could not. A quick glance sideways told him his other brothers were still in place. His Chapter, the Silver Swords, has been engaged against the traitors on this wretched planet for weeks. The enemy commander was a cunning one. His Chapters attacks would always seem to miss their true mark, as if the enemy either knew or could predict their every strike. It was as though the enemy commander was toying with them, leading them to strike where he wanted them to, only for the real attack or target to be on the other side of the battle field. He knew his Captain was growing frustrated for, as Sons of Corax, the Silver Swords were being played with their own game. The duelling of his captain and the traitor commander had been playing out to a stale mate. That was until they had received intel on the location of the enemy commander himself. And so that was what Arit and his fellow assault marines were doing here. Waiting in the dust shrouded ruins in ambush for the enemy commander.

Arit did a final check on his bolt pistol as his auto-sensors picked up the signature of enemy astartes. A silent signal sent to his squad signalled they be ready for the attack. A few seconds later and with a deafening roar Arit and his marines leapt to the attack. As they soared through the dust and debris Arit picked his targets. He landed with a bone shattering jolt on top of one of the many mortal allies of the traitors before swinging his bolt pistol around to fire several rounds into another advancing mortal. The cultist fell back a few steps before the round detonated, shattering his torso and blowing him in half. Arit swung his chainsword around with pre-natural skill born of countless years of training and bio-engineering to block the downward swing of a traitor astartes power axe. He staggered under the blow but managed to fire his bolt pistol into the traitors chest from below, knocking the traitor off his feet. Another traitor mortal answered for their heresy at the end of Arit’s chainsword before the space marine took stock of his situation. There were far more traitor astartes here then the intel had provided. And those here seemed to be somewhat more skilled then the others his Chapter had been fighting so far. That and these seemed to be true astartes, not the poor gene-enhanced proto-marines they had killed in the last few weeks. It was with a sinking heart that Arit realised that they had been out-smarted again. This was a trap, designed to lure Arit and his men to their deaths. The icons indicating his battle brothers status began to turn from green to amber then red in Arit’s HUD in his helmet. With desperation Arit looked around for the enemy commander. If he could at least take him down then Arit and his men’s deaths wouldn’t be in vain. Arit’s keen eyes soon marked the traitor commander. Standing on a small out-cropping watching the battle before him stood a shorter and smaller in stature astartes with ornate bronze and blue armour, black cloak flapping in the wind. Arit smiled to himself. At least the intel had been right about one thing, the traitor commander was small and looked weak. He was clearly unwilling to engage in the battle alongside his brethren and instead hung back where he felt less venerable. Arit would soon show him the error of his ways. A battle cry on his lips Arit gunned his jump pack. Soaring over the heads of those desperately fighting below he made a direct path for the commander. The traitor didn’t seem to have even seen him coming. Arit hit the ground at a charge, bringing his chainsword up high as he charged in. He hardly had time to even register the traitor drawing his ancient plasma pistol before he had fired a shot. The blinding bolt of plasma cut straight through the air and through Arit’s helmet, scrambling parts of his brain. The assault marine crashed to the ground, his own momentum carrying him to the traitor’s feet.

Arit looked up at the grinning traitor above him. Red warning sensors flickered in what was left of his helmet and his shattered brain reeled, attempting to make some sense of what was happening.

“ But… the intel….” He managed to mumble through broken thoughts and reeling haemorrhaging. The traitor simply smiled before reaching down with a cruel power fist.

“ Fool boy, where do you think the intel came from?” the traitor asked, before ripping Arit’s head from his body.

Korvin Underghast, Third Captain of the Void Legion, is regarded not only for his ruthless nature but also his malicious cunning. Always regarded as small even post augmentation he was smaller then his brothers. To make up for his smaller size Korvin always made a habit of going into battle with the most powerful weapons available to him, most often a power-fist and plasma pistol. Despite this Korvin’s most dangerous weapon has always been his mind. Before the Void Legions Excommunication and subsequent turn to the darker powers Korvin proved his worth to his brothers. His quick rise in the Chapter was attributed to his masterful strategies and he soon became known as the “Little Strategist”. He earned himself the position of Third Captain, or Commander of the Chapters Third Company, following his masterful defeat of the Eldar Craftworld forces on Pillum IV. With the Chapters excommunication Korvin was one of the Captains whom backed Xaeros, the First Captain and followed him into exile. With Xaeros’ division on the Chapter Kolvin went on to lead his own forces before returning to Xaeros’ later call for a re-united Chapter. The time seperate in the warp had changed Kolvin however and now alongside his cunning his is filled with a cold malice and viscous hatred of anyone whom he deems inferior to himself. Unlike some in the Chapter Kolvin hasn’t turned to the path of excess and instead believes the Chaos Gods are a tool only to be used to fuel his own ambitions. Kolvin is, however, still completely loyal to Xaeros and the Void Legion.

THE VOID LEGION

Once a loyalist chapter of the adeptus astartes the Void Legion were a Chapter based on the belief of self reliance and personal strength. It was this belief that slowly led them away from the Imperium and eventually to be Excomminucated following their attack of fellow astartes, simply to prove their own strength. The Chapter had, however, realised the consequences of their actions and had fled the inevitable retribution long before it arrived. Instead the Chapter became a mercenary force, working on the fringes of the Imperium, fighting for whoever game them the best offer and the chance for the best fight. It was during this time that the Chapters First Captain, Xaeros, recovered the ancient Pre-Heresy vessel the “Indomitable Wrath”. Little did he know that the vessel was actually possessed by an ancient daemon that began to whisper and gnaw at the edges of the Captains mind. It wasn’t long before Xaeros launched a bid for command of the Chapter and the Void Legion became fractured upon the Chapter Master’s disappearance. Xaeros took those loyal to him into the Eye of Terror while other Captains took their forces elsewhere. One even returned to face the judgement of the Imperium. Shortly after arriving in the Eye Xaeros sent away his other Captains, claiming he needed time to meditate on the new purpose given to him. He made them all swear an oath that they would return to him when the time came. Deep in the warp Xaeros fought a battle of will with the daemon of the Wrath before eventually gaining some kind of control. He put out the call to those whom were still loyal to him and re-united the Void Legion. He began to track down others of his Chapter in an attempt to rebuilt what was lost. Many in the Chapter, particularly those following the Second Captain Kaliel had given themselves to Slaanesh in pursuit of becoming the perfect warrior and even now the Chapter is divided between the cult of Chaos Undivided and those whom follow the Prince of Pleasure.

In early M41 Xaeros began to gather other warbands to his banner and has formed a bond known as the Dark Covenant. So far this warband consists of the Void Legion itself, The Angels of Decay (Former Ultramarine Successor the Angels of Ultramar – Now devotees or Nurgle), The Sons of Abel (Former Company of Blood Angel Successor the Angels of Evisceration, now mind controlled servants of Tzeentch) and the Iron Hounds (Unknown origin, devotees of Khorne) What this gathering of traitors’ exact purpose is isn’t known but it can only spell doom and blood-shed for the Imperium.

gallery_36568_9971_96356.jpg

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** Better picture to come once I fish out the better camera but there he is as finishes as he is going to be... for now...

oldschoolsavant Veteran

oldschoolsavant

Posted
Posted

Sorry for missing the question, ta forte for answering. I've been rather busy switching between wallpapering and painting the house, and trying to finish up for this.

 

Behold, Zhio'Ksir'Ksan'Agez, Bloodthirster of Khorne. (thanks StD random name tables)

 

http://i62.tinypic.com/334kndz.jpg

http://i61.tinypic.com/dfwuc4.jpg 

http://i57.tinypic.com/2r28a37.jpg

 

Resentment.

 

That's what resonates with it's appearance, the grudge it holds against me. Some sleight of the past, some search for recognition, I know not. My knowledge only extends to the fact I feel haunted by it's presence, and it's ever present shadow across my own.

 

Tamerian believes it to be ascended, a survivor of Terra granted fortitude by Our Lord, perhaps a survivor of The Breach, the day our kin scaled the Palace walls. Buried under the rubble and charred corpses of the thousands dead, perhaps it had pleased Our Lord sufficiently in glory, and found itself plucked from the mortal realm to serve in more valiant form. An interesting theory, formulated in his twisted mind through observation on several occasions, lacking as it is the typical hound visage, but bearing armour that harks back to echoes of the Glorious Age.

 

Why then, does it concern itself with my war ? Could it be displeased with our extended exile following the actions at Ghenna ? Does it seek vengeance for the withdrawal from Terra, or the fact it was abandoned to it's fate, left behind like so many of our brethren in the aftermath ? An agent of retribution tasked by Our Lord, to drive and torment me towards greater glory ? A curse for the inability to end this Long War with haste ?

 

Answers elude me, and I must suffer it's wrath once more. As I advance on the Loyalist lines to the south, tales have spread that the rift in the Primus hive have torn the bowels asunder, and that it marches on my flank at the head of a medley, daemonic and flesh alike, cultists and my own berserkers included.

 

Whether Khorne intends it to aid or confront us, is something to be seen. Perhaps it will finally reveal it's resentful past......and whose skull Khorne truly seeks.

 

 

 - Jural Kordash   

Plaguecaster Venerable Brother

Plaguecaster

Posted
Posted

Cannoness Helga chanted a prayer to the Emperor as she struck down the Plague zombie in front of her crushing it’s rotten skull causing it to collapse to the deck. “For the Emperor, strike down these abominations my sister’s” all around her the Battle sisters under her command tore into the Plague zombies that had swarmed the ships corridors cutting them down with holy flame and sanctified bolter rounds. Helga cursed in rage as she thought everything was going wrong whilst charging forward towards the next breach her squad following.

As part of a crusade of faith declared by his eminence Cardinal Jacob, a massive fleet was assembled with a full company of Battle Sisters of the Order of the Wounded Heart which acted as the personal retinue of the cardinal aboard his Flagship “The Divine Will” a Emperor class battleship. However as the fleet was in route to its destination it was ambushed by an unidentified slaughter class cruiser which was completely powered down to avoid being detected. Striking fast it had crippled a few of the Imperial ships before launching a volley of torpedoes which had penetrated the Divine will, through forbidden weaponry the breached torpedoes released toxic cloud killing dozens of the ships crew who were then revived as plague zombies by a device which radiated foul sorcery. Slowly but surely the undead were gaining in numbers as the overwhelmed the doomed crew leaving it to the Battle sisters to purge the plague zombies before they overwhelmed the main areas of the ship with the lesser ones being sealed off.

As the Sisters entered the Engine Reactors, Helga noticed the last surviving crew members dragged down by the zombies which had swollen in size with every death, noticing the sister’s arrival the undead horde let out a tortured scream before shambling forward.

“Open fire, send the abominations to oblivion” Helga cried firing her Infernus Pistol into the undead ranks cutting some down, all around her, her sister’s opened fire upon the zombies cutting down dozens especially the retributors who reaped a deadly toll with their heavy bolters, though just as the horde seemed to be broken it was then that they appeared.

Shrouded in a haze of smoke they strode out from the zombie ranks, clad in a decayed and corroded armour of an archaic pattern from a forgotten era their eyes blazing with a sickly green spectral light . Wielding rusted blades alongside heavy shields fitted with bolters they advanced towards the Sisters as the zombies were cut down around them

Plague Marines!!! Helga cursed as her sisters opened fire upon the seven new arrivals

Striding forward, the marines soaked up the oncoming fire before they opened fire

Four of her sisters were cut down screaming, two from meltaguns while the others from combined bolter fire, splitting up into two groups the Plague marines attacked.

Three of them attacked the Retributors who stood no chance and quickly fell to the twisted revernant’s blade before the sisters could defend themselves

“No!!!” Helga screamed watching her fellow sisters fall before charging forward with her celestine bodyguard firing her pistol on the run melting one of the Plague marine’s shield before the two sides met.

Striking out with her power mace she aimed for the foul champion who seemed to be leading Plague Marines, however the creature was fast for it’s decayed state and managed to block the blow with it’s shield though the force managed to stagger it causing it to lower it’s shield offering an opening, Seizing the opportunity Helga pointed her pistol at the champion’s chest crying “Die Heretic” before firing point blank punching a massive hole in it’s chest, thinking she had defeated her opponent she turned to kill another.

However just as she turned a massive force smacked into her causing a terrible pain sending her into the nearest wall with a sickening crack causing her to slump down to the ship’s deck blood poured from her mouth, every bone in her body seemed to be broken as she was unable to move. As she gazed up she noticed the Champion still standing it’s power fist covered in blood, it had a smoking hole in its chest but seemed unfazed by it’s grievous wound ‘Foolish” it scolded little more than a ghostly whisper but which seemed to bore into Helga’s head. As the last sister was slain another Plague marine approached the champion “Morbidius” it intoned in a deathly whisper it’s eyes blazing with a sickly witchfire, “they are dead, we must get moving, the engines will detonate but there is still much we must do that the Prophet has ordered”

“Yes” the champion Morbidius said “ onwards my brothers, we bring death to the living leave this one to her comrades” laughing at it’s last comment before making their way down the corridor

Helga Tried to rise to her feet but was unable to move, hearing the sound of shambling feet she turned her head to see her fallen sister’s slowly rise to their feet

“Yes my Sisters, let the Emperor grant you the strength to rise, prepare to smite th- “ her words turning to ash in her mouth as she noticed the hungry dead stare they directed at her with their flesh rapidly decaying as the foul sorcery which was sustaining them slowly corrupting their flesh. Joined by more zombies the zombie sisters rushed the helpless cannoness beginning to devour her still living whilst she screamed before the engines detonated engulfing her and the zombies in a blazing inferno.

Morbidius the Graveborn

An undead champion of mighty power, the one known as the Graveborn leads the raids of the Heralds of Salvation launching horrifying boarding actions that leave ships desolate hulks filled with rotten corpses. As the right hand of the Necromancer Michael Vilepox, Morbidius serves his dark master seeing him as a holy prophet of Nurgle tasked with bringing the gift of death to the living.

The Graveborn's is decayed Revenant clad in Archaic armour from a forgotten era wielding a powerfist alongside a mighty boarding shield capable of shrugging off the heaviest of firepower ignoring even grevious wounds that would kill the living. Always at the head of a similar armed band of Plague Marine boarding squads the one known as the Graveborn has become a deadly threat to the Imperium

Finally I have done the fluff looks like I fulfilled my vow on time biggrin.png

Chaeron Venerable Brother

Chaeron

Posted
Posted

A brief bio...

 

He pulled his hood closer around his head, concealing his more avian features within the shadows lest he draw too much attention to himself. His cloak whipped around him as he crossed the road and ducked into the local tavern, and the comfort of an empty, secluded booth. It was busy, as befitting of the season, with many off-duty soldiers utilising their break celebrating the Saint’s birthday to relax and unwind from the front in the arms of alcohol and women. Scanning the bar with his hawk-like eyes, he spotted a lone drinker engrossed in contemplating his beverage, feeling his state of mind and knowing him to be perfect for this task. Slipping through the throng, he sidled behind the trooper, laying his hands upon his shoulder in a comradely gesture and began to whisper delicious lies into his ear. Holding the guardsman's rapt attention, and the boisterous masses within the tavern otherwise engaged with their merriment, no one saw the third hand slip from a fold in the cloak nor the sickly glowing athame prick the soldier and draw blood. Concealing the weapon once more within his robes, he took out and placed the suicide note into the pocket of the man who was about to become complicit in this scheme, before taking leave and slipping out into the darkness. He waited until Trooper Yevin started loosing shots on full auto within the crowded bar and for the screaming to start before cawing with delight and melting into the darkness, to look for other ways to alter the course of this war and herald the coming of the end times.

 

And some background, for the Legion:

 

Over time, even the mightiest legions require reinforcement. The 4th Great Company has lurched from strength to strength since the Heresy, and continues to grow ever stronger with the power of the warp, with many flocking to its banner: marine, mutant and daemon alike. From vicious daemon engines of new creation, to immutable Plague Marines, the core of the Legion is represented most stoically by this long-serving, battle-hardened company. More organised that many other rivals post-Heresy, both within the Legion and outside, this preparation has stood them in good stead for their conquests and goes some way to explaining both their current strength and how they continue to grow and expand in the 41st millennium.

 

Whilst fully in the embrace of Nurgle, these followers have not taken on many of the physical gifts that would otherwise mutate and deform them, and look to maintain working vehicles and armour so as to supplement their cause. A variety of older Marks of battle plate can be seen worn by Terminators and by the rank and file within the core of the legion too, in addition to those that have been scavenged and hastily repaired to ensure that constant conquest remains a viable possibility.

 

Boasting a fearsome array of machines, supplemented by daemonic summoning, and a careful choice of mercenary allies and those who have been convinced to join the cause, there is a fundamental belief in the overarching unity of the Legion and its purposes. It is this drive that maintains both this order and battlefield dominance, allowing for nearly any combination of units to be fielded depending upon the opponent, and to operate in any theatre required of it. This diversity is seen as a strength by both ally and enemy alike, and as such offers a powerful psychological tool in addition to what the company can utilise when mobilising for war.

 

A recent raid on a forge world has allowed for the modification of two Baneblades into Plague Reapers, as well as recruiting a rare renegade Imperial Knight with allegiance to the Legio Mortis to the swelling ranks. Rumours abound of the desire to obtain a Warhound and other Titans, which would perhaps fully round off a company that is growing ever stronger and larger, and to cement this company as the largest known in the history of the Death Guard. The mantra of “We are Legion” is most appropriate for arguably one of the Imperium’s greatest known threats, in the form of organised Chaos.

Kizzdougs Venerable Brother

Kizzdougs

Posted
Posted

Borghast (formerly brother Lorente of the Angels Encarmine), the Gorehound, Reaper of Angels, Black hand of Urkanthos.

 

 

Veteran brother Lorente served the Angels Encarmine with distinction and honour. He had risen through the ranks of the Chapter’s third company, serving under the famed Captain Tacion. It was during the cleansing of Cepheus Hive that brother Lorente earned his veteran’s laurel, leading his assault squad to strike down the rebellion’s Arch-Heretic, the rogue psyker, Cardinal Xystus. In the immediate aftermath of his victory, Lorente was lauded and celebrated for his courage and fortitude but as time passed many noted a marked difference in the bearing of the Hero of Cepheus Hive. As he threw himself into each new engagement with ever-increasing fury, some began to whisper that the dark sorceries of Xystus had left their mark on his soul. Others attributed it to the curse that afflicts all sons of Sanguinius. The matter came to a head on the killing fields of Auriga II.

 

In a single night of carnage, brother Lorente and four of his squad mates succumbed to the Black Rage. Driven on by glorious images of Sanguinius, his battle brothers, resplendent in their now alabaster battle plate, fell upon the forces of the Arch Enemy with renewed vigour. Unlike his brothers, Lorente was plagued by far darker visions. Where his brothers refought the glorious last stand of their doomed Primarch, brother Lorente’s mind drowned in an ocean of blood and slaughter. Lorente was last seen wading through a sea of corps, his once white armour darkened by blood and the filth of battle. After the pacification of Auriga II he was presumed dead and his name entered into the Chapter’s great tome of the fallen.

 

As fate would have it, brother Lorente arose from the slaughter of Auriga II reborn in the blood of his former brothers. He now prowls the void as Borghast, the Gorehound, Black Hand of Urkanthos, Hound of Abaddon. Clad in the black of vengeance and wielding the dread axe gifted to him by his new master. Once a warrior of courage and honour, he fights only for blood and ambition.

 

http://i1122.photobucket.com/albums/l522/kizzdougs/DSCN3135_zps22ec063d.jpg

 

http://i1122.photobucket.com/albums/l522/kizzdougs/DSCN3133_zps9d26d228.jpg

 

http://i1122.photobucket.com/albums/l522/kizzdougs/DSCN3132_zps5ece19b3.jpg

 

http://i1122.photobucket.com/albums/l522/kizzdougs/DSCN3131_zpsc3921e76.jpg

 

 

 

Awesome work everyone!

 

I'm just putting these pictures up so that I have something to show. I'm still trying to work on the fluff (I struggle with creative writing) and will add it to the images once it is completed (fingers crossed).

 

 

Edited for fluff.

B E N Battle-Brother

B E N

Posted
Posted

Here's the background:

 

Ratherax, the Cleaver

 

Ratherax was initiated into the World Eaters legion in late M30, and after volunteering for implantation of the Butcher’s Nails, quickly rose through the ranks until he earned the right to wear terminator armor into battle. At the start of the Horus Heresy, Ratherax gladly followed his primarch, and followed his legion into the eye of terror after Horus’s defeat.

 

After the splintering of the World Eaters Legion in the aftermath of the burning of Skalathrax, Ratherax gathered a small cadre of Khorne Berzerkers and forged them into a new warband. The Cleavers of Khorne, as they now called themselves, rampaged in and out of the eye of terror, razing and pillaging chaos and imperial worlds alike. Ratherax held a particular hatred for the Emperor’s Children, who he held responsible for the fall of his beloved legion, and took great glee in personally leading the charge against them whenever the opportunity presented itself.

 

In late M40, Ratherax and his Cleavers of Khorne made planet-fall on the daemon world Coraaxi to claim a Black Legion-held blood temple of Khorne for himself. The surprised and outnumbered defenders were quickly overcome, and the temple captured. However, Black Legion seers had predicted the attack, and so mere hours after the victory a massive Black Legion force besieged the temple. The Cleavers of Khorne howled as one, and manned the defensive positions they had just overcome. The siege was brutal and bloody, with neither side being able to break through the other’s entrenched positions. Ultimately, attrition and the Cleaver of Khorne’s relatively small numbers became the deciding factor, and by the 8th day, Ratherax was the lone survivor of his warband after a final Black Legion assault. Standing on the steps of the temple, surrounded by the bodies of his own men and Black Legion alike, he yelled a challenge, preparing to take as many skulls as he could along with him. His last stand was not to be however, as Urkrathos, the Lord Purgator under Abaddon, was impressed by the brutality in which Ratherax fought. Urkrathos delivered Ratherax a simple ultimatum, by patching directly into the comm system in Ratherax’s terminator armour: “Die here, and be forgotten, or take on the mantle of the Black Legion and slaughter for Abaddon and Khorne until the fall of the false Emperor.” Ratherax growled a begrudging acceptance, and was transported up to the Black Legion fleet. He eventually took command of the force that he had fought on Coraaxi, and reforged his armour to display the Eye of Horus.

 

Ratherax, and his now hardened Black Legion charges, are currently taking skulls for the blood god on the fortress world of Cadia, as a crucial part of Abaddon’s 13th black crusade.

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