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++ March of the Legions: XX Legion ++


Hyaenidae

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Okey-dokey then (if you want a nice effect put on the soundtrack, its what inspired the work):

 

 

He ran. He had not ran so fast in his life. For 27 years, Gregoris Althur had been the lord goberner of Qelea ever since his Imperial fleet had found the planet and added it to the Emperors domain. For 27 years he had never the most powerfull and respected man in his realm and his subjects had bowed to him, none daring to opose him. And yet now he ran.

 

He hurried down the dark alley, pasing by statues of himself, ancient people forgotten from the pages of history and symbols of the Imperiums might. Finally, he reached the Gates of Triumph, a giant building of white stone with a golden Eagle carved into it, and kept running into the burning streets. He thought to himself he would be able to loose the assassins in the city streets, among the smoke and fire. These nameless assassins who had come from the shadows and mercilessly killed his body guard but had failed to kill him. Or perhabs that was not their intention.

 

He stopped and went into a small alley and hid behind a column. He had felt like he was being watched ever since they first appeared. He was a nervous wreck, trembling with fear, barely able to concentrate, his breath hissing in and out of his lungs after the immens physical stress and the adrenaline. He took a deep breath and thought to himself that finally, FINALLY, he had lost those assassins. A smug grin appeared on his face. Finally...

 

His last thought was interrupted as a mass-reactive shell exploded a meter above his head, carving deeply into the stone and covering him in dust and shrapnel. He turned and looked down the alley. All he could see was a figure blending into its surroundings, as if it was there and not there at the same time. And its eyes. To burning red eyes that stared at him, burning into his mind. He pulled his pistol attempting but shoot at the figure, but in three long steps it had grabbed his arm and broken his wrist in one quick movement. It released his hand and grabbed him around his neck, lifting him up from the ground, looking straight at him. Gregoris, started panting and coughing, small droplets of blood leaving his lips as he spoke: "Who... What... are... You?..."

 

"I am Alpharius. I am legion.". There was a loud crack as the space marine twisted his wrist and broke Gregoris neck. After 27 years thinking he was immortal, Gregoris Althur finally succumbed to the destiny of all men: Death.

 

The marine recorded the death of the Lord Gobernor as proof. As he walked away, blending into the shadows once again he opened a vox link to his commanding officers: "Ithus here. The traitor is dead."

 

Be gentle, Im not a great writter :P

Damn you all to hell, I'm meant to be doing coursework. :p

 

 

 

I, TOTR (Alpharius), accept my role in this.

I promise to lead the XX Legion into the zone of war, and conduct them to glory.

I will do so no matter the ferocity or ingenuity of the foe.

I pledge my honour to the XX Legion.

On this matter, and by this weapon, I swear.

My fluff at the moment

 

Konstantin Brankovič

981.M30 Pict Capture during the Pacification of Andapa II

 

This Centurion of the Alpha Legion is shown wearing an unknown mark of Power Armour and carrying a heavily modified Phobos pattern boltgun.  This marine was extracted following the fall of Andapa II, the capital world of the Andapa system.  The arrival of the 89th Expedition Fleet found the system in upheaval, easily capitulating to the show of force, following an extended period of planet-wide disruption. Reports include explosions at munition factories, assassinations of key political, religious and military figures, destruction of the transport infrastructure.  Although there was little military action from the fleet at large, only 10 Marines made it off planet and the casualty rate for the Legion is not recorded [the records states 0%, which has been discounted as an error].

This is the state of my contemptor as of now. think I went too heavy on the Shade so its pretty dark. Hopefully, when all is said and done, it looks slightly brighter when I get around to the highlights.

 

 

May also just be the lighting :p

So here's where I'm at

 

http://i1279.photobucket.com/albums/y524/Taron_James_Beer/Mobile%20Uploads/2014-11-06175528_zpse5da8c7c.jpg

 

http://i1279.photobucket.com/albums/y524/Taron_James_Beer/Mobile%20Uploads/2014-11-06181757_zpsf492015d.jpg

Just a W.I.P. for now.. This is what you want, yes?

 

 

Brother Martell 'Ash Walker', Destroyer of the XX Legion

 

 

http://i915.photobucket.com/albums/ac352/Noctus-Cornix/20141106_232558_zps8dfc5e68.jpg

 

http://i915.photobucket.com/albums/ac352/Noctus-Cornix/20141106_232611_zps5a568c46.jpg

 

http://i915.photobucket.com/albums/ac352/Noctus-Cornix/20141106_232539_zps3c61df89.jpg

No model to show yet, but here's some fluff on my entry.

 

 

    The chamber smelled of the sacred oils of the Mechanicus, the bitter tang of atomized metal, and the sweat of the indentured and the servitors. The screech and whine of the numerous machining stations was dampened by his helmet's autosensors. Immediately upon entering, the Forge Lord turned and beckoned him over.

    "Welcome," a cold, monotone voice said over his vox as he made his way over, weaving between workbenches and giant machine tools. "I understand you worked closely with Forge Lord Astus."

    "I did," he replied simply. This new Forge Lord Korza was massive, standing nearly two heads above him. All four of his limbs were cybernetic replacements, and none of them had been crafted with even the slightest recognition for the lost flesh "He understood the need for what I do and took great care and pride in fashioning my wares. I don't know you."

    "You will find that Astus and I are of a similar mind," Korza said. "You can do with one weapon that which an entire Company might not. That is the utmost expression of efficiency; something that I show great respect for. Please?" he asked, and indicated a door to to his left. Silently, it slid open at a signal from the Forge Lord.

    Stepping inside, he found a small room containing only a workbench, and to his surprise, a mockup of his weapon in a dark wood. Korza followed him inside, heavy boots thunking loudly on the metal floor, and the door sealed shut, cutting off the noise of the workshop.

    "Wood?" he asked, incredulous.

    Korza's pale face moved, showing the barest hint of a smile. "One of my eccentricities, so I am told. I prefer it for drafting one's work. It is faster, and in my hands, as malleable as clay. I must confess that I have a fondness for the smell, and as a child, I learned on my father's lathe with wood."

    "You don't think I'll break it?"

    Korza moved past him and lifted the mockup of the rifle. "At this thickness, it would take some effort. It is called zelnahash and comes from a planet brought back to the Emperor's fold a few decades ago. The indigenous translation means 'ironwood', and given its weight and strength, the name is apt." Carefully, almost reverently, Korza held the mockup out at arms' length.

    With equal care, the astartes took it and nodded his approval of the shape. This Korza had paid careful attention to the notes and drawings he had made. Then he noticed what appeared to be a thin layer of dark foam on the stock. "What is this?"

    "Something of my own design," Korza said cryptically. "I understand you prefer to fire prone, yes?"

    "When possible."

    "Please," Korza said, and gestured at the floor in front of the bench. "Take up your normal position, and be mindful not to apply too much pressure to the foam."

    With a doubtful expression he was glad that his helmet kept hidden, he knelt down and then stretched out onto the floor. There was a real scope and bipod on the weapon, and he extended the legs of the bipod, appreciating how it operated silently. He snugged the stock in tight to the armor over his right shoulder and found a good spot to rest the cheek of his helmet. It was considerably longer than his normal sniper rifle and it took him another four minutes to adjust the bipod legs to a favorable height and find a comfortable position for both hands.

    "Do you have it now?" Korza asked.

    "I have," he replied. He could remain in this position for days on end, if need be.

    "Excellent. Apply pressure with your right hand and cheek until you feel the foam give."

    He did as the Forge Lord bade, feeling the foam crinkle and give way, then instantly turn as hard as the wood. "Ah, it is setting the shape," he said. Standing up, he handed the mockup back to Korza with a new found respect for the man.

    With several deft movements, Korza removed the stock and set the rest of the wooden rifle aside. A mechandendrite from his back snaked between his right arm and his body, plugging into a female socket that had connected the stock to the body of the rifle and held it up vertically in front of him. The segmented metal plates covering Korza's palms, like a the metal iris of a picter shutter, slid open to reveal a large, dark lens in each hand. Bright red light erupted from the lenses and cast a grid upon the stock as the mechandentrite slowly rotated it. Once it had been scanned from every angle, the red light went off and the palm plates slid back into position. The mechandendrite set the stock down on the work bench and disconnected from it.

    "I shall have it ready for your inspection within ninety-four minutes," the Forge Lord announced.

    With a blink-click, he noted the time on his chron. "And the rest of the weapon? To my specifications?"

    Korza nodded slightly. "I did have to make some modifications based on a series of tests I ran: The greater stress placed on the action and barrel, even crafted from adamantine, would not have held up to the powder load you specified at the dimensions you notated for any appreciable number of shots. As you know, a bolter does not have to deal with such pressures, and while the Phobos is a sturdy frame to work from, I was required to increase the thickness of the components. Also, the volume level you required from the suppressor, without unduly affecting accuracy, necessitated that it be larger. The size increase in the action and barrel will be negligible, but the weight increase from both the extra adamantine and the larger suppressor will be noticeable, thus, I am crafting as many components as I can from a titanium alloy."

    He could find no fault with the Forge Lord's logic, but he would recheck the numbers against the planet's data again to make sure he had not erred. "What will the final dimensions be?"

    "Empty, I estimate it to be 3.14 meters in length with a weight of 73.61 kilograms. A full magazine of fifteen 20 millimeter rounds will add another 3.8 kilograms.

    Heavy, but not unmanageable when broken down, however, shooting from any position but prone could pose a problem. "When can I expect it to be ready for testing?"

    The Forge Lord's features went slack as he calculated. "Twenty-one hours, thirteen minutes, given no setbacks."

    "I'll return in twenty-two, then," Exodus said, and left the workshop.
 

 

 

(And yes, I am building a monster of a rifle for this guy.)

Is it jokingly named the compensator? :p

 

That said, nearly tripling the length of a phobos and making it a sniper is pretty amazing. 

 

Another consideration : Bullpup configuration or would've that been too much work?

3 Minutes...

 

The metallic voice had an eerie echo in his vox, his tech-adept assistant apparantely had not yet gotten used to her new voice after the plasma coolant accident a few days ago. But a mechanicus member was neccessary when trying to sabotage the inner workings of the enemy outpost, so he just had to deal with it. The readyness-checks of his jump-pack and armour was listed in green on his display one by one, being thorough was neccessary when being on a long mission such as this, alone and unsupported.

 

2 Minutes...

 

The door to the landing craft slowly opened. The snowy landscape that was rushing past him reminded him of his childhood in the Skandian region back on Terra. He still remembered his parents happy faces when he had been selected for service, and sometimes wondered what false memories had been implanted afterwards. He had always been good at the region's various ball-sports, maybe a scholarship off-world? Maybe a cultural ambassador to a newly complied world? Maybe... The small smile that had spread on his face quickly disappeared again as he began to get back to the details of his mission.

 

1 Minute...

 

Factory outpost 346-Beta on Oliveran Secundus handled the production and delivery of protein-rations to certain parts of the planetary forces of the Imperial Army. The interruption of that supply was imperative to the legion, and needed to be timed well. His guess was that operatives in the Imperial Army would have an easier job delivering units to the legion cause with the lack of food...but that was just his guess. In reality it could be almost anything, and his part was as important as anyone elses part. One part of the machinery of the legion.

 

5

 

Checks complete, armour and jump-pack 100% functional.

 

4

 

Weapons readied and loaded.

 

3

 

Safety straps unhooked, Jump-pack set to idle.

 

2

 

Landing area targeted, coordinates displayed

 

1

 

Here we go.

 

Spectre five, operation start!

 

 

http://imageshack.com/a/img674/9545/jvGXny.jpg

Is it jokingly named the compensator? tongue.png

That said, nearly tripling the length of a phobos and making it a sniper is pretty amazing.

Another consideration : Bullpup configuration or would've that been too much work?

I jokingly refer to it in my head as Down Range. I considered a bullpup, but with how slow I work, the time limit for the challenge and my participation in two other time-sensitive challenges, I just made a big ass rifle out of it.

BCK: looking forward to seeing it finished!

Me too, but don't expect my version of Exodus to look anything like the illustration in Extermination; I think that armor is a bit too ostentatious and impractical for someone who's supposed to be, essentially, a scout.

Well this explains all the AL coming out of hiding thumbsup.gif

Join the March!

Join the March!

Already doing the Call of Chaos and a Secret Santa (plus resisting two non-GW systems and other models). If I realised much earlier then I may have. I do have some bits for when the Night Lords have their turn.

 

Join the March!

Already doing the Call of Chaos and a Secret Santa (plus resisting two non-GW systems and other models). If I realised much earlier then I may have. I do have some bits for when the Night Lords have their turn.

 

Well, according to Heathens we're going in reverse order so next Legion is Raven Guard, them Being XIXth Legion. Waiting till Night Lords may be a while :P

 

 

 

Join the March!

Already doing the Call of Chaos and a Secret Santa (plus resisting two non-GW systems and other models). If I realised much earlier then I may have. I do have some bits for when the Night Lords have their turn.

Well, according to Heathens we're going in reverse order so next Legion is Raven Guard, them Being XIXth Legion. Waiting till Night Lords may be a while :P
I may just about be ready for then ;)

 

November 2015 I make that :tu:

Larris Kalk stood over the kneeling astartes in pitch black plate,his bolt pistol wavering before the others helmless face.

sergeant Erasmus Ruemer looked up at the emotionless grill of Kalks helmet,his black lifeless eyes symbolic of the Ravenguard staring now full of amazement and incredulity

 

  "Kalk....this is madness!!" he spat vehemently through gritted teeth .

"we are brothers....sons of the allfather ..we have fought together ..bled together...how many worlds have crumbled beneath our boots?"

the emotionless almost mechanical voice boomed back from Kalk's grill 

 

"the war has changed brother..the truth is out and the emperors way is a lie and must end for all mankind."

 

the bolt pistol made the final word, it barked once,the booming crack echoing around the chamber as Ruemer toppled clumsily to the floor a look of shock etched forever on his face below the steaming fist sized crater in his forehead.

 

Kalk turned away from the man he had called brother for twenty years and activated his vox

 

"brothers this is Larris Kalk ...it is time to unveil yourselves .our brothers are now the enemy ,take no quarter ...show no mercy

we have work to do 

 

hydra dominatus

 

 

Larris Kalk in full legion plate 

 

http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y30/daemonclaw/DSCN0757_zpse00faf4c.jpghttp://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y30/daemonclaw/DSCN0754_zps47444169.jpghttp://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y30/daemonclaw/DSCN0756_zpsc66cf616.jpghttp://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y30/daemonclaw/DSCN0755_zpsc844a1aa.jpghttp://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y30/daemonclaw/DSCN0753_zpsf757009e.jpg

 

cheers heathens for a fun break from the norm

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