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++ March of the Legions: XIX Legion ++


Hyaenidae

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Can't wait to see it... er... Kurama.

 

Beer. Can I just call you Beer? Is that cool?

 

Anyway, I love this March of the Legions thing. I've finished two figures in 2 months! Like, with paint and everything! That's a record for me!

 

I've already got a wee bit of a head start for my Sallie, 'cause I'm gonna resurrect an older conversion I never finished.

http://i1252.photobucket.com/albums/hh567/Vidius22/Mobile%20Uploads/photo_zpsc54aa613.jpg

 

http://i1252.photobucket.com/albums/hh567/Vidius22/Mobile%20Uploads/photo_zps0b9cac48.jpg

 

http://i1252.photobucket.com/albums/hh567/Vidius22/Mobile%20Uploads/photo_zps98b0f787.jpg

 

http://i1252.photobucket.com/albums/hh567/Vidius22/Mobile%20Uploads/photo_zps788d2caa.jpg

 

http://i1252.photobucket.com/albums/hh567/Vidius22/Mobile%20Uploads/photo_zps0c318df5.jpg

 

Captain Remus Narcus

 

Captain, XXIX Assault Company, XIX Legio.

Terran born, served with distinction during numerous campaigns. Pictured here during the "Dropsite massacre" on Isstvan V. 

 

Remus is carrying a hand crafted thunder hammer that he took from a fallen Salamander captain after his own weapons had been destroyed during the initial assault. Remus tallied 39 confirmed kills during the opening stages of the battle. 

 

Remus had the honour of accompanying his Primarch, Corax during the initial assault. His current status is unknown, last seen leading the remains of his company towards the initial landing zones, as the reinforcements of the Word Bearers legion made planetfall.

 

 

Here's my entry for this month! Apologies for the fluff side, I'm not the greatest at writing!

My entry is complete, and has been for days, but good photos allude me, so here is the fluff and I'll add the pics in when I get some good ones.

++ Subject: Brother Singh ++

++ Status: Loyalist, XIX Legion ++

++ Location: Deceased, Istvaan V ++

++ Time-stamp: =]DATA CORRUPTED[= ++

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Legionary Singh stood immobile in the darkness, shrouded from the twilight beneath a rocky overhang. His modified MKVI power armour was at minimal power usage, all but undetectable to the five Iron Warriors below. He and the two remaining members of his Assault Squad had been skirmishing with these Iron Warriors for the better part of a week. The Iron Warriors had been relentless in their pursuit of the Raven Guard Assault Squad, their initial chance encounter had left the Raven Guard with six and the Iron Warriors with thirteen.

Several steps more and the Iron Warriors would trigger Brother Ghelt’s boob trap, a krak grenade beneath the black sand, signalling the ambush. The Raven Guard had lured the Iron Warriors into a small canyon, full of columns and outcrops, perfect for the guerrilla warfare preferred by the Raven Guard. Running a mental check of his equipment, Brother Singh was acutely aware of his dwindling supply of bolt rounds. Every round would need to count.

An audible click echoed through the canyon as the lead Iron Warrior reached the buried grenade, he had just enough time to look down at his feet before being immolated in the resulting explosion. The force of the explosion knocking an Iron Warrior from his feet, and an expertly placed bolt round from Brother Rastus’ Stalker pattern Boltgun found the soft armour under the chin of a third Iron Warrior, blowing out his neck and taking off his head.

The wail of a turbine jetpack announced the arrival of Brother Ghelt, swinging an overhead blow he struck out with his two-handed chainsword at the neared Iron Warrior, who barely managed to deflect the blow with the flat of his Boltgun. With a faster than anticipated reaction, the Iron Warrior head-butted Ghelt, shattering his optical lenses and buckling his helm. A Stalker round rang off of the Iron Warrior’s pauldron, unperturbed, the Iron Warrior continued his assault on the blinded Raven Guard, knocking him to the ground with a bone-shattering leg sweep. Brother Rastus’ third and final round rang out, ricocheting from the Iron Warrior’s breastplate, buying Ghelt the time to prime and detonate his final krak grenade, taking both legionnaires out in a blast of fire and smoke.

Having located Brother Rastus’ position, the remaining two Iron Warriors opened fire, backing away from Ghelt’s fiery resting place. With their back’s turned, Singh dropped from his perch amid the rocks, activating his chainsword at the last moment and driving it vertically straight down the spine of the closest Iron Warrior. His sword was ripped from his grip as the Iron Warrior tumbled to the ground, already having raised his pistol he unloaded his final five rounds into the helm of the last Iron Warrior as he turned to face the new threat, the final round finding an eye lens and blowing out the back of Iron Warriors skull.

Singh removed his helm and awaited Brother Rastus to descend from the rocks above. As he approached, Brother Rastus extended his gauntlet in a warriors greeting, Singh took it, a smile on his face. Even before he could speak, a piercing pain erupted in his chest, Rastus had slid his blade beneath Singh’s extended arm, through the weaker armour ribbing puncturing both his primary and secondary hearts. Confusion spread across Singh’s face as he tumbled flat on his back, Rastus squatted beside him removing his helm. It revealed a face Singh didn’t recognise with a tattoo he did, a Hydra beneath Rastus’ left eye upon his cheek.

Rastus leaned forward and whispered “For the Emperor” into Singh’s ear. He then stood and set about the Iron Warriors, collecting a full suit of armour from their remains, and discarding his own. In his new suit, Rastus walked back to where Singh lay, gasping his last breaths. “Now my real mission begins”.

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Ok here's my entry with bad photos.

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Diocail, Destroyer squad member of the XIX Legion

A Terran born legionaire of few words and who cared little for accolades or glory. It is this attitude that prevented him from rising in the ranks and eventually found him a spot in a Destroyer squad, a role he found rather fulfilling.

He was spared the fate of joining other Terran legionaires in the nomad fleets beyond the Imperial borders. He was present and survived the worst tragedies the legion faced, the Battle of Gate 42 and the Dropsite Massacare. These two events left their mark on Diocail. He was now one of only a handful of Terrans left in the legion. He became withdrawn and rarely spoke. On the battlefield he dove headlong into enemy emplacements and squads with little regard to his own safety. All records of him cease during the Scouring while in pursuit of members of the XVII Legion. His ultimate fate is unkown.

The only markings on his armor were his legion number and his repainted vambraces and gauntlets. They were repainted an ash gray as a sign of his surviving Gate 42 and Istvaan V as well as being of Terran descent.

Sergeant Eran of the Raven Guard ran, the heavy boots of his prey echoing ahead of him into an empty building. A bolt pistol was clutched in either hand, and the bandoleers from which the grenades the Destroyers were so feared for hung empty on his chest. The infravisor in his helmet painted his surroundings in a wash of different greens. He heard a cackling of the marine he hunted, the Night Lord a twisted mirror of the noble Raven Guard, that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere a once.

 

"Got you!" a voice whispered in his ear, and he hurled himself forwards into a roll as a lightning claw snapped closed where his left knee had been, catching a quick glimpse of midnight dark armour and a pallid face framed by lank black hair. He fired a volley as he came out of the roll, but the Night Lord had vanished again. He retreated to the shadows and watched for movement, as his Primarch had taught, constantly moving, never still for more than a heartbeat.

 

The Night Lord chuckled again, and this time Eran tracked the sound to the rafters. So that was where he was hiding. Eran's eyes narrowed as he sought a way into the high roof of the building. Hand over hand he pulled himself into the beams above, moving as silently as he was able. From his new vantage point he looked around, stalking carefully across the beams. He spotted a hunched figure beside one of the cross beams, staring intently at the floor below, searching for some hint of Eran's whereabouts.

 

Eran launched himself, tackling the Night Lord off the beam. The enemy warrior sought to twist as they fell so as to land on top of Eran, but he held firm, driving his enemy face first into the ground below. There was a sickening crunch, and the Night Lord rolled away and staggered to his feet, his lower jaw pulverised and nose broken and ran suspected a fractured skull as well.

 

All mirth was gone from the Night Lord's bloodied features and he launched himself at Eran with a bestial snarl, no longer playing and aiming to kill. Eran held his ground, firing his pistols and blowing chunks from his enemy's plate, before swiftly sidestepping the swinging claw aimed at his head and sweeping the Night Lord's feet out from under him. He stepped in to kick his fallen opponent, but wa forced to jump back as the Night Lord's talons shot out, gouging deeply into the armour of his shins. The Night Lord came forwards again, but Eran leapt at him, taking him by surprise and hammering a pistol wielding fist straight into his already damaged jaw, dropping his opponent to the floor. Eran stepped swiftly around the Night Lord as he struggled to rise.

 

The Night Lord froze as he felt the hard barrel of the pistol against the back of his head. "Any last words, traitor?" Eran asked. With his ruined jaw the Night Lord could only howl in frustration, a terrible bestial sound.

 

It was cut off by the bark of the bolt pistol, and the headless body dropped to the floor in a clatter of plate. Eran holstered his pistols and quickly scavenged the ammo the Night Lord had carried and moved off through the night. There were many more traitors on this world to kill.

 

http://i1246.photobucket.com/albums/gg605/Castiel25/Mobile%20Uploads/IMG_20141231_031545_zps9919b282.jpg

http://i1246.photobucket.com/albums/gg605/Castiel25/Mobile%20Uploads/IMG_20141231_031526_zps54ffed2b.jpg

http://i1246.photobucket.com/albums/gg605/Castiel25/Mobile%20Uploads/IMG_20141231_031515_zpse67577ac.jpg

http://i1246.photobucket.com/albums/gg605/Castiel25/Mobile%20Uploads/IMG_20141231_031552_zpsaabf033f.jpg

http://i1246.photobucket.com/albums/gg605/Castiel25/Mobile%20Uploads/IMG_20141231_031611_zpsc880f8ba.jpg

 

Terrible photos I'm afraid, but I'm in the middle of moving house and can't get a better set up just now. Still, vow complete!

Vow completed!

 

http://i1006.photobucket.com/albums/af182/Zujara/Legions/xix1_zpsb78cebc6.jpg

 

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   Centurion Senan was a patient commander and skilled infiltrator, epitomizing the way the XIX waged war. During the battle on Istvaan V, his unit was waiting for their moment to strike at the Death Guard when the Loyalists came under attack from their reinforcements. Hurrying back to their Primarch, Senan and his men engaged the Word Bearers. Senan slew many of the traitors, and was last seen combatting the Gal Vorbak that were after his Primarch.

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http://i826.photobucket.com/albums/zz184/Lamenterkyle/Mobile%20Uploads/20141231_082445_zps05761e16.jpg

 

http://i826.photobucket.com/albums/zz184/Lamenterkyle/Mobile%20Uploads/20141231_082433_zps6f98a7d7.jpg

 

http://i826.photobucket.com/albums/zz184/Lamenterkyle/Mobile%20Uploads/20141231_082433_zps6f98a7d7.jpg

 

tap tap tap....

 

Tap tap tap...

 

I heard a rapping, as of someone gently tapping, rapping at my land raider doors. The plains of Isstvaan full of thunder, the shells and bombs and beneath they sunder, all this I hear from behind my land raider doors. Then a tapping, I send up Bo'seng, to check out the cupola to see what's at the land raider doors. He drops down headless, clearly dead, much like poor Len'or. I scream in hate, another brother taken, by this inter legionary war. I press the stud, to open up the land raider doors, they drop with a thud, screaming hate for the killer of Bo'seng and Len'or. My squad mates charge forth, dropping, one, two, three, four, all dead outside, I step forward to meet the killer, end him by wounds of a dozen score.

 

Tap tap tap...

 

tap tap tap...

 

I heard a rapping, as of someone gently tapping, the killer of Len'or. I spin to see, my fate springs at me, quoth the Raven "Nevermore"

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