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Daemonic Pact 3 Voting


Uprising

Daemonic Pact 3   

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Ok, its voting time everyone. Everyone get a vote for each of the following category: Fluff, Conversion, Painting, and best overall(combination of Fluff, Conversion, Painting). YOU CAN NOT VOTE FOR YOURSELF! we may be back stabbers, but we have some pride. Please state your best overall in the post below.

Polls end on 1/27/2015.

Rewards:

If pass your vow you can add this signature: The Eye of the gods

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A poll with all the successful vows will be posted and the overall winner will get to use the Daemonhood banner.

(And has the honour of deciding the next pact theme)

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Best Fluff winner gets the Scribe of Chaos

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Best Paint Job winner gets the Artisan of Chaos

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Best Conversion winner gets the Dark Mechanicus

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But...if you fail you must add this banner to your signature until you complete a future Daemon Pact: The Spawn of Chaos

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**Forte will add a poll shortly, later tonight**

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Our Brave souls that completed the challenge

Tenebris

Prince Salastan the Philospher

http://shrani.si/f/17/7p/48ceElXc/1/2015-01-08-174916.jpg

(yeah bad paint job but I hope the fluff compensates tongue.png )

To whom this dreaded name belongs, to whom it will answer. Salastan, Sll'st the Imperturbable, Sal Slas'Tan of the Eye, these and many more names echo across the nether realm but all resonate with a single essence, with a single purpose. In life Slathok the Philosopher was a son, a son to Magnus the Red, he was also a brother, your brother, a brother to a thousand brothers, and he was also one of the "gifted". Slathok begun his career as a Thousand Sons when he was embraced by the legion on his home world of Prospero. Little the daemon now recalls of his childhood but he indeed recalls his life under the vivid sky in a city of glass and brass.

The gift manifested itself early, even before he was harvested for the legion, even before he was one of the chosen ones. Even then Slathok was a psyker, one of the rare individuals with the third sight, though not so rare on the soil of holy Prospero. Soon the aspirant grew in a novitiate, soon Slathok entered in the many circles of learning and debate which were imperative in his legion. As battles went Slathok fought in them, but he never payed much mind to the slaughters he committed or the lives he took, no, Slathok was a scholar and his mind's eye was soaring above such petty matters, right there in the endless ocean of the Warp, with his brothers at his side.

Then the wolves came and then for the first time in his life Slathok felt the bitter kiss of an axe. Then for the first time he tasted his own blood on his lips, then Slathok for the first time understood the pain of existence, and then he sought to change it. Many sons of Prospero speak of a sorcerer unleashing devastating spells upon the Fenrisian wolves, careless how many died by his hand, disinterested when his own body begun to writhe and change. No Slathok learned there and then what is truly to be a space marine, what truly means to be alive, to be above the enumerations so sacred to his kin, there, on the blood soaked battlefield of Prospero, Slathok of the Eye felt alive for the first time in his centuries old life.

When the legion was shattered by the sorcery of his father and when Slathok and his kin have found themselves in the very madness itself, it was there that Slathok heard the song of life, of endless change, of endless possibility. Observing his body he could see talons tearing from his flesh, his armor merged with his skin, his form once a temple of purity now a creature on the cusp of enlightenment. In that moment Slathok simply rose his hands to the winds of Sortiarius, greeting them as the caress of his new master swooped him into the currents of destiny.

Centuries have passed, perhaps even thousands or tens of thousands of years, or mere minutes, mere seconds, but in the endless ocean of the Warp, Slathok swam, his form ethereal, his consciousness barely given a form. Vistas of magnificent worlds ripe with ever changing life greeted him, sounds he never heard before, languages he understood at levels beyond mortal speech. Tzeentch was generous with his champion, taking the form of Slathok across the vast realm of the Eye.

As time lost its significance, as concepts of brotherhood and duty were merely dreams to him, as his mind rose and soared above the chaos of the Warp, Slathok begun to think and this mere act of imposing order to an ever changing state offended the mighty Tzeentch, thus Slathok of the Eye was cast down, down on crude earth once more.

Now a mere fragment of a bright soul, lost and cast adrift on a forgotten planet Slathok did feel the yearning for the freedom his master granted him, he yearned to be once more a part of the eternal sea. But the spirit that was once Slathok could wander no more, for how can one move when he forget how a creature walks, how can he fight when he forgot what struggle meant to be... Tears of blood run down the hallowed face of the spirit, tears of rage, despair, of longing... Slathok would shatter there and then to a myriad of fragments, embracing his god for one last time yet a voice spoke, a calm voice, a learned voice, a ... commanding voice, a voice Slathok knew to whom it belonged and shivered with the notion of fear...

"Are you lost, little spirit? Have you wandered too far from the gaze of your father? Did you dare to fly to close to the sun until your waxen wings were no more? Like Icarus of old you have fallen, have you not, little spirit? Tell me, do you wish to fly again,... brother?"

It was in that moment that Slathok cursed for the first time his patron. A mere toy was he to mighty Tzeentch, a brother cursed twice now only to be a plaything to someone even more cruel than this flighty god...

"Abaddon..."

"The same, little spirit. I see you recognize me o great Slathok of the Eye. Tell me, do you wish to fly again... brother, and answer quickly for I will not ask a third time..."

"I do cousin of mine, I do wish to fly, but my wings were broken. I will... serve you Abaddon".

"Fly you will... clad in chains of black..."

And with that dreadful exchange, with those last, final prophetic words, the life of Slathok of the Eye, Magister of the Thousand Sons legion, his being, his world, ... all has shrunk into hateful form, into hateful stagnation... the walls closed in and the last beam of light was no more when Abaddon the Despoiler closed the urn.

It is so that Slathok of the Eye has become Salastan the Philosopher, his name taken from old Chtonian which means "djinni" and cast into the mockery of his existence. For eons the mighty Slathok swam the currents of the Warp, learning everything that Tzeentch was willing to show him, experiencing blissful change, blissful evolution. A daemon prince they call him, but I ask you this, how can a prince rule from an urn, how can he soar high when he is shackled by aetheric chains into an object with a single form... how can a prince of the Lord of Change experience change no more?

Arrogance, arrogance. Let it be this the lesson as you take in custody the Urn of Slathok. Arrogance is the essence of Salastan, he considers himself above me, above The Despoiler. He thinks that he will escape, but how can he escape from a prison he conjured for himself, how can he return to his beloved Raven God when he has wings no more. Arrogance, my lieutenant, arrogance is what keeps Salastan on my leash, now on your leash. Keep this in mind and the daemon prince will be yours to command. He is powerful, he is seductive, he is learned, but he is above all arrogant. The day your arrogance eclipses his own, it is the day that you and not he will be my next "salastan", my djinn. Remember Icarus of old, do not soar too high, lest the sun will burn your wings.

lucio

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Lord Zoster was formerly Apocathary Nightingale, a loyal member of the Fifth Company of the Crimson Sabres and part of the command squad of Lucius. When the Crimson Sabres became the Crimson Slaughter, Nightingale sided with Fulcus in the rebellion. As the warband morphed into the Quintos, Nightingale became obsessed with trying to prevent the warp tinged contagions that tormented his brothers. Time and time again he was defeated by the creations, spawn of Nurgle's will. Desperate for answers he turned to Zala'zarr for advice, and under his guidance, he stole part of the soul of a Plaguebringer, forcing it within his body. Whilst this caused suffering and pain upon his own body, he gained the power he wanted, he could take disease from his brothers into himself, suffering the afflictions until he was able to find a more deserving victim. In this, Papa Nurgle is both merciful and vengeful, the diseases are never cured, only incubated, but Nightingale gained his wish, his brothers were spared.

Chareon

http://i29.photobucket.com/albums/c254/TheNewAgeOutlaw/GW/GuOFront_zpsd9a57b33.jpg

http://i29.photobucket.com/albums/c254/TheNewAgeOutlaw/GW/GuOBack_zps23885d70.jpg

Short Biography:

There were once three brothers: an individual in triplicate, and with selfishness in abundance. Like all good siblings, they quarrelled. It was incessant: a desire to best the others, aggrandise oneself and be the centre of attention. It became a competition to see which of the three could achieve something that the others could not, and with time, these things became fewer and fewer. They pushed one another on to greater heights: feats of strength, contests and awards, but their prize was never satisfaction, for such desires can rarely be sated.

It is inevitable therefore that this drew attention that went beyond a local concern, and their competitive natures were seen as being wholesome by something that was in itself anything but. When one speaks of being ‘plagued by daemons’, it is passed off as a colloquialism, or figure of speech, rather than the more literal application of that phrase that consumed this trio.

Infected by Nurgle, one at a time, the brothers became hosts to the denizens of the warp, falling sick with a corruption that would meld their physical forms into corpulent gluttonous hosts for rot and decay. They accepted these gifts readily over time, as they grew larger and larger, embracing these changes as they saw to outdo their brothers even now with spurious personal hygiene and grotesque debasements of their bodies that were now hosts for all manner of disease.

Carnage reigned as supremely as they did, and their travels together conveyed many a world to an early demise. Eventually, this would lead to a reckoning – one that had been brewing for years upon end, and would settle this time-old argument of who truly was the greatest amongst them. Their respective forces clashed, with the three bloated brothers battling at the centre of an all-out war for control over the daemon world they all sought dominion over.

It lasted for several days, with untold atrocities committed in the name of the God that had spawned them all, with capricious Nurglings cavorting amongst the corpses of their fallen followers. At the end, one brother stood over the beaten bodies of his kin, and proclaimed himself Scabeiathrax, who would lord over the Blighted Pit. He granted mercy to his siblings, letting them leave with their lives, and charging them to conquer a daemon world for themselves, and so sowing the seeds for spreading their gifts through incursions out of the Eye of Terror.

It has been said that every seven years, the brothers come together to feast and out-do one another once more as they used to, and revel in their elevation to daemonhood.

And some background, for the Legion, updated for the Daemonic Pact 3:

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 and a Warhound Titan with allegiance to the Legio Mortis to the swelling ranks, to 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. In recent time, they have been joined by daemonic allies spawned from the warp, including a trio of brothers who became Exalted Greater Daemons, and have brought their forces to bear to complement the nefarious mortal marines, and to spread plague and corruption wherever they may walk.

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.

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Overall I'd have to pick Tenebris, as whilst the painting is top-notch on Chaeron's Great Unclean One, I feel Tenebris has a more coherent model, better suited to his fluff.

Don't forget to use the poll to vote.

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I liked Tenebris' fluff over the others, but Lucio got my vote in both painting and converting, that is a great model.
Nice use of bits, and asymmetrical models are awesome, while the base leaves a bit wanting the model is interesting enough that I only looked down the second viewing. :)
Nice entries over all though, props to those who participated. :)

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Alas I have to agree, my paint job is irrelevant since it lacks of washes, highlights and more work on the base. I have to wait till February for my shop to be restocked. On the other hand I am pleased that you like my fluff so much, awed even. 

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Alas I have to agree, my paint job is irrelevant since it lacks of washes, highlights and more work on the base. I have to wait till February for my shop to be restocked. On the other hand I am pleased that you like my fluff so much, awed even.

Never heard of water added to paint to make washes? Or adding a lighter colour to highlight. How do you think I paint?
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Alas I have to agree, my paint job is irrelevant since it lacks of washes, highlights and more work on the base. I have to wait till February for my shop to be restocked. On the other hand I am pleased that you like my fluff so much, awed even.

Never heard of water added to paint to make washes? Or adding a lighter colour to highlight. How do you think I paint?

forte, truth be told, comparing our painting skills is like comparing a Ferrari (you) and a Fiat 500 (me). I am slow, classy and reliable (hence I use official guides since I suck at art), maybe sometimes I pop something out when in Abart mode but at the end of the day you win, hands down, especially when you put your foot on the gas pedal. A Ferrari is a Ferrari after all. Me, I am content to stay classy tongue.png

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I liked your painting though Tenebris, yes Chaeron has an awe inspiring colpur scheme with a tonne of difficult detail but yours looks like a "real" model, with a balanced colour pallete. It's something I try to achieve in my own work, not GW style highlight lines but a model which catches the light in the right way to give a depth of colour.

 

Still atm the voting seems to be the ideal B&C model would be built by me, painted by Chaeron and have a background piece written by you

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Overall I'd have to pick Tenebris, as whilst the painting is top-notch on Chaeron's Great Unclean One, I feel Tenebris has a more coherent model, better suited to his fluff.

 

I had to do something to explain why I painted three of those bad boys - seemed logical to give Scabiethrrax two brothers and a backstory :lol:

 

Still atm the voting seems to be the ideal B&C model would be built by me, painted by Chaeron and have a background piece written by you

 

I think we'd all be happy with that, to be fair!

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Still atm the voting seems to be the ideal B&C model would be built by me, painted by Chaeron and have a background piece written by you

 

I think we'd all be happy with that, to be fair!

 

 

Hehe, I am up for some action. If you manage to complete your parts I will do mine hehe. What can I say, my keyboard sorcery is more powerful than my brush sorcery. But still I did enjoy the event. 

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Sorry for the delay, still waiting for forte to get the banner done.

Sorry about this. Been busy working the past few days.

 

Should have them done this evening.

 

And Tenebris. That's no way to talk about your painting. Have faith in your skills.

 

And Lucio. I know what you mean about trying not to paint in the GW style. And it's a very tough habit to break.

 

And Chaeron. Hi.

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So, something funny happen, forte had these banner finished since October 2014, we just forgot about it :/

Best Fluff winner: Tenebris gets the Scribe of Chaos...for the second time

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Best Paint Job winner: Chareon gets the Artisan of Chaos

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Best Conversion winner: lucio gets the Dark Mechanicus

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Now for Daemonhood, all three get it

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Huzzah! Thanks for the event Uprising and thanks for the reward. What can I say, my keyboard sorcery is strong smile.png

So are we all Daemon Princes? Awesome!

And a big cheer for Chareon and Lucio!

Superb work everyone - top notch!

Looking forward to the next.

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