XIth: Wardens of Light - Destined to be forgotten

[Luna707]

Looking fantastic man! The sense of motion is unreal

[Argent aquila]

BIG like on this! great progress!

[That Guy Matt]

Very excited to see the big guy finished.

[MikhalLeNoir]

Thx mates,, i always try my best and if the procastrination doesn#t catch me, I can put out some finished models in the next few weeks^^

 

But here an additon to my jetbike collection.

 

http://images.dakkadakka.com/gallery/2016/2/24/781120_sm-.jpg

 

http://images.dakkadakka.com/gallery/2016/2/24/781119_sm-.jpg

 

http://images.dakkadakka.com/gallery/2016/2/24/781117_sm-.jpg

 

http://images.dakkadakka.com/gallery/2016/2/24/781118_sm-.jpg

 

As there are no rules for bullok pattern bikes yet and as i can't envsion where to add a heavy bolter or another heavy weapon, I think, that I ran them simply as stand-ins for outrider biks (i hate motorcycles^^) an mount them with dual plasmas, gnahahaha. whatcha say?

Could glue them to the top front so, tht it seems as if it has plasma shooting eyes^^

[mrun0riginal]

Thx mates,, i always try my best and if the procastrination doesn#t catch me, I can put out some finished models in the next few weeks^^

 

But here an additon to my jetbike collection.

 

http://images.dakkadakka.com/gallery/2016/2/24/781120_sm-.jpg

 

http://images.dakkadakka.com/gallery/2016/2/24/781119_sm-.jpg

 

http://images.dakkadakka.com/gallery/2016/2/24/781117_sm-.jpg

 

http://images.dakkadakka.com/gallery/2016/2/24/781118_sm-.jpg

 

As there are no rules for bullok pattern bikes yet and as i can't envsion where to add a heavy bolter or another heavy weapon, I think, that I ran them simply as stand-ins for outrider biks (i hate motorcycles^^) an mount them with dual plasmas, gnahahaha. whatcha say?

Could glue them to the top front so, tht it seems as if it has plasma shooting eyes^^

That's beautiful! How did you make it? Kit bash? Or something specific?

[MikhalLeNoir]

I assembled it^^.

 

Bought it from Frater Machinator who had them rereleased just in time, when I found his thread^^.

 

The quality is top notch. Nearly no flashes and a lot better than my scimitar jetbikes. And compared to them a lot cheaper.

 

you can buy them here: http://stores.ebay.com/Blood-and-Skulls-Industry

 

Hope that is allowed, if not Mods, then drop me a message and I remove the adress.

[MikhalLeNoir]

Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more;

Or close the wall up with our brave brothers dead.

When the blast of war blows in our ears,

Then imitate the action of the tiger;

Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood,

Disguise fair nature with hard-favour'd rage;

Now hold hard the breath and bend every spirit high.

On, on, you noblest sons of men;

Once more unto the breach, dear brothers, once more.

 

~Gwalchavad, Primarch of the Wardens of Light, during the Siege of Terra, adressing the last defense in front of the Eternity Gate~

 

 

And yes, the text is from my friend William Shakespeare, at least, as far as we know. I found it fitting, that Gwal would recite an ancient terran text in front of the Eternity Gate while countless Nightmares would attack his Wardens and the Crimson Lions at Hectarions side in in the next few moments.

 

But the more important text: I admit, I was kinda lazy the last few months and so i didn't work out enough of the differences between Canonverse Gwal and Broverse Gwal, but there are a lot and so I summarized the main points in a compressed form. For our 3rd Book I will take this as a base. but as Gwalchavad is mentioned a few times in book 1, it makes the whole writing process easier, if there is a source to look on.

I will put this text on the first posts too and thx to Mr. Squig who helped me once again to surpass my limited english skills. (Can't we make the whole thing in german? or Korean? would be easier for me^^)

 

 

Fighting Style: Using Dual Ellbowblades and unleasing a barrage of fast attacks on his enemy, a fluid motion, graceful, artistic would describe it best. But he his battlehonor let's him always wait for the enemy to make the first attack to give him a chance and to analyze the skill of his adversary.

Pariah Trait: His "pariahness" works through his gaze and can rip the soul out of warpsentient beeings or psykers, if they look him into the eyes. With his mask he is able to focus his powers and he can unleash them in a devastating attack. But using his powers comes with a price. And the stronger the warp entity, the stronger the backlash. Example necessary? After he sucked Deamon Alexos out and banished him for the time beeing into the warp, his eyes were bleeding, he was nearly blind and couldn't use his soulsucking powers anymore on the deamons that followed (Deamon Raktra for example, good that Hectarion was there). The backlash is just a momentarily problem, but when you defend yourself against a chaos army, it would be better to keep the mask on.(Hesh& Grifft, please remind me to work that somehow into the rules)

 

Back on Caerbannog, Gwal was like the other Primarchs, a weapon built to conquer.  As such, he ruled the planet, but was he a just ruler?  He believed that he was, and that he brought a better life to all under the sky.  However, the people who ruled with him were not just, wanting only personal gain; thus they moulded Gwal in a similar image.  They influenced him and he was taught their ways.  When resistance arose and as he suppressed it with violence and even children fought against him, he slowly began to realize that something was wrong.  He began to question his ways.  But it was a long process.  In the end, Gwalchavad disappeared searching the servants of the wind god he had met in his youth (the harlequins who gave him his mask).  So he ended up on the isle of fog, Avalon, floating in the sea of fog underneath the other sky-isles and home to the servants of the wind god.  There he learned their ways.  The harlequins of old followed a more peaceful path, like a leaf in the wind.  Evading every violent force.  He learned to move like them, and to meditate, focusing and controlling his nature.  Then Gwal sought out and freed the people of Caerbannog from the rule of his past "friends" and gave the power back to the people, disappearing again after the deed was done as he still felt the enjoyment of battle in him.  So he went back to Avalon, meditating to defy his own nature.  The urge to fight.  With the birth of Slaanesh, the servants of the wind god left Avalon and Gwal alone except for one eldar seer called the "lady of the lake".

 

The main difference now between Broverse Gwal and Canonverse Gwal is that the broverse Gwal is much younger and didn't have enough time to overcome his nature.  He tries but the inner conflict of his nature is still there and although he actively tries to pacify all and bring them into the light, he feels an enjoyment for the fight deep within him.  I mean, sometimes he justifies the eradication of an evil xenos force with the argument that in killing them he pacifies them and brings them back to the light (but only after all other solutions have proved as ineffective)

 

Canonverse Gwal, however, is a far older entity.  We’re talking about millennia.  At least one, in which he had time to suppress his nature and became enlightened.  He is a lot higher up on the wheel of karma; he is so disgusted by violence that he ultimately dies because his own sons see that as a stain on their honour.  But canonverse Gwal has surpassed terms like honour and even when Russ kills the majority of Gwal’s sons in the process of the purge, Gwal stays calm and doesn't deliver the fatal blow to Russ when they fight.

 

While Gwalchavad in the canonverse frees the people of Caerbannog using the Ghandi/Jesus way, mobilising the population for him, the broverse variant used his tonfas. We have the same character, but time and experience is the differing factor here.

[MikhalLeNoir]

Thx to the worlds best editor Mr. Squig an old story of mine shines like new.

 

You can read Traviers perspective on the front page.

 

The Parting

 

The golden figure stood alone on the top of a white marble roof. The imperial palace was no longer the peaceful place Gwalchavad had enjoyed staying at. The past few days, hell had broken loose and the place had become a living nightmare. Amidst this hell fought the prideful astartes, who defended mankind against a collaboration of once loyal space marines and daemons. Deep down, Gwalchavad could see his Brother Raktra, now a corrupted image of his past self, leading the main assault against the defending marines, mere children to his dark power.

 

As Gwalchavad prepared to support the astartes against his brother, his attention was caught by something else, something observing him from afar. The hairs on Gwalchavad’s neck tingled as he saw the watching beast. An enormous creature, with an eagle like head, pale leathery wings folded to its back. Its spear was raised high into the air as it landed in front of Gwalchavad with bent legs. A three fingered claw coated in purple flames, flickering heavily. The monster looked around as if delighted by the massacre which took place hundreds of metres from him. This was no normal daemon; Gwalchavad recognized the once proud armour and stance of a Primarch, now a twisted travesty of its past glory. But what convinced Gwalchavad of the bitter truth was the spear the creature held in its hand, a golden spear with eagle ornamentation covering it. The spear his brother Alexos had received as a gift from Daer’dd at their first meeting. The blade was now black, covered with the same purple flames carried on the daemon’s bestial claw.

 

“Brother,” the creature smiled. “Brother, it has been so long! I know our last... conversation... went rather downhill, but everything has changed! We have changed! We are at our triumph! Join me brother, let me show you the future, and become a god!"

 

Gwalchavad tensed his muscles while the monster slowly came nearer. “You were perfect already, Alexos. Now you are nothing more than a pawn. I will never join your gods. Why did you do this, daemon?” he whispered, slowly bringing his blades up, pacing towards his old friend, hiding his emotions behind his mask.

 

Gwalchavad increased his speed and at the last second activated his jump pack, gaining momentum, crashing into Alexos with his shoulder. In a fluid motion Gwalchavad threw three perfectly timed strikes against his enemy, strikes which would have proven deadly for a mortal. The daemon blocked them with his spear, as if they had not bothered him at all; this was no mere mortal, this was a Daemon-Primarch, a living god. The power of the Emperor’s sons, fused with the power of the dark gods. No human could dream of standing a chance against such a foe.

 

Gwalchavad did not give in. He attacked again, even faster than before, a dance of death. He attacked from different angles and worked himself piece by piece past Alexos’ defence. And then he connected, a fast feint, a swirl, one quick motion with his head, and the hidden blade inside Gwalchavad’s braid found its way into the stomach of his adversary. Alexos hadn’t seen it coming, surprised by the unexpected strike.

The daemon groaned, while Gwalchavad disconnected and danced backwards, preparing himself for the next attack. Alexos countered mercilessly, smashing his fist into Gwalchavad’s mask, making him fly through the air. The stunned Primarch was able to recover, but the warp infused muscles of Alexos gave Gwalchavad barely any time. He charged, letting down an overwhelming flurry of attacks with his spear which Gwalchavad could hardly escape, and then struck forward with his energized claw. Unknowable pain exploded in Gwalchavad’s chest as the daemon ripped through his armour and tore one of the Primarch's still-pumping hearts out.

 

Gwalchavad toppled, his remaining hearts beating wildly. His’s vision faded, but he forced himself up, just in time to block a fast swing with his black blades. Alexos and Gwalchavad stared at each other over their weapons. On one side the burning insanity of Alexos, and on the other the calm silence of Gwalchavad. Alexos forced Gwalchavad slowly down, but in the blink of an eye Gwalchavad jumped backwards. Kicking the Daemon-Primarch in the stomach, the knife still stuck there bit deeper into the flesh of the fowl beast. Fast like the wind he turned a counterattack from Alexos aside and with a riposte he cut through the field generator of his foe’s spear. Thanks to his centuries of training, Gwalchavad was able to dodge three explosive strikes from Alexos’ claw, but then suddenly when Gwalchavad focussed, Alexos was gone.

 

Gwalchavad searched for his enemy, irritated. Incredulous that his former pupil could vanish so quickly, a sting of pain hit him in the side. Alexos stood a few metres away and had used Gwlachavad’s hidden blade against him. Gwalchavad jerked the knife out of his flesh, barely believing his brother had made such a cowardly move. Alexos stared bemused at the wounded Primarch. The golden knight threw the knife aside in disgust and charged at his laughing enemy. Alexos savoured the sight of Gwalchavad’s pain and awaited the next attack. The Primarch aimed for Alexos’ chest, but as Alexos melted away like water, his black blade smashed into his shoulder. Even as Gwalchavad’s increased they speed and dexterity of his attacks, he failed to connect. All his strikes were dodged, the former Primarch simply melting away. Gwalchavad’s attempts were as hopeless as trying to cut through water with a sword.

 

Gwalchavad concentrated; the void within him erupted as he opened his inner gates, removing his own limiters. He felt new power searing throw his veins. His muscles filled with fresh blood, his awareness increased. Gwalchavad released his natural powerreserve, like the servants of the laughing wind god showed him aeons ago. His speed increased with every strike. He was the wind, he was the light. Alexos form vanished faster and faster, but with every strike Gwalchavad came closer. It seemed as if he foresaw where Alexos would materialize next. The two figures were only a faint blur that no mortal eyes would have been able to track. But Gwalchavad knew that he couldn't keep this pace up for much longer. He needed an opening. Then suddenly the golden knight threw a melta bomb with as much force as he could muster to the place where he thought Alexos would take solid form next and the twisted Primarch was shocked as he appeared in the midst of the burning light of an explosion. Gwalchavad used the fraction of a second he had, and in a fluid pirouette, disembowelled his daemon-brother, cutting his arm off, before drawing his archaeotech pistol and shooting the daemon in the centre of his twisted face, taking off half of his head in the process.

 

But instead of losing the bout, the daemon vanished, leaving a startled Gwalchavad behind. Alexos limbs seeped away, vanishing into the ground and an unhurt Alexos materialized laughing before the heavily-breathing Gwalchavad.

 

“Well, well, well my dearest brother, it seems as if I have the upper hand, wouldn’t you say? You know, back on my ship, I was terribly sad when you left me. I had so much in mind for you. But now, we can make up for the lost fun. If I’m honest, I think I will be the only one laughing.”

 

Once the hellish figure had had enough of this mockery, he attacked with full force. Gwalchavad was a leaf in the wind encountering a tornado, crashing hard to the floor, one of his blades ripped from his hands and a gushing wound on his lower abdomen, several ribs cracked.

Alexos walked slowly to the wounded figure, throwing his broken spear and parts of Gwalchavad’s armour to the floor.

 

“Brother, you should have joined us. You should not have declined my offer; now there is nothing left for you. Nothing but death!” Alexos then lifted the broken warrior over his deformed head, ready to throw him into the abyss. As he threw the Primarch, Gwalchavad whispered softly: “Forgive me brother, I have failed us. Forgive me,” Gwalchavad lost all hope of saving his brother and removed his mask while he fell. The mask flew down beside Alexos head and, suddenly, burning eyes met white glowing orbs.

 

Time froze.

 

Gwalchavad saw the madness in his brother’s eyes. The eternal damnation that Alexos had chosen. But then he also saw his brother looking back at him. His former tutor, his former pupil, his friend. Then Alexos’ pain, as the reality bent and Alexos' soul was sucked out of his daemonic form, which slowly burned inward as it dissolved into the warp.

 

Time moved on.

 

Gwalchavad hit the ground hard, landing on top of an Eagle Warrior rhino, crushing the front half whole.

He stared around him, bloody tears painting his face. And he screamed and moaned out of sorrow and dispair into the air of ancient Terra.

Edited February 27, 2016 by MikhalLeNoir

[MikhalLeNoir]

What? no new model? I bet you ask yourself why the heck did he made a post then? We need more bling and he lacks pictures. Well today I want to share the start of a little story, which will lead to the first exemplary battle. This Story plays in both realities, broverse and canonverse, but it will have slightly different changes in it, so that the whole thing unfolds differently. So the first chapter is merely the same for both verses, but in the end, some major antagonists die and others are the hero of the day, soley to the decissions they make. It will also show, how Eagle Warriors and Apostles of War grew close in the the first place and how they developed their base tactics, which Gwalchavad later only specified a little bit.

 

So, have fun with the first chapter^^ Thanks go out to Apothecary Meros from the Vox Relay, who wrote this first chapter upon my crazy Ideas.

If anybody want to contribute, please feel free to contact me. Writing for both verses can sometimes be a little bit...irritating

 

The Origins of Light

Chapter 1

 

 

“We haven’t made planetfall already… what’s the delay?”

“The Captains are still discussing tactics – this is our first encounter with the Orks-“

“Tactics? Gah, we need not bother with tactics! These are primitive greenskins who can barely fire a pistol! We could go in there unarmed and still win in a matter of minutes!”

“You fail to see past your own foolish ignorance, brother. They are no match for Space Marines, but it doesn’t allow us to be cocky.”

“Any other legion would’ve turned them to paste by now! Yet we, the noble eleventh legion of his Lord Emperor’s Astartes, dawdle on this ship discussing tactics!”

A grim pause followed as a third figure walked slowly to the centre of the command bridge, bathed in a sapphire glaze emitting from a holographic image of the planet Batu on a square gunmetal grey table. He paced his way across from the tall, onyx shaded door fixed to a bland metal wall, his eyes averted from the data displays and sprawling information that filled a number of blue glass screens, and focussed on the two grumbling Astartes who stood either side of the hologram. “Brother Kelenteil, brother Moragh, I do request you cease your ‘discussion’. We should save our anger for when we are fighting the enemy, not fighting ourselves.” He exclaimed, a loud and commanding voice dominating the room. A couple of human crewmen in silver uniform turned their heads for a quick glance, before returning to their idle state at consoles on the semi-circular bridge of the Firebrand – the Apostles’ flagship – amongst the rows of astropaths and servitors.

“Of course, Legionmaster Amalasan. My apologies.” One of the two marines mumbles, his iron helmet bowed between two white ceramite shoulder pads trimmed with a shade of ultra-blue, his head hiding behind the black sigil of his legion – a winged fist, clutching a sword in its grasp, raised for a killing blow.

The other, the more agitated of the two at the table, grunted in recognition. He did not hide his face behind a metallic MkII helmet, instead the twisted frown was completely visible to Amalasan, as well as the swept dull grey hair that covered his left eye, leaving only the right to stare grimly at his commander with an emerald glaze. The wrinkles on his ageing brow contorted, a vein twitching beneath his skin, as he slowly breathed a reply. “Amalasan… I… I simply do not understand why we laze upon this starship when the Orks wreak havoc below us, on Batu!” He directs a flat power armoured hand in a gesture to the flickering blue sphere, rotating slowly on its tilted axis.

“That was not a suggestion, Kelenteil.” His downturned palm rolled into a fist, returning his arm to his side. The green balefire of his eye glaring at Guaire Amalasan’s noble expression. The Legionmaster let angelic white hair flow down to his shoulders, the minuscule outline of a smirk on his lips below soft azurite eyes. His left hand flexed, the fingers of the Power Fist he wore mimicking the action as it cradled his helmet. His right was tightly gripped around the sheathed hilt of his power sword. Ancient texts described this specific kind of weapon as a ‘Bastard Sword’. Amalasan considered this a more than suitable name, considering their lack of a Primarch. The fitting name humoured him, but a deep seed of concern would always seep through concerning their lost father.

“Of course, lord.” Kelenteil worded behind gritted teeth. Any other commander would have discarded a marine with such an attitude, even going as far as execution in the case of the more ‘strict’ legions. Even the more ‘human’ legions would not put up with such apparent disrespect. Amalasan kept his temperate marine close though, for his rage was a beautiful sight to behold with a chainsword in his hands and a target in his sights.

“Very good.” He grunts, his smile pushing itself down into a straight line across his face, determination gleaming like the distant sun that now shone umber tones through the bridge windows, sprawling an orange glaze all around. “You may be pleased to hear, brother sergeant, that a decision has been made.”

Kelenteil raised his revealed eyebrow keenly. “Then speak, m’lord. I wish not to spend another second aboard this hulk.”

Guaire moved his eyes to his sergeant, after spending a moment to admire the glint of the sun off Batu’s surface. “We have created a battle plan that we believe to be the most effective against the Orks. The entirety of our legion is readying to deploy within the hour.” He pauses, looking across to Moragh. “You two are to return to your squads and gear up – details of the plans shall be relayed to you by your respective captains.”

The sergeant had already began moving to the door, his muscles ebbing with impatience. “Understood, lord.”

Moragh watched his comrade exit, glaring beneath his helmet. His head turned slowly to meet the Legionmaster’s and straightened his stance, before making a sign of the aquila and marching purposefully out of the same onyx door.

Content, Amalasan strode deeper onto the bridge and into the golden light now flooding uncontrollably onto the deck. The corridor was littered either side with serfs at consoles, frantically tapping at screens to ensure the stability of the Firebrand. Guaire took a purposefully slow and dramatic walk between the serfs, watching as each one quivered at the sound of his footfalls. Even the servitors seemed to shrink in their seats, anxious in the presence of a master.

One however, seemed to resist the aura of intimidation that stalked Amalasan like a shadow.

“Phillipe. What’s the status of the fleet?” Guaire bellowed, his voice deep and slow.

Dwarfed in size by comparison to the towering form of the Space Marine – he twirled his command throne at the head of the bridge to face the Legionary. The glaring sunlight was now behind him, leaving him drenched in the oily black shadow that hid all facial features in a blank mask. White hands sat upon the armrests, they were all that was visible. In this light, even Amalasan – the Legionmaster of an army revered enough to be nicknamed the Apostles of War – was ever so slightly unnerved by the shady demeanour of Admiral Abras. “Our fleet, my Lord, has been orientated in the formerly requested manner.” The man had a very particular speech pattern, his softly spoken words emanating like a dull hum that would be best suited coming from the engineering deck. Each letter rolled off his tongue and slithered to the Marine’s finely tuned ears, and his left hand danced around the armrest; the elastic noise of contracting muscles and stretching skin on his face just audible by the Astartes’ acute senses – allowing Amalasan to hear the Admiral’s sly smirk form on his wrinkled lips.

“Good. We shall deploy soon.”

“I know, the terse words between you and your sergeants told me enough, sir.”

Guaire walked up to his Admiral, and past the chair, placing his helmet – gleaming golden in the distant sun – over his flourishing white hair. His power fist and free right hand resting on the silver bar running along the length of the bottom of the curved window. “Aye. The pair seem to be ever at arms. One day they’ll end up killing each other, and the blood will be on my hands.”

“That is not a very optimistic view, monsieur.”

“It wasn’t supposed to be, Phillipe.” He grumbled, his voice amplified by the internal Vox into a

He nods, slowly. “Enough chat!” He suddenly grunts. The Legionmaster felt at unease with a mere human ordering him around. But while he was aboard the fleet, that’s how things had to be. “Scanners on the ground show the Orks are banding together, and likely preparing for our planetfall.”

“They can prepare however they see fit, they have no hope of stopping us.”

“That,” He begins, grinning, “Is more like it, mon seigneur” Although the expression soon fades and a sinister tone takes over as he walks to an officer at a console, his face illuminated in aqua shades by the blaring screen. “You, bring the orbital weapons systems online.”

“Yes Admiral!” He shouts in response, frantically tapping at the keys – various blueprint images of the ship and its terrifying arsenal flashing up on his screen.

“Très bon, monsieur Grégoire.” He whispers, his own long and ageing brow caught in the ultramarine hue.

“I bid you leave, Phillipe. I must attend my brothers. Ensure the order gets to the whole fleet that we move out with haste.” The space marine stands upright from his resting position and marches steadily between the quivering serfs, past the floating hologram image on the table and through the sliding onyx door into an elevator – taking him down into the bulk of the ship and far, far away from the serenity of Batu’s golden sun.

Edited March 11, 2016 by MikhalLeNoir

[MikhalLeNoir]

Today no pics, just a little introduction chapter from a stoy project I am working on with Apothecary Meros from the Vox Relay Boards.

This one will in Broverse and Canonverse and depending on the universe slightly developes different, with hopefully big impacts on the wardens.

Main writing will be from Meros and So'rem. I lay the groundwork and edit it to fit into the Icarion Insurrection.

The origins of light

Chapter 1

 

 

“We haven’t made planetfall already… what’s the delay?”

“The Captains are still discussing tactics – this is our first encounter with the Orks-“

“Tactics? Gah, we need not bother with tactics! These are primitive greenskins who can barely fire a pistol! We could go in there unarmed and still win in a matter of minutes!”

“You fail to see past your own foolish ignorance, brother. They are no match for Space Marines, but it doesn’t allow us to be cocky.”

“Any other legion would’ve turned them to paste by now! Yet we, the noble eleventh legion of his Lord Emperor’s Astartes, dawdle on this ship discussing tactics!”

A grim pause followed as a third figure walked slowly to the centre of the command bridge, bathed in a sapphire glaze emitting from a holographic image of the planet Batu on a square gunmetal grey table. He paced his way across from the tall, onyx shaded door fixed to a bland metal wall, his eyes averted from the data displays and sprawling information that filled a number of blue glass screens, and focussed on the two grumbling Astartes who stood either side of the hologram. “Brother Kelenteil, brother Moragh, I do request you cease your ‘discussion’. We should save our anger for when we are fighting the enemy, not fighting ourselves.” He exclaimed, a loud and commanding voice dominating the room. A couple of human crewmen in silver uniform turned their heads for a quick glance, before returning to their idle state at consoles on the semi-circular bridge of the Firebrand – the Apostles’ flagship – amongst the rows of astropaths and servitors.

“Of course, Legionmaster Amalasan. My apologies.” One of the two marines mumbles, his iron helmet bowed between two white ceramite shoulder pads trimmed with a shade of ultra-blue, his head hiding behind the black sigil of his legion – a winged fist, clutching a sword in its grasp, raised for a killing blow.

The other, the more agitated of the two at the table, grunted in recognition. He did not hide his face behind a metallic MkII helmet, instead the twisted frown was completely visible to Amalasan, as well as the swept dull grey hair that covered his left eye, leaving only the right to stare grimly at his commander with an emerald glaze. The wrinkles on his ageing brow contorted, a vein twitching beneath his skin, as he slowly breathed a reply. “Amalasan… I… I simply do not understand why we laze upon this starship when the Orks wreak havoc below us, on Batu!” He directs a flat power armoured hand in a gesture to the flickering blue sphere, rotating slowly on its tilted axis.

“That was not a suggestion, Kelenteil.” His downturned palm rolled into a fist, returning his arm to his side. The green balefire of his eye glaring at Guaire Amalasan’s noble expression. The Legionmaster let angelic white hair flow down to his shoulders, the minuscule outline of a smirk on his lips below soft azurite eyes. His left hand flexed, the fingers of the Power Fist he wore mimicking the action as it cradled his helmet. His right was tightly gripped around the sheathed hilt of his power sword. Ancient texts described this specific kind of weapon as a ‘Bastard Sword’. Amalasan considered this a more than suitable name, considering their lack of a Primarch. The fitting name humoured him, but a deep seed of concern would always seep through concerning their lost father.

“Of course, lord.” Kelenteil worded behind gritted teeth. Any other commander would have discarded a marine with such an attitude, even going as far as execution in the case of the more ‘strict’ legions. Even the more ‘human’ legions would not put up with such apparent disrespect. Amalasan kept his temperate marine close though, for his rage was a beautiful sight to behold with a chainsword in his hands and a target in his sights.

“Very good.” He grunts, his smile pushing itself down into a straight line across his face, determination gleaming like the distant sun that now shone umber tones through the bridge windows, sprawling an orange glaze all around. “You may be pleased to hear, brother sergeant, that a decision has been made.”

Kelenteil raised his revealed eyebrow keenly. “Then speak, m’lord. I wish not to spend another second aboard this hulk.”

Guaire moved his eyes to his sergeant, after spending a moment to admire the glint of the sun off Batu’s surface. “We have created a battle plan that we believe to be the most effective against the Orks. The entirety of our legion is readying to deploy within the hour.” He pauses, looking across to Moragh. “You two are to return to your squads and gear up – details of the plans shall be relayed to you by your respective captains.”

The sergeant had already began moving to the door, his muscles ebbing with impatience. “Understood, lord.”

Moragh watched his comrade exit, glaring beneath his helmet. His head turned slowly to meet the Legionmaster’s and straightened his stance, before making a sign of the aquila and marching purposefully out of the same onyx door.

Content, Amalasan strode deeper onto the bridge and into the golden light now flooding uncontrollably onto the deck. The corridor was littered either side with serfs at consoles, frantically tapping at screens to ensure the stability of the Firebrand. Guaire took a purposefully slow and dramatic walk between the serfs, watching as each one quivered at the sound of his footfalls. Even the servitors seemed to shrink in their seats, anxious in the presence of a master.

One however, seemed to resist the aura of intimidation that stalked Amalasan like a shadow.

“Phillipe. What’s the status of the fleet?” Guaire bellowed, his voice deep and slow.

Dwarfed in size by comparison to the towering form of the Space Marine – he twirled his command throne at the head of the bridge to face the Legionary. The glaring sunlight was now behind him, leaving him drenched in the oily black shadow that hid all facial features in a blank mask. White hands sat upon the armrests, they were all that was visible. In this light, even Amalasan – the Legionmaster of an army revered enough to be nicknamed the Apostles of War – was ever so slightly unnerved by the shady demeanour of Admiral Abras. “Our fleet, my Lord, has been orientated in the formerly requested manner.” The man had a very particular speech pattern, his softly spoken words emanating like a dull hum that would be best suited coming from the engineering deck. Each letter rolled off his tongue and slithered to the Marine’s finely tuned ears, and his left hand danced around the armrest; the elastic noise of contracting muscles and stretching skin on his face just audible by the Astartes’ acute senses – allowing Amalasan to hear the Admiral’s sly smirk form on his wrinkled lips.

“Good. We shall deploy soon.”

“I know, the terse words between you and your sergeants told me enough, sir.”

Guaire walked up to his Admiral, and past the chair, placing his helmet – gleaming golden in the distant sun – over his flourishing white hair. His power fist and free right hand resting on the silver bar running along the length of the bottom of the curved window. “Aye. The pair seem to be ever at arms. One day they’ll end up killing each other, and the blood will be on my hands.”

“That is not a very optimistic view, monsieur.”

“It wasn’t supposed to be, Phillipe.” He grumbled, his voice amplified by the internal Vox into a

He nods, slowly. “Enough chat!” He suddenly grunts. The Legionmaster felt at unease with a mere human ordering him around. But while he was aboard the fleet, that’s how things had to be. “Scanners on the ground show the Orks are banding together, and likely preparing for our planetfall.”

“They can prepare however they see fit, they have no hope of stopping us.”

“That,” He begins, grinning, “Is more like it, mon seigneur” Although the expression soon fades and a sinister tone takes over as he walks to an officer at a console, his face illuminated in aqua shades by the blaring screen. “You, bring the orbital weapons systems online.”

“Yes Admiral!” He shouts in response, frantically tapping at the keys – various blueprint images of the ship and its terrifying arsenal flashing up on his screen.

“Très bon, monsieur Grégoire.” He whispers, his own long and ageing brow caught in the ultramarine hue.

“I bid you leave, Phillipe. I must attend my brothers. Ensure the order gets to the whole fleet that we move out with haste.” The space marine stands upright from his resting position and marches steadily between the quivering serfs, past the floating hologram image on the table and through the sliding onyx door into an elevator – taking him down into the bulk of the ship and far, far away from the serenity of Batu’s golden sun.

 

Guaire Amalasan is later the Warden of Light with the burning sword, who stabs Gwalchavad as first warden and gives him later the killing blow.

 

http://orig09.deviantart.net/2031/f/2015/341/2/7/a_disciple_of_light_by_inkary-d9jdsv8.png

 

Here depicted in a not so threatening pose from the wonderful Inkary on Deviantarts.

Edited March 11, 2016 by MikhalLeNoir

[Sigismund229]

The bling...it's blinding me...

 

In all seriousness, excellent story!

[MikhalLeNoir]

Thx mate. Hope I can finish this story ;)

[MikhalLeNoir]

Heavily inspired by Skalpynock. Read his take on the past and had to write this down. just a very short look into the past.

 

 

"Do you remember?

 

At the dawn of the imperium stood 12 Legions. Among those forerunners were the Bearers of Lightning, Iron and Steel Guards and the Morning Stars The youngest of these 12 original legions were the Apostles of War, bringing the sword to the enemies of the emperor. They spread the imperial truth to those who would listen ans to those who dared not to, they brought war and destruction.

 

Can't you remember them? They looked like those knights of old. Living tales in grey armor with white shoulderpads and blue trims. The whole regiment wearing white cloaks. It was a sight to behold. They looked so noble, while cleaving their greatswords through enemy lines and blasting the enemies defense lines away their bolter. The first to enter the battle and the last to leave was their motto.

 

You can't remember them, but I can.

 

They were recruited from old basquia, fronk and hispana. It was said, that people from those countries carried a fire in their hearts. Oh it was so true. You could see the will of fire in their eyes. They carried it to the enemy. The will to destroy them.

And they all followed Guaire Amalasan, and his burning sword. They followed him through the Unification Wars and into the Great Crusade.

Oh yes, I remember them.

 

What happened to them you ask?

 

They found their father..."

 

 

Remembrancer So'rem Galyg, introduction for a lecture on imperial history.

Edited March 11, 2016 by MikhalLeNoir

[Kelborn]

loooooooove it :D

[MikhalLeNoir]

Soo, had a bit of freetime an decided to tackle my last special character. I decided to keep Guaire Amalasan alive ( the Guy who killed Gwalchavad in the canonverse). But wait!! Didn't he die? Is he a warden traitor? Nope he is not. And he kinda died. In the story I posted earlier we have different threads of destiny running. In canonverse Guaire although he underestimated the Orks, he managed to hold them off and saved a lot of his comrades because he choosed to go underground. In broverse he choose to meet his foe in bright daylight. Failure. More of the apostles fall and without the bravery of cervantes de leon and his brother dumah ( and before all hope is lost with the help of the pre primarch eagle warriors) Gwalchavad could have ended as a primarch without legion.

 

Guaires miscalculation costs him dearly. The hero of the unification wars ended as a broken man. Broken and heavily scarred. He lost his left hand, and his whole right side. (leg, lower arm and complete leg) nice side effect amd irony of destiny: he awakened the primarchs gift, the pariah gene. He was an outcast in the ranks of the apostles. Stripped from his command and left alone. Although the numbers of pariahs increased over the duration of the Great Crusade, it was not until the Reunion with their primarch, that the blanks were reintroduced into the ranks of the now called wardens. Well that is just an introduction. Rest comes later when I thought of rules. Here is the model of Guiare Amalasan, former legion master of the Apostles of War, the unfocused.

 

http://images.dakkadakka.com/gallery/2016/3/21/787159-.jpg

 

Hidden Content

 

http://images.dakkadakka.com/gallery/2016/3/21/787164_sm-.jpg

 

http://images.dakkadakka.com/gallery/2016/3/21/787160_sm-.jpg

 

http://images.dakkadakka.com/gallery/2016/3/21/787161_sm-.jpg

 

 

http://images.dakkadakka.com/gallery/2016/3/21/787163_sm-.jpg

 

http://images.dakkadakka.com/gallery/2016/3/21/787156_sm-.jpg

 

http://images.dakkadakka.com/gallery/2016/3/21/787157_sm-.jpg

 

http://images.dakkadakka.com/gallery/2016/3/21/787158_sm-.jpg

 

Ah, his little sword was created from the remnants of his old sword firebrand ( the one which tasted his fathers blood in canon)

[MikhalLeNoir]

So, I had the urge to create something, so I kitbashed something for the Wardens (broverse)

 

http://images.dakkadakka.com/gallery/2016/3/21/787159-.jpg

 

Hidden Content

 

http://images.dakkadakka.com/gallery/2016/3/21/787164_sm-.jpg

 

http://images.dakkadakka.com/gallery/2016/3/21/787160_sm-.jpg

 

http://images.dakkadakka.com/gallery/2016/3/21/787161_sm-.jpg

 

 

http://images.dakkadakka.com/gallery/2016/3/21/787163_sm-.jpg

 

http://images.dakkadakka.com/gallery/2016/3/21/787156_sm-.jpg

 

http://images.dakkadakka.com/gallery/2016/3/21/787157_sm-.jpg

 

http://images.dakkadakka.com/gallery/2016/3/21/787158_sm-.jpg

[Argent aquila]

HUGE like on this brother! i've always wanted to make a mega sword like that!

 

andddd i know i've always wanted to make something like these myself, but maybe these can inspire some ideas for future minis???

http://i4.mangapanda.com/break-blade/50/break-blade-2134009.jpg

http://www.anime-kun.net/animes/screenshots/break-blade-107901.jpg

 

anyway, bang up job! Keep it up!

[AlphariusOmegon108]

So, I had the urge to create something, so I kitbashed something for the Wardens (broverse)

 

http://images.dakkadakka.com/gallery/2016/3/21/787159-.jpg

 

Hidden Content

 

http://images.dakkadakka.com/gallery/2016/3/21/787164_sm-.jpg

 

http://images.dakkadakka.com/gallery/2016/3/21/787160_sm-.jpg

 

http://images.dakkadakka.com/gallery/2016/3/21/787161_sm-.jpg

 

 

http://images.dakkadakka.com/gallery/2016/3/21/787163_sm-.jpg

 

http://images.dakkadakka.com/gallery/2016/3/21/787156_sm-.jpg

 

http://images.dakkadakka.com/gallery/2016/3/21/787157_sm-.jpg

 

http://images.dakkadakka.com/gallery/2016/3/21/787158_sm-.jpg

That IS one of the best miniature I have ever seen... So what did you use for the model?

[MikhalLeNoir]

Thx mates.

 

@Alpha: well the big sword is a big chunk of plastic card. The head is from the phalanx warder upgrade set( took me ages to get my hands on one) , the torso is from anvil industries(black ops?), legs from garro, left arm is from the grey knights set. Yhe left hand is a bionic hand from anvil industries. Right arm is a standard marine arm with the lower arm a bionic arm from the devastator set. Hand is from anvil. The backpack i found in my bitzbox ;)

 

 

 

@Aquila: ohhh shurikens.... I will think on that ;)

[Thousand Eyes]

Stunning work. I've always loved/been jealous of good posing on minis and that looks great. Astounding the sheer variety of sources you got all those pieces from to come together and make that. Bravo!

[Kelborn]

/totally agree with the previous speakers

 

It's really cool, how you use bits from different kind of sources and put them together to form your very own minis.

 

Thumbs up! Because of that, your minis are more unique and have more flavor than most of the "normal" kited ones I saw here.

 

*edit*

 

The sword is cool. Reminds me of those ridiculous huge swords of Final Fantasy or the anime Berzerk or Naruto. ^^

Edited March 22, 2016 by Kelborn

[Doctor Perils]

Over all, good looking model and tragic fluff.

 

However, I just cannot make myself not hate slab-swords, sorry

[MikhalLeNoir]

:) ah weeh. I guess tastes are different :)

[Doctor Perils]

Yep. And (even if that particular aesthetic is not right for me) your rendering of it is still great ! ;)

[MikhalLeNoir]

Hehe, thx mate ;)