+ Sons of Dorn Challenge the 1st +

[Adeptus-Alaska]

Unfortunately real life got in the way For me to hit the deadline. I'll still hammer it out as it fits an army project I'm working on.

[Slips]

STILL NOT OUTTA THIS YET!

 

Should life let up I might be able to get him done tonight!

 

...Hopefully.

[rick_m]

Pledge Complete, i give you Epistolarie Cyrial

 

http://i502.photobucket.com/albums/e425/richard_mills4/84156abe-5532-43ca-ad2d-2cce47115ebc_zpsndsaviyd.jpg

 

http://i502.photobucket.com/albums/e425/richard_mills4/DSC_2261_zpsplqbiigk.jpg

 

http://i502.photobucket.com/albums/e425/richard_mills4/DSC_2262_zpskcloichj.jpg

 

http://i502.photobucket.com/albums/e425/richard_mills4/DSC_2263_zps3kptjuok.jpg

 

 

[Gaius Atticus]

I am finished but do not have access to a pc/laptop to upload photos. I will do tomorrow for ETL so will upload Pedro then.

[Bob Hunk]

Fantastic work everyone. It's really interesting to see all the different interpretations of Sergeant Garadon!

Anyway, phew, just finished painting my entry. I wasn't happy with my Pedro Kantor so I switched to a different model in the end.

+ Veteran Sergeant Reimund - 5th Company Command Squad

A veteran with nearly two centuries of campaign experience beneath the light of hostile alien stars, Sergeant Reimund serves as part of the 5th company command squad. He wears an antique suit of Crusade armour, lovingly repaired and restored over millennia of active service and only issued to the greatest exemplars of Dorn's code within the 5th company.

http://i165.photobucket.com/albums/u72/Bob_Hunk/Miniatures%20-%20Imperial%20Fists/Fisto302_zps0qdflye6.jpg

Sergeant Reimund bears the laurel of command incorporated into the heraldry on his right shoulder.

http://i165.photobucket.com/albums/u72/Bob_Hunk/Miniatures%20-%20Imperial%20Fists/Fisto303_zpst8xbeybk.jpg

The Veteran Sergeant's power fist has crushed the worthless life out of xenos and traitors too numerous to tally.

http://i165.photobucket.com/albums/u72/Bob_Hunk/Miniatures%20-%20Imperial%20Fists/Fisto304_zpspc3ghffc.jpg

This final vid-capture shows Reimund next to a trooper of the Astra Militarium (1st Hunkopian Regiment). Note how the human is overshadowed by the gen-hanced transhuman body of the noble Imperial Fist.

http://i165.photobucket.com/albums/u72/Bob_Hunk/Miniatures%20-%20Imperial%20Fists/Fisto305_zpsrdxd6ym8.jpg

[deathspectersgt7]

Yellow and the Freehand

[Slips]

Bad News! This'll be my first failure in terms of participating in a challenge :(

 

On top of life generally being life, I had forgotten to wash him (and my other ETL minis)...Meaning no Priming / Painting today since they're all sitting under a light drying..

[Conn Eremon]

Saved this to the last minute, as always. I'm sure the story suffers because of it, but at least I got it done.

 

 

Kastil fidgeted with the straps on his breastplate, his fingers too clumsy to tighten it properly. He'd put this particular piece of armor on hundreds of times over the past couple years since earning it in trial combat. His other guardmates were having similar delays, even the graying Bosarn. They were having that effect on everyone in the tent. They were already armed and equipped. They appeared similarly equipped to the guards, but one couldn't help but notice how different they were in scaled comparison to the guards. Kastil was a rather large man, or as Bosarn often said, big, young, and dumb. But even the smallest of these other warriors dwarfed Kastil, a fact that he couldn't help but feel uncomfortable over. But it wasn't simply their sheer physical presence that had so unnerved Kastil and his brothers, but what they represented. Nobody was sure what to think when word had come down that it would be Bosarn's squad to lifeguard the Diplomarch on such a momentous mission, the first of its kind after fourteen centuries of near-constant bloodshed between the Zekhlanders and the Nerakhti. But when Lord Vastner made his entrance with a trio of celestials as escorts, everybody was struck silent by the sight. They were gigantic, overly muscled warriors, bearing the living dragons on their skin that marked the ascended. Kastil had seen, and practiced, that slow, purposeful gait that the deadliest always seemed to have, but he had never before seen warriors who could look so lethal, aware of every detail of their surroundings and yet dismissive of the very idea that there could be a threat. The two smaller warriors, though they defied the very idea of 'small,' were clearly of the Low Zekhlands, their more widely-spaced eyes and murky skin tone identifying them as such. But their companion, who stood a near head taller than his brothers, was not so easily placed. He was no Zekhlander. He might have been of the Ziufae, but Kastil had heard of none who had such stone-grey eyes or hooked nose. They gave their names as Brothers Ognian, Nayden and Kosta, introducing themselves as if Brother was a shared first name. Perhaps it was, Kastil realized. They did share the same father after all.

 

Kastil had fastened his armor before the horn was blown a second time, and the Lord Vastner's lifeguards were arrayed about him in full. It was another hour before the Nerakhti party seen in the distance by the outer scouts reached them. Kastil was tense, his fingers itching to grip his sword hilt at the sight of them. They hadn't broken their word, however, bringing only a small band of retainers in their envoy, those armed and armored numbering no more than Bosarn's cohort. The Nerakhti reacted similarly to Kastil and the other guards at the sight of the celestials, their eyes wide with awe and fear, the sharp intake of breath easily heard over the short distance. The celestials were the first to move when the two parties were aligned together. One of them, Brother Nayden, remained with Bosarn and his men while Brother Ognian moved to the Nerakhti party. They tensed at his approach, but made no move against him when he stood in their midst and turned back to face the center of the clearing. The giant among giants, Kosta, stood beside the small table and pair of chairs that had been set for the consuls to entreat. With careful ritual, Lord Vastner presented himself before the Nerakhti emissary, an old, thin man whose long, narrow beard was almost lost in his cream robes. A clerical aide stayed with them as they sat, their arms filled to bursting with rolls of paper and writing apparatus to provide as their masters needed, and like a silent statue Kosta stood over them all.

 

Their quiet words, speaking an obscure Zekhlander dialect both were fluent in, made it difficult for Kastil to keep pace with their conversation from his distance. So he settled on simply watching the Nerakhti guard for any signs of the expected betrayal, though his temper did threaten to overwhelm him when his ears caught the diplomarch's acquiescence to Nerakhti access to the apostol waterways. The sun, only just rising when the pair had begun their negotiations, had set for nearly a full hour before these consuls called an end for the day. Kastil could not help but feel pride when the Nerakhti emissary called for one of his own to ride back, for news to spread of a halt to hostilities between the Nerakhti and the Zekhlanders as they continue to discuss terms of a more lasting peace. It was then that the celestial Kosta spoke for the first time to the Nerakhti emissary, as the messenger boy climbed into the horse's saddle, confirming that the pair were in agreement, that peace was possible.

 

Given the affirmative in response, the celestial placed one of his giant hands upon the emissary's head, and squeezed. There was an eternity of shocked silence, the only sound that of the Nerakhti's nearly headless body crumpling into the dry grass. Nobody moved. Nobody even knew what to do or how to react. It was Kosta who spoke first after this unexpected act.

 

“Leave one,” he stated simply, looking toward the celestial among the Nerakhti. Without reply or hesitation, the celestial drew his blade and turned its edge on the warriors about him in a whirlwind of blood and screams of pain cut short. The Zekhlanders stood still yet as the Nerakhti fell to the celestial like defenseless children, though it was over before they could have made any move if they tried. The Nerakhti raised sword and shield in defiance, they were cut down with such speed that the killing blow could rarely even seen by the frozen onlookers. With every blow, a guard or two fell, dismembered, the celestial roaring Zekhlander battle-cries that drowned out their cries of pain. Lord Vastner had fallen backwards at the violent death of his foreign peer, blood and bone staining the front of his pearl-white robes, and was pulling himself frantically over the ground. The young Nerakhti messenger, seeing the devastation wrought upon soldiers he idolized, initiated by the celestials he worshiped, was openly weeping as he turned the horse around and spurred it into full flight.

 

Bosarn finally moved as the last of the Nerakhti died, gathering Lord Vastner up as the consul yelled for someone to stop him. Him turned out to be the messenger, according to the pointed finger. It made sense to Kastil, to stop the messenger from spreading word of what just happened. He numbly turned to where the horses were tied, cutting one loose. As he made to climb onto it however, a powerful hand gripped him by the shoulder and flung him a half dozen feet. His arm cracked with the impact. More hands reached for him, the other guards pulling him to his feet. The three celestials were surrounding the Zekhlanders, blocking them from going after the fleeing Nerakhti.

 

“Why? Why?” Lord Vastner was yelling at the larger celestial.

 

“No matter how you seek it, no matter how close you come to it, peace will never come to this world. The Nerakhti union will see this as a betrayal on your part, and the war between your peoples will continue.” The words were delivered calmly, matter-of-fact. Vastner composed himself, stepping away from Bosarn and straightening the front of his robe of office, defiance in his eyes.

 

“No, I will not accept that. They will know the truth of what happened here, that there were daemons parading as the divine Emperor's celestials. I will bare my own neck to the executioner as penance for your crimes, as evidence of Zekhland innocence.”

 

“The Chapter accepts your martyrdom.” The giant directs his next words to the other two.

 

“Leave none.”

 

[Dosjetka]

Just under seven hours to go ;)

[Gaius Atticus]

Here's my Pedro. I realised I hadn't done a before shot, so I've added in a partially completed pic as well, so you know I actually painted it and didn't just lift the mini out of a box.

 

http://i867.photobucket.com/albums/ab235/iamcjb/IMG_3283.jpg

 

http://i867.photobucket.com/albums/ab235/iamcjb/IMG_3197.jpg

[Dosjetka]

Right, challenge is definitely closed now! ;)

 

I'll post up a conclusion post tomorrow evening and explain what happens next! :D

[Gresiloth]

Shame I missed the deadline, but here is my standard bearer. Painting ultrasmurfs yellow feels good.

 

http://i73.photobucket.com/albums/i211/ashbeyj/100_3313_zpsl9lawqrz.jpg

 

http://i73.photobucket.com/albums/i211/ashbeyj/100_3309_zpsdbuoed5s.jpg

[Lachdannan]

That is amazing!

[Slips]

Also missed the Deadline but I did paint a Contemptor for the Heresy Sub for ETL yesterday.

 

 

[Lachdannan]

Looking good!

[Marshal Mattias]

Lovely work here!