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Iron Warriors 15th Grand Company - a Pre-Heresy Log


Haratac

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And the Skies darkened with the thunder of ordnance,
A thousand shells raining a thousand times over,
They will know and they will fear,
For our guns are the Gods of War.


Battle Hymn of the 15th Grand Company of the Iron Warriors Legion.


This log will be an attempt to chart and detail the battle liveries and exploits of the 15th Great Company of the Iron Warriors Legion during the Horus Heresy. Following the force as it was attached to the 43rd Expeditionary Force were the Rememberancers Grigor Halvi, Lysa Rebeu and Martil Aranam, of whose works this compilation will document. This log will chart the Company as it begins its foray into the Great Crusade, and eventually the Great Rebellion lead by the Traitor, Horus.

(In other words, welcome to my Pre-Heresy Log, where I chart the construction of my Pre-Heresy Iron Warriors force from a mere 1000 points to a beastly 3000)

Sergeant Rutgar Trolv was in no mood for humour. As he walked through the devastated city of Yalta, capital city of Unterex Prime, he saw the cost of such an engagement. Hundreds of civilians perished in the final bombardments their company had unleashed upon the city, firing shell after shell into the defences and slums of the once vast city. Its buildings shattered, the shelters the populace fled into burning and ash-ridden, he could only grimace at the depth of the destruction. The IV Legion were a brutal one, whose speciality in cold and efficient killing had led them to the most ardeous, drawn out conflicts imaginable, but that did not mean the Astartes within the Legion were equally as cold. His men were tired and exhausted, for even their super human endurance could not endure such brutal conditions. Laying outside the city for a year, the meagre force of the 15th Company waited and starved out the collosal city, bombarding it until there was nothing left and the leaders finally surrendered. Trolv walked amongst the ruins of what was once a school, and wondered what the Crusade truly meant, seeing such enlightening insititutions laid low by the killing power of the artillery.

Was this the Great Crusade? To shatter a man's spirit until there was nothing but a shell? And then teach that shell to obey? They talk of illumination, but only the skies are illuminated by the fire they reign down upon world after world.

This has never changed, war will never change, Trolv found himself thinking.


http://www.warseer.com/forums/attachment.php?attachmentid=219307&d=1440887219&thumb=1

Pict Capt of Serg. Rutgar Trolv and his Vexillia Fervlx Halyn taken from the ruins of Yalta.

http://www.warseer.com/forums/attachment.php?attachmentid=219308&d=1440887412&thumb=1

http://www.warseer.com/forums/attachment.php?attachmentid=219309&d=1440887680&thumb=1

 

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The battle for Yalta was hard-fought, and ruthless. Between the white-washed marble buildings of the Unterex peoples, the Iron Warriors killed all who raised arms against them. The year long siege had been costly, with the walls of the city holding off all but the last of the assaults the Iron Warriors and their Imperial Army soldiers would launch at them. The Centurion, Feriux Kralv had seen the battle and led the majority of the engagements there. He was an accomplished strategist and a master siege-breaker and he was tasked by Legionary High Command to take Yalta and make an example of the capital to the remaining population. With his characteristic zeal, he did just that. And as Kralv walked amongst the ruins, he felt a grim sense of pride in his work. Each shell had been timed to perfection, aimed to ensure maximum carnage. Every bolter shell expended took its equal amount in mortal lives. All costs were accounted for and managed well. Mathematically, the war was perfect. Then again, war always is perfect to a man like Feriux Kralv. The Iron Warriors bred hard Astartes, men who gritted their teeth and endured the harshest of attrition, men who were bred to slaughter in cold, intense precision.

They were not fops who prance around with blaes, or blue-armoured grand-daddies who play Empire while ignoring greater duties. They were in the trenches, fighting dogfaced with the average Imperial Army soldiers. Their lives were the currency of war, and Kralv had no issue paying his tithe.

"Centurion Kralv, sir." came the voice of Grigor Dertavum, the officer of the Imperial army who fought alongside the IV. "We have taken the marketplace as per your orders, resistance was minimal but there is a number of buildings still to be captured. I've sent breaching teams within them to engage the Unterex inside, to minimise property damage as per the Imperial Edicts."

"Fine, colonel." came the grizzled reply. Engaging his vox-comm, Kralv shrugged away Dertavum's complaints as he gave his latest order: "Sergeant Urimax of the 11th Grand Artillery Battery. Centre your guns on the marketplace within the capital. Co-ordinates 13,45. Fire on my mark... Mark." and a whistle of shells flew overhead, creating blossoms of explosions deep in the city.

"My lord...err, we were to minimise damage! My men!"

"Your men allowed our artillery to aim with precision, they did their duty. See the remaining Imperial Army forces do theirs."


http://www.warseer.com/forums/attachment.php?attachmentid=219505&d=1441187768&thumb=1

Pict capt of Centurion Feriux Kralv amongst the ruins of Yalta. He is armed in a custom suit of MKV armour, and carries communication equipment and an archaic powerfist. His custom bolter, Iron Tooth, is an unknown pattern that features sensors and accuracy sites, along with digi-counters and munition bags.
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Thank you! I've been a long time lurker of B&C, but only just made an account, purely because this is the first army I've been disciplined enough to paint in good numbers.

 

_______

 

Order of Battle of the 3rd Grand Battalion of the 15th Grand Company, Legio IV Iron Warriors

COMMAND STAFF AND ATTENDEES:

Centurion Feriux Kralv, Commanding
Assisted by various Legionary staff and non-Astartes adjudicants.

Centurion Tiber Hrawl, Master of Signals

ATTACHED LEGIONARY VETERAN SUPPORT:

'Scions of Olympia' Tyrant Siege Terminator Squad, lead by Veteran Sergeant Bolthor Grinar

TACTICAL UNITS:

Squad Alpha: Tactical Squad led by Sergeant Rutgar Trolv

Squad Beta: Tactical Squad led by Sergeant Tiber Syndoi

Squad Gamma: Tactical Squad led by Sergeant Eritas Utgar

SUPPORT UNITS:

Squad Delta 'Ironsights': Iron Havocs Squad led by Sergeant Ptomeli Jorden

'Mountainbreaker': Vindicator support tank.

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Welcome to B&C Haratac. That's an impressive first post. I always like seeing the IVth getting some love in the Heresy. If nothing else, it gives me inspiration for my own. I enjoyed reading your fluff. The single mindedness and callousness of the Iron Warriors was particularly apparent in Kralv. Certainly not someone I'd want to cross.

 

I look forward to seeing this plog develop. I'm curious to see your take on Tyrants as they have no official model yet.

 

If I have one piece of advice, I'd suggest making the images larger. I've found a lot of people simply can't be bothered to click a link or an image to enlarge it to a reasonable size, and it would be a shame for them to miss out on your lovely models.

 

Keep up the good work.

 

Dallo

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Ah, finally, another local gamer! I only have the one fellow 40k/30k player I know of! And thank you Dallo, I really appreciate your comments! I'm trying to develop a story alongside my miniatures, to show the character of not only the Legion but each soldier within. As I complete units, I'll add to the story until I reach the armies completion. Unfortunately, my Tyrants are delayed as the Termies I bought were miscast, so I'm waiting on Forgeworld for them. In the time being, I have twenty more MKII mariens to paint! In regards to larger photos, I'm trying to sort that but I'm not 100% how, may have to edit them, enlarge and then upload perhaps! I don't plog very often, and when I do it nearly always lasts a day or so!

 

_________

 The majesty of war had been absolute on Yalta. The other sergeants in the 3rd had been callous in their assaults, as if they had points to prove. Tiber Syndoi needed to prove himself to no man. He was a figure of legend in the Company, and he knew it. A hundred bunkers had fallen to his squad, and he himself battered down each door with his powered gauntlet. There was no reinforced hatch too strong for Syndoi, and as he burst through the latest bunker, he allowed himself a moment of joy as the frightened defenders looked upon him.

"Witness the Imperial Truth!" he yelled with a glimmer of cynicism as he raised his pistol and fired into the huddled defenders. His squad fell behind him, shooting into the mass of tight bodies. It was only until the firing stopped that they realised they were almost all civilians.

No matter, Syndoi thought. This is war.


http://www.warseer.com/forums/attachment.php?attachmentid=219545&d=1441319578&thumb=1

Pict capt of Tiber Syndoi amongst the ruins of Yalta. Syndoi was known for his brutality, and his assault capabilities. He was a veteran leading a squad of Astartes he deemed the 'Linebreakers', and always assault the heaviest positions.

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Trolv and his squad advanced through the ruined city. At the end of the street stood a large structure, clearly built to house some sort of government. It was an office - however, not a grand palace, and the Unterex had fortified it and had a firing line on the entire road. Although the city had been conquered, pockets of resistance remained and the IV Legion were moving house to house, street to street and rooting them out. It was a hard task but they risked guerilla warfare if even a glimmer of resistance was allowed to flourise in the shattered city.

On the opposite side of the road advanced Syndoi and his squad of veterans, clinging to the buildings and sheltering against the chatter of the Unterex machine-gun that bore down upon them. The Iron Warriors were not firing back but instead filing carefully and meticulously towards the ruined office, minimising their exposure to the guns. This was not a tactic designed to keep them alive however, but merely to clear the road. The machine-gun chattered again, a loud roaring sound that saw one of Trolv's men cut down in the street. He fell to his knees and died, and one other Astartes looked back but was pushed forward.

An explosion and a large cloud of dust appeared behind them, the shattered remains of another structure falling in a crescendo of noise. Streaks of missiles fired overhead, striking the office in blossoms of ruby-red explosions. A body fell from the top of the structure, falling apart mid-air, severed limbs falling through the air and drawing arcs of burning viscera as it tumbled. Behind them, the Scions of Olympia had arrived, five terminators massing their Cyclone torpedoes in a substantial force of fire against the structure. But still it stood, and as Rutgar Trolv advanced, he felt as if this was microcosmic version of the conflict in its entirety.

"Tiber!" yelled Trolv, his voice thick with fury. "Bring your squad into that building beside you. Take a high field of fire and pin that emplacement!". The reply was distorted, but Rutgar saw Syndoi's fury a mile away. The veteran was proud but he understood the merit of Trolv's command. While Syndoi was the superior in terms of both rank and veterancy, he seemed to prefer following commands than issuing them. He was a brutal instrument and was best used as a ram to Rutgar's clear-minded strategy.

"Sergeant Trolv!" came a gutteral bark over the vox. It was garbled, but clear.

"Yes Centurion" Trolv answered with dilligence.

"You orders have changed, you are to draw fire from a structure to the right of the office."

"Why sir? That is not our primary threat!"

"Inside is a trio of militia with heavy ordnance. They pose no threat to you, but they do to our armour" Centurion Feriux Kralv replied darkly and without compassion. He knew that that sort of ordnance posed a severe threat to infantry; but the cost was acceptable. They were the bait, a distraction.

It came with the weight of rage upon it. Rolling down the road that Trolv and Syndoi had so meticulously advanced down without any harm, the Mountain Breaker came. Its low hung chassis belied the threat it posed. Nestled between a poisonous yellow and malicious black gunshield, a stubby barrel sited itself upon the office in front.

There came the vox-signal:

"Danger close, Astartes. Firing solution marked...fire."

The sound was a dull thud. And then an explosion that ripped into the office, tearing chunks of masonry flying into the sky. The office shuddered under the impact, and then fell into itself.





http://i18.photobucket.com/albums/b136/theheretic_91/Vindi.jpg
Mountainbreaker in the streets of Yalta.

 

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http://i18.photobucket.com/albums/b136/theheretic_91/Models/20150909_180038.jpg
http://i18.photobucket.com/albums/b136/theheretic_91/Models/20150909_180029.jpg

Some more photos of Mountainbreaker, slightly off fluff but I'm happy with it!

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The sounds of war had long since dulled for Ptomeli Jorden. His sights were set down a vast street, and he held his autocannon close to him as he ranged down the road. They had long since cleared the city but there was resistance still. As the tides of war flattened the officeblock that housed some of the renegade command, Ptomeli spied shapes moving in the alleys, yet his brother-astartes had long since departed. With a cynical sigh he watched as a number of militiamen walked across the street in formation, hunkering low to avoid non-existant gunfire, slinking in the shadows of long ruined structures.

 

Watching still, he rested the barrel of his autocannon, aiming at their feet. Nodding his head at the rest of his squad, Ptolemi squeezed the trigger and a furious barrage of shells erupted from the building. Autocannons were violent, raw weapons and as he emptied shell after shell into the militia squad, the dust and viscera kicked up a small cloud of pink-grey matter in the road until the squad no longer existed.

 

Examining the marks that remained on the road, Ptolemi reloaded his autocannons and scanned the road still.

 

"Such a waste of ammunition." he sighed, saddened by the settling remains of militia he had just ruined. Ptolemi Jorden tried to be a dutiful, honourable soldier and he always held his orders to the letter. He was an Iron Havoc, a heavy weapons specialist, and his work was usually to destroy vehicles and emplacements. Not make an example of resisitance fighters as Kralv had demanded.

 

http://i18.photobucket.com/albums/b136/theheretic_91/Models/2015-09-12%2017.15.54.jpg

http://i18.photobucket.com/albums/b136/theheretic_91/Models/2015-09-12%2017.16.54.jpg

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  • 3 weeks later...
Were the Iron Warriors masters of siegecraft, Bolthor Grinar was the epitome of that. Yalta had been costly, and an intense siege, but it was glorious. His Tyrants breached the walls and entered like the conquering Grieks of old. Upon the shoulders of their bulky cataphractii armour, missile after missile had fired off in a grim carronade of glorious firepower.

The walls had stood no chance under the intense bombardment, and as they marched inside, they lumbered across the still-collapsing wall, leveling structures and bunkers and cutting down all firepower. No one Tyrant had fell in the siege, and as the siege turned into a guerilla battle, Grinar had turned to piecemeal destruction. Block by block, house by house, they had left nothing but craters in their wake.

Yalta was to be no more, its marble stone and beautiful courtyards leveled to a complete crater filled ruin. For Bolthor Grinar, the Great Crusade was an outlet for absolute destruction of all


http://i18.photobucket.com/albums/b136/theheretic_91/Models/20150930_145433.jpg
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  • 2 weeks later...

Like a storm of heavens, Perturabo's wrath was sublime.The IVth Legion was meticulous, callous and cold, but once the moment was right, their wrath and fury descended upon their enemies as if they were Angron's hounds. Of the 15th Grand Company, this was ultimately true. Tested in the fires of Yalta, the company was to move upon the verdent and beautiful fortress world of Celestius Primus, or Forty-Three Eleven. The world was a nothing but plain fields, agricultural settlements and beautiful, verdent landscapes. The local population were human - but humans who once again, rejected the Great Crusade and all that it stood for. So the repressed 15th Legion fell upon the planet, immediately setting up fortifications in preparation for a long war.

 

In response - the humans of the world did the same, and for four months, no shots were fired as the two sides dug trenches, built fortifications and prepared themselves for the coming war. Yet this was not of the Iron Warriors flaw to immediately dig in and wait. Instead, they were aware that other elements of their fleet were seperated and would arrive later. So the vanguard elements forced the humans of Celestius Primus to dig in, to sit and wait, for the inevitable...

 

For attached to the 15th Company were other elements, of the armoured elements of the 9th. And upon the backs of mass landers and haulers, the armour came in their hundreds across the long, thick grass of Celestius Primus.

 

And like the thunder gods of Old Earth, they roared.

 

http://i18.photobucket.com/albums/b136/theheretic_91/Mobile%20Uploads/8fd63e6c-1f1f-4633-b140-dc7ce74fd592.jpg

 

Armour of the 9th moves within the fields of Forty-Three Eleven. Crushing through grass higher than a man, the tanks of the Iron Warriors rolled out. Leading them was the Typhon, "Scion of Ruin"...

 

 

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Although slightly off fluff, here's my latest addition: Narik Dreygur and some converted Iron Circle:

 

http://i18.photobucket.com/albums/b136/theheretic_91/12169654_10153675667493373_251481192_o.jpg

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  • 1 month later...

"Listen to me, rememberancer. Make no mistake, I see no use in your presence, but the Great Crusade has seen it fit to burden me with your existence, so I must do so." Came a voice, with such an air of brutal majesty that it took Lysa a few moments to compose herself. Her tiny, lithe frame was dominated by the colossal demigod sat opposite her. In his dull metal plate, Perturabo, Lord of Iron, sat observing a massive strategic table. His scolding gaze met her eyes, but for a second she saw a glimmer of subdued inquisition.

"It is right that we document and learn from events, for Humanity has often lingered in its own ignorance. And that is what we are doing, we are saving Humanity from its own ignorance." In her enthrallment at the Primarch, she failed to catch the regret in his words. Perturabo did not believe them, he believed in duty. In his mind, Perturabo was thankful to see one. His deeds can finally be recorded and recognised. But a demigod should never feel such falliable things, and those thoughts left the back of his mind.

"This is a war-room, where I plan my strategies, as you well know. Where you are sat, is usually reserved for my Trident."

"Your war council?" Lysa asked, looking up from her notepad to see Perturabo moving a formation across the table. His intelligence was clearly at show. With one hand, he moved pieces, with another, he calculated possibilities and the results of such movements.
"Where are they now?" She asked again, allowing him a moment to consider, but then realised he had likely not noticed their absence.

"They should be on the mustering deck, each briefing their forces on the plans I have developed. The prosecution of this campaign is vital to securing this region. Though I have only ever simulated an engagement against this particular foe. So it shall be interesting to make war against such an enemy."

"What enemy is that, my Lord?"

"I wish you would not call me that. My Warsmiths may, but you are not of my service."

"But the enemy is House Martinex, a Knight Household that rules this world and will not bow to Imperial Rule."

"A Knight Household?" Lysa was taken aback. Such an enemy was unheard of - nearly every Knight Household that was found during the Great Crusade immediately bowed to Imperial Rule, and the others bowed to Mars. Martinex does not care for what we bring, and as such, they are to be made example of. I asked you here, to my chamber, while the rest of my Rememberancers stay in a single floor of the ship. I know you will document the truth."

"The truth of what, Perturabo?"

She expected a violent end for calling him by his name, for not even his Legion did so. Instead the Lord of Iron looked upon her face, his cold calculating face wartorn and resolute.

"The truth of the Great Crusade, what it really is."

 



The 15th Grand Company had assembled for war as a matter of course, but this was different. The Grand Company was not to fight alone, but with the Eleventh and Seventh Grand Companies. Yet, for all his preparations, Warsmith Tibor Brulax felt terror. He was an unrenowned Warsmith, not favoured by Perturabo, but not abhorred by him. He simply did his job, and paid no heed to the politics of the Iron Warriors. His teeth gritted against the ashen air of their mustering ground, he watched as the sky darkened with a swarm of dropships. Their engines howled, massive landers carrying thousands of Iron Warriors, and the bulk landers of the Mechanicum, bringing Titans of the Legio Typhonii. But upon the platform, looking upon his mustered troops, Tibor felt afraid, for the Lord of Iron was to arrive.

And yet, he was to just be an observer. Brulax was to be the Chief Warsmith of the campaign, even with the Primarch there. It concerned him as to why, but no doubt, Perturabo would tell him. His Grand Company arrayed in perfect formation in front of him, the roar of a Stormbird startled him as it arrived behind him. The Lord of Iron had descended.





I apologise for my absence, I've started a new job and just haven't had time to post! But I've made quite a few additions to my Grand Company, including:

A Siegebreaker and three Medusas, and Perturabo and his Tormentor, all of which will follow shortly.

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