++March of the Legions: XV Completions++

[Brother-Chaplain Kage]

March of the Legions

Month 6 Completions: The XV Legion

http://i.imgur.com/d9epjP6.jpg

Note: due to the chaos of real life and the ETL challenge, XV Legion entries will still be accepted in the WIP thread

and completions can be posted here until the end of October.

Please only leave the five pictures from your completion in the XV Legion Challenge, and the fluff for you characters. Any other comments or text will be deleted. Thank you.

[Slips]

 

Heres my Thousand Sons Librarian Using Servin Loth!

[Ion]

Consul-Librarian Taita Mshai

 

Adept-Major of the Pavoni, Commander of VII Fellowship Seconding Force

 

"What reveals itself to me ceases to be mysterious  for me alone: if I unveil it to anyone else, he hears mere words which betray the living sense: Profanation, but never revelation"

 

It is a well known habit of the XV Legion Astartes to second their most promising officers to another Legion to learn from their 'cousins' and expand their own understanding of warfare. Adept-Major Taita Mshai was one such officer dispatched with a small force of subordinates to join the 954th Expeditionary Fleet under the command of the XX1 Company of the Sons of Horus, at the time still going by the name 'Luna Wolves', where he served as a valued advisor to the Fleet's commander and developed a fondness for the XVI's rapid strike tactics, joining their Assault Squads at the forefront of battle.

 

An Adept-Major of the Pavoni Cult, Mshai was a powerful psyker in his own right, able to hurl bioelectrical lightning at his foes and heal his allies from grievous wounds, however he found his abilities often used to increase his own fighting capabilities in the midst of the swirling melee that he often found himself in.

Mshai and his small force were still seconded to the 954th Fleet when Prospero was razed by the Wolves, and in the dark days that followed he continued to serve as a senior officer in the fleet fighting against the traitorous forces of the Warmaster. His ultimate fate is unknown.

 

http://i.imgur.com/jO02MQ5.jpg

 

Note: Artificer worked Mk IV armour with reinforced torso. Pavoni cult symbol embossed on breastplate and Prosperine Script on left greave designed for esoteric protection

 

http://i.imgur.com/Aw0z2ei.jpg

 

http://i.imgur.com/R4uCbUq.jpg

 

http://i.imgur.com/egcBxwM.jpg

 

http://i.imgur.com/BBGlz5L.jpg

Note: Refractor Field technology hidden within winged Scarab icon on jump pack

[Ezeriel]

Rhyshal, the Dark Flame

Rhyshal was one of the first Prosperine youths to join the legion after Magnus was given control of the legion. A quiet, brooding member of the Pyrae cult, he had few brothers in the legion that he was close to. It is thought that this was the reason why his psychic flames were always dark and sinister in appearance.

He would eventually fall with most of the legion during the attack by the sons of Russ. During his final moments he saw many of his fellow legionaires succumbing to the flesh change while trying to hold back the Imperial forces. He was seen burning his mutating brothers to ash, while also holding the enemy at bay. He eventually fell when a Silent Sister was able to get near him and supress his powers. He was then ripped into chunks by a pack of Fenrisian Wolves.

[Atia]

Consul-Praevian Ardashir

Master of Technopathy, Lord of the Osirian-Battle-Maniple

This depiction of Consul-Praevian Ardashir of the Thousand Sons' Pyrae Cult is based on one of the few extant images from the Battle of Tizsca, during the Burning of Prospero. This master of technopathy and pyromancy was commander of the famous Osirian-Battle-Maniple, a Legio Cybernetica battlegroup oath-bounded to the XVth Legion. His secondary psychic abilities allowed him to control and manipulate the mechanical automata with the help of psycho-active crystals built into the machines. It is believed that Ardashir, like many of his brethren, managed to escape from Prospero alongside a few dozen of his robots, and that he became a contender of the title "Magister Primus of the Pyrae" on the sinister world of Sortiarius ...

Note: artificer-forged Mark II Crusade pattern power armour

[StruManChu]

I ran, for I was afraid. It was not the last time.

We had been travelling through the foothills of the Eastern Francish lands, and our caravans arrived in a settlement named for a Catheric Saint. My uncles had thought to ply the settlers with our songs and stories in exchange for sanctuary for the evening. The wastes were full of marauders and beasts and any offer of protection is, to this day, not given nor received lightly.

Nevertheless they had agreed terms. The settlers shared from their stores and we had broken bread and spilled wine. My sisters and cousins danced for hours under the light of the stars as our rumbling music cylinders filled the air with song. The night was an oasis. It had allowed the settlers a brief, shining interval from a life both bleak and oppressive.

It was one of my uncles, Varùk, who brought all of that to an abrupt ending. Intoxicated on the settler’s wine, his enormous hand caught the scruff of my neck and dragged me away from my perch on one of the caravan’s stairs. So enthusiastic was he that my feet could barely touch the ground as he hefted me toward the camp’s leaders standing around the fire in the central square. I wasn’t afraid though. Not yet.

He beamed with delight as he brought me before the camp's elders. “Sirs, sirs!” he roared, his rich baritone almost in tune with the music echoing through the camp. “Come, see this boy, see my Jakon!” Others around the square all took note of us as we approached the settlement's most senior members. They all smiled down at me.

I had possessed an affinity with flame since I was little more than an infant. My aunt Veronique had often told the story of the day she had heard my screams and rushed to my aid only to find me laughing as I pulled flames out of the galley wagon’s gas-stove with my bare hands and wrapped them around myself. Since then I'd known my uncle, even in his drunken state, meant me no harm. He had shown me off a number of times in previous villages and settlements. I knew what I was supposed to do.

I reached out with my hands toward the fire and drew it to me. It was simple, but it was also easy. There were certain places we'd encamped where the fire was more receptive to my instruction, and here, on the edge of an ancient forest, it had almost leapt to me. I weaved it around my hands, letting it dance and grow as it willed; its form fluid and graceful as though it was dancing in step with my sisters.

Deathly silence had fallen over those assembled. It lasted only a few moments, but I will never forget the uncertainty I'd felt in those seconds, nor the dread that rose in my heart as the settlement's most senior leader drew a pistol from its holster at his side and screamed in my face.

“Witch! WITCH!”

Bells and claxons rang out. Chaos erupted as fear and anger gripped all of us. My relatives made to defend themselves. Uncle Varùk pushed his way toward me. I don't know who it was that threw the first punch, or fired the first shot, but violence fell over the camp. The elder with the pistol aimed it at my heart. He muttered something in a tongue I did not understand, and cocked the weapon's hammer. I knew no other way, so I called the flames to my aid.

The fire leapt forth and burnt the man to a cinder. It devoured him entirely, his pistol, molten and useless, falling to the ground. But the fire didn't stop. It leapt from person to person, as though feeding on the violence and death that had overtaken the camp. It spared no one. My shield had become my weapon.

Less than a minute later, I was running into the forest terrified. All of my family, the only people I'd ever known, were dead. I ran, for I was afraid. It was not the last time.

I was nine years old.

The forest was alive in the night, and there were many threats, especially with the scent of burning flesh in the air. The howling of wolves seemed to follow behind me. I was sure I could hear footsteps mirroring mine to my right and to my left as I ran. Whether or not these dangers were real or simply my fears given voice I will never know.

In time I came upon a clearing in the wood. I was exhausted and in floods of tears. I sobbed and collapsed as the weight of the evening's events finally caught up with me. I realised there wouldn't be anything left of my family to even bury or say goodbye to. I was alone in darkness and despair. I had no hope to cling to.

Light, pure and blinding, tore into my reverie. A portal ripped itself into the clearing and a vast figure strode out of it. In our travels we had heard rumours of the Emperor's work to rid the world of psykers and witches, and in my manic state I thought this must have been one of his agents sent to capture me. I roared as my anger and fear exploded out of my very soul and for the first time in my life, I summoned fire from nothing and hurled it at the giant.

He patted it aside with his red-armoured hand as if it were nothing.

The giant told me his name, his purpose and how he had found me. He told me of his Legion, of their search for their lost father the Sorcerer King and of the Legions leaving Terra to reclaim the galaxy in the name of the Emperor and Mankind. I listened and marvelled at his words. When the time came, I followed willingly.

My name is Jakon LeCuyer. I am a son of Terra, of Prospero and of Magnus. I have survived the Great Crusade and the worst of the threats the galaxy has arrayed against mankind. I have survived the flesh-change and the devastation it laid upon us. I will live through the treachery that falls upon us now. There is nothing that Russ and his dog-sons can do to our Legion that will break it forever. We will live on. I will live on.

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[Der_H]

http://i1145.photobucket.com/albums/o501/henrycoll/March%20of%20the%20Legions/XV/4.jpg

 

Unknown Legionnaire

Legio XV

Thousand Sons

 

The identity of this legionnaire remains a mystery. The power pack modifications with the imperial eagle suggest high decoration or possibly, given the date of this image reportedly after the outset of the Horus Heresy, the signification of loyalist nature. The should pads attest to membership of the Cult of the Serpent, a little documented warrior cult within the XV who have been linked with various forbidden acts and behaviours. This image is thought to have been captured from a Space Wolf data stream, although others report it being found amongst data repositories aboard the Light Cruiser 'Millunia' upon salvage of her hulk. The actions, allegiance and role this warrior played in the actions of the XV remain a mystery.

 

 

http://i1145.photobucket.com/albums/o501/henrycoll/March%20of%20the%20Legions/XV/2.jpg

 

http://i1145.photobucket.com/albums/o501/henrycoll/March%20of%20the%20Legions/XV/3.jpg

 

http://i1145.photobucket.com/albums/o501/henrycoll/March%20of%20the%20Legions/XV/1.jpg

 

http://i1145.photobucket.com/albums/o501/henrycoll/March%20of%20the%20Legions/XV/5.jpg