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A Lesser Son of Greater Fathers

 

 

It should have been Diocletian.

 

I found myself thinking that several times over the months that followed the retreat from Valdenhold. In the chaos following the slaughter outside the capital city, Diocletian had been the one to lead the company out of the mire Lepidus had got us into. I'd helped, true. Perhaps there are a few of my brothers who wouldn't be alive today if I hadn't broken the chain of command, like Diocletian. But I wouldn't claim any glory from that. Diocletian was the one who understood what that bastard Lepidus blinded himself to - that the Eldar had the superior position, had amassed overwhelming firepower and had been expecting us - and ordered a fighting retreat, in the face of our company captain's incandescent rage.

 

It's amusing, in a way. All the Legions have their own flaws. The Fists will never bend, never yield an inch no matter the blood price, and that's their greatest strength and flaw. The sons of Manus obsess over stamping out the weaknesses of mortal flesh and in so doing lose the very thing we were geneforged to protect. The warriors of the Khan favour speed above all else, so that their reach exceeds their grasp.

 

But only we of the XIII build statues, palaces and monuments to commemorate the tales of our own heroism, and think it somehow makes us invulnerable to defeat, to shame, to the bitter, numbing pain of simple, utter failure. A warrior dances between victory and defeat every time he draws his blade, and has to treat one just like the other, free of ego or self-aggrandisement. Anything else and he's lost that balance that makes a warrior worthy of the name. And we of the XIII forgot that. We started to believe our own legend.

 

Diocletian led us out of that disaster and died doing it. He was the leader we needed then and the leader we desperately need now. They found the corpse of Lepidus, afterwards, prideful Lepidus who lost half a hundred warriors of his company to a battle that should never have been fought, vain Lepidus who sold his brothers' lives for a chance at being the first into Valdenhold to raise the Eagle over its walls in triumph.

 

Yes, they found Lepidus' body. I made sure of that. I wouldn't have wanted such a proud leader of our glorious Legion to lose his chance at internment in the Halls of Hera.

 

They came to me, long afterwards, when Valdenhold had finally been sacked and another score of us had died breaching its walls. I still think they knew. They must have. But none amongst the Legion's commanders mentioned it, and Lepidus was interned with full honours, and I - I, who had disobeyed my commander to save my brothers - was cast out of the company into the ranks of the censuria.

 

So I will never rest alongside Lepidus, in the great Halls of Hera on Macragge. I'll never lie next to that bastard's corpse in glorious repose for future generations to wonder at and dedicate victories to. My name will never be known in the Legion's rolls of honour. The men I lead now will just hear the rumours that the man who leads them committed a sin far worse than any of theirs, and question all that they'd been taught about our glorious, honourable, noble Legion.

 

Yes, it should have been Diocletian. He'd have taken these men and given them something else, some idea that would have transformed them, a fire in their spirits that would have rekindled the glory of hallowed Macragge in their hearts and reminded them of what it means to be Ultramarines.

 

But the universe does not like a happy ending. So it falls to me to lead these men, in these darkest of days when the galaxy tears itself apart and Horus proves to us all what a beguiling joke the brotherhood of the Legions really was.

 

I am not Diocletian. I am a lesser son of far, far greater fathers. But no matter how far my brothers have fallen, they deserve a chance to redeem their sins. I will stand alongside them and lead them from the darkness that threatens to swallow us all, and if there is any measure of redemption to be gained in this grim existence, I swear by the last drop of my life's blood that there is no force in this life or the next that will stop me from leading them to it.

 

 

 

http://i1269.photobucket.com/albums/jj598/Mjolnir771/P1020953_zpsxymafwnl.jpg

 

http://i1269.photobucket.com/albums/jj598/Mjolnir771/P1020956_zps0zmbicrh.jpg

 

http://i1269.photobucket.com/albums/jj598/Mjolnir771/P1020955_zpsl24mz0oc.jpg

 

http://i1269.photobucket.com/albums/jj598/Mjolnir771/P1020954_zpstx4ndhcy.jpg

 

http://i1269.photobucket.com/albums/jj598/Mjolnir771/P1020958_zpsnnko0wpi.jpg

Edited by Brother-Captain Arkhan
  • 1 month later...

Sapphon, Master of the Reclusiam, Hight Interogator of the Dark Angels Chapter :

http://i24.photobucket.com/albums/c50/GalthanIronsturm/4eme%20Compagnie%20de%20combat/DSC02449_zpsqulb6ggm.jpg

 

Interogator Barziel, Master Izikiel and Sapphon...3 characters based on Seraphicus !

http://i24.photobucket.com/albums/c50/GalthanIronsturm/Autres/DSC02465_zpshonnosbq.jpg

 

Suprem Grand-Master Azrael :

http://i24.photobucket.com/albums/c50/GalthanIronsturm/4eme%20Compagnie%20de%20combat/DSC02567_zpstudlnhzw.jpg

 

Inner Circle oh IVrth Cie

http://i24.photobucket.com/albums/c50/GalthanIronsturm/4eme%20Compagnie%20de%20combat/DSC01440_zps3c8058f5.jpg

 

Sammael and his Black Knights :

[url=http://s24.photobucket.com/user/GalthanIronsturm/media/Ravenwing/DSC01442_zpsa74774f1.jpg.html]http://i24.photobucket.com/albums/c50/GalthanIronsturm/Ravenwing/DSC01442_zpsa74774f1.jpg

 

 

I hope you like them !

Edited by Galthan Ironsturm

Interogator Barziel, Master Izikiel and Sapphon...3 characters based on Seraphicus !

http://i24.photobucket.com/albums/c50/GalthanIronsturm/Autres/DSC02465_zpshonnosbq.jpg

 

Really like these, you've done a good job of making them look sufficiently different from each other that at first glance, I didn't notice they were all based on Serraphicus.

 

A Lesser Son of Greater Fathers

 

It should have been Diocletian.

 

I found myself thinking that several times over the months that followed the retreat from Valdenhold. In the chaos following the slaughter outside the capital city, Diocletian had been the one to lead the company out of the mire Lepidus had got us into. I'd helped, true. Perhaps there are a few of my brothers who wouldn't be alive today if I hadn't broken the chain of command, like Diocletian. But I wouldn't claim any glory from that. Diocletian was the one who understood what that bastard Lepidus blinded himself to - that the Eldar had the superior position, had amassed overwhelming firepower and had been expecting us - and ordered a fighting retreat, in the face of our company captain's incandescent rage.

 

It's amusing, in a way. All the Legions have their own flaws. The Fists will never bend, never yield an inch no matter the blood price, and that's their greatest strength and flaw. The sons of Manus obsess over stamping out the weaknesses of mortal flesh and in so doing lose the very thing we were geneforged to protect. The warriors of the Khan favour speed above all else, so that their reach exceeds their grasp.

 

But only we of the XIII build statues, palaces and monuments to commemorate the tales of our own heroism, and think it somehow makes us invulnerable to defeat, to shame, to the bitter, numbing pain of simple, utter failure. A warrior dances between victory and defeat every time he draws his blade, and has to treat one just like the other, free of ego or self-aggrandisement. Anything else and he's lost that balance that makes a warrior worthy of the name. And we of the XIII forgot that. We started to believe our own legend.

 

Diocletian led us out of that disaster and died doing it. He was the leader we needed then and the leader we desperately need now. They found the corpse of Lepidus, afterwards, prideful Lepidus who lost half a hundred warriors of his company to a battle that should never have been fought, vain Lepidus who sold his brothers' lives for a chance at being the first into Valdenhold to raise the Eagle over its walls in triumph.

 

Yes, they found Lepidus' body. I made sure of that. I wouldn't have wanted such a proud leader of our glorious Legion to lose his chance at internment in the Halls of Hera.

 

They came to me, long afterwards, when Valdenhold had finally been sacked and another score of us had died breaching its walls. I still think they knew. They must have. But none amongst the Legion's commanders mentioned it, and Lepidus was interned with full honours, and I - I, who had disobeyed my commander to save my brothers - was cast out of the company into the ranks of the censuria.

 

So I will never rest alongside Lepidus, in the great Halls of Hera on Macragge. I'll never lie next to that bastard's corpse in glorious repose for future generations to wonder at and dedicate victories to. My name will never be known in the Legion's rolls of honour. The men I lead now will just hear the rumours that the man who leads them committed a sin far worse than any of theirs, and question all that they'd been taught about our glorious, honourable, noble Legion.

 

Yes, it should have been Diocletian. He'd have taken these men and given them something else, some idea that would have transformed them, a fire in their spirits that would have rekindled the glory of hallowed Macragge in their hearts and reminded them of what it means to be Ultramarines.

 

But the universe does not like a happy ending. So it falls to me to lead these men, in these darkest of days when the galaxy tears itself apart and Horus proves to us all what a beguiling joke the brotherhood of the Legions really was.

 

I am not Diocletian. I am a lesser son of far, far greater fathers. But no matter how far my brothers have fallen, they deserve a chance to redeem their sins. I will stand alongside them and lead them from the darkness that threatens to swallow us all, and if there is any measure of redemption to be gained in this grim existence, I swear by the last drop of my life's blood that there is no force in this life or the next that will stop me from leading them to it.

 

 

 

 

http://i1269.photobucket.com/albums/jj598/Mjolnir771/P1020953_zpsxymafwnl.jpg

http://i1269.photobucket.com/albums/jj598/Mjolnir771/P1020956_zps0zmbicrh.jpg

http://i1269.photobucket.com/albums/jj598/Mjolnir771/P1020955_zpsl24mz0oc.jpg

http://i1269.photobucket.com/albums/jj598/Mjolnir771/P1020954_zpstx4ndhcy.jpg

http://i1269.photobucket.com/albums/jj598/Mjolnir771/P1020958_zpsnnko0wpi.jpg

He looks so cool. But everytime I look at him, I see Maximus Decimus Meridius(?) and in my mind I hear a Hans Zimmer Soundtrack Edited by MikhalLeNoir

Still on the photo desk, just finished a Fulgrim commission job. This is a really nice model, I wasn't sure it's worth £60, but having built it now, I might just get one for myself one day.

With diorama base:
http://www.winterdyne.co.uk/maz/images/commissions/Draycott/fulgrim_done1.jpg
http://www.winterdyne.co.uk/maz/images/commissions/Draycott/fulgrim_done2.jpg
http://www.winterdyne.co.uk/maz/images/commissions/Draycott/fulgrim_done3.jpg
http://www.winterdyne.co.uk/maz/images/commissions/Draycott/fulgrim_done4.jpg

Without:
http://www.winterdyne.co.uk/maz/images/commissions/Draycott/fulgrim_done5.jpg
http://www.winterdyne.co.uk/maz/images/commissions/Draycott/fulgrim_done6.jpg
http://www.winterdyne.co.uk/maz/images/commissions/Draycott/fulgrim_done7.jpg
http://www.winterdyne.co.uk/maz/images/commissions/Draycott/fulgrim_done8.jpg
 

  • 1 month later...

Couple of my HQ's for my Wrath force for KDK:

 

http://i187.photobucket.com/albums/x292/hellgunboy/IMG_0157_zpsydsktezg.jpg

 

http://i187.photobucket.com/albums/x292/hellgunboy/230%20-%20Copy_zpsdx4sjq31.jpg

 

Check my blog on the link for more Khorney goodness :) 

IX: The Reaver of Badram
 
It was hell. Terra was burning and brethren and cousins were dying left and right. My lord, Supreme-Nephilim Lazav, has divided his force into three hosts. I was appointed to lead the breachers and defend the Oriandes Gate. Fitting, as I am my lord's Aegis. Usually, we of the IXth love the throes of battle, but this...this is different. There is no rush of hot blood in my veins, no hunger rising in me. This is not holy vengeance. This is cold punishment.
The World Eaters are storming against us, dying en masse as we gun them down and tear them apart with our own blades. I can feel the crunch of ceramite as my blade Mortis bites into corrupted flesh. I am the bullwark against this tide of mongrels. Heads fly through the air and my inferno-pistol burns bubbling, white holes into my foes. Who thinks I do this with pride is a fool. I weep as I slay my once-cousins. I weep because I see the dream of my father and my father's father die beneath my blade. Unity is no more. But I do what I must, for that is my duty. I protect this gate, because my lord demands it. Iron Warriors and World Eaters fall before me because my father's blood knows true loyalty. I punish the heretics because that is what the true angels of the Emperor do.
I am Nephilim Antael, the Reaver of Badram. I am the shield against the oncoming darkness.


http://i411.photobucket.com/albums/pp194/hodoalmir/BA20Praetor201_zpssiufxsg4.jpg

  • 2 weeks later...

http://i61.photobucket.com/albums/h43/Nemisor/20160608_163104_zpsciegnb9p.jpg

 

http://i61.photobucket.com/albums/h43/Nemisor/20160608_163124_zps3qtt8lup.jpg

 

http://i61.photobucket.com/albums/h43/Nemisor/20160608_163203_zps93a3lczj.jpg

  • 3 weeks later...
  • 2 weeks later...

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