Never a Son so Loyal

[Kol Saresk]

Just a small point of contention in your fluff (which was awesome by the way), why is there only one marine in the drop pod? :D

 

I mean I guess he almost did the job by himself, but Guilliman's accounting OCD would be set off by sending only one marine down in a pod. Gotta think about fuel costs :P

I think it's more that one Marine survived them first shooting the drop pod out of the sky and then shooting it again right after it the ground. Hence the Marine having to dig himself out.

 

Part of the idea Flint was talking about how they're learning to fight the Astartes. Namely, don't give them a chance to fight back.

[Castellan Cato]

Came here for #lorgarwasright, was not disappointed. Great piece of writing.

[Pearson73]

Nice starting fluff, looking forwards to more.

[Flint13]

Morning bros!

Since I've had a bunch of questions on how I do my winter white-wash camo, I made a little tutorial as I painted my second Dracosan. Let me know if you have any other questions!

Do You Want to Paint a Snow Tank?

@ BCK - Oh, plenty. Specifically I have 40 more Storm Veletaris and 40 lasrifle Aux to paint 0_o

@ ThatOneMarshall - Highly trained men and women. But yeah, I've been doing Astartes so long, I really wanted to take a shot at what life might be like fighting alongside and against them instead. Glad to hear you're enjoying it so far!

@ WLK - Well... he's a traitor to the Warmaster who is really their top-end commanding officer...

@ Kol - HAH! Exactly

@ WLK - You don't have to buy it. We're giving it out for free

@ Depth - I would explain it, but Kol pretty much nails it in the very next post. Law of averages says two marines would make it out of a demolisher cannoned drop pod, but Ultrabros weren't rolling hot that day

@ Kolx2 - Exactly. The Ash Vipers are firmly aware of the fact that they aren't able to compete with Astartes in any sort of fair engagement. In-game, maybe, but fluff-wise, an Astartes is so far beyond a mortal there is no competition. How do you kill something that's designed to kill you? Don't give it a chance. Preferably from behind a wall of armor.

@ Castellan Cato - Thanks man! I occasionally get a little #enthusiastic

@ Pearson - Will do my best!

[chaplain mortis]

Nice tutorial ;-)

 

Pm me anytime you want to try a slightly more (I mean alot more) weathered look to those tanks lol

 

All looking good!!!

 

Keep em coming :-)

[Jarl Kjaran Coldheart]

@Flint

http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i65/kieran_m/10-of-the-best-grumpy-cat-memes_zpszeuli1cg.png

[Flint13]

4.459.006.M31 - 413th Cohort Heavy Cruiser, War Child

 

++++++

 

Adjutant Karina Tolev’s pounding steps rang off the metal deck plating as she sprinted towards the combat practice cages in the belly of the warship. This was bad. Very bad. Her breath caught in her throat. The Astartes had beaten her here. She could see the Medicae’s hulking form just closing the metal-weave cage door behind him as she rounded the last corner.

 

She came to a panting stop outside of the cage. Commander Kalder would be furious, Tolev thought…  just as the Astartes stepped onto the mats of the practice floor. A few meters away, the Legatina-Primus fought hard against four separate combat servitors. It was no artistic display of blade work; Kalder’s long hafted axe whined as she drove it through the air, hammering blows against the automatons’ defense shields. Sweat ran in rivulets from her gene-bulked frame, her short braid whipping across her muscled shoulders as she moved. Her head snapped around as she caught the unease of her two life-wards. Hattori and Melchior had pushed away from the far wall and were closing from the opposite direction across the practice floor.

 

“Engagement halt,” she barked. The servitors complied, retracting their scarred defensive shields and notched combat blades. She planted the haft of her axe and turned to the Astartes. Tolev frowned as she leaned into the cage mesh. She had never seen someone loom over the Legatina.  Kalder didn’t quite come eye to eye with the Astartes, but it was far more massive than her. Even unarmored, the Space Marine was easily double her weight, its broad shoulders pushing at the bounds of the red and gray robes that cloaked it.

 

http://imagizer.imageshack.us/v2/640x480q90/911/6FnGge.jpg

 

“What are you doing on my ship?” Kalder’s voice was low and simmering. The Astartes dipped his chin respectfully before speaking.

 

“Cohort-Commander, I am Sharak Nol of the XVIIth medicae. I have been sent by Chaplain Kul. We are three months’ time from our planetary objective, and he wishes the time to be spent constructively.”

 

Kalder’s life-wards had reached them, and stood flanking the Legatina, their combat visors impassive. Her left eyebrow rose inquisitively.

 

“I’m listening,” she snorted, tossing her axe to Hattori, who caught it deftly. Melchoir stepped forward and Kalder turned to snap the small towel from his outstretched hand. She ran it across her face, her back to Nol.

 

“I am here to teach your men how to effectively engage and neutralize Astartes warriors,” the Medicae stated flatly. Kalder lifted her head slowly, letting the towel fall to the floor.

 

“Tell me, legionnaire. Can your kind dodge bullets?” Melchoir shifted slightly as the Legatina drew his sidearm from its holster.

 

“No, Cohort-Commander. We cannot.”

 

Kalder  whirled. Tolev let out a short shriek as the bolt pistol in the Legatina’s hand discharged. The adjutant stood wide-eyed, she hadn’t even seen the Astartes move. He held the Legatina’s left arm extended towards the roof of the practice cage, bolt pistol smoking. His right held her other hand down and away from his abdomen. The serrated combat blade clutched in her fingers gleamed wickedly.

 

“We cannot, but we often do not have to,” he continued, voice slow and even, “our reaction threshold borders on thirty times that of an unaugmented human.”

 

The Astartes released his grip on Kalder’s arms and she cocked her head as she stepped back, her gaze roaming across the Marine.

http://imagizer.imageshack.us/v2/640x480q90/910/Y95axW.jpg

 

“Simply put,” he said mildly, “we can move to neutralize before a human brain can process the command to pull the trigger.”

 

The corner of the Legatina’s mouth quirked up just slightly, as she slipped the combat blade into the top of her left boot.

 

“I am here to make sure you and those under your command understand exactly what you will be fighting in the Five Hundred worlds, and how to kill it,” the Astartes clasped his hands in front of him.

 

“The XVII would have us know how to kill their own?” Kalder’s eyes narrowed, “Why?”

 

Sharak Nol smiled broadly, “No, Commander, not our own. Soon, the Sons of the Blessed Aurelian won’t even resemble the Ultramarines biologically, much less ideologically.”

 

Kalder stared at the Astartes for a long time, her ice blue eyes locked with the hazel-brown of the Word Bearer. From outside the practice cage, Tolev barely breathed, all previous exertions forgotten as she watched the pair. With a single, sharp nod, the Legatina reversed her grip on the bolt pistol and held it out to the XVII medicae. 

 

“Show me.”

http://imagizer.imageshack.us/v2/640x480q90/903/CRP0SA.jpg

[Kol Saresk]

Out of curiosity, why white and black? I mean understand the white is for being Apothecary(I assume), but why a black helmet and shoulderpad and not red or grey?

[Jarl Kjaran Coldheart]

I love it.

 

and its something "simple" yet dastardly that shows just how far the Word Bearers have fallen. 

you also made the helix of the shoulder pad look menacing...

[jimbo13]

Yes!!! Loving this thread. Love the interaction and the build up. The Alothecary reminds me of Mordin Solus from mass effect.

[Soldier of Dorn]

Looking good, Flint. Im loving the colour schemes you've got going for the Word Bearers, that dark grey is the shizz (that's a term people use, right? I don't know these things...)

EDIT: Bloody typos.

[Hergrmir]

Very nice!

Seriously though, I think one of the things I really like this is that I can imagine almost an exactly parallel scene happening aboard an Auxilia troop carrier that's part of an Ultramarine battlegroup.

 

In fact, I think your writing reminds me just what I miss about the BL's portrayal of the heresy, and it's that the traitors go from "hey, we're beefing with the exent of Imperial bureaucracy" to incoherent moustache-twirling villains in 60 seconds flat. With the possible exception of Argel Tal (and see where that got him!) it's hard to imagine any traitor (and pretty hard to imagine any of the loyalists, for that matter) actually acting even vaguely respectul to the mortals around them.

 

So, in short, really great work, even if your oaths mean nothing, you vile traitor. :P

[Flint13]

Morning guys! Thanks for all the lovely replies.

@ Kol - Well, for my Word Bearers specifically, everyone has black shoulder pads, but the Apothecary Caduceus takes "precedence." Veterans are designated with black helms, or silver if they are specialists, like destroyers or tactical support.

Gray I wanted to minimize solely b/c my Word Bearers are pretty late in the Heresy

@ WLK - Thanks! That's pretty much exactly what I'm going for. Glad the extra work I put into him paid off.

@ Jimbo - Glad to hear it. I really want to make a story happen with this plog. There will always be models with the fluff updates, sometimes there might just be a single one though

@ Psycho - Haha, that certainly works.

@ Hergmir - Thanks! That's really awesome to hear, and it means a lot that my writing can portray that well enough.

I'm in the exact same boat. I hate how some of the authors of BL seem to think that the only possible function of the Astartes loyal to Horus (or to their primarch over the Emperor... or to themselves...) is to be a foil for the heroic stories of "loyalist" victories. I've only said it 900 times, but it's one of the many reasons Betrayer is my favorite Heresy novel, hands down. When he wrote it, Mr. D-B didn't try to make the World Eaters some sort of misunderstood, oppressed warrior-poets. They are still up maniacs and madmen constantly degenerating deeper into insanity. Same thing with the Word Bearers. They aren't just mustache twirling daemon-consorting cartoon villains, especially Argal Tal. ... which is why I miss him so much... *sniff*... #realbetrayal

But anywho, the 'traitors'. They have purpose. They have ambitions, drives, personalities, and heroes just like the 'loyalists' fighting for the Emperor. They're just different.

...

and way cooler

[Billy Butcher]

 

 

Do You Want to Paint a Snow Tank?

 

 

 

Or drive a tank right through a wall?

[Dantay VI]

The apothecary looks great, are the runes written in blood? Some of them look to be Futhark runes.

 

The blending on the sword is pretty sweet too... As always the stories are top-notch, little vignettes of life in the heresy which help give character to the models and identify with them.

[Kizzdougs]

Amazing job on Nol's power sword! :tu:

[Balthamal]

Ok you've successfully shamed me into getting my act together now. Subbed

[Memento Of Prospero]

The apothecary is great, would like to see smaller runes gravitate around the larger ones ;)

[Flint13]

@ Dantay - Thanks man! I picked runes from across five or six different sources, and a couple are just doodles I made up.

 

Glad to hear the story bits are working :D

 

@ Kizzdougs - Thanks! I tried a new way of painting them, using just glazes over white. It worked way better than I thought it would.

 

@ Balth - Haha, excellent. The more Heresy, the merrier.

 

@ Wolf_Pack - I can manage that!

[Flint13]

“Woe be to those who stand before the Vipers in enmity, for their skies will bleed with the ashes of their greatest warriors.”

 

4.711.006.M31 -  413th Cohort Heavy Cruiser, War Child

 

++++++

 

Tolev scrolled through the data slate in her hand as she followed Commander Kalder and her life-wards through the arming deck of the War Child. The troop bay was massive, running the entire length of the front half of the heavy cruiser. Every square meter was packed with Auxilia of Cohort 413. Dozens of squads milled around their transports, performing final arming and equipment checks.

 

The adjutant’s eyes blinked rapidly as she strode behind the Legatina, her cortical implants absorbing and processing the scrawl of information. She leaned forward and shouted to be heard over the clamor of the bay.

 

“Legatina, Commander Khol reports a successful drop with the heavy armor elements. Captain Hadrianna verifies successful artillery entrenchment as well.”

 

Kalder glanced backwards over her shoulder, “the XVII legion vessel?”

 

Tolev only needed a fractal second to access the ship’s tactical disposition. “The Red Apostate still holds geo-sync in the Northern Hemisphere. Chaplain Kul sends word that he is ready to drop on your command.”

 

“Good. We’ll need them as the XIII begin to commit. I’m sure Voh Hadrun won’t mind reaching the Ultramarines before his brothers,” Kalder’s gaze drifted over to the hulking forms of almost two dozen Word Bearers to her left. The Astartes were a bastion of calm in the tumult of the arming bay. They sat serenely outside two Rhino armored carriers, prayer strips nailed to their warplate gently waving in the recirculated air currents of the ship’s hold. Veteran Sergeant Hadrun was seated on the running board of the nearest APC. Kalder saw the blue lenses of his war helm as they rose from the field stripped boltgun spread at his feet to track her across the hold. His right fist rapped lightly against his left pauldron in salute as she passed.

 

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Adjutant Tolev tucked the data slate into a thigh pouch as the Legatina reached her command vehicle. With one hand on the track guard, Kalder heaved herself on top of the Dracosan. The noise slowly died as the Auxilia came to a halt, their collective gaze pinned to the Commander. Even the Astartes stood, looming head, shoulders and chest above the soldiers of the 413th as they looked on impassively.

 

http://imagizer.imageshack.us/v2/800x600q90/903/bhnaBa.jpg

 

Kalder looked out over her cohort. Her warriors.

 

Fang Thief, Head Hunter, Spine Taker, her gaze fell across each squad in turn, more than two dozen in all. Each of them had their deployment orders and knew the nature of the foe that awaited them. Each stood ready to fall on the Ultramarine bastion world of Bathory Prime. They needed no more orders from her. 

 

With a heavy toss, Kalder’s first life-ward hefted a broad bladed axe into her waiting hand. This was not the weighted practice blade she wielded in the training cages, but a saw-toothed bard axe, designed to cleave an armored man in two, to hew adamantite like cord wood.

 

Her smile was a savage snarl as she raised the weapon above her head.

 

"My Vipers!" her voice echoed from the bay's internal vox-hail system in a rolling baritone, "Fall on them like death itself. Leave them nothing but ash."

 

“Woe Be!” They roared in response as three hundred fists struck armored plastrons.

 

http://imagizer.imageshack.us/v2/xq90/911/67cqSS.jpg

~ XVII Legion Veteran, Voh Hadrun with Foe Hunter squad and APC Defensor Fidelium

[Kriegsmacht]

Word Bearers look great. I like the red and black combo.

[Knight of the Raven]

This is the first time I see Word Bearers with anything blue. It looks weird to me.

 

I like the solar auxilia.

[Daemon2027]

I'm not generally a fan of metallic schemes but the red does look really good.

[Pearson73]

The runes on the dozer blade are looking good, they contrast well with the red.

[Flint13]

4.768.006.M31 - Surface of Bathory Prime

 

++++++

 

Some Astartes could not remember the time before their ascension. Some could remember bitter fragments of childhood, a broken mosaic of shattered glimpses into their past life.

 

 

Kharahem Sul could remember everything. He remembered blood splashing across his face, of the bone handled axe burning hot in his grasp. He could recall the war hymns of his most vaunted warriors as they swept his enemies before them in a tide of death and glory, their immortal cries shaking the earth of the jungles. It was meant to be him. He was the last of the bloodline of the Sovereigns of the cradle world. He had bound tribes of the southern reaches to his banners, he was the last; the last of the great God-Kings of Colchis. It was meant to be him. He was meant to stride the battlefield as a deity of blood and thunder, to make the earth quake with the weight of his divinity.

 

“We are near,” Zar An’karian’s bass rumble broke through the gripping blackness. Sul shook his head, slowly returning from the depths of the regenerative meditation. He looked up, brow furrowed within the confines of his warhelm.

 

“My thanks, Brother,” even through the inter-squad vox, the words were barely audible over the Thunderhawk’s engines as they shifted to a low throb, “Zar… the visions. I think they are returning.”
An’karian glanced sideways as he stood to his full height. He shrugged his massive shoulders, the arming device of his autocannon chattering as it cycled to active and began to send ammunition along the weapons’ belt feeds. The deck reverberated slightly under the armored tread of the Word Bearer as he approached.

 

“The medicae was wrong then. They do not fade with time?” An’karian asked as he moved past to the rear of the transport bay.

 

“They told me this could happen,” Kharahem Sul’s armor servos whined as he stood and moved to join his brother. The overhead lighting flashed twice in succession, an indicator the gunship was on final approach. The howl of low atmospheric winds rushed by the pair as the rear bay doors split wide, opening to the bright morning light on Bathory Prime.

 

“Aye. They say all adapt to the trauma differently,” An’Karian’s voice barked within Sul’s helm, amplified to be heard over the blasting winds. Kharahem glanced down as he flexed the digits of his powerfist. They responded to the impulse and flashed briefly with a flare of blue energy. Whatever reply he had was drowned by the Thunderhawk transporter’s internal vox-hailer.

 

“Honored brothers, ten seconds to drop,” the pilot’s comm-distorted rasp crackled through the cargo bay.
Sul glanced up to the indicator lights of the drop doors as they changed from red to amber.

 

“Close enough.”

 

 

++++++

 

 

 

Fire rained down upon the hull of Little Thunderer from the Bathorian Janissar regiment, entrenched into their elevated position atop the nearby cliff. Hard rounds pinged and ricocheted from the armor plating, where the occasional heavier slug and lasbolt caused the carrier’s flare shield to flash and spit with reflective energies.

 

 

“I’ve got nothing on any of our bands! The damned militia siege elements should have been here!”

 

 

Stratega-Primus  Mckaeyla Vohr shouted to her First Sergeant, Ha’Dhan, as they sheltered behind the mud guard of Thunderer, leaning forward to snap shots from the bastion of the tank’s armor plate. His bemused shrug made her grimace. Her view stretched along the line of militia light vehicles stretching in either direction along the base of the rise. The Bathorian rebels had already been repelled from the wall three times before she and a small Auxilia detachment had been dispatched to assist, along with heavier bombardment elements from the militia reserves.

 

“And the rut is that ‘Hawk doing? ” She waved a hand at a low burning Astartes warbird that shook the entire line of armored vehicles as it swept low. The Bathorian fortress had already started to realign its light anti-aircraft weapons to throw flak munitions skyward.

 

 

http://imagizer.imageshack.us/v2/xq90/903/pm0snk.jpg

http://imagizer.imageshack.us/v2/xq90/911/wG8S7r.jpg

 

 

Kharahem Sul struck the plascrete of the bastion’s exterior courtyard hard enough to splinter it in twenty meters in every direction. The dreadnought rose to its full height, auto-targetters sweeping the top of the wall. Ten meters to his right, Zar An’Karian’s own landing sent debris spinning off from his own impact crater.

 

 

“Brother, high right,” the plasma gun contained in Sul’s left fist was already spitting white hot bolts into a heavy cannon mounted into the bastion’s wall.

 

“I’ve got them,” An’karian’s carapace mounted launcher was firing a chain of light missiles into the garrison forces behind the wall just as the heavy bolters of his lower carapace started firing. Locking stabilizers hammering into place, the heavy quad autocannons opened up, raking the top walls of the bastions with hundreds of heavy caliber shells. The torrent wiped the fortress facing clean of Janissars, cutting the return fire to nothing.

 

http://imagizer.imageshack.us/v2/xq90/910/bIFRGl.jpg
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Kharahem Sul turned as an armored Dracosan transport growled past him, tracks spinning furiously up the slope. A small mortal crewed the top mounted multilaser. It gestured at him as he heard the crackle of an incoming short-band vox cast inside his helm.

 

“Honored, we weren’t expecting you, but we appreciate this. It’s difficult to take a bastion with a single siege gun,” Strategos Vohr drummed a fist on the top hull of Little Thunderer to punctuate. Even now, the lighter militia APCs were disembarking their regiments to start another trek up the bastion’s defensive embankment.

 

Sul glanced sideways at An’karian, bemused. His Brother tipped a single barrel minutely, an Ancient Arkus' version of a shrug. Kharahem turned back before responding, “It is… our function, mortal. We require no thanks.”

 

Vohr snorted, “Either way, Word Bearer, this bastion dies. With you and your brother, however, it’ll be far less of us and far more of them dying.”

 

The remains of flesh stretched across the skull of what remained of Kharahem Sul split in a smile, deep within the depths of his amniotic casket. This. This he understood.

 

“Aye, little sister. We shall break this bastion like a sinner’s spine," the smile turned to a rictus of a snarl as he turned back towards the fortress walls, "It has been far too long since the Ancients of the Rending Void have made war.”

 

 

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