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Unforgiven, ETL V will soon be upon us!

Captain Semper

By Captain Semper
in + DARK ANGELS +

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elmo Venerable Brother

elmo

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I have been away from The Rock for long enough plus I need to paint up the 3rd Company at sometime ;)

 

No vehicles this time though - just troops and perhaps Ravenwing.

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Olis Venerable Brother

Olis

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Nice try phantom of the past. Chaos is our business and will be dealt the Dark Angels' way! You had it easy, you had the Emperor and the Primarchs to lead and tell you right from wrong. Now it is only the darkness of the grim dark future! And in the darkness it is the Inner Circle that shows the way!

 

Playing hard to get, eh? :lol:

 

Joking aside, good luck to you and your fellow Dark Angels, Captain.

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Captain Semper Venerable Brother

Captain Semper

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Quick question semper, one of the minis I'm planning on pledging is a contemptor but it's going to be a counts as vendread in my army. For points value, will he count as a contemptor or vendread?

Well, we are looking for as wysiwyg as possible. I'd say Contemptor.

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Lostrael Veteran

Lostrael

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@ Captain Semper
"Are you ready to deliver vengeance on the Traitor and the weak?"
Just a question on political correctness of a humble Apothecary... Should we not protect the weak? huh.png

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Olis Venerable Brother

Olis

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Just a question on political correctness of a humble Apothecary... Should we not protect the weak? huh.png

Come now brother, you're not a Salamander are you? :lol:

Don't forget Marines are technically psychopaths. The Marines Malevolent got it right: Trample the Weak, Hurdle the Dead. (An old Hyaenidae thread was added for spice.) Protecting the weak is not a part of the brief. ;)

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Lostrael Veteran

Lostrael

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Just a question on political correctness of a humble Apothecary... Should we not protect the weak? huh.png

Come now brother, you're not a Salamander are you? laugh.png

Don't forget Marines are technically psychopaths. The Marines Malevolent got it right: Trample the Weak, Hurdle the Dead. (An old Hyaenidae thread was added for spice.) Protecting the weak is not a part of the brief. msn-wink.gif

Right, I'll not be gentle to those that oppose me. devil.gif
Though I have to admit that the green I'm using for my troops is not as dark as it could be.
"...With the Key of Caliban, to bear witness for my brothers-in-arms, I take up the mantle of the charitable, the wise and the strong.
With the Key of Caliban, as my brothers-in-arms bear witness for me, I take up the burden of the hopeless, the ignorant and the weak..."
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Olis Venerable Brother

Olis

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Aha, a quote...

 

"...With the Key of Caliban, to bear witness for my brothers-in-arms, I take up the mantle of the charitable, the wise and the strong. 

With the Key of Caliban, as my brothers-in-arms bear witness for me, I take up the burden of the hopeless, the ignorant and the weak..."

 

Taking up their burden, fair enough. Protecting them, not mentioned. ;)

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Punk possum Veteran

Punk possum

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Well 3years ago I was batting for chaos with my Nightlords but I did make a personal hobby vow to complete a full battle company before the years end so I'll be throwing my hat in the ring with my Angels of Vengeance.

"We shall not back down. We are the inheritors of the mantle, we bear the shame though we will never be bowed by it. They shall dub us unforgiven but we shall overcome no matter the cost." company master Ramiel 3rd coy to the inner circle of the Angels of Vengeance before the Vistulan cluster campaign.  

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Captain Semper Venerable Brother

Captain Semper

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Just a question on political correctness of a humble Apothecary... Should we not protect the weak? :huh:

 

 

Come now brother, you're not a Salamander are you? :lol:

 

Don't forget Marines are technically psychopaths. The Marines Malevolent got it right: Trample the Weak, Hurdle the Dead. (An old Hyaenidae thread was added for spice.) Protecting the weak is not a part of the brief. ;)

 

Right, I'll not be gentle to those that oppose me. :devil:

Though I have to admit that the green I'm using for my troops is not as dark as it could be.

 

"...With the Key of Caliban, to bear witness for my brothers-in-arms, I take up the mantle of the charitable, the wise and the strong. 

With the Key of Caliban, as my brothers-in-arms bear witness for me, I take up the burden of the hopeless, the ignorant and the weak..."

Nestor vs. Boreas, give me Nestor every time! :lol:

 

We only protect our secrets - the rest are just collateral... Also I couldn't think of a better word to collectively describe all the other chapters plus the armies of humanity... :D

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Spaced Hulk Battle-Brother

Spaced Hulk

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For the first time in his extensive, eidetic memory, the visitor found the Fenspire's throne room to be curiously silent. As expected, no Praetorian guarded the great double doors, as their predecessors had been slain and replacements were yet to be appointed. Nor were any advisers or Company Captains present to vie for their new Master's attention. The surviving members of the Council were already fully occupied, each one striving to rebuild their shattered Chapter, to return it to some semblance of order and effectiveness. And so Reynard Crom, former Chief Librarian of the Sword Bearers, approached the Black Throne both unopposed and unhindered.


As usual, it was oppressively dark within the chamber. The throne room occupied the highest point of the Sword Bearer's fortress monastery, an artificial cavern carved from the solid granite of the mountain's tallest peak. An immense stained-glass window formed the entire outer wall of the circular chamber, crafted from six inch thick arma-glass and displaying a multitude of glorious images taken from the Chapter's earliest history. At this altitude, Crom knew he was well above the layers of perpetual cloud that shrouded the planet's surface, and so light, pure and unobstructed, should have been flooding through the viewport, filling the throne room with a bright, radiant beauty.


Despite this, no sunlight had ever penetrated this inner sanctum. Beyond the stained glass, adamantium blast shields were permanently raised into position, blocking the sun's rays as they had done for millenia. It was a decision made by the very first Grand Master of the Sword Bearers, and one that each of his successors had since abided by. The Lord of Mire would always share the same darkness, the same eternal, tenebrous twilight as his subjects. It was a promising sign, Crom mused, that his new Chapter Master had chosen to honour this ancient tradition.


Hundreds of candles provided the only form of illumination within the chamber, their flames flickering in the breeze caused by his passing. Shadows danced eerily across the wall and floor as he moved towards the central dais, as though the spectres of the honoured dead had followed him to observe this meeting. The Fenspire was an ancient fortress, it's labyrinthine interior infused with thousands of years of memories. If the ghosts of their ancestors did still wander the cold stone halls and passageways, Crom would not have been at all surprised.


He halted in front of the throne, dropping awkwardly to one knee in obeisance. Like all his brothers, he had not survived the recent battles unscathed. Physically, the damage was uncomfortable but healing well, the intrinsic benefits of his trans-human physiology. The scars, however, would remain with Crom until his dying day. Before the Phormian Campaign, his brother's had sometimes described him as the Faceless, a reference to his innate, shape shifting abilities. That gift was gone now, ripped from his mind just as surely as the flesh had been ripped from his body. The former nickname had become fact, as extreme facial injuries had permanently destroyed his natural visage. With his weakened psychic ability, he could no longer use glamours to disguise his appearance, and so bandages and a heavy cowl alone now hid his ruined features.


“Rise, brother.” The voice that emanated from the throne was low and deep, the bass growl of a predator stalking it's prey. It was a voice well accustomed to authority, one used to being obeyed. Despite his relative youth, Crom remembered, there had been no objections to the new Chapter Master's inauguration. Amongst the proud and honour bound brethren of the Sword Bearers, such widespread approval was unusual.


“Thank you, my Lord.” The Librarian answered as he rose, unsteadily, to his feet. His own voice was a shrill whisper, his damaged vocal cords yet another memento of the recent conflict. For the first time since entering the chamber, Crom raised his head, looking up respectfully at the Black Throne and it's occupant.


Ivan Orbec, once Captain of the Third Battle Company, now Grand Master of the Sword Bearers, sat comfortably upon the great obsidian throne. The new Lord of Mire was fully armoured, save for the hood which covered his head, shrouding his face in shadow. Behind the throne, three diminutive robed figures stood motionless, each one clasping a relic of the Chapter to their chest. One bore the Mask of Judgement, the ancient Mark 2 battle helm worn by every Grand Master, whilst the other two each carried a power sword, the paired relic blades that gave the Chapter their name.


“How fair thee brother?” The Grand Master spoke once more, “Do your injuries heal?”.


“Yes my Lord, although not as quickly as I would wish” The Librarian answered quickly, surprised by the question. As Third Captain, Orbec had displayed many fine qualities, but empathy had never been one of them. It was possible, Crom realised, that the responsibilities of his new position had already tempered his natural arrogance.


“And your abilities?...” Orbec softly asked.


“Regretfully not, my Lord.” The Librarian shook his cowled head, the sadness evident even through his tortured speech. “The apothecaries however remain optimistic. It is possible that there may still yet be some improvement.”


“You are a fine warrior Reynard,” Orbec spoke louder, the hard edge of authority returning to his voice in an instant. “Even without your gifts, you will continue to serve the Chapter well. I am sure both you and the Librarium will quickly come to the right decision regarding your future path.”


“Yes my Lord.” Crom sighed, surprised by the subtlety of the Chapter Master's words, even if not by their intent. He had realised long before this that his role as Chief Librarian was effectively over. He decided to change the subject. “How do you find the demands of your new office, Sire.”


This time it was Orbec who sighed, although there was still the slight, familiar chuckle as he answered. “I am the commander of a shattered army, the Lord of a riven domain. I must admit, old friend, that this was not the glorious homecoming that I had hoped for. Nevertheless, as a wise tutor once told me, although the past shapes our present, we must always remember to craft our own future.”


Crom recognised his own words and laughed out loud, a shrill cackle bursting from his ruined throat. “I had not realised you had been so attentive of my teachings, Lord Orbec!”


“I remember every word, old friend.” The Chapter Master suddenly leant forward on his throne. “But now I suspect that you have more bad news to tell me.”


“I'm afraid so my Lord. The astropaths have received a long range message from the west, emanating originally from the Segmentum Obscurus. It is a summons, transmitted by the Tower of Angels itself, requesting assistance from all of the Lion's Sons, no matter where their paths have taken them.”


“On what grounds?” Orbec demanded, “What could have befallen the First to request such immense reinforcement? The Unforgiven were divided in order to spread our strength and our reach, to take the Hunt to the most distant corners of the galaxy. To combine our force once more is contrary to everything we have been taught.”


“I am not sure, my Lord, but the portents we have deciphered are terrible indeed. Allies are becoming the direst of enemies, and the ghosts of the past emerge from the void, desperate to make amends for their past failures. Worst still, the Great Eye is opening, spilling the foulest traitors and daemons into the mortal realms once more, seeking their final victory.” Crom paused for a moment, letting the magnitude of his words sink in. “What will you do?”


For a moment, the throne room was completely silent. The former Chief Librarian stared into the shadows of the Grand Masters cowl, searching for his reaction.


Abruptly Orbec stood, his armour gleaming in the candlelight, his voice proud and clear. “Although our blades are dulled, they are never broken. Our colours may be faded, but our duty remains manifest.” He reached out to the three Watchers behind the throne, donning his battle helm in a single, smooth movement, then grasped both of the ancient relic blades.


“The Inner Circle calls, and the Sword Bearers will answer.”


* * *


Or in other words, count me in. smile.png

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Olis Venerable Brother

Olis

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*snip*
* * *
Or in other words, count me in. smile.png

You know, there are others who would be infinitely more succinct in their replies to the rallying call - and I would not care. I enjoyed reading that. :tu:

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