'May You Live Forever' – A Company of Bitter Iron

[bluntblade]

Will he be Sagyar Mazan, or simply an outrider who got separated from his own Legion?

[apologist]

It's a bit up in the air at the moment. I very much want to try to build Hibou Khan as he appears on the cover of [sCRAPSHUNTERRORABORT MEMBANKCASCADEFAIL], but I'd also like some more traditional White Scars. I'd very appreciate your thoughts and input.

[bluntblade]

Grey Talon?

 

Well, given that the Scars split up, often to fight as individual brotherhoods of varying size, it's entirely possible that one might be broken and unable to rejoin their fellows. Others were elsewhere at the time of Chondax, and could have been set upon by traitor forces without knowing who had committed, or made their choice before the Khan made his.

 

I like the latter idea best, with the Iron Hands harbouring some vague, preemptive disgust. That could extend to the Scars' hopes of reuniting with their gene-sire.

[Olis]

I concur with Tyrannicide. It's good to witness the methods to your madness, Apologist. :tu:

[bluntblade]

I don't know about you, Apologist, but I'm warming to the idea of a stray Brotherhood. "The Khagan always bade us go our own way, cousin. It is in the very core of the Fifth Legion. Where we are, that is the center. So these worlds, this war, beside you, Iron Hand, I call this the center."

 

And of course, Brotherhood of the... What?

[Thousand Eyes]

Great work Apologist, I do love your work.

 

 

By the Great Khans magnificent moustache, all the Heavens adore this Path you have embarked upon!

 

That is just a stunning quote though!

[Brother Pheidias]

Great work Apologist, I do love your work.

 

 

By the Great Khans magnificent moustache, all the Heavens adore this Path you have embarked upon!

 

That is just a stunning quote though!

Can't help it, Apologist brings it out in me :p

[apologist]

 

'Rest? We were not made to rest; we go on, unflinching, unstoppable, unending in our strength. The Emperor did not make us for such mortal concerns as hearth and home, vanity or contemplation; we are his engines of war, his hammers, beating out the fabric of existence into a vessel fit for Mankind to inhabit.'

attr. the Primarch Ferrus Manus in The Shadow of the Gorgon, by Czel Atternas

 

Turn the eyes outward.

 

That is the only direction for peace.

 

Even then, it is only the cold comfort of stars – and one could easily find himself lost in those. Staring out from the Nereid, my thoughts wandered to a lecture on void warfare strategy that Legion Master DuCaine had given, not long after Ferrus Manus had been found. It had been intended as an honour, a demonstration that the worthy once-leader remained vital, remained a part of the Legion now he had been sidelined by the Primarch, his superior in every respect.

 

The lecture was simple. Childishly simple. 'Look between the stars. That is where the enemy will reveal himself.' he had begun. 

 

It was the lesson of a Terran, advice borne from experience in spotting the enemy up-close; from a man born and raised with his feet rooted firmly on soil. We had waited for him to expound upon this, to reveal some insightful twist that applied such advice to the complex multi-dimensional warfare of space.

 

He had demurred. His lecture was close-sighted; the tale of a man slightly out-of-time and out-of-step with the movements of the Imperium, but who was allowed leeway for his capability elsewhere. 

 

'The void is – famously – immobile to the eye of man. All the wheeling of the spheres happens across vast timescales; any apparent movement of the stars can be owed to atmosphere.'

 

As he went on, and it became gradually more clear that his lessons were embarrassingly shallow, I looked about at the impassive but unimpressed war-leaders and specialists ranged about, gathered out of respect to hear their sidelined Legion Master once more. Not one showed a flicker of approval or contempt; which to me seemed all the more damning. I had cringed inwardly.

 

Of course, who was I – who am I – to judge the Legion Master?

 

As I looked out over the blank starfields of this backwater void, I mused on his words. They had, after all, come in useful on occasion. Though he had no fondness of me – in truth, I doubt I registered on him beyond our shared homeworld heritage – I had a certain regard for him, above and beyond by dutiful obedience. Piloting shuttles relied mainly on instrumentation, but the mark I eyeball – or at least, my occulobe-enhanced base biology, I reminded myself – was still reliable for those occasions when instruments were out or needed to be damped.

 

On this occasion, his simplistic advice may have saved our lives. It was purely because I was looking outwards, lost in thought, that I did catch something moving. A wrinkle; a twitch.

 

'The void is – famously – immobile to the eye of man.'

 

I raced down the black wood of the stairway, barking at the Dead Reckoner to confirm our location while pointing a steelshod finger at the navigatrix to hold her attention. Her already star-pale skin blanched further, her eyes wide. The Watchmaster, to his credit, did not bluster or demand an explanation. Without seconds, the ship was wheeling about, its movement shown through the shadows and highlights on the glittering dragon-prow.

 

The Immortal, however, did his duty; barging me to the floor with his shield and pinning me to the deck with a heavy mag-enhanced stomp, his blaster aimed levelly at my bare head.

 

'Explanation, Brevet-Lieutenant.'

 

His words were seemingly without rancour, but I was a better reader of men than most of my brethren. There was more than surliness behind that blank mask; more than the over-literal and bullying application of his role as bridge guardian. On a more personal level, he didn't like me.

 

I guess not even the retreat from Isstvan was going to weld us all together.

 

+++

The Medusan Immortals

Owing (I suspect) a great deal of inspiration to the Spartans, one of the Iron Hands' special units is the Medusan Immortals, a band of dishonoured warriors who throw themselves into the most desperate fights as 'forlorn hope' troops. I like the imagery, and the concept is at the heart of this project : offering an alternative answer to the question 'how do the Iron Hands react to the death of Ferrus Manus?'

 

The narrator, a born survivor, answers that by burying and refusing to confront facts; Medardus with contemplation and withdrawal. The Immortal, already dishonoured and ashamed, finds a sour glee in the belief that all of his Legion are now fundamentally as damned as he is. After all, the Immortal corps is intended to offer a slim hope of redemption – but what purpose does it serve if the judge is dead?

 

 

The paint scheme is nigh-identical to that for the rest of the force – a tutorial can be found on Death of a Rubricist here – though I'm not so happy with the application here; I went overboard with the weathering and smeared a flattening grey-brown over the subtler highlights. Not everything goes to plan!

 

 

The main difference is in the lack of honour marking and Legion detailing, for background reasons: his Clan markings have been replaced with the large X (neatly, the Tenth Legion's numeral also represents a crossing-out or negation), and his boarding shield is devoid of ornamentation beyond the massive slab of the Legion symbol. This leads the model to being even more muted than the rest of the force, only his volkite charger and eyes being picked out in grey-white.

 

The grey scheme extends to the shield's inside screen – predictably, as the part of the model of which I'm most proud, this is, annoyingly, the least visible!

 

 

The conversion was a minor variant of my usual Astartes conversions; using a torso plate from Games Workshop's Kataphron Servitors – kindly donated by my chum Lucifer216 – and a backpack from Forge World's Mark III techmarine. I was lucky enough to grab three of these in a second-hand bundle, so I'll be able to keep a little uniformity to any future Medusan Immortals I make for the force.

 

I deliberately avoided using loads of bionics. I like the idea that Iron Hands in 30k go some way to cladding their bionics in power armour plate to further drive out and hide weakness. While I have used a few here and there, most bionics added before Isstvan are sufficiently advanced augmetics that they can be hidden. This enables me to show later injuries with bionics, as the resource-poor survivors are forced to make do with lesser equipment (e.g. on the narrator himself).

 

This also leaves me with crude bionics available as a visual identifer for my Iron Warriors...

[apologist]

Grey Talon?

 

Well, given that the Scars split up, often to fight as individual brotherhoods of varying size, it's entirely possible that one might be broken and unable to rejoin their fellows. Others were elsewhere at the time of Chondax, and could have been set upon by traitor forces without knowing who had committed, or made their choice before the Khan made his.

 

I like the latter idea best, with the Iron Hands harbouring some vague, preemptive disgust. That could extend to the Scars' hopes of reuniting with their gene-sire.

[...]

I don't know about you, Apologist, but I'm warming to the idea of a stray Brotherhood. "The Khagan always bade us go our own way, cousin. It is in the very core of the Fifth Legion. Where we are, that is the center. So these worlds, this war, beside you, Iron Hand, I call this the center."

And of course, Brotherhood of the... What?

 

Grey Talon, that's the one – cheers Bluntblade. Thanks for your ideas on the Scars, too – food for thought :)

The Brotherhood'll be named the Brotherhood of the Nine Winds. I'm looking forward to working on some more of them.

 

 

I concur with Tyrannicide. It's good to witness the methods to your madness, Apologist.

 

Great; I'm never quite sure whether I'm writing too much; I don't want to teach granny to suck eggs! If it's interesting to you, I'll keep posting up my burblings :)

 

 

Great work Apologist, I do love your work.

 

By the Great Khans magnificent moustache, all the Heavens adore this Path you have embarked upon!

 

That is just a stunning quote though!

Can't help it, Apologist brings it out in me

 

Ha! Brilliant phrase :D

[Luna707]

"...but what purpose does it serve if the judge is dead?" Intriguing sentiment, makes me like the Immortals even more than I already do. Beautiful update as usual!

[apologist]

http://i.imgur.com/E9Ztty9.jpg

I set Tithonus up against a new Primaris marine. As you can see, they're very similar in height, which is great – I feel pleased that my existing armies are going to look just right alongside other people's now. In fact, the only real differences in the silhouette come from the breadth of the chest and arms, and the size of the pauldrons.

[Commissar Molotov]

Awesome stuff... I'm still waiting to get my hands on some of the Primaris. Your Blood Angel plans sound interesting indeed! 

 

Does this mean an end to the Apologist-pattern?

[apologist]

Awesome stuff... I'm still waiting to get my hands on some of the Primaris. Your Blood Angel plans sound interesting indeed! 

 

Does this mean an end to the Apologist-pattern?

 

Well, I'd hesitate to call my stuff Apologist-pattern, but in any case, it'll stick around. I like the heaviness and bulk of the upper torso and shoulders. Keep your eyes peeled for slightly-altered Primaris in an M34/35-period project, though...

[Isengrin]

If you do Nova Terra Interregnum before me I'll have to strangle you.

 

Just kidding. Kinda...

[malika666]

Hmm...still feel your conversions look nicer! The Primaris models might make your endeavour a lot easier and cheaper. They just need your style of bulking up!

[apologist]

The meditation is carved into the lintel above the door: mors notat finem debitum. Old High Gothic. I had heard the phrase before; or at least some variant of it, murmured by everyone from tired soldiers to surly docksmen.

 

The Legion serfs didn't say it. They knew just how sharp our ears were.

 

I thought that whoever had added it here had missed the point. It was gallows humour; a catch-all something to mutter to indicate a general malaise or displeasure with a task you thought was tedious. Carved and monolithic, it became melodramatic; almost ridiculous.

 

"A bit on-the-nose, eh, brathairs?" 

 

Henricos either didn't understand my thin joke, or simply didn't want to dignify it with a response. Although Dawasrung shifted his posture, he too remained silent beyond a quiet grunt of false amusement. The White Scar seemed on-edge. He had been shifting his weight from foot to foot more often than usual. Only the Salamander smiled.

 

As we waited for the pressure to even out and the portal to cycle open, I pondered. Had the legend had been here since the ship's creation? Had it been added at the request of the Legion? Had some grumbling factotum taken it upon himself to immortalise his complaints in stone? Had some shipwright ordered it as a private joke, poking fun at the Legion's oh-so-serious mien, to be laughed about over an amasec?

 

If the latter, that was either brave or idiotic. The Iron Hands might be straightforward, but a sniff of perceived insult would have proven fatal. Eventually, I shrugged. Perhaps I was reading more than was intended. I am a soldier of the Tenth Legion, not a sophist of Macragge. Sincere or sarcastic, it was simply there now.

 

Still... here, in the hidden depths of a Xth Legion strike cruiser; here especially, above the portal to the lair of the Dreadnought Talons, I felt the phrase was particularly inappropriate. 

 

Only in Death Does Duty End. 

 

+++

 

[Luna707]

Glorious :)

[Brother Pheidias]

That is one old piece of lead you've got there. Love it!

[Soldier of Dorn]

Beautiful. Just beautiful. A relic of a lost age of Imperial glory in more ways than one.

[apologist]

Thanks, frater; although I'm now erring more towards this chap joining the Iron Warriors of Officio Monstrosa. Don't fear, though; at least some sort of heroic ironform of the Tenth will pop up. Reading back through the blog, I don't think I ever posted up the finished Dawasrung here, did I? Must rectify that soon.

[bluntblade]

Brutal head there :)

[Isengrin]

(...) Reading back through the blog, I don't think I ever posted up the finished Dawasrung here, did I?

You did not. 

 

That dreadnought's head gives off a certain Iron Warriors vibe, so him switching legions makes sense. The promise of another war-machine is very enticing.

[apologist]

An interlude to show this blog is ongoing – please don't archive it just yet, thanks :)

 

+++

 

+ Legionary Dawasrung + 

 

 

A member of the Brotherhood of the Nine Winds, Legionary Dawasrung deployed on Dwell under the command of the Iron Hand Bion Henricos – himself a lieutenant of Shadrak Meduson – against the Sons of Horus. Henricos' force was made up mainly of Army regiments, though he could deploy a significant force of Astartes from a number of Legions; notably the Salamanders, White Scars, and Raven Guard, though the bulk were Tenth Legion. Dawasrung was involved in the attack on 'Little' Horus Aximand, part of an ambushing force led by the Sagyar Mazan Hibou Khan. 

 

Not a member of that penitent group himself, Dawasrung held certain reservations about being led by Hibou; but was pragmatic enough to recognise the necessity of subsuming such hesitation. His armour thus remains unmarked by the distinctive calligraphic script of the Sagyar Mazan. 

 

The symbol on his banded left pauldron is a brotherhood mark – roughly equivalent to a Chapter numeral. This example simply means '9'; a reference to the Nine Winds after which the Brotherhood is named. In this, the Brotherhood is unusually prosaic for the Vth Legion: the style is conventionally Terran. 

 

Less conventional is the blade, charged with power. An example of the White Scars' wilful non-conformism, examples of the curved blade he carries are difficult to pinpoint to a single forge world owing to their non-standard nature. They are likely part of a shipment favoured by the Brotherhood of the Nine Winds – who became infamous for 'intercepting' shipments rather than communicating with their supply lines. 

 

Besides the Brotherhood symbol, Dawasrung bears a squad pictograph (on the fore of his right pauldron), but scant few other markings. Of these, the broad vertical stripe on his knee – a symbol of his unwillingness to kneel – marks homage only to his Brotherhood Khan. His right bracer has the distinctive red dagged decoration common to the 5th. This is likely a personal detail, added as much for aesthetics as any specific action or philosophy. His ostentatious belt buckle – a common location for the Vth Legion to mark out heroism – shows a lightning strike in imitation of the Legion symbol; another common mark of honour.

[Pearson73]

Really liking the pose of Dawasrung.

[Brother Pheidias]

I am still utterly smitten with Dawasrung.

Great posing, great painting, great prose.