A War Forgotten-Tales of Unification(Terran Magos)

[Dagoth Ur]

Those Unremembered

 

 

 

I bleed in heart and mind.

I see my dead brethren when I sleep.

Find peace, they say. But how?

I give all, for I must.

I bleed for Him, for I have no choice.

There are no gods and demons on Terra.

Only Masters and Slaves.

 

-Reaver-Lord Ivan The Ruinwalker Atenović, Commander of the Krvavi 2^nd

 

 

 

We've been marching through this hive for weeks. Zyricha I believe it was called. Must've been beautiful in its prime. I can almost see the tall, spindly glass spires amongst these ruins. That is past now. Pity, but such is the course of things. We all have passed our prime, Mankind I mean. Marching through rubble and blackened glass, I mull over such things. My men don't know that, naturally. All they see is a tough-as-dirt bastard that smacks them in the gabber if they muck up. Weird.

Zyricha used to be a centre of alchemantric research, a beacon of knowledge and science. Then the panslavic tribes came. I chuckle. We came, to be precise. We, the Y'g Slavic marauders of Sr'ba and the Balk'n. Legends speak of great wars and rivers of blood, of heroism and valiance. Lies. I look at my men, I look at myself and I laugh. We, draped in hard iron and brass, white of bones and red of blood, are barbarians. My machete rarely leaves my hand, be it in council or in war. I, we are warriors first and foremost. The Vračar, the Witchers, the Sellswords. Many names for the same people. My men, the 3rd, are the Krvavi, meaning the bloody in our ancient tongue. We've come a long way. Not just space, but time. As far as I know we've existed since before Long Night. We'll we must've if it was us that raided this hive and according to Him, we were.

He. The Emperor. He gave us very clear instructions. Locate, retrieve and do not, under any circumstances, open the cache. Old alchemyks, I presume. Probably a new pet project of his, some new post-human monstrosity. Funny, how it is easy denouncing them as monsters, even though I am no different. I can feel the haemo-chymiks in my veins, the constantly hissing singe in my chest as they slowly corrode my valves. The faintly crystalline bursting of fresh cells as my body regenerates. A perpetual cycle of living and dying, yet being neither truly alive nor dead. I remember precious little of the time when I was reshaped into a Vračar. A child I was, I believe. Certainly not older than eight standard cycles. It was painful, that I know. I can still hear it in my sleep, my screams.

 

We rest.

 

I look around the small encampment and shudder. People fear me and my men already, but if they only knew what I was looking at right now. A true monstrum fashioned out of burgeoning flesh and iron bones. He, no it, is taller than even the Thunderwarriors, though not as bulky. Indeed, its height makes it appear almost lanky. The biceps is still broader than my head, though. The Terrawatt warriors. Technobarbarians of the highest pedigree. Three acompany us; Ando, Byril and Vasili. The first and the last one are out of my sight, but Byril sits across my firepit and is meditating. Fascinating. So rough in shape, so brutal, and yet there is this tranquilty written across his face that makes you belive he could never comit violent acts.

Oh how wrong that was. I saw him in battle. Byril was a storm. He swung his twohanded chainaxe around like a child might do with a twig. Wherever it struck, a shower of gore and sparks followed. A perfect example of Terrawatt weaponry; brutal, yet efficient, simple, yet elaborate. It appeared like so many chainweapons and yet it sported everything from pseudo-perpetuum-mobile generator to tempestomantic projector.

Whenever I look at him, I always remark on how profane we all are. How profane this world is, in fact. We are all godless creatures born of alchemyks and forbidden biomagyks.

Then again, mankind does not require gods in this age.

It requires monsters.

 

http://i411.photobucket.com/albums/pp194/hodoalmir/_20160925_010323_zpsxmvdfpxv.jpg
Partially reconstructed pict-capture of, allegedly, Terrawatt-Posthumana Byril at the battle of Monsii

[Soldier of Dorn]

Sweet.

 

This should be a pretty exciting ride, now, shouldn't it? Can't wait to see what you bring here buddy!

[Dagoth Ur]

Retaliation

 

 

Corner the quarry, it'll make for an easy catch they say.

May work for rad-lions or even dust-badgers, sure.

But let me tell you one thing son.

That 'wisdom' doesn't hold with humans, oh no.

When a human is cornered, then it fights the hardest.

Cornered, man becomes a monster with nothing left to lose.

Cornered, everything becomes a target.

 

-Master Ante The Blachearted Šibić, Instructor of the Vračar at Beo-City

 

 

---Day 132 of the 27th and last Panpacific War---

---Baranda-Cliffs, close to the M'riana Trench---

 

Black skies illuminated by sub-atmosphere bombardment span over me. Even through my rebreather I can smell the earthy reek of salt, grease and blood. This used to be an ocean once. Must've been beautiful, all that blue. A rare colour these days. The salt is still mined today, not far from where we wage this war. Fascinating how the bigger coral-structures have calcified and created a landscape of almost alien quality to itself. Reminds me of this statue I have seen once, The Birthing Machine by some Gygar or something. Beneath all this beauty lies a deadly world. Mines are almost invisible beneath the white dust and I can hear their thunder around me constantly. Good thing we managed to maintain our tremor-sensor well, helps minimize the casualties.

Not only is man just as wicked around here as back home, but the fauna is quite a thing to behold too. We quickly came to respect the dust-badgers, a wolverine-like beast that could fit a whole child into its maw. Its black and white fur made for some damn good camouflage, but ain't no chance in hell I'd send my men out to hunt these beasts. My genetrix told me, that the dust-badgers genus derived form something that the people before Old-Night called a 'honey-badger'. Honey was, apparently, a sweet and sticky substance that children adored. It's beyond me, why in all hell's name someone would name such a fierce thing after a treat.

I often think about such things as I wander. My mind is alert, yet I can't help it but ponder upon such, ultimately meaningless, things. I rarely have the chance to do so, war is my life after all. I wonder if my men feel the same?

Like stepping in eggshells, a crackling sound emanates from somewhere close. I halt, perfectly still and in a half-crouch, as I scan for enemies. The sound of feet on dry salt is clearly audible, even through the noise of constant bombardment. A gentle pain aches in back as a small needle slides into my meat and 65% diluted adrenox is pushed into my bloodstream. Everything becomes sharper, more vivid. All sounds are amplified, almost deafening even through my helm. My skin crawls as I hear breathing.

 

Breathing.

 

Something stirrs in my brain, something wild. Something humans are taught to surpress and control very early on.

 

Rage.

 

The sound of cracking salt comes closer. I can hear voices giving orders and weapons being readied.

 

Hate.

 

My head snaps around. Three humans. Unaugmented. A grin spreads across my face.

 

HUNGER.

 

Immediately my legs propel me forwards. My gun's bark and my own roar echo in unison as I duck beneath snapshots. My armor protects me from most slugs, yet still I feel a hot, piercing pain across my side. The wound only feeds the hunger for killing. I notice that my gun is empty as I my finger spasms around the trigger. I swing it in a sideway arc and break one man's neck. As he tumbles down, my machete already comes down upon the second one, cutting off his right arm and lower leg in one swoop. His screaming distracts me long enough in my adrenaline-fuelled killing spree for the last man to hit me square on my chest with a mace. My shaky fingers let go of the weapons as my insides clang like a bell. Instinctively, I crouch to retrieve them, netting myself another strike to the cheek.

Screw the weapons then. I've got fists for something. With a horrible headache, I lunge at the enemy as he is about to strike down a third time. We fall down as I break his wrist. The salty dust quickly engulfs us and my mail-armoured fists come down in a hail of strikes. I grin as I feel his flesh being ripped off by my iron armor. His remaining arm scratches across my helm. Futile. I can feel his teeth breaking. The physical trauma is immense. The cranial structure is completely destroyed. After tearing his protective mask off, I see his astonishingly white, iris-less eyes staring at me. The rest of his noggin is a filthy, bloody mess. In my sadistic stupor, I grab him by the hair and press the traumatized meat into the salt. I can feel him shaking and screaming. Bloodcurdling. Painful. Exhiliarating.

He stops moving after a while. I stand up and pluck the meat from my armour's joints. While picking up my weapons, I hear a scratching noise. I forgot the second bastard, I had just disarmed him. Quite literally. His whimpering is disgusting. I find him quickly, the dark trail of blood taking all the joy out of the hunt. I maul him to death, just like his friend. It feels good. This wet, sloppy sound of meat bursting beneath my knuckles, it's amazing.

After a while, I pick myself up again and begin marching. The drug is wearing off. Looking back one more time, an icy feeling spreads in my gut.

I feel disgusted.

 

 

http://i411.photobucket.com/albums/pp194/hodoalmir/002_zps4sjpc18c.jpg

Remembrancer Liram's interpretation of the Last Panpacific War.

Depicted is Reaver-Lord Ivan The Ruinwalker Atenović.

The piece bears the title "Dawn of Unity".

 

----------------------------------------------------------------------

 

So, this time it's just a sketch as I am waiting for all the parts to build me some Witchers! Special thanks to Hyaenidae as the idea for a posthumana regiment and the helm design comes from him.
 
@The Psycho: My man, ain't no brakes on this crazy train!
 
Soo, I haven't been idle ofcourse! I've started building/sculpting a lil' something! Take a look...
http://i411.photobucket.com/albums/pp194/hodoalmir/DSC_0055_zpscvjoy10p.jpg

http://i411.photobucket.com/albums/pp194/hodoalmir/DSC_0054_zpsssjgzqqt.jpg
 
Now, some of you may be thinking: Thunderwarrior! Nope, Space Marines but without powerarmour. I will be basing most of my gigantic posthumans, like the Terrawatt warriors and space marines on the AoS Khorne miniatures as I find them just perfect, but also in an attempt to explore their versatility. They will be armed with some high-density plate/flakk-armour, very close in aesthetics to the Cadian and Genestealer-Cults miniatures. Theme is a special one: Ghost Legion. Yep, you heard it here first! XXth Legion sneaking around in your base, making it belong to us:
This mini is pretty WiP but I have already found something i will definitely change. I think about adding a shoulderchain to the machine-gun as right now it still looks a bit unbalanced.
 
There will be some more culture stuff comming, as I want to explore how Unification-Terra might have looked like (Right now I am thinking of Mad-Max¹⁰). Any ideas, wishes and comments are more than welcome!
 
C&C is, as always, very welcome! Enjoy and have a good time!

[jimbo13]

I must know... Where is that chain axe from!?!?

[Supe robot gangster #1]

I must know... Where is that chain axe from!?!?

The head looks like it's from the Orks nob box.

[Soldier of Dorn]

Nah, AoBR Nobz (I think) not the multipart kit.

[bluntblade]

(Sallivates)

[Dagoth Ur]

I must know... Where is that chain axe from!?!?

 

I am not quite sure if it was the AoBR Nobz set or the actual multipart Nobz kit, but it was one of the twohanded Choppa weapons. Hope that helps! :)

[Dagoth Ur]

The Son of Ancient Helvetia

 

 

A weird creature he is. Staunch and aloof, yet so compassionate for us humans.

I remember the day he met his father, the Pale Reaper. It was disheartening.

He saw the culture of thousand Albians be cast aside in favour of Barbarus.

He saw the death of the very culture that adopted him, one of the Effigia Angelum.

Renouncing his father and the Death Guard, the Aegis came to us.

The Aegis, who stood with us during the Panpacific Slaughter, would stand with us during the Great Siege.

 

Reaver-Lord Ivan The Ruinwalker Atenović, Commander of the Krvavi 2^nd

 

--Day 146 of the 27th and last Panpacific War--
--Dothra, Hive-City 89,2 km east of the M'riana Trench--

--Status: Under Siege--

--Population prior to the siege: Ca. 78 million--

--Current population: Ca. 20 million--

 

 

The hive was a deathtrap. Dume's forces had spread mines all across the city and countless automatized kill-corridors just waited to spring into action. The outcome of the war was all but decided by now. Three hives remained: Dothra, Garudo and Ito. After they fell, the M'riana Trench would be free for the taking. It would prove to be a bloody battle though, not that none expected that.

Dothra was silent for the most part. One got used to the constant thrum of shells raining down and so could focus on what was happening within the walls. Apart from little skirmishes and the occasional trap springing shut, there was no sound to be heard. The Vračar were sent out as an insertion force in order to scout out the city and weaken strategical positions of the enemy. The first task was like a breeze, the other...not so much. The Hudra-district was empty, not a single living soul here. No encampments, no staches of ammunition, no nothing. There were clear signs of recent habitation, such as clothes drying in the salty air, fresh produce sitting in the shops and still alive pets wandering around. This place must've been bristling with life just two weeks ago.

"Šefe, I'm picking up something." Vice was using an old S'rban honorific while talking to me. Boss, he called me but in a more familiar manner. I turned to him as he pointed out a large, fluorescent green discolouration on his handheld scanner.

"Listen, brate, you and I both know that I'm illiterate when it comes to this techno-lingo, so why don't you tell me what you've picked up and be usefull for once?" We were always rough to each other, but such were the people of the Balk'n. Forged together in war and blood, sharp tongue but close brotherhood.

"This echosomatic depiction indicates a conflict of small to medium size", the boy was smart, had to give him that, very good at compiling data. Relaying that data, however, was not his strength. I sighed and turned to Anja, a tall woman hailing from the Gracian Yeller-Clans. 

"The thing is picking up a small skirmish around here somewhere, possibly some of our men even." Her voice was smooth and dark, echoing just enough through her half-mask in order to give it an eerie tint. She refused to wear helms and opted for a more traditional Yeller-mask that covered her nose, mouth and cheeks in a grimace of contorted iron. Her skin was unnaturally white, which was only exemplified by her dark-coloured dreadlocks.

"Hvala Anja, let's move out then." I said, gripping my machete tighter and grinning behind my hyaenidae-pattern helm "I'm aching for a good scrap."

 

--Sixteen standard minutes and twenty-five standard seconds later--

--Dashaya-District: Marketplace--

 

Idi nahuj! Small skirmish they said! Sure, not many people but the separatists were wielding heavy minning lasers and two handed chainweapons. We've lost three good soldiers in an ambush just before entering the marketplace and raining down fire upon the enemy. We found allies too. Not of our kin, but some other regiment I did not recognize. They were very gaudy, clad in golden-yellow and black leather with stark blue eye-lenses, but they fought valiantly. Their las-shots rarely missed and their formation was certainly more disciplined that ours, but we both were stuck behind ruined walls as the enemy encroached underneath the own hail of las-fire. i could already hear the blasted bastards shouting orders to encircle us.

"All soldiers retreat to the Naffer-Plaza" I shouted into the vox "I repeat, all soldiers retreat to the Plaza!"

The foreign regiment, due to being less armoured than us and, I presume, not augmented, left first as we organized the coverfire. The gun in my hand roared as I unleashed a volley of bullets, each one bursting open in a gush of greenish phosphex fire as it pierced flesh. The Krvavi were slowly rallying behind me, low-energy las-fire and bullets bouncing off of their plate as I was about to give a new order.

Instead a new, booming voice echoed across our com.

 

"RESIST"

 

My head jerked around, looking for the source of this order. The vox-designator only displayed the Raptor Imperialis, a XIV and the moniker AEGIS in blood-red light.

 

"REMAIN"

 

This is when I saw him. Something tore down a nearby wall, blasting dust, salt and ferrocrete over the marketplace. Crimson lightning parted the dust, annahilating whatever it struck and leaving back the faint smell of ozone. Finally, a hulking man made out of ceramite, gold and iron stepped into the light of day and commenced a massacre unlike any I had seen prior to that moment.

http://i411.photobucket.com/albums/pp194/hodoalmir/_20161014_185317_zpsbv42harz.jpg

In utter silence, the golem swung his gun, an archaic device utterly foreign to me, around and blasted the enemy apart quicker than I could process. Each and every step made the pavement crack and splinter, yet he was faster than any of us. By far. It didn't take him long to cross the marketplace. With a combat-blade in his other hand, he took to close combat. Dume's forces were scattered and disorganized after this surprise. The giant had bought us a chance.

"Vojnici, napad!" I shouted in our tongue, already sprinting through the ruins and brandishing my blade. The Krvavi followed my every step, guns blazing and shouting like berzerks. There it was, the exhiliaration of war. Assault was bred into us, not espionage, not intel-collection, but assault. Battle felt good. The chem-riddled aftermath never did, but when your blade is stuck within someone, you stop thinking about what will happen afterwards.

Dume's troops were trying to escape.

The giant, and by extension we, would have none of it.

http://i411.photobucket.com/albums/pp194/hodoalmir/_20161014_185345_zpsjsukyar0.jpg

As powerful as I felt just twenty minutes ago, I felt rather small and vulnerable infront of the giant. He was nearly double my size and I wasn't exactly a small fella. I smirked, his head was kinda small though. The armour was painted in a soft, misty grey, except for the right arm that was daubed in deep bordeaux. Everything was trimmed with pale gold. The gold had a slight tinge of greenish-blue to it when the light struck it right. Helvetian gold. Oddly enough, the insignia and decoration was Albian.

"'tis was jolly good cooperation my friend!" He laughed, slapping me on the shoulder with his bear-paw "Who are you anyways?"

"I am Ivan Atenović, reaver-lord of the Vračar's 2^nd regiment the Krvavi. They call me the Ruinwalker. These are my men." I gestured back, encompassing the battered and yet stoic band of mercenaries that was my family "Are you Albian?"

"Ah no, well at least not born Albian. My name is Nathan Viové, Lord-Centurion of the XIV^th legion, the Dusk Raiders. They call me the Aegis." He unclasped and depressurized his helm, revealing a handsome face with long, dark blonde hair and a short-cropped beard. His eyes had the colour of blue turmaline "I was sent out to find you and several other regiments. We shall be redeploying to the Trench directly."

"To the Trench?" A cold, gummy feeling spread in my gut. It was madness to go even near that place until total land-superiority was reached.

"Indeed friend. Fear not, the Emperor shall provide for us." A knowing smile spread across his face, revealing slightly yellowed teeth.

Marching at a steady pace, we followed Nathan through the hive, more cautious than before.

"So" I begun, pointing at his gun "Fancy gun you got there. What is it?"

"A Terrawatt-pattern Volkite charger. Projects thermic energy in order to incinerate flesh and iron." With the routine of a man used to this kind of work, he inspected his gun "A fancy raygun of death basically."

"Fascinating, never seen something like that. Not even from the Terrawatt-Clan." The casing was beautifully engraved with runes and depictions of wailing ghost-creatures.

"It's a product of the Emperor's freshly forged union with the Martian Mechanicum." He drew another gun from his hip. This one I recognized, unknown pattern, but it was a regular mass-reactive pistol outfitted with phosphex and chemo-tex ammunition "You'll see the many, many wonders Mars will provide us with in battle against the Tyrant King."

I kept analyzing his wargear, marvelling at the optical brutality and yet the sophistication and devotion put into everything from the gyros to the decoration.

Breathtaking.

http://i411.photobucket.com/albums/pp194/hodoalmir/_20161014_185413_zps6knbckur.jpg

"So you are not Albian, yet you wear their livery" Conversing with Nathan was enjoyable, a rare good these days "How comes?"

"The Dusk Raiders are Albian at heart. Not a surprise considering that most recruits hail from there. I, however, have been born and shaped in the depths of Goddardia, where the Helvetian Technocracy resides to this day" He pointed to the engraved cross on the inside of his right vambrace, a simple shape with a helix in the middle "Old and ancient people they are. Masters of the genetics and flesh magycks. It is not improbable that most of the now known and utilized forms of gene-enhancement can be traced back to Ancient Helvetia."

"Goddardia you say, not far away from Zyricha. Beautiful mountains, especially when the sun sets over the oxid-wastes around them. I heard of the bunker-complex being opened by imperial forces" How life must've been there, I wondered. So far away from the sky and the burning air "Why did they flee?"

"Well, first of all, they were constantly under attack by the Y'go Slavian city-states" My back tensed up as he mentioned my home "But the most important reason is that they expected the Great Fission to happen sooner rather than later."

"The Great Fission?" I like to think of myself as well versed in history, but that term didn't ring a bell in the slightest "What's that?"

"The day the Nuclear Wars started" I could see a certain sadness in his blue-greenish eyes. It struck me as odd to see such a creature bear such an intense, human emotion so plainly on its face "It was the day the divine right to mankind's plight was christened."

http://i411.photobucket.com/albums/pp194/hodoalmir/_20161014_185435_zpsfuazdia2.jpg

 

"Why do they call you the Aegis?"

"Why do they call you the Ruinwalker?"

"Fair enough I suppose" The thrumming of his armour's powersource was nasty. It made my teeth and skin tingle "I earned that moniker on the day I razed the city of Venecia and slew its tyrant in the ruins of his palace."

"A kingslayer I see" Nathan gave an approving nod "Not many can say that of themselves."

I was unsure if that was meant as a compliment or an insult, but decided to take it as former.

"So" I repeated myself "Why Aegis? I don't see you wearing a shield."

"The Aegis is a mythical concept of Hellenia, that was adopted into Albian mythology. It's a divine shield, though not neccessarily a physical one. It can be an aura bestowed by a patron or deity that deflects the blows of an enemy most unrighteous." Nathan opened his hand, palm facing towards the sky and I felt a weird pressure form "My Albian brethren call me the Aegis because in their eyes I embody the core value of our legion: Protect those who can't do so themselves and slay those that do wrong upon them."

"Does it have a Helvetian meaning?" I inquired, feeling that Nathan was perhaps leading me to this.

"It has, but not a passive-protective one. You must understand, the Helvetians are...vindictive" Suddenly, the giant's posture changed into something more...feral or sinister "To them, the Aegis is the noose around a ruler's throat, waiting for a misstep, a false judgement. They do not forgive incompetence, so when a king turns tyrant, a man turns a wifebeater, the Aegis is there, everwatchful. My surrogate-mother named me such after she saw me splatter an old drunkard against a wall as he was abusing a child."

"A noble, if savage deed. I would've done the same" I didn't lie, but the easiness and comraderie that was between us had almost vanished "But I asume there is more to that deed?"

"Indeed. I can feel misery. Please no curious stares friend. I am what common men call a witch" The air around him slowly shifted, just like before above his hand. It remembered me of a dog sniffing for wild "People's minds are like lighthouses in an eternal storm, each emotion, each though a different colour of light. Some witches 'see' just such lights. I can only see one, injust suffering, and it is clear to me like a fanal in the dark. It draws me to it, rouses me into a cold bloodlust. A dychotomy of needing to punish and to protect."

"I understand" I simply answered, suddenly aware that whatever this giant was, it was created by the Emperor, and He never created angels.

Only monsters.

 

------------------------------------------------

 

 

So, I just cobbled together a truescale Dusk Raider on my off-day from university. I was intrigued by the idea of justice/revenge/vindication, as I am currently writing a paper on just such a topic and remembered that the Dusk Raiders and Mortarion once started as 'revolutionists' in the sense that they abhorred tyrants.

The only thing I will definitely change are the shoulderpads as these are only placeholderr. I am waiting for two unadorned FW Gorgon Terminator Shoulders to come my way as I simply love that layered look.

 

Hope you like him!

 

Questions & Comments & Criticism is, as always welcome!

[Vairocanum]

The Dusk Raider looks so good, he seems so much more hulking than other true scales I've seen. What is the base head from? 

[Dagoth Ur]

Thanks mate! The head is a shameless copy of Hyaenidae's Bjaha Sur Caballeors It's a simple conversion made out of the Dragoon Skitarii Head and a Cadian Command Squad respirator mask. Slice off the "snout" of the head and glue the mask on, there you go! :)

[Dagoth Ur]

For Whom the Bells Toil

 

 

Within this cell died the Tyrant King

Herein lies Nathan Dume's foul carcass

May it never change 'til Sol dies

May his like never roam 'tis land no more

 

Inscription above Cell 001.004, Khangba Marwu

 

 

--Day 89 after the Last Panpacific War--

--Location: Khangba Marwu--

 

 

The place was an old and ancient one. Deep below the mountains, hidden away from sun and rain, lies the ancient prison. Khangba Marwu. Or Zamak Noćnih Mora, the Keep of Nightmares, as the many tribes of the Ural called it. It is here that some of the most heinous creatures humanity knew were entombed. For each and every monstrum, tyrant and murderer a cell was fashioned, no two alike. The executioner passed many doors, each and every one unique save for the golden plaque embossed with names.

 

Uillaume le Rouge

 

Barado the Hungry

 

The Korova-Sentience

 

Countess Salomée

 

Shendor, Warlord of Ursh

 

Almir, Tempestomancer of Helvetia

 

Many were their names. Many more their crimes. The executioner did not need to read the names to know who was inside. He could smell the foulness creeping through the many mechanisms, he could feel the depravity of these once-human souls. The taint was palpable. He had not come for them, not yet at the very least. The corridor led him deep into the oldest corners of this fortress, where unwholesome and malicious things stalked the darkness and life meant a shadowy half-existence.

Normal humans could not see in the opaque black of this place, most Astartes couldn't either. No light existed here, no fire. The executioner did not have need for any. He was genetic perfection, fashioned by the Emperor himself into the most wholesome being there could be. His fist tightened around the glaive as he felt the familiar presence of his prisoner. He was not a psychic by any means, but his senses had been amplified to unimaginable levels, connected to each other like a complex cogitation machine. He could taste heartbeats, hear the fear in a mans mind and feel the movement behind each and every door.

The executioner reached his destination and begun performing the rites of opening. This door was indeed a special one. Three men wide and five high, it was hewn out of adamantium and lined from both sides with thrice-engraved silver, obsidian and dimeritium. Diamond-hard hoarfrost covered the runes and dipped the whole surrounding in a gentle-blueish light of psychic decompression. As the door opened, a single name flashed up in the dark.

 

Nathan Dume, Panpacific Emperor

http://i411.photobucket.com/albums/pp194/hodoalmir/Custodes20WiP201_zpsyvxnf9zv.jpg

 

The room was vast, both in width and height. Every inch of adamantium was engraved with circles, hexagrams and glyphs of binding, all of it glowing in indescribable colours and exhuding smells and sounds unbeknownst to man. Chains forged out of gleaming silver and inlaid with a thousand martyr's bones were stretched taut from their anchors in the walls and ceiling, leading to a single creature in the middle of the illuminated room. The executioner's eyes focused on the beast.

-You have come- It spoke with the voice of untold genocides -As ordained.-

The creature might once have been human, but these days were lost to history. Now only a hellish thing of amalgamated flesh, brass and bone resided in this place. Its bruised back was facing the executioner, iron chains implanted deeply into it and bound with spells of pain and suffering. Much had been sacrificed in binding him here. Slowly, patiently, the executioner made his way around the beast, blade and gun always pointed at its vital parts. His eyes took in all the details: Pale flesh, rusting sockets and bone protrusions.

-Not talkative, I see- It spoke with its psychic voice, nothing short of a full battallion of Sisters of Silence could drown out its full powers -You are different though. Older.-

Finally, he could face the prisoner. The head was almost comically small on that frame, yet no less disturbing. The smooth, flesh dome lacked all signs of a human face. No eyes, no mouth. Nothing. As far as the Emperor's scientists could discern, the creature needed not to breathe.

"Nathan Dume, dethroned Emperor of the Panpacific Empire. I am Marcus Aurelian Scipio Heorenis Nauvu-"

-Yes yes, I know. Please spare me the roll of honours. I might be dethroned, yet I am still royalty. Remember that, Custodes.-

"By the Emperor's command, you are sentenced to death without trial" Marcus continued, his halberd resting beneath Dume's chin "He, in his immense wisdom and knowledge, has evaluated your person and past, finally deeming you unfit for any kind of rehabilitation. Furthermore, He suspects that you could not be of any greater use to humanity anymore. As such, I have been commanded to release you from your mortal coils and leave your body imprisoned within these walls until the last sun dies and the breathe of entropical death reaches Terra. He, in all of his generosity allows you one last gift. As a sign of goodwill."

-A gift? Oh how quaint.-

"He wishes me to record your last words and lay them to rest in his very own library, so that humanity may never forget the monsters of the past and the men and women that birthed them." Marcus' golden gloves crunched around the haft "Do you accept?"

-Indeed I do.- Even though Dume could not move an inch, he seemed to relax a bit -I am Nathan Dume, first and last Panpacific Emperor, Lord of Flesh and Bone, Once-ruler of Old-Albia and Enemy of the Emperor. They call me the Mad King, the Red-handed Reaver and Khranta Namü, Souleater in the speech of Yndus. All who read this shall learn what I have to teach: Tyrants may not be eternal, but Tyranny is. The Emperor will not be any different, for he shall be the greatest of us all. There will always be slaves and masters, rulers and ruled ones. None shall escape this cycle, as long as there are two who breathe and long for something. It is human nature to exploit and abuse, it is the very nature of our being. Remember that, as you toil to uphold his throne of gold and blood.-

"Your words shall be relayed to the writers of Venecia and inscribed upon silver, gold and leather" Marcus thumbed a switch on his weapon and the blade cast a crackling, blue light over the Tyrant "Now, you must die."

http://i411.photobucket.com/albums/pp194/hodoalmir/Custodes20WiP202_zpsnjisyvci.jpg

 

Few would read the last words of Nathan Dume, even fewer would know who he was. His cell in Khangba Marwu would never be opened again, sealed for all times in fear of the many secrets the carcass held within itself. In many ways, Dume was right. In many ways, the Emperor truly became what he once fought. Shameful voices whisper that he never was any different to begin with.

It is not our place to question. We are his closest, most trusted creations. We obey as we were created to. We do not care about right or wrong.

We obey.

 

-----------------------------------------------------------

[Gorgoff]

Stunning stuff.

Perfect to read while I cure my vast hangover.

[gideon stargreave]

Love that we're seeing more unification stuff!

 

Great stuff, that massive Thunder warrior is awesome

[Draakur]

Loving your style, you've got my support here brother, looking forward to what's next!

[Dagoth Ur]

Thanks for all the lovely comments guys! I'm kinda on the fly right now, so I will be going in depth on them in the next update but i wanted to pitch you some ideas:

 

-First of all, the Custodes is almost finished so this thread will finally see some paint...

 

-I have been thinking about giving the Dusk Raider one of the new custodes shields as I simply love the look...I will be posting a mock up when I get some, but what do you guys think?

 

-I will post up the first WiP of Ivan The Ruinwalker as I get my parts next week! :)

 

That's all for now folks, stay Cheeky Breeky :D

[Soldier of Dorn]

Looking forward to the Custodes being painted. :tu: Definitely one of the better Stormcast-to-Custodes conversions I've seen (though the timing is a bit funny, don't you think? :P)

 

To be honest, I don't think the Dusk Raider needs a shield. Compositionally, he already works quite well, but it might be worth trying out nonetheless.

 

And I eagerly await the arrival of the Ruinwalker...

[Dagoth Ur]

The Ghost Legion

 

 

XX

 

Anon

 

--Day 151 of the 27th and last Panpacific War--
--M'riana Trench, City of Nadange--

--Status: Under Siege--

 

The room was dimly lit and damp. Every few minutes, the earth shook from the constant shelling and dust and spackle rained from the ceilling. The men huddled within where no older than twenty summers, except for an old, grizzled man standing infront of them. His uniform, much like that of his protegées, was of an uniform drab colour, only distinguished by the gold-embossed sigils upon his chest that denoted his rank.

Projected on the wall was a vid-capture of recently deceased allies, the unit was tasked with analyzing this piece of information and extract as much knowledge about this so-called 'Emperor's' forces, as possible. Everyone was silent apart from the constant buzzing noise the old projector produced. The image was slightly grainy and monochrome, but it displayed quite clearly the specific routes and canyons the 89^th Tyrant Guard was supposed to march on that day. The Tyrant Guard, a geno-tempered regiment of psy-slaves, was famed for their combat prowess and the latent precog abilities that they possessed and shared through a primitive mind-gestalt.

The patrol was silent, only sharing more complex information through speech, and performed well within expected parametres. Each and every corner was secured before an advance was made and every nook was thoroughly scanned. This all could not preserve the 89^th from what was to come. Out of nowwhere, a creature appeared, moving so fast that the vid-unit only managed to pick up its movements in a stroboscope-like manner. The creature was as tall as two and a half men, swinging something in it's right hand with great precision. The Guard fell quickly, each and every one overwhelmed by the sudden assault but also afflicted by a sudden attack of spasmic muscle-reactions.

The old officer waited patiently until freezing the pict-capture at one specific moment that revealed the physical nature of the attacker. Humanoid in shape, broad shoulders, a small head, armed in high-density adamantium plates and wielding a combat sword of the Terrawatt-Gamma-IIIBeta pattern. A highly sought after weapon that looked like a knife in its hand.

"What could this be, gentlemen?" He inquired "What are we facing in battle?"

"Sir, is it a Thunderwarrior?" One of the younger recruits offered.

"Offer another stupid answer and you'll be scrubbing the toilets after Chili-night, soldier" The officer scoffed "Obviously it is not a Thunderwarrior. It is not tall enough and certainly not broad enough. Where the Thunderwarrior is a malformed, 'roid-gutted berzerk, this specimen is finely chiselled, elegant and capable of high tactical finesse. As we can see later in the feed, it slaughters twenty five soldiers. Alone. In twenty-three point two-seven seconds."

"Officer Amato" Another soldier begun, this one, however, appeared to be of an equal rank if the honorifics were anything to go by "What do we make of the iconography?"

"Good question, Officer Bradley. Observe the plethora of insignia" Amato began pointing to several areas of the creature's armor "The belt features a twin-headed eagle, an unknown symbol, though clearly affiliated with the false Emperor of the Hymalazia. Intel suspects that this symbol has something to do with a newly forged alliance between Martian colonists and the false Emperor. In several places we have thunderbolts and even a raptor imperialis engraved upon the right vambrace. Clearly affiliated with the false Emperor."

"Sir, what is with the XX engraved upon the shoulderplate?" The platoon's medic had quite keen eyes, Amato thought "Is it possibly related to the so-called Astartes? They have featured such numerals quite prominently."

"Very possible, but a few things speak against this" Amato turned to the squad and began recounting "We have never before encountered unit XX of the Astartes Imperialis. This modus operandi is radically different from anything we have seen displayed thus far by them. Even unit VIII and XIX do not operate as such harrowing units but as terror-troops. We know that all Astartes units utilize newly acquired poweramor, as seen with example XIV Nathan Viové. This one does not. Also, it, thus far, appears to operate alone behind enemy lines. Again, very unusual."

http://i411.photobucket.com/albums/pp194/hodoalmir/_20161019_211602_zps1xbgthdd.jpg

 

The creature began moving with dizzying speed again as the vid continued. The combat technique was astounding. It managed to avoid bullets with eerie precision and simply crushed or cut apart anything that came even close to it. As the fight progressed, the creature found itself surrounded and still outnumbered. Without stopping to assess the situation, it dropped a flashbang, surprising the Guard and forcing them into averting their gaze. The camera lost track of the creature for not even a second. As the owner turned back, it had vanished. The soldiers were bewildered, but not because they had lost track of the thing. They were asking why they were holding their weapons primed and aimed, why there were dead comrades and why their heads hurt. Nobody seemed to recall what had happened, at all.

"What has happened here?" Officer Bradley inquired, prompting the vid to stop "Why are they so confused? Why don't they secure the parameter?"

"Good questions comrade. The soldier that holds the picter through which we see, Nanir Ebadlem, is the only survivor" Amato turned to the squad "He has no recollection of the even or of the creature. As soon as he is shown any form of depiction of this creature, he seems to instantly remember all. If one takes away the picture in question, Nanir immediately forgets everything again and falls into a state of bewilderment."

"So what you are trying to say, Amato, is" Bradley's eyes had widdened "That this creature erases psycho-somatic and visual imprints of itself from the minds of other beings?"

"Indeed. As you will come to expirience, it is even incredibly hard to remember details about it after we finish this vid" The older officer scratched his sideburns "We do not know if this is regular, some form of technology hailing from Mars or even witchery. We also do not know if it wanted to be seen and thus allowed Nanir to survive, maybe even allowing us to keep some form of recollection about it. Advanced terror tactics if you will."

"That...is disturbing" The medic answered, while quickly adding "Sir"

http://i411.photobucket.com/albums/pp194/hodoalmir/_20161019_211322_zpsnigbw9qz.jpg

 

Again, the pict-feed continued, the Guard still highly bewildered. Their guns slowly sank in confusion as some took to inspecting the maimed corpses. This would prove to be a mistake. The air in the background began shifting, like when a window is open in winter and the hot air evaporates to the outside, thus creating a mirage of shimmering air. Out of nowhere, the creature appeared again, this time brandishing an ornate rifle. It shot with the utmost precision, each and every bullet hitting its destined target without mistake. The bullets were huge, the picts alone suggested thumb size. The wounds were gruesome. Limbs got torn off, heads splattered across the field. Visceral.

Before the men could adapt, most of them were already dead. Only the pict-bearer still lived and he was injured on the floor. The giant marched closer, slow enough for the picter to get a good shot. It bore a half-cloak, ragged and torn, held together by two chains and what appeared to be a skull-shaped broche. It crouched down, looking Nanir directly into the eyes and before it could speak, the vid paused again.

"This is a very interesting segment" Bradley began "The creature clearly displays Astartes physiognomy, yet it is almost a full head taller than the usual Astartes. Maybe a sub-genome? Or another sub-routine was added during creation?"

"This would certainly explain these phenotypical differences and the unusual, if real, psychich abilities" Amato retorted "Though we must be afraid. Very, very afraid. If the false Emperor is capable of creating even just one of these, then he might as well be able to create a legion. He has an unimaginable array of tools at his disposal: his own labs, the Terrawatt clans, the Panslawic tribes, the Albians and even the Helvetian Technocracy he managed to rouse back from history."

"The Helvetians...?" The medic looked in disbelief "The ancient culture that is quite possibly the origin for all gene-based transmutation of human to post-humana? Please excuse me speaking out of order sir but... do we have proof of this?"

"Yes" Amato sighed "Sadly we do. We have seen several units bearing the cross-helix of the Technocracy. We have also encountered some of the more esoteric genetic creations that are attributed to them. All in all, very bleak. Anyways, the pict-feed is almost finished, we shall hear the thing talk even."

The vid continued and Nanir spoke

"W-who are you?"

 

http://i411.photobucket.com/albums/pp194/hodoalmir/_20161019_211356_zpsqcezzady.jpg

 

"We are the Ghost Legion"
 

--------------------------------------------------

 

So, here ya go, non-poweramour Astartes! Hope you like my first endeavour into them! :) Not quite sure on the paintscheme, still trying out... I'll find something. I was thinking about slate-grey armour with deep, ashen blue fabric, indigo armour with grey fabric or a third option that currently eludes me....

 

Well, anyways

 

@Gorgoff: Thanks man, I know perfectly what you mean^^

 

@gideon stargreave: Unification4Lyfe! Though i'm not quite sure who you mean with Thunderwarrior as I still havent posted one? :) Nathan Viové is a Dusk Raider Space Marine and the thing in the very first post is a Terrawatt Clan warrior that I have invented myself.

 

@Draakur: Thanks man, your feedbacks and comments are the biggest motivator ever! :D

 

@The Psycho: Thanks mate, but the conversion is a shameless rip-off from Kizzdougs amazing version(Which is even better than mine!). About the timing, well, i had that bugger for two months on my table and decided to crack open the paints. basecoats laid down and bam, what do I see? The new Custodes... I've tried out a few shields today and was not a fan, but I will try to convert one of the swords that comes with the custodes as I have quite a nifty idea....

 

So, that's all for today!

 

Enjoy and C&C is always welcome! :D

[Dagoth Ur]

So, as my shoulderpads have finally arrived, I can now share my PiP of Nathan Viové, my Dusk Raider.

Detailed writeup of the painting will follow later, probably in the tutorial subforum.

http://i411.photobucket.com/albums/pp194/hodoalmir/_20161024_230826_zpsxl4pvnw9.jpg

http://i411.photobucket.com/albums/pp194/hodoalmir/_20161024_230752_zpsbload0y1.jpg

http://i411.photobucket.com/albums/pp194/hodoalmir/_20161024_230729_zpskmvc0dzc.jpg

 

Hope you like the PiP and if you want to pitch any ideas on figures or schemes, feel free to do so!

[~Drakzilla~]

Awesome looking Dusk Raider! He looks massive! Getting some very steampunk, WW1 vibes.

 

As for figure ideas, how about a XVIII Legion veteran/survivor of the subterranean battle against the Ethnarcy? That was a piece of fluff from the Unification Wars that always stood out to me, showing them fighting an uphill battle and surviving against all odds, just like the XVIII should.

[Dagoth Ur]

Where Lions roam

 

 

Many monsters He has forged.

Some horrid.

Some beautiful.

 

Unknown Poet of the Panpacific Empire

 

 

--Day 163 of the 27th and last Panpacific War--
--M'riana Trench, Upper Saldana Cliff--

--Status: Under Siege--

 

 

The heat of battle.

The blaze of war.

It is here that I walk.

It is here that I dance.

Blade in my hands,

Courage in my heart.

I march forward, unrelenting

For I am HIS shield,

For I am HIS creation.

I must not fail,

I must not falter.

For doing so

is shaming HIM.

Glory is unbeknownst to me.

Duty is all I know.

Duty is all I am.

http://i411.photobucket.com/albums/pp194/hodoalmir/_20161025_231527_zps3v1dx4ug.jpg

 

The battle was ferocious. Men and women threw themselves at each other, exchanging blows of powered steel and piston-driven  force. A hail fire rained down from the skies.

Akin to the divine rage of some ancient Olympian, Ivan thought to himself. In his almost century long service, he had come to appreciate the dychotomy of war. The beauty and instilled awe of blossoming hellfire, lasers and glory intertwined with the shame of killing, the horror of trauma and the havoc wrought upon the world. Exhiliarating and devastating at once. The Panpacific War was perhaps the greatest war to date. Ivan could not imagine anything being more cataclysmic and beautiful.

He thought of his ancestors while marching beneath the deadly, nuclear winds of recently detonated warheads. Was it like this? The warrior questioned himself, The deafening silence and the scalding heat? Or was it even more horrific? Inside his armour, Ivan was safe. The Sarajev-Pattern warplate was composed of densely forged alloys, laced with lead-webbing and resorptive ceramite compounds in order to maximize the protection from Terra's environmental dangers. He laughed as his gun kicked in his hand, sending a volley of piercing shots into the panpacific soldier. Funny, how quickly one adapts. It was indeed ironic how quickly Ivan had abandoned, for a lack of better word, his native language's word for this planet in favour of the new, imperial designation. Zemlja is what his mother and his mother's mother had called this iradiated orb. Now it was just Terra.

A flash of gold, an arc of gleaming blue caught his eye, and Ivan froze, mouth agape behind his helmet's mask.

http://i411.photobucket.com/albums/pp194/hodoalmir/_20161025_231200_zpsplz5pbzs.jpg

 

A giant, almost thrice his size fought against three humongous brutes, yet did not appear to be in any discomfort. His glaive swung around in wide arcs, disintegrating anything it touched in a matter of moments. What appeared to be a boltgun attached to the blade, tore big, gaping holes into one of the gene-brutes, exposing malformed organs and corroded machinery to the salty air. Ivan had heard of these golden giants, but had always dismissed them as myth.

"Custodes" He cautiously whispered, as if the mere thinking of that word was sanctimonious. The fighting slowed down around Ivan, allowing him to take in a good view of the warrior before him. Quickly, however, the tides of panpacific slaves forced him to return to battle and lead his men from the front. Awe and fear were quickly replaced with the chem-stimulated hunger for killing. The thrumming of adrenox and kathraka in his chest sent gleaming flames through Ivan's body, making him hear the beat of hearts, the stench of sweat not belonging to him and the paper-like tearing of skin being torn to shreds by his machete.

http://i411.photobucket.com/albums/pp194/hodoalmir/_20161025_231335_zpszxjwionp.jpg

 

As night fell, the enemy retreated. Ivan's plea for following the panpacific cowards and murdering them while they were in shambles fell upon deaf ears. The imperial leaders had declined, instead opting for setting up their camp and re-evaluating the day's results.

He was slowly pacing around, like an animal with its pride wounded. His mind was cleansed from any traces of chem, but the temptation was sweet to get some more just to kill something. Anja, his right-hand, came up to Ivan, offering a shallow bow and some of her food rations. It was customary amongst the Panslawian tribes to offer ones food to their leaders. A good leader would refuse all but a customary bite, for first came the family, then the father. 

"Zdravo Gazda, ste dobro?" She was no beauty in the common sense, but her voice was rich and deep, deeper even than most men's.

"Tabom, tabom" Ivan always smiled involuntarily when someone conversed in his own dialect with him, dalmatio-vojvodian was a practically dead language after the Istrian cullings. Tearing off a piece of Piroške, a cheese-filled and fried bread, and dipping it in canned garlic-sauce, he gave her a warm smile "Hvala ti puno, Devojka."

"I told you several times not to call me 'girl', Gazda" Anja's teeth shone pearly white between her blackened lips, a remnant of her time with the xeric-tribes.

"So you did" The man answered, chewing slowly on his snack "How are the men?"

"Restless, Gazda, and wild to boot. They want to fight, the bite of adrenox is still fresh" Gratefuly, she accepted the flask of Rakija Ivan offered her. It tasted of black prunes and thorn-nuts "Why don't we just go out and fight on our own, like we've always done, Gazda?"

"For two very, very good reasons, Anja. On one hand, this is the heart of the Panpacific Empire" She followed Ivan's gaze and saw that he was staring directly at some gold-clad giant "On the other hand, I don't believe that the Emperor tolerates insubordination."

http://i411.photobucket.com/albums/pp194/hodoalmir/_20161025_231231_zpsbzleqipt.jpg

 

Marcus was observing the two armoured soldiers very closely. Even in this starless night, he could make them out clearly. Heavy, multi-alloyed armour with integrated servos and a wide array of sensory installations. The man, standing, approximately ninety-seven standard years old, appearing like thirty, was staring at him. The man's hand slowly tightened around the grip of his holstered machete, his eyes narrowing into blue slits. He didn't trust him one bit apparently. That suited Marcus just fine. He distrusted anyone who wasn't of his ilk or his protegée.

Everyone else was to be considered a potential danger.

 

----------------------------------------------------

 

So, custodes is finally painted and the Dusk Raider only needs basing and he'll be up too!

 

@drakzilla: Thanks man! Much of my inspiration was drown from the early Death Guard artworks and the Artworks done for the Horus Heresy Cardgame back in the day. The idea about the XVIII legion veteran is actually awesome, I've been wanting to paint up a truescale astartes in the Rogue Trader scheme for quite some while now and that's the camo they've used during that mission.

 

So, hope you like this little experiment in gold!

 

C&C is, as always, very welcome and appreciated!

[MikhalLeNoir]

I lile your experimemt in gold and that is exactly the gold thone I am looking for my wardens. Mind to share your recipe? Wäre voll knorke

[Andvarr A]

Impressive, most impressive

[Gorgoff]

Beautiful. Keep going.

[Dagoth Ur]

The Aegis

 

 

We called him the false Emperor. We believed this to be true.

Only Lord Dume was worthy of this title, so we thought.

That changed when the Astartes came.

When they descended, we finally understood.

We understood that the one true Emperor had arrived.

 

Unnamed survivor of the Panpacific Army.

 

--Day 170 of the 27th and last Panpacific War--
--M'riana Trench, Lower Saldana Cliff--

--Status: Under Siege--

http://i411.photobucket.com/albums/pp194/hodoalmir/_20161030_230831_zpsj9y6cduk.jpg

 

The air was thick with smoke and fire. I could smell the burning flesh through my respirator. Disgusting. Nathan Viové is leading our assault unit, his roaring warplate almost comically oversized compared to us. He was holding back, I could see that much. All Astartes asigned to human units practiced restraint when it came to marching speed, even though most post-human regiments had vastly improved physiology. His two guns were spattering death all around us. In his right, a beautiful revolver cast glowing, phosphex ammunition. Whatever they hit burst into hissing, vile flames of green and white. In his left rested his volkite charger. Wherever he pointed it, a loud thunder echoed and stark red lightning sprang from its barrel, akin to the legendary thunder-breath of the Garuda.

"Ivan" Nathan roared over the clamour of battle "We are approaching the barracks. Prepare for close combat!"

"Understood" We holstered our rifles and drew blades and guns. I could see many weapons from the corner of my eye. Man-Graw knives, Paruun axes and even a Skandii sax. Cultures of war and brutality were our favoured recrouting grounds. I grinned. Close combat was our form of war. Nathan blasted the massive door open with a melta charge.

Then it was our turn.

http://i411.photobucket.com/albums/pp194/hodoalmir/_20161030_230702_zpswpw75wnb.jpg

 

The woman was a formidable soldier. Her skill with a powermaul was undeniable. She was still clawing at my faceplate as I was breaking her body apart. The Krvavi moved quickly, never resting in one place for too long. Our tech-savants secured and broke open all forms of data we could find and left naught but empty hard-drives. Information was vital for our form of war. Reavers could not exist without rigid planning and the knowledge of potential dangers. I delegated this kind of work to a select few. I was more suited for honest combat.

A gunshot was heard and I could feel an impact on my shoulder.

The leader of the Panpacific unit had moved to the foreground of the battle and aimed his auto-pistol at me. Pity the fool. Simple slugs had almost no chance of penetrating thick armor. His combat 'suit' was composed of a flimsy brass plate and thick, boiled leather. My machete rested familiarly heavy in my hand. With thundering steps I roared, swinging the sheet of metal in a wide arc, ready to lob off a limb. His quick reactions took me by surprise, just as the rondello in my side did. The bastard was quick, a fencer. He ducked beneath my blade several times with ease while I had more than a fair amount of trouble turning away his stabs. I opened my defense a bit, and he took the bait like the stupid, little fishbrain that he was.

His rondello was lodged in my side, but my shieldarm wrapped quickly around his arm. What came next surprised him. I janked against his elbow, coaxed a wet, snapping noise from it and pushing it into an unnatural angle. As the soldier screamed, the pommel of my sword came down upon his head.

He was bleeding and screaming infront of me, as he tried to crawl away.

I stomped him to death.

http://i411.photobucket.com/albums/pp194/hodoalmir/_20161030_230751_zpsojigcvmm.jpg

 

The habitation-unit was cleaned out rather quickly. Slightly dissapointing but we had no time to lose. Nathan had gathered us again and began sifting through the collected data.

"Anything out of the ordinary Ivan?" He asked me.

"What do you mean?" I was still wheezing slightly, my frame strained the combat-stims.

"Anything unusual about the units you had faced?"

"Not really. They were badly equipped, though some of them were still good fighters" I grimaced as my side pulsated in pain "There were no witches though. That is unusual, now that I think of it. The Panpacific units usually are always accompanied by small cohorts of geomancers and telekines."

"Good observation, I will look for that in the files" The Astartes was standing still as the logs raced past his eye. Made for an awkward sight "How comes that the Panpacifics have such a vast amount of psykers to support such a standing army?"

"They breed them in vats. Disgusting subterranean towers filled with pulsating clusters made out of synth-skin and over-stimulated witch-wombs."

"Fascinating" Nathan was not as good at covering his distraction as he might have believed "How do you know this, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Our regiment, the Witchers, employed the same mechanics for breeding our own psykers up until a century ago" The labs were still in place, though abandoned and sealed "Our new leader had prohibited the use of such vile technology, as it relied on torturing and mutilating women. He chose to collect psychic infants from the Slavian population and have them trained in the White City. A small but precious amount of humanity in a world that can't truly afford it."

"I believe I have found something" Nathan didn't seem to listen. Pity.

http://i411.photobucket.com/albums/pp194/hodoalmir/_20161030_230723_zps5nguwcq0.jpg

 

"The reason why all the psychic forces were pulled back is both elegant and horrific" The Astartes' voice had a slight edge of discomfort to it "Dume intends to use their powers to destabilize the veil between the Otherworld and this world. The inbleeding of raw warp-energy could be potentially hazardous for much more than the Trench. It could isolate Terra again."

"I dont see the problem, we swoop in, behead a few psykers and then retreat, no?" It seemed easy enough, but there had to be a caveat.

"We could do that, especially since the congregation will be pretty exposed in the lower hive levels. However" Nathan meticulously cleaned his sword "The issue I see, is that we are too loud. The psykers would tear us apart before we even came close to them. I will petition for reinforcment."

"Who do we need? Who is more suited for this task than twelve blood-thirsty Panslavians and an Astartes?" Me and my unit banged a fist against our chest in unison.

"I admire your ferocity and pride" His impassionate mask somehow managed to radiate a sense of warm comradery "But this is a task for the Sisters of Silence and the Ghost Legion."

"The Ghost Legion" Did the Emperor employ spooky spectres now? "What is that?"

"Don't ask. You'll meet them soon enough. They've expressed interest in you and your unit."

http://i411.photobucket.com/albums/pp194/hodoalmir/_20161030_230635_zpsuenlsa3u.jpg

----------------------------------------------

 

So, Nathan Viové, Centurion of the Dusk Raider Legion is finished! Was a bunch of fun to paint and build, easily one of my most favorite expiriences :)

 

@MikhalLeNoir: Thanks mate, I've already sent you the recipe. But for everyone else, I will be making a tutorial as soon as I get my hands on some more Custodes!

 

@Andvarr A: Thanks friend :)

 

@Gorgoff: Thanks mate, we ain't slowing down on this train!

 

Hope you like Nathan! Have a nice day and leave a comment if you feel like it :)

 

C&C is, as always, appreciated!