Return to Prospero ++ The Fellblade Decree++

[Lord Commander Eidolon]

 

Quote

"The greatest tragedies and triumphs of Man are reflected in the Great Ocean, forming raging storms. Yet, unlike our own realm, these reflections are not bound by our limited appreciation of causality, for often times the unwary athereal traveller may be caught in storms formed by malign events that they have yet to experience, and in their struggling they find themselves inexorably drawn to that fate.”

 

Excerpt from the Book of Magnus

Corvidaen Retrospective – Fragment Recovered from the Ruins of Tizca

 

++ Personal Journal of Ahzek Ahriman, Chief Librarian of the XV Legion ++

++ Composed in the final months before Prospero’s fall ++

 

What century is this?

What world do I walk upon?

These questions plague me like half - remembered nightmares, drifting between what was, what is and what should never have been. And where, I ask the indifferent fates, are my companions of earlier endeavours—Jackalwolf and Augustus b’Raass, warriors steadfast and unyielding as the basalt fortress of the Aett? Where are Heinrich and Kizzdougs, brothers-in-arms who once stood beside me on the threshold of ancient knowledge? Where are KrautScientist and Dallo, fellow architects of possibilties, with whom I once debated the hidden geometries of the arcane?

 

—gone / lost / scattered / unfinished—
—they were never here / they were always here—
—find them or follow them—

 

These are not idle musings, but the symptoms of a mind fraying beneath too many futures. I feel unmoored from time, as though I drift between moments like a ghost lost in its own unmade death. Even now, as I set quill to vellum, I feel the shadow of fire licking at the edge of my thoughts.

 

My brothers are absent.

Some by distance.

Some by duty.

Some because I have pushed them away with warnings they do not wish to hear.

 

—you spoke truth / you spoke fear / they chose silence—
—all paths coil to the same ruin—
 

Where laughter and debate once filled the air, now silence reigns. Dust gathers on tomes no hand will ever open again. The light through the colonnades feels thinner each day, as though the sun itself is preparing to turn its face from the land.

 

I have walked these halls before, returned to them after long absences, but never have they felt so terminal. Never have they felt like a mausoleum for the living.

 

The mundane burdens of the Imperium have stolen years from me—petitions, decrees, inquisitions thinly veiled as councils of unity. All of it empty noise that dragged me further from my studies, my brothers, my Legion. And as my duties grew, my works faltered. Projects abandoned. Visions unmade. Creation surrendered to the creeping advance of dread I dared not name.

—name it—
—name the truth—
—the wolf with many faces, the doom with many teeth—

 

But even in a dying fire, sparks remain.

 

It was while poring through the cracked pages of the ancient Index Astartes records—those prophetic Terran works that speak of our doom with the certainty of history—that inspiration stirred once more. There, in ink older than many worlds, lay Prospero’s Lament. A tragedy written long before it occurs. A condemnation of Magnus. A betrayal penned in inevitability by hands that never knew us. How cruel it is to read the script of your own execution.

—you wrote some of it—
—you will write more—
—all fates are circles—

 

Still, I resolved to try again at the dawn of Heresy Edition Tertius—one final labour of creation before oblivion claims us. I would rebuild the Legion in miniature, not as others will remember us, but as we truly were beneath Magnus’s light. The vision has haunted me for a decade of Terran measure, mocked me with each failed attempt. Even the colour—the perfect red of our armour, the blood of Prospero’s proud spirit—refused to manifest beneath my hands.

I followed every formula.

Every ritual.

Every instruction passed down from the artisans of Forge World.

Yet the result was always flawed, as though the pigment itself knew the doom that approached and mourned it.

 

—the flaw is in you—
—the flaw is the future—
—the flaw is the last act—

 

It was only when I learned that the fault lay not in the paint, but in the final sealing—

the last act—

that I understood.

How fitting.

It is always the final act that damns us.

Enlightenment came from an unlikely source—the discourse-lodge calling itself Powerfist, whose counsel resolved my frustration with a single undeniable truth. A spark of clarity. A moment of illumination in the darkness that grows thicker with each passing day.

 

So I begin again.

 

I will recreate the Legion as Magnus intended it. Crimson clad Scholar Astartes, replete in Prosperine panoply, The warriors of Sabretooth’s old illustrations made manifest. The heroes of Ancient Tizca standing alongside me once more in the pursuit of Knowledge . The stalwart Prospero Spireguard in their proud regalia, humble in spirit yet proud in their duty. The Psy-Automata bound in perfect symmetry, adherent to the sacred Numerological rites of a time before Old Night . Perhaps even the tutelaries whose whispers grow louder as our world’s end draws near.

 

—we are here—
—we have always been here—
—you hear us now because the veil thins—

 

There is tragedy in this work.

Hope woven into despair.

A monument built in the shadow of its own destruction.

 

Join me, brothers—

whether in spirit, memory, or the echoing silence that will soon follow. Let us imagine a future where Nikaea’s chains never closed around our throats, where knowledge was not feared, where we rose not as exiles and heretics but as guides toward humanity’s awakening.

 

The Wolves are coming.

The city dreams its final dreams.

The ash has not yet fallen, but I can already taste its bitterness on the air.

Before Prospero burns, let there be beauty.

Before Tizca dies, let it be remembered.

Before all is dust, let there be this one last act of creation.

 

—all is not yet dust—
—but soon—

 

— Ahzek Ahriman

Chief Librarian of the XV Legiones Astartes

Keeper of the Book of Magnus

Seeker of what yet may be, and what may yet be saved.

 

All is not yet dust…..

 

++ End Transmission ++

 

 

Edited 12 hours ago by Lord Commander Eidolon
Revised Narrative and formatting

[Lord Commander Eidolon]

++ Entry: Reclamation Protocols Initiated ++

 

Corvidaen Journal – Fragment Concerning the First Reclamation

 

++ Personal Journal of Ahzek Ahriman, Chief Librarian of the XV Legion ++

With marginal distortions attributed to tutelary interference

 

The ravages of the flesh-change have brought my brothers low.

 

What began as promise—as evolution, Magnus once called it—has soured into horror. I have watched proud scholars, warriors of the mind and spirit, collapse into muttering abominations. I have listened to their pleas, their screams, their wordless gargles of terror as their bodies betrayed them. For all my foresight, all my gifts, all the long nights bent over tomes and data-slate alike…

 

I could not save them.

 

—You were too slow,
—Too proud,
—Too afraid to look where the skein frayed…

 

Not one expedition, but three, faltered beneath my oversight.

Three failures that stain my record as surely as the mutation stains their flesh.

Three reminders that even the Chief Librarian can fall into error, can allow hope to slip through his fingers like ash.

 

Times grew dark.

The Legion seemed lost, wandering blind toward a precipice only I could see.

 

—You saw nothing.
—We tried to show you.
—You would not listen…

 

And yet… even in the deepest night, there is the faintest glimmer before dawn.

A whisper of possibility.

A fragile sliver of hope.

 

—Hope is a lie.
—Hope is a door.
—Open it…

 

The path toward enlightenment is long—longer than a mortal lifetime, longer than any Legion’s span. Each ascent begins with a single step, and so I take mine now.

 

Before me lies a soul reclaimed from purgatory: a wounded brother dragged back from the brink of oblivion, pieced together from the remnants of old failures. Once consigned to dissolution of molecular cleansing, he is now reborn. Renewed not through sorcery, but through patience and craft—new sculpting, new shaping, new certainty in my hands.

 

An Achaean helm of ancient design.

A resin-wrought torso from the forges of Prosperine antiquity.

A tabard individually sculpted in quiet defiance to honour the rites and rituals of ages past .

 

From such fragments, an adept returns to the light.

 

—Light?
—Or fire?
—Can you tell the difference, Ahzek?

 

He shall stand once more among the fellowships, leading Tactical brethren into whatever future remains to us.

Brother-Sergeant Praedes—reborn, restored, and ready to carry the first spark of renewal into a Legion on the edge of dissolution.

 

The first step is always the hardest.

But it is also the most necessary.

And perhaps, if fate is merciful, it will not be our last.

 

—Mercy is a myth.
—But the path is open.
—Walk it, Seeker. Walk it before all is dust.

 

— Ahzek Ahriman

Chief Librarian of the Thousand Sons

Bearer of burdens not yet spoken, and hopes not yet extinguished.

 

++ Data-Note: Even the smallest spark may rekindle a legion ++

 

Reforging Prospero: A Thousand Sons Blog, Part I

 

Or: How a Bird Tried to Claim My Army for Tzeentch

 

So… I’ve done it. I’ve finally torn apart my old Thousand Sons project. Gone. Dusted. Reduced to a tragic pile of plastic shame in various states of “I swear this looked better in my head.”

 

To make matters stranger, a bird actually nested in the box I’d stored them in — right when I was planning to simply tinker with what I already had. When I discovered the nest and the bird eventually flew off, it had scattered Marines across the garden like some bizarre avian Chaos ritual. RIP, little plastic brothers.

 

Moral of the story: do not keep hobby projects on your deck. Ever.

 

Now, to be completely fair, the old paint scheme wasn’t hideous. It just wasn’t right.

It didn’t match the image I’ve carried in my head for years — that deep, rich, glossy, candy-coated Prospero red that Forge World models absolutely radiated. My version lacked contrast, the shadows were weak, the highlights collapsed into the midtones, and the varnish dulled everything into a sad blur.

 

So, into the stripping vat they went. No hesitation. No survivors.

 

This army has always been about the pursuit of perfection — the need to finally get the Thousand Sons right. My obsession with a pre-Heresy XV Legion army goes back to before the Black Books. Those early hints in the ‘90s Chaos Codex and the mysterious mentions of the Fall of Prospero absolutely captured my imagination.

 

The tragedy, the Shakespearian drama, the psychic grandeur, the feud with the Space Wolves — all baked into a Legion that was once so much more than dusty Automata. And with the Index Astartes article in the early 2000s? Yeah, that cemented it.

 

Maybe only now, with modern kits and better painting skills, do I finally feel ready to do them justice.

 

The Rant Section: MKVI Marines

 

Since I’m already warmed up… can we talk about the newer MKVI kits?

 

Technically, they’re beautiful. But the single-pose legs and torsos? A bit of a buzzkill. I miss the old multi-pose days — the kitbashing freedom, the endless customisation. And don’t get me started on the old Forge World Legion torsos… just that bit too small that you need to break out scalpels and attempt back-alley augmetic surgery just to make them fit the legs after removing the

needlessly attached front torso half!

 

Ah, hobby joy.

 

The Mojo Returns

 

Thankfully, there is hope.

I recently joined a Hobby Camp with sculpting maestro Anpharius and painting wizard Medders Miniatures, and it completely re-ignited the flame. I needed a new scheme, a new project as there was no sense learning a scheme I could do already. Thanks to the course and Powerfist Patreon I’ve picked up new sculpting tricks, learned a few green-stuff secrets, and walked away feeling genuinely excited about the project again.

 

I even treated myself to a shiny new Kratos Heavy Assault Tank, because honestly — who doesn’t love an unnecessarily large tank?

 

Before diving into the big toys though, I decided to start where every Legion begins: with the humble tactical squad.

 

The first Sergeant is already underway — resurrected, reworked, re-sculpted where needed, and finally representing the look I’ve been chasing all along. There’s something really grounding about starting with the infantry, especially after the chaos (literal and metaphorical) that this project has gone through. I shall name him after some of the old Sabretooth /Visions of Heresy Art. I hope this will become a theme, where the squad is named after the Sergeant, so Praedes Squad will be the first...

 

 

 

** Late Update, as I am immersing myself in the lore, I thought I'd embellish the story telling a little..... ***

Edited yesterday at 07:42 AM by Lord Commander Eidolon
Revised Narrative and Formatting of Blog

[Firedrake Cordova]

Oof, the sounds frustrating about the bird - are you sure it wasn't a miniature Lord of Change?  

[Lord Commander Eidolon]

++ Progress Report: Reclamation of the Lost ++

 

Corvidae Archive — Meta-Chronicle of the First Reclamation

Sealed Addendum to the Ahrimanic Reconstruction Project
Compiled by: Ahzek Ahriman, Chief Librarian of the XV Legion
With Anomalous Interference Recorded From: Unverified Tutelaries
 

By the Emperor’s will—or perhaps by the subtler, more insistent guidance of forces unspoken—I have succeeded in reclaiming several warriors from the shattered remnants of my former host. Once deemed failures, victims of the creeping madness of the Flesh-Change, these brothers now stand poised upon the threshold of rebirth, their destinies no longer resigned to the dust of forgotten vaults.

 

—they were never lost, Ahzek—
—only waiting—waiting for you to look back—

 

I told myself they were beyond saving.

 

Now I know that I merely feared to try.

 

These brothers stand once more upon the threshold of purpose, no longer abandoned to dissolution and dust. Their fates have shifted, if only by a fraction. Sometimes a fraction is enough to keep a soul from falling.

 

 

To honour their renewed purpose, I shall bestow upon them hand-sculpted tabards wrought in the style of our forgotten past—draperies shaped by hand and will alike, echoing the arcane splendour of ancient Tizca. A modest labour, perhaps, but essential: such embellishments banish the blandness of their prior forms and restore to them the dignity befitting sons of the Crimson King.

 

—dress the dead in beauty—
—so they remember how to live—
 

In truth, this work is more than simple embellishment. It is a continuation of the path begun with Brother-Sergeant Praedes, the first reclaimed warrior who rose from the ashes of my earlier failures. His rebirth marked the beginning of a greater pattern—one I did not, at the time, perceive. But the skein grows clearer now, strands tightening around my hands whether I will it or not.

Soon, the first sacred coats of crimson shall once more flow across ceramite. When the initial cohort has received its blessing, I shall bring the entire scheme to completion upon a single chosen exemplar—a test warrior who will serve as the herald of my revived vision for the XV Legion.

 

My tests of the red have proven effective—precisely what I sought, perhaps too precisely. Even now I feel the temptation to allow hope to bloom. But pride is a blade with two edges, and I have learned too well how swiftly a moment’s confidence can invite catastrophe. “Pride cometh before the fall,” the old Terran proverb warns.

And I know too much of falling.

Yet still I press forward.

 

Thus begins the rebirth—fragile, faltering, but real.

A spark struck against the gathering darkness.

A defiance whispered against the storm that draws ever nearer.

 

The Wolves have not yet come for us in this telling, not in this fragile recreation of memory and hope—but their footfalls echo through every future I cannot silence. And so I rebuild what I can. I reclaim what the Flesh-Change sought to steal. I restore what time and dread threatened to erase.

Thus the rebirth begins.

 

—begin, begin, begin—
—for soon all will end—

 

— Ahzek Ahriman
Chief Librarian of the Thousand Sons
Warden of half-spoken hopes, and the architect of his own damnation

 

++ May knowledge guide the hand, and purpose steady the brush ++

.

++ End Transmission ++

 

Resurrecting the Lost Sons (Again): A Fresh Batch Emerges

 

It seems my ongoing saga of Thousand Sons: Take Four continues, because I’ve managed to dig up — or more accurately, resurrect — a few more Marines from the ruins of my last ill-fated attempt at a XV Legion force. They’re a bit worse for wear, but nothing a little care, green stuff, and willpower can’t fix.

 

Luckily, these two had only reached the preshading stage before the project imploded, which means they’ve been spared the dramatic spa-day treatment in the stripping vat. A small victory, but I’ll take what I can get.

 

I’ve started adding a few green stuff sculpted tabards to give them that subtle character — nothing wild or overly ornate, just enough to break up all the armour plates and keep them from looking painfully plain. It’s amazing how much a simple bit of drapery and a change of shoulder pads can add to the overall silhouette of a Marine.

 

The real milestone ahead is colour. I’m lining up a test batch to finally lock in the full paint scheme on a dedicated tester model. This is the one that needs to nail that deep, glossy, candy-red finish I’ve been chasing for years — the mythical sheen that always looked perfect on Forgeworld’s studio models but somehow refuses to cooperate on my desk.

 

Fingers firmly crossed that this round finally clicks, because once that happens? It’s full steam ahead on proper squads, characters, and eventually the centrepiece Kratos waiting patiently in the wings.

 

For now, though, it’s back to the bench — a few rescued Marines, some fresh sculpted details, and the hope that this will be the iteration that finally lives up to the vision in my head.

 

The rebirth continues.

 

 

Edited yesterday at 08:04 AM by Lord Commander Eidolon
Narrative Update

[Brother Ezra]

Looking good so far! Very curious to see how you'll tackle the candy gloss effect. 

Also, the fact that a bird nested in your box of minis feels... weirdly appropriate for the Thousand Sons  Tzeentch certainly has its eye on you...

[Lord Commander Eidolon]

++ Archive Entry: The Tizcan Hue ++

 

Corvidaen Journal – Fragment on theRediscovered Ruby

Sealed Addendum to the Ahrimanic Reconstruction Project
Compiled by: Ahzek Ahriman, Chief Librarian of the XV Legion
With Anomalous Interference Recorded From:  Tutelary Apetio

 

 

Since the dissemination of the fated box set The Burning of Prospero—a title more ominous than its makers could possibly have known—the true Tizcan Ruby has remained maddeningly beyond my grasp. I sought to recreate it in honour of our lineage, yet the flat reds offered by the forges and manufactoria were hollow echoes of what once had been. Their surfaces were lifeless, mute, lacking the radiance that spoke of Tizca’s lost splendour.

 

It must be the ruby luster, then—the subtle gleam, the depth that shifts like sunlight upon still water. The prophets of the Pyrae often claimed that beauty is a warning, a prophecy in pigment and flame. Perhaps the lack of it was omen enough.

 

Flat reds lied.
Inks whispered falsehoods.
Ceramite rejected every attempt.

I searched through pigmentary tomes, esoteric formulae, the counsel of datavaults—and, in meditation, strained to hear Magnus’s distant voice.

Yet always the hue slipped free.
A dream fading.
A memory drowning.
A truth withheld.

 

 

—because you looked backward / not inward—
—the ruby hides until the hand is ready—
 

 

But now…

Now the strands begin to align.

The layers deepen like sunken relics.

The tones resonate with proper arcane geometry, each glaze settling into place with the quiet satisfaction of destiny fulfilling itself.

 

And for the first time in a decade of striving and failure, I sense that harmony of colour—the very heartbeat of Prospero—flutter against the surface of ceramite.

The red is finally on the correct path:

Prosperine, radiant, and worthy of the XV Legion.

 

—the colour remembers / the colour mourns / the colour awakens—

 

A small victory, perhaps.

And yet victories grow rare these days.

One must cling to them, however fragile they may be.

 

— Ahzek Ahriman

Seeker of What is Not Yet Lost

Last Witness to the Ruby of Prospero

 

++ The flesh of paint remembers; the spirit of colour endures ++

 

++ End Transmission ++

 

Forging the Crimson: Experiments in Candy Red Alchemy

 

So, this isn’t exactly a true tester model — mostly because a small graveyard of Rhino side panels has already been sacrificed to the cause — but I’ve been deep in the trenches experimenting with ways to add more depth and interest to the red. You get a far clearer sense of what’s working on a big flat surface than you ever do on a single Marine, so the spare armour plates have become my unwitting volunteers.

 

The method remains the same tried-and-trusted recipe: a dark-to-light silver preshade, followed by many (and yes, I really do mean many) thin coats of Tamiya Clear Red. The aim is to preserve that rich, candy-like depth while letting the metallic foundation breathe through. Once I hit the oils and transfers, I’ll knock the recesses back to a more matte finish, giving the whole piece a sharper contrast between shadow and gloss — the hallmark of that quintessential Thousand Sons sheen.

 

Those ultra-thin layers do more than just build colour, too. They allow the battle damage underneath to shine through, creating natural strata of wear. After a few coats, I went back in with some silver sponge chipping and edge highlights to start adding deliberate scuffs and scrapes. It’s painstaking work, and clear-red schemes are utterly unforgiving — there’s no hiding mistakes — but the layered effect is absolutely worth it.

 

Right now the panel is basking in full glossy glory, waiting patiently for transfers and a pin wash. Shiny, arcane, and just a little bit dangerous — exactly how a warrior of the Thousand Sons should look.

 

The alchemy continues

Edited yesterday at 08:56 AM by Lord Commander Eidolon
Revised Narrative

[Firedrake Cordova]

That really is a very rich red  

[Brother Ezra]

Beautiful work! 

[Lord Commander Eidolon]

++ Chronicle Update: The Reclamation Continues ++

 

Corvidaen Journal  – Fragment on the Stirring of the Legions

Tutelary interference detected and partially contained

 

The labour of reclamation endures.

It is sustained—perhaps even sanctified—by the counsel and encouragement of my brothers who toil beside me in the Great Work. Their words fall like embers into a dwindling fire: small, fragile things, yet enough to steady my purpose. Enough to remind me that no endeavour of value is ever accomplished alone.

Not even at the edge of ruin.

 

—you are never alone, Ahzek—
—we walk with you / beside you / behind you—
—always—

 

Within the leather-bound tome Inferno resides the hallowed chronicle of Prospero’s Fall—an echo of a tragedy still yet to come, and yet already etched into the fabric of fate. Its pages recount those bitter, incandescent days when the Thousand Sons stood steadfast against the Imperium’s wrath; when Tizca—our city of radiant glass, unbound enlightenment, and eager aspiration—was ground into ash beneath the Wolves’ merciless advance.

I read these words knowing they are prophecy disguised as history, and still my hands tremble.

 

—because you remember what has not yet happened—
—because you know the fire already waits—

 

In that same sacred volume, the esoteric livery and panoply of the Legiones Astartes are recorded with reverent precision: armour inscribed with wisdom; wargear etched with grief; relics forged from equal measures of glory and doom. It is not simply an archive of what we were—it is an epitaph for what we are fated to lose.

Guided by these venerable records, the Tech-Adepts labour now with a fervour I have not seen in years. Piece by piece, they restore the splendour of the lost Prosperine relics.
Each plate of armour polished.
Each sigil re-inscribed.
Each memory rekindled.

It is a work of devotion.
A rite of remembrance.
A refusal to let oblivion claim all that we were.

 

—remember us / remake us / we are not yet gone—

 

And yet the forges are not the only fires burning anew.

Across the long-fractured Fellowships, fresh aspirants gather beneath the dust-covered banners of their forebears. Veterans—some scarred in body, others in soul—return quietly to the rolls, drawn by the stirring of a destiny that refuses to die. The sons of Magnus rise once more, pulled from despair by purpose, from silence by duty.

This movement began with Brother-Sergeant Praedes, reclaimed from the brink of dissolution. It grew with two more brothers, restored and reshaped. And now it swells further, the skein vibrating with potential as the first Tactical Squad nears completion.

Soon, they will stand ready beside me.
Brothers once lost, now reclaimed.
Brothers always.

 

—until the ash falls / until the last fire gutters / until the end of endings—

 

All is not yet dust.
Not while memory burns.
Not while the sons of Prospero shape the future with their own hands.

— Ahzek Ahriman

Captain of the First Fellowship

Bearer of Memory, Maker of What Will Be

 

++ The flesh of paint remembers; the spirit of colour endures ++

 

++ End Transmission ++

 

++ From ashes, wisdom; from ruin, rebirth ++

 

The Red Returns: Trials, Triumphs, and a Betrayal by Masking Tape

 

I’ve been chipping away at the red again (pun very much intended), and the tank has finally had its pin wash before getting completely wrapped up for the black sections. And of course — of course — the gloss varnish chose that exact moment to stop doing its job. The masking tape was just tacky enough to lift a few layers of red clean off. A harsh reminder that cheap hobby tape is a false economy. So now I’m back to rebuilding the red coats, taking it slow, patient, and maintaining a respectful distance from anything destined to become black.

 

Before all that, the tank went through its ritual distressing: dremelled, scored, sliced, and generally bullied until it looked less like a pristine plastic kit and more like something that’s actually survived a few centuries of abuse. Some areas may look a bit blotchy because of the texture, but honestly? I kind of love it. I did the same thing on my Death Guard and adored the result. It might be slightly at odds with the whole candy-coat aesthetic… but this entire project is an experiment in “what if?” so we’re rolling with it.

 

Thanks again for all the likes and encouragement — it genuinely helps keep the momentum going. I’ve been chasing this exact paint scheme ever since Inferno released, so seeing it finally come together is incredibly satisfying. I’m still undecided on whether the whole tank should stay ultra-glossy, or whether the black areas should be knocked back a bit for contrast. I suspect I’ll need to sit there, cup of tea in hand, and overthink it for an evening — as one does.

 

While the MicroSet and MicroSol were already out for the tank, I took the opportunity to get transfers onto the freshly repaired and repainted tactical marines. They’re finally looking like a coherent squad again. Unfortunately they’re a nightmare to photograph thanks to all that gloss, but I’ll keep trying to get some decent shots.

 

More updates soon — assuming the tape behaves itself this time.

 

Edited yesterday at 09:13 AM by Lord Commander Eidolon
Narrative Update

[Brother Ezra]

It's shaping up nicely! Out of curiosity, how are you tackling the white, marble-esque parts?

[Firedrake Cordova]

Oof, the tape issues sound very frustrating.  I guess sometimes it's worth just sucking up the cost and getting the Tamiya tape.  

 

The physical weathering you've added to the vehicle works very well, and creates quite a distinct visual effect

[Brother Christopher]

I understand the frustrations all too well. Having said that, I dig the paint scheme - the colour choices, as well as the decision which sections to paint with what colour. The thin stripes, with the runes, extending to the top and bottom of the rear hatch are a particularly noce though.

 

I actually like the texture a lot. It's not a style that I'm most familiar with but it looks striking. 

[Lord Commander Eidolon]

On 11/9/2025 at 8:09 PM, Brother Ezra said:

It's shaping up nicely! Out of curiosity, how are you tackling the white, marble-esque parts?

It is the good old dried baby wipe technique. Essentially dry out a wipe, pull and gently tear it to make a template and airbrushed light grey over a black base. It tends to be trickier on flat panels as it’s more difficult to get a tight wrap - it is much easier on smaller bits like hatches or doors. Should I do this again I’d probably do that panel before assembling

 

On 11/11/2025 at 5:09 AM, Firedrake Cordova said:

Oof, the tape issues sound very frustrating.  I guess sometimes it's worth just sucking up the cost and getting the Tamiya tape.  

 

The physical weathering you've added to the vehicle works very well, and creates quite a distinct visual effect

Yes indeed, although to be fair it generally works ok on flat schemes. I think a more robust varnish may have been better or I should have let the paint cure longer. 
 

I’ve used the texture and chips on Death Guard before, but dirt and grime is expected. It’ll be interesting to see how it’d work on a candy scheme. There was a fair bit of unwarranted criticism of a ‘blotchy’ finish in Facebook which I found somewhat disappointing.

 

On 11/15/2025 at 2:16 AM, Brother Christopher said:

I understand the frustrations all too well. Having said that, I dig the paint scheme - the colour choices, as well as the decision which sections to paint with what colour. The thin stripes, with the runes, extending to the top and bottom of the rear hatch are a particularly noce though.

 

I actually like the texture a lot. It's not a style that I'm most familiar with but it looks striking. 

 

Well I can’t take too much credit for stealing the scheme from Inferno! I did actually try to add even thinner stripes but decided against it . I may however try to push it on further projects.

 

I’ve been doing the texture on tanks for a while now, I just find the smooth flatness of the plastic doesn’t quite fit a weathered armoured vehicle - plus it helps hide gaps or glue seepage!!  I could push it further with weld beads and rivets, but I struggle to finish things as it is!! Check out Nightshift on YouTube or the Cult of Paint series on the Fellblade if you want to know more…..

[Lord Commander Eidolon]

++ Artisan’s Chronicle: The Fellblade Decree ++

 

Corvidaen Journal  – Fragment on the Faltering Revival 

Tutelary interference escalating — prophetic dissonance detected

 

And so it is revealed—the faltering of the Land Raider was no mere lapse of will, no simple fatigue of the artisan’s hand, but a fracture in the tapestry of fate itself.
I feel it now as one feels the subtle tremor before a great edifice crumbles: the skein shifts,
and the future recoils from certainty.

 

—it recoils from you, Ahzek—
—from what you will choose / from what you will become—

 

I should have foreseen it.
I always should have foreseen it.
Yet the corvidae sight dims, its once-sharp visions smothered beneath a pall of unspoken omen.

What does it mean when even foresight shudders?

 

—it means the future fears to show its face—
—it means the thread is snapping—

 

My labours to restore my brothers proceeded in tandem with that of a Land Raider Explorator—meant to carry them into whatever wars remain. A venerable machine, its spirit dormant, its hull a relic of an earlier, more hopeful experiment to resurrect the Ruby of old.

Now it sits in stagnation.

 

The ceramite stands resplendent in its first covenant of red, yet unfulfilled—its detailing incomplete, its sacred oil-rites halted mid-incantation. The weathering litanies, half-formed in my mind, now drift like ash through my thoughts.

And the Tech-Adept artisans—once devoted, once tireless—have been reassigned by the direct, unmediated word of Magnus himself.

Such intervention is no trivial event.

 

—he sees further / he sees darker—
—he knows what you do not dare admit—

 

When my gene-sire turns his will upon the minutiae of craft, the strand of destiny trembles.

There is purpose in this.
There must be.

For now the Cult of Paint calls forth a challenge of superheavy consequence—their decree a ripple through the weave of possibility. The Fellblade emerges as if summoned from a buried prophecy, its birth insistent, its timing… ill-omened.

Is it meant as a weapon?
A warning?
A message, encoded in steel and pigment?

 

—it is all of these—
—and none—
—and more than you fear—

 

The armour plates of the Fellblade lie primed—etched, assembled, sanctified—awaiting their first immersion into Tizcan crimson. The method tested on the Land Raider shall serve again, yet this engine is no mere company relic.
It is a Legion asset, destruction made manifest:
a monolith of wrath,
a symbol of what once was—
and what may yet be demanded of us again.

 

But with each stroke of preparation, the whisper grows louder:

An army is built upon its sons, not its engines.
And how few sons remain.

Ten warriors only—ten!—stand in the armouries, their ruby plate gleaming but unfinished, their panoply devoid of the sigils that anchor purpose to form. Their bolters lie unblessed; their tabards unshaped.
They wait, silent and patient, for a future they may never be allowed to fight for.

Why now?
Why this diversion of effort?
Why place the weight of prophecy upon hull and gunmetal rather than flesh and brotherhood?

 

—because metal does not bleed—
—because metal obeys—
—because metal cannot change—

 

The truth circles me like a raven, wings brushing the edges of what I dare acknowledge:

This Fellblade—
is it a beginning?
Or the herald of an ending?

 

Still, I cannot deny the pull of fate’s thread.

The portents gather like storm-clouds over Tizca’s drowned towers.

Let them come.
Let the Cult’s decree be fulfilled.
Let the Land Raider rise completed, and let the Fellblade stride forth from the forge like an omen clad in crimson fire.

For whether this prophecy speaks of triumph or doom,
I will meet it with open eyes.

 

— Ahzek Ahriman
Chief Librarian of the Thousand Sons
Bearer of forebodings not yet spoken

++ For knowledge. For Prospero. For the Crimson King. +

 

Tiny Steps Forward (and Big Decisions About White Paint)

 

Thanks again for all the kind words — it really does help keep the motivation going!

 

Not a huge amount of progress on the Land Raider this week, but the plan is shaping up. I’m lining up another black pin wash before diving into the metallic sections, and after that it’s straight into the next round of chipping. Before I commit, I’ll probably test a couple of mixes on a spare panel — I can’t decide whether to stick with a classic silver for the chips or experiment with a slightly lighter metallic red. Both options sound good… which naturally makes choosing between them a bit of a nightmare.

 

Meanwhile, on the infantry front, I’ve finally got the red finished on a squad of ten tacticals — and now I just need to actually complete one of them. I’ve been stuck in tabard-colour limbo, debating shades like I’m picking wall paint for a renovation. Painting over Tamiya’s gloss finish is such a chore that I keep putting it off, but I think I’ve settled on a direction: a soft, creamy warm white for the robes, paired with a cooler white for the trim and bolter casings.

 

Call it painter’s block, call it decision paralysis — but I’m hoping that once the first test marine clicks into place, the rest will finally follow. More soon!

 

 

 

 

 

 

Because One Tank Clearly Isn’t Enough… Enter the Fellblade

 

And naturally, right in the middle of all this, the shiny new Fellblade dropped and Cult of Paint kicked off their Superheavy Challenge. So of course I had to jump in — who in their right mind sees a massive tank kit and says no?

 

The plan is to carry over most of the techniques I’m using on the Land Raider, but I’m also hoping to pick up a few new weathering tricks along the way. I’ve already tackled the pre-weathering: roughing up edges, adding texture and gouges, and working in some Mr Surfacer to break up those big flat panels. So far I’m more or less aligned with the first video in the series, which means from here on out I’ll basically be painting along step-by-step.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The current strategy? Get the Fellblade up to roughly the same stage as the Land Raider, then finish both beasts side-by-side. Which does mean, yes… I may end up with two fully painted tanks and still no actual Marines ready to form an army.

 

Classic hobby priorities, really.

 

 

Edited yesterday at 11:16 AM by Lord Commander Eidolon
Narrative Revision

[Brother Ezra]

I wish you strength for those Tacticals, brother! Maybe you could use a test model to test the colour for the tabard?

 

Looking forward to that Fellblade! How easy is it to assemble?

[Vairocanum]

Loving the models so far, but wow the paintjob on the tank is looking fantastic! Looking forward to seeing more of the infantry painted as well!

[Lord Commander Eidolon]

++ Artisan’s Chronicle: The Fellblade Awakens ++

Corvidaen Journal – Fragment on the Crimson Portent of the Fellblade

Tutelary interference at hazardous levels — malign echoes detected

 

And lo, as the voice of Magnus rippled through the hallways of creation and illumination—echoing first from the past, then rising like a half-remembered warning into the present—the labour upon the Fellblade did at last commence.

A part of me recognises the pattern, the subtle shaping of events, the quiet pressure of a will more ancient and immense than my own. Another part recoils.

Why this work?
Why now, when the fires gather at the borders of fate and the Legions close in like carrion birds?

 

—because he sees what you fear to see—
—because the ending begins, Ahzek—
—because the blade must bleed before the city burns—

 

But my father does not explain.
He rarely has.

And so I am left to wonder whether this path is truly his design—or merely the next misstep upon the long road to our undoing.

The Fellblade is no simple machine of war; it is a relic resurrected, reshaped to bear the Tizcan Ruby in its impossible brilliance. A marvel, yes. A testament, perhaps. And yet, to consecrate such a blessing demands a toll in labour, in material, in attention—souls and hours that might better serve a Legion slipping inch by inch into shadow.

Every stroke of the brush, every measured layer, every Prosperine invocation feels like a prayer offered with trembling hands.
Precision.
Patience.
Control.
Virtues we once mastered—before they slipped, like so much else, beyond our grasp.

 

—your hands tremble because they know what comes—
—red is the colour of ending, not beginning—

 

Thus were the Reddening Rites invoked.
And thus did the doubts coil tighter around my thoughts.

The colossal chassis was drowned first in the Silver Preshade—
a luminous veil, a false purity, a deceptive foundation of light upon which deeper colours might take hold.

Only by building upon this illusion may the true crimson rise.

The metaphor does not escape me.

We lay foundations of brilliance only to bury them beneath blood.
We always have.

 

—bury the light—
—feed it to the fire—
—you know the pattern; you wrote part of it—

 

In defiance of Magnus’s decree—quietly, discreetly, but unmistakably—I altered the orders.
I ensured the forges did not sleep.
That no resource was wasted.
That the materials intended for this engine of doom were diverted instead toward reforging the flesh-and-blood strength of the Legion.

He may envision a future of sanctified machines and compliant automata, but I have walked the paths where that future leads.

A Legion without souls is no Legion at all.
And we have lost too many already.

From dust-choked vaults, from the husks of abandoned failures, from wandering brothers who survived by miracle or stubborn will, ten more of the XV Legion now stand restored.
Some salvaged from my own misjudgements.
Some reborn and cleansed—if such a cleansing is ever trustworthy.
Some clad in ancient Mark II plate, their presence like ghosts walking back into the light.

Their return brings a flicker of solace.
A flicker—nothing more.

Even victory tastes of ash these days.

 

—ash is all that will remain—
—you taste the future on your tongue—

 

The need for warriors grows with each hour.

Prospero’s legacy hangs by a thread.
Its wisdom teeters on the brink of oblivion.
Its glory dims beneath gathering storms.
Its memory trembles in the jaws of those who would see it devoured.

So the work continues—unyielding, devouring, inevitable.

And though I walk this path willingly, I do so knowing each step carries me deeper into shadow.

Still, I will not allow Prospero to fall.
I will not permit the light of Tizca to gutter and die.

Let others call it stubbornness, arrogance, or the first whisper of doom.
I know better.

For without knowledge, there is only ignorance.
Without memory, only oblivion.
Without purpose, only the abyss.

And I have stared into that abyss before.

 

—it stared back—
—it remembers your name—
—it is waiting—

 

— Ahzek Ahriman
Chief Librarian of the Thousand Sons
Bearer of doubts unspoken, and architect of a destiny drowned in crimson veils

 

++ For the Crimson King. For the City of Light. For Knowledge Eternal. ++

 

An Unexpected Detour Into Iron Warriors… Sort Of

 

Well, it looks like an Iron Warriors tank has wandered onto the painting desk — completely unintentionally, I promise! It’s not a bad look at all, just a touch too bright at this early stage for the dour Fourth. Still, getting some paint down really helps show off all the texture work I put in earlier. From here I’ll start layering the red properly, then build in the surface scratches and edge highlights. It’s slow going, but once it all comes together, it’s absolutely worth the time investment.

 

On the build side, I have to say: the kit goes together shockingly well. Barely any gap filling required, which feels like a gift from the hobby gods after wrestling with the old resin versions. I’m still not totally convinced about some of the design tweaks compared to the classic Forge World sculpt, though. The rounded side doors in particular… hmm. If it weren’t for the gorgeous legion-specific ones, I’d be sorely tempted to fill them in and go for clean, flat panels.

 

Meanwhile, I took the opportunity to finish building (and repairing!) another ten tactical marines so I could batch-paint another wave of red all at once. Managed to squeeze in a few simple conversions along the way — a tabard here, a torso swap there — just enough to give the squad some personality. So before long I’ll have twenty very red, very basecoated troops lined up, all silently judging me as I return to wrestling with those cursed tabards.

 

I still need to refine the sculpting and choose the right shade of off-white for them, so a dedicated test model feels like the smartest next step.

 

As always, thank you all for the kind words — genuinely helps keep the hobby mojo flowing!

 

 

Edited yesterday at 11:57 AM by Lord Commander Eidolon

[Lord Commander Eidolon]

++ Artisan’s Chronicle: The Crimson Ascension ++

Corvidaen Journal – Fragment on the Crimson Convergence

Tutelary presence overwhelming — malignant resonance detected

 

As is above, so is below.

Such axioms bind the material and immaterial alike, and now they echo uneasily through my thoughts, shifting like the reflections of distant flames upon a darkened sea.

This unexpected challenge from the Cult of Paint must succeed—for so much of the Legion’s resurgence hangs upon it.
Or so Magnus believes.

Is he correct in the assumption?
Is this truly the thread upon which our fate must be suspended?

 

—he believes / you doubt—
—but doubt is the first truth you have ever owned—

 

It is not merely a test of craft.
It is a portent—one whose full significance lies shrouded from my sight.
I did not foresee it, and the absence of foresight is itself an omen sharper than any blade.

Still, the Great Ocean shifts, its tides turning without my bidding.
I must bend its currents to whatever purpose remains within my grasp.

Under my vigilant oversight begins the intricate, sacred labour of applying the Tizcan Ruby. Layer upon patient layer of clear crimson must be laid, each coat blessed by the devoted thralls and applied with excruciating precision by the artisans I have gathered. The process demands patience bordering on asceticism; only through repeated glazing can the hue deepen into its true Prosperine resonance.

 

—layer upon layer / lie upon lie / truth buried beneath blood—

 

When the correct shade at last reveals itself—glimmering with the promise of what once adorned the warriors of Tizca—the armour must be inscribed with gentle scars, the subtle tributes of battle and memory.
Only then may it be sealed beneath further crimson, each coat a ritual of renewal, preservation, and devotion.

I feel, with each stroke, the weight of remembrance pressing down upon my hands.

This is no mere undertaking; it is an enterprise of great pitch and moment.
Ordained or manipulated?
The fates are a fog to me now.

A labour through which our knowledge might shine above the mundane—
or a snare into which I walk willingly.

In seeking guidance, I gazed once more into the Great Ocean, scrying its shifting currents for a whisper of purpose. And there, half-shrouded in the aether, I saw the alignment of this Fellblade decree—inevitable, immutable, as though preordained by forces whose workings lie forever beyond mortal comprehension.

 

—preordained—
—pre-written—
—pre-damned—

 

And yet…

Still I ask myself: why?
What design compels this convergence of timing and circumstance?
What destiny is being drawn taut between this crimson labour and the doom that stalks the Legion’s shadow?

 

—you know the answer—
—you fear to name it—

 

The truth eludes me.
The skein grows silent in my hands.
Foresight recoils from the place where this thread leads.

But the work must proceed—
even if it drains the hours meant for my brothers,
even if its completion comes at their expense.

A Fellblade will be a boon in the battles yet to come.
Or perhaps one more delaying gesture against the unraveling of all we are.

 

—delay is not salvation—
—delay is merely witnessing your doom in slower motion—

 

The crimson waits.
Destiny stirs beneath each layer of red.
And the challenge has been set.

The Cult of Paint must not be denied.

 

— Ahzek Ahriman
Magister Templi Corvidae

Seeker of That Which Cannot Be Found

 

++ In each layer, a memory; in each shade, a legacy reborn ++

 

The Reddening Begins (For Real This Time)

 

Well, as entertaining as that accidental Iron Warriors phase could’ve been, the reddening has officially begun! I’m four coats in now — just enough to start building those subtle pre-highlights and the first hints of underlying chipping. The goal here is simple: layer upon layer upon layer, until the wear and tear looks properly aged, lived-in, and befitting a battle-scarred relic of Prospero.

 

It’s a painstaking process — and, as always, one that refuses to photograph well — but the depth it adds in person is absolutely worth it. Only another dozen or so layers to go… easy, right?

 

On the infantry front, I’ll be getting the red down on the waiting Tactical Marines as well. At least that way I’ll have a few actual troops to accompany the very large, very shiny tank currently stealing all the attention.

 

Edited yesterday at 12:16 PM by Lord Commander Eidolon
Revised Narrative

[Vairocanum]

The red on the tank is coming along nicely! Had no idea it took that many layers to build up the colors 

[Brother Ezra]

Looking good so far! Do you already have a name for the Fellblade? Or will that be bestowed once the painting is completed? 

[Firedrake Cordova]

The weathering on the red looks great with all the little scrapes and abrasions

[Lord Commander Eidolon]

On 11/28/2025 at 6:14 PM, Vairocanum said:

The red on the tank is coming along nicely! Had no idea it took that many layers to build up the colors 

Absolutely — the red really is a labour of love. With it thinned 50/50 (at least), it takes a fair few layers to build up that richness. If I skipped the pre-scratching and edge highlights it’d probably take half the time… but where’s the fun in that? When you’re batching a bunch of stuff at once the pain kind of spreads out anyway.

 

On 11/30/2025 at 9:29 PM, Brother Ezra said:

Looking good so far! Do you already have a name for the Fellblade? Or will that be bestowed once the painting is completed? 

 

I’ve also been mulling over names — because a Lord of War needs a proper name. In fact, I got so set on it that I actually scrubbed the old name off my Kratos as it didn’t match the theme. I’ve got some non-GW lettering decals ready, and I’m pretty tempted to christen this one Khatek. Sure, it’s technically a Sons of Horus vehicle name from the old Heresy CCG, but honestly? It just sounds too good not to use.

 

On 12/3/2025 at 3:53 AM, Firedrake Cordova said:

The weathering on the red looks great with all the little scrapes and abrasions

 

Glad the scrapes are appreciated! Sometimes it feels like pure madness when I add another four layers of red and watch them disappear… only for them to ghost back through in the final depth of the colour. But that’s the whole point — suggesting layer upon layer of old scars and accumulated wear. All up, there are about three rounds of scuffs after the first red pass alone!

[W.A.Rorie]

looks Top notch! 

[Lord Commander Eidolon]

++ Artisan’s Chronicle: The Crimson Ascension ++

Corvidaen Journal – Fragment of the Whispered Red

Tutelary intrusion: severe. Malign harmonics detected across the skein.

 

The Great Work proceeds with unwavering momentum.

 

In accordance with venerable treaties struck in ages past, the forge-lords of Zhao-Arkhad have once more turned their arcane insight toward my labour. Their masteries of alchemical lacquer, spectral lumens, and forbidden metallurgies have refined the process beyond what even I had envisioned. Under their guidance, yet more details emerge upon the Fellblade’s august form—textures layered within textures, sigils nestled between deepening strata of crimson, each one aligned to Prosperine geometry.

 

The ritual unfolds in its sacred cycle:

• serfs lay the blessed coats of ruby glaze,

• artisans follow, etching, embossing, and inscribing runic impressions,

• the sequence repeats—fifteenfold, as Prosperine numerology demands.

 

Only when the fifteen layers are complete may the hue be judged worthy of the Sons of Magnus.

 

—fifteen for the Legion / fifteen for the lost / fifteen for the pyre to come—

 

Now the majestic candy-red of the XV Legion shines resplendent across the venerable chassis.

In honour of the ancient tarot of Prospero, the Fellblade Khatek shall stride once more into war—restored, sanctified, its destiny aligned with auguries best left unspoken.

 

Soon, the Captains of the Rehati shall convene in esoteric conclave to determine the sacred runes, the markings of omen and purpose, that must adorn the great engine. These glyphs shall bring illumination to the battlefield and ensure the light of Tizca remains unbowed. For the Fellblade is now replete in true Tizcan Ruby—a colour I had thought irrevocably lost in the burning of our home.

Years of toil and study now at last bear fruit.

Perhaps enlightenment must be born of suffering—

perhaps the hue would not feel so poignant had it come with ease.

It is a sight that stirs the soul, awakens possibility.

The perfected red gleams upon its armoured shell like captured dawnlight.

 

And yet… even amidst this triumph, unease coils within my thoughts.

 

—pain is the tutor / perseverance the price—

—beauty is only ever born in ruin—

 

Yet we stand upon a precipice, and must tread with caution.

 

Will the Primarch and the Legion turn their devotion toward machine and metal—

or toward the rebuilding of flesh and brotherhood?

To recreate this splendour upon the armour of my brothers will be but a small step.

 

—choose carefully / one path ends in silence / the other ends in fire—

 

My quiet countermanding of Magnus’s decree—my redirection of resources toward the reclamation of warriors rather than war-engines—has borne unexpected fruit:

 

more brothers returned.

Souls dragged back from the brink of dissolution.

Failures undone.

Their armour once more clad in crimson.

 

Humbling… and dangerous.

 

For every triumph strains the skein.

 

But the Legion’s armourers have not allowed their labours to wane.

Serfs and armouring-servitors toil without cease to restore another squad of Thousand Sons:

• some clad in venerable Mark II plate, veterans of bygone campaigns,

• others the returning survivors of ill-fated crusades, their Mark VI armour reforged, purified, and strengthened.

 

They stand ready once more to enter the fray—

not for conquest,

but for the gathering of knowledge vital to the uplift of mankind.

 

—uplift? or hubris?

—rebirth? or inevitability?

—the red tells the truth; listen to what it whispers beneath the paint—

 

The Whispered Red has manifested.

And with it, a new omen rises.

 

— Ahzek Ahriman

Magister Templi Corvidae

Bearer of whispered truths and architect of crimson fate

 

++ In each layer, a memory; in each shade, a legacy reborn. ++

The Reddening Is Complete!

After many, many layers of thinned red, the Tizcan hue I’ve been hunting since first seeing the old Forge World Burning of Prospero display has finally emerged. The photos never quite capture it, but in person the colour is far deeper and glossier — a proper shimmering candy coat. That’s what about fifteen layers gets you! Numerology satisfied, Thousand Sons approved.

 

I’m honestly really pleased with how it’s come together, especially since the white marble sections survived the process without any major bleed-through. I went in hard with tape and masking fluid to protect them, and for once the hobby gods rewarded my paranoia.

Now comes the fun part: deciding on accent colours. I’m leaning toward the black and gold striping like the scheme I used on the Rhino — it ties things together nicely, and avoids clashing with the white marble already on the tank. That does rule out the Warhammer Community Fellblade style, but between the marble and the sculpted door, it just wouldn’t sit right. If I go with black pinstripes, though, I’ll need more than the simple three lines from the Rhino to balance the larger armour panels.

 

So, with the red singing and the marble crisp, it’s time for stripes, decals, and panel lining. Everything is happening at once — in the best hobby way.

I’ve also used the downtime between layers productively: another ten Tactical Marines are now fully candied up and waiting for transfers. A satisfyingly large decal session is in my near future. I will attempt to get some more pics of the mass of marines up, it is just difficult with them all being on corks! It’s great to finally see momentum… though we still need to get an actual finished model over the line!

 

More progress soon — Prospero wasn’t built in a day, after all.

 

 

 

 

Edited 12 hours ago by Lord Commander Eidolon
Format Chronicle Text