Kilted Marines

[Barret]

*shakes fist at Argyles*

 

:)

 

 

Ya know, Im kinda suprized no one from GW has noticed this yet. Hmm..

 

 

That would be t3h 4w3s0m3. :)

 

 

I almost have my entire 1700 point army built and ready for painting. Four more Scouts to assemble and everybody's there... I just need to find my battery charger so I can take pics...

 

 

 

As for more fluff...I'll see what I can do tonight... :D

[TheDeinonychus]

Hmm... More fluff?

 

Let me sleep and when I have turkey to think over I'll see what I can do..

[Barret]

Here's the compiled IA article I made out of the stuff previously posted. I made a few minor edits/changes/additions.

 

 

 

Index Astartes: Sons of Dagda

 

 

++Chapter Name++: Sons of Dagda

++Chapter Founding++: Twenty-Fifth (unconfirmed)

++Chapter Master++: Nuada Silverhand

++Chapter Symbol++: Black stag's head on golden field (see Colours of the Sons of Dagda, below)

++Chapter Geneseed++: Ultramarines (unconfirmed)

++Chapter Heraldry++: Halved dark green and golden (see Colours of the Sons of Dagda, below)

++Chapter Battlecry++: Varies by Clan-Company (see Battlecry, below)

++Chapter Homeworld++: Dagda

++Traits++: Varies by Clan-Company (see Combat Doctrine, below)

 

 

Origins

 

A mere 16 centuries old, young by the standards of many other chapters, the Sons of Dagda didn't so much adapt the local population to the Imperial way of life as the local population adapted the Marines to their's. Fiercely independent but loyal, the new marines raised from the local population banded together with others from their original clans, causing the companies of the chapter to be reorganized thusly, each one able to work separately from the main chapter, but each one loyal to their chapter master. Largely overlooked by the rest of the Imperium since their founding, the autonomous nature of a marine chapter allowed the Sons of Dagda to operate of their own will, defending their home and surrounding worlds from the enemies of mankind. Most notably were their conflicts with the Red Corsairs, repelling numerous invasions of their home world, standing defiant against the encroachments of Chaos. To those from within the chapter, it was no surprise that when the last Black Crusade spilled from the Eye of Terror, that several companies of the Sons of Dagda chose to take part in the conflict. For the rest of the Imperium this reappearance of the chapter was something of a shock. Perhaps enough of a shock that the chapter did not see much action in this conflict, though what action they did take part in was well recorded. Of the records from such battles, it was noted that "..the Sons of Dagda, these marines from this long-forgotten world, were like devils upon the battlefield. Their howling and helter-skelter charging not unlike the blood frenzy of the Blood Angels, or the wild berzerking of the Space Wolves. Every man of them seems to be familiar with the tools of his trade, by which I speak of the varied implements they engaged the enemy in close combat with. Swords taller than the marine who wielded them, great crushing axes long enough to cleave the turrets from tanks, and every battle-brother without such strange weaponry carried a chainsword, down to the last man. A very unrefined method of war, but one which the executed to perfection."

 

The Chapter Today:

Today each company of the chapter has taken command over one of the great clans of the planet Dagda. There is no longer open war between the clans, but the strong independence of each company has brought about a strong sense of competition between them. This has given rise to numerous ways for one company, also called Clans amongst the battle-brothers, to 'one up' the others, and numerous rivalries have come about. These include pranks of various sorts, competition for trophies upon the field of battle, but none as grand as the Games. Deep in the highlands of the planet, near the chapter fortress, which houses the chapter Master and the 1st company, there is a great arena, comprising an entire valley amongst the mountains. It is on this great field that members of each Clan not currently engages in war gather and compete in various grueling, often deadly events, each one proving the strength and prowess of his Clan above the others. These events are held every decade, and a marine can expect to take part in these games numerous times before he dies in battle or is no longer able to compete. These Games are held perhaps to stem any animosity between the Clans, lest they break into open war among each other. But each Clan has in it's sights the prize, the honor of carrying the first Chapter banner, brought from Holy Terra itself to the planet. It is considered no dishonor to loose, for surely the winner was preordained to win by his own prowess and by the will of the Emperor, though often those Clans who fall short of victory are eager to be sent off into battle, hopeing to strengthen themselves for the next Games and to prove themselves in actual combat.

 

As the name of the Sons of Dagda slowly starts to spread through the Imperium, it was no surprise that their less that rigid discipline would produce some conflicts with other Imperial forces. The Space Wolves, obviously, share the Sons of Dagda's spirit of independence, and while there have been no official relations between the two chapters, any meetings between the two are generally accompanied by tests of strength, competitive brawling, and the consumption of much alcohol. The Blood Angels, while somewhat disdainful of their ruckus nature, hold the Sons in high respect for their fierceness in battle. Perhaps their worst relation among other marine chapters is with the Ultramarines. In the eyes of the Ultramarines, the Sons represent the worst negligence of the Codex. To the Sons of Dagda, the Ultramarines are the ultimate conformists, unflexing even should the situation call for such actions. These sentiments have even causes some Ultramarine commanders to request Inquisitorial involvement against the Sons of Dagda, though to this date no action has been taken against the chapter on the part of the Inquisition. When the two chapters are called to battle together, on many occasions the Ultramarines have engages the enemy only to find the Sons of Dagda already fighting far ahead of the engagement zone, having delayed the information form getting to the Ultramarine commanders

 

Home World

 

While there are many deadlier worlds in the Imperium of Man, Dagda, located in the Segmentum Tempestus southwest of the galactic center, with it's deep forests, treacherous bogs, and sprawling hills and mountains boasts many hidden dangers. Despite this, Imperial records show that early on Dagda was selected for colonization as an agri world, intended to harvest the rich forests and transform the landscape into vast farms. For some unknown reason, there was never any other mention of the planet in Imperial records, and it seems that the colonists just disappeared from all records. Things would perhaps continued this way had it not come to the attention of the Imperium that Dagda had become the target of a small ork war fleet, intent on stripping Dagda bare of resources before moving further into Imperial Space. With most other Imperial forces occupied elsewhere at the time, it was decided to send in a newly raised Marine Chapter, with orders to repel the ork raiders and establish Dagda as their home world. The conflict was long and bloody, depleting over half of the fledgling chapter's resources. Once the ork threat was averted, the arriving marines found what had happened to the lost colonists. It seemed that some mishap in transit had caused the loss of their craft, along with most of their equipment and supplies in the vast ocean that covered much of the planet. Stranded on this world the colonists returned to a more simple way of life, sustaining themselves at just above an almost feral level of civilization. The colonist families in the years since their arrival had grown and separated form each other, forming large groups in an organization of clans, each one independent of the others, consisting of related or otherwise close-nit families. This independence among the clans often developed into warfare between them, over resources or territories. This way of life had produced people who were tall, proud, and above all, fierce and loyal to their clans. It was from this stock that the new chapter decided to draw their new recruits, and came to take their name and heraldry from. And thus the Sons of Dagda were born.

 

Combat Doctrine

 

In general terms, combat doctrine is basically the same across all the Clan-Companies of the Sons of Dagda: get into close quarters with the enemy and rip apart their lines in close combat. Speedier elements are also uncommon across the Chapter. Much of the more specialized kit was lost in the initial battle to rid Dagda of the Ork menace, and the native Dagdans have little experience with or use for mounted warfare, and this prejudice has carried over into the Chapter. However, each Clan-Company varies the way they approach this basic tenet. The McKenzies, for example, are noted for bold approaches and particularly vicious charges, while the McGregors have been long recorded as attacking from ambush, preferring to sneak close into enemy lines before leaping on their started prey.

 

In battle, Clan McKenzie believe strongly in fighting their enemies on level ground. Often using long-ranges support to actually force their opponents closer into the deadly reach of their front lines, hammering their reserves with barmbardments from Whirlwinds and Vindicators, cutting off any lines of retreat. It's often said that the Clan isnt satisfied with their victory till they've severerd the head from every opponent. The racks of skulls often displayed as a warning to would-be heretics seems ample proof. Veteran members of the Clan often carry the heads of particulary worthy opponents chained or strapped to their armor, a tradition grown out of an ancient pre-chapter belief that the severed heads would scream at the approch of their kin. Battle-brothers often paint their faces with red and blue warpaint before a battle.

 

The Black Watch and McKenzie Clan-Companies use the Traits "No Mercy, No respite", "Take the Fight to Them", "Eye to Eye", and "Have Pride In Your Colors".

 

On the battlefield, the McGregors under Malcolm McGregor favour sudden attacks, pounding an unsuspecting enemy with long-range firepower before the warcry-screaming mass of infantry jumps on the reeling enemy. The Missile Launcher is heavily favoured by McGregor Devastator Squads, though it is a dearly-held belief amoung the other Clans that this is not because of the Missile Launcher's effectiveness or flexibility, but because Captain 'Wolfman' likes all the explosions, and believes them to be devastating to enemy morale. Ambush is a historically favoured tactic of the McGregors, both the Clan-Company and the native Dagdan clan, and they are infamous for their refusal to use Droppod attacks.

 

The McGregor Clan-Company use the Traits "Take the Fight to Them", "See, But Don't Be Seen", "Eye to Eye", and "Die Standing".

 

Organization

 

The Sons of Dagda, like other marine chapters, are organized into 10 companies, in this case called 'Clans'. Unlike other chapters which adhere strictly to the Codex Astartes, each clan is a near autonomous formation. Each clan contains it's own scout squads, tactical squads, assault and devastators, as well as it's own armory for support. Each company Clan draws it's recruits from one particular clan of the population, another reason for each company's tight-nit nature and independence. Since each member of a company is from the same clan, they all display the traditional plaid wrappings used by the population, called tartans. These tartans are worn over a marine's power armor in loose wraps across the waist, with the remaining fabric slung over the shoulder, tucked under the shoulder pads. In harsh conditions these tartans can be used to construct tents, carry supplies, wrap wounds, provide protection from the rain, and numerous other emergency uses. One tartan used by a Veteran Sergeant of the 5th company measured well over 15 square yards of fabric.

 

Each Clan is lead by a Commander, or Clan-Chief, who in turn defers to the Chapter Master and other members of the Black Watch. Each Commander leads his company in a similar way as the Chapter Master leads the entire chapter, with his own practices and unique methods of combat. Among Commanders of the different Clans, rivalries often begin, though usually they are nothing more than wild boasts or competition for battle honors. Rarely do these rivalries erupt into full out violence between Commanders. In such events the Chapter Master and Black Watch members are quick to put an end to events.

 

Characters such as Librarians and Chaplains in each Clan are actually members of what is known as the Black Watch. This is actually the 1st Company of the chapter, along with the commanding body of the chapter. In the case of Librarians, Techmarines, and Chaplains, each one is assigned to a particular Clan, usually the original one they were recruited to, though in some instances it may become necessary to move one such individual to another Clan cause of battle losses. While this is rare, the Commanders of such Clans often do not feel as if the 'fosterling' belongs until he has proven himself in battle.

 

Specialist officers like Apothecaries, Librarians, Chaplains and Techmarines are, like every other Marine, recruited into their related Clan-Company. When they display the skills, aptitude or resolve needed, they are seconded to the respected division for apprenticeship. After they have recieved their initial training they are returned to their Clan-Company until such time as they have proved themselves worthy of joining the elite Black Watch. (In game terms, lower-rank Chaplains and Librarians and Techmarines without Terminator Armour or a servo-harness would still wear their Clan-Company tartan. Otherwise, they are members of the Black Watch. Apothecaries can be either.)

 

The 1st company of the Sons of Dagda, like in other marine chapters, is formed from veterans taken from other companies. In the Sons of Dagda, this company is known as the Black Watch, named so for the black tartans they wear. They belong now to no Clan, rather to the chapter as a whole. Among battle-brothers, this is seen as as much an honor as in other chapters, being chosen for a higher calling in a sense. The Chapter Master, his routine, and immediate subordinates are also members of the Black Watch. This is in part to prevent any one Clan from feeling as if they have an advantage above the others, and to denote that the Chapter Master has unquestionable leadership over the entire chapter as a whole, not just a single Clan. While members of other Clans generally bear the family name of their Clans, since members of the 1st Company are essentially clanless, they drop their family names from their titles. Usually they just leave off the identifying part of their names, leaving the 'Mc' or 'Mac'. For example, Brother William McKenzie from the 2nd company would be known as Brother William Mc, and Brother Douglas MacGregor would be known as Brother Douglas Mac, upon joining the 1st Company.

 

As well as being denoted by their tartans, each Clan within the chapter is known by name, the same as the clans they were raised from. While the 1st company is clanless, the 2nd and 3rd are perhaps the best known of the Clans. These are McKenzie and McGregor, respectively.

 

2nd 'McKenzie' Clan-Company

 

Clan-chief: George "Bloody" McKenzie

 

Tartan:

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v356/TheDeinonychus/mackenzie-mod-200.jpg

 

Clan-company Emblem: A mountain on fire

 

Company Motto: "Death Before Dishonor"

 

The 2nd Clan-company is lead by a man rightfuly called George "Bloody" McKenzie. He earned this dubious title durring the clensing of Madril V, where he ordered that half of the captured heretics were to be burried under the weight of the bodies of the other half. This act is only one of the events that lead to him being dubbed "Bloody" and his reputation for ruthlessness. Unlike others of the chapter he has a calmness about him, which coveres a burning rage which he saves for those that earn his anger. He is one of the we men outside of the Black Watch that Malcolm "Wolfman" McGregor, Clan-chief of the 2nd company, will not argue with, on account of the particuarly brutal brawl between the two which happened the last time these two argued. In battle, George "Bloody" McKenzie lives up to his name, almost always chargeing ahead of his company, dispite the bulk of his Tactical Dreadnought Armor, twin poweraxes cleaveing limbs around him, often bisecting his opponents across the middle, which seems to be his perferd method of dispatching opponents. When not in battle, he often retreats into the structure which has come to be called the Black Mausoleum, a building of black stone built deep in the highlands controlled by the Clan-company. This place is a macarb gallery, it's walls lined with the severed limbs and heads of heretics, mutants, and xenos, all feld in battle by the 'Bloody One'. Some say that he is reaching the end of his leadership, pointing to his time spent among these visions of death and remembrance of his past victories as proof. None would say such things to his face for fear of his anger. While it may be true that George "Bloody" McKenzie sees the end of his days approching, none denie that his path has become as bloody as ever. Developing a rekindled thirst for combat against the enemies of the Emperor, he is always eager to bring his Clan to the front of any conflict. His Clan-brothers follow him as a shinning example of martial prowess and a figure of great wisdom in his advanced years. It is unknown wether or not unpon his fall in combat he will be interned within the holy shell of a dreadnought, but rumors of an unused framework within the Chapter's fortress persist whenever George "Bloody" McKenzie's name is mentioned.

 

The McKenzie clan was perhaps the most war-like of all the great clans before the comming of the Chapter, and it is only natural that the Clan-company raised from these people would share the same thirst for combat. Only once has the Clan been unable to take part in the Games, and it's said that the Eldar suffered greatly for it. The lands controlled by the Clan are primaraly highlands, great expanses of rolling hills and craggy mountian tops, dark vallies and hilltop glades. A breathtakeing land when seen from afar, a dangerous one when near. The woods that litter the vallies are filled with large wolves and monsterous boar. Among the dangerous creatures of these lands is one known as the skull-bear. An ursine standing three times the height of a man, it's head is covered in boney growths giving it the appearance of a skull. These beasts had been known to charge into villages, carrying off grown men. It is a rite of passage among the Clan-company for scouts to track and kill one of these creatures, armed only with their combat knives. Many do not return with the prized skull and pelt, marks of honor among the scouts and sure acceptance into the trust of their marine brothers.

 

3rd 'McGregor' Clan-Company

 

Clan-Chief: Malcolm "Wolfman" McGregor

 

Tartan: "Red" Rob Roy McGregor

http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y36/ElcidBarret/Sons%20of%20Dagda/mcg-robroy.jpg

 

Clan-Company Emblem

http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y36/ElcidBarret/Sons%20of%20Dagda/MacGregor.gif

 

Company Motto: 'S Rioghal Mo Dhream "Royal Is My Race"

 

The Clan-Chief of the McGregor Company is Captain Malcolm McGregor, widely called The Wolfman. He earned this nomiker not for his battle practices or fighting style, but for his appearance and his behaviour. He is a monomanical leader, preferring to make up his mind on something, and then bull-headedly charge forwards, never doubting his decisions or opinions (which he frequently has difficulty seperating from actual facts) and deterring any who would argue with him by verbally attacking their own intelligence and ability to counter his arguements and, most of all, by shouting. When not actively leading his Company in battle, 'Wolfman' McGregor is prone to frequent and extended bouts of misanthropy, dissappearing into the scrubland that dominates Dadga for long periods of time and reappearing only when called to battle or when he feels he needs to correct someone else's (in his opinion) grevious mistakes. He is irascible, stubborn and possessed of an incredibly caustic sense of humour that he finds utterly entertaining, and a habit of pontificating and holding forth at great length on things he's decided are of great importance to the galaxy. His equals and subordinates have learned to either ignore his deliberate provocations and offensively sweeping generalizations about other peoples' character, which generally makes him cantankerous and bad-tempered, but, thankfully, quiet, or to respond to him in kind, which delights him and pushes him into more extensive attempts to dominate all interactions around him. His is nortoriously and consciously neglectful of his appearance, and is as legendary for his scruffy beard and unkempt hair as he is for the incredibly pungent cigars he is never without, even in the heat of battle. In battle, he leads by example, devising a plan of attack, seeing that it is executed, and then taking his command retinue and plunging headlong into the thickest fighting, always looking for the fiercest combatants and the biggest Xeno monsters. When forced onto the defensive, he takes an almost sadistic delight in forcing an enemy to wear themselves out just to reach his forces to engage in combat, and then springing forward in a savage close-assault with his fresh troops. Malcom McGregor is widely known and occasionally respected for the almost childlike glee he takes in combat, and has been known to watch a broken enemy flee from atop a mound of the dead and cackle maniacally with the satisfaction of defeating a foe. He wields a great, two-handed claymore that he uses to cleave through flesh and armoured hulls alike.

 

Throughout the history of the Sons, McGregor Company has been notorious for independant, irreverant behaviour that have earned them endless reprimands, both from other Imperial agencies, and from the Chapter commanders. It is an unofficial tradition of 3rd Company that before a Scout can truely be inducted into Clan McGregor, he must prove his determination with a 'crime' against another Clan-Company, typically involving elaborate practical jokes against members of the victim Clan's officer corps or staged embarrasments of the target Clan. No McGregor officer will ever (and has never, despite endless questionings) admit to even knowing about the young Marine's actions, let alone any reason behind them, even though it is frequently the superior officers, even the McGregor Clan-Chief, who chose the targets.

 

While inter-Clan rivarly is an integral part of life in the Sons of Dagda, it is largely done with a great sense of comraderie and humour. The McGregors, however, take that rivarly to a higher level, never more so than under the rule of Captain Malcolm, frequently becoming spiteful and vicious in revenge when they are the targets of the pranks and embarrasments they inflict on others, and countless McGregors have been disqualified and reprimanded for 'fighting dirty' or with a highly unneeded level of violence in the inter-Clan competitions. Indeed, there have even been incidences of such organized and wide-spread internecine aggression from the McGregors that the entire Clan has been sent on a penitence crusade, not that it's cowed their behaviour for any length of time.

 

The McGregor emblem is the crowned red lion head on a brown field, and Malcolm McGregor's personal hereldry incorporates the Giant Moose, an adapted version of the ancient Terran herbivore, known on Dagda as a solitary, ornery and bad-tempered animal mean enough to crush a man with one blow from their massive antlers, and breath foul enough to do much the same. Their meat is prized by the natives of Dagda as an uncommon treat, so hard is the animal to hunt.

 

The original Clan McGregor of the natives of Dagda has a long and violent history. They settled in the extreme northerly mountainous areas, a cold, arid land of scrub and sparse boreal forest, prone to raging forest fires in the dry summers, and bitter cold during the long, dark winters. The natives of the Clan maintain, to this day, that they are descended from the original leaders of the colonizing expedition, and are thusly more highly-placed from the other, and in their eyes, lesser clans. Clan McGregor's past is bloody, as they believe strongly in keeping and expanding their lands by right of the sword, and have frequently been persecuted for it by alliances of nearby clans. One of the only reasons that the clan still exists today is that they have innumerable fastnesses in the mountains they inhabit, where they are impregnable and impossible to root out. As the land they live in is harsh and largely infertile, Clan McGregor has long survived on what they can hunt, which is no small thing given the vicious animals that inhabit Dagda, but mostly upon what they can steal from neighbouring clans. McGregors are notorious for their livestock raids and for pillaging settlements near their borders. One of the greatest McGregor epics is about a legendary chieftan who embarked on such a massive cattle raid, that it turned into a full-scale war with the neighbouring clans that was only settled at the Battle of Glen Fruie, where the McGregors used their home terrain to outmanuever and utterly rout a much larger army sent by an alliance of the neighbouring major Clans. The only thing that has kept the McGregors from being exterminated completely is the control they have over most of the planet's mineral deposits and mining operations, which almost exclusively occur in their mountain territory.

 

Beliefs

 

While the native population of Dagda have reverted to the worship of nature and spirits before the coming of the marines, the introduction of the Emperor and Imperial doctrine has not totally supplanted this belief. Indeed the Sons of Dagda and the indigenous population revere the Emperor as does any other Imperial world, but rather than viewing him as an immortal god, on Dagda the Emperor is revered as the greatest hero of mankind, a position that the people of Dagda hold in equal regard as others would hold a god in. This is not unlike the way many marine chapters revere the Emperor, perhaps one of the reasons for the close relation between the Sons of Dagda and the population under their protection.

 

Gene-Seed

 

The Sons of Dagda gene-seed is most likely Ultramarine, as it is pure of atrophy or mutation, according to Adeptus Mechanicus reviews. Given this relative purity, it has been concluded that the inherent agression and preference for close combat the Sons of Dagda display is a cultural, rather than genetic, trait.

 

Battle-Cry

 

2nd 'McKenzie' Clan-Company: "Blood and Glory!"

 

3rd 'McGregor' Clan-Company: "We Bring You Death!"

 

Colours of the Sons of Dagda

 

The colour scheme of the Sons of Dagda is halved dark green and golden. The natives of Dagda regard green as the colour of death, and gold as a very masculine colour, the colour of warriors. Instead of wearing company markings as dictated by the Codex Astartes, each Marine wears a kilt with his Clan-Company Tartan on it. Members of the 1st Company, the Black Watch, wear a pure black kilt to represent having no clan and belonging only to the Chapter.

 

Generic Sons of Dagda scheme:

http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y36/ElcidBarret/Sons%20of%20Dagda/NoTartan.jpg

 

2nd 'McKenzie' Clan-Company scheme:

http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y36/ElcidBarret/Sons%20of%20Dagda/McKenzie.jpg

 

3rd 'McGregor' Clan-Company scheme:

http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y36/ElcidBarret/Sons%20of%20Dagda/McGregor.jpg

 

 

Squad-type markings are displayed on the right shoulderpad. Codex squad-type symbols are used, and are always red. The colour of the right shoulderpad rim also denotes squad type. Squad numbers are also displayed on the right shoulderpad. Command officers and their retinues typically have a red shoulderpad rim with the officer's heraldry in place of a squad-type symbol.

 

http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y36/ElcidBarret/Sons%20of%20Dagda/Insignia.gif

 

 

The Sons of Dagda chapter symbol is a black stag's head on a golden field.

http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y36/ElcidBarret/Sons%20of%20Dagda/ChapterBadge.gif

 

 

Heroes of the Sons of Dagda

 

Culchain Bosh

When the original chapter left Terra, they were under the leadership of Culchain Bosh, the first Chapter Master of what was to become the Sons of Dagda. His first action as Chapter Master was to lead the assault on the Orks' orbital barges, intent on cutting off the Orks' options for retreat. Once the Orks' ships were in flames, he lead the transport assault on the enemy forces already on the ground. Following the trail of destruction left by the Orkish hordes, the chapter's forces engaged the forces of Nabgramong, the Ork Warboss, in the foothills of the Northern Highlands. After the bloody battle, the ork forces scattered northward into the mountains, and for a time it seemed as if the orks were go be a constant danger to the planet. It was only with the help of the native warriors from the Clans McKenzie and McGregor, who knew the highlands well, that Culchain was able to drive the remaining orks into one area of the highlands. There Culchain lead an assault on the remaining orks. Deep within the mountains the Chapter wasn't able to bring the full weight of their heavy support to bear against the enemy. With only one option left, Culchain decided to engage the orks eye to eye, leading a massive assault. It was in this battle that Culchain faces off with the massive Warboss Nabgramong in single combat. The fight raged on for three nights, with the clamor of battle all around them until finally Nabgramong's head left his body from a swift blow of Culchain's powersword, breaking the orks' moral and allowing the rest of the chapter to quickly dispatch his remaining forces. To this day, above the Chapter Master's throne in the great hall of the Black Fortress, the partially bionic skull of Nabgramong still hangs, a reminder of that pivital victory so many centuries before. Unfortunately Culchain's leadership could not last forever, and it was during the 3rd invasion of the Red Corsairs that he finally fell in battle, his hands still strangling the accursed life from the neck of the Traitor Champion that finally brought him down. High in the mountains, Culchain was finally laid to rest, his tomb at the peak of the highest mount ian of the area. Every few years, a pilgrimage takes place, undertaken by marine and commoner alike to that towering height, to honor the chapter's founder and hero of Dagda.

 

Nuada Silverhand, Chapter Master of the Sons of Dagda

The current Chapter Master of the Sons of Dagda, like other members of the Black Watch, Nuada's original clan is only known by his closest allies, himself, and few records within the halls of the Black Fortress. Nuada Silverhand is perhaps best known for his use of a more unified Chapter, often sending two or more Clans to war together, where as previous Chapter Masters had let single Clans choose the battles they wished to fight. This has caused it's fair share of opponents within each Clan, as well as the Black Watch itself. It's rumored that he gains some bit of personal amusement by sending rival Clans off to war together. Despite this none would challenge his motives for this, as under his leadership the Sons have gained some of their most major victories.

 

In combat, Nuada is best known for his hammering assaults, refusing to pull out of the combat even when the battle seems to have been lost. Many times he has snatched victory from the jaws of defeat by doing this. Pounding at the enemy's front line until support arrives, or making the enemy's attention focus on his forces long enough for his allies to attack their blind side. Nuada's method of combat seems to be reflected in his choice of personal armament. While there is nothing extraordinary about his army nor the meltagun he carries, his most noticeable armament is the huge powerfist he carries. Before he became Chapter Master, an encounter with an acid-spewing Tyranid biomorph stripped the chapter colors from his powerfist, but also burnt deeply into the flesh of his arm, leaving him with a barely functioning limb. After the battle, the Apothecaries decided that he would have to loose his arm in favor of a bionic one. Nuada had other ideas, refusing to admit defeat, even with his own body, he ordered the Apothecaries and masters of the armory to instead reconstruct his arm around what was left using the now acid-polished powerfist to replace his now horribly mangled lower arm. The name Silverhand became irrevocably entwined with Nuada and the Sons of Dagda ever since. Another item or wargear that sets him apart on the battlefield is the Horns of the Stag. This item functions like the Iron Halos used by other chapters, though in this case this was crafted into a crown, encorperating antlers like those of the Great Stag, locked against eachother as if in combat.

 

George "Bloody" McKenzie, Chief of the 2nd Clan McKenzie

Even before the coming of the Chapter, the McKenzie Clan of the native clans of Dagda was always known for their ferocity and love for war. It seems fitting that the Clan-company that bears their name would be lead by an individual that exemplifies these qualities. Few can carry such boast as George "Bloody" McKenzie does. Clan Chief for almost 4 centuries now, his nickname was earned on the planet of Madril V, where a cult of chaos worshipers had called a force of traitor marines to their world in hopes of revolting against the Emperor. The Sons of Dagda had learned of this message and before the rest of the Imperium had time to respond, Clan McKenzie was fast following the trail of the traitor marines' ships. After a long, brutal battle with the Word Bearers, George McKenzie took great delight in hunting down and gathering up the heretics which had caused this. Keen on not letting the fast approaching Imperial Commanders take his gratification from him, he ordered fully half of the heretics executed on the spot. The rest he ordered lowered into a deep pit, upon which he piled the bodies of their freshly executed fellows. A record was left behind, a warning to any other would be heretics of what fate awaits them at the hands of "Bloody" McKenzie.

 

"Bloody" McKenzie has always had a great love for the games back on Dagda, in particular the unarmed combats. In his days he held victory over this event for 4 Games running, his closest rival was "Wolfman" McGregor of the 3rd company, though their brawls were never constrained to the Games. In his life "Bloody" McKenzie had only ever missed the Games once, his Clan engaged with a particularly long battle against the Eldar. It's said that such was his anger at this, and the anger of his men, that once the capital city was freed, each marine within his company marches through the streets, the body of a fallen Eldar held above their heads. Witnesses claim that "Bloody" McKenzie himself carried aloft the charred iron remains of the Eldar's Avatar, leading his Clan through the streets.

George McKenzie's days are drawing to a close, and many say that he can see the twilight falling towards him. These days he has taken to spending much of his time within the walls of what has come to be known as the Black Mausoleum, a building of jet-black stone constructed deep in the hills controlled by the McKenzie Clan. The walls of this dark hall are lined with many limbs and heads of mutants, heretics, and xenos, trophies collected by the 'Bloody One' through his many victories. Here it's said he sits, remembering his past victories of days gone by, and believing that when the final end comes for him, he will join Culchain and the Emperor, fighting these very enemies in the here-after.

 

In combat it is easy to pick "Bloody" McKenzie from the rest of the army. The great bulk of his Terminator armor festooned with the skulls collected from those that would stand against the Emperor. Draped over the back of his armor is the pelt of a great skull-bear, it's thick hide a mark of honor as much as protection from weapons even his Terminator armor may not protect him from. He's often seen barreling headlong into the enemy lines, his twin poweraxes splitting opponents in two or eviscerating them where they stand as heavy support sails overhead to cut off any line of retreat, forcing the opponent forward into the bloody jaws of McKenzie and his men. It's said that under his command the Clan has reached new heights of wholesale slaughter of their enemies.

[Pulse]

Loving the complete background mate, but one thing i would bring up is why not use the tartan of the Black Watch rather than saying pure black? You have used the proper tartans of the McKenzie and Macgregor, just seems odd not to give the Black Watch the real tartan. :D

[Quillen]

http://ca.games-workshop.com/news/cn/event...ategory5/1b.gif

 

He used Spacewolves Codex for it and I really like the idea.

[Pulse]

Aye i seen that pic before, tis bloody nice work there, loving the tattoos. :D

[Tanin]

Brilliant. Just pure B-R-I-L-L-I-A-N-C-E. I love your work, it is amongst the best I have seen on B&C. If only I knew what clan I belonged to. I'm part pretty much everything european with a lol asian/native american in me. So I am just one big MUTT. Still if I knew my clan I would definetly join in on this with one of the unamed six companies.

Laters,

-The Roaming One-

[NemFX]

Okay, bits bag took it's sweet time getting here and I had to pay an extra 10$ to get it, but..

 

 

http://s97.photobucket.com/albums/l209/nem...SonsofDagda.jpg

 

I'll paint him up a bit later. I also added a pommel at the end. Hope you like.

[Barret]

Looking good! He could use a pommel, as you say, though.

 

Are you planning to work on another Clan-Company? If so, grab the template from above and I'll add your colours to the article, along with any fluff you want. :ph34r:

 

 

Cheers,

 

Barret

[NemFX]

I already added a pommel, it'll be in the painted one. I'll just stick to the one your already using. I imagine that TheDeinonychus is using the other tartan? Anyways, glad you like. Maybe you should make mention that they don't like bunnies. I saw that picture of the bunny in the church :ph34r:

[TheDeinonychus]

Bunny in church, wah? O.o

 

BTW, look for some fluff in a bit

[TheDeinonychus]

Appolagies to Barret. I suck at writing accents so you'll have to read into Malcolm's lines.

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

 

The bushes shook with the passing of the predators stalking their prey. They might as well been wolves, if there were wolves on this backwater planet. The golden half of their armor reflecting the dull light of the world's two small moons. Perhaps the man at the front of this pack was more wolf than man, his shaggy hair and ragged beard catching for a moment in the branches and tearing away leaves as he ran, sword held out before him to reap asunder any foolish enough to block his path. As the sun set back at his camp, Brother Amstas, his Com-Vox officer, had reported a disturbing finding. A large force gathering north of their position, just outside the forest. The tratiorous forces that had plagued this world had dug in and hidden themselves in the dense woods that covered much of the land, and with the Ultramarines busying themselves patroling the cities they were little help rooting out the last traces of resistance threatening to become a continuing plague. A chance to clash with the enemy gathering in force was an oppertunity Malcolm would not pass up. The Wolfman wasted no time mustering his force and leading them through the dense growth, makeing a zigzagging path towards the force assembling to the north. Soon they would meet them blade to blade, and tainted blood would spill before the fury of the Wolfman's warriors.

 

A loud crash up ahead stopped Clan-Chief Malcolm in his tracks. His ears keenly scanning the night for signs of his prey, his troops settling quietly behind him, ready to spring forth at his signal. Something was moveing up ahead, something large, trees pushed aside to make way for it's bulk. The Wolfman grinned, it would be a good prize for sure. Slowly he crept closer while Amstas watched his Auspex, tracking the movement, cutting through the dark veil of foliage. Malcolm was just meters from his target, his grip tightening on his sword, his boots digging into the soft ground, ready to leap blade first as he drew closer and closer to the huge form. The outline of the Terminator wheeled around on it's heels, one hand riseing up, brandishing a massive axe, the huge blade shielding the marine's face, but even then with the dim light Malcolm was as familiar with the grinning skull crowning that blade as he would of been seeing it's owner's face.

 

Sinking the point of his sword into the ground, Malcolm stood curseing "Bloody Hell" he said, spitting the taste of impending battle from his mouth as the Terminator lowered his axe. The elder marine pushed a sappling out of the way as he stepped out, the dark green and red of his tartin flowing around his legs as he towered infront of even the massive form of the Wolfman.

 

"A pleasure to see you too, MacGregor." George McKenzie said with a bit of a smirk to his scared face. The old marine had seen countless battles and it showed on his aged face. Resting his axe against his hip as he watched the rest of the 3rd company slowly materializeing from their hideing places. Malcolm sighed, glairing up at the 2nd company Chief "What in the Emperor's Name are you doing here, George?"

 

Leaning against a tree that could barely bear his weight, McKenzie crossed his arms over the barrel chest of his armor "Sorry we're late. You know how the greyskins are, they always run from a fight." he said, goading his old friend a bit. It was rare that he could catch his fellow Clan-Chief on the short end of things and he wasnt going to let this opertunity pass by.

 

"You know what I mean." Malcolm spat, watching more members of 2nd company comming through the woods. While his company was light and mobile, 2nd company were armed to the teeth, heavy and moveing like a bulldozer through the forest, many had extra plates bolted to their armor, skulls and other trophies chained about, their tartans bearing repaired scars, much like some of the marines he saw.

 

"Well, looks as if we got the same call to arms as you did. Just took us longer to get here. You're always rushing off without much thought anyway." he said, drawing more of Malcolm's ire. The scene around them was standoffish for a moment as the marine gathered. If an outsided would of stumbled upon the two forces one would expect them to clash at any moment, but rather as the marines walked to eachother gauntlets met in fierce shakes and chestplates were struck to the sound of jests and laughter as brothers that stood shoulder to shoulder on dozens of worlds renewed bonds of brotherhood. The blue flame of a Mag-flair lit up, normaly used to light fires when survival was needed, but the Wolfman held it to the end of one of his very oderous cigars, smoke billowing about him as the tip glowed. Takeing a long draw from it he looked up to see the raised brow of his brother Chief, a little chuckle as he held the cigar out for a moment.

 

George, the Bloody One to his men and enemies, took the thick smoke deep into his lungs. Though a Space Marine's body was protected from the deterorative nature of tobaco, there was still a rich caste to it, enough for Malcolm to pick up the bad habit from the civilians back home and, truthfuly, it was a habit that George sometimes endulged in along with his friend, often as an icebreaker. Such was this time as Malcolm took back the cigar, picking leaves from his beard as he took another drag from it. "Afraid you're too late," he said, pauseing to leg smoke billow from his mouth, "We've about done with this planet."

 

"Then what brings you out into the woods? Enjoying the moonlight?" George smirked, Malcolm looked down as his cigar in his hand in response. "The blighters have scattered. Everytime we engage them they melt back into the forest and disappear. Bloody frustrating.." he grunted, kicking a stump, sending splinters of wood into the air. "When we spotted your landing site we were hopeing you were the enemy."

 

That brought a chuckle to the Bloody One's face "Sorry to disappoint you, son" he jested. He stepped up, placeing a boot on the previously abused stump, leaning down to look level with Wolfman. "You've turned your communication array off again, didnt you?" he said.

 

"Ofcorse I did! Damned thing's bloody annoyeing!" Malcolm retorted, as if it was the natural thing to do, but he could tell from George's look there was more to it.

 

"You never were one for planning. Why do you think we landed on this side of the forest?" he offered. Malcom's eyes rose at this, "You mean the traitors have camped near by?" he almost shouted, eager to finaly engage his enemy, then realization hit him "Heh, not like it matters. They'll scatter just like they've been doing. Even with your boys there's no way to corner them into a fight.."

 

He lifted his cigar to his lips again, the tip glowing in the darkness as he drew deeply. He paused in mid inhail as he noticed the look in George's eyes. He's seen that look before. Last time George had that look his Neophytes had somehow managed to steal and hide every seat cover from 3rd company's Thunderhawks. It was that devious plotting look that ment the gears of the old man's mind was churning out some plan. George was looking at the smoldering end of Wolfman's cigar. "What? Im not going to like this, am I?" he sighed.

 

"Oh, I think you'll enjoy this actualy..."

 

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

 

The small, scattered groups of rebels were hidden deep in the woods where they could fade away from their enemies. Small camps that would fly to the winds only to be drawn back together far from their oponents. They could plague the Imperials for months, raiding and destroying supplies as they wished. As one traitor, his uniform defaced and defiled with profane markings, walked to the edge of the camp, his long knife in one hand as he leaned down to cut meat from the plundered livestock, the air was heavy with the smell of buring meat, some animal, some not. But the air carried something else, something else burning, warm air blew over his painted face. He looked up in time for the light to reflect in his eyes. His tainted body scourged clean by roaring flamed. The forest was alight as the wall of fire moved through the treed towards the traitor's camp. Rebels consumed to ash jets of flame lanced out from the trees around them, shouts ringing out, yelling to flee, to scatter into the darkness and move to the next sight, but as the flamed drew closer and around them there was only one way of escape.

 

One among them, a traitor from centuries of unbridled war, charged into the bush, crashing wildly to escape the flames, looking back, not careing wether his fellows were following but rather that he was outrunning the flames, he looked forwards in time to see the gleem of steel, crackling with energy as it met him head on. His body slideing on the ground, a red streak in it's wake as his head tumbled into the bushes. With a howl the Wolfman lept from cover, his sword cutting a huge arch before him as he yelled "Death has come for you!"

 

More warriors exploded from the forest, descending on the fleeing traitors, boddied cut from legs in mid-stride as sword and axe parted flesh. Explosions rang out, muffled by bodies as bolters let loose a hail of devistation. They reaped them like wolves marauding a herd of cattle, sheeps for the slaughter. And driveing this herd into the jaws of the wolves, the relentles flames.

 

The fires drove deeper into the camp, spewing forth from the flamers held front by warriors of the 2nd company. Slowly they marched, an unstoppable wall pushing the traitors forwards to their deaths. Marching back and forth behind the main line, the huge form of Bloody McKenzie could be seen, bellowing orders like a commander of old. "That's it my brothers! Burn them out! Drive this traitorus scum right into the jaws of the Wolf!" he grinned as his men advanced. He bet Malcolm a barrel of ale he could flush out this scum, it'll be a joy collecting on this bet..

[TheDeinonychus]

Damn! And here I thought this thread would of disappeared into deletion. Glad to see I was wrong. Havent realy thought about the Sons much lately, been haveing other distractions and all, but they've made something of a comeback. Just wondering if anyone is still out there.

 

Oh well, for those of you familiar with Second Life, here's a little treat for you all

 

http://smg.photobucket.com/albums/v356/The...agdaSL1_001.jpg

 

http://smg.photobucket.com/albums/v356/The...agdaSL1_002.jpg

 

http://smg.photobucket.com/albums/v356/The...agdaSL1_003.jpg

 

Give me a shout if any of you are on Second Life. My name on there is Martty Oliver

[NemFX]

Yes, still here. I had a fun idea for my predator and I think your guys would approve, but I'll have to take a picture of it sometime soon..

[Barret]

It came from the depths! :huh:

 

TheDeinonychus, send me a PM. I'd like to rework the SoD into a proper, Librarium-worthy article. :)