I just won Chaos in the Old World!

It was a limerick contest, and my winning entry was:

There once was a man of the Reik,
Who oft found a girl to his like,
He fondled their tresses,
Said ten "Hail Slaaneshes!"
And was gutted by Witchhunter Mike!

And so I am getting the game shipped to me! WOOT!

Wow, I've been busy

Or something like that.

Since I last blogged, I played in a tourney, and had my ass handed to me. 2-1 in fact, and I played at the kiddie tables for the last two games. Sad, but true. I got a lot of things painted for the tourney, most of which you saw in the last few posts, but I also finished my Manticore, which was shown as a WIP in my first few posts.

Of course I don't have pictures of it! I want to get pictures of my whole guard army, but I want it done outside. And of course, the whole of the outside world is still covered in snow, so...

In the mean time, I've gotten bored of painting Warhammer miniatures, so I thought I'd give myself a little break and paint up a Reaper mini I got in a paint set I bought for 50% off. He's a neat little fig, and he's acutally on of the few "realistic" mini's that Reaper puts out. I think he'd look good for a level 1 fighter.









He's been primed black, painted with GW foundation paints, and his armor was washed with Devlan Mud. Devlan Mud should be sold by the gallon. The symbol is a transfer from the IG sheet, and the base was a resin cast base that I did.

Additional recruits

I haven't been writing as much because I was preparing for a tournament. FYI, apparently, my scatter die mojo has gone south for the winter, as I went 1-2 and got pummeled the entire time. Apparently, strategy isn't my thing. :)

I'm a big fan of the alternate heads available out there for your cadian/catachan bodies. Things like the Seperate Head System from West Wind, or the ones from Pig Iron Productions. Pig Iron produced Winter Heads, and I snatched those up. I'm also a fan of the Rebel Kolony line. Both of those are available from the Warstore.

I think he has some Captain in him:




I don't know what to call this regiment, as I don't see them as Valhallans. I started making them during the whole Mordant 13th thing, so I might go with that. Or I might come up with some new regiment altogether.

And full disclosure, I receive no free stuff from anybody on this or any other product. I know there's a whole new law passed about that. I don't know the particulars, but I thought I'd cover myself, just in case. :)

New recruits for the Valhallan 42nd!

The newly minted leader of the 42nd, Captain Sorin:


The new Company Banner of the 42nd Mountaineers, Faith Company:



A Fleet Officer attached to the 42nd:






A Flamer for Lt. Reznik's squad:



And a grenade launcher for 1st Platoon (him, I'm not so proud of, paint-job wise):

Oh, the humanity!

So, there ist is again, you rock up to your friendly local gaming store (FLGS) and you're looking for a 40k game. You brought your freshly painted 5th Company of the Face-Punchers of the Emperor's Fury Chapter, and you're itching to put some xenos scum in their place. You open the door, and what do you see? Tom with his 135th Ultra-Cadians, Dick with his Order of the Holy Name of He Who Sits Around All Day, and Harry with his 4TH Company of the Face-Punchers of the Emperor's Fury Chapter. You care about theme; you hate fighting against the "same side". So, now what?

So, why the hell would two Imperial Forces fight each other? Well luckily, the last time I checked, the 40k Universe is full of paranoia, back-stabbing and other unpleasant motivations. Not all is rosy in the Imperium of Man.

Before we begin, it helps to have an established story for your force. Are they an expeditionary force? Are they defending their homeworld? Are they on campaign? If you have a foundation, it's far easier to build a solid house on top of it.

Here are some ideas:

1. It's a wargame. Real armies do these all the time. To prepare for war, one plays at war. This is probably easiest to rationalize, though it's kinda weaksauce for the creative types.

2. Rivals come to blows. There's a Forbidden Item of Great Power on the planet below, and both side are arguing about how to dispose of it. There is no compromise, there is no backing down, and it must be settled by blood.

3. A Radical (Heretical?) Inquisitor has manipulated one or both of the forces. Which would be a neat backstory for a branching campaign, if one your other friends has a large Daemon Hunter force, you can have the two forces join against the manipulating bastard at the end to put him down.

4. Your Chapter is skirting the razor's edge of heresy, loyal until that last straw breaks the camel's back, then the descent into howling madness begins!

Here we have a pre-battle story illustrating #2

"It seems the Sisters have not forgotten Armageddon, Brother-Sergeant. They hound us at every step."

"They seem to know our objective, Brother Chaplain. Their agents must be very well informed. Not that their information will help them. If they but knew our true cause, they would likely join us." Brother Sergeant Lucius's auto-senses tracked the heat-bloom coming off of the sister's lead Immolater. The rest of the Sisters milled about in the pre-dawn gloom, taking positions covering the impact crater.

It had been several years since Chaplain Odio found the tome that led them on the quest to recover the mortal artifacts of Angaron. If the Liber di Furia Inumana could be believed, then the gathered items they found could banish Angaron into the Immaterium forever.

"I doubt that highly, Lucius. The Ecclesiarchs are a prickly lot. If they are even aware of our quest, I doubt it would matter. They see us as tainted, no matter what." He sighed as he watched the Sisters take the high ground far in the distance. "It is time we teach them a lesson. Release the Annointed Ones from their chains. They could do with a hunt."

Odio tightend his grip on his Crozius, it's spiked head arcing with energy in response to the sudden rage that gripped him. Odio turned to the Fourth Company, his Brothers in Arms.

"Once more, we are opposed by those that would keep us from our quest. Once more, we must fight and spill blood for what we know to be true. The skull of the last victim of Angaron as a mortal man awaits us in that crater. The Skull Last Taken will be ours, Brothers! We attack at dawn! None shall stand against us! BLOOD IN HIS NAME!"

"BLOOD IN HIS NAME!"

As one, the Flesh Tearers advanced....

Team Tournament Backstory

So, back about two years ago, my friend Simon and I went and played in the Adepticus Orlandicus Team Tourney held (oddly enough) in Orlando, FL. We, as Team Bloody and Broody (Flesh Tearers/Dark Angels) took third overall, and won for the Head Hunter's Prize (prize for killing the most HQ's/Keeping the most HQ's alive). Go us. Fluff was taken into account for the team's scoring, so no Dark Angel/Dark Eldar pairings. In mind of that, I wrote a little short story explaining how our two forces met, and how we began to cooperate.

But first some back story on my back story. My Flesh Tearers are charged with finding the Eight Artifacts of Angaron (a non-canon idea, but inspired by the Blood Quest comics), and bringing them back to Creticia so that they may be destroyed, killing or weakening Angaron. Simon's Dark Angels are doing what they do best, hunting for a Fallen.

Sgt. Thracius watched his bolter round enter the renegade’s eye. With grim satisfaction, he watched the World Eater’s head explode like a rotten gourd. The gore-soaked giant collapsed, crushing some of the rebel factory workers underneath his bulk.

Sgt. Thracius turned to face his next foe, as the battle raged around him. Blood stained the robes that marked him as member of the Inner Circle. His Dark Angel Brethren had traveled to this factory to hunt down one of the Fallen Angels, and had instead fallen into his trap. The approach to the factory showed the glorious icons of Imperial industry had been torn down or smashed asunder, and had been replaced with runes which burned the eye to look at them. The skull rune of the Blood God had been carved into the head of the Immortal Emperor, incensing the patrol as their rhinos approached the twisted ruins of the factory. Thracius urged caution, and spoke of signs of the enemy in the rubble. The cultists they saw were twisted, stunted parodies of men, clothed in the skin of those who had remained loyal to the Emperor. Bearing an assortment of autoguns, las pistols and crude hand to hand weapons, they were easy prey for the even this small patrol of Astartes. But even this small coven could lead to information regarding this renegade leader, known only as “The Angel of Slaughter”. They could not risk this possible Fallen to escape.

All had gone as planned. Small arms fire pinged off the Rhino’s hide on the approach, representing very little threat. A cultist bearing a grenade launcher, seemingly the heaviest weapon amongst their force, was picked off at range by the more accurate fire of the second squad. The Rhinos gained entry to the compound virtually unopposed. Sgt. Thracius and his battle brothers poured forth from the Rhinos, bolters spitting death. The cultists charged unheeding into the massed fire power, but gained no ground. All seemed to be going their way until Sgt. Thracius heard the throaty roar of chain weapons starting. From concealed positions, eight crimson armored forms rose to join battle. Cleaving through their own followers to better get at the Dark Angels, the World Eaters made their way to join the combat.

All was bedlam for several minutes. The swirl and rush of combat overtook them. Sgt. Thracius’s close encounter made him realize that their positions were untenable. The World Eaters were pressing too hard, and the cultists were cutting off any chance of escape. The Unending Duty, high in orbit, could not be reached, and neither could their Ravenwing patrol. All would be lost if they did not fall back soon.

It was then that Thracius heard the clap of thunder. “Three drop pods on an approach vector, Brother-Sgt.” That brief message confirmed the worst of Thracius’s suspicions. More of the Enemy were coming. He made the only order which made sense.

“Return to the Rhinos, Brothers! We must fall back! Grab your fallen Brothers! No one is left behind!”

At that moment the drop pods slammed home, sending a shock wave through the battle. All was silent for a split second. Then the explosive bolts holding the drop pod doors fired. Red-armored marines poured forth from the pods, armed for close combat, and all seemed lost.

That was until the newcomers fired into the cultists. A scream of “Blood! Blood in His Name!” carried over the din of battle as the newcomers launched themselves into the cultists. Ten of them were armored in white, covered in saltaires of crimson. Those armored so seemed unstoppable, taking fire that would level a grox. As a force, they moved through the foe like a scythe.

“I don’t know who they are, Brothers, but kill the rebels!” The Dark Angels redoubled their fire, slaughtering the cultists. They watched in mute horror as the newcomers rent and tore the foe with chain-axe, combat knives, and even bare hands. Soon, even the Berserkers fell to the warriors in white. What few cultists remained fled to the hills when they saw their benefactors fall. The white armored marines turned to follow them, breaking spines, crushing skulls and rending limbs in a display of unmatched savagery.

The Dark Angels stood, bolters at the ready, and watched the newcomers. A black armored form marched forward, a skull mask marking him as a chaplain. Is this some trick of the Fallen?, thought Sgt Thracius. His Crozius is more of a cudgel than a symbol of devotion. The chaplain raised his hands in salute, and reached up to break the air-seals of his helm.

“Well met, Brothers of the Dark Angels! I am sorry for the lack of warning, but you did not seem to be on the standard frequencies. And there is the matter of the jamming that seems to be taking place.” He seemed normal, a bit pale and gaunt perhaps, but free of taint. “I am Brother-Chaplain Lucius, of the 4th Company of the Fleshtearers. I would speak to your commander, if possible. We may have common cause.”

Why now? These blasted interlopers will ruin the hunt! But Sgt. Thracius could not refuse without drawing suspicion. “I am Brother-Sgt. Thracius, 4th company, 2nd squad, leader of this patrol. Brother-Epistolatory Praxilus is not here. I will vox him to let him know of your desire to meet. But we have little time for conferances. These covens demand to be purged. If a meeting can be done, he will let me know.”

“That is all I can ask.”

______________________________

The Sgt. watched as Brother Librarian Praxilus strode away from the meeting with the Fleshtearer command. Suspicious eyes watched as the battle-scarred craft closed its ramps and began to lift skyward.

The robes of his fellow Inner Circle members moved in the winds created from the other chapter’s Thunderhawk lifting into the sky. “Brothers, I need not tell you that this is a critical moment” began Praxilus. “I have spoken with this Chaplain Lucius. And he targets the same renegade that we do, for reasons unrelated to our quest. Indeed, he is of the mind that this “Angel of Slaughter” is a renegade from his own Chapter, or of his parent Chapter. He does not know anything of the Fallen, and that should remain so if we remain vigilant. Indeed, the Emperor’s Tarot predicted a great challenge ahead of us; forces gather the likes of which we have never seen. Ordinarily, I would not do this, but our casualties have been great. The Enemy was prepared, and though we could find the Fallen, we would not be able to guarantee our success. With them, we can prevail. Without them... who can say?”

With this, Sgt. Thracius grinned. “Better to have hounds to flush our prey. Should they learn too much, who will doubt us when we say they went mad, and had to be put down? Their reputation is our leash, and our weapon.”

______________________________

“Brother Lucius! We have left the atmosphere. Docking with the Righteous Fury in 30.”

“Well done as always, Brother Gregor. Keep scanning for anything unusual.”

“Ave, Brother…” A pause. And then the question, “Brother, these Dark Angels, what do you make of them? Do you trust them?”

“I do not trust them, Gregor. But I trust I know what they will do. They seek our fallen Brother for some reason, I dare not ask what. As long as this ‘Angel’ has the axe we seek; I care not. Just be on guard. I don’t wish to be lost in an ‘accident’ if we step on our Brother’s robes once too often. The Sons of el’Johnson were ever peevish regarding their secrets. In fact, we should probably sensor sweep this Thunderhawk as soon as we return. Still, we need them as much as they need us…”

X-Mas Project

So, the 40KRadio listeners' group, the Freebootas, are doing a gift exchange. It's your typical Secret Santa thing, but 40k related. You know, something small, but nice.

The guy I got mentioned he liked Eldar and Orks, so I whipped this together:





It's a tad bit hard to see, but it's a resin cast dreadnought sized base with added detail. It's got a guardian casualty on it, with his leg being pinned by the tip of a broken Eldar Warpgate. I'm going to wait until the greenstuff sets, and then add a bit more detail. I'm almost tempted to make a cast of it, but that seems like cheapening the gift a bit. Not like I can sell them, anyway, since it has GW parts...

I'm a sucker for a Space Game

I love BFG.

Let me state that again, I love Battle Fleet Gothic. I put little hearts over the "i" when I write Gothic I love it so much. And Fire Storm Armada looks to be pushing my Gothic Button (take that as you will).



A few gents from the D6 Generation put up a battle report on Spartan's forums.

It looks good, and there's been positive buzz for sometime about it.

The stories of the 42nd

Katya’s hull rang with the impact of energy bolts that clawed at the outer hull, desperate to pierce it. Sorin’s face was lit a garish green in the light of the tactical display. He could feel the sightless eyes of Walker boring into him, and it was disturbing him. He didn’t even know Walker’s first name yet, as the Astropath had been assigned to them just this morning. He was another of Commissar Price’s “suggested” innovations, and as disturbing as Walker was, he was already proving his worth.

“Are the penal legions in position?”

“Yes, Captain. They have advanced past the broken lines of Angel Company. It seems either that they have not been spotted, or that they have been dismissed as a minor threat by the Eldar in comparison.”

“More likely the second. Still, have them proceed with their mission. Forgiveness is theirs to be had, even if it’s found while wearing a martyr’s collar.” More impacts hit the hull, one of them causing the hull to glow an intriguing cherry red to the captain’s right. “And see if we can have the 57th do something about this insistent knocking.”

“Ave, Captain.”

Seconds later, a roar that was felt as much as heard filled the cabin with insistent drum beats. The artillery pieces had been concealed in the hills behind the battle-lines of the 42nd Valhallans. The patter of the Eldar’s energy weapons stopped. “Finally! I can get some Mark 1’s on this situation! Pop the top.”

Katya’s top hatches were thrown back. Grabbing his field glasses, Captain Sorin cautiously raised his helmeted head into the grey light of Quentin III. The sight of a war-torn charnel house was his reward. High command had triangulated this area as the center of the Eldar raids, and had postulated that this heavily wooded area was either their base camp or an area of interest to them. Resistance had been heavy in their push to take the woods. Sorin saw the smooth hulls of multiple Eldar tanks burning in the killing fields between the rocky hills they were trapped in and the woods the enemy held. Sorin saw his men, the men of Faith Company, were huddled behind the rocky outcroppings approaching their objective. Borisova’s Angel Company had been mauled on the left, but at least Katzev’s Chain Company was pressing on the right. No matter how well Katzev's boys are doing now, they will falter without support. Faith Company had to press or else the assault would stall and fail. He could hear Commissar Price’s voice exhorting the men to advance, but if the men advanced now, they'd be cut down. It was reaching a point of no return.

“Vox a message to the 57th. Let them fire danger close on those wooded positions ahead of us. Dead of our own shells or dead of xenos weaponry… It makes no difference if we can’t advance. Vox the sergeants leading the assault as well. Tell them they better be 30 seconds behind the shells, or Price will be the least of their worries. And bring those ipaccing Demolishers forward. We need their hulls to cover the assault!”

Captain Sorin, paused, weighing the odds. It was now or never.

"And we need to button up. Order Lt. Revnik to bring his Chimera up to support the Demolishers. We need his flamers to burn the those bastard Eldar out. We're going, too."

That last bit of news made the vox operator look stricken. Sorin resisted the urge to slap him. Corporal Nikitin was new to the 42nd, brought to the front to replace his his old vox-op who had taken a sniper round in the shoulder. His hands were more used to grinding coffee than digging fox-holes, and the fear showed in his eyes. "Pull yourself together, Miska! Did you think you'd see war from a comfy seat here in Katya's hull? You're a son of Valhalla, boy! Time to earn that greatcoat!" Nitkin didn't seem so sure, but prepped his lasgun anyway.

Katya rumbled forward, progressing slowly over the rocks ahead of them. The roar of the 57th's guns firing was eclipsed by the sound of their shells hitting home 100 yards ahead of them. The demolisher's cannons added their shells to the roar, and their heavy bolters spat death into the half-seen Eldar holding in the woods. Sorin checked the workings of his chainsword, pushing down the fear he felt with practiced ease. The eyes of the company would be on him, and he had to keep their fighting spirits high.

Suddenly, Katya lurched to a halt. The cabin's heat rose perceptibly. Sorin sensed danger, yelling "Hit the deck!" not a moment too soon. A beam of pure light cut through the transport compartment at gut height. Petrachkov grabbed the company standard and threw it to the deck, and was caught by the beam. It cut into him, the heat from the beam caused him to explode. Nitkin wretched, but had the common courtesy not to soil the company banner any further than Petrachkov had. "It looks like we need a new banner bearer, Nitkin, and it looks like you've just volunteered. Get that banner unfurled! Hold it high, for the Company's sake! Walker, stay here and hide. Katya's down, but she will protect you from stray shots. Men of the 42nd, we go the rest of the way on foot!" With that, Sorin kicked the broken ramp down. He drew his chainsword and strode forth, touching Katya's aquilla icon for luck. He hoped to the Emperor his men were following him.

To be continued...

My Flesh Tearers, 4th Company

What is there to say about the 4th Company?





Being that they are one of my older armies, the pics I have aren't the greatest, but they'll do for now.

I had these as my 4th edition all jumppack beat-stick army, and I haven't really addressed the changes inherant in 5th edition with them. I'm really holding out for the rumored new codex to come out next year. I'd hate to make a ton of changes only to have to change them again.

The problem is is that they were built to be a high-risk, high reward army, but lately, they've been having trouble getting the job done. They have no real anti-tank other than attack bikes or landspeeders.

I'm adding more stuff to them to make them more mechanized and less jump pack based, and I'm probably taking the cheese engine out of the the equation. Yes, I used both Dante (Chapter Master Seth) and Corbulo (didn't think of a name) in a 2500 and 1850 army.

Instead of two Assault squads, and one Tac (for a screening rhino), I'll likely reverse that ratio. I have assualt terminators waiting for the day they get that 3+ invulnerable save, and my Crusader is mostly painted as well. There's all that great detail. Man do I love that kit.

If you haven't got one yet, I highly recommend it.

Valhallans

My Valhallans are going through a change, as I noted before. A newer (cheaper) commander was promoted to Captain, with the Colonel moving up in the ranks through field promotions. Penal Legion are being added, as are a Psyker battle squad and a new commissar.

Captain Sorin rested his aching back against the interior of Katya’s hull. His overcoat hung open, and his view out Katya’s open ramp was painted in shades of grey. The weak light of Quentin III’s sun struggled manfully to break the cloud cover, but it was wasted effort. Not even the mud on this sump hole has color. Sorin fumbled for his lho sticks, finding them stowed in his dry inner pocket. He began to pull them out, unthinking. Light discipline! I can’t smoke these. He shoved them back, disgusted.

“Pardon me saying so, Captain, but you’re better off quitting those things.” The voice was only a mild rebuke, but it startled the newly minted Captain just the same. He turned to face the company’s Commissar, who was rounding the bend, an easy smile on a face framed by a crisp salute.

A relieved smile lit up Sorin’s eyes, glad for the distraction. He stepped out of his chimera’s hull, his hand brushing the worn aquilla just inside Katya’s entrance.“Actually, Commissar Price, I was reaching for my pistol to shoot you myself. I thought it a mercy to relieve you from this tropical nightmare that we’ve landed ourselves in. It must be at least ten degrees above freezing. Walk with me, I’d like to hear your morale report.”

Price nodded, his smile still in place. “I’d hardly call ten degrees above freezing ‘tropical’, Captain.” Price fell in with Sorin, and they toured the company’s section of the line, noting the men’s dug-in defenses. “The men are ready for the Eldar’s next push. Casualties were light, mostly from sniper fire. They have been at prayer, and they seem in good spirits.”

“I wish I shared their optimism. These Eldar have been like ghosts. I keep feeling like we’ve got them, and then they melt away like salted snow. It’s been two months of hunting on this hell pit, and we’re still no closer to pinning them down. At least winter is coming. I might actually have to buckle my coat.”

Price could see the strain on Sorin’s face. “The men are up to the task, Captain. I begin to wonder if the Captain is ready for it.” Sorin turned as if he had been slapped. “What the ipac are you talking about, Commissar?”

“My lapels, Sorin. You’re wrinkling them.” Sorin looked down; his hands had grasped the Commissar’s own greatcoat unbidden. Sorin released the other man swiftly, as if he was a scalding pipe. The men who had turned to watch them found sudden interest in their prayers and cleansing rituals for their lasguns.

Price seemed unflustered despite his wrinkled clothing. “Let me repeat, Captain. If there is a problem with this regiment, it is you. The men respect you, General Zedowsky certainly had faith in you.” Price stepped in close, closer than was comfortable for Sorin. “You’re afraid of losing a single one of them, Captain. And for that, you might lose all of them. It’s the peril of raising one from inside the ranks. You’re too connected to the idea of the 42nd as they were under the General’s command. Losses will occur, Sorin. There’s nothing fair about it, and it will come to rest unquietly on your shoulders. But rest assured that High Command, and thus the Commissariat, is unconcerned with your mental health.”

“I can’t just send them into the meat grinder again and again. To do so is a waste of the Emperor’s resources”

“And yet you must. If it means victory, you must be ready to sacrifice them to the man. Not heedlessly, certainly, but blood shed in His Name is the ink that writes the accounts of our victory. But don’t worry, Sorin. I did secure something for the company that might help you overcome your problem.”

Only then did Sorin note the truck pulling up. Full of men in filthy orange jump fatigues, it could mean one thing.

“Penal legions?”

“Yes, Captain. Think of them as training wheels…”

Plans for my next army.

I'm building a chaos marine army, and the basic idea is thus:

Two forces are lured onto Hope's Demise by the machinations of the Chaos Gods. A band of Death Guard, and a band of World Eaters are caught in the subtle net of Nurgle’s humor.

In a prank of horrific proportions, Nurgle gives both a disease that affects not the body; instead it affects the mind and the memory in particular. Their minds are wiped, and they believe themselves back in the time of the Heresy. And they believe themselves to be heroes. They hallucinate, so that they believe that they are without mutation, their loyalist foes are horrendous mutants, and their defilers and daemon allies are dreadnoughts and loyal militia respectively. Which explains why they are in their original Legion Colors….

Chaos Daemons on Parade

I liked my librarian picture so much, I decided to take pictures of my Chaos Daemons outside as well. See more pictures here.

There's a new Tyranid On-line Painter in town.

The Valhallan conundrum

I'm having trouble finding a compelling hook for the back story of my Valhallans.

There was once a time that I had the Valhallan 42nd Mountaineers, a regiment mostly of foot troops, led by the zealous Colonel Zedowsky. Over time, my regiment changed in its nature. Elements of support came from the 135th Krieg and some Irregulars that the regiment adopted from their time on Utica IV, a desert planet that had some of the most vicious mountain warfare.

Now, it is lead by a different model, one Captain Sorin (as Colonel Z had some wargear that was costly for a model unlikely to survive actual combat...). Captain Sorin doesn't believe in front line fighting, and is much more likely to be poring over a data-slate and directing his men from his Chimera Katya than being on the front line.

The nature of the regiment changed even more. The 135th didn't make as many appearances. The Irregular's veteran duties fell back on the 42nd, who enjoyed their new Valkyrie. The Mordant 57th Penal Legion was attached to them for mine clearing duty, and the received the support of an Astropath and of a Squad of Psykers. Medusas and Leman Russ Demolishers started making more appearances. The question I have for myself is if they are still the Valhallan 42nd any more? Do I see it as the same regiment with changes, or as an entirely new body?

Maybe that's why I'm having a hard time writing for them, unlike my other armies. Of course, I haven't written anything for my Flesh Tearers. Stelek (of YTTH infamy) first suggested my army list to me, and I feel like they're kind of soulless. I haven't played them as much for that reason.

Valhallan Flamer with Cinematic effects

I like the cinematic effects that Armorcast has, but I'm a bit broke right about now. So I decided to cook up one of my own. This here is just green stuff and a paperclip. I drilled a hole deep into the flamer, and glued it into place. On the clip itself, I left the curve at the end to provide support for the rising flames. I did an unequal mix (about 60% blue) to provide a firmer set at the end of it. I think it came out nicely.

You should write a bit each day.

Hemingway did it, and so should you. I’m not talking about drinking to excess or going on safari. I’m talking about writing.

Of course, our writing can take many forms. Like writing short stories, army lists, novels, and of course, what I call the theme side bar. Think of it as a scene, a vignette that reveals the flavor of your army. Better yet, think of it as a written trailer for your army. You, of course, have read dozens, if not more of these shorter than short stories. Some of them are highly memorable, others less so. They're all in those text boxes in the sides of your codices and rule books.

The one that I love is simple, and it sets the image of the 40k universe so well. Turn to your chaos codex, current edition.

There is the story of the desperate struggle of an imperial guard regiment under attack by the Red Corsairs. The Guardsmen cower in a bunker, and attempt to call in artillery on their coordinates, when a Land Raider rolls over their position, making a mockery of their resistance. The guardsman's death is an inexorable as a drowning man's. The Red Corsairs, finding him damaged and of no use, toss him aside contemptuously.

What elements does this need to make it work?

1. Brevity - the shorter you can make it the better.

2. Clearly defined conflict - the classics work best here, Man Vs. Man, Man vs. Nature, Man vs. Self

3. A satisfying resolution? - Obviously, you want your side to win. You're writing it, so you get to define the ending. Of course, this being a just a scene, you can build in a cliffhanger. Describe only a tiny slice of the victory.

Your hive fleet's lictor slaughters a few guards, but moves on into the night. Does it complete its mission? That's for the game and dice to decide.

You might a Dark Eldar Wych leaping into the fray against a tactical squad, performing a deadly dance with the marine sergeant. Have that fight end with the wych planting a poison kiss, and having it end with her asking who is next.

What's the story? Part 2

Continuing with my clever plan of: a. writing to a non-existant audience, and b. not writing at all about my Valhallans or Flesh Tearers, I present to you my back story for my Chaos Daemons army, The Host of Hope's Demise:

“...It is here, aboard Hope's Refuge, that we meet our end.”

The sound of the bolter round echoed around the small chapel, its doors bound in this world and the other, the first by the finest locks, and the second by the hexagramatic wards that burned in the eyes of those with the sight. A second bolter round was heard, followed by the slam of meat hitting cold steel, and then, all was silence. Three figures watched the horrors that had unfolded with surgical detachment, the glare from the hololith illuminating them with its harsh light.

“Turn the recording off, Charles. Destroy the 'lith. Take all the standard precautions.”

“Yes, your Holiness.”

Even though Charles had been in Inquisitor Kranz’s service for years, the sight of the taint of Chaos so rampant still turned his acolyte's stomach. The ‘lith left nothing to the imagination. Watching the junior officer's transformation from man into plaything of the Diseased One had been bad enough for all three of them. But to see him take the ultimate step to salvation, and shoot himself not once, but twice... Well, that was a man of the Emperor to the last.

Tech Priest Wanohfour spoke aloud the Inquisitor's thoughts. “It was brave of the organic to terminate functions before the onset of Final Stage Warp Necrophage Majoris. Reanimatic possessions are difficult to terminate.”

Kranz turned a wry eye to his red-robed companion. “Nurgle's Rot can be a bit of trouble, yes.” The Techpriest, for all her bluster about organics, still made the sign of the Machine God with her mechandrites when he mentioned the Lord of Plague by name. “Hope's Refuge was hospital ship in the Segmentum Pacificus, in support of the Sabbat Worlds Crusade, correct?”

“Yes, Inquisitor Kranz. It was lost to the Emperor's Light during a warp jump. We originally believed that there were saboteurs on board, who interfered with the Gellar fields. In light of this new evidence, it is my supposition that WMN and an unwitting carrier are a more likely culprit.”

“We've seen this before. The Rot spreads and infects not only its passengers, but the ship itself. The ship will have wards of succor, but given such repeated exposure...”

“Yes, your Holiness. It is likely the Hope's Refuge itself has been tainted, stem to stern. The post-incident encounters with the ship have all been the same. An Imperial ship, off course and lost in the warp, takes damage and casualties, encounters the Refuge, who reports to be lost in the same Warp storm. All appears normal; though scan reports from that time offer evidence of danger. The crew must be beguiled by some unknown force to ignore them. The Officers and medical crew are drawn off, to who knows what fate, and then the Refuge attacks the leaderless and medically depleted ship. Boarding parties consist of Class 1, 3 and 5 Abominations who seem to seek more raw genetic material to infect. Named and known Abominations are known to frequent these attacks.”

“Spread word throughout the Sector. Reclassify the ship as the Hope's Demise, and alert the Commissariat that officers that do not take hostile action against the vessel are to terminated at will. Let them blow through a few clips until they find someone willing to draw up a firing solution. Order them to double the amount of purifying incense in the bridge of any vessel that finds itself operating alone...”

“So shall it be done, Lord Kranz. Now, I must anoint the hololith's memory buffers, lest any taint remain...”

What's the story, Morning Glory?

Why do I put myself through the torture of dealing with Games Workshop as a hobbyist? Why does anyone?

That's an answer as individual as each hobbyist, but for me, it's because of the rich background that Games Workshop has stolen from just about everywhere. I don't blame them. Every artist steals. It's the synthesis that makes it great. How does all this theft get tied together and reintegrated into a new whole? That's the key.

It occured to me that I've let this vital portion of my hobby fall to the wayside. I think trying to be more competative has made me forget that story needs to trump rules at times, or burn out will occur. For that reason, I'm presenting my background story for the Celestial Lions 3rd Company to you, my audience of no one.
They honor those who fell at Armageddon, those who were doomed by their own government:

“To have faith in times such as these is easy. Man is beset from all sides by the Xenos, the traitor. The Emperor is our only refuge. But what of those whose faith is tested? What of those who have been judged, found wanting, and still believe? There is no greater faith than those who hold true after being brought low.”
--Brother-Captain Lerato Vinerex, Master of the Fleet

+++Lexicanum Entry: Restricted, Vermilion Access+++
Thought for the day: An open mind is like a fortress with its gates unbarred and unguarded.

The Celestial Lions are a Space Marine Chapter created in the 38th millennium. They have a long and glorious history. Recently, the highly naive nature of the Chapter led them into conflict with the Inquisition.

Background

During the event known as the Khattarn Insurrection, five companies of the Celestial Lions were attached to Inquisitor Apollyon in order to crush the ongoing revolt on the main planet, Khattar. The orbital defences were nothing to the Space Marines and they quickly landed on the planet, with virtually no opposition. As the campaign progressed and the number of prisoners increased, it became evident that this was no mere minor rebellion. Apparently the priesthood of Khattar had been corrupted and had led the leaders of the planet into the arms of Slaanesh. Local renegade Imperial Guard and Planetary Defence Force regiments were quickly defeated and within three months the rebellion was crushed. The detachment of the Celestial Lions boarded into their ships and left for their fortress monastery.

As the ships left orbit, the Imperial Navy, under orders of Inquisitor Apollyon, bombarded the planet, and obliterated the entire population of the planet. This action horrified the Celestial Lions who proceeded to condemn the Inquisitor. Captain Saul had attempted to halt the bombardment, but could not counter-order an Inquisitor. From then on, the Celestial Lions were highly vocal against the Inquisition, as it was unnecessary to destroy the planet. They sent a series of very loud and public condemnations against the Inquisition in general. A delegation of senior Chapter officers left for Terra to further their cause, but the ship never arrived. It was blown wildly off course by a freak warp storm, far into Ork territory. The wreckage was eventually found two years later, although this was not enough to deter the Celestial Lions, which kept demanding an investigation into the events surrounding the destruction of Khattar.

Their efforts, though valiant, were completely in vain. The Inquisition technically answers to no one but itself and the Emperor, intolerant of any outside pressure and criticism.

With the outbreak of the Third War for Armageddon, the entire chapter of the Celestial Lions dispatched was deployed to defend Hive Volcanus. They suffered horrendous casualties within months of arriving. The intelligence they received was horribly inaccurate and often led them into ambushes where they were outnumbered and outgunned. Some of the higher ranking officials began to suspect this was intentional, a ploy to wipe out the entire chapter, but nothing could be proven.

One particularly devastating battle was when four entire companies were wiped out in the Mannheim Gap by the combined forces of Warlord Thogfang's Gargant mob and the Razor Speed Freaks. Losses mounted and ended with a very well-coordinated attack on the Celestial Lions base camp.

This particular battle lasted for three hours. Hundreds of Marines fell to the overwhelming Ork forces. Sniper fire rained down from the mountain sides, relentlessly targeting the Apothecaries. Finally, a small company was able to break through the Ork lines and fight their way back to the Hive. Only ninety-six Marines survived and, to make matters worse, the last Apothecary took a bullet to the head within hours of arriving at the Hive. Their gene-seed lies unharvested on the surface of Armageddon and the remaining brothers have sworn to die alongside their fallen brothers, fighting to the last.

++END DOCUMENT/SECURE TERMINAL UPON PAIN OF DEATH+++

“It was true that we were thought to be doomed. But the Emperor saw us through that day. It is true that we are a shadow of what we once were, and that Armageddon was what broke us. But what is broken can heal. Is it not our burden as Space Marines to carry on, no matter the cost?”

--Brother Epistolary Marcus Alesius

It is whispered in some corners of the wide galaxy that one Apothecary was spared by the grace of the Emperor. Mortally wounded, he saw to his own internment in a dreadnought of the Third Company, Scipio’s Claw. Though nearly blinded by the pain, Brother Albus’s transformation from something more than man to something less than machine was accomplished. Though it pained them to do so, a large contingent of the Third Company smuggled themselves out of the ruins of Volcanus Hive, escaping with Albus to an awaiting Strike Cruiser.

Since then, those elements that survived the hell of Volcanus have rejoined their Battle Brothers. Though they are a shadow of their former glory, the Celestial Lions still keep the vows they made to uphold the will of the Emperor. They survive by the most tenuous of threads, but then again, what servant of the Emperor does not?

Remember, he looks better from three feet away

I ended up putting some paint on the Libby, and he's table top ready.

Celestial Lions Terminator Librarian with Storm Shield

It's a pity that the only way you can get a Librarian with a decent invulnerable save is to kit him out with a storm shield.



There's nothing too major going on with this 3rd Edition Librarian, other than a weapon swap. He was carrying the force axe in his left hand, and I had a fierce opposition to that. So, I cut away the storm bolter, pinned the axe in place, and affixed a Brettonian Footman's shield. I added an old shield boss from an Empire shield, and then sculpted the Lion Sigil from there.



I added the guitar wire to the axe to remind everyone that it's a force weapon. I also like the idea of thinking someone to death, even though it's unlikely that this guy will ever get that lucky. Librarians aren't really combat monsters anymore. He's there for the Null Zone/Vortex of Doom love he provides.

Another Work In Progress: Manticore

Who needs Forgeworld? Well, I don't need Forgeworld, but I sure as heck would like to have their models.

My poverty, but not my will, consents to convert. Of course, if I'm going to convert something, I'm going to make it look as good as I can instead of just throwing something on the table. The rear missile deck is going to magnetized, and the front sensor will be removeable, so the whole thing will be able to be converted into a chimera if I need more mech.

These are very much a WIP, so do bear with them.







I figure it'll be a fine companion to my bassie to medusa conversion:

So, I should be working on other projects, but of course, other things keep calling.

Like this:



A friend traded a defiler to me, and I foolishly just glued on the whip DCCW arm. But I'm going to magnetize the other arm to get as many options as I can. Of course, you can take a fourth DCCW arm, but the box comes with three (the whip and the two front claws). So, I had to build the above.



Of course, it is not yet finished, but I figure it's a good WIP. Think of him as this guy's big brother: