fan based · fan made · fiction · miniatures.

Black Library Submission – take 2

I was unsure whether I was going to bother entering anything for the Black Library Open Submissions this time around. I’ve been busy getting the commission business all set up and going and I spent the majority of my time painting. It would be a shame not to though, these opportunities don’t come around very often and it would be a waste not to take it while it’s there.

The theme this time is Brotherhood, with a choice of different themes to write within that. They want to see groups of individual working together, and seeing how I like creating Warbands and such, it gave me the kick I needed to flesh out some of my half created characters.

I decided to go for the group who would have made the diorama had I finished it in time. The Ludicrous Seven. They consist of the following character:

Kycius – an Iron Warrior who likes to think he is in charge.

Roushal – A Noise Marine who talks too fast and too much.

Abraxas – A Khorne Berzerker who is surprisingly together when not in a fight.

Festus – A Plague Marine – he needs the most work.

Shabaka – A Thousand Son sorcerer with delusions of grandure

Sarlath – A Night Lord without the ability to speak

Davidus – An Ultramarine Skeleton.

They are an interesting bunch who are slowly taking shape in my mind. I have a lot of work to do on them, but I have a rough outline and a plot that grows each day. I am looking forward to seeing where their tale goes at the very least! For now, have this short scribble and some pictures of the miniatures:

Crouching behind an overly large rock, the three of them exchanged glances. Between them and their target were countless more of the demon things. Kycius sucked in a breath. Before he could stop him, Roushal poked his head up before immediately ducking down. “There’s ten thousand, I counted real quick.” Kycius looked at Shabaka, who rolled his eyes.

 

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40K · fan based · fan made · fiction · figures · fine detail · fun · hobby · miniatures. · painting · sci fi · science fiction · space marines · warhammer · Warhammer 40000 · Warhammer 40k · Wh40K

Team Mental

I’m not entirely sure what I am going to do with these guys. A lot of what I am painting has been bought second hand so I have had no real control over what they look like. I have no idea what his intentions were with these Marines I am currently painting. They see, to be a mishmash of different parts.

I think I will end up using them as veterans but I keep referring to them as Team Mental. No one wants to be on Team Mental, they’re all crazy…

They are fun to paint however and I will continue to keep at them, they’re not looking too shabby in my humble opinion.

40K · blue · Chapter Master · fan based · fan made · fiction · fine detail · hobby · miniatures. · painting · psycho · sci fi · science fiction · space marines · taking stock · warhammer · Warhammer 40000 · Warhammer 40k

Gravus Nurion – Chapter Master

 When the other half brought home a load of models the other day, I have to confess I was a little bit on the exited side. Alright so this is a little bit sad too but I can live with that.

We laid out all the Space Marines and took stock of what was there. There were enough there to complete several squads, which is great, There were also several terminators, some veterans and this guy pictures on the left.

The figures were already undercoated blue so it did not take all that long to touch them up and make them look as though they had always been with the others. We decided that this model would make a good Chapter Master and so here he is in all his bright blue glory.

The part I am most pleased with is the line of blue on the cloak. It’s not painted free hand, I am not steady enough for that I don’t think but is raised up. The psycho was employed and I managed to highlight it too – something I have never really thought of doing before.

I have also managed to free hand paint the Chapter symbol on the left shoulder-pad and write his name under it. Again, something I was unsure about doing but seems to have worked out rather well.

Now, because Gravus Nurion is a little bit on the important side, I spent a bit of time asking questions. I’ve shared one of the answers below:

How did you become Chapter Master?

·         When the former Chapter Master was killed, it was decreed that I should take his place. I’m not going to start this off with an ‘it was a dark and stormy night’ if that is what you are expecting. Alvar was well known for his cavalier attitude when it came to a fight and it was this that finally caught up with him.
Hand print and name!
“I remember them bringing back what was left of him, not much more than pulp, certainly nothing recognisable. After they recovered his gene-seed, which was a miracle in itself, he was laid out. His work for the Emperor had ended, leaving us behind to pick up the pieces and move forward. The atmosphere within the Chapter was solemn for a long while, his were large boots to fill and he had been Chapter Master for a long time and was well liked.
“It was about two hundred and fifty years ago that Alvar was killed. I had been First captain for about fifty or so. I was voted in by the other captains unanimously, a point of which I am most proud.”

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The legend of Leonaci Conucifer and the raging Azhut – Part 1


The series of clicks that echoed on the bridge of the Valiant sounded like nothing they had ever heard before. That is was language was clear, there was structure in the sounds, however what was making the noise was not. A few furtive looks were passed around the bridge. The source of the noise appeared to be a small planet in the little known Andemi system, just a short way off their course. 
Skepphon Alvar, Chapter Master of the Black Hands, turned to his First Captain and frowned, “What do you think?” he asked. 
Leonaci Conucifer knew that Alvar would have his thoughts on the matter already; he would want to know what his were and whether they differed. “Could be anything sir,” he replied.
“Worth investigating do you think?”
“What do we know about where it’s coming from?” He was handed a data-slate which had the sparse details on and a small frown puckered his craggy brow. Looking back to the Chapter Master he nodded, “A colony was established there once but no contact has been had since the Great Crusade, might as well take a look,” he said. 
“It might be nothing,” Alvar said.
“But it might be something and we would be remiss in our duty if we ignored it,” Conucifer countered. The Chapter Master clapped him on the shoulder plate and nodded.
“My thoughts exactly,” he said.
***
Twenty hours later, the Valiant was anchored in orbit around Omman, the fourth planet in the Andemic system. The vibrant green ball below them hung suspended in the depths of space almost like a promise. Conucifer stood with his team, five reliable Astartes from the second company, knowing that they were walking into a complete mystery. Inside the Razorback that was to be their back up, they waited in silence.
It did not take long for the Thunderhawk to deposit them on the surface of the planet, leaving them there to perform their duty; discover what was happening on the surface of Omman and where the noises had come from. The moment they were out the Thunderhawk, they scanned the location for any signs of life. The location was near where the long range sensors of the Battle Barge had picked something up. It seemed the most likely place for sentient beings to exist. There was no evidence of life other than the plants around them.
Most of the planet surface was swamp, which gave off a foul smelling gas, it gave the planet the green appearance they had seen from space. This particular part of the planet however was mostly free from water and most vegetation, instead the dull grey rock showed through providing a stable surface for the Razorback to drive over. 
“That ridge there,” indicated Conucifer, “If anything is going to be living here it would be on that patch of ground.”
Scitek Thelis, the chaplain of the squad, gave a nod. “It would make the most sense,” he agreed. The ground turned rockier after that and it soon became clear that the tank would not be able to follow them up the craggy part of the ridge; they would have to do that on foot.  
The squad left the tank behind and climbed up the ridge, the lingering stink of swamp filtering through the breathers as they went. Everything here was tainted with the smell of rotten eggs. The only sound that could be heard was the crunch of stone under boots as they travelled up the steep slope. 
“Sir!” Torfis, one of the squad, said. He gestured to a piece of rock jutting from the ground that appeared to have deep claw marks imbedded into it. Conucifer walked over for a closer look and nodded, the chaplain followed close behind.
“I don’t know about this,” Conucifer said with a shake of his head. “Looks like scratches.”
“From an animal perhaps?” Torfis asked.
“No, they’re too precise,” Thelis said “If you look, they’re marked just so. The distance between them is indicative of intelligence,” he said, pointing out the marks. It was subtle but it was there.
“Alright, keep moving, we’re bound to find something sooner or later,” Conucifer said, “And it’s likely to have claws!” he added. There was a half-hearted chuckle from the others and they began to move forward once again. 
Cresting the ridge, the wind picked up, tugging at the five of them as they slowly made their way over the rugged terrain. At one end of the ridge was what appeared to be a cave mouth; the shadows were thick, the wind blowing towards the looming maw. Conucifer indicated that was the way they were going; there was nothing else on the ridge of note, except more rocks.
The approach to the mouth of the cave was silent, the wind dying the closer they got. The gloom deepened. A disturbing smell emanated from the cave, permeating the air. Conucifer’s grip tightened on his bolter. His finger rested on the small bar that would send shots into the darkness. Taking a deep breath, he forced the anticipation down; he needed to think rationally. The rest of the team would be thinking the same; it was always so just before stepping into the unknown.
Just to be sure, Conucifer made sure his chain sword was ready too. The weapon was a favourite of his, ever trusty; there were things a chain sword could do that a bolter couldn’t. The squad moved forward, approaching the dark mouth of the cave. A drip of water, amplified by the silence like a metronome, ticked away. Rocks crumbled. His head snapped around. Nothing. 
Then it happened…
fan based · fan made · fiction · fun · hobby · numbers · painting · science fiction · space marines · taking stock · Warhammer 40000 · Warhammer 40k

Space Marine Sunday

Sometimes, you have to stop and take stock of things before you know how to proceed. When the other half suggested we spend the day Sunday ‘Playing with Space Marines’, I was only too happy to comply.

Pretty sure there is space for more people here!

I will be the first to hold my hand up and say I don’t really have much of a clue about what I am doing, just picking bits up here and there and doing a lot of editing and reading around the subject. I do enjoy learning the new aspects of this hobby however and my enthusiasm is making up for a lot of what I do not know.

Seeing everything we have laid out in all its ‘glory’ sure helped, though not everything has been built yet. It illustrated that the focus of this Chapter is going to be the use of tanks, of which we have many.


The intention is to split the squads of ten into two groups of five and transport them in the Razorbacks to the field of battle. This helped me picture some of the background for how squads are trained, of which there will be a story coming soon featuring some of the characters I have drafted – some of which I have already written about, some of which are new.

 I did spend the rest of the day painting a further two dudes, which takes us up to a grand total of three finished ones. Only nine hundred and ninety seven left to go! Now that my friends is progress!

fan based · fan made · fiction · sci fi · science fiction · space marines · Warhammer 40000 · Warhammer 40k

Victory


The city burned, fire lit up the night sky. First Captain Corvinus Adas looked upon the handiwork of his brothers with pride. Of course, the fires had been started by the very creatures that had inhabited this city before they’d arrived. The dumb animals had been in the middle of some sort of fight when they had landed via the drop pods. It had just made their job that much easier. The dead greenskins were another matter entirely.
The moment the foul orks had been made aware of their arrival, the infighting had stopped and the battle had commenced. Instead of fighting each other, they had turned to them. The firing had been intense after that. The charge down the ramps had been clean and the shooting simple enough. The weapons of their foes had been simple balistics, destructive but prone to self-destruction too. It had taken little under an hour to defeat them all.
What remained now was to find the rest of the squad and get them back together again, return to the Valiantand report to Nurion. Flicking the excess gore from his chainsword, he disregarded the broken corpse of the ork leader at his feet and tried to raise his companions via the Vox Channel, “Roll call,” he barked, needing to know who was still there. These were simple foes; there should have been no casualties.
Surprisingly, the vox was silent. He blinked and looked over his shoulder, the landscape behind him showed more burning buildings. Thick smoke curled into the atmosphere and the stench of death filled the air. Adas could not see any of his brothers and the radio was utterly silent. He tapped the side of his helmet and rolled his eyes. He would kick the ass of the servitor who had caused this malfunction, if that was indeed what it was. Static filled his ear and he spoke again, “Black Hands, Roll Call.”
“Adas, that you?” The voice of Thoss. The voice of the chaplain was welcome, not that he would let him know that.
“Third time, Roll Call!” he snapped. 
“Thoss.”
“Polonus.”
“Taran.”
“Nulux.”
“Phorion.”
“Ventagus.”
“Abiam.”
That was that dealt with, the eight from his pod had made it through. The rest of the captains would be in touch shortly. All he had to do now was make it back to his squad, wherever that was. “Where are you?” he quipped.
“There is a burning spire to our right,” Thoss said. Adas looked up and saw a burning building slightly taller than the rest of the city, that must be it. How had he managed to come so far without his brothers? 
“On my way,” he replied. No more time was wasted and he began heading to where his brothers were. He made his way through the dead street, the heavy footfalls of his power armour echoing ahead of him. The dead littered the gutter, if it could be called that, the evidence of his wrath clear by the scars of his chainsword on the bodies of his victims. The only sound he could hear was the pop and crackle of fire.
The noise of a building crumbling did not quite mask a heavier noise and Adas brought his sword to bear once more. The lumbering green form of an ork hurled straight towards him, bursting from the depths of the building, sending sparks and wood up into the dense atmosphere. The rolling, mad red eyes were set into a hideous face; leathery skin covered its skull and grotesque tusks jutted from its lower jaw. The thing towered over him as it charged forward. The thing was screaming a deep throated, “Waaagh,” as it ran forward, a brutal looking axe clutched in its green hands..
“No Mercy! Mortiferus!” Adas shouted back. His sword blocked the sweep of the axe with a loud clang. He brought a powered boot up and kicked the charging thing back from him. The ork staggered, though not so much as he wanted it to. Growling, he followed the stinking creature. Now it was his turn to go on the offensive. Without giving the ork chance to right it, he crashed his clenched fist down onto the top of its head, sending it sprawling into the blood stained ground. 
The next sound was the rev of the chain on his sword and the wet splatter of flesh being sundered. A single scream turned into a wet cry, ending in a hiss which was more blood spewing out of the wound than anything else. Adas once again flicked gore from his blade and looked up. The rest of the company were now at the end of the street and he nodded, “There are always more orks,” he said over the vox. He could see the white helmet of the apothecary, Taran, nod at the sentiment and he straightened up.
Leaving the corpse in a broken heap, he returned to the rest of the unit arriving in mere seconds. “Don’t stand there looking pretty, back to the pod for pick up.”
With his words, the spell that had held the squad transfixed was broken and they followed his orders. Pick up would be via Thunderhawk Transport, which would take care of both them and the pod, returning them to the battle barge Valiant. Once there, Adas could inform Chapter Master Nurion of their success, and perhaps arrange for some sort of celebration too. They had scored a victory against the Xeno threat in the name of the Emperor after all, and that was something worth celebrating.
Mounting the ramp to the pod, he looked over his shoulder at the destruction they were leaving behind. The mess would be dealt with by the ‘lesser mortals’, their work here was done. His chest swelled with pride once more, pride in their handiwork, pride in the deeds of his brothers and pride in knowing they had served the Emperor well this day.
Chapter Master · fan based · fan made · fiction · sci fi · science fiction · space marines · Warhammer 40000 · Warhammer 40k

Segine Hammercleaver


Segine Hammercleaver was a beautiful man; there was that to be said about him. Even with most of him encased in a large suit of red and white power armour, his face was still fairer than any Gravus Nurion had ever seen. Gravus looked across at the other Chapter Master and ran an oversized hand over his short dark hair. This meeting was informal, a discussion about a Chaos incursion that was happening on the nearby planet of Accatran. Although it was of little strategic value due to its close location to the Maelstrom, it did manufacture weaponry used by the Imperial Army, making it rather useful.
Gravus looked up at Hammercleaver, wondering why he had been called in to this meeting. His Chapter were currently engaged with the Orks, though that particular war was coming to its conclusion in a most satisfactory manner. Despite this, he would rather be with them than sitting here; it was a waste of his time. Corvinus would be taking care of the war while he was here speaking about Accatran, “What is to be done?” he asked, giving his attention back to the other Chapter Master. Why this message couldn’t have been sent through an astropath was another thought that struck him and he pressed his lips together in thought.
“You know how this goes,” Hammercleaver said.
He knew alright but that didn’t mean he was just going to accept it, “Tell me anyway,” Gravus said.
Hammercleaver rolled his eyes before speaking; unable to hide his thoughts as well as he thought he could. “The astropath message was intended for you, it was intercepted by us instead. You were close by so instead of sending another missive through the warp I delivered it myself,” he said. There was no mistaking the snort at the end of his speech but Gravus kept his contempt in check. He was about to say something when one of The Brotherhood’s serfs stumbled in.
Both Chapter Master’s turned to look at the interruption, the colour drained from the unfortunate servant’s face. By the look of his clothing, robes rather than the rags, this was Hammercleaver’s Ordinator. The Ordinator backed out of the room, shutting the large door behind him. Gravus turned away from the mistaken intrusion but did not miss the slight tug of annoyance between the other’s perfect brow or the clenching of his encased fist either. He did not doubt that there would be some repercussion later on.
The door shut and the attention was turned back to the important matter: war. “So, you’ll take The Black Hands to Accatran. Surely the simple task of beating a few heretics is no match for your warriors…” Gravus bristled. Looking over Hammercleaver’s perfect features, from the blonde hair to the green of his eyes, he realised he would like nothing more than to punch some flaws into him.
“Of course not,” he spat, “We’ll do the job easily enough.” He refrained from adding anything about the Brethren being unable to do so; it would merely be turned around by sugary words and only serve to make him angrier. He rose then, wanting to be as far away from this warrior as he could. Beautiful he might be but there was something rotten inside that core of his and Gravon did not want to hang around. His manners were not forgotten however, he gave his peer a polite nod of his head before returning to his escort, a small guard of his warriors.
“Good luck,” Segine called after him.
“We don’t need luck,” he retorted before exiting the room.