Getting back on track....

Spend last weekend in Las Vegas for football clinics so I got sorta side tracked. I did get my test model mostly finished and washed another 12 troops. This weekend we are going to be playing some 500pt games so hopefully I get some pictures in and some short battle reports.

Zitesul pt.1

     "There weren't enough of the Emperor's Angels here." Breven said as he strode down the corridor.
     The corridors were littered with the corpses of humans. Walls were splattered with blood and scorch marks. Lamps would spark showering the hall with light. The stench of death lingered through the rebreather of Zitesul's helm. "They are off defending their False Emperor's holdings. They will die soon enough.' Zitesul followed Breven onto the bridge, clapping a shoulder pad of a marine as he passed and kicked the body of one of the Emperor's dead Angels. "These whelps sure didn't give us much of a fight. Definitely not like their predecessors."
     Zitesul remembered back to the two largest battles he had been in. The first was at the beginning of the Great Betrayal. He was led on the battlefield by the same man who leads him now, Breven. Even though it was ten thousand years ago, the betrayal at the drop site on Istvaan V was always fresh in Zitesul's mind. It was as if he tried hard enough, he could still smell the air during the fight.
     There were thousands upon thousands of marines covering the land as far as Zitesul could see. The XIX Legion was falling back to his position using displacement and covering bolter fire. The engines of bikes and the roar of jump packs came at the line of Iron Warriors. Heavy bolters and flamers opened on the Raven Guard and they closed with speed and efficiency. The crackle of power weapons, the bark of bolt guns and the revving of chainswords and chainaxes filled the air. Dust began filling Zitesul's view as the fighting drew closer and closer and a bike came crashing through. A mace or axe of some sort caught Zitesul in the midsection taking him down. The biker kept his throttle down dragging Zitesul along side the bike.
     "Die, traitor!" The Raven yelled through his vox.
     His power armor was taking a beating along the earth as the bike continued away from the fight. Both his bolt pistol and boltgun were lost. His chainaxe would most likely had been lost had he not taken to chaining it to his hand. He was thankful for the ritual he had seen done by some of the World Eaters and how he applied it to his own weapon. Zitesul could only speak through each bump or rock that he hit while skidding along the rocky terrain. "If. You. Keep. Going. Like. This. I. Just. Might."
     The bike rode up a jagged mountain side taking the smoothest path possible and moving at a high rate of speed. The massive battle at the drop site was still in view until more than half way up the mountain. The view changed from drop pods, rhinos, land raiders and hundreds of thousands of space marines to what looked like an endless mountain range. A clear sky blanketing the peaks in a soft pillow. If one didn't know any better, one could believe that the greatest betrayal in the history of the Imperium was not even taking place.
     The Raven brought the bike to a stop after a long while. He dropped his head, listening to the vox or sending his own to whatever was left of his squad or Legion. He pulled the pointed hammer from just under the breastplate of Zitesul, dismounted his bike off the right side and unsheathed his gladius. "You broke a solemn oath to the Emperor of Mankind, traitor. Prepare yourself for death."
     Zitesul rolled over onto his belly with a grunt of effort. The paint from his armor had been stripped away and all that remained was dull ceremite. His helm was beyond repair, both lenses broken out and the top cracked in half. He slowly slid his knees up under himself, gaining his bearings on where he was and what might be broken inside of himself. "I believe.' He said with a very gruff voice, "That you might have broken quite a few things inside of me." Zitesul placed his left hand on the side of the bike for leverage and to his astonishment, the chainaxe was still there. A little worse for wear, but it was there. He sat back on his heels and removed his broken helm showing his blood stained smile.
     "You will pay for your treachery here, traitor!" The Raven spat.
     "I'm sure I will.' Zitesul replied dryly as he slowly got to his feet. "Not just going to shoot me? How honorable of you."
     "I don't know how you can live turning from the Emperor's light. Turning on your own brothers." The Raven stalked around his prey.
     "Honestly brother, I don't know how I lived through that ride." Zitesul said with a crooked smile on his face.
     "Do not call me brother, traitor!" The Raven yelled.
     "Yes. Yes. Well then.' Zitesul rolled his shoulders back and tilted his head to the side cracking his neck. "Do you plan on using those weapons or are you going to bore me to death with a lecture?"
     The Raven gave no more words, but gave a warcry filled with hate as he lunged at Zitesul. The chainaxe roared to life as it parried the swing of the hammer and Zitesul had to jump back skidding his feet and lifting his arms as the Raven swung his gladius back through towards his mid section.
     Zitesul moved out to his left, away from the bike. "I've not had the chance to fight a member of the XIX Legion before. You are quite fast, brother.' Another lunge and clash of weapons. The Raven swung the gladius back towards the mid section again and this time Zitesul grabbed the wrist with his right hand using the Raven's momentum to start a spin. He brought the chainaxe down across the Raven's back from his right shoulder to left hip. His power pack ruined and a deep gash through the ceremite into his superhuman body. The Raven fell to his knees. The whirl of his power armor gone. The pain and weight too much to bear.
     The Raven unbuckled the seals on his helmet and pushed it off showing his pale face. "My brothers will see to your death for these atrocities." He whispered as he spit up blood.
     "No. No. I don't think so, Raven.' Zitesul shook his head as he walked to the front of the kneeling space marine, picked up the Raven's helm and sealed it to his armor. The retinal displays came to life showing the life signs of what remained of his squad. The vox became active and he heard the battle for a few moments before speaking. "How goes the battle, brothers? Do you miss me?"
     The first to speak was Breven. "I had thought we lost you, brother. You were taken far from the battle."
     Zitesul read the information readouts in the helm checking the distances he had to travel to get back into the fight. He clicked his vox again. "Any information on enemies that may be heading my way?"
     "Several have broken the lines trying to escape the wrath of the Warmaster. There may be small groups heading your way."
     "Well brothers, if you will excuse me, I will continue my venture through these hills and take in more of the scenery of Istvaan V.' Zitesul heard some of his brothers laugh before shutting off the vox and looked back down the mountain to a cloud of dust moving his way. The lenses of his new helmet enhanced his view of two bikes ridden by two more Raven Guard. Most likely following a beacon on the bike he was standing next too. "It is about time we part ways, Raven."
     "I told you.' The Raven stopped to take a short breath. "They would come."
     Zitesul started the chainaxe and did a backhanded swing across the Raven removing his head. He kept the motion turning himself to the bike on which he began to sit. There was a boltgun strapped under a rear saddle bag. He pulled it free, checked the ammunition, shrugged and placed it back where it was. The bike started with a roar and Zitesul smiled. "He should have just shot me."

More coming...

I have more fiction on the way. I also painted up a test model last night which turned out really well. I cant wait to get a whole army done. It looks so nice. Pictures and fiction coming soon. ;)

Kane and Masreal

The two stalked the hallways of the Space Station. One preying on the cries of the innocent, one taking pleasure killing the peasants following the False Emperor. They moved through the corridors entering room after room bringing their form of justice upon those that deserved it. They had just cleared an entire barricade filled with guardsmen.
Kane stopped, looked over the dead bodies and down the next long hallway. Many humans were running from door to door or away from the oncoming wrath. "We are moving into the final quadrant of level fifteen, Warsmith. The smart ones are being driven to the cages. The rest have been cleared.' Kane did not wait for a response and looked at Masreal. "Their fear is intoxicating."
Kane was a former member of the VIII Legion left for dead and found by the Warsmith leading to the joining of the Sons of Iron. He stood in Midnight Clad and with a ceremonial helm. It was said that he told Warlord Prillis "I have knelt before my father in these colors. I have walked upon Terra during the Great Betrayal in these colors. I will fight for you, but I will forever be dressed in Midnight Clad." Other members of the VIII Legion had joined the Sons of Iron at different times, but Kane was the only one to keep his loyalty to the VIII Legion.
Masreal nodded and checked his bolt pistols. "Your addiction to their fear has always puzzled me, but perhaps that is why we work well together. I love to make them suffer."
"Yes. It is odd that we work well together. I've told you many times that my brothers would have murdered you simply because of your Legion." Kane began walking down the hallway, turned back to Masreal, gave him a side nod to have him follow and walked again down the hall.
Masreal holstered his pistols, unlocked his long Relic Blade and began walking down the hall after Kane "And I told you, I was watching over my home at the times of those battles with your Legion."
"My true brothers wouldn't care, Masreal. They would kill you as slow as possible and make trophies from your body parts. It would be an orcestra of pain. I would not be able to stop them."
They both stopped and it was Masreal's turn to clear this room. He stood at the ready and entered. A few screams and many thuds came from the room. Kane titled his head up with his eyes closed smelling the air through his vents. The sounds of screams and fear filled him with pleasure. Masreal then stepped from the room, blood still sizzling on the power field of his sword. "The other members of the VIII Legion haven't tried anything."
"Perhaps they were not around during the Great Betrayal or prehaps they do not know your origins or why you wear those colors."
They both stopped near the next door, Kane poised to enter. He opened the door and shut off the light inside. His sillouette was all the occupants could see against the light of the hallway. Kane let out a low chuckle, took a step inside and the screams started. Masreal moved to the door and watched. "The rumors of my past deeds have been spread through the warband. I'm sure they have heard them."
"I'm busy." Kane grunted.
"You are correct though, they may not know the colors. They may think I am a son of Corax."
"I said I am busy." The anger in Kane's voice was audible.
"I am a true Angel of Death. Perhaps I should let everyone know. Not just have it be whispered in rumors."
Kane came walking out of the room and shoved his gladius in Masreal's face. "You ruined that room. I get the next.' Masreal nodded in agreement and they started walking to the next closed door.
"I think rumors are best." Masreal said as he brought up his Relic Blade.
"You better put that sword away and keep your mouth shut this time." Kane tried to open the door and it wouldn't budge. He turned his head back to Masreal. "Your mouth has kept you from the best kills." Kane kicked in the door and the screams began.
"It is my curse. I have been kept from all the great battles of my Legion. Honor was kept from me. That is why I stay with the Sons of Iron you know. We seem to find battles quite often. Wouldn't you agree?" Masreal smiled behind his helmet.
"Shut your mouth, Dark Angel, or I will make it so you never talk again.' Kane emerged from the room several minutes later, his gladius dripping with blood. He pointed the weapon at Masreal. "You came close to death."
Masreal laughed. "If history is any indication of the outcome of a fight between the First and Eighth, you shouldn't start one."
"True. But we do not fight in the past, cousin." Kane used the gladius to wave Masreal to follow. "This is the last in this quadrant."
Masreal moved to the front of the door, unlocked his Relic Blade and looked at Kane. "What are our duties after this is cleared?"
"The Warsmith hasn't given any orders."
"Perhaps the Warlord will want to keep this wreck and we will get to fight against some real opponents." Kane shrugged and Masreal entered the room. There were not many screams and several minutes later Masreal was in the doorway, Relic Blade maglocked and a small childs decapitated head being held by the hair in his left hand. Blood still dripping from it's jagged neck.
Kane tilted his head and looked at Masreal's hand. "We weren't supposed to kill the children. They were to be taken back and raised as slaves."
Masreal raised the head up until it was looking at him face to face. He then flung it over his shoulder back into the room. "Did you let any live?" He asked as he moved past Kane moving on into another corridor.
Kane smiled under his helmet. "No. No I didn't." He said as he fell in line with his fellow Son of Iron.

First fiction for the Sons of Iron....

The Sons of Iron came into the system at the ready. The space hulk Portent of Terror was at the center of an armada consisting of seventeen ships heading towards an Imperial space station. An amalgamation of several large imperial battleships lost in the warp, the Portent of Terror was one giant spaceship. The Sons of Iron came across the space hulk by chance and spent two standard weeks clearing it of it's inhabitants. It took Warpsmith Verral another three standard weeks to get the space hulk's seperate machine spirits to combine and work together as one. Once the machine spirits melded, the armaments needed to be brought on line and that took him another standard week.

Warpsmith Verral then moved on to creating a main bridge in the center of the barge. He calculated the space Warlord Prillis needed to maneuver and spaced the consoles and servitors so that the Warlord could view the void clearly and move without feeling restricted. The main skull throne sat on a dais in the middle of the circular bridge. It was higher than normal command thrones, but the further away Warlord Prillis was from his human officers, the better off they were. The humans with the greatest resolve were chosen as officers as Prillis had a sickening effect on most of them.

The next step down on the dais was steering and weapons control. Many consoles stretched across the platform in front of the throne. One for every ship that was a part of the Portent of Terror. At the end of the consoles was a smaller dais with a chair and several computer monitors. This area had access to all the vital information on the hulk and was the command station of Captain Levus. Everything that happened on the Portent of Terror went through him.

The last step down was sensors and ship readouts. This was the level where all the humans would enter and exit the bridge. There was always constant movement at this level. A small representation of the constant movement all over the hulk.

The two adjoining rooms were for the Warlord. On the left was his personal chambers where he kept his personal effects and trophies. An even larger throne made of skulls was the main center piece of the room. The majority of the skulls were human shaped, but there were many other species scattered about the throne. There were two Tyrannofex skulls taken from a battle on Styml Prime created the armrests of the throne. The top of the throne had a large Ork skull taken from a Warboss on Woosk IV. All the skulls brough back memories of the battles from which he got them.

On the right was a war room much larger than the bridge where plans for the Warband were made. A large projector table was in the middle and three quarters of the room circulated up in a stadium style seating. The large form of Warlord Prillis was at the projector table checking the system on his own not waiting for his servitors and human officers to relay information. Warsmith Breven entered at the top of the room dressed in full plate. The silver, purple and black polished to a high shine.

A deep rumble left the Warlord's mouth. "Hello brother."

"Greetings brother. You wished to see me?" He said through the vox of his helmet.

Warlord Prillis was tapping buttons with his large claws. "I wanted your input. I am suspicious."

Breven started walking down the steps. "Our spies are sound. The information looks to be up to date and spot on. There are no ships in the quadrant and our attack will be swift."

"Just because you picked these spies does not mean they are sound." The Warlord's metal jaw clicked and was caught open. Saliva dripped to the floor leaving small burn marks where ever it landed. Prillis worked his metal face until his jaw clicked back into place. His metal teeth scraping together.

Breven made it to the projector and stood across from Prillis. "Do not worry yourself, brother. Scanners have picked up the Angels at the other end of the system meaning we will be just fine. Honestly brother, you are getting worse."

Prillis and Breven were true brothers. They were taken at the same time for the trials. They both worked their way through the 21st Grand Company. And they were the ones who took their squads and left the Iron Warriors. Prillis had begun his ascension threatening the current Warsmith and his power. The backstabbing within the Iron Warriors was rampant. Everyone was trying to win favor with Perturabo while he sat upon his throne on Medrengard passing the time making toys. The brothers wanted more.

Many more marines followed them taking ships from their Warsmith's armada. A few were lost, but what they gained out weighted it. The hierarchy of the warband was simple. Prillis and his new gifted form would be Warlord and Breven would be his second as Warsmith. Everything else within the warband would function as normal. The brothers wanted to bring a sense of honor back to their Legion and the way to bring that back was not sitting on one's hands, but bringing death to the False Emperor and his followers.

Breven never understood why his brother would get paranoid at the slightest things, but he did not have the gifts of his brother. He did not give up his body and soul as Prillis had. He had seen what could happen to those that displeased the Gods and no reward was worth the possibility of that.

"The Gods are fickle, brother. If I wish to ascend, I cannot fail." Prillis said as his metal teeth chattered together.

"We will not fail. The Gods helped us come from the warp at a point no one else could. The space station is ours as this system will be." Breven smiled behind his helmet as he watched his brother look upon the space station and his ships moving towards it.

Ulan sat silently waiting. He would check his las pistol every so often then check his watch, then a look out into the void and back to the las pistol. He looked over to the other four playing cards. "This is taking forever."

Jax rocked back on the two back legs of his chair and looked at his latest addition to his group of scoundrels. "Aww, relax mate. You're part is done. We'll be leavin real soon for the fun stuff." On his lap was a little hairless creature with no eyes. It had skin that would ripple between deep purple and black and it would crawl all over him like a small primate. Jax rubbed the creatures head and it gave a light rumble.

Ulan pointed to the creature. "That thing is creepy."

"You're creepy, mate."

The group of men began to laugh relieving the tension for a moment and that moment ended quickly. The creature moved to Jax's ear and began to chatter.

"Right. Time to move. Lets get loaded up. We got ten til things bust loose."

The rest of them started putting on backpacks, grabbing large duffle bags and checking weapons. Jax snapped a buckle around his waste to secure his backpack, checked his las pistol and started walking out the door. "Let's do this. Stay in the shadows."

Wil filled his cup and took a sip looking over at Dell. "Nothing ever happens here." He said as he leaned against the wall. For the most part, he was correct. Nothing did happen around here except the transfer of raw materials and goods for shipment to other Imperial systems. Sure, the Space Marines would dock and restock their supplies. They were always present, but never really seen. No one really knew how many there actually were. To this day, the defenses of the space station had never been used. Wil didn't even know if they worked. Hell, he didn't even know if the alarms worked.

At that moment, the alarms went off. Both he and Dell broke into a run to their control room in order to see what the problem was. They jumped into their seats and clicked the vox. "This is station twelve, we are picking up seventeen ships on the scanners. Very close. One very big. Calling for conformation." Wil let the vox drop waiting for conformation before cycling the weapons system live. He waited several seconds.

The voice that responded was female and had a hint of indecision behind it."This is station five. We confirm. All stations going live. Distress call going out. Defense system being brought online."

Dell hit the vox switch. "This is station twe... twe... twelve. Acc... acc..' he cleared his throat. "Acknowledged." He turned to Wil who was slumped over and foam coming from his mouth. He was moaning. The room began to swirl and tilt. Dell's body started to become very hard to move. He could not form words. Somehow through the corner of his eye he saw a figure standing in the doorway. He tried to move, tried to say something, but nothing happened.

The figure in the doorway took a step into the control room and was followed by more people. He stopped and knelt next to Dell and grabbed his chin to bring them face to face. "Aw mate, it will be all over soon. After hearing your friend, it's sad you are going to miss all the action.' Jax snapped his fingers and pointed at the bodies. They were removed and he took his seat. "Right. Time to set up these defenses. Start blocking the entrances to this level. Lockdown this entire floor."

He then punched in a secret frequency to contact the Portent of Terror. After a few moments a servitor answered the signal and Jax left his message. "The defenses on your trajectory are down. Should be an easy ride in, Portent."

"Confirmed." Was all he heard.

Prillis!

Well, except for the basing, the paint is done on Warlord Prillis. I'm no Golden Daemon winner, but I think it is decent table top quality. Also, the first part of Sons of Iron fiction is almost done which I am excited about.

Sons of Iron are here...

With a WIP of my Khorne Deamon Prince Prillis. The Sons of Iron is a warband primarily from the Iron Warriors and will be chaos undivided. Silver, purple and black will be the colors. The Daemon Prince has a long ways to go yet, but I got the basic colors in place so it is a decent WIP. I'm still waiting on the silver Army Painter I ordered from the warstore to get here and I ordered 60 skulls from some guy on eBay. I'm going to hang those from my marines with a little silve chain that I ordered at work. It should be awesome.

Well, back to my writing and painting. I'm writing fiction for my warband. Hopefully you all will like it.