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Grotsmasha's Conversion Challenge 2: Librarians Completions


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Stormseer Tangre got onto his personal steed, the Doom-Bringer. The rivalry with the Dark Angels was starting to heat up and though the sons of the Khan were loathed to do so, the need for assistance was great. There were allies that could be called upon who had stood by his chapter in times past. Ancient oaths of brotherhood that tied the fate of so many together if the need should arise. The Great Khan himself had bade this quest and so the Librarian of the 7th Company of the White Scars prepared to ride into the ether to seek out those of a different creed he called brothers.

 

There were many ways to open a portal. He had seen a Salamander split a pillar of flame and Mantis Warriors enter a blur in reality. His preferred method was to tear a hole in the universe. It was unsubtle but few would argue its effectiveness. Tangre raised his left hand and began to call on the storm. Words of power issued from his lips and a ball of azure fire formed in his palm. Once it grew twice the size of his fist and vaguely resembled a grinning skull of flame Tangre wound back his arm and threw the burning skull.

 

If anyone else were to witness the act, they would have sworn the projectile collided with the air itself. A blue oval expanded and stood shimmering in the air. The center of the oval was a screaming vortex that seemed to stretch into infinity. It hung expectantly in place, as if patiently waiting for Tangre to make his move. The ritual complete, the Stormseer grimaced as revved his engine and entered oblivion...

 

This is my entry and for the sake of the disclosure, the backpack is from Severin Loth.

 

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v120/trex238/Stormseer1_zps95232bed.jpg

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v120/trex238/Stormseer2_zps10fe7f50.jpg

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v120/trex238/Stormseer4_zpseb60f481.jpg

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v120/trex238/Stormseer3_zps402643a0.jpg

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v120/trex238/Stormseer5_zps79871baa.jpg

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I've had another busy week, hence the late update, but first, some comments to our latest completions.

 

Aquilanus: I reacon he'll look sweet once he dons the RW paint scheme.

Brother Chaplain Kage: Very nice GS work there, and an excellent piece of fluff to back up the fantastic conversion. 

Captain Sox: olid kit-bash, no nonsense pose.

exetus: I said it before, I'll say it again, that dude has some serious blades...

Malus Trux: Bad ass Storm Seer you've got there, can't wait to see it all painted up, White Scars have a pretty cool scheme.

Midnight Runner: That is one intimidating dude!!!! 

Thirdfox: As much as I think the TWC fluff is stupid, I absolutely love the models, and yours is no exception

 

 

 

@ furioso-prime: Same as Chaplains, one month off for me to select a winner an make the banners and pips.

 

Alrighty then, time for our Week 3 update.

 

We finished last week with 31 participants and have added a further 6, bringing our total to 37 participants, our new comers are;

 

Aquilanus

Bitz_Addict

Malus Trux

noctus cornix

Raztalin

Thirdfox

 

Have at the participation banner you guys.

 

 

Weeks 1 and 2 saw us with 17 excellent completions, Week 3 has shown us more completions with another 9 new Librarians!!! Congratulations to;

 

Aquilanus

Brother Chaplain Kage

Captain Sox

exetus

Grotsmasha

Malus Trux

Midnight Runner

One-eye

Thirdfox

 

you've all earned the right to display the completion banners.

 

So this brings us to our final week, I'll update on Monday with a Top 10, hopefully, until then convert away.

 

Cheers, and looking forward to another excellent week of conversions!!!!

Jono

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Aquilanus: I reacon he'll look sweet once he dons the RW paint scheme.

Have at the participation banner you guys.

you've all earned the right to display the completion banners.

Thanks! happy.png I'm looking forward to getting him painted, but he'll have to wait as he's part of my eventual third vow for ETL

Thanks for the banners - they are now on my profile page happy.png

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Right then - decided to reuse a concept i'd toyed with before - so iI went back through my bits box and like a jigsaw pieced him back together. 

 

So without further ado -

 

http://88.215.16.103:5555/pictures/liby/front2.jpghttp://88.215.16.103:5555/pictures/liby/front3.jpghttp://88.215.16.103:5555/pictures/liby/front.jpghttp://88.215.16.103:5555/pictures/liby/left.jpghttp://88.215.16.103:5555/pictures/liby/right.jpghttp://88.215.16.103:5555/pictures/liby/rear.jpg

 

Need to get me some greenstuff on the Inquisition symbols and maybe rethinnk how the back piece mounts

 

Combi-Plas can also counts as Lions Roar when its taken :)

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Hmm, not sure how to work the signature stuff with this newer site. I feel dumb asking this, but how do I add the pip to my sig?

Right click on the banner/pip and chose save/copy image URL. Then go to your Sig and add it via the image button.

 

Cheers,

Jono

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Ariolus of the Iron Hands Sorrgol clan at last emerged from the rent he had torn though the immaterium, writs of protection billowing from his form as he strolled forth.

Never had such a gathering of so many of his librarian brethren, from such a diversity of Adeptus Astartes chapters been recorded in the annals of the Imperium.

He entered forth in to battle along side his witchkin, crackling arcs of warp lighting issuing forth from his finger tips

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gallery_61107_6077_63149.jpg

gallery_61107_6077_65732.jpg

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Isleif, the Maelstrom Strider, Rune Priest of the Vlka Fenryka.

 

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v318/thirdfox/WH40K/DSC01567.jpg

Pardon the OT but I couldn't help but notice the hooded DA guy with the scythe in the background. Might I inquire as to where you bought the scythe? I'm currently building a DA force and that weapon would look wicked on my squad sergeants.

 

Back to the topic: this is an awesome thread. I'm not that much of a fan of the Libbies that GW has produced and this thread has inspired me to try converting my own custom Marine Psyker. Kudos to the guy who started this!

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There were four of us present that day. Four Sons of the Lion on a dead Imperial world. It was the day I took up arms for my Chapter once more, and witnessed the true nature of the monsters amongst us.

Like myself, Apollyon was a Sword Bearer of the Fifth: a battle brother born of Mire, raised for war and destined to fall in service to the Emperor and his First Legion. For both of us this was our first operation since being returned to active duty. We had each suffered grievous wounds during the Hothe Migrations: the Hrud's entropic field causing terrible damage even to our gene-enhanced, post-human forms. I had watched my left arm and leg wither and die before my eyes, reduced to little more than scraps of flesh and ceramite clinging to bleached, yellow bone. Apollyon too had barely survived, his whole body atrophying at a catastrophic rate as he'd aged hundreds of years within minutes. As always against the Hrud, it had been an intense, brutal campaign, and many of our brothers had not been as fortunate as we.

Despite our Astartes physiology, it had taken six months of re-constructive surgery and bionic augmentation before either of us were battle ready once more. I am certain that Apollyon was as frustrated as I to learn that our first posting was not a combat mission, but instead to form a personal bodyguard for one of the Lords of the Chapter. Although there was no doubting the honour and responsibility inherent in such a role, they were not the orders we craved after half a year of inactivity. Our enthusiasm waned even further when we learnt the nature of the operation: a fact finding visit to Carax Mor, a world already cleansed of the Great Devourer. Whilst our brothers took the fight to the remnants of Behemoth, we were relegated to mere observers on a devastated battlefield.

The third member of our party was a Revenant. As with so many of our black clad brethren, I do not know the identity of the warrior behind the skull helm, only that he was one of the Hellrazers: Second Company's incendiary and immolation specialists. Designed not just to exterminate life, but to eradicate all signs of it, the Hellrazers were armed exclusively with flame and melta weaponry. This warrior was no exception: a pair of bulky hand flamers were holstered at his sides, the chemical reek of their fuel tanks detectable despite the charnel stink of the ruined world we walked upon. As always with their kind, the Revenant did not speak or communicate in any way, a silent companion that impassively followed us through the barren landscape. For my part, I was simply glad that he was the only member of Second Company present. After my recent brush with death, I had no desire to experience the morbid chill of a Shadowcaster's psychic aura. And, as I had quietly joked to Apollyon during our journey, one psyker in our party was quite enough.

It was the Chief Librarian himself who led us that day. Skeletally thin and haggard even in power armour, his appearance seemed more akin to an emaciated wraith than a Space Marine: a ghoulish creature of the underworld instead of a proud warrior of the Astartes. Tattered robes covered curiously elongated Mark VIII plate like a funeral shroud, and as he strode purposefully through the Caraxian ruins, his skull headed staff tapped rhythmically against the cracked ferrocrete of the ichor stained roadways.

His name was Reynard Crom, but most of us knew him by another title: the Faceless. Although perhaps disrespectful, the nickname was certainly apt, for his visage changed constantly. Despite wearing neither helm or hood, Crom's features were as much a mystery as the Revenants who are, of course, never seen without their death masks. His countenance seemed to be in a state of perpetual flux, an endless succession of different identities that morphed from one forlorn face to another even as you watched. One moment he appeared young, gaunt and heavily scarred; the next he was ancient and wizened, his facial features gnarled and shrunken by extreme age. There was no way of knowing what he truly looked like. Only his cold, calculating eyes remained constant and unchanging. They were the eyes of a predator, not a warrior.

Many amongst the Sword Bearers considered him to be a shape-shifter, capable of moulding his own flesh into whatever form he wished. Others, myself included, believed that it was the perception of those around him that he altered, using his psychic gifts to force us to see only what he wanted us to see. That day on Carax, I believe this theory was confirmed, and the three of us, perhaps alone in all our Chapter, observed Reynard Crom's true identity.

The attack came without warning. We had been walking through a ruined street littered with Tyranid corpses, pausing occasionally while Crom examined anything he deemed particularly noteworthy. Despite the novelty of seeing the nature of this new threat in person, Apollyon and I were struggling to hide our boredom. We wished to be fighting such creatures, not studying their remains. The only other signs of life, if you can call them that, were a team of servitors picking their way along the street, collecting samples for the benefit of their Inquisitorial masters.

Suddenly the building behind the servitors exploded, bricks and debris flying in all directions as a monstrous Tyranid creature emerged from it's hiding place within. The beast had lain dormant inside the ruins, as though waiting specifically for our arrival to reveal itself. Larger than a Dreadnought, it's hulking form was covered by thick, chitinous armour, while four of it's six limbs were formed into massive, scythe like blades. Even though the Hive Fleet had only just begun to be documented, I recognised the brute from the tactical data compiled, at such great cost, by Guilliman's Sons. The Magus Biologis had categorised such beasts as Carnifex Voracio, heavy assault constructs that had been commonly encountered since Tyran onwards. Those that had fought and survived Behemoth though had given the creature another, more emphatic title: the Screamer-Killer.

It was screaming now as it charged: a terrible, high pitched shriek that assaulted the senses despite the audio dampeners built into our battle helms. The Carnifex reached the servitors within seconds, trampling two of them into the ferrocrete with it's sheer bulk, eviscerating the others with it's talons without even breaking it's stride. Then it had moved on without hesitation, heading straight towards us. Obviously we were the chosen targets, the servitors had merely been unfortunate enough to be standing in the brute's path.

Apollyon and I began firing instantly, bolts smashing into the armoured carapace with dull thuds. Even as chitin erupted into splinters, I realised it was futile. To bring down such a monstrosity would require far more powerful weapons than a simple boltgun. The beast continued it's charge and the screaming intensified, as though our shots had served only to enrage the Carnifex even further. As it bore down upon us I began reaching for a krak grenade, thinking that perhaps in death I could inflict enough damage to give the others a fighting chance.


The Screamer-Killer was just ten metres away when it suddenly stopped, as though it had run headlong into some invisible barrier. So close, I could see it's muscles straining against the unseen obstacle, it's fanged, snarling maw drooling strings of vile, corrosive spittle. Still the beast did not move. On instinct, I glanced sideways, and at last understood what was happening.

The Chief Librarian was standing motionless, his left hand outstretched towards the creature. But this was not the same Space Marine we had accompanied that morning. The gaunt, cadaverous wraith was no more, and in it's place stood a more typical Astartes warrior. Despite such a drastic change in his appearance, it was still undoubtedly Reynard Crom. A tunic partially covered what was now standard issue Errant plate, and the great tome still hung at his side, it's pages chained shut. Sigils and seals covered the psyker's armour, and the great horned skull was still affixed to his right shoulder guard as the symbol of his calling. He carried the same, skull headed force staff. I realised at that moment that it was not just his face that Crom hid from us. The wraith we were so familiar with was also a disguise, a psychic facade that he used to shroud his appearance. In stopping the thunderous charge of the Carnifex, the Librarian had been forced to drop his other defences, showing his true form for the first time.

Despite the massive Tyranid monstrosity before us, this sudden transformation was somehow far more shocking. Nor was I alone in my reaction: Apollyon and the Revenant were both staring unreservedly at the psyker. Even his facial features had ceased their constant flux, becoming a single, unchanging identity. I cannot be certain, but I believe the three of us saw Crom's own, unaltered visage that day. It was a stern, cruel face, frowning in concentration. Some kind of apparatus, presumably a psychic hood, was embedded directly into his skull, dull metal plates and cables protruding from the bare scalp.

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As we watched, the Librarian slowly raised his left arm. As if mirroring his action, the Carnifex smoothly rose several metres off the ground. There it hung, suspended in the air, still furiously screaming as all six of it's limbs thrashed in futile resistance. Fascinated, my Astartes training kicked in and I began evaluating the creature, noting the lethal efficiency of it's biological weapons, visually searching for weak points in it's chitinous armour. This, after all, was one of the most dangerous Tyranid constructs so far encountered. Beasts such as this were at the forefront of the Hive Fleet's attack. An attack that had devastated mighty Ultramar and left the whole Imperium reeling in shock at this new menace that assailed us from the stars. To see a live Carnifex so close, and to have time to appraise it's combat abilities was a luxury few, if any, could claim.

Suddenly the beast convulsed, spasms running through it's massive frame. With a sickening crack, a great rent appeared in it's armoured torso, the dense chitin tearing as though invisible hands were slowly, inexorably pulling it apart. The screaming became a terrible, keening wail as the Carnifex visibly shuddered in it's agony. Before our eyes, the creature's exoskeleton was violently ripped open in a spray of gore and viscera: it's ribcage, if such terms can even be applied to so alien a physiology, splayed wide to reveal it's internal organs. Still the beast howled, somehow still alive despite the terrible damage being inflicted upon it.

I glanced sideways once more. Frost was beginning to crystallise on Crom's cranial implants, even though sweat beaded his brow from the obvious mental exertion. A grimace of intense concentration gripped the face so recently revealed to us, but beneath it I could detect another, more sinister expression: a cruel smile of dark amusement. Evidently, the Chief Librarian was enjoying himself.

Turning back, I saw that a similar tear had appeared down the centre of the Tyranid's skull. Still the beast shrieked in it's misery. Seconds later a grotesque popping sound accompanied the sight of the creature's head splitting completely in two, both halves peeling back to reveal glistening, slime covered brain matter. The wailing instantly subsided, replaced by a low, pathetic whimpering. Even now the Carnifex was alive and seemingly conscious, experiencing the full, unimaginable horror of it's own body being slowly, methodically dissected.

I had no sympathy for the beast, of course. Such monstrosities deserved nothing but our contempt, for even the torment this Tyranid was suffering was insignificant compared to the nightmare it's race represented. All the same, Crom's handiwork was chilling to behold. Not just because of the immense degree of psychic power being exhibited, but also because of the grim satisfaction evident on the Chief Librarian's features. At that moment, I finally understood that some monsters are born with a human face, and I realised how grateful I was that Reynard Crom was not my enemy.

My thoughts were interrupted as my boltgun was torn from my grasp. Beside me, Apollyon swore as his own firearm was also pulled brusquely from his hands. Each bolter flew though the air towards the Carnifex, stopping directly in front of the stricken creature. For a moment both weapons simply hovered there, held by an unseen force, one aiming inside the beast's ruined torso, the other at the bisected skull. Then as if heralding the end of a surreal dream, each boltgun barked once, the shots obliterating the alien organs in a shower of sickly blue ichor. At last the whining stopped.


My apologies brothers” Crom's placid voice broke the eerie silence as the bolters glided smoothly back into our hands. “Sometimes my enthusiasm overrides my manners.”

The mutilated corpse of the Carnifex fell to the ground with a wet thud. Motioning to the Revenant, the Chief Librarian continued, still smiling jovially as he spoke. “Burn the remains. Leave nothing behind.”

Forgive me my Lord” Somehow I managed to find my voice. “But hasn't Inquisitor Kryptman ordered all specimens of the larger Tyranid strains preserved for future study?”


Crom's face twisted in a sudden fury, the good humoured smile becoming a look of pure malevolence. “The Inquisition,” he snarled, “may do whatever it wishes.” For a second I wondered if I had made a critical mistake. After all, the Chief Librarian's contempt for Inquisitors was well known throughout the Chapter. Not for the first time, I wondered about the origin of the skull that crowned the top of the psyker's force staff. The skull engraved with the symbol of a crossed letter 'I'. Surely not even Crom would dare take such a trophy and then bear it so brazenly?

As quickly as it had appeared, the Librarian's anger subsided, his voice regaining it's customary composure. “I, however, have seen all I need to see. Burn the remains.” he repeated. As the Revenant raised his flamers and stepped forwards, Crom had already turned away. The wraith had returned once more, the psychic camouflage morphing the Faceless into his familiar, cadaverous form.“Come brothers, let us see what else we can find.”

That day, as I watched him stroll down the street of decomposing corpses, I decided that Reynard Crom's true face was far more disturbing than any of the alien monstrosities that surrounded us.

***

Obviously got a bit carried away writing the background for this guy! smile.png My thanks to anyone who makes it through such a wall of text. Here's my fourth (and final) entry:

Reynard Crom, 'the Faceless', Chief Librarian of the Sword Bearers Chapter

(Naturally depicted without his psyhic camouflage. At some point I'd also like to convert Crom in his 'wraith-form'. Unfortunately I think it's a bit beyond my modelling/converting skills at the moment. smile.png )

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Ariolus of the Iron Hands Sorrgol clan at last emerged from the rent he had torn though the immaterium, writs of protection billowing from his form as he strolled forth.

Never had such a gathering of so many of his librarian brethren, from such a diversity of Adeptus Astartes chapters been recorded in the annals of the Imperium.

He entered forth in to battle along side his witchkin, crackling arcs of warp lighting issuing forth from his finger tips

gallery_61107_6077_24078.jpg.

gallery_61107_6077_77865.jpg

gallery_61107_6077_63149.jpg

gallery_61107_6077_65732.jpg

This is amazing! Probably my pick of the bunch :)

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@ jokearo weaponsmith: imo, the best part of this model is the side view showing his head straining forward,  it shoes his eagerness to get to grips and destroy his enemy, epic. And as already stated, that is one of the best shoulder pad psychic hoods I've seen.

@Spaced Hulk: Out of your four entries, this my favourite by quite a margin,and he comes with another excellent fluff piece to boot. 

 

Two thumbs up to both of you.  :tu: :tu:

 

Cheers,

Jono

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Thanks for the kind comments , Brother Chaplin Kage, KBA and Grotsmasha.

This and the previous Chaplin thread are so inspiring every time I looked there was another great idea or fantastic model on show, one can't help to try and lift their game. The Chaplin challenge almost made me finish my year old wip iron father ( alas still can't work out how to fit servo arm to terminator armour, any suggestion please pm me).

Look forward to seeing more of these challenges and the resulting entry's.

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A power baseball bat! woot.gif

Love it, even if that was not the impression you wanted to give - maybe stick a nail through it? laugh.png

yeah i like the power baseball bat look myself ;) but if he is painted up its a force mace ;)

Really digging the over-the-top skull bonfire on that chaplain's backpack smile.png

thx :) burning skulls of the lost ;)

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