Grotsmasha's Conversion Challenge8: Cosmic Space Knights(oD)

[Grotsmasha]

Grotsmasha's Conversion Challenge 8:

Cosmic Space Knights...(of Doom)

Welcome one and all to my 8th Kit-bash Challenge!!!!! For those who don't know what this is all about, I have a summary thread for the first 4 Challenges HERE, within there is a break down of each Challenge and links to the Completion threads and Top 10 Completions from each Challenge.

Here's the links to the individual Challenges in case you'd prefer those,

Chaplains Completions

Librarians Completions

Captains Completions

Duels and Dioramas Completions

Adepts of Mars Completions

Relics of War Completions

Treadheads and Flyboys Completions

So, just what the hell is/are the Cosmic Space Knights...(of Doom)???

The CSK(oD) are a comedic Chapter created by none other, than Doghouse himself. I will provide a plethora of information down in the second post on the CSK...(oD), for now, this introduction will do...

The Curse of the Absurd

Although his career was otherwise unremarkable Senior Adept Henar Machovik had been honoured by his assignment to the creation of a new chapter designated The Carnage Knights.
Although he was a humble man in most respects deep within his soul he harboured a longing, a dark seed of ambition and pride that whispered to him that he should be recognised for his life time of dedication and hard work.

His assignment was to prove more difficult than expected. The Gene-seed had developed unexpected flaws that had lead to radical destabilisation within the zygote structure. No-matter how he tryed he could not rememedy the problem and soon he began to overhear whispered conversations whenever he entered a room, conversations that threatened to become allegations of incompetence that would tarnish his career. He was becoming desperate.

On his homeworld of Felnir Prime there was an ancient legend of a god of whom it was said to know his true name was to know madness.
To the people of Felnir he was known as Loki'lk the Trickster God and the fables told of how he would offer all a man could desire but at a great personal cost to the summoner. The stories never ended well but Malchovik knew he was running out of time so he envoked the god in an ancient and forbidden ritual in a moment of desperation.
Loki'k appeared to Malchovik and agreed that he would help the Adept to reverse the degredation in the gene-seed. As his wish was granted Machovik paniced and destroyed the circle of summoning that bound the trickster god to the material universe. Their bargin broken Loki'lk damned the adept and the gene-seed of the Carnage Knights as he was drawn back into the warp with the Curse of the Absurd.
Loki'lk was a minor god of the warp. His power depended on the laughter of man, the absurd and the ironic to fuel his very existance.
During the dark times of the Age of Strife his power grew weak. The terrible acts and suffering that occured since this time like the Horus Heresy, the numerous Black Crusades for example, had sapped his strength and he now faced oblivion.
Machovik had unwittedly saved him, his brief venture into the material universe had allowed him to tamper with the laws of reality.
The Curse of the Absurd would warp the very nature of the material universe around those that bore it. The real would become the surreal, the absurd would become the norm, life around those that bore the curse would become a parody and with each act of insanity Loki'lk would slowly grow more powerful.
Unknown to the Chapter the Carnage Knights would become his crusading army of the absurd and ridiculus known as The Cosmic Space Knights (of doom).

Machovik realised his folly but before he could warn the others he slipped on a banana skin and was flattened by a grand piano.

This will be a two part Challenge. Part one is to create a your own Cosmic Space Knight...(of Doom). For part two, you will need to create a small fluff piece, to add character to your CSK(oD) Space Marine, Chapter Serf, Engineer..or, errr.....affiliate?

The Rules will be as follows,

If you're in it for the Participation, have fun and ignore the rules below, you are still free to display the Banners/Pips, if however, you'd like a shot at being named Challenge Favourite, you will need to read on.

1- The finished model is not to be painted, the conversion should be bare plastic/resin/metal, the small odd painted piece stolen from a previously painted model is OK.

2- Can be a Space Marine, Chapter Serf, Engineer

3- No Part restrictions this time, go nuts

4- Green Stuff/Sculpting putty is fine, small details to a full sculpt is acceptable.

5- 1 calendar month build time, April 1st 2015 til May 2nd 2015, this guarantees everyone gets two full months.

6- Multiple entries per user, separate photos per entry.

7- You must declare participation a minimum of 24hrs prior to declaring completion, having said that, I don't mind if you've had a little head start.

8- If you wish to participate in any previous challenge, declare your intention here and post your completed models in the CSK(oD) Completions thread. This will entitle you to use the banners/pips from that challenge, which will also be in the Completion thread.

The time frame from the current challenge still applies.

9- Most importantly, HAVE FUN !!!!!

HOW TO ENTER:

Right, so now you know the rules, how do you enter?

First off, declare your participation here in this thread, with the following declaration,

I, {insert your name} undertake Grotsmasha's CSK(oD) Kit-Bash Challenge to kit-bash at least one {insert unit type from those listed above} by May 2nd, 2015.

which will earn you a participation banner/pip to wear in your signature.

If you'd like to retrospectively participate in any of the previous Challenges, here are their Participation Pips,

Secondly, I will create a completion thread and link it in this thread, that will be where completed models should be posted in the following format of five pictures, as modeled by my rendition of Brother Scrounger

FRONT

LEFT

REAR

RIGHT

3 VIEW, a raised or lowed picture capturing two sides of the model

Completing your kitbash before May 2nd will earn you a Completion banner/pip to wear in your signature.

Post your completed CSK(Od) here, Grotsmasha's Conversion Challenge 8: Cosmic Space Knights...(of Doom) Completion Thread

In addition to the banners/pips offered for participation/completion, there will be a prize!!!!!!

What prize?? I hear you ask. It will be my entry into this challenge. However, differing from previous challenges, I will be selling my entry on eBay with the proceeds being donated to the B&C. I will, however still be choosing a favourite and awarding them a unique Banner and Pip. In addition to myself, Doghouse will also be choosing a favourite from amongst the completions, the winner of which will recieve their own unique banner and pip.

Ok, just one last rule, HAVE FUN!!!!!, this little challenge is all about creating a cool new model for your army

If anyone has questions or needs clarification on something, just post here or shoot me a P.M.

Cheers,

Jono

[Grotsmasha]

I'm warning you now, go to the toilet, set the kids up, get a drink, there's some serious reading ahead.....

 

 

 

 

Index Astartes: Cosmic Space Knights...(of Doom) 

 

http://i152.photobucket.com/albums/s196/Mutt2050/COSMICSPACEKNIGHTS.jpg

 

+++Chapter Cross-Reference - Cosmic Space Knights (of doom)+++

+++Inquisitorial Clearance - Oh...I don't know...let's say...erm...blue?+++

+++Current Chapter Base: Fortress monestry known as "The Frat House"+++

+++This Transmission is available from all good record stores+++

 

Origins

The exact founding of the Cosmic Space Knights (of doom) is...well to be honest your guess is as good as mine.

There is great debate between the Masters of the chapter as to who their Progenitor Chapter is as well, initially

they were thought to be successors of the Ultramarines but then someone pointed out that Space Wolves were a

bit more flexible when it came to Codex organisation when it came to prayers and schedules and stuff. After a few

too many serious drinking session that resulted in the destruction of the Chapter Master's personal Thunderhawk

they decided to rethink things and agreed that they were infact Blood Angels successors.

The whole unquenchable rage thing and drinking blood wasn't really working out for them so they became Black

Templars but after a few Crusades went rather badly for them they switched back to Ultramarines before finally

settling on Dark Angels because they are all dark, brooding and mysterious which is pretty cool.


 

The Artificer Crisis

During the thirty eighth...or was it the thirty nineth...no wait...I'm pretty sure it was the thirty eighth millenium the

Chapter faced it's greatest challenge to date. Due to the constant switching of Progenitor Chapters the Artificers

were getting a bit fed up of having to repaint the Chapter's suits of power armour all the time. Together with the

Serfs they formed the Union of Servitors and Chapter Serfs and promptly when on strike.

After lengthy negotiations with Supreme Grand Chapter Master Slab Benchpress it was agreed that they would

only paint the shoulder pads of the armour in chapter colours, in return the Chapter Master agreed not to abandon

them all on the nearest Tyranid infested world.

 

Homeworld

The Chapter is fleet based after their homeworld was tragically destroyed. Exact details are unknown but it is

thought to have had something to do with a couple of bored Scouts playing "shoot the can off the Servitor's head"

close to the Fortress Monestry's armoury at the time.
 

The Clones

The vast majority of chapters maintain a strict process for recruitment to ensure the purity of their future battle brothers.

Initiates are selected at an early age, screened, augmented, screened again, subjected to hypno-conditioning and then

must under go battle field training as Scouts before being able to take their place amongst their brothers as a full Astartes.

The CSK(od) are unfortunately not one of the vast majority.

Since the introduction of the advanced and forbidden cloning device the CSK(od) are rarely under strength, often being able

to deploy on the battle field as an entire chapter.

Clones are created using the geneseed of the chapter's greatest living hero Maximus Vaan Damage, Captain of the first

company and all round great guy.
 

Clone Academy

The process for cloning new brothers is relatively quick, an entire Tactical squad can be created in a mere matter of hours,

an entire company can be completed in a day.

Clones are sent to Clone Academy and after an intense two week induction course are assigned a role within the chapter.

Although theoretically speaking a Clone could live for several centuries most rarely make it past the four week mark due to

accidents and battlefield errors.

Anyone that makes it past five weeks is often considered a veteran.

 

The Techmarines 

Way back in the days of when the CSK(od) thought that they were Space Wolves successors the Techmarines of got seriously into the spirit

of things, they loved making oversized axes, being allowed to keep wolves as pets and being concidered all mysterious and magicky by the

rest of the chapter, Chapter Serfs were treated as equals, it was a great time to be a Techmarine. But most of all they loved the beer!
 

Some might say that they loved it a little too much and as time passed they gradually spent more time drinking and playing drunken games

like pin the servo-arm on the servitor than actually fixing stuff.

Ancient cerimonies and millenia of rituals were replaced with excuses like "if it starts playing up just give it a kick" or "it's supposed to look

like that." The Techmarines began to realise that they had no idea how most of the Chapter's equipment actually worked and they were in

serious trouble. Their problems grew with the destruction of the chapter homeworld and soon it looked as if all would be lost.
 

It could have been fate but quite by chance a Techmarine explorator team stumbled across a group of surviving squats whilst searching a

local Tavern for lost and ancient technology in an attempt to save the chapter.

It became evident that the Squat race had been destroyed in some great disaster and in return for having somewhere to crash between

violent drinking sessions they agreed to come work for the Techmarines as long as they didn't breing up the rather embaressing subject of

Squat Biker Guilds, a matter that they were a bit sensitive about.
 

The Chapter soon had their vehicles up and running but their attempts to re-train the Techmarines in the lost arts of technology was proving

less than successful. It was the brainchild of Thor Thorgrinson, a rather brilliant but foul tempered Squat Engineer that was to prove the

saviour of the Chapter. Not only did he manage to cobble together the ancient and forbidden cloning machine but he also invented the

Techmarine's Buddy Harness or TBH (he was good with machines but not so hot at naming them...).

The TBH is a servo harness that has a built in Machine Spirit that does most of the hard work for the techmarines and aids them in their

work. The Techmarine just pretends to know what he's doing reciting passages from the Techmarine's Bumper Book of Techno-Babble and

the harness does all the work.

 

Chapter Colours

The armour of the Chapter has been unpainted since the Great Artificer Crisis with the exception of the

shoulderpad insert and chest aquila which are painted red.
 

http://i18.photobucket.com/albums/b141/Doghouse12/cskod.jpg

 

Organisation

The exact organisation of the Chapter depends on which Chapter that they have decided they are currently

Successors of.

 

Battlecry

"Everyone, remember where we parked!"

 

Chapter Traits
 

Unknown Progenitors

The Chapter uses whatever is the latest Codex to be released and alters it's organistion to suit.
 

Shoddy Workmanship

Since losing their dental plan the servitors and chapter serfs have become slackers. Where once they took pride in

their positon within the chapter they've come to realse that the Battle Brothers are overbearing, arrogant jerks and

little attention is paid to the finer points of weapon and armour construction.

Any model may include moldlines on their armour or weapons at no additional cost.
 

And They Shall Have No Clue

The CSK(od) are notoriously bad at organisation of any kind. Many battles have been won simply because they

have overrun enemy positions thinking they were retreating to their own lines (Cross Reference: See Battlecry).

Many times their have halted their route to bicker amongst themselves as to who had the Thunderhawk keys last

and who's stupid idea was it to come here in the first plase?

The CSK(od) benefit from the And They Shall Know No Fear special rules.

 

 

 

Supreme Grand Chapter Master Slab Benchpress.
http://i18.photobucket.com/albums/b141/Doghouse12/Picture079.jpg

http://i18.photobucket.com/albums/b141/Doghouse12/Picture078-1.jpg

http://i18.photobucket.com/albums/b141/Doghouse12/Picture081-1.jpg


Slab Benchpress is the current Supreme Grand Chapter Master and has been in charge of the chapter for the last two weeks after the previous Master "popped out to the store for some milk and smokes" and never returned.
The idea behind the model is that he's got far too much wargear and as he's swung the hammer he's trying not to topple over backwards.

 

 

 

 

Bruvva Grimtoof (Proxy Marine)
http://i18.photobucket.com/albums/b141/Doghouse12/Picture118.jpg

Something about Bruvva Grimtoof isn't quite...well...right. Like so much of the Chapter's history little is known of his origins but he turned up claimiing to be a lost member of the Chapter. Coincidently it was just about the same time as the CSK(od) departed from Armageddon.
He had his own set of power armour (which was suspiciously like Brother Redshirt's armour before he went behind a large rock on his own to check for energy readings and was never seen again) so they figured his story checked out.

Bruvva Grimtoof is a proxy marine. These are the models that players use to "represent" a marine when they don't have enough models. Rather than just use an Ork model I decided to give him a crude form of power armour so that he can pass himself off as a marine. I've given him a bolt gun metal basecoat and a quick wash of a brown ink/blazing orange mix.
I'm going to have to go back and tidy him up first before tackling the highlights and stuff.

 

 

 

Maximus Vaan Damage
http://i18.photobucket.com/albums/b141/Doghouse12/Picture108.jpg

http://i18.photobucket.com/albums/b141/Doghouse12/Picture109.jpg

Maximus rose quickly through the ranks of the CSK(od) distinguishing himself in battle on countless occations. His exploits are a thing of legend and he could always be found in the fiercest fighting often dragging a wounded comrade to safety or remaining behind to hold off hordes of fearsome xenos single handly.
As the Chapter's greatest hero he was selected to become the genetic template for the newly created Clone army. It was after this time that something about him seemed somewhat...well...different.
In the past he had lead his troops personally into battle, his strategies were bold and daring, his intellect being able to match any of the the great heros of the Astartes. But now he has adopted a much more cautious approach to warfare, deploying wave after wave of troops, often sacrificing hundreds of his men before even setting foot on a battlefield.
It is widely believed amongst the Serfs and Servitors that Maximus was in fact killed by one of his clones who then took his place, but any who voice such opinions have found themselves assigned to the Rules Lawyers and suffered mysterious deaths not long afterwards.

Since his appointment to Captain of the first company Maximus has lead the Astartes of the CSK(od) to victory on nearly one occasion. The first company of the CSK(od) is unique amongst the Chapters of the Imperium being that it is made up of his personal guard of three hundred Astartes, a core of loyal battle brothers that he would heroically and selflessly sacrifice in order to get pretty darn close to completing an objective.
During the most recent conflict Vaan Damage fearlessly lead his personal Clone guard to the planet surface of Vengist IV to battle the terrible Petra-Squirrels. After several minutes he was urgently recalled to the battle barge to be fitted with his new golden artificier armour to mark the begining of the campaign. However his personal guard fought on valiantly in the name of the Imperium whilst suffering horrenedous casualites at the hands of the tiny terrors.
Although adored by his men the Chapter Serfs and Servitors think he's a bit of a jerk.
 

Maximus Vaan Damage's Personal Assistants

This is an idea that I had when making the Rules Lawyer. So that I can include more Serfs, which are key to the background material of the CSK(od) I'm including some personal assistants. The idea is that these guys will be used as wound markers for Maximus and as he loses a wound I'll simply remove one of his aids.
Being assigned to Maximus as an assistant is to assigned a life of misery and suffering that few could dare to imagine. His endless demands and narcissistic ways are enough to make even the strongest willed individuals want to throw themselves in front of a rabid Carnifex.
As a result the asssistants will willingly throw themselves into the path of any incoming shots just to end the suffering. Maximus however sees this differently believing that the Serfs love him so much that they would gladly sacrifice their own lives to save him.
The Curse of the Absurd however cruelly makes sure that they survive the attacks no-matter what hits them. The other Serfs are so afraid that they will end up as a replacement Assistant that they will ensure the wounded assistants are patched up with bionics in time for them to wake up just in time for his next toe nail trimming session.

 

 

The Science of the Curse

The Curse itself is localised to individual members of the chapter and it's successors. However, as the concentration of Astartes in one area grows the the effects of the Curse take hold and begin to warp reality around it.
So for example during his quest to Mars to cover up the loss of the STC templates Supreme Chapter Master Slab Bulkhead would to all intents and purposes appear and behave like any other Astartes chapter master.
His chapter icon would revert to it's original form and for all intents and purposes he would be a member of the Carnage Knights chapter.
However, once he returned to the chapter he would become his wacky alterego as leader of the CSK(od).

This however has it's downside for the Cloned members of the chapter. Should an individual clone of the chapter find himmself isolated from the rest of the chapter then he would probably die.
The cloning technology is a product of the curse and without it's influence then his body would reveal itself as the malformed mess that it really is.
His hands would probably become blackened stumps from numerous "comical" weapons misfires, his rapid growth internal organs would fail and he would simply expire as his body failed.

The curse also has the power to warp other races and their perception of the universe. In the extreme case of the Pan'Zee this effect is irreversible but in other races with brief exposure they would adopt the wacky characterisstics of the curse but when they leave they woud revert to normal as if nothing strange had happened.

So say a Blood Angel comes into contact with a company of CSK (od) he would become a vampire sterotype, talking with a transalvaanian accent and hissing at the sun. However when he returned to his chapter he would revert to being a Blood Angel again, his memories being that he fought alongside the Carnage Knights.

 

 

The Carnival of the Absurd

For what seemed an eternity the lifeless body of Captain Vaan Damage drifted through the frozen void of space. His features permanently frozen in an expression of shock as in his last moments of life the realisation of the betrayal of one of his sons became evident to him.

Days earlier he had been called to the Supreme Grand Chapter Master's quarters to discuss plans to deceive the Adeptus Mechanicus into thinking that the Chapter's STC templates were intact. 
As he entered the door sealed shut behind him, even with his superhuman senses he was slow to react to the danger.
One of the clones had changed the numbering on the corridor plates to trick him into thinking that he was on a different deck. He looked around slightly bemused as it dawned on him he was in fact stood in an airlock.
As he turned to face the inner door a face appeared at the port hole, but not just any face his face.
Even for a clone the likeness was uncanny, it was like staring at his own reflection. Before he could utter a single word of protest a malicious grin spread across the clone's face as he gave a little wave to Maximus.
The deafening roar of the external doors opening was the last thing Maximus heard as he was jettersoned into space. For scant seconds he clawed imputently at open space, the last thing he was aware of was the now distant Battle Barge shimmering before disappearing into the immaterium.
Then there was only darkness.

"AwaKeN mY sOn..." The voice rang out, the horrific sound of hysterical laughter echoing in it's wake "...My cHampIon..."

"Who..Who are you?" Maximus struggled to form the words through dry and frozen lips, his voice painful and rasping.

"I aM youR gOD anD MaSTer...I aM the LudriCrus and ThE INsane...I aM YOUr SAviOUr anD YOUr DAMnaTIon..."

Maximus's head swam drunkenly as he struggled to comprehend what was happening to him.

"Am I dead?" He whispered hoarsely.

The deafening roar of laughter sent him cartwheeling backwards through space.

"No MY soN...FOr yOU thE JoURNey is jUSt BeGINNINg..." And with that the voice was gone. 

Maximus hung limply, his body sapped of it's superhuman strength he clung to what little life had been returned to him.
In the distance a pin prick of light flared and was gone. As he drifted in and out of awareness he glimpsed what looked like a vessel approaching, a dark silloutte that engulfed the stars as it passed over his shattered body.

Searchlights beamed out as they drove away the darkness that engulfed him, settling over his form as he finally succumb to unconciousness. 

 

 

 

The Legend of Spandex the Grey

A long time ago, well actually it was a few weeks which is a long time to the clones who have a life expectancy of three weeks in battle if they are lucky, a clone was created that was slightly different to the others.
Whilst the others were quite happy to receive their orders and assignments without question, Brother Widget had an annoying habit of questioning everything and generally getting on people's nerves.
Having being assigned to a tactical squad despite his protests he secretly longed to be a Techmarine and as a result generally didn't quite fit in with the other members of his squad. 
It was his curiosity that was ultimately to lead to his downfall.

Widget had argued that the cloning procedure could be increased by point four percent efficiency with some modifications he had devised.
The Techmarines were either far too busy or hung over to pay him much attention so late one night he took it upon himself to sneak into the cloning chamber and perform the modifications himself.
Unfortunately whilst Brother Widget had all the best intentions in world for the Chapter he had absolutely no idea what-so-ever about technology.
Swapping out "inferior" parts and cross wiring circuits all the while tutting to himself over the state of the shoddy workmanship of the Techmarines Widget accidentally created a rift in space and time and in the blink of an eye disappeared in a blinding flash of light irreversibly damaging the cloning machine in the process.

The Untimely Demise of Spandex the Grey

The world of Demotix had been the peaceful home of a Ratling colony for generations. For longer than anyone could remember the people of the planet had lived a happy and simple existence, ploughing the fields and harvesting the crops thankful for their lot in life, blessed by mild winters and fair summers.
It was on one such glorious summer’s afternoon that Spandex the Grey, the great powerful wizard, had decided to rest in the shade of a Jugner tree whilst on his quest to return the Rod of Fate to its resting place in the Hurgan village far atop the Greenfield Mountains. 
A wayward group of Ratling younglings had stolen the Rod as a prank. Although no damage had been done the wise old man had lectured the mischievous youths, scorning them for their actions but had secretly been smiling to himself inside at the thought of the adventurous follies of youth.
He began to doze off as he sat contently pondering to himself the glorious life that had been given to him.
It was a life, however, that was about to come to an abrupt and rather violent end. 
High above the valley there was blinding flash of light and in the blink of an eye a figure appeared. Had Spandex been awake then he may have peered curiously up into the afternoon sky, shielding his eyes against the warm caress of the sun as he tried to make out what the rapidly approaching shape was.
As it was though he was sound asleep when the eight foot tall Astarte crashed down through the trees, flattening him and killing him outright as he broke the giant's fall.

Brother Widget took a while to come around to his surroundings; he had never been planet side before having spent his entire two weeks of life on the Chapter's Fortress Monastery. 
He was amazed by the clear blue skies, the lush green fauna and the squished red puddle of blood and long matted hair that he was now sitting in.
His tunic now soiled with dead ratling organic matter he struggled to his feet, a few yards from the crater in which he sat lay a rather nice wide brimmed pointed hat and seeing as the owner was no-where to be seen he placed it on his head to shield the bright sun from his eyes.
And so the legend of Spandex the Grey had truly begun.

So great was their love and trust in the old wizard none of the villagers thought to question why he had suddenly grown to eight feet tall or what the red stain was covering his back.
To the peaceful people of Hurgen their beloved wizard had come home and they were simply grateful for his safe return. 
It was here that things started to go terribly wrong.

Adopting the persona of Spandex the Grey, Brother Widget began to see just how inefficient the Ratling society truly was and began to offer his sagely advice on how things could be improved.
The people of Hurgan began to practice the arts of technology and soon had advanced hundreds of years into a post industrial society in the matter of months.
However the people of the other villages were reluctant to change their ways and driven a bit mad by his new found power Spandex declared them enemies of the Hurgan people. The first war ever to grace the peaceful world of Demotix erupted with a wave of bloodshed.

 

 

 

Tactical Marine

http://i152.photobucket.com/albums/s196/Mutt2050/DSC02159_00-1.jpg

 

 

 

The Rules Lawyer

http://i18.photobucket.com/albums/b141/Doghouse12/Picture091-1.jpg

http://i18.photobucket.com/albums/b141/Doghouse12/Picture094.jpg

Due to the other zealous and rather destructive nature of the Astartes members of the Chapter it was decided by the Union of Chapter Serfs and Servitors (UCSS) that it was in the best interests of the Chapter as a whole if they were regulated somewhat. 
Numerous incidents involving massive destruction of private property and the untimely deaths of UCSS members were slowly bankrupting the chapter as compensation claims soared.
The Rules Lawyer is a Health and Safety Representative of the UCSS and is attached to either command squads or individual squads. By consulting the the holy tomb known as the Big Black Book it is their role to point out to the Astartes dangerous areas that may result in personal injury.
Rules Lawyers are required to wear bright yellow armour so that they may be seen at all times after several members were mysteriously run over by Land Raiders, knocked off cliffs or accidently shot in the back of the head at point blank range whilst sleeping then jettisoned out an airlock.
Needless to say Rules Lawyers aren't very popular with the Clones don't live very long...

Special Rules

Risk Assessment
The Rules Lawyer performs risk assessments of all surrounding terrain before the battle indicating areas that may result in a member of the chapter poking his eye out or otherwise injuring himself. 
On the plus side they have been known to accidently flush out a squad of enemy infiltrators whilst laying down high visability hazard tape around dangerous ruins or holes.
Rules Lawyers count as an Auspex.

Safety Lecture
In the melee of hand to hand combat it is easy to forget just how dangerous close combat weapons really are. 
Sharp edges can needlessly cause injury and unsterilised weapons can cause nasty blood infections.
During hand to hand combat the Rules Lawyer will lecture the enemy on the merits of health and safety pointing out that they really shouldn't be running with those power weapons and that six foot long talon could easily have someone's eye out if they are not careful.
Rules Lawyers count as a Combat Shield.

Wargear
Rules Lawyers can be taken by anyone who has access to the armoury. They cannot be targeted as they are wargear and are removed when the character dies. A Rules Lawyer costs 12/7pts.

 

 

 

The S.A.P.S

http://i18.photobucket.com/albums/b141/Doghouse12/Picture089-1.jpg

Most clones are assigned to the regular Tactical, Assault or Devastator squads. Those that demonstrate a degree of mechanical aptitude and can break into a Rhino using only a coat-hanger are assigned to the Techmarines, those that look good in black, like scarey skull masks and shouting alot are assigned to the Chaplains, those that look a bit wizardy, can do the freaky starey eye thing and can guess how many fingers the selector is holding up behind his back are sent to the Librarium.
The Scouts however are a different story altogether. Selected just after being created they receive advanced training and are taught the skills of field craft and survival.
Absolute masters of camoflage they are the chapter's silent death, an elite fighting force that occationally can actually complete a mission (or at least get really, really close to completing it without blowing themselves up).
They are the proud and the few, they are the best of the best, they are the Stealth Assault Patrols.

Special Rules

S.A.P.s
SAPs use the Scout stats and rules.

Masters of Disguise
The SAPs are trained to blend into any enviroment..that contains some form of small shrubs, trees or bushes.
Thanks to the Curse of the Absurd very few enemies will question what a small Privet hedge is doing on the bridge of their battle cruiser, figuring that is obviously supposed to be there and is clearly someone else's problem.
SAPs may Infiltrate if the mission allows it.

 

 

 

The Greatest Disaster Since the Last Greatest Disaster!

Seeing as all the STC templates for their vehicles had been destroyed along with ninety percent of the Chapter itself they knew that should the Adeptus Mechanicus find out then they was bound to get in trouble. 
It was decided that they would have to start from scratch creating vehicles of their own design that might pass for the originals from a distance...if you sort of squinted at them...through thick fog...well, maybe if you closed one eye completely and it was extremely dark or you were blind drunk.
So while the Chapter Master set about stalling the Magos of the Adeptus Mechanicus the rest of the Chapter set about creating new vehicles assisted by the Servitors and Chapter Serfs Union (who mysteriously never lost anyone in the destruction of their homeworld).



The "Fire Magnet" Pattern Predator

This is the first of the vehicles for the chapter. I'm starting off with the "Foe-Fether" pattern twin linked las-cannon for the turret and am scratchbuilding everything except the wheels and the tracks which I'm scrounging from my bits box. The Fire Magnet pattern Predator is more unconventional looking than most being the brain child of Techmarine Biff Bulkhead. 
Since they' lost their STCs they been forced to improvise. With all their Techmarines dead they've had to promote a few marines to the rank of Techmarine in order to continue making weapons and stuff. Unfortunately they're not very imaginative and despite what the others say the Techmarines have been hard at work and did not spend all their time sat around drinking beer before slapping something together at the last minute that was inspired by an empty beer can.
Besides, big guns are cool!

 

 

 

The Holy High Order of the Secret Hidden Truth that is Hidden

The Holy High Order of the Secret Hidden Truth that is Hidden.

Brother Target-Practice had no prior knowledge of the existance of this area of the fortress monastery or the fate that lay before him deep within its bowels. Silently and cautiously he followed the robed power armoured figure through the dark winding passages. Ancient and terrible gargoyles engraved by an unknown hand leering at him from the bulkheads through dark shadows cast by the suppressed lighting conditions.
Few had ever passed this way since the creation of the order, only a select few even knowing its existence and even fewer knew of the exact location of their hidden chapter house. A legend within the ranks of the clones told only in awed whispers, no-one knew of the order’s origins or true purpose.
The figure in front stumbled forwards slightly before slowly and grimly turning to the visor of his Mk II crusader helm to face him. The eyes glowed menacingly in the dark.
Target-Practice looked down to see that stepped on the back of his guide’s robe.

“Sorry…” He smiled nervously as he lifted his foot off the floor releasing the snagged cloth from underneath his power armoured boot.
Slowly the figure turned and continued along the path ahead muttering to himself.

The Ante-chamber was a lot smaller than he’d been expecting if he’d been entirely honest with himself. It wasn’t as grandiose and awe inspiring as he had imagined it would be. In fact if he had one word that could best describe it at that point it would have been ‘cosy’.

Around the walls, assembled in a great semi-circle facing inwards shrouded by their hooded robes were the esteemed members of the Order. Stood before them at the front of the assembly behind a lectern towered the ominous form of the Master of Ceremonies.

“The supplicant shall receive the holy garments of our blessed order so that he might smite the foul terrors of darkness and strike fear into the hearts of the impure!” The Master of Ceremonies voice boomed out dramatically across the ante-chamber without warning or introduction.
Brother Target-Practice accepted the robes given to him by his mysterious guide.

“And now the supplicant shall read from the label adorning his garments of office his new name granted to him by the holy powers on high!” The Master proclaimed.

Nervously Target-Practice stared down at the robe; he struggled to make out the arcane lettering in the dim light of the ceremonial chamber.

“D…no wait a second…D…R….” He muttered as he pulled the robe closer to his face, turning it in his hands as he tried to catch the light “D…R…DRY…DRY CLEAN ONLY!” He said out loud rather proud of himself.

“Arise Brother Dry-Clean-Only…” The Master’s voice boomed out once more.

“No…wait a minute…I’ve…I’ve read the wrong label…” Target-Practice stammered in protest.

“Brothers let us welcome Brother Dry-Clean-Only to the embrace of our holiest of orders! Guardians of the Hidden Truth that is Hidden and most trusted protectors of the great secret.” The Master proclaimed.

“Erm…excuse me…there’s been a bit of a mistake here…I think I read the wrong label…” Target-Practice continued to protest despite the roar of his fellow members of the order “…it actually says Shadow-Stalker here on the front…”

“Sorry?” The Master looked down from the pulpit in bemusement as a hush fell over the congregation.

“The label clearly says Shadow-Stalker; I think I read out the cleaning instructions by mistake!” 

One of the armoured figures flanking the Master leant over when beckoned and the two muttered to each other in whispered conference. 

“Well, we’re not really sure what we should do, nothing like this has happened before…” The Master said a little bemused “you see it’s all about tradition really when it boils down to it. We’ve finished the ceremony now…so I’m afraid that’s all there is to it!”

“But Shadow-Stalker is a much better name, how am I to strike fear into the hearts of the impure when I’m called Dry-Clean-Only?” Target-Practice complained “You might as well as just have named me Brother Towel or…or…or Brother Toilet-Brush!”

The argument was interrupted by the clatter of a pewter tankard being thrown to the floor in anger followed by a loud bang as the ante-chamber door was slammed shut.

“Oh well done,” The Master groaned “I hope you’re happy now you’ve gone and upset Brother Toilet-Brush!”

Target-Practice felt the eyes of the entire assembly glaring at him.

“Maybe Dry-Clean-Only isn’t so bad after all…” He smiled sheepishly as he started to pull the robe over one arm.

 

 

 

The Fortress...(of Doom)

The Fortress (...of doom)

Senior tech-serf Oswald hurried through the warren of trenchs to the Imperial Guard command bunker keeping as low as humanly possible as shells exploded around him showering him with mud and dirt.
The bunker lighting flickered and shook as the occasional direct hit was scored by the enemy rebel guardmen siege weapons.

"Well? Where is it?" Captain Vaan Damage asked impatiently as he sat in his ornate command throne in the centre of the bunker.

Oswald began to feel more than a little uncomfortable could feel the eyes of everyone in the bunker turning to him expectantly.

"There...well..."

"SPIT IT OUT MAN!" Vaan Damage bellowed as his patiance wore thin. An explosion tore into the roof of the bunker sending beams and debris crashing down as though his words were spoken with the power to bring down worlds around them. As the dust settled Oswald could see the arm of one of Vaan Damage's aids poking through the rubble.

"Never mind him, he'll be alright once he's had the rest of the afternoon off." Vaan Damage dismissed the injured aid casually "where is it? My men are bravely getting slaughtered out there!"

"It says it's not coming," Oswald blurted out "it says you upset it!"

Vaan Damage groaned as he ran the palm of his hand the length of his face.

"Brother Boombox, patch me through to the Fortress!" He barked to the Astarte sat at the comms panel.

"Yes my lord" the marine answered dutifuly as the comms system flickered into life.

"Fortress! this is Captain Vaan Damage I am ordering you to advance on my position and provide fire support immediately!"

The room was silent except for the dull crump of shells exploding out side and the hiss of static of from the open comms line.

"+++NO+++" The metallic voice replied as the static was interupted.

"Advance immediately!" Vaan Damage ordered 

"+++DON'T WANT TO+++" 

"As Captain of the first company I order you to advance!" The Captain barked, his knuckles whitening as he began to crush the arms of the command throne as he tightened his grip in impatience.

"+++NO+++CAN'T MAKE ME+++" The voice sulked.

"ADVANCE NOW!!!" The bunker shook with another direct hit, Oswald screamed rather girlishly and cowered in the corner of the room.

"+++DON'T WANT TO+++"

"What's is the matter Fortress?" Vaan Damage sighed.

There was silence.

"+++YOU SHOUTED AT ME+++"

"No I never!"

"+++YES YOU DID+++"

"I did no such thing!"

"+++YOU DID TECH-SERF OSWALD HEARD YOU+++"

Vaan Damage turned his gaze on the cowering Tech-Serf and muttered to himself under his breath. 

"You see those men out there?"

"+++WHAT THE SILVER ARMOURED MEN?+++" The disembodied voice enquired.

"No...those are OUR men..."

"+++OH SO I CAN'T SQUISH THEM THEN?+++"

"No..." The captain continued as he tried to ignore the last comment "the other men, the bad men."

"+++YES+++"

"They're ones that told me to shout at you!"

The Fortress paused in thought.

"+++CAN I SQUISH THEM?+++"

"Yes, go squish the bad men!" Vaan Damage sighed as he cradled his head in his hands.

"+++ORDER ACKNOWLEDGED+++TARGET SIGHTED AND ENGAGING+++"

The Captain slumped back in his chair, it was going to be a very long day. 

 

 

The Scouring of Vengist IV

 

Chapter 1: Prelude to War

 

The battle barge hung in high stationary orbit over Vengist IV like an ornate silver dagger poised to plunge deep into the heart of the planet. 
There would be no time for pleasentries with the Imperial nobility of the ruling caste of the Agri-world below. 

There would be no parades, no fanfares annoucing the arrival of the legendary Astartes, such was the urgency of their mission that even debarking by Thunder Hawks or Drop Pods was out of the question.

They were Angels of Death, the Emperor's rightious fury and they would decend apon the planet below like angry gods of war. This was a surgical strike straight to the heart of the Governor's palace from where they would establish a beach head to eradicate their foe.

The Governor's office was illuminated by a blinding white light that chilled the air, permafrost formed instantly over the ancient bookcases that lined the walls of the stately room that the light had touched. The Governor stared in frightened disbelief as the light faded to reveal a circle of metal giants, Terminators of the Adeptus Astartes, their storm bolters raised they began scanning the room as they established their surroundings. The giants strode forwards, the servos of their magnificent armour whined, great foot falls echoed around the chamber as they stomped forth to establis a perimenter at each of the four doors leading from the office.
The Governor, a skilled and passionate orator who had lead the planetary senate in debate countless times and who's very words had stirred millions of Imperial citizens, was for the first time in his life truely lost for words. 

At the center of the circle stood a lone Astarte, his armour although similar in hue to those of his comrades was suprisingly spartan. The emblem on his single shoulderpad seemed to depict a round yellow sun but it was hard to tell from a single glance in the poor light of the room. The Astarte stood before him like a mighty collosus, a legend of old both terrifying and awe inspiring. He was truely humbled by the Captain's presence.

"Forgive me Governor but there is little time for introductions," The Captain said as the Governor desperately tried not to wilt under the intense power of the giant's ice cold gaze "we intercepted your distress call and embarked with all haste!"

The Governor trembled as he attempted to reply. He stopped before the words could utter forth from his lips, his brow furrowed in bemusement.

"Dis...distress call?" He stammered.

"Yes, we received a distress call bound for holy Terra telling of a Xenos incursion. Although we are few in number we came as soon as we could!"

"I'm sorry...a distress call you say?" The governor repeated himself just to make certain what he was hearing was correct.

"Yes, it was bound for Terra via Astromican relay omega beta six three nine"

The rather puzzled Govenor retreated to his desk before perching his reading glasses on the end of his nose and began scanning through historical data backlogs.

"Ah, here we are," he exclaimed "it appears my predecessor dispatched an Administrium Adeptus Bioligicus Request form to the Agri-cultural Magos concerning an influx of a previously unseen xenos life form here on Vengist." he continued rather pleased with himself "The transmission is several centuries old, I'm afraid there has been a bit of a misunderstanding my leige." He smiled as he looked up from the scanner.

"What kind of xenos?" The Captain enquired.

The Governor tapped into key board and a single ray of light rose from the desk surface before blossoming into an image approximately eight inches high of an alien lifeform.

"THRONE!" The Captain exclaimed in horror "How big are these unholy terrors!" 

The Governor paused before answering.

"Erm, it's a life sized image...they're called Ptera-Squirrels. They are quite cute actually, they feed mostly on insects that threaten our crops. My children keep one as a pet, they're perfectly harmless unless..."

"Unless?" The Governor's choice of words had peaked the Captain's interest.

"Well, unless they are threatened by natural predators in which case later generations will under go metamorphosis into vicious blood drinking carnivores...but that takes...well, decades."

"And where are these xenos located?"

"Well," The Governor continued "several kilometres to the north of the city beyond the valley known as the Hot Gates, about a million or so but they're mostly harmless." He smiled.

"SERGEANT!" The Captain bellowed "Contact the Battle Barge, I want all Thunder Hawks prepared for combat drop within the hour!"

"C...combat drop?" The Governor laughed nervously "Is that really neccessary?"

The Captain rested his knuckles on the table as he drew himself down to eye level with the Governor.

"Do you know what is written in the Holy Codex Astartes concerning foul Xenos?" He snarled as the table began to creak and strain under his enormous weight. The Governor stared blankly. "It is written...that the man who...no wait...never allow the...no wait a minute..." His eyes glazed over for a moment as he stared blankly ahead mumbling under his breath to himself "Well, it says Xenos are bad and must be destroyed!" he growled as he slammed his fist into the table splintering it's ornate laminate surface.
Standing upright he turned to walk away.

"What is it you are saying, you're going to attack the ptera-squirrels?" The Governor asked, not quite liking where this conversation was leading.

"We will bombard them from orbit, civillian collateral damage shouldn't be more than oh, sixty or seventy percent at most!" the Captain remarked casually.

"SIXTY OR SEVENTY PERCENT!" The Govennor screamed in disbelief.

"Hmm, perhaps you are right these could prove a worthy opponent for the Chapter a land based assault would only amount to a casulaty rate of five to one in our favour!"

"NO!" The Governor's face was turning a bright scarlet "I will NOT sanction this action, I will launch a protest with the Administratium!"

Maximus froze in midstep. The Administratium, feth! That could lead to an Inquisitional enquiry and then the Cosmic Space Knights (of doom) might be made to explain for losing those damn STC templates.

"I strictly forbid you to land an army on Vengist soil!"

"Very well," Maximus retorted "I shall do as you request but just one thing..."

"Yes my leige?" The Govenror replied.

"The journey has been long and ardous, might I ask that my personal guard of three hundred and I be allowed to stretch our legs here on your beautiful planet?"

"Of course, I shall provide you with a personal escort..."

"That will not be neccessary Governor!" Maximus interrupted politely "I thought my men might want to go for a brisk walk, say several kilometres north of the city, to say...oh I don't know...the Hot Gates?" 
With that he turned smiling to himself, his Terminators falling in behind him as he left the Govenor alone in his office and prepared for war.



In the darkest depths of the Vengist system the fleet assembled. Colossal Astartes battle barges, from which ornate and ancient spires that reached out from their decks as though to stab the very heart of the stars themselves, majestically performed their final vector adjustments as they assumed battle formation.

Around them gathered the smaller vessels of the fleet. Strike Cruisers, the teeth of the attack that would tear the throats from their enemies, were alive with activity as their crews prepared the flight decks and powered up the vessels' formidable weapons batteries.
Each in turn themselves flanked by a small flotilla of support vessels and frigates that would provide protection should enemy fighter craft breach their formidable defences as the mighty Thunder Hawks disembarked to deploy the mighty warriors of the Chapter straight to the heart of their enemies flanked by smaller Storm Raven transports.

Brother-Sergeant Meatshield could not help but feel pride swell in his twin hearts. Even a hardened combat veteran of the chapter like himself could not help but be moved by such an awe inspiring spectacle as he took a moment to look out of the observation portal of the Strike Cruiser Planet Squisher before turning to address his men assembled on the flight deck.

"TODAY BROTHERS WE GO TO WAR!" He bellowed to the mass of genetically enhanced warriors that stood at attention before him, each clutching their Foe-fether pattern bolters across their chests.
This in itself was a sight to behold as they stood rank and file before their Thunder Hawk gun ships. A full company of the Emperor's finest weapon of retribution clad in full metallic plate armour, their faces hidden by the visors of their helmets he almost pitied their enemies.
A single disciplined roar drowned all other sound on the flight deck in response to his battle cry.

"Once again we find ourselves at war with the enemies of man" He continued as he walked along the first rank of the motionless Astartes.

"Once again we prepare to smite the foes of the Imperium, once more..."

Brother-Sergeant Meatshield stopped in his tracks and slowly took one step backwards as he turned to face Brother Scrounger. 

"What is that Brother Scrounger?" He remarked as he stared into the face of the Astarte.

"What's what Brother-Sergeant?" Scrounger enquired innocently.

"Your battle helmet, what's wrong with it?" He scowled at the unflinching warrior.

"This is artificer armour Brother-Sergeant. It's an MK II Crusade pattern battle helmet!" He grinned proudly to himself.

Brother-Sergeant Meatshield took a moment to compose himself.

"Then why does it say rations across the front?" He enquired softly.

"It's an ancient High Gothic battle inscription from the time of the Great Crusade Brother-Sergeant!" He grinned "It means to ration the fury of the Emperor's finest amongst your foes; it's actually quite philosophical I think."

"It's a rations can isn't Brother Scrounger!" He sighed heavily.

"I don't understand Brother-Sergeant?" Scrounger replied innocently "This is an ancient and treasured relic of our great Chapter, an honoured and glorious reminder of heroes of old that I proudly wear into battle!"

"It's a ration can that you've drilled eye holes in so you can see where you're going isn't it, you haven't even got eye lenses in it"

Scrounger's head slumped forwards slightly like a child that had been caught red handed stealing cookies from the jar as he stared awkwardly at his feet.

"Yes Brother-Sergeant...but...but...Brother Bullet shield took my issue helmet because he lost his..."

"No I didn't you jerk!" A voice screamed out from the rear ranks of the assembled Astartes.

"Yes you did, Brother Body bag saw you take it!" Scrounger yelled as he turned around to face his brothers shaking his fist in anger "He told me you took it from my foot locker whilst I was asleep!"

“Body bag…you lying jerk, you were the one that took it!” Bullet shield protested, a commotion broke out in the rear ranks as the two warriors childishly began shoving each other.

“No I never!” 

“BROTHERS!” Brother-Sergeant Meatshield bellowed “Save your anger for the enemy, now get to your Thunder Hawks for now we go to war!”

“EVERYONE REMEMBER WHERE WE PARKED!” The company replied before turning to embark the mighty birds of war and prepared to take the fight to the enemy.



The journey to the surface had proven uneventful. There had been no barrage of flak cannons blazing high explosive shells as the Astartes descended through the planet's atmosphere, no winged monstrosities clawing at their hulls in an attempt force them to crash into the dense jungle below, it was as if their enemy weren't even concerned with the angels of death that approached in machines of death and destruction. Truly these Ptera-Squirrels were a foe to be wary of.

The Storm Raven touched down in a small clearing, the moment the boarding ramp touched the surface of the soil the squad wasted no time and dispersed into the forest as the transport soared once more into the heavens to bring more of their brethren to the fight.

Even through the external grill and advanced breathing filters of his MkVII helm Brother-Sergeant Meatshield's augmented senses could pick out the individual scents of his surroundings. He could indentify his power armoured brothers by their individual musks. He could taste the faint metallic taint that hung in the air produced by the distant sprawling factories of Vengist City, carried by the prevailing winds. 
He could distinguish the individual sounds of the forest mapping his surroundings in his mind's eye despite the suit's sophisticated augers and auspexes. More importantly he could sense his enemy.

Meatshield silently raised a clenched fist signalling for his squad to halt. Each brother tensed as they immediately scanned the forest for signs of xenos activity, each brother watching the back of the man next to him.

There had been no word from Captain Maximus Vaan Damage and his brave 300 since they had left for the Hot Gates. 
Supreme Grand Chapter Master Benchpress had ordered the newly created clone tactical squads to begin sweeping the forests north of the city to locate them at their last known position. The Techs had a theory that there may well be a type of Ptera-Squirrel they hadn't encountered before, an intelligent leader caste, a Brain-Squirrel that must be eliminated at all costs. Sure, the Ptera-Squirrels hadn't mounted any form of offensive to suggest such a creature existed or displayed any form of activity other than scampering around the trees chasing each other's tails playfully but it was only a matter of time before they became organised and the war would begin in earnest.

The attack was sudden and unexpected. The attacker dropped from the trees above gliding on thin membranes that stretched between it's limbs to land squarely on the face plate of Brother Deadmeat. It clung to his visor briefly, staring him in the face curiously before scampering across his head and over his pack. Unable to draw a bead on his assailant with his Plasma Cannon Deadmeat let out a squeal of anguish. As one the squad turned and fired, the forest floor lit up with the blinding flash and roar of mass-reactive bolter shells impacting against Brother Deadmeat's armour. Then there was silence.

As the smoke cleared the squad advanced on the fallen form of their brother.

"Brother Deadmeat?... really sorry about that, are you ok?" Brother Token enquired sheepishly as he knelt next to his prone comrade and gently prodded the marine with his index finger.

Deadmeat sat bolt up right. "YOU SHOT ME...YOU SHOT ME YOU FETHING JERKS!" He screamed almost hysterically. His armour was pitted, blackened and scarred by the bolt shells, great pits of ceramite had been torn into the suit. "THAT REALLY HURT...YOU...YOU DUMB JERKS!" 

"Yeah...erm...well, sorry!" Token cringed "There was this xenos and it was sort of on your face..."

Brother-Sergeant Meatshield's raised his bolter "Anyone else hear that?" He interupted.

"Hear what?" Token said as he stood adopting a combat stance. 

"That whirling hissing sound," he cocked his head slightly as if listening intently "I can taste something unnatural in the air, something tainted, something industrial."

"All I can taste is fething blood" Deadmeat muttered as he wrenched his battered helmet free and spat several teeth into the palm of his hand.

Meatshield's mind raced back to his intensive one week sergeant training course at the Clone Acadamy, what was it he wasn't seeing here, what was it that whirled, hissed and produced chemical odours.

"Oh Throne..." He grimaced as he looked at Brother Deadmeat's Plasma pack, coolant gases venting from a ruptured hose.

"What?" Deadmeat said he rubbed his head smiling a toothless grin.

"Plasma reactor meltdown..." 

"Oh...feth..." Deadmeat sighed.

The immediate forest was consumed by a brilliant blue ball of light. Trees and foliage were vapourised as the super heated gases of the Plasma Cannon erupted in critical mass. Then there was only darkness. 

Being the furthest from Deadmeat's position when the reactor blew the Brother-Sergeant had been thrown clear of the explosion's epicenter to land deep into the forest.
As he lay on his side he became aware of the faintest sensation of a breeze blowing against his face through the shattered lenses of his visor.
Although he had no idea of how badly he'd been injured, his pounding head was a clear sign that he was still alive. 
As his vison began to clear he saw it. 
The Ptera-Squirrel approached in small bounding hops to stop right next to his face. Meatshield stared into it's two twinkling evil little eyes, his hearts pounding as it wrinkled it's tiny nose as if to sniff his visor. 
Try as he might he couldn't move his arm to reach his bolt pistol sidearm.
It moved it's furry little face closer, then stopped. 
Stood on it's two back leg's, it's tiny ears erect, it twiched it's head as it sniffed the air repeatedly.
The deafening crack of two trees spliting apart behind echoed across the forest as the large ceramite and admantium foot of Brother Hulk's dreadnought came crashing down squashing the xeno flat.
"Feth you, alien scum!" Meatshield laughed as he painfully rolled onto his front before using the venerable dreadnought's greave to haul himself to his feet.
There was little time for celebrations however.

"BROTHER-SERGEANT," Brother Hulk's voice boomed out over his external vox speakers "I'M READING MULTIPLE LIFE SIGNS ALL AROUND OUR POSITION, WE ARE SURROUNDED!"

"Throne!" Meatshield snarled unholstering his bolt pistol with fumbling fingers "It's a trap, we are truely undone!" 

 

 

 

Chapter 2: An Unexpected Turn of Events

 

From the great tower of the Governor's palace Iziah had watched as the carnage of war spread from the forests of the north into the outskirts of the great city.
Had Governor Iziah not been sat with his head in his hands groaning to himself then he may have seen the sinister Iron Duke enter the room. As it was he was too pre-occupied with the impending disaster that surely would engulf the world of Vebgist IV sending them crashing into endless war.
"My Lord" The Iron Duke announced himself as an aid scurried into the room frantically puffing as out of breath he desperately searched for an electrical socket to plug the Iron Duke's bionic life support into.
The Iron Duke was a giant of a man but after an unfortunate tanning machine accident he had been forced to replace the entire right hand side of his body with sophisticated ornate bionics and bronze machine parts.

"You know of the presence of the Astartes here on Vengist I presume?" The Governor sighed in an exaggerated manner as he slowly looked up at his first general.

"Yes my Lord, I have been monitoring the Astartes movements since the Captain and his bodyguard disembarked their transports." 

"And?" Governor Iziah groaned.

"And shortly after setting off they headed west for several kilometres, then stopped. My scouts said that it appeared they were arguing amongst themselves as to which way they were supposed to be going before doubling back to their transports and finally heading north to the Hot Gates my Lord. I have...I...I ha..." The Iron Duke began to slurr his speach heavily as a small red light on the side of his side began to blink in time to a warning chime.

The aid who was slumped in the corner lept to his feet pulling a small brass key from his tunic and inserted it in the side of the Duke's head. He began furiously turning the key until the the little light turned green and the chiming stopped. Producing a small silk cloth he gently dabbed the drool from the corner of the of the Duke's mouth and hurried back to the shadows. 
His half clockwork brain fully wound he continued. "I have despatched an aid to my 2nd Bearded Grenadiers battalion to send word that they should wait in ambush for the Astartes beyond the Hot Gates."

The Governor looked up in a combination of shock and horror.

"You did what?" His mouth hung open in disbelief at what he was hearing from the Duke.

"I have despatched my finest regiment to confront the invading Astartes and drive them from our proud world. For too long we have lived under the yoke of oppression that is the Imperium, we will strike out into the stars and bring them to their knees! Even as we speak my artillery battalions are bombarding their positions driving them to our waiting troops"

"W...wh...why? Why would you do this? ARE YOU FETHING MAD!!!" Iziah stood bolt upright and screamed hysterically. "The Imperium's finest troops, super humans that carved an empire from the very stars themselves and you are attacking them with old men armed with flint lock rifles?"

"Ah..." The Duke said with a smug smile creeping across his lips as he twisted the tip of his long moustache "but they are fighting on two fronts, we will catch them unexpected between our troops and the xenos..."

"SQUIRRELS...THEY...ARE...FETHING PTERA-SQUIRRELS!" Iziah screamed, his face scarlet with frustration "They are no more of a threat than...than...your aid sat there in the corner!"

The Iron Duke paused for a second to take this new information on board. 

"Hmm, good point..." He said as he drew his ornate las-pistol and shot the aid dead. "Better to be safe than sorry..." He smiled. 



Senior tech-serf Oswald hurried through the warren of trenches to the command bunker keeping as low as humanly possible as shells exploded around him showering him with mud and dirt. Shells raining down from the Vengist PDF artillery positions in the hills to the south had forced the Astartes to engage the enemy across the Vengist country side that was rapidly becoming a vast no-man's of crater shells and scorched rock.

As Oswald frantically scrambled through the door to the bunker the lighting flickered and shook as the occasional direct hit was scored by the enemy rebel guardmen siege weapons.

"Well? Where is it?" Captain Vaan Damage asked impatiently as he sat in his ornate command throne in the centre of the bunker.

Oswald began to feel more than a little uncomfortable as he sensed the eyes of everyone in the bunker turning to him expectantly.

"There...well..."

"SPIT IT OUT MAN!" Vaan Damage bellowed as his patiance wore thin. An explosion tore into the roof of the bunker sending beams and debris crashing down as though his words were spoken with the power to bring down worlds around them. As the dust settled Oswald could see the arm of one of Vaan Damage's aids poking through the rubble.

"Never mind him, he'll be alright once he's had the rest of the afternoon off." Vaan Damage dismissed the injured aid casually "where is it? My men are bravely getting slaughtered out there!"

"It says it's not coming," Oswald blurted out "it says you upset it!"

Vaan Damage groaned as he ran the palm of his hand the length of his face.

"Brother Boombox, patch me through to the Fortress!" He barked to the Astarte sat at the comms panel.

"Yes my lord" the marine answered dutifuly as the comms system flickered into life.

"Fortress! this is Captain Vaan Damage I am ordering you to advance on my position and provide fire support immediately!"

The room was silent except for the dull crump of shells exploding out side and the hiss of static of from the open comms line.

"+++NO+++" The metallic voice replied as the static was interupted.

"Advance immediately!" Vaan Damage ordered 

"+++DON'T WANT TO+++" 

"As Captain of the first company I order you to advance!" The Captain barked, his knuckles whitening as he began to crush the arms of the command throne as he tightened his grip in impatience.

"+++NO+++CAN'T MAKE ME+++" The voice sulked.

"ADVANCE NOW!!!" The bunker shook with another direct hit, Oswald screamed rather girlishly and cowered in the corner of the room.

"+++DON'T WANT TO+++"

"What's is the matter Fortress?" Vaan Damage sighed.

There was silence.

"+++YOU SHOUTED AT ME+++"

"No I never!"

"+++YES YOU DID+++"

"I did no such thing!"

"+++YOU DID TECH-SERF OSWALD HEARD YOU+++"

Vaan Damage turned his gaze on the cowering Tech-Serf and muttered to himself under his breath. 

"You see those men out there?"

"+++WHAT THE SILVER ARMOURED MEN?+++" The disembodied voice enquired.

"No...those are OUR men..."

"+++OH SO I CAN'T SQUISH THEM THEN?+++"

"No..." The captain continued as he tried to ignore the last comment "the other men, the bad men."

"+++YES+++"

"They're ones that told me to shout at you!"

The Fortress paused in thought.

"+++CAN I SQUISH THEM?+++"

"Yes, go squish the bad men!" Vaan Damage sighed as he cradled his head in his hands.

"+++ORDER ACKNOWLEDGED+++TARGET SIGHTED AND ENGAGING+++"

The Captain slumped back in his chair, it was going to be a very long day. 

 

 

In the swirling vortex of the warp a single spark of light set against the maelstrom of unimaginable colours bobbed on a sea of emotional tides and eddies like a lost piece of drift wood. With little will of it's own the insignificant shapeless sentient form drifted in and out of consciousness as it desperately clung to life.

As the region of the ether became to calm it mustered it's last ounce of strength and reached out into the material world, searching for some hidden treasure, a tiny jewel of hope that it could cling to for dear life.
In the grim darkness of the future where there was only war there seemed to be no hope, despair and cruelty had long since salted the lands rendering it almost impossible for it's seed to take root. Just as all seemed lost the creature found the tiniest essence, as a small child on a back water Agri-world giggled at his father's mindless attempt to amuse the boy with a game of peek-a-boo as he lay in his crib. The tiniest of surges of power coursed through his form, harnessing this energy he reached out further searching for the spark of the souls of the dull-witted and the accident prone. On the small planet of Hubran, a feudal world that existed blissfully with no knowledge of the greater universe, a small group of farm workers laughed heartily at the misfortune of one of their co-workers as he struck his thumb with a hammer. With a patience that no mortal could comprehend he reached out further still, a lowly scribe miss-judging the placement of his chair as he sat down heavily onto the hard stone floor, a dock worker attentively staring at one of the local bar girls not watching where he was going cursed as he walked straight into one of the street lights that he had passed hundreds of times routinely, drawing on these misfortunes the life form began to grow in power. 

At great risk it tried to force it's will and influence into the realm of man, it needed a little more than a single champion, an unwittingly inept pawn that he could control to his own ends.

It was on the world of Trasken Falls that he found such a worthless entity, a latent psyker that had little understanding of of his powers that barely registered with the warp. An insignificant being that bought calamity and ruin to whatever he touched.
As the lowly guardsman stood watch at his post he had no knowledge of the dark force that now preyed upon his soul in the warp as he absentmindedly tossed the skin of the Brananna fruit that he had been eating over his shoulder. With great assertion the being began to manipulate the path of fate, the adjutant in his freshly pressed and cleaned uniform hurried across the compound as he struggled with his vision obscured with arms full of paper work and files. He placed his foot with full weight on the discarded fruit skin as his legs flipped out from under him sending his carefully ordered and signed in triplicate forms into the air as he fell face first into the mud. With a casual breath the being scattered them to the wind as he reveled in the unfolding calamity.

A bike messenger roared into the camp and the entity saw it's chance as it wrapped a drifting sheet of paper around his face causing him to lose control violently as he tore through a squad of disciplined marching soldiers sending them scattering for safety and into the path of the incoming Leman Russ battle tank.
The mighty machine veered sharply to avoid the poor messenger as the lowly guardsman stared in disbelief as the feeling of utter dread took hold in his gut as he watched the tank veer sharply towards the General's command tent. The words of warning getting stuck in this throat he watched helplessly as he saw his meager military career flash before his eyes. 
As abruptly as it had turned the tank came to a grinding halt stopping mere centimeters from from the canvas canopy. The top hatch of the Russ swung open with a heavy clang as the tank commander emerged screaming obscenities in low gothic. With a heavy sigh of relief the lowly guardsman sat down on the crates behind him.

There was a single but all too familiar heavy metallic click.

Knowing that full well what that sound was he looked down to confirm his worst fear with a grimmace. The edges of the anti-tank mine stuck out from beneath his legs as he let out one last final groan of defeat before being blown apart in a red cloud of mist.

In the now calmed region of the warp that the entity dwelled there was a single blast of radiant light as the roar of insane laughter echoed through the Immaterium. Across the Imperium of man the self righteous, the cynical and the down right obnoxiously serious tossed and turned in their sleep briefly before returning to their slumber.

On a long forgotten battlefield the winds carried a single haunting battle cry shouted out in unison by a thousand voices.

"EVERYONE, REMEMBER WHERE WE PARKED!"

And in poorly lit office somewhere on the outskirts of Imperial space a lowly former Imperial Governor paused in his duties as he registered an ever so slight facial tic before thinking nothing more of it as he continued with his work.

In the Warp something terribly ancient smiled to itself. 

 

 

 

The Pan'Zee Craftworld

http://i18.photobucket.com/albums/b141/Doghouse12/PANZEE.jpg

+++Xenos Cross-Reference - Pan'Zee Craftworld+++
+++Inquisitorial Clearance - Blue...no wait...Yellow!!!+++
+++Current Homeworld: Craftworld Fleet+++
+++This Transmission is bought to you by the Inquisition and the number 3+++


TRANSCRIPT RECIEVED...PLAY BACK INITIATED...

Stardate 982.M41...just after lunch.

CSK (od) Strike Cruiser World Muncher establishes contact with previously unknown Eldar Exodite colony on Mudball III.
The following is a transcript of the first diplomatic mission.

1215Hrs: First Contact

GRAND POOBAH BRETT: We like totally welcome you to our like world space dudes.
CAPTAIN RIP SLAMDUNK: DIE XENOS SCUM!!!

***Transmission interrupted by sound of eratic bolter fire followed by dull thud of a decapitated xenos corpse hitting the ground***

GRAND POOBAH LANCE: DUDE!!! You like totally blew his head off!!! That was totally uncalled for!

1217Hrs: The first interstellar Pan'Zee war begins.



The Pann-Zel Exodites

In the year 981.M29 a navigator called Durlan Ocellati discovered by chance a route through to a previously inaccessible region of space known as the Wheel of Fire.
This region of space had remained isolated and had long since been cut off from the rest of mankind.
Since the fall of their kind the Exodites of the Pann-Zel lived in harmony on the world of Mu-Baal. They had become seperated from horrors of a war-torn universe by the hostile warp storms that had engulfed the region long ago.
Over the millenia they had prospered and although they had reverted to a simpler existance they had preserved and maintained their technological heritage of their pre-Fall civilisation.
Eons of isolation had allowed them to hone their abilities and create new paths to follow of enlightenment free of bloodshed, creating a near perfect state of nirvana where Eldar and nature existed almost as one.


The Curse of the Absurd
It was claimed by Captain Slamdunk that it had been his intention all along to traverse the Wheel of Fire in order to assist the Space Wolves in their five year crusade to eradicate the xenos threat in the region and restore the worlds of man to the embrace of the Imperium (Cross-Ref: The Wolf Time).
The truth however was that he'd put his coffee mug down on the star charts before passing them to the navigator.
The Navigator interpretated the ring left by the mug as a course alteration that resulted in the CSK(od) inadvertantly traversing the recently charted area of space known as the Wheel of Fire.
As they emerged from warp space dangerously close to the planet of Mu-Baal the Curse of the Absurd stretched out across the expanse of space. 
It's mischievous powers amplified a hundred fold by the crystaline world spirit the influence of Lok'il spread across the planet's surface warping the entire Exodite civilisation and damning them to suffer the curse for all time. 
The Pann-Zel race was warped by the dark powers in a split second, forever to be known as the Pan'Zee.

[Grotsmasha]

Successor Chapter: The Screaming Weasels

http://i152.photobucket.com/albums/s196/Mutt2050/SCREAMINGWEASELS.jpg

"GIVE ME ONE HUNDRED SPACE MARINES, FAILING THAT GIVE ME ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND SCREAMING WEASELS..."
Anon: Siege of Mudball III


+++Chapter Cross-Reference - The Screaming Weasels+++
+++Inquisitorial Clearance - What number am I thinking of?+++
+++Current Chapter Base: Classified...well...maybe not so much classified as sort of misplaced...I'm sure I wrote it down here somewhere...+++
+++This Transmission is based on a true story that my room mate Dave told me+++


Origins

During the time before the time of the complete destruction of their homeworld the Cosmic Space Knights (of doom) had decided that they were in fact Successors of the Black Templars. 
Many of the Chapter's historians point out that this was due to trace elements in the sixth zygote that strongly suggested genetic markers that may have originated from the Primarch Rogal Dorn. 
Other more liberal thinkers point out that this is just rubbish made up by the then Supreme Grand Chapter Master Stubble Largepecks to justify him getting his hands on a sporty new Land Raider Crusader. 
Such liberal thinkers have long since found themselves assigned to be UCSS Rules Lawyers and accidently repeatedly run over by a Land Raider Crusader before being accidently shot in the back of the head whilst sleeping and dumped out an airlock.
Due to the relaxed recruiting standards at this time the CSK(od) Chapter ranks grew to an unimaginable and to be frank unmanageble size. 
Such barbaric recruiting practices such as the trial of the thousand dagger cuts had long since been replaced by more entertaining trials such as the holy trial of fitting your fist into your mouth or the blessed trial of beer mat flipping.
After much debate and consultation of the chapter's most sacred artifact, the Emperor's Magic Eightball, it was finally decided that the Chapter should sire a number of Successors. The first of which would be the Screaming Weasels.



The Great Founding of The Screaming Weasels

The Chapter Council debated for many months as to the nature of their first true successors. What form of combat would they specialise in? Who would be worthy of leading them, forging them in battle untill the day when their name rang out across the very stars themselves carried by word of their great exploits? What aspects of war should be concidered when divining their heraldry and chapter icon, would they strike from the heavens above like the eagle or would they tear into their enemy mercilessly like the Lion?
These and many other questions that should have been concidered were thrown out the window after some of the brothers managed to vapourise the west wing of the monestry along with the Supreme Grand Chapter Master's newly constructed Land Raider Crusader during a drunken game of pin the melta bomb on the donkey. The trouble makers had to go!

And so the chapter council announced a great feast to be held on the planet of Spitball Prime in honour of the new founding. Word was spread throughout the chapter that the party would be held in shifts, the first one thousand would decend to the planet via drop pod and begin the celebrations to be later joined by successive waves of their brethren who had to remain behind to do some important stuff that the first wave clearly wouldn't be interested in. 
The truth, however, was slightly more sinister. The first wave had been selected by the council from the the more...how shall we say?.."special" battle brothers. Those that had truely excelled at ineptitude, those brothers that found themselves out of their depth in a car park puddle, the ones that had been forced to wear mittens to stop them from hurting themselves.
Once the brothers had disembarked from the battle barges via drop pod heading for planetside the fleet left orbit and headed for the warp.



The Dropsite Masquerade

After making planet fall it was several hours before the betrayal became apparent and several hours more before one of the brothers found a note pinned to a single keg of beer:



http://i18.photobucket.com/albums/b141/Doghouse12/Sol/note2.jpg




And so the Screaming Weasels were formed, however, fate was to yet deal a cruel blow to the CSK(od). The destruction of their homeworld resulted in near total annihilation of the CSK(od) with over ninety percent of their chapter wiped out ensuring that no further successors would be created.

 

Chapter Icon

The Screaming Weasels traditon states that each brother is reponsible for maintaining his own armour, this includes painting his own squad markings and chapter icon onto the shoulder pads.
This has led to some degree of rivalry between brothers that can paint and those that can't. For example Brother Grissel Bigthumbs was woefully unskilled when it came to painting and resorted to using a crude stamp made from a potato dipped in white paint. 
Brother Davinci Vangoff, however, was a master of the paint brush and spent hundreds of hours perfecting what can only be described as a "work of genius that made all those who gazed apon it weep tears of joy". 
Brother Vangoff's tragic death was a great loss to the chapter and the circumstances of his demise still remain a mystery to this day. He was found dead in his quarters, stuffed in a locker having forcibly choked to death on several large potatoes dipped in white paint.

Chapter Colours

Brother Hans Slamdunk; Second Company

http://i152.photobucket.com/albums/s196/Mutt2050/CAJ75WE5.png

Veteran Sergeant Chuck Bigchest; Second Company

http://i152.photobucket.com/albums/s196/Mutt2050/CAPRJKWP.jpg

 

The Legacy of Brother Davinci Vangoff

Since the creation of their new Fortress-Monastery on Spitball II (formerly the Treehouse-Monastery) Brother Vangoff had been an exceptionally gifted pioneer of technology. After the creation of their chapter the battle brothers realised that they basically had the armour they were wearing and a keg of beer with which to work with. It is written that the heavens parted and a glorious ray of light sent by the Emperor himself guided the brother Vangoff to a hidden temple now know as the "Grand Repository of Knowledge and Stuff."
The truth is somewhat different, after a blazing arguement with Brother Bigthumbs, Vangoff stormed off into the desert only to fall down an abandoned mineshaft. When he came to he discovered that he had discovered a complete and intact STC system.
From here he created everything the chapter needed, always careful to ensure that he and he alone knew the correct codes to imput to create what was needed.
It was a golden era that came to an abrupt end with his untimely and mysterious death. The Techmarines laboured long and hard to try to get the machine that Vangoff claimed to have created to work. But no-matter how hard they tryed they couldn't get it right. It seemed that the secrets of the "Artificiers Creation Machine Engine" would be forever lost. 
That was untill one of Vangoff's assistants stumbled across his secret journal that told of clues hidden throughout the Fortress-Monastery that would unlock the code of the great A.C.M.E.
After half and hour the techmarines gave up looking having realised that Vangoff was far too clever for his own good and now produce things by wildly stabbing at the keypad and hoping for the best. Whatever comes out the other end is claimed to be what the Techmarine intended to create in the first place.

The Legendary Plate Armour of Doom

It is said that before his untimely death Vangoff had begun work on upgrading the armour of the chapter and that he had created seven suits of power armour so wonderous that their very beauty would turn blows aside. This is probably a bit of an exaggeration and it's far more likely got something to do with the sophisiticated repulsor fields housed with the armour itself.
To date only one suit has been found and is traditionally worn by the Supreme Grand Chapter Master. 


Chapter Organisation

The Screaming Weasels are divided into ten standard companies as laid down in the codex numbering one to ten. The First being the veteran company and the tenth being the Scout company.

 

Battlecry

"Not in the Face!"

Chapter Traits

Cut and Paste
Being a Successor of the CSK(od) the Chapter follows the example of their Progenitors for guidance in matters of organisation.
However, the Screaming Weasels have long since decided that all the aggrovation caused by organisational changes really aren't worth the effort. 
Therefore some of the CSK(od) rules apply to theScreaming Weasels but in true codex style they are simply cut and paste with the term "CSK(od) being replaced by "TheScreaming Weasels."
See And They Shall Have no Clue for an example.


And They Shall Have No Clue

The Screaming Weasels are notoriously bad at organisation of any kind. Many battles have been won simply because they have overrun enemy positions thinking they were retreating to their own lines Many times they have halted their retreat (Cross Reference: See Tactical Withdrawal) to bicker amongst themselves as to who had the Thunderhawk keys last and who's stupid idea was it to come here in the first plase?
The Screaming Weasels benefit from the And They Shall Know No Fear special rules.


The Legendary Armour of Vangoff

It is said that who ever wears this armour will be destined for greatness or at the very least look pretty darn cool. The armour is currently worn by Supreme Grand Chapter Master Lars Bigmuscles.

Special Rules

The armour is treated as Artificier Armour and incorporates an Iron Halo. As it is extremely rare only one suit may be taken in an army.

Recruitment Poster

http://i152.photobucket.com/albums/s196/Mutt2050/RECRUITMENT1.jpg

[Grotsmasha]

I, Grotsmasha, undertake Grotsmasha's CSK(oD) Kit-Bash Challenge to kit-bash at least one Brother Potty-Mouth by May 2nd, 2015.

[Brother-Chaplain Kage]

What? What is this? I don't even...

[1ncarnadine]

Wow. I remember seeing this before somewhere, from like 5 or 6 years ago or something. Was this originally on Warseer? I... I've always wanted more of this. So much more.

[Grotsmasha]

What? What is this? I don't even...

 

Time to let our collective hair down and have a bit of fun before the ETL kicks us all into overdrive....

Wow. I remember seeing this before somewhere, from like 5 or 6 years ago or something. Was this originally on Warseer? I... I've always wanted more of this. So much more.

 

Yeah, simultaneous logs here and Warseer.

[HighGothic]

This.. this is fantastic.  

[Adeptus-Alaska]

this is probably the most most awesome I've ingested at one time in a while......well done.

 

 

wish I had Hobby stuff.

 

and, to be honest, the Screaming Weasels colour scheme is not that bad... I quite like it.

[Grotsmasha]

All credit to Doghouse, this is 100% his fluff, and it is by far my favourite DIY Chapter.

[DimDim]

You suck Grotsmasha! The second  I saw this I was so hyped to do a ork in power armour, then i kept reading (great minds think alike?)

Lol looks like fun, looking forward to peoples entries.

[Teetengee]

I, Teetengee, undertake Grotsmasha's CSK(oD) Kit-Bash Challenge to kit-bash at least one Brother Fishlips by May 2nd, 2015.

[Teetengee]

Done:
Brother Lucius Nagruk Fishlips has turned to the worship of the blood god. Unfortunately he has a few difficulties in actually engaging in his endeavor. First, his speech patterns (due to the clone casting equipment beginning to wear out), second his choice of weapons, and third a cruel prank pulled by Tzeentch after he blacked out eating some of Nurgle’s fauna. The combination of the first two means that Brother Fishlips is often seen rushing at the enemy shouting “Blub foh da blub glub!!!” as he messily beats them into submission dual wielding seasonal seafood. His only confirmed kill was with a sea urchin. The final difficulty that Brother Fishlips has with creating a holy river of blood lined by a beach of skulls of the worshippers of the corpse god is that Tzeentch has convinced him that the rest of the CSK(oD) also worship Khorne, thus Fishlips obeys their orders without question.

 

http://i.imgur.com/nuOGUPF.jpg
http://i.imgur.com/ljSRqMd.jpg

http://i.imgur.com/npV9T9C.jpg

http://i.imgur.com/TyIehVs.jpg

http://i.imgur.com/l9xErzq.jpg

Also, I am not sure if I was successful in making the right hand fish look sufficiently like a mackerel, but that was my intent.

[Grotsmasha]

Ha!!! Brother Fishlips, love it :tu:

[GhostMalone]

Grot I'd love to challenge this one but honestly I'm drawing a blank on what to build

[GhostMalone]

You know what stuff it

 

 

I, Kurama undertake Grotsmasha's CSK(oD) Kit-Bash Challenge to kit-bash at least one space marine brother Sarah Jessica Parker by May 2nd, 2015

[Grotsmasha]

You know what stuff it

I, Kurama undertake Grotsmasha's CSK(oD) Kit-Bash Challenge to kit-bash at least one space marine brother Sarah Jessica Parker by May 2nd, 2015

This is gunna be awesome....

[GhostMalone]

All I can say is space marine tzeentch curse and LotR Honor Knight horse.

 

For now that is all you get

[Grotsmasha]

One week to go guys, lets see some more sign-ups and entries!!!!

[The_Chaplain]

One week to go guys, lets see some more sign-ups and entries!!!!

grotsmasha is there any deadline for submitting completions for previous challenges or is it a whenever sort of thing? I have some HQs finished, but am swamped with work this week so taking pics is a bit iffy.

[Grotsmasha]

 

One week to go guys, lets see some more sign-ups and entries!!!!

grotsmasha is there any deadline for submitting completions for previous challenges or is it a whenever sort of thing? I have some HQs finished, but am swamped with work this week so taking pics is a bit iffy.

 

 

The deadline for the previous challenges is the same deadline as this one, May 2nd.

 

Cheers,

Jono

[Razblood]

I, Razblood undertake Grotsmasha's CSK(oD) Kit-Bash Challenge to kit-bash at least one Space Marine brother "Pew Pew" by May 2nd, 2015.

[Razblood]

Hope I'm not too late with this one, got distracted with ETL stuff.

The tale of Brother "Pew Pew" of the CsnoD.

In Pew Pew's mind he is the greatest shot in the universe thanks to his intensive study of ancient shooting stances and absolute understanding of ballistics, in actuality a dead Chaos Spawn would outshoot him, however thanks to the curse of the absurd it seems that no matter the range, nor how badly he aims brother Pew Pew never misses.....his own squadmates.

This has made him a bit of a pariah amongst the chapter, which he just takes as jealousy of his "leet skillz".

Despite this he is deployed often by Captain Van Damage into the most inhospitable and brutal battles possible, it may just be an unfortunate side effect that several of Van Damage's doubters have mysteriously perished in these engagements due to bolt shells in the back of the head.....

Brother Pew Pew commonly uses a highly customised Bolt Pistol nicknamed "Old Useless" with which he causes much consternation to the rest of the chapter during firing drills at which point it's common practice to hide in the armoury, because "theres no way he can get us in here, right?"

[GhostMalone]

Brilliant ^^^^

[Razblood]

Brilliant ^^^^

Thanks :)