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Inspired by Grieux's emphasis on building a force on a budget (http://www.bolterandchainsword.com/topic/334419-primaris-red-scorpions-captain-complete/) I thought I'd join the crusade. My CoC Vow boils down to a 1500pt list composed of a Battalion and an Outrider Detachment and the plan is to paint it in two months. I Vowed on October 5 and have until December 15, so tick-tock. Here's the damage;

 

Start Collecting! Daemons of Slaanesh - $113 (all figures in CAD unless otherwise noted and inc. H.S.T.)

- Unit #1 & #2  Heralds on foot

- Part unit #5 ten Daemonettes

- Unit #9 - five Seekers

- Units #11 & #12 Hellflayers  

 

Start Collecting! Daemons of Slaanesh - $113

- Unit #15 Herald on foot

- Part unit #6 ten Daemonettes

- Unit #10 - five Seekers

- Units #13 & #14 Hellflayers

 

Daemonettes box - $40

- Part unit #5 eight Daemonettes

 

Daemonettes box - $40

- Part unit #6 seven Daemonettes

 

Daemonettes box - $40

- Part unit #7 ten Daemonettes

 

Daemonettes box - $40

- Part unit #7 seven Daemonettes

 

Seekers box - $40

- Units #3 & #4 Heralds on Steeds

- Part unit #8

 

Seekers box - $40

- Part unit #8

 

Bits order (www.letthedicedecide.co.uk) - $13

- 3x 25mm base (Units #1, #2 and #15 Heralds on foot)

- 2x 105mmx70mm oval bases (Units #13 & #14 Hellflayers)

 

Total Cost - $479 CAD/$372 USD*/283 GBP*

 

Leftovers - Herald on foot, eight Daemonettes, two Seekers/Heralds on Steeds

 

*as of 10/27/17, per xe.com

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I picked up the CSM codex last night, does a Land Raider really cost nearly double the price of a Daemon Prince now or am I doing it wrong?

My bitz order arrived and I'm an anus so I have bought the wrong size bases for my other two Hellflayers, which are now on the proverbial back-burner. However, as established by the late, great social philosopher Bob Ross there are no mistakes - only happy little accidents - so I now have the materials to make a couple of objective markers for the ladies of the Violet Heart, which is pretty horrorshow.

Here's a sop to my vanity masquerading as a teaser of the next phase of this project;

Katenka Vigoskaya, Tikhaya Pevitsa

gallery_65093_14245_6497.jpg

Also, happy Hallowe'en you hoopy froods.

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Completion

Unit #10 - five Seekers

gallery_65093_14245_10372.jpg

gallery_65093_14245_3444.jpg

I've started to toy with lists for CSM and for R&H that will tie in here and have done some basic planning of a few things. As the two of you who read this will have noticed, there's a distinct Russian/Soviet vibe going on which I'd like to carry on to my R&H minis, who are called names like Komarov, Soshnikov and Petrichenko. Given that, I really, really, really, want to use DKoK minis with these heads;

337-1283-thickbox.jpg

Cool, eh? So what's the problem? Well, if I build my list with Cadians or Catachans, it will cost ca. $950, if I build it with DKoK and 3rd party heads, it will cost ca. $1,750. Yikes.

I feel like I'll never be happy with a Cadian/Catachan force, but spending that much on a 2000pt list feels like madness.

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That moment when you could go crazy and buy all the minis, but instead you spend $8k on exams.

le sigh.

No update, just a moan from an entitled, privileged, white man. Have a picture of the real life Sasha Aleksandrovna (Soshnikova) in compensation;

gallery_65093_14245_2153.jpg

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  • 3 weeks later...

Slightly ranty. You have been warned. 

 

Picked up the last box I need to complete my COC Vow, because apparently when you pay for delivery from my 'F'LGS you still have to go pick your item up. Got home, opened the box and saw that of the ten bases provided, none are the same as the bases provided for Seekers in the Start Collecting! box, so now I have 15 Seekers on oval bases and 5 on bike bases, which is going to annoy me everytime I look at them, and I won't have time to acquire the proper bases before the end of the Call. 

 

le sigh. Pass the zydrate.

 

Completions -

 

Unit #3 - Herald on Steed

 

24862346_10208418528095842_6666284740318

 

Unit #4 - Herald on Steed

 

24852470_10208418528495852_8151781173051

 

Unit #13 - Hellflayer

 

24993452_10208418528735858_3877046499230

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Alright, tiddly-peeps. 

 

Here's the Vow as it currently stands, infesting the little known planet of Cupboard above the Fridge. Everything is built.

 

25158019_10208449099660112_7749960202008

 

To be added to this are two more Seekers and eight more Daemonettes, which will give me a 1750pt force. Which is nice.

 

60 Daemonettes

3 x 6 Seekers

6 Heralds

6 Chariots

66.6% of non-Herald infantry models have (or will have) purple hair...

 

Once a plastic KoS is released, I'll add that too for a 2k force comprising 18 units...

 

Eyo vlast velika.

 

And here's what's left to paint before midnight ET tomorrow;

 

25158209_10208449099300103_8862227013048

 

Pozhelay mne udachi. Wish me luck.

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  • 2 weeks later...
  • 2 weeks later...

I, Res Ipsa Loquitur, make this oath of moment to submit a completed story about Leonid Aleksandrovich 'Bolshoyestvol' Komarov, a reluctantly renegade planetary defence trooper.

Big Iron

Paradise Lost – Part I.

 

Aleksandr Nikolayevich Komarov marched out of Kotlin to defend the Imperial order he believed passionately in and to liberate his birthplace from Heretics. He fought bravely in numerous actions and was the recipient of several field promotions, rising to KomBat within six months of war breaking out. He died unregarded in the mud; half of his skull blown away by an errant artillery shell fired by his comrades as he and his battalion assaulted a Heretic bunker.

 

The Kommisars called it 'collateral damage'.

 

She read the line again, quite unable to believe that such a thing had been committed to print in the first place. The words didn't swim, didn't change. “The famous man looked at the red cup” they read. She laughed to herself, rested the slate on her rounded stomach and wondered about a society that could venerate such rubbish. She thought of Sanya, miles away fighting for his beliefs and again prayed that the Emperor would see him well. He would be surprised in the change in her since he left; she had written but did not know whether he had received her letters. All was well, said the wire. The Heretics had been pushed back to the outskirts by heavy Imperial shelling and minimal losses had been sustained. The war would be over in weeks. Sanya would return to the factory, they would marry and together they would embark on this new chapter of life.

 

The months passed, and Sanya did not return. A year and Sanya did not return, did not yet know about the boy so far as she knew. Then, a letter. She read 'missing in action, presumed deceased' and wept. Eventually, the Heretics were defeated and their surviving leaders were summarily executed in Kotlin's Main Square. Sanya did not return.

 

Seven years went by and the boy's grandfather said it was time. He lived in a brutal and lawless world and he had to know how to fight or he would be finished before he even got going. She didn't – couldn't – disagree. It was obvious that Kronstaat IV had never really recovered from the Marzanna Uprising, as it became known. Central government had not been able to fully reassert control, crime was rife and you could not rely on the Arbites who were more concerned with their own prestige and power than maintaining order. Reluctantly, she agreed and the boy was given his father's stub gun, a relic of a man who went to war and never came home. The boy was not large and was not well nourished and the pistol hung prominent and ostentatious on his hip.

 

Between the Wars – Part II.

 

Leonid Aleksandrovich Komarov eyed him across the room saw him spit, saw him take a gulp of his zydrate, saw him toss a few creds on the bar and stand up, swaying slightly. He watched him leave, followed him across the square, across the market, down a dark laneway and shot him in the back of the head. He watched him crumple, dropped the pistol to the floor and then faded away into the cold night.

 

It was his fifteenth birthday.

 

The situation on Kronstaat IV did not improve. New heretical blood cults were being uncovered on an almost monthly basis across the planet. Resistance to Imperial rule intensified and was allegedly crushed in joint actions between the pink-robed Arbites and the Defence Force that made lots of noise and caused colossal destruction but which in reality seemed to achieve little.

 

It had been immediately apparent that dropping the pistol at the scene had been his biggest mistake. Being seen tailing the victim out of a drinking hole and across three busy city blocks had done him no favours, either. Shooting his mother's boyfriend couldn't have been more obvious in the circumstances, said others. Still though, the presence of a firearm that distinctive, that jealously guarded and that well-known was fatal to any presumption of innocence in the public mind. Ballistic testing confirmed what everyone already knew. Gunshot residue testing nailed the coffin firmly shut. It was an open and shut case and so the public advokat did the best she could, which is how he had ended up spending the last five years serving in the 6th Battalion, 42nd Regiment of the Kronstaat IV Worker's Defence Force. It was, without question, also how he had ended up in his current predicament; a traitor flanked by giants clad in purple.

 

Maraviglia – Part III.

 

Stepan Maximovich Petrichenko surveyed his battalion, sighed noisily, then told them that they had been double-crossed and would certainly die within days. Of course, there were protestations. It couldn't possibly be true, all was proceeding according to the plan and Kronstaat IV's future would be secured within weeks. Steely determination was all that was required; by the people for the people. Petrichenko patiently laid out everything he knew. There was no denying it; they had been duped. They had been used as pawns in a game they couldn't even suspect existed and they had been sold at a great loss.

 

They were Heretics. The Marzanna Uprising had been successful, with their help.

 

Ryadovoy Komarov gripped his lasgun tightly, shaking ever so slightly, awaiting the next lot of blood-cultists and whatever those ...things... had been. He stole a glance to his right at Zaitsev, who was mumbling verses from the Infantryman's Primer under his breath and again wondered how it had come to this. He had not seen Soshnikov for days. He hoped he had deserted. Poor Soshnikov, he had known. Had tried to warn them and had been dismissed. A movement ahead caught his eye. A flash of red among the piles of rubble, slag and corpses that used to be Kotlin. Before he could react, one of the silent giants despatched the... thing... with a shot to the... well, where its head should have been, the sudden crack of gunfire making him start.

 

He unclenched and waited for the next wave. He wouldn't survive much longer; he knew that. Didn't want to, really. Not now. He couldn't have known. They couldn't have known. A signal chimed down the line. Ladders were placed. If he had to do it all over, he'd shoot that abusive son of a bitch again. No question.

 

A second signal chimed and over they went, into darkness.

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  • 4 weeks later...

Moving swiftly on, then...

 

I've been sick recently so I watched The World at War (a British documentary that I advise everybody should watch in its entirety, twice) through for the millionth time and occupied my time idly googling the Red Army. As one does. Anyhow, I found this picture;

 

27797867_10208765564451534_4363037539194

 

and thought I'd take a stab at it. Starshiy Serzhant Yeryomenko;

 

27751969_10208766260668939_8846825243414

 

27709813_10208767400297429_4703822127725

 

The pic is by Max Alpert and is called 'Combat', or 'KomBat'. It reputedly depicts Battalion Commander Alexei Gordeyovich Yeryomenko, though nobody knows for sure. For game and fluff purposes, I've demoted him to Senior Sergeant.

 

I also found this pic, via History Memes on that there Facebook that they have now;

 

27654990_10208743211492724_1952721344355

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I, Res Ipsa Loquitur, make this oath of moment to submit a completed story about Leonid Aleksandrovich 'Bolshoyestvol' Komarov, a reluctantly renegade planetary defence trooper.

Big Iron

Paradise Lost – Part I.

 

Aleksandr Nikolayevich Komarov marched out of Kotlin to defend the Imperial order he believed passionately in and to liberate his birthplace from Heretics. He fought bravely in numerous actions and was the recipient of several field promotions, rising to KomBat within six months of war breaking out. He died unregarded in the mud; half of his skull blown away by an errant artillery shell fired by his comrades as he and his battalion assaulted a Heretic bunker.

 

The Kommisars called it 'collateral damage'.

 

She read the line again, quite unable to believe that such a thing had been committed to print in the first place. The words didn't swim, didn't change. “The famous man looked at the red cup” they read. She laughed to herself, rested the slate on her rounded stomach and wondered about a society that could venerate such rubbish. She thought of Sanya, miles away fighting for his beliefs and again prayed that the Emperor would see him well. He would be surprised in the change in her since he left; she had written but did not know whether he had received her letters. All was well, said the wire. The Heretics had been pushed back to the outskirts by heavy Imperial shelling and minimal losses had been sustained. The war would be over in weeks. Sanya would return to the factory, they would marry and together they would embark on this new chapter of life.

 

The months passed, and Sanya did not return. A year and Sanya did not return, did not yet know about the boy so far as she knew. Then, a letter. She read 'missing in action, presumed deceased' and wept. Eventually, the Heretics were defeated and their surviving leaders were summarily executed in Kotlin's Main Square. Sanya did not return.

 

Seven years went by and the boy's grandfather said it was time. He lived in a brutal and lawless world and he had to know how to fight or he would be finished before he even got going. She didn't – couldn't – disagree. It was obvious that Kronstaat IV had never really recovered from the Marzanna Uprising, as it became known. Central government had not been able to fully reassert control, crime was rife and you could not rely on the Arbites who were more concerned with their own prestige and power than maintaining order. Reluctantly, she agreed and the boy was given his father's stub gun, a relic of a man who went to war and never came home. The boy was not large and was not well nourished and the pistol hung prominent and ostentatious on his hip.

 

Between the Wars – Part II.

 

Leonid Aleksandrovich Komarov eyed him across the room saw him spit, saw him take a gulp of his zydrate, saw him toss a few creds on the bar and stand up, swaying slightly. He watched him leave, followed him across the square, across the market, down a dark laneway and shot him in the back of the head. He watched him crumple, dropped the pistol to the floor and then faded away into the cold night.

 

It was his fifteenth birthday.

 

The situation on Kronstaat IV did not improve. New heretical blood cults were being uncovered on an almost monthly basis across the planet. Resistance to Imperial rule intensified and was allegedly crushed in joint actions between the pink-robed Arbites and the Defence Force that made lots of noise and caused colossal destruction but which in reality seemed to achieve little.

 

It had been immediately apparent that dropping the pistol at the scene had been his biggest mistake. Being seen tailing the victim out of a drinking hole and across three busy city blocks had done him no favours, either. Shooting his mother's boyfriend couldn't have been more obvious in the circumstances, said others. Still though, the presence of a firearm that distinctive, that jealously guarded and that well-known was fatal to any presumption of innocence in the public mind. Ballistic testing confirmed what everyone already knew. Gunshot residue testing nailed the coffin firmly shut. It was an open and shut case and so the public advokat did the best she could, which is how he had ended up spending the last five years serving in the 6th Battalion, 42nd Regiment of the Kronstaat IV Worker's Defence Force. It was, without question, also how he had ended up in his current predicament; a traitor flanked by giants clad in purple.

 

Maraviglia – Part III.

 

Stepan Maximovich Petrichenko surveyed his battalion, sighed noisily, then told them that they had been double-crossed and would certainly die within days. Of course, there were protestations. It couldn't possibly be true, all was proceeding according to the plan and Kronstaat IV's future would be secured within weeks. Steely determination was all that was required; by the people for the people. Petrichenko patiently laid out everything he knew. There was no denying it; they had been duped. They had been used as pawns in a game they couldn't even suspect existed and they had been sold at a great loss.

 

They were Heretics. The Marzanna Uprising had been successful, with their help.

 

Ryadovoy Komarov gripped his lasgun tightly, shaking ever so slightly, awaiting the next lot of blood-cultists and whatever those ...things... had been. He stole a glance to his right at Zaitsev, who was mumbling verses from the Infantryman's Primer under his breath and again wondered how it had come to this. He had not seen Soshnikov for days. He hoped he had deserted. Poor Soshnikov, he had known. Had tried to warn them and had been dismissed. A movement ahead caught his eye. A flash of red among the piles of rubble, slag and corpses that used to be Kotlin. Before he could react, one of the silent giants despatched the... thing... with a shot to the... well, where its head should have been, the sudden crack of gunfire making him start.

 

He unclenched and waited for the next wave. He wouldn't survive much longer; he knew that. Didn't want to, really. Not now. He couldn't have known. They couldn't have known. A signal chimed down the line. Ladders were placed. If he had to do it all over, he'd shoot that abusive son of a bitch again. No question.

 

A second signal chimed and over they went, into darkness.

Given then that I have received zero response at all to this in either place I've posted it, seems like I should enquire why?

 

Is it bad and should I feel bad? Is it obvious? Confusing? Are you all huge Dan Brown fans? Habs fans? Is it because I've plagiarized myself? Does it fail to engage?

 

Really though, why don't you like it? I don't mean to be combative, I'm not expecting adulation, but if I'm ever to improve I need feedback. Clearly I thought it was, at worst, decent enough for public consumption so clearly my opinions on my own writing are, to the surprise of no-one, worthless.

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Keep up this progress blog! Your Daemonette's paint jobs and your Renegade infantry conversions are excellent. And the Stalin pun was much appreciated.

 

As someonw who has a Renegades force but who wants to add a small squad of 12 Daemonettes to my force someday, your blog is inspiring.

 

What colors do you plan on using on your Renegades infantry?

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Spasibo.

 

I haven't entirely decided on the Renegade paintjob yet, but I'm leaning towards a simple dark grey uniform look 'cause it's easy to do and I'm lazy and I have to paint 80 of them.

 

Also, given that my Renegades become more and more obviously based on a hotchpotch of Imperial Russian/Soviet influences every time I post I'm going to lean into it and eschew ornamentation and puffery. Dark grey is fitting and functional for a Worker's Defence Force, right?

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I can't lie, getting a response boosted my motivation significantly.

 

Part Squad One;

 

27657594_10208791551021182_6526005315027

 

Weapon arms are currently only tacked on so not all of the wrists line up 100% as yet.

 

And I swapped out Sergeant Yeryomenko's legs for a pair that fit the flow of the model and the pic better;

 

27657829_10208791550701174_5167548351566

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I have noticed that using Facebook as an image hoster is a bad call. It seems that once a FB album reaches a certain size photos in it can no longer be linked.

 

Poop.

 

So Facebook is out, Photobucket is out and Instagram is for the terminally facile, so what do we do?

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Not if you link the full picture rather than the resized one. Really, the only limitation is that each image must be under 2MB in order to upload it to the gallery... which is actually not much of a limitation.

 

Anyway, just thought I'd mention it as I switched to using it from the awful Potatobucket and it's worked very well.

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