The Reaper's Hammer Crusade: Upholding the First Born Vow

[Marshal Vespasian]

I really like the way black primaris look.

The Red coils really mash Well With our colour Scheme. Maybe some Red ink for the chest emblem?

[SWORD BROTHER RYAN]

Thank you! Yeah, I'm still thinking about doing the holster in another color, I just don't have a great selection to go from for leathers ATM.  And yes, there is a wash in the golds, but it doesn't seem to show on camera.

 

This is the first test run with a "zenithal" highlight applied with my airbrush. I accidentally went way too overboard with the greys at first and had to glaze back in some black. I hope to get more done in the near future.

[SWORD BROTHER RYAN]

I redid the holster in a more leather look. Actually, my son suggested using a red base, so I went with Khorne Red, washed with Nuln Oil and Agrax Earthshade, then glazed in a fade mix from Rhinox Hide to Baneblade Brown. I think it works. but my cruddy camera doesn't seem to pick the detail out well. It looks a lot better IRL.

 

Edited November 13, 2018 by SWORD BROTHER RYAN

[Bjorn Firewalker]

Well done.

[Honda]

One of the issues with the pic might be that it's a flat surface and the sheen  that  can come from some washes is picking up the light.

 

The next chance you get, try taking a pic on some terrain and see if that helps.

 

Now go do 9 more. :)

[SWORD BROTHER RYAN]

 

Now go do 9 more.

 

Working on it. now that the rest of the models aren't involved in a convoluted and massive game.

[SWORD BROTHER RYAN]

I know what some of you are asking...

 

"Sword Brother, we were promised IK updates! Where are they?"

 

Well, the oversimplified answer is hobby ADD.

 

The more complex answer is that I'm still working with learning the ins-&-outs of using an airbrush. Yes, I have watched probably WAY too many videos on theory and technique, but I'm learning to put it in to practice now. Knowing a thing and actually doing that thing are always two very different things. I don't want to completely screw up and have to start over because I rushed in and did something wrong. That's why I switched gears and started that Primarus model. I used that to begin practice with the airbrush by layering on highlights, and had to spend a lot of time cleaning up my work. As I get better and more confident, I'll get back to the IK. For the moment, however, they are on the back burner while my skills improve.

[SWORD BROTHER RYAN]

Okay, picked up a new "rule" for white painting.

 

We all have the same problem with white paint. It seems that almost no matter what you do or which brand you use, it tends to go 'chalky' after drying. I tried to use  a 'Ard Coat AFTER laying it down, I tried gloss varnish BEFORE laying it down, but the chalk seems to remain. While I've gotten it passable, it still doesn't seem to look good.

 

Enter Vince Venturella. He has a whole series of "Hobby Cheating" videos on youtube that I have been slowly working my way through, and came across his method for bright white that actually seems to make sense (specifically Hobby Cheating #154: How to paint smooth white). In this video, he suggests to mix a gloss medium with the white paint on the pallet before applying to the model, as well as using white ink and other additives to properly thin the paint. It looked pretty good IMO. Worth a look, and I'll be trying this technique in the near future as I have 9 more Hellblasters to complete.

 

Just thought I'd share. 

[SWORD BROTHER RYAN]

+++ FLUFF PRELUDE +++

 

It is said that an Astartes  knows no fear. Marshal Eidrich knew the truth, and it was not what the humans thought. At their core, an Astartes is human, to an extent. A long lifetime of training, indoctrination, and constant war has minimized the feeling of fear to the point that it does not affect the post human Marine for long. It cannot even be quantified as a moment that fear will be felt. Perhaps a fraction of a moment, infinitesimal to a standard human, and gone before any but the most astute Chaplain would know of it.

 

Marshal Eidrich, for all the gifts bestowed on him by his Chapter and the Imperium, still felt fear on occasion. These moments of shivering dread, that instant of ice in the blood, passed through him and away from him almost instantly, leaving behind a pure hatred for the offending cause. He would then use this resulting hatred to destroy utterly the cause of that hateful moment. Such had been the way for not only himself, but he believed every true Adeptus Astartes ever created in service to the Imperium. There could be no courage without fear in some form. Courage was the act of doing one's duty in spite of fear, not the absence of it entirely. 

 

As he would meditate on the events of that day in the future, he would reflect on this belief, this innate knowledge of himself, and come to realize that on that day, he did feel fear for that small moment. He had known this feeling on several occasions, though he would never put voice to such. It had always been such a fleeting fraction of time in the past, and then swiftly overcome, leaving behind his hatred and desire to rid the galaxy of the offending cause in each instance before that day.

 

This time was different, and he was loathe to admit to even himself that the events of that day had caused that destructive feeling to linger even for that fraction of a heartbeat longer than any time in his life. As always, though, it had passed, and left behind such a pure hatred that it had spurred him onwards in such a way that he had never before been forced to.

 

No, he was forced to admit that it was not just the usual hatred that replaced that tickle of fear. Hatred was too small a description to adequately convey what he felt then and still felt with such vehemence that it made meditation difficult to perform.

 

As with no other time in his long career, he did not feel just hatred. This was absolute RAGE, and he knew it would linger until the source of it was annihilated from the face of the galaxy forever.

[Bjorn Firewalker]

As with no other time in his long career, he did not feel just hatred. This was absolute RAGE, and he knew it would linger until the source of it was annihilated from the face of the galaxy forever.

I pity the fool who arouses the battle-brother's rage in such a manner. Which is it, anyways? Tyranid, Necron, or something of Chaos?

[Honda]

There could be no courage without fear in some form. Courage was the act of doing one's duty in spite of fear, not the absence of it entirely.

 

 

I firmly believe this truth.

 

Nature abhors a vacuum and one thing cannot exist without the opposite value.

 

I really like how you defined this aspect of the Astates psyche. Since I don't believe Astartes are automatons, and we know they feel pain, there must be something else that drives them to the heights of courage as chronicled.

 

You have provided a very reasonable explanation of this phenomena, well done!

Edited December 27, 2018 by Honda

[Othniel's Blade]

Going through the Rubicon?

[SWORD BROTHER RYAN]

It is a prelude to the next piece of fluff I have planned. I'd have written it by now, but IRL has thrown me a curve I did not see coming, and it's still in the planning phase.

 

Thank you all for your kind praise. Yes, there can be no one emotion in the absence of it's conflicting counterpart. I firmly believe that it is with training and discipline that a warrior overcomes that which would subdue him (or her, IRL) in the thick of war. I know this from personal experience in combat.

 

I won't give the next installment away yet. Please be patient as I get it done.

[Honda]

A soup well simmered is a masterpiece.

 

Everything else is flavored hot water.

 

Take your time to do it right.

[SWORD BROTHER RYAN]

After much consideration, I have decided that once I work through my backlog of Templars, I will be taking a bit of a break from them. I have hit the dreaded "Burn-out" stage just continuously painting black over and over again. This is NOT TO SAY that I am done with them in the least, but a different direction is needed for a while. What you can still expect to see sometime in the near future is

 

-5 Tabbarded Assault Termies

-A new standard Apothecary

-10 Intercessors

-9 more Hellblasters (to match the one I did a little while ago)

-10 Reivers

- Repulsor (With and without modified hurricane bolters, because YES, IT MUST BE DONE!)

-Paint up my Marshal, Ancient

-Drop Pod (because I didn't have one yet)

-Finish painting my Hawkshroud Knight and Armigers

 

After that, I'll be done for a while. However, that plan is subject to change anytime if something shiny catches my eye.

Edited December 31, 2018 by SWORD BROTHER RYAN

[Honda]

Actually, I think it's a good idea to have side projects that you can work on from time to time.

 

Painting one color, painting one particular way not only can get tiresome, but can possibly limit you from a hobby perspective.

 

One of the things I like to do is find a small topic (e.g. Inquisitorial warband/Allies detachment) that could support your crusade. I've ordered a couple of Artel W figs for just such an Inquisitorial presence...plus they can be fun.

 

Cheers,

[SWORD BROTHER RYAN]

+++ FLUFF ALERT+++

PT 1

 

The mission had begun.

 

Black Templar Stormhawks, Stormravens and Stormtalons alongside their cousin Chapter's larger Ultramarine Thunderhawks had pounded the areas near to the Governor's bunker as well as the interplanetary vox tower relentlessly for three full solar days. Anti-air fire became more intense the closer they got to the objectives, creating an almost shroud of flak and debris that could not be rooted out in the air. Both forces, attacking simultaneously, would have to cover the last few kilometers along the ground without air support. This did not sit well with either Eidrich or Victorian.

 

Ultramarine scouting parties had brought back extensive details on the ground forces at both locations. The vox tower was a heavily fortified position, with PDF armor swarming the inner walls as well as outer, and heavy weapons emplacements scattered all the way around the site. It had been determined that a combined force consisting of a small contingent of close combat Templars and Ultramarine ranged weaponry would be needed to break the defenders. Thunderhwaks would get them as close as possible, then move up through the hive streets to seize their objective.

 

The governor's bunker was an altogether different engagement. The city buildings pressed in close, and the enemy had been assaulting the hardened structure for weeks on end. The streets were barely large enough to accommodate the passage of a Land Raider, and fighting would be close. The bunker complex was holding, but could not withstand for much longer.

 

Marshal Eidrich felt his actions being forced on him. They needed to hit both places at once with overwhelming force, which would leave their foothold on the spire virtually undefended outside the small contingent of loyal PDF they had managed to make contact with. Captain Victorian had plotted so many theoreticals and practicals that his Templar counterparts head nearly swam with information overload. Whichever force achieved their objective first would send reinforcement to the other in order to break the back of the resistance.

 

The Black Templars were covering the last kilometer of ground toward their objective. Tank fire could be heard in the distance even over the roar of the armor engines of his convoy. The PDF were shelling the bunker hard, trying to break through and assassinate the governor.

 

They were running out of time.

 

+++

 

The Vindicare assassin knelt down in the shadow of his high perch. He had yet to locate his quarry, the PDF commander. He scanned the faces of the assaulting force at the bunker, patiently searching for his target. He reasoned that he would want to be here to kill the governor personally should the bunker be breached.

 

Massive explosions bracketed the loyalist defenders position, the sound dulled to a tiny roar by his spy mask, but allowing other sound to remain crystal clear. He could hear an armored convoy approaching from the west, and knew that the Astartes assault would begin shortly.

 

The Inquisitor was not wrong, he thought. If this attack had begun, then the other force was also underway at the vox tower.

 

This could be good, he allowed himself a moment's hope, It may just flush him out.

[SWORD BROTHER RYAN]

+++FLUFF ALERT+++

Pt 2

 

I am the Reaper's hammer.

 

Marshal Eidrich was referred to as 'The Hammer' not for his choice of weapons, but more for his use of overwhelming force even in the smallest of engagements. A force large enough to take a world would be used on a city. A force to take a system used to take a world. The other Marshals jibed at him for these tactics initially, saying that he would use a thunder hammer to drive a nail. He let them have their laugh, but none could deny he always completed his crusades.

 

Shock was his true weapon. When the enemies of the Imperium saw the forces of his crusade arrayed against them, morale was lost. The enemy would be broken down before the first shots were fired. Of course, he loved the challenge of combat, and drove his forces relentlessly into the foe. Most did not even have the ability to flee from them before they were crushed.

 

While on crusade in a system near the Eye of Terror in 824.M41, he had come to the aid of a small strike force of Imperial Reapers Astartes embattled against heretics on a small world on the western fringe of the warp storm. His wrath against his dark kin was depthless, and he dispatched nearly his whole crusade planetside while the enemy ships were ruthlessly atomized by his battleship, then known as the Crusader's Wrath, and the rest of his small flotilla. Of the 100 Imperial Reapers reported to be on the planet, by the time Eidrich broke through to them, only 30 remained. Together, they had fought off the rest of the dark armored heretics by smashing small elements of them as they were located with a force many times the size that probably would have been used by any other commander.

 

By the time of the final engagement, there were fewer than 75 heretics left to make a last stand against his almost untouched force of over 300 Black Templars and 29 Imperial Reapers howling for revenge. When the war ended, 279 Black Templars and 24 Imperial Reapers stood over the broken remains of their fractured images. The Sergeant-in-Command tore his battle standard, a winged reaper, from his fallen Bearer, gently removed the scythe from its bony grip, placed a ceremonial hammer in it's place, and presented it in gratitude to Marshal Eidrich.

 

Rather than replace his own standard with a gift that would one day only be hung in the Halls of Honor onboard the Eternal Crusader, he had his artisans place the large reaper at the top of his banner pole. When next he graced the sacred decks of the Eternal Crusader, he was greeted by the other marshals with the moniker Reaper's Hammer, only now with respect rather than mockery.

 

All this flashed through his mind as Eidrich dismounted his Razorback under heavy fire at the front of the fortifications of the traitor PDF. His combi-plasma spit both bolts and arcs of super heated gasses into the lines of the enemy. His bikers and Land Speeder had done their jobs well, driving headlong into the fray and sowing confusion and death in advance of the armored assault just behind them. Squads were bounding up buildings and eliminating overwatch with speed and fury. Somewhere, a chug of fire was scarcely heard through enhanced audio pick-up, dropping key enemy elements with each shot. The Land Raider opened up with everything it had on any enemy that dared to stray into it's path. The Dreadnoughts plowed into the enemy armor and began to tear them apart piece by piece.

 

I am The Reaper's Hammer, he thought to himself again as he saw the direction this battle would inevitably go.

 

He looked to the ragged defenders of the bunker. The dead were in heaps on their emplacements, used as cover for those that still drew breath and could fight. Every man and woman had some form of injury. All were barked at by a grizzled Commander with a rangy beard, ill fitting helmet and worn fatigues. The Commander ordered his troops effectively, holding the worst of the invading forces at bay with disciplined fire lanes and seeming to flow with the battle as it unfolded. Even the arrival of the Templars did not stall his orders even for a moment. While most mortals would be in awe of the hulking war giants that suddenly appeared in their midst, he continued the fight, directing his waning forces into positions to back up the Astartes assault.

 

'Marshal! Squad six Reporting!' a voice broke over the vox.

 

'Report!' Eidrich nearly yelled as he let lose with a withering barrage against the onrushing traitors.

 

'Enemy psyker is on the field! Left rear and closing! 11 Astartes strong!'

 

Marshal Eidrich nearly allowed himself to smile. He almost couldn't believe the rouge Ultramarine witch would try again for his forces.

 

However, due to one of several theoreticals posited by Captain Victorian, there was a contingency plan in place for this as well.

 

'Spire 1, this is Reaper Actual,' Eidrich voxed to his waiting Terminators, 'Commence teleport sequence on 31.046 by 22.292 by 3,048. Confirm!'

 

'Order confirmed Marshal.' came the terse, static laden reply.

Edited January 14, 2019 by SWORD BROTHER RYAN

[Bjorn Firewalker]

The fluff sets up a new battle in an acceptable manner. Are the "Imperial Reapers" your original Dark Angels descendant, as their battle standard suggests? (I couldn't find them on a Google search.)

[SWORD BROTHER RYAN]

The fluff sets up a new battle in an acceptable manner. Are the "Imperial Reapers" your original Dark Angels descendant, as their battle standard suggests? (I couldn't find them on a Google search.)

Entirely made up. I needed to justify my overly large banner.

[SWORD BROTHER RYAN]

I really do appreciate the feedback I've gotten on the fluff I've written thus far. I have been using it as a sounding board for what works and what doesn't, and have been astonished by the positive remarks.

 

I'm planning a few new pieces. One will be detailing the ordeals of a character I've written about already as he is chosen as an aspirant and taken through to induction as a Neophyte. The other will be a more in depth piece in the events I've been covering in this Crusade from multiple POV's as the story progresses.

 

As such, these new pieces will probably have to move to the fan fiction/fluff area of this site. I will post links to the BT thread here so anyone interested can follow along. It will be some time before these works will post, but I hope that those of you that have enjoyed what I've done here will take a peek at them as they post.

 

Once again, thank you for the support.

[SWORD BROTHER RYAN]

+++ FLUFF ALERT +++

Pt 3

 

Sword brother Mikhael stood on the makeshift teleportation pad as the esoteric machinery cycled up to a near screaming pitch. Sword Brother Deltan was in the next bay, ready with his own Terminators in another ancient teleporter. Both were the most uncommon site-to-site planetary use teleporters, and they had been gifted their usage by Captain Victorian for this engagement. A part of Mikhael had hoped that they would not need to use this ancient equipment in this engagement. Ship-to-surface teleportation was tricky enough, but much more reliable with their larger power systems and nearly pinpoint accuracy. He had only used a site-to-site teleporter such as this once before, almost 130 years past, and three of his squad had translated inside a wall, dead on arrival.

 

The odd thing was, unlike that system he had utilized so long ago, this system was well maintained, almost to the point of new. Perhaps the Ultramarines had simply taken much better care of the pair. He had no idea, and no time to consider it further as it's energies crackled across him and his own Terminator squad. He closed his eyes just as the screaming pitch turned into a blinding wash of non-light and tore his squad through reality.

 

When he opened them again, he was in a war zone. The disorientation passed quickly, his hearts beating faster as the din of battle came over him like a breaking wave of sound. He shrugged the shoulders of his massive plate briefly to shake off the vestiges of the translation, then glared his hatred across the field at his enemy. 

 

Before him, a rough squad of Ultramarines stood in stunned silence. Mikhael's squad had teleported directly behind the target. Deltan's own Terminator elite stood to their front, boxing in the traitors with a large building to each side. It appeared that both squads had arrived whole, and he silently thanked the Throne. He refused to believe it was the Ultramarines equipment that had gotten them all safely to their target points.

 

A voice in his ear over the vox, Marshal Eidrich's most likely, was ordering both squads to engage before the shock of their arrival wore off. The order did not need to be voiced. Storm Bolters autoloaded rounds with well maintained clacks, his own heavy gunner cycling up the barrels of his assault cannon. The hail of bolter rounds flew with massive concussions at once, every weapon pouring their hate into the traitor Astartes before them.

 

This is for my brothers, Mikhael thought as the traitors in blue took rounds from two different directions at once.

 

As with their own brothers, whom had fallen without the ability to mount a defense against the opening of their treason, these fools never got the chance to return any sort of disciplined fire on them. The ten were cut down to three, and the witch with them was hit so many times that he fell to a knee.

 

'Charge them now!' Mikhael roared, his power sword popping electric sparks as it powered up.

 

Deltan and his terminators held their position in overwatch as Mikhael and his squad charged the depleted enemy line. Bolter rounds spanked off their armor as the closed in with the enemy. They were screaming their hatred at the foe, their fury finally unleashed. Power fists came up and began to swing outward, crackling energy promising swifter ends to these traitors than they most likely deserved.

 

Mikhael's ten clashed with the three remaining enemy marines and the slowly recovering Librarian. As the fists flew, punching into the enemy, Mikhael sought out the witch psyker. It was difficult not to join the fray with his brothers against the foe right away, but he wanted the witch for himself.

 

The Librarian turned to him as he came stomping in for the kill. To Mikhael's relief, he did not employ his mind powers against him as he clashed his sword against the enemy's weapon. The storm of bolt rounds had done the job of weakening both war plate and wearer, leaving the psyker physically weaker and severely disadvantaged against the terminator suit's added strength. He threw a vicious flat bladed swing into the witches head, shattering the already damaged helmet and revealing the warped and bleeding countenance beneath. He found it unsettling that the psyker was grinning through blood speckled teeth.

 

'Release me, Templar,' the librarian whispered. He extended his arms and sank to his knees.

 

No words, Mikhael thought as he brought his sword down for the killing stroke at the psykers exposed head. He would not banter with this enemy. He would not give the traitor to his cousin chapter the satisfaction of conversation. Time seemed to slow as the strike landed. He felt the satisfaction of the blade cleaving down on top of the enemy's skull, splitting it down the middle.

 

What gave him pause and made him pull the strike from cleaving the marine completely in two was the sight of dark light pouring from the wound instead of blood and brain matter. It was like looking directly into the warp before a jump translation. His innards twisted and his eyes rebelled against what he was seeing come from the dying enemy on his knees before him. He yanked back on his sword, but it was already too late.

 

His terminators had closed in, having easily dispatched the remaining traitors and rounding on the larger threat. They turned away from the non-light almost in unison as it grew with terrible malice and threat. The air turned both cold and hot at the same time as unknown energies built upon themselves. They had all killed psykers before, cleansing the galaxy of the witch and daemon alike throughout their long years of service. Mikhael had only ever seen something like this once before, and tried to pull back from the psyker just as the dead light reached a critical mass and exploded outward.

 

The librarian was laughing the whole time.

 

+++

 

Ivan Rectule saw the flash in his peripheral vision. He knew the Templar terminators were assaulting the wayward Ultramarine librarian and had turned his attention back to the assault on the bunker complex, still searching for his target. The PDF commander had not shown himself yet, and he was losing hope that he would. He cursed himself for listening to the Inquisitor and coming to this engagement. He knew he should have tried to follow the scant sightings of the commander elsewhere.

 

The flash broke his self recriminating thoughts. From his perch, he turned his sights on the terminator engagement to find that the librarian had twisted and contorted his form. The targeting reticle had a difficult time locking on to the psyker. He scanned the terminators instead with his sight, seeing them all blown back from the epicenter that was the librarian, serious damage rending and twisting the thick plate of their armor as they were scattered away from a concussive explosion. The second squad reeled, taking a knee and turning away to shield themselves from the blast.

 

He wanted to be sick from what he saw. The librarian twisted and grew, sluffing off the battle plate as if it were a shell that could no longer contain him. The psyker grew in size and mass, skin turning a sickly red as it twisted in impossible ways. Massive horns grew from the side of his head, and huge black wings erupted from his back, reminding him of a lizards skin stretched out into a canvas.

 

The librarian could not be classified as humanoid any longer. It could not be classified by sex either. It was a walking nightmare made flesh and bone with a massive axe in one hand and a large flail in the other, breathing fire as it exhaled.

 

He could not get a solid lock on the new target with his weapon and did the one thing he had been vigorously trained never to do. He aimed in the general direction of the warp beast and fired.

Edited March 6, 2019 by SWORD BROTHER RYAN

[SWORD BROTHER RYAN]

+++ FLUFF ALERT +++

Pt 4

 

Marshal Eidrich's worn armor servos were practically squealing in overworked abuse as he sprinted to the Land Raider's side hatch. He could see the view from Deltan's imager in the corner of his eye on his internal helmet display, but he had to see this abomination with his own eyes. He slammed against the unyielding armor willingly to stall his speed once he reached the side hatch with the stepped ladder, grabbing at the rungs to stop him from rebounding away. He leapt from the ground and quickly ascended the vehicle's side and stood on top, throwing his gaze toward his planned counter assault.

 

On one hand, the counter assault was a complete success. Every traitor marine unaccounted for had now been slain to a man, and the Librarian was technically eliminated. It was what stood in the witches place that gave him pause. He stood in stunned silence, seeing with his own eyes what was only a fuzzy form over the pict feed from Deltan's helmet view.

 

Ice froze in his veins in that moment, and he knew the sensation. The cold dread that gripped his heart and froze him in place, rendering him speechless and almost unable to think. Ten Sword Brother terminators were scattered on the ground around what had become a beast of pure nightmare. All were injured in some way, lying prone and practically helpless before a being of pure muscle, rage, and ruthless aggression. It was massive, yellow flames coruscating from it's mouth in seething breaths that even he knew deep in his soul it did not absolutely need to survive. Beaten brass-like armor plates covered the entity from chest to thigh. A massive flail swung about, seemingly of it's own volition, caked in old blood, yet still gleaming in the weak polluted daylight that made it's way into the lower hive. A massive, one handed axe of blackened yet gleaming metal sat upon a haft made from what appeared to be human skulls stacked atop one another in it's opposite hand. Huge leathery wings extended from the beasts back, opening with the slowness of a stretch. It threw both heavily muscled arms out to it's side, rocked it's head back on it's bull-like neck, and roared at the sky, a stream of hateful fire erupting from it's mouth in a steady jet.

 

All combat seemed to stop with the sound of the roar. His own Astartes snapped their collective heads toward the direction the sound came from, the unhelmed showing signs of stupefied confusion. The traitorous PDF and their heretical leaders all stood in stunned silence, a look of rapturous glee on every exposed face.

 

It was a warp beast, a daemon from the collective nightmares of all races in the galaxy. A leader of armies of hate and war and blood. 

 

Eidrich processed all of this in a heartbeat, and knew the feeling he had in his chest for what it was. He felt the grip of absolute fear, and it clung to him like no other time he could recall in his life. It was trying to take root in him and freeze his blood, and would not pass as he had trained himself to over the long course of his lifetime.

 

A chug of fire rang out from somewhere above him, and finally snapped him from his deadlocked dread. The icy fingers finally lost their grip and flew away in a wash of anger and hatred unlike any he had known before. He hated this enemy more than anything else he had encountered in his life. He dismissed the combat that had been raging around the bunker. He dismissed his own mission to get to and protect the governor. In the red rage of his thoughts, his only focus was on killing this beast newly arisen from damnation.

 

Before he could give the order to engage the beast, it flapped it's leathery wings and took to the air. As it ascended, it turned to gaze at Eidrich, appearing to mock the Marshal. His own hate boiled over in a scream of rage that bellowed out from his lungs at his moment of impotency as the daemon quickly ascended and flew well out of weapons fire range with but a few flaps of it's wings. It disappeared over a hab block, roaring hate as it went.

 

The traitor PDF turned and began to run in any direction that they could find to escape. The moment of stunned stillness broke like glass and his Templars opened fire once again at the now retreating enemy. Many of them died in the process, with only the heavy armored transports and tanks able to flee the engagement in practically one piece. Venerable Brother Cread chased after the tank he had been assaulting, able to score one more hit against the turret, tearing it from the main body of the tank before it too retreated away faster than he could follow. Sword Brother Tarin and his squad lowered their weapons as all attackers fell well out of range of their pistols. His Predator tanks fired one final volley at the backs of the retreating enemy, but only managed slight damage on one APC. The bike squad broke off pursuit at their predetermined halting point and turned back to secure the approaches to the bunker.

 

The battlefield fell silent. Where only minutes before a pitched battle was being fought over the bunker to Eidrich's back, now only the rattle of engines and falling debris could be heard. There were no cheers of victory, only clipped orders given to secure the bunker and surrounding area. Distantly, he heard squad three over the vox confirming that the anti-air defense network in the vicinity had been disabled. He clicked his confirmation to them, not yet trusting his voice after what he had just witnessed.

 

'Marshal,' he dimly heard Chaplain Rusius vox to him from below on a private channel, 'The men cannot see you like this!'

 

He tried to let the rage he felt die down as he turned away from the scene of the disaster that was the counter attack. Mikhael and his Sword Brethren were already picking themselves up from the ground, damaged and injured, but all still blessedly alive. The fire in his heart dimmed, but would not die completely.

 

'Report!' he voxed on the open channel to his Templars.

 

'Against the Dawn reporting,' he heard Tarin's voice in his ear, 'Bunker complex secure and contact with Governor Haldread established.'

 

All squads reported in one at a time, relaying positions and status. It appeared as though the engagement was an overwhelming victory, but there was no elation from any of them in their voices. They all knew what had just happened, and it stole the thrill from their success.

 

Eidrich leapt down from the Land Raider, landing beside Rusius in a small crouch on snarling servos. He straightened and removed his helm, looking into the glassy pits of his chaplain's skull mask.

 

'I would urge you to tamp down on that fire, Marshal,' Rusius advised, voice pitched purposely low enough not to carry beyond the two of them, 'You, of all people, know the damage unfocused hate causes.'

 

'Tarin!' Eidric bellowed, never breaking his gaze with his Chaplain, 'Get the Governor to my position NOW!'

 

His breath seethed through gritted teeth while he waited, and he fought to control his breathing. The Chaplain had every right to admonish him for his unchecked rage, and he knew that he needed to get a grip upon it before he addressed the mortal. He screwed his eyes shut and finally turned away from Rusius, forcing his hearts to slow and his breathing to ease. His jaw relaxed, but the rage in his chest was still a fire that would not die. He decided that even if he had to simply appear calm enough to deal with the Governor, then that would have to be good enough for the moment. He would meditate on this later, and find his true center once again.

 

Tarin and his squad arrived with the commander of the bunker resistance in tow, slowing to accommodate for the elder mortal's size and speed almost as an honor escort. It took a moment to reconcile the man he had only seen archival images of with the man being brought before him. The shape of the eyes were the only similarity between the two he could easily identify, and even that took a moment to come to clarity. The man he had assumed to be simply the bunker commander was in fact the Governor himself.

 

He stopped three paces away from the pair of Astartes battle commanders and stiffly lowered himself to one knee in supplication.

 

'Marshal Eidrich,' he began as he lowered his head to his chest, 'You cannot know how glad I am to finally meet you in person.'

 

'Rise, Governor Halderad,' Eidrich spoke in a calmer voice than he truly felt, 'You need not kneel to me or my men. Every warrior on this planet is required on their feet. You and your men appear to have fought bravely enough, though I confess, I did not have you pegged as a battlefield commander.'

 

The governor rose with a barely audible grunt of effort and looked up into the face of his savior. 'Yes, a lingering trait from my youth. My family sent me into the Militarum when I became of age. I fought for ten years in the dust of Agian Prime against the Tau before we were relieved by the Cadian 3021st back in 958. I admit to being a bit out of practice and much out of shape, but I have been given ample time to rediscover the old warrior traits I learned from long ago lately.'

 

'Indeed.' The Marshal replied, doing his best not to sound unimpressed with the tale of the governor's military service. 'You know why we are here.'

 

It was not a question, but the governor replied anyway. 'Yes, we all need to retort to that transmission immediately. Has the broadcast tower been retaken yet?'

 

Marshal Eidrich actually smiled briefly at the acumen of the governor at that moment. 'It is being retaken as we speak. We need to go in support immediately.'

 

He turned to Tarin then, 'Order in a Strom Raven immediately. We will be relocating to the tower at once.'

 

Tarin turned away and began to call for the aircraft through his helmet vox, only the click of sending and receiving traffic audible. Eidrich summoned Cread to their gathering with a wave of his arm, then turned back to the governor.

 

'You're coming with us.' he ordered, letting slip a small amount of his anger.

[SWORD BROTHER RYAN]

Just took a look at the official contents of the Shadowspear box set. This WILL be in my future soon!

[SWORD BROTHER RYAN]

I've been slowly working my way through the Shadowspear set. Although these are all single pose models, they're loaded with an insane amount of detail. I'll be experimenting with their usage soon, but I'll be saving the painting for another time... ETL maybe?