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Corruption of Purpose: The Alpha Legion

Alpha Legion 40K Heretic Astartes

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#1
Iron Father Ferrum

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This is more than just a Diu Ad Belli WIP Thread; this is going to be the home of my Alpha Legion army.  More than just a painting thread, each squad, each entry, will be accompanied by the fluff for the unit and together it is my hope that eventually I'll finish the entirety of my warband and have a fully painted and fully fluffed army as a result.  At first, of course, I'm going to focus on the painting event units but as soon as they are complete, I'll start filling in the rest of the gaps.  So let us begin.

 

 

 

 

 

+++PLEASE ENTER VERIFICATION CODE+++

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ACCESS GRANTED.

FILE BEGINS:

 

The Heretic Astartes warband known as "Omicron Company" has operated at large within the Imperium under the same identifying signature since at least the Scouring, and some records indicate its provenance may extend as far back as the Great Crusade.  This band's insignia is a simple green band on a blue field.  Some variations have appeared, the most common being that of a serpent eating its tail, which has often resulted in the miss-identification of the band as belonging to the XV Legionnes Astartes, whose members quite often display such insignia in gold on blue.  However, the rest of the band's iconography -- including variations of snakes and draconic beasts, most prominently the three-headed hydra -- soundly signals the band's loyalty to the XX Legionnes Astartes, commonly known as the Alpha Legion.

 

The spare few Crusade-era records that reference the Alpha Legion usually make no mention of specific companies or commanders, as that particular Legion was well known for the veil of secrecy that they cast over almost every action they took.  However, two such documents provide some collaboration as to the provenance of Omicron Company.  The first is an after-action report filed by the 112th Atrean Rifles Regiment regarding the compliance action on Yeverin IV stating that the regimental commander met with and was aided during the campaign by an Alpha Legion element dubbed "Force 15" and commanded by one Captain Occam Pytheon.  This is collaborated by an astrotelepathic record gleaned from a Mechanicus archive on Mars itself stating that the 15th Company, XX Legion, commanding officer Captain Occam, conducted a re-supply mission at the forge of Lukas Chrom (a recorded heretic) less than six months sidereal before the outbreak of the Horus Heresy in the Isstvan System, and that the vessel that took on the war materiel from Chrom's forge was the Alpha Legion ship Omicron.  Omicron being the fifteenth letter of the Old Hellenic alphabet makes the connection clear, if perhaps more subtle than the casual observer would realize.

 

While the strength and disposition of this warband since the Heresy obviously remains unknown, they have been linked to numerous acts of sabotage and espionage within the Imperium during the ensuing millennia, as well as several open assaults on Imperial worlds and other assets. Vigorous research and comparison of vox, tri-vid, and pict captures of various Heretic Astartes attacks has allowed the Inquisition to identify with 90% accuracy that many of this band's personnel also conducts attacks under false colors; the most commonly impersonated force is the VIII Legionnes Astartes, although some elements are known to also disguise themselves as Imperial Space Marines in order to gain access to Imperial (and in particular, Inquisitorial) facilities (ref: Holding Facility TIB322-81).

 

As an element of the Alpha Legion, Omicron Company conforms to the broad range of tactics traditionally associated with that force, to include a combination of covert intelligence gathering, subversion/replacement of Imperial officials, forward infiltration of combat elements, and teleport attack.  If Omicron elements are encountered, or suspected to have been encountered, in the field, display extreme caution.  Recommended course of action is to withdraw from current operations and summon multiple redundant militant forces in order to ensure that an entire conventional force has not been compromised before committing to action.

 

Known and suspected Omicron Company actions can be further researched in the following files:

- ref: Holding Facility TIB322-81

- ref: Fall of Watch Station Urvein

- ref: Siege of Ghorstangrad

- ref: Tiburon Campaign

- ref: Colloredo Titan Wars

 

 

+++END FILE/NOTHING FOLLOWS+++


Edited by Iron Father Ferrum, 30 August 2017 - 01:33 AM.

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#2
Iron Father Ferrum

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Sergeant Ophor racked the slide on his bolter as he and his brothers stepped out of the drop pod.  The assault craft had deposited them on the rooftop of one of the Mechanicum forges -- or at least, what was left of it -- which was exactly where they needed to be.  "Ares!" he called.  "On me!"  The four members of Ares Annihilation Squad finished pulling their weapons from the racks on the inside of the pod and hustled to his side.

 

From atop the ruined forge building, they could see the engine war raging up and down the avenues of the forge world Colloredo.  Titans, both corrupted and pure, hammered at each other.  What had started as an uprising by the Mechanicus' slaves had spread thanks to the scrap code that Optimus had inserted into Colloredo's noospheric databases, converting tech priests quite unwilingly to the rebel cause.  Then the Legio Serpentes had arrived and the insurrection had become an invasion.  Yet the loyalist dogs were not giving us as easily as predicted.  Their resistance despite the hopelessness of their situation was impressive.  More direct matters had to be taken, and so Omicron had to step from the shadows to ensure that this particular forge world fell.

 

Ophor's squadmates joined him at the edge of the roof, looking down at a Legio Castigatum Reaver that was holding an intersection, against all odds, against a pair of Serpentes' Warhounds and at least a brigade of traitor skitarii.  The Reaver's void shields flashed and flared as energy beams and macro-warheads scattered explosions across the ferrocrete structures the war-engine was using for cover.  Its own carapace missile launcher returned fire, blasting into the massed ranks of skitarii.  Bodies, the size of mere ants from Ophor's vantage, were launched into the air from the force of the detonations while those at the heart of the point of impact were incinerated.

 

Ophor pointed down at the Reaver, its thrust-forward cockpit less than half a kilometer away.  "Full beam, together.  On my mark."  The rest of Ares Squad aimed their weapons, fingers poised on triggers.  "Three, two, one, mark."  Four laser beams, tinged a virulent purple and crackling with unrestrained power, lanced from the long-barreled cannons they carried on their shoulders.  The coruscating beams spat from apertures fashioned in the shape of monstrous jaws and gargoyle faces and traced four paths from the rooftop to the titan's head.  Its voids squealed in protest, and then Ophor felt the percussive pop as the generators powering them failed.  "Again!" he ordered and once more, the four lascannons screamed in anger.  Once more, all four beams speared into the titan, but this time, they did not splash harmlessly against its shields.  This time, they cut deeply into the carapace, slashing into the roof of the command compartment.  The Reaver staggered, and not merely in surprise; it listed, as if the steady hands on its motive controls had been torn away.  One of the las-beams must have killed the moderati-pilot.  The rest of the crew recovered, but not in time.  The pair of renegade Warhounds had taken advantage and sprinted forward, their own gun-pods spitting death and destruction.  It took a few moments more, but the loyalist titan was unshielded and its command crew shaken by the unexpected assault from above.  Its death was assured.

 

Peering down into the maze-like vista of streets, Ophor identified their next target.  "Give me a count until recharge.  We're going to do that again."

 

 

Ares Annihilation Squad is the second of my Havoc Squad, equipped with four lascannons.  I had two of the old metal Havoc lascannons and made use of both, but had to pilfer a pair of Devastator guns to make up the short fall.  Fortunately, they are compatible with Chaos Marine bits, so with the proper paint job and a few small Chaos bits tacked on, they look different but not entirely out of place.  It certainly helps to add to the somewhat ramshackle, hand-me-down feel of equipment that was hammered home in ADB's Night Lord Trilogy, at least.

 

My first vow for Diu Ad Belli, Ares Annihilation Squad

 

Before:

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WIP

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#3
Quixus

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Love the muzzle ornaments on the lascannons. Did you have leftovers from your vehicles, or did you cast them yourself?



#4
Vairocanum

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Looking good! Nice to see some Alpha Legion in post heresy colors, looking forward to seeing more!


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#5
Iron Father Ferrum

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Love the muzzle ornaments on the lascannons. Did you have leftovers from your vehicles, or did you cast them yourself?

 

Those were leftovers I had from a spare Chaos tank sprue a friend had given me over a decade ago.  I'm glad I had them, they do look good on the loyalist lascannons.  Someday I'll post my other Havoc squad (already painted) because I had to do something similar with loyalist heavy bolters, too.  Well, I didn't have to, but the Chaos heavy bolters are. . . a little underwhelming in the visual department.

 

 

Looking good! Nice to see some Alpha Legion in post heresy colors, looking forward to seeing more!

 

Thanks!  It was my first army back in 3rd Edition.  I was a crap painter then as you might imagine, so I've stripped them all down to bare metal and plastic and I'm repainting them.  I like how they're turning out so far!


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#6
Iron Father Ferrum

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And completion, with a few close-ups.  And yes, I know I missed the mold line on the Champ's helmet.  You don't have to remind me.

 

 

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Next up: Arkos the Faithless!


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#7
Ashenwyte

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Very nice. 



#8
Iron Father Ferrum

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Occam ducked behind a boulder as the battle cannon shell screamed by overhead, impacting about twenty meters behind him and blowing a hole in the clustered ranks of operatives further up the hill.  The Cadian armor column was responding well to the ambush, as one would expect from such eminently professional soldiers, but the trap had only half-sprung so far.  Hard rounds from the cult echelons were rattling harmlessly from the Guard tank hulls, causing quite a ruckus but little damage.  Occam and a few of his squads were making their way down the hill, but it was not their turn to engage quite yet.  Like the hydra, Omicron attacked from multiple directions at once.

 

The first head of this hydra was the echelons, their stubbers and autoguns pulling the Cadians' attention to their left flank. The second appeared to the column's right in a flash of violet light accompanied by a thunderclap.  Five Terminators coalesced, their corrupted Indomitus-pattern heavy battle plate topped with trophy racks upon which were impaled helms and skulls of humans and aliens alike.  Their tusked countenances turned to view the exposed side and rear armor plates of the Leman Russ tanks, arms raising to aim combi-weapons.  Purple bolts of plasma and eye-searing orange melta blasts spat from their gun barrels, eating great holes in the enemy vehicles.  One Leman Russ brewed up immediately, its entire turret shooting into the air on a tongue of flame.  The rear ramp of a Chimera slammed down, a burst of fire filling the open hatch.  Men, their clothing on fire and skin sloughing away, stumbled from the personnel carrier screaming before they collapsed to the dusty ground.

 

Confusion now reigned among the Imperial column.  The treads of tanks clanked as their drivers desperately tried to maneuver away from the threat of the Terminators, which only opened their flanks once again, this time to the third head: Occam and his men.  More than twenty Astartes charged into the column's midst.  Some jammed krak grenades into vision slits or suspension systems.  Others drew chainswords, cutting their way into vehicle interiors or executing the few soldiers brave enough to step out of their metal boxes.  For his part, Occam pulled the combi-melta he kept chained to his back as he sprinted towards the convoy.  He primed the melta chamber, placed the barrel against the engine compartment of a Leman Russ Vanquisher, and pulled the trigger.  The weapon bucked in his hands as it burned through armor, engine, and flesh alike, and the Vanquisher slewed to a halt.

 

The arrival of the fourth head of the hydra was heralded by a vicious, ear-splitting shriek.  The Avatar of Ophion flew into sight, climbing above the treetops on iron wings and trailing dirty flames.  The heldrake let another bowel-loosening scream as it lined up an attack run, and Occam dove back away from the Vanquisher mere moments before it was engulfed by green-tinged hellfire.  The whole of the tank's surface was melting, prompting the crew to abandon it.  An escape hatch on the side, not two meters away from where Occam lay in the dirt, was kicked open and the crew started frantically pulling themselves out.  Grinning behind his helmet, Occam rose to his feet and drew his sword, the Razor, from its mag-lock on his back.  Its dark purple blade, hooked cruelly along its length, glinted brightly in the light of the hellfire as he advanced on the struggling Guardsmen.

 

There were no survivors.

 

 

So here's my warband leader, Lord Occam Pytheon.  Here, he is represented in counts-as form by Lord Arkos the Faithless courtesy of Forge World.

 

My WIP shot followed by several completion shots.  I did notice, when uploading the pictures, that I forgot to put sigils on his pauldrons, so that's a deficiency I'll correct later.

 

WIP

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Finished

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Let me know what you think!


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#9
Iron Father Ferrum

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On to my third LEGION WAR vow: Brother Ostallian, "Ironhide," a Dreadnought (I will never call box-noughts helbrutes).  Here's my before picture:

 

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More to come as work progresses!


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#10
Iron Father Ferrum

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Painting's been slow since I've been working extra hours the last few weeks, but here's some WIP pictures of the Dreadnought I've taken.  Here we go:

 

KUlJNfk.jpg

 

 

And then I painted the daemon-face from which the laser barrels are protruding.  I was torn what color to paint it -- more green?  Some purple?  Alter the scheme and go with red? -- and decided on the purple.  Let me know how it came out!

 

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As always, comments welcome!


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#11
Iron Father Ferrum

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The boarding pod split open, its fragmentation dischargers filling the arterial corridor with a thousand whirling projectiles each more than capable of ending lives.  The naval armsmen guarding that section of the cruiser's spinal arterial scattered as the pod literally exploded in their midst, the frag rounds scything down most of a squad that wasn't quick enough finding cover.

 

The rest stayed hunkered down, waiting for the storm of bolter shells they all expected to come next.  Yet none came.  There was no staccato boom of bolt weapons, no throaty growl of chainswords, not even the clank of tumbling grenades being tossed out of the pod.  Aside from the moans of wounded armsmen and the emergency klaxons wailing in the background, the scene was almost quiet.

 

Sergeant Yerring slowly, oh so slowly, stuck his head around the corner of the alcove he was using for cover and peered at the wound in the bulkhead where the pod had torn a great hole.  Half the lumen strips on the ceiling were damaged or destroyed by the whickering shrapnel, casting sections of the corridor in darkness; in others, where the lights were flickering, provided an ominous strobe-like effect to the scene before him.  Blood painted the walls which were in turn punctured in hundreds of places by still-quivering bits of metal.  Body parts were strewn about, all of them in tattered dark blue carapace of Battlefleet Colloredo.  Corporal Lassider, one leg missing at the knee and the other sporting a new joint halfway down the shin, was dragging himself across the decking foot by bloody foot.  A thin haze of smoke, courtesy of the exploded electronics, wafted through the vista of destruction.

 

And still there was no sign of an enemy.

 

Yerring shouldered his shotcannon and edged out in the corridor, keeping his weapon trained on the boarding pod's open portal.  He walked towards it slowly, placing one foot quite deliberately in front of the other as he approached.  The closer he got, the better he could hear a deep throaty rumble.  As he stepped up in front of the pod's door, he realized he could feel it too, a reverberating bass that thumped rhythmically in his chest.  It was like standing next to a tank engine.

 

As he peered into the pod, his first impression was that it was empty.  There were no internal lights, and the shattered lumens in the corridor couldn't penetrate the gloom.  And then, suddenly, there was light.  Two of them in fact, a deep and menacing red, slitted and angled.  At first he thought they were panel lights of some kind.  But then, they moved, swaying slightly from side to side.  But they couldn't be eyes, no matter how much they resembled eyes.  They were too high up, too far to be human or even Astartes.

 

Yerring took a disbelieving step back.  Then, as his bladder emptied down his leg, he turned to run.  He didn't make it more than half a step before a pearlescent beam of violet struck him in the back and burned a hole clean through his torso.  The rest of the platoon returned fire on instinct, filling the corridor -- and the pod -- with a veritable maelstrom of buckshot.  Ricochets whined as the hard rounds bounced from the walls with killing force.  Corporal Lassider, still trying to pull himself into cover, died that moment from friendly fire.

 

Ostallian, called the Ironhide by some of his brothers, stomped into the corridor.  Hard rounds pinged from his midnight blue and green carapace without any apparent effect.  Twin lascannon barrels formed his right arm, protruding from the mouth of a gargoyle.  His left arm was a massive chain-blade, triangular in shape, and as he entered the fray he gunned the close combat weapon to life.  A mid-pitch whine took over from the bass rumble of his power plant as the chain-blade whirred to life.  Turning to face the armsmen -- who, to their credit, were still futilely firing their shotcannons -- Ostallian charged forward on his stumpy legs, close combat weapon extended before him.

 

And that was when the real killing began.

 

 

Behold Brother Ostallian Ironhide:

 

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And a close up of the helmet and Legion markings:

 

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As always, C&C welcome!


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#12
Sgt. Blank

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Nice work! Great to see those classic models get good treatment. I four one like the purple on the housing, it adds some contrast with pulling too much focus off the torso details and face.
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#13
Iron Father Ferrum

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That's exactly what I was going for, thanks!  I had considered doing it in green, red, or bone, but settled on the purple mostly because that's my primary accent color on my Marines.  And yeah, I think it came out really well too!


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#14
Dragonlover

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Good stuff there dude! I wasn't a fan of the 'highlight blue with green' in the old Codex, but it seems to work here. Maybe cause the blue is darker?

 

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My project log: The Nine Legions
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#15
Iron Father Ferrum

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I've been a bit too busy for hobby stuff the last few days, but I finally got around to snapping a before pic of my next vow: Vipus Detachment of the Serpent Guard.  You may notice that two of them do have a little paint on them, which is why I included two extra models.  I'll be painting a minimum unit of five with regards to the Diu Ad Belli, and get two extra painted models out of the deal.  So without any further ado. . . .

 

 

 

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The Legionnaires of the Serpent Guard are amongst the oldest veterans of Omicron, each of them having served Commander Occam during the Horus Heresy, if not the waning years of the Great Crusade.  They are experts in teleport attacks, epitomizing the Alpha Legion's preferred battle tactic of striking the enemy from every direction simultaneously.  Despite their skill in close combat, the Serpent Guard prefers to fight at range.  Vipus Detachment is nominally assigned to seek-and-destroy missions against enemy heavy infantry and light vehicles.  Towards this end, they carry combi-plasmas while Sergeant Otho also bears a mighty power fist into battle.

 

Pythos Detachment, on the other hand, are a more mixed lot.  Sergeant Ott is armed with a chainfist while he and two of his fellows also carry combi-meltas for the reduction of enemy tanks and walkers.  To provide these dedicated tank-killers with a shield against enemy infantry, the two members of the squad carry a heavy flamer and combi-flamer, as well as a power sword and lightning claw.  Two members of Pythos Detachment are pictured here alongside their brothers -- and sometimes rivals -- of Vipus Detachment.


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#16
Iron Father Ferrum

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<Trigger code gamma> scrolled across Otho's vision.  That was all he needed to know.  Turning his long-tusked helmet to look at the Legion serf -- a female, oddly enough; so few of them were taken for service aboard-ship -- manning the controls, he said, "Engage at pre-programmed coordinates.  For the Emperor."

 

That last was met by a snigger by one of his squadmates, but he had not time to respond.  The serf, like Vipus Detachment, had been waiting for this moment for long enough and she did not hesitate to activate the teleportarium.  Otho's vision, already tinted red by the view lens of his heavy helm, blurred out.  For just the briefest moment, he swore he came face to face with swirling colors of every color and no color and impossible colors.  There was the oh-so-fleeting impression of danger, as in the moment before a predator attacked, but the sensation and the colors disappeared in a blinding flash of purest white.  Reality snapped back into focus.

 

Where before Vipus Detachment had been standing on the teleport array on the Calozerca, now they stood in the midst of a battlefield.  Just ahead, a platoon of Imperial Guardsmen -- Steel Legion, by the look of their gear -- who had been scampering over fallen masonry and climbing through shell-holes rocked back on their heels in shock and surprise.  The sky above them was a leaden grey, the faintly green atmosphere turned hazy by the columns of greasy black smoke that clawed their way towards the heavens.  Otho's head swung back and forth, orienting himself.  This ruined and blasted cityscape certainly appeared to match the orbital scans of the landing zone, but they were not supposed to be deployed unless --

 

"Behind us," he spoke into the vox, and as one all five of the Terminator armored veterans of Vipus Detachment swung their massive forms around one hundred and eighty degrees.  The Imperial soldiery responded reasonably, and the cantankerous machine spirit of Otho's battle plate started registering laser strikes against the rear quadrant.  Each no more than singed the paint upon his armor, save for one errant beam that blasted apart one of the skulls mounted on the trophy racks that topped his shoulders.  He grunted in consternation.  He'd need to replace that one.  Unlike some of his brothers he took no joy in the practice, but as a commander of Omicron's foremost shock troopers, there were expectations.

 

As the Guardsmen poured their ineffective fire into the Terminators' backs, the squad now found themselves facing their primary targets.  A squadron of Leman Russ battletanks was grinding their way through the rubble.  The Russ was a formidable vehicle, its frontal armor as thick as a Land Raider's glacis.  That made killing them from the front difficult.  Their rear armor, on the other hand, was much more...malleable.

 

Otho took a step.  His heavy tread, weighed down by the heavy battle plate, pulped the head of some unfortunate corpse.  The momentary resistance did nothing to slow his gait, and as the res of Vipus stepped off in his wake, his trundling pace picked up.  "Rapid fire, standard-power," he ordered his brothers.  "Close in and carve up anything that survives."

 

Then they opened fire.  Red-tinged bolts of brilliant purple plasma spat from the barrels of their combi-bolters, the super-heated blasts splashing against the rear-facing engine decks of the assault tanks.  They intrinsically concentrated their fire on the middle vehicle, the combined fire of so much plasma cored through the engine in record time.  The tank slewed to a halt.  With a simple blink-click at the appropriate icon on his head's-up display, Otho switched his weapon's firing mode and then cut loose with a veritable fusillade of bolter shells.  The mass-reactive shells smashed through what was left of the enemy vehicle's engine block and impacted its fuel tanks before detonating.  The rear half of the vehicle exploded into flames.

 

Otho transferred his attention to the next tank in line, now splashing plasma across its flank instead.  The vehicles were desperately trying to turn to face the approaching Terminators, but they were too slow and the surprise was too complete.  Otho strode up to his next target, careful to avoid the heavy bolter sponson that was straining against its own machinery to turn its fury on him.  Flexing the fingers of his right hand, he punched the emergency egress hatch behind the sponson.  The arcing power field around his fist allowed him to cave the hatch in with a single blow.  He yanked the twisted metal out of the portal and shoved his combi-bolter into the gaping hole instead.  Bolt shells exploded across the tank's crew compartment.  Some of the shells killed men.  Some of the shells detonated against the interior, throwing whickering shrapnel across the interior. . . shrapnel that killed more men.  That vehicle, too, stopped moving.

 

Turning about, he watched the rest of Vipus making short work of the other two tanks.  His armor pinged at him, reminding him that it was still registering those flea-bites courtesy of the infantry to their rear.  With their primary targets dead, their orders now reverted to general predation.  He turned his back on the burning armor and lowered his tusks towards the Imperial Guardsmen.  He activated the external vox, cranked the volume to max, and growled, "You're all next."

 

 

Behold, the Terminators of the Serpent Guard!

 

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Sergeant Otho

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The rest of the squad

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And while this is it for my DAB work, here's a tease of what I'm doing next.  Internet cookies to whoever first guesses what this is going on:

 

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+Corruption of Purpose: Heretic Astartes+

+The Blade Unsheathed: Asuryani+
 

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#17
Iron Father Ferrum

Iron Father Ferrum

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Well.  No one commented. . . but that's okay.  The wings were for my Tzeentch-marked Sorcerer.  Here's a couple of finished shots.

 

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I'll have some more stuff when CoC X starts.


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lfvZFVx.jpg

+Corruption of Purpose: Heretic Astartes+

+The Blade Unsheathed: Asuryani+
 

+AO+ Currently seeking a PhotoShopper to make me a Chaos banner for this signature. +OA+


#18
hushrong

hushrong

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A lot of fluff you've composed! I got through quite a bit before rushing off the find some pictures, so I am going to have to go back and read.

As for the minis I am digging it. I love this paint style for the Alpha Legion something about that green on blue hits the right note. The serpent guard look great and you've armed them well! I have been enjoying my AL termies with combos dropping in and lighting a place up (unfortunately I didn't convert their guns). The sorcerer also looks good. I love seeing a classic get some TLC.
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Emperor's Children: Cult of Golden Tears

Alpha Legion: The Heads of the Hydra Strike


#19
Iron Father Ferrum

Iron Father Ferrum

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Thanks, hushrong!  That reminds me, I should probably do some fluff for Ozzymandias, my Socerer there.  I'll get around to it eventually.


lfvZFVx.jpg

+Corruption of Purpose: Heretic Astartes+

+The Blade Unsheathed: Asuryani+
 

+AO+ Currently seeking a PhotoShopper to make me a Chaos banner for this signature. +OA+


#20
Vairocanum

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Wow I love that paint job on the sorcerer! The head looks fantastic, really cool looking model!


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