Featuring the names of all of the characters I've made so far, model-wise, as well as some more who are in the planning stages.
The sky of Cassia Secundus was slate grey. The coming storm painted the lush green plains in an evil green, its hue almost neon. The planet has been the source of a surprisingly grueling campaign, the Imperial Guard of the Valhallan 67th Regiment tenaciously holding their position against the World Renders of Khorne, the berzerker warriors of the XII Legion being ground to a halt by the Valhallans.
“We should take the fight to the cowardly Valhallans! Lord Drachstur is holding us back!” Rufar states, shaking his head.
“He believes he has a new tactic to allow us to break down their fortifications.” Andrus replies. “Ronogar has been chosen for something involving it.”
“Ronogar? That fool? What will he do?”
“Whatever Lord Drachstur commands him to.”
* * * * * *
Inside the belly of the Annihilator, Khadon Drachstur’s personal flagship, the lords of the World Renders have assembled. Ronogar, Zephon, Berogon, and Alaz’Batyr have assembled.
“The Valhallans are dug in, we could just bomb them out of their hole.” Says Ronogar.
“And what then? What skulls will be there to take if they’re all pulverized by rock and explosives?” Replies Alaz’Batyr.
“And what of Ramiel and his Hounds?” Inquires Zephon. “They could be of use, as the Valhallan’s fortress has a massive pipe network.”
“Ramiel and the Hounds are planetside, currently in a hit-and-run battle with the Valhallans. My Predators and daemon engines are assisting.” Says a new voice, incredibly deep, and brassy.
The assembled lords turn to see the massive bulk of Khrogar, the World Renders’ Master of the Forge.
“We salute you brother!” Berogon says, being the first to acknowledge the massive newcomer. “It is good to see you peeled away from the forges.”
A chuckle, almost the sound of shearing metal, emanates from the Warpsmith.
“I am here because Khadon asks me to be. Speaking of which…”
The doors at the back of the room open, the tactical-dreadnought armoured form of the Lord of the World Renders strides into the room.
“I will dispel any questions amongst you all.” Drachstur says, looking over the astartes in front of him. “I have called you all here to discuss my plan for dealing with the Valhallans.”
The assembled lords nod before Drachstur continues.
“Khrogar’s scans have pierced the Valhallan’s defenses and revealed to us that their leader squats inside that fortress. My plan is simple: We are to take his head.”
“That’s all? Well, a complex enough plan for a genius such as yourself.” Alaz’Batyr says, a grin forming behind his helm. “Are we to also march to the gates of their fortress and request a duel with him as well?” The warrior folds his coal-black arms in front of his chest.
The other lords turn, glaring at Alaz’Batyr before Drachstur raises a hand.
“While Alaz makes an… astute point. My plan is not so difficult. We will drop one operative on the mountain above the fortress, who will infiltrate inside of it, kill anyone in his way, and then kill the Valhallan’s leader.”
“Ah, there is the plan. So, Lord Drachstur, who pray tell, will be the one chosen for this?” Alaz’Batyr inquires.
“Quiet son of Vulkan, before I remove your tongue!” Says Ronogar.
“ENOUGH!” Drachstur shouts, immediately catching the attention of the assembled lords. “I have already thought and decided: Ronogar will be the one to undertake this mission. I believe it will be an… adequate use of his skills.”
Ronogar lets out a wolfish grin.
“A solo hunt? Alone behind enemy lines? My Lord, you honour me… When shall I begin?”
“Nightfall on that area of the planet.”
* * * * * *
“Tell me Drachstur, why did you choose Ronogar for a mission like this?”
“Because old friend, were it not for the colour of Ronogar’s armour and the maw on his shoulder, I believe he would have forgotten he’s a son of Angron and not one of Curze’s spawn.”
“Ah, so because of his normal tactics of leaving mutilated corpses in his wake then?”
* * * * * *
The rain has begun in earnest now, thunder growling in the distance and lighting crossing the sky. The freezing rain, shards of ice already forming from it, bouncing harmlessly off the scarlet-and-bronze armour of Ronogar as he stalks down the mountain above the Valhallan’s fortress. The single warrior looks over the fort from his position above it. He observes guards marching along the walls, but no stationary ones on the rear. Fools then.
Checking the power on his pistols and seeing their level is at max, both in charge and power setting, Ronogar brings his hand to the wicked blade strapped to his waist. Making sure the sword is attached properly, the World Eater begins making his way into the fortress. Already he feels the pulse of the Nails, they too know a ripe hunt is coming.
* * * * * *
“I swear, we must have enraged off the general. Having to patrol in the rain. What a load…”
“No, the enemy has stopped assaulting the walls. General Tornoff believes they’ll try to assault us again soon.”
“Still though, patrolling in the fort? That seems a little-”
Before the guardsman can finish his statement, a bright, blinding white flash shots from the darkness. The plasma shot vaporizes the guardsman above the waist.
The second swings his lasgun to bear, the flashlight shining in front of him. Already the crimson-armoured astartes has moved, the mud splashing around his boots and the flickering field of a power weapon crackles from the rain hitting it. The blade whips through the neck of the guard, blood erupting from the stump of his neck as his head is removed.
“Two down… A lot more to go” Ronogar thinks to himself, grinning maliciously.
* * * * * *
“Why haven’t alpha and delta patrols haven’t checked in?”
“Unknown General. Perhaps the rain is interfering with their communications?”
“No. Something is wrong…”
As soon as General Tornoff makes his statement, a voice comes over the vox.
+General! Sound the alarm! The walls have been breached! A World Eater is inside the walls! He’s… Oh no, no, no!+ The guardsman stops, the sound of a lasgun firing is heard over the vox. A scream can be heard before the line goes dead.
“… Where was that?”
“I-Inside this building sir. He’s in here with us.”
“Damn it!” General Tornoff grabs his power sabre, checking the weapon before readying it. “Men! Raise the alarm. We shall find this traitor and end him. He thinks that only himself can defeat us?”
General Tornoff turns to the vox operator.
“Send a message to the men inside this building. Fan out and search for him. Ready meltaguns and plasma guns. We’ll give him something to worry about.”
* * * * * *
Ronogar grabs hold of the guard’s head, squeezing until the helmet cracks under his hands before his thumbs dig into the guardsman’s eye sockets. Twisting, he removes the screaming man’s head.
“That’s… Thirty now?” He thinks to himself. “I need to request Khrogar make a kill-counter for my helmet.”
The World Eater chuckles to himself, looking over the carnage he’s left in his wake. The fact the guard now are bringing meltaguns to bear amuses him.
“Oh, I must have made them angry…” He chuckles before looking over the schematic of the building. “The general must be in the central room… One floor to go…”
Ronogar readies his pistols, running down the corridor. Reaching the stairwell, he begins his ascent, his heavy footfalls echoing, no longer caring about stealth. He has caught the scent of blood and wants more. Reaching the end of stairwell, he presses against the doorway, his two-a-third meter height pushing his helmet’s cadaere renissum against the ceiling. He leans into the doorway, quickly looking over the hallway. Lasgun shots narrowly miss his helmet.
“And so, it begins…”
Ronogar runs out from the stairwell, plasma pistols at the ready.
“BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!” Both pistols fire, their muzzles releasing blinding flashes of hot plasma, vaporizing the guardsmen at the door.
The World Eater reaches the locked door before laughing.
“This won’t stop me!”
Reaching at the bomb strapped to his waist, Ronogar places the melta-charge against the door before moving a safe distance away and detonating it, the actinic flash vaporizing the heavy metal. He returns to the door, firing his pistols four more times, slaying the guardsmen inside the room before turning his attention to the Valhallan General standing before him. The crimson-armoured warrior attaches his pistols to their magnetic locks on his armour.
“So… Just the two of us then?” General Tornoff says, activating the power field of his sword.
Ronogar removes his helmet, dropping it to his right. He removes his own sword from its scabbard.
“Yes… I will enjoy taking your skull.”
“You’ll have to work for it!”
The general charges the World Eater, who has now activated the power field of his own sword and responds in kind. The swords clash, the power fields of both blades sparking off each other. The massive bulk of the khornate warrior pushes the human general back. General Tornoff pulls away, twisting out of Ronogar’s direct reach to try a different angle.
The World Eater whips around, his sword swinging in a deadly overhead arc, narrowly missing the general and instead slicing through the railing and one of the cogitators, the machine exploding in sparks. He begins laughing madly, swinging again and again at the general.
“I’ve fought thousands!” Ronogar swings again, the blade smashing against the general’s. “I was there when the Emperor ordered the execution of the Thunder Warriors! I’ve fought and slaughtered at more battles than you’ll ever imagine!” The World Eater finds extra purchase, tossing the general across the room. “I am Ronogar of the World Eaters. And you, will be just another head I have taken.”
General Tornoff shakes his head, coughing up blood. He stands up, grabbing his blade once more. A sharp pain rips through his chest, as he can tell several ribs were broken by the blood-maddened warrior’s strike.
“Come then Traitor. Try and take it…”
The World Eater charges, swinging his blade for the General’s neck. Tornoff ducks under the blade, thrusting his sword up and into the armour of the astarte. The blade bites in, piercing ceramite and flesh. Ronogar grunts, but stops his swing and pulls his arm back, trapping the general inside his grip.
“Got you.” The son of Angron grins down at the general.
Ronogar’s free hand grabs the general’s neck, squeezing and crushing the man’s spine. The human lets go of the sword, body twitching as the World Eater easily snaps his neck. Pulling the blade out, blood dripping from the wound but already clotting due to the marine’s enhanced physiology, the World Eater decapitates the broken body of the Valhallan General.
“Skulls for the Skull Throne!”
Ronogar returns to his helmet, picking it up and putting it back on, opening a vox channel to his Thunderhawk.
“Relay a message to Lord Drachstur. The fortress of the guard has fallen.”
+Understood my lord+
“Good. Now, I have more skulls to collect.”
Now, In case anyone is trying to put a model to the name:
Edited by Gederas, 08 June 2018 - 04:41 PM.