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Blades of Perfection


Pearson73

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The raptor kit really is brilliant, I adore the chain swords, they somehow manage to be simultaneously butal and elegant. All the details on the shoulder pads and legs are great too.

 

The artwork in #13 is, I believe, actually by a guy who does official work for GW, there was a bit of speculation about what it could mean when it was released. If new Emperor's Children match that artwork, we'll be absolutely laughing.

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  • 3 weeks later...

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Arios slammed against the collapsed column, chips of marble spraying out as his armoured bulk fractured the stone. Slotting another clip into his bolt pistol he consulted the data streaming down his helmet display, noting the positions and vital signs of his cohort; four of his men had sustained minor injuries, whilst he and Karas both remained unscathed. A furhter cascade of marble fragments heralded the arrival of Tumbias, his ribcage had, over the centuries, bonded fully with his armour and expanded to enclose his torso completely, the ivory bone was coated in a thick sheen of sticky red blood.



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Tumbias



Nodding once to his Reaver, Tumbias rose to his feet and fired off several pulses from his daemon-faced sonic weapon; masonry shattered and weak human forms flopped to the floor, organs rupturing and limbs spasming. Drawing a slender blade, he hurdled the the column and descended upon the mewling mortals who still lived.



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Lerio.


Taking advantage of the lull created by Tumbias' strike, Arios waved forwards the rest of the cohort, though the command was unnecessary, his warriors drilled for hours each day, perfecting pre-coordinated responses enabling instant reaction to a near infinite number of possible scenarios. Lerio lead the formation forwards, quick pulses from his sonic blaster eliminated enemy threats almost before they appeared, his preternatural senses allowing him to detect the mortal foe even before they had entered the corridor through which they proceeded.


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Toji.


Toji stooped down to inspect the torn corpses of the Imperial soldiers who had died to defend the shrine ship's core. Though they were, in truth, unworthy of his dark patron, his lord demanded souls and none could fail in their tribute, not even one so favoured as him; intoning dark phrases he punched through the chests of his foes and claimed there hearts, daubing the freshly drawn blood across his brow in the sinuous symbol of the Dark Prince. His skin scorched where the blood was applied and a foul smell rose through the air, yet Toji's features remained unmarred, despite his scorn of helmets, his face had sustained not one scar in all his centuries of service. He truly was one blessed by the Prince.






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Very nice update with pictures and fluff! My favorite combo!

 

Everything is coming out top notch! And love the mix of purple with the shade of blue and pink you are using. Only thing I'd like to critique is maybe to use a think piece of plasticard and score it into a grid to give those tiles a more three dimensional effect. I think some sheets of plasticard may come like that too!

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The Imperial resistance had stiffened as the first Cohort neared the inner sanctums of the shrine ship; regular troopers being replaced by hardened veterans encased in thick carapace armour and wielding over-charged lasguns capable of piercing even ceramite. Nevertheless, Arios and his warriors had forged a steady path towards their target, aural blasts pulping all who stood in their path. At long last they stood before the golden doors sealing the sacred ground, a huge twin-headed eagle covered the portal, the hated Aquila, symbol of the Imperium and the rotting corpse Emperor. Arios grinned and raised his blade in a mocking salute to the icon under which he once bled.

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Arios.

A rage filled bellow answered Arios' gesture and the ground trembled as a huge weight hammered towards the door from the other side, the Kakophoni spread out, taking up defensive positions behind ruined barricades hastily erected by the human guardians. With a low grumble of ancient machinery, the doors ponderously swung open, bathing the six Astartes in a hellish glow. Seconds later, a wall of super-heated promethium spewed forth, immolating arcane fetishes and scorching paint from armour, even Toji staggered back under the heat, favoured though he was. A deep bass hum swelled as Karas, the Cohort's heavy weapon operator prepared his blastmaster, the curiously elongated barrel vibrating as the sonic energies welled within.

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Karas.

Iron claws hauled a monstrous bipedal creature through the groaning entranceway, hissing pilot lights beneath betraying the presence of underslung heavy flame projectors. The Penitent Engine stormed forth, a white robed figure could be seen writhing amongst a nest of cables and hormone injectors, though whether from pain or righteous fury, none could say. A score of the fanatical Adepta Sororitas accompanied the berserk walker, boltguns blazing as they surged forth, eager to slay their hated foe...

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First Cohort Kakophoni lead the way in the storming of the inner sanctums of the Shrine Ship Bellicosa.

@hushrong - Thanks for the kind words, you've definitely convinced me to pick up some plasticard now, it was also suggested on Instagram that I apply some gloss varnish to the tiles too, should hopefully make them stand out even further.

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An ululating scream rent the air, forcing the warriors of the First Cohort to grimace in discomfort, even as the Sororitas dropped to their knees, hands clamped over their ears as their armours' audio dampeners overloaded. A purple clad giant launched himself through the air and into the midst of the reeling Battle Sisters, executing one with a single bolt round to the head, whilst slamming another against the delicately filigreed wall, pale gold turned sticky red. Kaliek of the Second Cohort triggered his back mounted sonic array once more, shattering the eye lenses of the surrounding shrine-guardians and exploding heads in a gory display of aural power.

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Kaliek 'Aelf-Bane' Reaver of the Second Cohort Kakophoni.

The warriors of Second Cohort spilled forth from the jagged tear in the wall through which their Reaver had lead his charge, blasters fired pulse after pulse of pure sound, catching the Battle Sisters in a lethal crossfire with the members of First Cohort. A shrill shriek indicated that the heavy weapon operator Croesus had switched his weapon to the suppressing dispersed frequency, distorted curses emerged from his heavily modified mouth as he tore apart the first groups of recovering Sororitas.

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Croesus.

The booming roar of boltguns echoed through the corridor as the Battle Sisters regained their footing; mass-reactive bolts exploding against the hard ceramite of the Kakophoni, still the elite foot soldiers of the Blades strode forwards, abandoning their cover as they sensed the wavering resolve of the shaken Sisters. Isidor staggered as a bolt round slammed into his helm, temporarily blinding him. His vision recovered just in time for him to see the huge form of the wrathful Penitent Engine charging towards him. Rolling under the walker's grasping claws, he fired off a burst of sound towards the shrunken figure interred within, however unseen energy fields absorbed the blow with ease. Smashing the butt of his weapon into a Sisters faceplate, he was once more forced to dive to the ground in order to avoid death, the Engine not yet sated.

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Isidor.

Grunting with pain as a knife sliced into the meat of his thigh, Thrraj stamped his boot down, crushing the skull of his assailant; already, he was beset by another pair of warrior maidens. This was taking too long, the tightly coordinated order of battle permitted no delays, discarding his blaster he charged headlong into the approaching Sisters, stunning the closest with a thundering hook, he reversed his swing in order to grasp his victim's helm. Hissing with exertion, the berserk Kakophonist tore the helm and contained head from the neck, hurling it towards the second Sister, the seconds gained from her retreat from the gory projectile were all he needed to close the distance and seal her fate.

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Thrraj.

@ElDuderino - Thanks man! I'm really trying to expand my painting skills to catch up to where my converting's at, and I think this project's helped, as has the attitude of just going for it! I'm also fond of the bases, even if they're not so smart up close, en masse they create a very striking effect. As a big fan of the work you've been doing (especially the Terminator Prince), it's great to have you on board.

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Of course, I love these guys!

 

This seems like a great way to level up your painting skills, anything goes on an emperors children model. You've improved quite a bit since that biker on page one hehe.

 

I also saw that you mentioned my Prince earlier, feel free to copy anything you want, it'd be pretty sweet to see someone do their own take of the concept.

 

And btw, have you seen the hellstrider kit? It looks like a great source for slannesh parts, a pretty rare occurance. I've been thinking of sticking marine torsos onto their naked abdomens and making some suitably kinky slannesh followers, I don't know if I'll ever get and to it thougn:)

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The Canoness, looked around in dismay, fully two thirds of her entourage lay slain; the Slaaneshi filth were unstoppable, shattering power armour with rapid pulses from their daemon faced blasters and rending limbs with cruel blades and fists. Levelling her inferno pistol she fired off a beam of super-heated metal spinning a purple-clad giant around and punching a sizzling hole through his baroque armour. Catching sight of his assailant, the heretical Astartes leered madly and stepped towards her, his left arm hanging limp indicating a severe injury to the nerve bundles. A tinny noise informed the Canoness that her pistol had recharged, crying out in hatred for the aproaching abomination, the veteran Sororitas extended her arm once more, and blinked. Her hand was no longer there, the arm now ended below the elbow, blood spurting madly from the fresh stump, "But how..?" uttered the stricken Sister, looking up into the soulless eyes of the Astartes looming over her. His maw extended as he emitted an alien scream and her world shattered.

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Abbas of the Second Cohort.

Their leader slain, the last remaining Sororitas fell swiftly to the ravaging blades of the Kakophoni, the Battle Sisters no match for true Astartes in close combat. Still, the Penitent Engine had proved a lethal challenger to the martial supremacy of the Blades, it's brute frenzy proving dangerously capable of mauling even the most agile warriors, Siravan of the Second Cohort lay bloodied and broken upon the decking of the corridor. He would survive, though he had brought heavy shame upon himself and his cohort, Kaliek would grant him his life, but he would not permit this failure to go unpunished.

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Siravan.

Sheathing blades and hefting their sonic cannons, the combined force of Kakophoni continued through the golden doors guarding the inner sanctums of the shrine ship, keen eyes scanning the panelled walls for hidden access ways or weapon systems. A wet bubbling sound disturbed the relative quiet of the moment as the injured warrior regained consciousness and his advanced physiology raced to repair the damage dealt by the crushing claws of the Sororitas battle engine. By rights, Siravan should have been slain, not even the enhanced skeleton of an Astartes should have been able to withstand the immense strength of the raging walker, however Siravan belonged to the more superstitious ranks of the Blades, seeing the Dark Gods not just as patrons, but as keenly observant fathers; as such, his armour was covered in esoteric markings, offering protection and promising death.

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Occult rune staves grant protection against the foe.

Dragging himself inch by painful inch, Siravan clawed his way down the corridor, after the receding backs of his brethren. Not one looked back upon hearing his ragged breathing or heavy footsteps as he staggered to his feet - he had fallen, he was less than perfect, he was less than nothing.

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Second Cohort Kakophoni acted in concert with their brothers in the First to shatter the resolve of the Sororitas defending Bellicosa.

@ElDuderino - It certainly is, considering the time and effort I've put into building these fellas, I've got one hell of a motivation to up the painting standard. I think with the brush control, it's quite a steep learning curve, so my attempts at new skills now are already much better than those a week or so ago. When it's time to add a Prince, you can be sure I'll be consulting yours for inspiration. The Hellstrider kit is a beauty, I've seen some nice use of the parts here, I think from @Kierdale though I'm unsure. As you say, it's a difficult one to find though; that plan sounds like a winner to me.

@hushrong - Cheers brother, it's really rewarding seeing my painting ability progress, just comparing where I'm at now and when I started the 'Loyalty and Mayhem' thread is a shocker.

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What you see here, on board this ship and within this group in which she sails, is only one section of our forces, one dagger amongst many dozens of blades. As you will have noted, the Lord Commander forges his own path and directs his own wars, no proxy of a greater master is he. The same is true for all our fleets and the Commanders who lead them; each Lord Commander wields authority equal to the power under his command, as do the Lord Reavers beneath him and Reavers beneath them. Each leads their warband or chosen men under the banner of their primary Lord, forming a greater force acting in concert upon the fields of war. Before battle is joined, each Lord Commander holds a conclave of Lord Reavers who are, in turn, attended by their Reavers, as in the ways of the clans of old. In times of great portent, the Lord Commanders themselves will gather, hundreds of ships congregating as the shards of the Blades rejoin into a crusading force rivalling those lost to ten thousand years of war.



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Azelkoth, Lord Reaver, Damned Seer, Master of Kakophoni.




As the decades pass, many warriors seek out our fleets, intending to join our brotherhood and quest for ultimate perfection. Those few who arrive alone are assimilated into an existing Reaving which most suits their methods, however those who arrive in number are challenged. Those who lead their brethren to victory in these challenges gain the right to retain their authority and lead their warbands as Reavers. The strongest amongst the initiates will go further, slaying an existing Reaver and claiming his title. These most bloodily crowned warlords must then dictate the fate of their fallen rival’s retinue, many will assimilate these men into their own ranks, though not a small number choose instead to sacrifice them to the Gods of the Warp.



Azelkoth was of the latter caste, challenging the then Lord Reaver of the Kakophoni Cohorts, a move high above his station of initiate. Infuriated by this impertinence, the Lord commanded his men to slay the arrogant new-comer, however in an unnatural display of acrobatic grace, Azelkoth danced through the wall of bolt rounds and tore into his would-be executioners. Grudgingly impressed by the warrior's evident skill, the Lord ordered his men to withdraw and strode down the marble steps from his dais and down into the fighting ring in which his challenger awaited. Reaching over his shoulder, the Lord removed a great Berdiche axe from its sheath, spinning the weapon in complex arcs with only the merest twitches of his wrist; the great blade seemingly weightless in his hands. Grinning ferally, Azelkoth drew a slender dagger covered in intricate whorls, matching the patterns etched into his vambraces and primary blade. Dancing forward with a lightning jab, Azelkoth ducked under his adversary's blade, well within his guard, and struck up with the dagger, smashing the haft of his axe down, the Lord easily blocked the attack and shoved his opponent back. Circling one another warily, the two combatants searched for weaknesses in the other's defences, constantly feinting and darting, hoping to provoke an over extension or mistake.





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