Totally agreed, and yeah I'm definitely looking forward too it. I have a few things planned for when my next FW order gets in to add a liiiittle more depth to the formation of the company itself. Hopefully it'll shape up right, though Loken, Aximand (his reluctance at the Lodge meeting and getting pressured by Erabus and Targost always got me), where they had their ideal and in a sense their self doubt just feels 'right'. I'm looking forward to having a mix of men and monsters too, just like one would expect.
Well, not a ton of movement today, got 5 models left in the 65th to go through, but I did take a few pictures after I did up some work on an AoS thing for a mate. So, some more white backed shots of some units from before.
First of all, turns out the 65th has a fair number of Terminators in its ranks, this one includes the Justaerin unit that I basically don't count as part of the 65th at all. Hidden 'cause it's an idea. Now, lots of writing and just toying with the caption bars.
QUESTION: Whatcha think of the min-max picture views in the side bars?
The autocannon barrel flashed again, each juddering shockwave from the weapon lifting motes of dust that swirled and eddied across the roof of the idling Rhino. Sergeant Culkas squinted, trusting his natural genhanced eyesight as he picked over the flitting images in the crepuscular gloom. Among the twisted scrap heaps of the refinery he'd seen movement once or twice.
Heavy Support Squad Culkas, loaded up on autocannons and spoiling for a fight.
Korass braced his weapon on the Rhino's hood, resting on a rivet to steady his aim. His power pack whirled and whinged, overtaxed, overcharged, as thick choking dustclouds drifted down from Myscera's last shot to clog the intake of the aged Iron armour. The staccato bark of the cannon lit up the night in blinding starburst muzzleflashes. The whip-crack of the high velocity munition's ricochet filtering back after a full six seconds in the thin air.
“Target do-” a keening whistle, the sound of a mallet on wet meat, and Korass toppled back with a spastic shudder. Culkas slipped back behind cover as the echoing report of the sniper's work mockingly drifted over the distance a moment later. He was the only one left. Culkas' eyes drifted over the still shivering form of his remaining squadmate, three other crumpled figures draped silently behind the Rhino like broken dolls. He licked his parched lips, checked the munitions drum of his autocannon, and took a steadying breath. The aged sergeant rested the cooling vanes of the autocannon on the lip of the rhino, and slowly eased himself up above the side to fire.
~Istvaan III: D+55:02:26
The armoured assault proceeded like any other exercise or compliance on dozens of different worlds over the years. A wide sweep of armoured vehicles rolled across the landscape, thick smoke plumes launched in rhythmic waves by the encroaching armour with straggled lines of infantry loping behind the armoured carriers and clanking battletanks.
Missile Heavy Support squad Myscera, split off from Hail to form a new task force.
Two hundred astartes and a dozen armoured vehicles rolled up the ashen dune towards the small jagged outcropping as the 'morning' sun beat down in waves of unfiltered orange turning the white smoke swatched land into a virtual hellscape of billowing orange flames.
Traggan slammed the last rocket into its magazine housing and shouldered his multilauncher again. “Right, full volley, adjust seventy meters.” the sergeant's voice rasped across the vox link. With nary a heartbeat between order and execution, the gunner tapped the trigger. A brief puff of overpressure and the thin reedy contrail of a rock spat out into the void and arced down over the wave of advancing warriors to the little round top. Four others accompanied it, and after another moment and trigger press, yet another, and another joined the flight.
The little pinpricks of streaming tails of white fell among the far-flung crags, the distance far too great to make out any individual foe. The small puffs and churned up pillars of grey and yellow flash in the sunlight with a guttural thump and little else.
It was war over a distance of kilometers, as cold and impersonal as the dreary Istvaan dawn. But war it remained.
~Istvaan III: D+55:09:01
A whirling gout of searing heat and flame scoured the corridor, crackling paint untouched by the firestorms that had swept over the planets surface. The aged bunker's thin air supply was choked in the stench of charred meat and boiled lubricant oil. Two black clad reavers hurried down one smouldering hallway, bolt pistols outstretched and chainswords revved to life.
Flamer support Squad Dakon, honestly I never expected I'd want or need one but they're kinda just too cool to pass up!
“C'mon Dakon, keep up!” The small team of legionnaires waded down the blackened halls, pilot lights jumping and illuminating little of the verdigris armoured host. One of the five walked backwards, swaying the flamer to and fro like the fitful dancing of a will-o-wisp.
“Yes, yes.” The five hurried after the reavers just as the 'leader' of the pair quickly holstered his pistol, pulled a grenade from his harness, and tossed it blindly around a corner.
A few cried of warning echoed in the dark before a thunderous bang shook dust free from the hall.
The second reaver twisted the pistol around the corner, a few shots barking off into the dark before withdrawing after a return clatter of bolter fire stitched harmlessly across the rockrete walls. The deafening din bouncing deep down in the bowels of the ancient hab block. The reaver's grin was almost visible through the pale faced skull helm as Dakon licked the promethium tinged air and pursed his lips. His lean face contorted into a wry smirk as he broke into a run and sidled up next to the reaver at the corner.
“Good dog, finding me someone else to play with.” he twisted the barrel of the combi-flamer just over the lip and squeezed the trigger. The burning gale of searing white flame spat into the room, drawing desperate cries of pain that fought with the unending roar of the flamer. All the while, Dakon's hollow unblinking gaze remained fixed on the Reaver even as the last few tails of liquid fire guttered and died.
~Istvaan III: D+59:15:46
Silence reigned over the interior compartment. Not one of the ten figures said a word, none needed too for the moment. Resigned sighs and the low thrum of the vehicle's engines were enough sound compared to the cacophony of war that played on outside. Weary digits poked and prodded the ceramic and metal fittings of the plasma guns still crackling with dissipating heat from recent use. The barrel shroud of Trooper Castian's rifle still trailed a noxious waft of vapours like an censor as he waved it back and forth to cool the overheated weapon.
Aaand of course a full plasma squad has to be included with a legion of any large strength, so squad Refute was rearmed and reinforced.
“Six-five, Catalyst team reporting in.” Dexor Haas's thunderous voice broke the silence and echoed in the rhino's cramped interior. A reedy confirmation and perfunctory congratulations from the driver's compartment vox responded after a harsh static click.
Haas sighed, slumping back against the hard metal seat. “We're headed back to Rassus Rally point to restock.”
Trooper Fentyn slowly turned his gaze from the grated floor to his commander, “Sir, we were just at Rassus point. Unless they have a resupply, we took the last hydrogen cells. Unless this is a rest stop.”
The awkwardly asked question hung awkwardly as a few other troopers unfixed their attention from empty spaces and turned to their commander. Haas clicked his tongue, “Ammo haulers from the twelfth brought in more with them. We'll be rearming and heading out again.” there was a moment of silence, “We're Ahazaar's firefighters right now, so step to it. If the Marshal needs something dead, then we'll make it real dead.” The sergeant's craggy face twisted to a rictus grin, “Besides, you have the whole ride back to relax before I want you to kill something again. Now aren't I generous?”
A few wry chortles melded with the affirmations as Haas chortled and rapped his knuckles against the overhead spar, all but spurring the armoured carrier to life.
~Istvaan III: D+59:23:51
“T-minus ninety seconds!” Captain Kademius roared from the command deck, locking the armoured helm on the neck seal. The massive trundling Mastodon echoed with the clang of richocheting anti-tank rounds and scintillating crackle of recharging void shields. From the command deck he could see everything, a wave of Raiders, Spartans, Rhinos, and Predator tanks of a half dozen companies grinding over the flattened walls and mounds of ruined masonry that littered the Precentor Palace's inner courtyards. The glittering sapphire lances of lascannons stabbed into the pitted grey stone as billowing black pillars of smoke shrouded the horizon. From the commanding position safe aboard the Vitanii, Kademius was privy to a full view as the line of defenders collapsed inwards towards holed and chewed through portions of the palace. They fled like startled gyrinx, bounding back away from the looming tide of armour that poured through the shattered defences made by the titans.
And a clear and simple shot of the Mastodon MS-3301 "Vitanii"
Legio Mortis war-sirens bleated in the near distance, audible through the dampened vox pickups. Kademius pinned his cloak on his shoulders and turned from the command deck as the hazy wireframe projector of the marshal's face dissipated. The captain of the 65th returned to the ladder connecting the command deck and assault decks of the company's command vehicle. The massive vehicle swayed as it pitched down an incline and shuddered, bottoming out as it swung its mass towards a seemingly undamaged wall.
Sliding down the ladder, Kademius heard the whirring promethium pumps as they funneled heated promethium through the series of conduit pipes between decks to the melta arrays combustion chambers. Landing with a bang, the captain turned, looking at the line of readied breachers already prepared for the assault. Yet, each one made way for him as he strode through the assault chambers towards the red lit assault ramp. It was blocked with a single massive slab of ceramite, crouched low like a boulder, limbs ending in shimmering barrels of adamntine.
Kademium chortled as he strode to the massive inert figure, patting the dreadnought's armoured hip. “It's been a long time, Gorros.” He thumbed the activation stud of his thunder hammer and breathed a sigh of anticipation as the plan ran through his mind in all its complexity. The tide of shields and armoured bodies settled around him in neat serried ranks.
The vehicle didn't slow, it sped up. A high pitched whine roiled above him, held, and suddenly exploded to life like the scream of a ramjet engine.
Shields slammed down onto the decking, magnetic soles steadied the legionnaires further, and with a bone breaking jolt, the vehicle abruptly stopped. The manic click of locks melded with a whir of servos as the Contemptor Dreadnought Gorros seemed to rouse. A series of rhythmic bangs was dampened by the massive doors.
The interior light lit up green, and Kademius raised his thunderhammer aloft. “Come now, Ash Jackals. Charnel Hounds! Unto ash!”
The door burst open with a sweeping gale of pulped rockrete and fumes of vaporized metal. But the roar of his warriors cut through the haze like a living wave.
~Istvaan III: D+75:09:55
And just because I was kinda curious, I put together all my Troop choices to see what it looked like en mass... I kinda feel like I need 40 more or so legionnaires or at least despoilers.
Edited by Vykes, 10 November 2018 - 08:14 PM.