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The Ollanius Crusade - Fighting Company Luther


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Actually it wasn't really planned, but I was rifling through my bits box and it just started to fit together. I like the parallel, hopefully one day he will get a chance to go toe to toe with Abaddon on the table and avenge Sigismund! And yes in gold he will use Helbrecht's stats (so the claw is just for show!). 

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Might as well say the claw is a power claw (power fist variant) instead of a lightning claw, so Luther has a way to deal with enemy tanks and Daemon engines.

 

Grand Marshal Luther (after tearing off a Black Legion Predator's turret, he now wields the turret like a hammer, to batter the Despoiler): "For Sigismund! For Dorn! For the Emperor and His Imperium!"

 

Abaddon (swings Drach'nyen at the Predator turret, only for the improvised weapon's mass to push back the Daemon weapon, making him cut himself): "Ow! Do something- Ow! Useless Daemon!"

 

Drach'nyen: "Do what? When you destroyed Cadia instead of conquering that world, you denied me the souls I needed to...!"

 

Drach'nyen (as the Predator turret shatters Abaddon's skull, spilling the Despoiler's brain across the battlefield): "Grow an extra three meters and match his weapon's reach. Um, Grand Marshal Luther, isn't it? Are you recruiting new... souls... for your crusade? I assure you, I have a lot of experience fighting crusades."

Edited by Bjorn Firewalker
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Unit Fluff - Stormbringers (Bladeguard):

 

One of the styles of warfare open to a permanent member of the Sword Brethren is to serve in the Crusade's Bladeguard: known as the Stormbringers. So-called for the lightning motifs carried on their storm shields, the Stormbringers are a crack unit and seen as heroes by their fellow brother-initiates. Wielding arcane power swords and their famous shields, the Stormbringers can always be relied on to be in the thickest of fighting.

 

Unlike other specialisations open to permanent Sword Brothers, such as training in the use of Gravis armour as an Aggressor, in practice the Stormbringers do not automatically accept candidates to their ranks. In theory it should be no different, but the unit has developed rituals and customs of its own over time: a brotherhood within a brotherhood. Marshal Luther frowns on this kind of elitism, and has made efforts to suppress it by dictating that Firstborn and Primaris have equal right to join the unit. If anything this has increased the hero status afforded them, as both flavour of marine can look up to them as role models.

 

A Sword Brother's time in the Stormbringers is seen as his finest hour: the defining moment of his career. He can either mark himself out for further greatness, or simply discharge his duties with courage but then fade back into relative anonymity. The Marshal is as equally wary of their increasing clout as he is grateful for their skill in battle. For however clouded and secret their recruitment is, their piety and fervour in prosecuting the Emperor's enemies is plain for all to see.

 

The size of the Stormbringers is not fixed, nor is the length of a Sword Brother's service in the unit. While the origins of its traditions are unknown, their passing-down is unbroken. Never has the entire unit been wiped out, ensuring that even after heavy losses (which are rare), there is at least one surviving Stormbringer to pass down his knowledge to new Sword Brothers joining the unit.

 

Here are some Bladeguard. I would have used the Forge World shields if they were still available, but alas they are not. I didn't trust myself to mangle the AoS shields so I thought I would just create fluff to suit them!

 

I've gone back and reorganised all my posts to put the fluff in spoiler tags to make it a bit neater. Might add some detail to the OP concerning the Crusade organisation too at a later stage.

 

 

 

Stormbringers 1

 
 
 

Stormbringers 2

 
 
 

Stormbringers 3

 
 
 

Stormbringers 4

 

 

 

~K

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Yes I thought about trying to find some tangible link to the original Thunder Warriors but thought the time gap is just too great for any meaningful true connection. Doesn't mean they can't honour them though, which is what they're doing!

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Your EC looks a suspicious lot like our first champion Sigismund.

 

Nicly done. I've got Sigismund and am debating wheter to paint him as IF or as BT.

 

I will probably go the BT route, as my Hellbrecht is also in black.

 

Keep up the good work and inspiration!

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Your EC looks a suspicious lot like our first champion Sigismund.

 

Nicly done. I've got Sigismund and am debating wheter to paint him as IF or as BT.

 

I will probably go the BT route, as my Hellbrecht is also in black.

 

Keep up the good work and inspiration!

 

Yes has to be BT! For the glory of the Eternal Crusade. 

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Unit Fluff - Ebon Eagles (Terminators):

 

When the Ollanius Crusade first set out, it was fortunate to carry enough suits of Tactical Dreadnought armour for three squads. After the disastrous warp storms that dogged its early days and destroyed almost its entire fleet, only the third squad's suits remained, and its members still call themselves 'the third'. 

 

The Ebon Eagles, as they have become known, represent the fearsome reach of Marshal Luther. In response to the rising popularity and influence of the Stormbringers, Luther brought the activities of the Ebon Eagles further under his personal supervision. Where the Stormbringers represented heroic deeds and glory, the Ebon Eagles were the embodiment of death. Grim butchers on the battlefield, their massive powered spears cut through infantry and vehicles alike, wielded with a speed and grace that belies the hulking frame of the terminator armour. At the same time, their shoulder-mounted bolt launchers propel high-explosive bolt shells into their foe as they advance, sowing chaos and fear as they implacably carry out their mission.

 

Their organisation holds no mysteries: all permanent Sword Brethren may be called upon by the Marshal personally to serve in the Ebon Eagles. They are less his honour guard than his enforcers, often operating independently on the battlefield through use of teleport array. It is considered a bleak honour to serve in the Ebon Eagles, for few songs are written of their deeds, often too terrible for record, yet always critical to the war effort.

 

Story Fluff - First Blood

 

Luther scowled beneath his helmet, barely able to contain his rage as the forces of his Crusade marched on the ugly palace at the end of the square. A small strike force had landed on the planet Macharia, posing as an honour guard, and were marching on the enormous gold palace as a show of respect and faith. The planet's Chief Pontifex was holding a ceremony, and thousands flocked to his glittering keep to bask in reflected glory. Marshal Luther, at Grimaldus' advisement, was using the celebration as cover to move his forces in close. The Pontifex's staff had bitten their arm off, of course, when they had offered to present Astartes, Black Templars no less, as the centre of the parade.

 

Alongside the Marshal marched Intercessor Squads Tyron and Veer, their auto bolt rifles gleaming and polished to parade standard. It was deemed that the chainswords of Assault Intercessor Squad Ricard would be too warlike and give the game away, and so they had remained behind. Marching alongside this host were the Stormbringers, Brother Julian the Emperor's Champion, and even Reclusiarch Conrad, his hulking Dreadnought frame causing fear and wonderment to the crowd in equal measure. Due to the very public nature of the event, Grimaldus had also remained behind.

 

The square they marched across was enormous, easily a mile across. The squalid, dense, chaotic buildings of the planet's capital hive city crowded it on all sides except one. They were filthy, poorly-lit, unsanitary: unfit for subjects of the Emperor. The Marshal was unable to contain his disgust at the contrast between the poverty he saw on three sides to the great golden palace at the square's northern edge. Huge green spaces, waterworks, and ornate furniture marked the perimeter, all contained by enormous ferrocrete barricades and energised fencing. Beyond that, the keep itself: bloated with wealth stolen from the populace, it was encrusted with all manner of precious stones and marble statues, hideously expensive stained glass adorning every surface, and choirs of thrall-slaves eternally adding to the noise with rich hymnals. It seemed to have been made from solid gold, or at the very least a costly and authentic substitute, and its spires pierced the sky as if staking their dominion to the stars themselves. There was something deeply wrong about the whole building.

 

As Luther and his warriors took their place at the centre of the parade, directly opposite the palace, a hushed silence fell on the assembled throngs. Thick doors made of solid diamond swung open onto a balcony, high enough that the smell of the people below could not possibly reach it. And out came the Pontifex. The very sight of him put the Astartes on edge: they felt as if a dull spike was pressed into the back of their heads. They recognised the feeling instantly.

 

"Psyker..." snarled Julian through his vox, other brothers hissing in agreement. Conrad, previously subdued and lumbering, seemed to stiffen and straighten up, suddenly exuding hate like a beacon. Luther could hear the miracle blood beginning to pour from the Dreadnought's sarcophagus, knowing with grim satisfaction that the full force of the Reclusiarch's wrath would be with them today. The Marshal could feel the rage spreading through his assembled warriors, knowing they were itching to join with their foe.

 

The Pontifex began to speak, words slithering out of his mouth and falling like great globules of slime to the gathered hordes below, but neither Luther nor his brothers could hear it. Their blood was up, zeal singing in their veins as the hour of deliverance approached.

 

Finally, it came.

 

A great golden light began to shimmer on the balcony, and the Pontifex could make out the unmistakeable smell of burning flesh. Suddenly there was a great bang, silencing the crowd, and the Pontifex looked down to see a power spear protruding from his chest. He had been smelling his own flesh, burning under the righteous fury of the Ebon Eagles, who had teleported onto the balcony, butchered his personal guard, and now impaled the Pontifex himself so quickly his mortal senses had not even had time to register it. The lead Ebon Eagle cried out in triumph, lifting the Pontifex's corpse up on the head of his spear and hurling him forward, casting him down off the balcony and to the screaming masses below.

 

"Abhor the Witch! Destroy the Witch!" roared Conrad, his battlecry taken up by his brothers. The thousands of gathered Imperial citizens howled like animals, spitting and cursing in tongues, and the Marshal realised they had all been corrupted by the Pontifex's foul influence. Even before they began shuffling toward his warriors, their hostile intent plain, Luther knew:

 

They must all burn.

 

Moving the fluff forward a bit to their first target, and below are my Terminators the Ebon Eagles! I plan to have their spears represent Chainfists, given their enormous size and that they are being wielded in both hands, a swing from one of those could just as easily cut a tank as a man! And the shoulder-mounted bolt-launchers will represent their combi-bolters. 

 

As ever, click the image for better focus!

 

 

 

Ebon Eagles 1

 
 
 

Ebon Eagles 2

 
 
 

Ebon Eagles 3

 
 
 

Ebon Eagles 4

 
 
 
~K

 

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Story Fluff - The Burning of Macharia (Part One):

 

The real fighting started when the Intercessors ran out of ammo.

 

Shortly after the corrupt Pontifex had been cast down, the shuffling, indoctrinated masses of the planet's capital hive had begun throwing themselves on the Astartes. The Templars had immediately taken up a defensive phalanx position, right in the centre of the great square, completely surrounded by the unclean populace on three sides, and the palace guards to their rear. Squad Tyron faced the palace, and Squad Veer split in half to form the other two sides of a triangle. Each Intercessor stood two marching paces apart, giving the warriors in the centre room to breathe. The Stormbringers, Conrad the Bloody, Brother Julian, and Luther faced outward in all directions from the middle of the phalanx, ready to plug any gap that might appear.

 

The early work had been easy enough. The auto bolt rifles spat death, disciplined volleys carving the onrushing civilians like a hot knife through butter. Bodies began piling up, and three times the horde broke and ran, pushed back by the ferocity of the Templars. But each time, more filled their place, gibbering and chittering, some already on the way to mutation. It was if the entire hive was emptying, vomiting its populace out of the dense, squalid hive blocks and onto the streets, with all roads leading to the square where the Ollanius Crusade made its stand.

 

As the paving stones became slick with blood, the din of war became insensate. Luther was faintly aware of the distinct bark of shoulder-mounted bolt launchers, as the Ebon Eagles methodically murdered their way down the inside of the palace. Their progress was slow but deliberate, and held the attention of all the palace guards, leaving Luther to deal with the civilians. As ammunition began to deplete, the Intercessors were more conservative with their ammo, the hordes slowly closing the distance even as they continued to fall in droves. The Stormbringers joined with their pistols, and Conrad released ferocious volleys of fire from his chest-mounted storm bolters where the throng was thickest. The crazed masses trampled the bodies of their own to get closer, to sink their teeth and fingernails into this hated foe that had shattered their corrupt utopia. 

 

And then, the ammo ran dry. 

 

Almost simultaneously, Sword Brothers Tyron and Veer reported no ammunition remaining and ordered their squads to mag-lock their bolters to their waist and draw combat knives. The Stormbringers sheathed their pistols and drew their own blades, the energy fields crackling into life as their machine spirits sang. Conrad's enormous dreadnought blade also fired up, casting an eery blue glow over the Templars. The hulking Reclusiarch had been roaring hymnals and benedictions the whole time, but now he kicked it into a fever pitch.

 

"No Pity! No Remorse! No Fear!"

 

The battlecry was echoed on the lips of every Templar as the first melee was joined. Luther led the Stormbringers into a charge, passing between the Intercessors and crashing into the horde. His power sword moved like quicksilver, slicing heads from necks, arms from sockets, and legs from waists. The Stormbringers kept pace, their shields hurling foes aside as their blades tasted impure flesh, the stench of burning skin and gore filling the air as the swords' energy fields did their grisly work. Luther's charge went deep into the sea of enemies, causing mass hysteria and panic. The Intercessors maintained their phalanx, brutally and methodically dispatching their foes, led ably by Brother Julian who swung the enormous Black Sword as if it were wooden. Luther's charge relieved pressure on the Intercessors, and divided hostile efforts.

 

Suddenly, the square was illuminated by a searing amber light, followed by the unmistakeable report of holy plasma fire. Conrad had made a charge of his own, even deeper into the enemy than Luther, his dreadnought armour impervious to the civilians' attempts to breach it. They were swarming his sarcophagus even as he swung his gigantic weapon in looping arcs, pulping scores of civilians in seconds. He had detected a particularly dense mass arriving into the square and discharged his macro plasma incinerator, wiping them from the face of the planet in an instant. This was the last straw, and the hordes broke and ran, scuttling away to the edges of the square, but not yet fleeing the field completely.

 

Luther snarled as he pulled his blade free of a fresh corpse, blood spattering his golden Gravis armour. He and the Stormbringers returned to the centre of the phalanx as the Intercessors finished dispatching those that were too injured to flee as Conrad lumbered back to the centre. They had suffered no casualties.

 

"This isn't war," Luther hissed, "This is pest control." Brother Julian grunted in assent, his Armour of Faith almost completely covered in crimson gore. Sword Brother Veer approached his Marshal, disengaging his power fist as he did so, "My lord, we need an exit strategy, this hive is home to billions. It would take us years to kill them all like this." Luther nodded his agreement, "Yes we cannot stay here forever, but we cannot consider our next move until the Ebon Eagles rejoin us. Until then, we must hold the line." The Templars shouted praise to the Emperor in acknowledgement as Luther turned and looked up at the palace. The balcony his Terminators had deployed to was nearly a kilometre up the face of the building, and there was no guarantee of a simple staircase all the way down. The palace could be a maze.

 

The extermination would be long indeed.

 

I was not quite happy with how Luther looked previously, a bit too much cloak and looked too similar to the Librarian model he was taken from. That conversion was a useful learning experience though.

 

I wanted something a bit more obviously armoured, and so now we have the new Gravis-armoured Luther. Pretty pleased with how he turned out! As ever click for better focus.

 

 

 

Grand Marshal (Gravis) 1

 
 
 

Grand Marshal (Gravis) 2

 
 
 

Grand Marshal (Gravis) 3

 

 

 

 

~K

Edited by Brother Kraskor
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