Barabbas Sogalon

I don't know why, but the second Surgeon brings up a mental image of a jolly old fellow skipping around the countryside while singing like the seven dwarfs. Also, I love the filthy pre-Heresy colours on the Death Guard.

TITH I started working on a Haemonculus conversion that will either go as planned or end up as a complete waste of money and plastic. At least Black Sabbath is there to keep me company.

TITH I put together a single Kabalite warrior. First Eldar model in ten years and it feels damn good to do something that doesn't involve power armour.

TITH I removed the crest on a Dire Avengers helmet while watching cycling on the tv. Made me feel like the king of productivity.

TITH I dug out several Dark Eldar boxes that have gathered dust for years and sold my soul to Commorragh.

TITH I decided to return to the 41st millennium. Time to make the plans from 2012 a reality.

Konstantin van Borken, High-Colonel of the Icosetian Dragoons and loyal servant of the Emperor, didn’t flinch as the firing squad mowed down the men around him. Instead, he straightened the crimson uniform, held his head high and met the stare of his executioner, a one-eyed soldier armed with an old autogun. The man was disgusting; scruffy-bearded, dressed in drab colours, and the owner of a grin filled with gold, iron and yellowed teeth. Dying at the hands of filth. Northern Varyags. The regiment of hyperviolent, genocidal savages had helped conquer this world five years ago and after seeing how they exterminated pacified cities just for the excitement Konstantin wasn’t surprised to find them among Horus’ traitors. Those beasts were always a stain on humanity, the Emperor should have- The autogun barked and Konstantin fell backwards into the body pit, stomach ablaze with excruciating pain after his executioner decided to aim low. He landed beside an official whose throat had been cut. A purple-haired girl from the firing squad looked into the pit, smirking. “Something wrong with your sight, One Eye?” “Nah. Remember how the stuck up bastard used to mock us? I’m just returning the favour.” The girl giggled as she walked away, leaving the High-Colonel to writhe among the corpses of his Dragoons. He had no idea how long he lay there, cursing his murderers and wishing for an end while red-hot shards moved around in his abdomen. A loyal officer deserved better than this. May the Emperor burn those honourless whoresons to ash! A heavy stubber sent more bodies into the pit and Konstantin almost blacked out when most of them ended up on top of him, making the pain unbearable. Why couldn’t he just die? His murderers sang and cheered as they rolled another batch of corpses over the edge; the freshest ones were all decapitated, their heads no doubt decorating the Varyags’ tanks. Breathing became more difficult as the pile grew heavier and foggy vision heralded a welcoming loss of consciousness that would end this nightmare. But fate wanted otherwise. Liquid splashed over his face, pulling him back into the living hell, and the stench of death was replaced by that of petrol and heavy spirits. Through the bars of his corpse-prison, he noticed a tall woman stop by the pit with a cigarette between her slender fingers; she was covered in gold, pearls and silk, and each puff of smoke was followed by a long sigh. Konstantin remembered her from five years ago, a sadistic noblewoman who once turned standard compliance into mass slaughter out of boredom. Her kind had no place in the Imperium, corrupt and decadent aristocrats twisting the Emperor’s dream to serve their own needs. Tyrants of the worst kind who… He stopped his fevered rant when he saw the woman throw away the cigarette with a flick of her wrist and cheerful Ta ta! The High-Colonel screamed as the flames ate into his flesh.

The model is well done; her backstory is well-written, but worrying. Did she remain loyal to the Emperor during the Heresy, or did she turn to Khorne (as suggested when you described how "she revelled in the bloodshed") or Slaanesh (as suggested when you described how she'd "fondle statues representing the local goddesses")? The Northern Varyags joined the traitors and Svana was definitely following the Blood God, with a sprinkling of debauchery on the side.

Charger S. Dravestanys, 2nd Warhost, 4th Armoured Assault Regiment Northern Way (The Varyags), pictured ca. 001.M31 Svana Jakobusdottir Dravestanys hailed from the Northernmost Bastions, the last hive along Terra’s Northern Way to fall to the Emperor during Unification. Violent and vindictive, she grew up in poverty under the heavy heel of the highborn aristocracy, each day a fight for survival among the ruins of her people. One day, her mother was disfigured for rejecting a nobleman’s advances; fifteen-year-old Svana, who’d witnessed the whole thing, hunted the man down and fed him his own eyeballs before stabbing him over fifty times. For the murder of an Imperial official, the laughing girl was faced with the choice between a humiliating, public hanging or life-long service with the Northern Varyags, infamous for their genocidal tendencies in the Great Crusade. Svana chose the latter and after a ceremonial burial had declared her dead, they assigned her to the Varyags’ 2nd Warhost as a throatcutter responsible for upholding the regiment’s policy of “no survivors”. This new life of non-stop warfare suited her and over the next ten years she revelled in the bloodshed, eventually receiving the senior rank of Charger for her ferocity and massive kill-count. As the Varyags purged world after world for refusing Imperial Truth, Svana began to take a perverse pleasure in blasphemy and sacrilege: During the Subrikkan Subjugation in 001.M31, Charger Dravestanys got drunk on sacramental wine and proceeded to fondle statues representing the local goddesses while wearing the bloody vestments of a high priestess, random “blessings” and “absolutions” leaving her lips.

That’s a wonderful question, darling. Who is the crazy mistress of 2nd Warhost willing to die for? Family? My weakling parents can rot in Hell for all I care, and I’ve already helped my short-sighted brothers on their journey there. Perhaps my little sister… who is either squeezing out fresh cannon fodder or lying dead in a ditch somewhere on Terra. The word “marriage” has always made my skin crawl. Ugh. Besides, what sane soul would want a pretty wife who’s also a cheating, compulsive liar? I’d probably end up murdering the unlucky bastard on our wedding night. Wanting to die for your home is a popular delusion. There’s a reason I left that pit to kill people across the stars when I turned fourteen. Maybe if you’d asked me a thousand years ago, long before the Emperor broke the Northern Way and knocked us Nordmen down into the dirt to fight for scraps like dogs. At least that place taught me the importance of strength and cunning, and that trusting others will only get you killed. Ah, the Regiment! My comrades in arms! Please, sweetie, you know the Varyags as well as I do. 4th Northern is nothing more than madmen, thieves, murderers and kinslayers declared dead in the eyes of our people; half were already insane when they popped out of their mamas, the rest go to war high as an Imperator Titan. I might have a thing for depraved lunatics, but I’d sacrifice them all in an instant if it ensured my continued survival. How do you think I got my own Warhost? The best way to climb the ranks is to let others take the bullets meant for you. Consider that today’s lesson, darling. As for the Emperor… Apart from destroying my home in the Unification Wars, what has He ever done for me? How is killing for Him any different than gutting a bastard for looking at me the wrong way? Corpses are corpses, doesn’t matter whose name I screamed when I pulled the trigger. Can’t say I like this vision we’re supposedly fighting for either. A unified Mankind ruling the bloody stars in an Age of Enlightenment and Endless Prosperity? I don’t see any fun in that. I wasn’t born for utopia, unless it involves wine, debauchery and daily bloodshed, but that’s not what He’s selling. Do you find that shocking? Don’t know if your naïveté is adorable or alarming. Sure, I’ll sing the Imperium’s praises, I’ll even write a damned poem in His glory if it keeps me alive, but I’ll never believe. I’m too busy tending to the golden-haired goddess bearing my name. So, I’d say I’m a very loyal and devoted person. Loyal and devoted to myself and my own survival. Though, my dear Archivist, I might think a bit more… favourably of the girl who’s going to fetch me another drink. Now, please. - Chief of the Assault Lana Karelion, 4th Armoured Assault Regiment Northern Way, when asked to define loyalty, 998.M30.

TITH I made two important decisions: Decided to take a break from the Death Guard and then had a hobby related crisis. Too many ideas rolling around in my head, so I guess This Christmas In The Hobby will be spent figuring out the way forward. Decided to shelve the Imperial Army Regiment I've planned for two and a half years. Can't find any models anywhere that fit my vision for the 31st millennium Northern Way. Plastic Steel Legion would solve it, but that's like hoping for all the Primarchs to be killed off once and for all by a collective heart attack. Maybe I'll just build a tank for them instead.

I've waited for an opportunity like this. I, Barabbas Sogalon, of the dreaded 4th Northern Varyags take up your Challenge. I vow, before my brothers and sisters of the B&C to complete THE FINAL CHALLENGE and submit it to the Liber before the deadline. I vow to support my fellow challengers to the best of my ability. May Hel herself curse me if I fail.

A little clean up remains, but here he is. Praise the Omnissiah! Archmagos Lukaas Ikayasson Argentias IV, self-styled Rad-Lord of Mars and Supreme High-Polemarch of the Mechanicum I can reveal that this lucky, opportunistic bastard will be the only member of this army who survives the Horus Heresy.

The Rad-Lord is coming... Still a lot of work left.