Greetings B'n'C !
I'm not great at presentations, suffice to say im an old time lurker on these amazing forums where the collective work and spirit that you mad people bring to the Hobby has never ceased to inspire me. The goal of this log is thus twofold, first to present my ramblings and musings on the fantastic setting that is the Heresy, and secondly , without shame, to emulate the fantastic threads that pulled me towards opening this log. ( I'm especially looking at you In Memoriam : The Day the Palace Fell )
Now as to which Legion i will be working on, well, im not going to tell ...... yet, but i can already say that i plan to bring a whole new dimension to an existing Legio Astartes.
I've placed my Forgeworld orders yesterday so do not expect fast-paced updates for the moment. That said i have resin lying around, so we'll see .
I will try to bring to this thread a good deal of narrative, background and try to weave my ideas and characters into the Heresy Canvas, it is the first time i try to flesh out things like that, so your collective input is highly important to me. My first language is French, so the prose might need rectifications from time to time .
But enough of my ramblings, im not going to start a log without giving you something to chew on am i ?
" There will always be, on every given world and at any given time, a branch of the population that differs from the general demeanor of its inhabitants. More warlike, more violent. Made so by repetitive trials or societal elements. The Skiritae of Macragge are such an example, the Hill Folk of Nostramo or the Desert-born of Colchis another. Death Worlds ? Yes, one could say that they are an exception to that rule, for these planets they seem to breed hard traits in all their inhabitants. But they are oh so wrong.''
Kyril SIndermann, On Societies . M31
'' We come from the Pit ''
The taste of ash was thick in his mouth. Smokes of it drifted all around him as he walked purposefully through them, clinging to his crimson frame and curling around the newborn horns and runes adorning his Maximus battle-plate, caressing the branded mark of the gods on is pauldrons. He did not see much, yet he strode onwards.
He spat, trying to get rid of the acrid taste, and noticed the flickering red eyes set in humanoid forms ghosting in the ash-clouds, they were whispering at him, shadowing him. A grin parted his thin lips, reaching his eyes.
''Begone wraiths, you will find no prey here'' he mused aloud while lifting his Crozius. The weapon, a heavy war-scepter blessed by the curse-thralls of Erebus himself, seemed to glint in the non-existing sunlight. The wraiths withdrew, their whisperings fading, and the ash was just ash again.
The Apostle chuckled, the Neverborn had sensed his faith, and the power that it granted him. His hand strayed to a thick leather-bound tome hanging by his hip, and gently laid upon it. The Urizen had been right, the gods were real, this path was true, and truth brought power over all. He walked on.
The ash began to clear, curtain like, and the Apostle's green eyes fell upon the theater of war.
He walked through the dead streets of a corpse. The city's skeletal remains stretched for miles, dead fingers of scorched buildings reaching to a veiled sun. A gust of wind blew, defining a path through the carpet of ash. He walked on, with the crunching of his footsteps on the calcined earth his only companions.
The path led him to the central plaza of the ruined city, and there, the Apostle stopped. There was no ash here, it did not cover the scene before him. A grand mosaic unfolded at his feet. Warrior-kings armored in cobalt and armed with lightning fighting orks, settlers laying the foundation of a future corpse, and above it all, a great bicephal eagle holding an Ultima in his talons.
The Apostle breathed a sigh, and blinked. The mosaic glittered, and slowly took on a new form, the tiles snaked around him, and truth was revealed. Where they where blue, the giants were now clad in crimson, the settlers at their feet, pleading, crying, dying surrounded by darkness from which glittered red eyes. The Ultima was broken.
The Apostle smiled, the Omens where good.
In the shadows of the surrounding dead buildings, flames flickered.
Edited by MrBadweed, 25 August 2014 - 03:44 PM.