Just about enough self–flagellation for now, I think. I’ll take last night’s video down. So what, a huge chunk of my life has been ripped from me because of a lie? It’s not like it was part of how I define myself or anything and over the past few weeks I’ve been trying to distract myself from doing something particularly stupid…oh wait. Meh, I mean you’re happy to let me rot like this, so why aren’t I? Sooner or later darling, it’ll eat you up if you don’t tell the truth. It might take months or even years, and you might try and pass it of as PTSD to others, but you know that feeling you get at those particular moments is guilt. I want you to know that I’ll not press charges if you come forward voluntarily, and I don’t think I ever will.
Ok. Moving on. Continue reading “Time to unleash…”
The other day I mentioned that I had made a poll on one of 40k’s main Facebook pages about what I should actually sit down and bloody well do.
And the response has been pretty good.
So as you can see there are some clear winners. Even if we add up the various Ultramarine votes they only come to 18. One behind the Ordo Xenos and Deathwatch. Well bugger me.
So I found an old story I had written a few hundred words for yonks ago. As usual I’d gotten nowhere with it. I had begun to get annoyed with how my army had become the pretty perfect poster boys of 40k.
Thank you Matt Ward.
I aimed to rectify this by putting a bit of darkness and intrigue at the very heart of the Chapter. Anyway, I’ve given it a bit of a tweak, and brought it up to 1000 words. This is a prologue. Let me know what you think:
If you look up the history of the Ultramarines, it is written that the entire 1st Company was killed defending Macragge’s Northern polar fortress from an innumerable Tyranid horde.
It is said they stood and fought, buying time and losing ground, at the cost of their own lives to the last.
At the Feast of Death in the late autumn of Macragge, 100 names are read aloud to the silence of awed reverence.
The Chapter records are wrong.
Only two men know.
…One is listed as dead.
He woke. As usual he was restrained, the cold metal biting the skin on his arms. Having been there for decades, the feeling became welcome as a reminder that he was alive.
The Space Marine had long ago given up any hope his eyes worked, he didn’t even try to look around anymore.
He drew a long breath through his nose. The air was dry, and somehow thick.
“I take it I have not been moved then?” his voice croaked as he spoke, for his throat was parched. He coughed.
“It is two-hundred and fifty five years to the day that your Company died, yet you did not. Why were you spared?” A voice boomed, from all about.
“Every year on this day, or simply when you are bored, you take me out of statis, come here and ask the same questions.
Questions I have already answered, or simply have no answer to. The smell is the same. Although it is disguised, I know your voice is the same, Questionneer. Am I not being transferred to the Inquisition? I would like someone new to talk to…”
“Level six,” ordered the Questionneer. A Shock of electricity ran through the metal restraints and made visions of random colours flash across the prisoner’s black vision. “Eventually Sergeant, you will respect there is no point in resisting or being insolent.”
A silence, as the prisoner comes back to his senses. An eternity of a few moments.
“Thank you, I had an itch. Oddly that took my mind off it.”
“Level nine!” Commanded the Questionneer.
Enough electricity to cripple a grox danced through the Astartes’ body, any normal human would have died at level four, but the Astartes frame could take it up to eleven. That didn’t make the pain any less, but from somewhere within he manages to shout “This is all you have?! I am a Son of Guilliman! I have fought against the Horrors that assail Mankind!” The electro-shock stops; heaving his breath, he continues: “This is cowardice. You keep me alive for your own amusement and nothing more Questionneer, I have told you all I know. Either kill me or free me, this is no way for an Astartes to live, and though clearly you haven’t had enough of our little chats…I have, that is all you’ll have from me. I am Maximus Ixxom, Brother-Sergeant of ‘The Beheaders’ in the Ultramarines First Company. I will not answer to you, Questionneer, only the Captain of The First, Lord Macragge, or Guilliman himself.”
The sound of bare feet against rockcrete greets Ixxom’s ears, barely noticeable against the hum of air feeds. What feels like a rock smashes against the left side of his head. “I used to call you friend, Maximus.” The Questionneer grabbed Ixxom’s head, still swimming, with one hand and Ixxom hears a switch being flicked, with what must be the other. “Visual inhibitors off,” said a more familiar voice as the vocal scrambler powers down, “You wish to speak with Lord Macragge? Well. Maybe we should invite Young Calgar here.”
His vision returned, but he did not like what he saw. Who he saw. This Astartes was an old, almost a cruel caricature of how he was, and looking the old Chaplain’s broken, heavily-bionic visage over Ixxom weakly says, “Ortan, what happened to you?”
Another strike to the face. “Do not speak so familiarly, coward.”
As the horror of who had been interrogating him all this time surfaced in his head, the joy of seeing returned to Ixxom. He looked around. The interrogation room was lit dimly by a few electro-candles, long dried blood stains were all about, and in the corners were the torturer-servitors. Even this sorry sight was welcome. Only one of the machine constructs was on, at a lit console controlling the electro-shocks. But as he remembered, this is how this interrogator, his interrogator, liked to work. Just him, one servitor, one room and one…damned soul.
However, something changed in the Chaplain, he un-scrunched what muscles were left in his back and shoulders. Turning away, Ortan traced the path between metal and flesh on his face and said so quietly it was almost to himself “…it was Tyranids. The ones you were supposed to kill.”
Ixxom looks back toward his old friend “We slew as many as we could.”
Ortan rounds on him so fast, that despite himself Ixxom flinched. “I know your Brothers all did! What about you?!”
With all the intensity in his eyes of a man falsely accused, Ixxom calmly said “I am no coward. I killed my fair share, old friend. If you will listen to my story, and not interrupt, accost or accuse me, you will see I am not lying to you. Have you not looked through my armour’s vid feed?”
Ortan Cassius looked into Ixxom’s eyes, his gut telling him to listen and to stay his wroth. “Even our Master of The Forge cannot calm your armour’s machine spirit. He supposes it could not cope with all the carnage it saw, and then being separated from you…He has advised that it be destroyed. I have convinced him otherwise for now. Proceed. If I find out you have told me any falsity, I will kill you personally. Not with chems, electro-shocks, nor even any weapon, but my fist closing round both your hearts. Do you understand?”
“Yes…Why not take me to my armour? That may calm it. Can I be released from this bondage and sit? Or even get some water?”
“Your tale, Ixxom, or I’ll leave you here to rot.”
“Up here I stay then.” He breaks the gaze, fidgets to get as comfortable as possible, takes in a deep breath and said “I’ll not bore you with the dates. Here it is, as well as I can remember it…”
…And that’s it at the moment. What do you think?
Kib does keep on poking me to update, and in a break from tradition I have actually listened to him for once.
Yes, this is an update -Ed.
Ok, so a lot of
shit stuff has happened in a short space of time again. Both SWMBO and myself had birthdays, I went down to Heathrow T5 with work for a fortnight. Then Scamright let me go, which just confirmed my suspicions that they had hired lots of people because they needed the bodies in now…
Eh whatever, I have a new job. Back at Lancaster University! (I don’t understand either…) I can’t go into specifics, but its to do with electronics and radiation, what could go wrong? NO I AM NOT BUILDING A BOMB, KIB.
We went to Southport Flower Show because we’re middle-aged/class.
We have a new chair to (somewhat) match the sofa in the living room.
SWMBO and I watched What We Do in the Shadows that my good fiend* Kib has reviewed here. WATCH IT.
So hobby news! I’M DOING HOBBY SHIT WOOOOOOOOOO!
Armed with biostrip 20 and my old minis, I’m going backwards to make progress.
Here are three tactical squads stripped, reassembled, and all with Ultramarine + squad markings.
Special weapons are magnetised.
That’s about it for now! But first a sneak peak:
–OH, I forgot to mention that I’ve also upgraded most of my nerf. Next up will be…the barricade with ammo counter. Then…the clip system ammo counter….
Reading up on the background of 40k is a really bad idea for me…oh hobby butterfly that I am
I read about the Ultramarines Honour Company and Deathwatch Black Shields earlier this/last week.*
The Ultramarine Honour Comany (UHC) is a company that Roboute Guilliman founded at the end of The Heresy as a constant vigil against any enroaching Chaos threat. (Read above link)
This extra Company exists outside of the standard 10 companies in the Ultramarines’ Chapter. It is made up from volunteers from the Ultramarines and their second founding chapters. Not much is known about them, other than in the old Eye Of Terror codex they are listed as fighing, and in some of the pictures they are simply vanilla-second-company-esque smurfs. These volunteers repaint their power armour to smurf, and fight under the UHC banner. I will HAVE to do a squad or two of these. Merde.
And secondly, Black Shields. These guys are awesome. I was going to be painting a small contingient of Deathwatch (seiously, I like started the build about 2-3 years ago) and since the new SM codex, I’ve thought that Deathwatch marines would work quite well as allies using Imperial Fists rules. I have also thought that I’d like to model a Captain in Centurion Warsuit (rules be damned).
I shall, therefore, be doing both. A Deathwatch Blackshield Captain in Centurion Warsuit. Using intresting bits from around the internets.
They also have a sheild I’d like for the UHC Champ
…and so begins the next part of the neverending crusade…
Slight Man-Cave update:
We got a silly quote from Okenclough (Somewhere in the region of £2300) so this weekend we stopped by someone else and got a quote for a brick-and-mortar garage for ~£2000…guess what we’re going with!
Thanks for stopping by,
*By this I mean “I’ve slept since then, and I can remember it. Therefore I’ve probably not made it up, or was not drinking at the time.”
You know I mean business when I write a blog about it…
This year I aim to:
- Actually get a hold on the ammount of 40k I have and feckin paint a load up
- Get back into the piano properly, and perchance play in public again
- MAN CAVE
- Gardening (Because I’m apparenly middle aged)
- Chill out a fecking bit
- Get on at work, or move on
And yes, I’m aware its the middle of April already…but I’ve been playing piano again, and I’ve certainly bought some warhammer since the year began…
Is there such a thing as an obscene amount of firepower?
Ive built a devastator squad that has two lascannons and two plasma cannons in it…is that a bit too much?
Music: Frustration, Hayseed Dixie
Aside from battling against the rumours that have been going round about me Ive been:
Back to Blackpool to visit Young Master Luke 2 times
Back to Blackpool to do 2 bonfires (At the same time as going to see Young Master Luke)
And went out as one of the Big Three (Plus honoured guest)
And have been kicking ass with weight loss and Gaming.
Thats about it, apart from…
IT CAME!!! My Chaplin Dreadnaught!!
The enemies of mankind shall run from me or be crushed by this monstrosity.
Yesterday it single handedly took out 6 or 7 sternguard and a librarian on its own.
Its worth 150 (when armed with the plasma cannon) and took out (25*6 + 100=) 250 points at least!!
It kicks ass. Simple.
Right; got to go to a lecture that I’m pretty sure was cancelled anyway.