World Eaters, Berzerker Squad, the Red Wake of Targuul Draeg.

 

The light cruiser Wrath of Nuceria drifted in silence beneath the shadow of Nhalgor’s corpse-moon, its battered hull half-lost within the cold radiance spilling from the daemon world below. Brass iconography and chains swayed gently across its scarred armour plates as warp-lightning flickered soundlessly over the planet’s horizon, illuminating the cruiser’s wounds in brief flashes of pale violet. 

Once Imperial in shape and discipline, the vessel had become something feral over long centuries of slaughter. Gun decks had been converted into shrines of bone, whole sections sealed behind welded blast doors after daemonic incursions, and every corridor carried the smell of engine oil, blood and wet iron. Deep within the vessel, far beneath the command decks and macro batteries, the sound of chanting rose from the gladiator pits like the growl of some slumbering beast.

The pit galleries shook with violence. Chainaxes screamed against one another while the crowd of World Eaters hammered fists and weapons against the iron railings above. 

In the centre of the arena, Targuul Draeg and Sevak Mordrek tore into each other with the fury of starving animals. 

Both warriors were already soaked in blood, their armour dented and split from repeated blows, the remains of mortal pit-fighters crushed beneath their boots. One corpse still twitched near the arena wall, its torso opened to the spine by an earlier strike. 

Draeg drove forward with a boarding axe raised high, roaring curses through broken teeth, but Mordrek kicked the mangled corpse across the blood-slick floor. The dead mortal slammed into Draeg’s legs for a split second of distraction, enough for Mordrek’s chainblade to rake across his chestplate in a shower of sparks and torn ceramite.

The watching Berzerkers descended further into frenzy with every passing moment. Draeg’s Red Wake bellowed for their champion to take Mordrek’s head while the Skullclaimers answered with mocking chants and threats. Insults became shoving, shoving became punches, and then chainblades revved to life among the galleries. 

The first kill came quickly; a Skullclaimer smashed his helmet into a Red Wake warrior before driving a combat knife beneath his jaw. Suddenly the tiers erupted into slaughter. Brass railings collapsed beneath grappling legionaries, pistols barked at point-blank range, and mortals fled screaming through the galleries as gene-forged killers hacked one another apart above the duel still raging below.

Then everything stopped.

Not gradually. Instantly.

*****

A while ago Fraser gave me a World Eaters army, I'd played it a couple of time against his Battle Sisters when we wre trying 10th edition 40k for the few times that we played it, and then it just kind of sat there...

I had started renovating it and starting tk paint it and it got sidelined as I became distracted with other things, work and life gotmin the way yadda yadda yadda.

The World Eaters are some of my favourite characters from the Heresy novels, as they really fleshed their fall to Khorne out and adding much needed context other then "BLOOD! SKULLS!" etc.

If only the 40k writers could add some of that subtlety back into them, rather then just making them one dimensional psychopaths.

Having recently been ill with a chest infection and laid up for a week, I couldn't be bothered tk go through the boxes for stuff, so just grabbed the first thing from the painting tray which was half finished and spent a couple of days finishing off Squad Draeg. The results of which are below:

I stuck fairly close to the main World Eaters scheme with this unit. With just a few armour panels painted in alternate colours, the gold gets a really nice warm tone from using Berzerker Bloodshade over it all, adding shade and warmth, as well as red tinge which almost looks like dried blood*.

I also downloaded an ap called "Progress" which allows you to keep track of projects in a percentage based system.

You can see the bulk of the World Eaters here:

This is everything which Fraser gave me, and I've added a couple of things to the list which haven't been added to the Progress ap yet.

There is a lot of red on there, but apparently i am 20% through the project already, so that's a bonus.

Anyway, Until next time, have nice day....

*****

The roar of the pits died as though strangled by an unseen hand. Every helm turned toward the entrance tunnel leading into the arena floor. Heavy footsteps echoed slowly through the corridor, measured and deliberate, followed by the low mechanical growl of a damaged vox grille. 

Vekkar Thrice-Slain emerged from the darkness carrying his executioner axe low in one hand, blood-red eye lenses scanning the pit without hurry. The Master of Executions descended the steps alone. His Butcher’s Nails pulsed visibly through the cables hammered into his skull, yet unlike the others there was no uncontrolled rage in him. Only restraint stretched so tightly it had become terrifying. Even the maddened Berzerkers instinctively backed away from the edge of the pit as he entered.

Draeg roared and charged regardless, too deep within the Nails to halt himself fully, while Mordrek lunged from the opposite side with his chainblade shrieking. Vekkar moved between them with impossible speed for so heavily armoured a warrior. His axe rose once. A wet double impact echoed through the chamber. Both champions staggered past him before collapsing to their knees, their weapon arms severed cleanly at the elbow. Draeg screamed curses into the blood-soaked sand while Mordrek simply stared at the stump pumping dark arterial blood across the arena floor. Their chainweapons fell beside one another still revving uselessly in the dirt.

Silence lingered for several long seconds as blood pooled around the two champions. Vekkar stood motionless between them, axe dripping steadily, his breathing rasping through the vox speakers like an animal preparing to kill again if challenged. 

No one moved. 

No one dared. 

Above the arena, terrified mortal attendants scrambled into action while a hunched overseer finally found his voice and screamed toward the upper galleries, “Apothecary! Apothecary to the pits!” 

The cry echoed through the chamber as Draeg and Mordrek glared at one another through pain and humiliation, neither willing to bow, neither able to continue, while the Master of Executions watched them both in absolute silence.

*I have been over my feelings about adding blood and gore to models before in other places on tbe blog and suffice to say I won't be adding stupid amounts to this project either. 

It looks stupid, often ruins decent paint jobs, and the fact is really that we don't need to see it on models, we all KNOW what the weapons are meant to do to a body,  I don't need to model that to have fun.