World Eaters, Berzerker Squad, the Skullclaimers of Sevak Mordrek.

The assault ramp crashed into the shattered manufactorum floor with enough force to send cracks racing through the ferrocrete. 

Before the dust had even settled, Squad Mordrek surged forward into the ruins. Brass chains swung from their armour as they ran, rattling and clattering against scarred ceramite in a metallic chorus that accompanied their war cries. They moved like a living avalanche of red, bone-white and brass. Chainaxes roaring as they tore through the defenders before proper firing lines could even be formed. 

A planetary militia officer managed a single shouted order before Sevak Mordrek's axe struck him across the chest, splitting armour, flesh and bone alike, the return stroke seperated his head from his neck in a crimson fan, splattering the warriors behind him as the World Eaters plunged deeper into the slaughter.

The Skullclaimers fought with a singular purpose that even other World Eaters found disturbing. Every kill was not merely a death but a trophy waiting to be claimed. Heads were severed with practised precision and immediately hooked onto belts or dangling chains. Warriors hacked through crowds of defenders, pausing only long enough to wrench skulls free before pressing onward. Chainaxes blurred through the smoke-filled air, carving red arcs through bodies and leaving trails of gore hanging in their wake. By the time resistance began to collapse, dozens of fresh trophies already swung from the armour of the advancing Berzerkers. To an outside observer they appeared less like soldiers and more like executioners racing one another to fill an invisible tally.

Mordrek himself stood at the centre of the carnage, roaring with laughter as blood drenched his armour. His recently reattached arm functioned perfectly, the work of the warband's Apothecary hidden beneath fresh layers of scar tissue and crude surgical staples. He flexed the limb repeatedly between kills, revelling in the strength flowing through it. Each swing of his chainaxe felt heavier, more powerful than the last. 

The air itself seemed thick with Khorne's favour. Every skull taken, every life ended, fed an intoxicating sensation building within him. It felt as though a giant hand rested upon his shoulder, urging him onward. 

Mordrek welcomed it gladly. 

He had long ceased questioning whether such feelings were real or merely the madness of the Nails.

Around him the Skullclaimers fought with growing ferocity as that same bloody momentum swept through the squad. 

They genuinely believed themselves superior to the other Berzerker bands aboard the Wrath of Nuceria. 

The Red Wake obsessed over old grudges and void-war traditions. 

The Brass Hounds gloried in blunt-force slaughter. 

The Broken Nails wrapped themselves in unsettling rituals. 

Only the Skullclaimers, in their own eyes, truly understood the purpose of battle. Khorne cared not for excuses, boasts or clever plans. He cared for skulls. And no squad aboard the cruiser gathered more than they did. Every chain hanging from their armour served as proof of that fact.

*****

The World Eaters project continues with the second squad of Berzerkers now finished. I am enjoying painting the force and I am busy organising a game for them, which is driving impetus to keep painting.

So, Squad Mordrek - the Skullclaimers, hit the completed pile.
Whilst sticking with the dark red like before with the Red Wake, I introduced a fair bit of bone-white onto this unit, especially on their shoulder pads. But also on random panels across the squad members, like I did with the black panels on the previous squad.
Whilst this introduces individuality to the models and across the squads, it also plays a practical purpose. As there are FOURTY Berzerker models in the army, when they make it into close combat, it allows identifying of each unit quickly from three feet away, the average distance one views a game from after all.

So in theory, it should keep the game moving, as well as looking cool and playing into the Lore of the Butcher Horde, being made up of remnant units ripped from broken warbands and forged into a somewhat coherent, if dysfunctional fighting force.

The main bulk of everything finished so far, the Red Wake on the left, the Skullclaimers on the right and the Master of Executions* Vekkar Thrice-Slain, in the middle.

Next I have the screenshot of the army from the Progress app I am using to track progress, I cannot get a screenshot with the main percentage, but the app tells me I am now 33% through painting this army!

To put it in a visual perspective, I laid out the entire army and wrote out some nametags so that we can see who everyone is and where everyone belongs. You may have to zoom in to read them all.

Progress is being definitely made. I am working on writing the background to the game I want to do to field these boys for the first time once they're all done (Angron and Kharn the Betrayer may not take part in it, but they will eventually hit the field).
I haven't totalled up the points costs for this army yet, as I need to work it out for my favoured 5th edition 40k, but also for the 2019 edition of Apocalypse.
My Element Games group is planning a spectacle of a game involving our Chaos forces versus an Imperial force, if we can pull it off mind.

But that is not until next summer as we plan on not only making the armies for the game, but also the terrain for the battlefield as several sets at Element Games do look a little tired and we want to make a statement.

I'll be back next time with the Brass Hounds, the third Berzerker squad completed, and most of the meat of the army done.

Until next time, have nice day....

*****

As the last organised resistance collapsed, Mordrek climbed atop the wreckage of a burning transport vehicle and raised a freshly severed head high above the battlefield. His warriors gathered around him, their armour slick with blood and decorated with new trophies. The chain of skulls hanging from his waist rattled as he laughed. 

Somewhere in the distance he could hear the vox traffic of other elements of the warband still fighting through the city, but his thoughts turned immediately to Targuul Draeg. The memory of their interrupted duel ignited fresh anger. Even now he imagined the other champion finding fault in something, grumbling about territory, trophies or perceived slights.

"Weakness," Mordrek snarled, squeezing the severed head until bone cracked beneath his gauntlet. "Always complaints. Always excuses."

The Skullclaimers roared their agreement.

Mordrek stretched his reattached arm again, revelling in the strength surging through it. The favour of Khorne felt undeniable, surrounding him like a storm visible only to the chosen. In his mind there could be only one explanation. 

Draeg complained because he lacked conviction. 

He challenged because he lacked certainty. 

He envied because he lacked worth. 

The Blood God rewarded action, not grievance. As the battlefield burned around him and chains laden with fresh skulls clattered against his armour, Mordrek became more certain than ever that the day would come when the Red Wake finally pushed too far. 

When that day arrived, he intended to add Targuul Draeg's skull to the longest chain he owned!

*****

*Yes, I know I already did a post about the converted Master of Executions, however he is going to get another short post, as I have rewritten his lore and tied him properly to this army. Rather then the scattershot, paint anything and work it all out later approach I was using before.