Lure of the Gods - Part 2, Valkia the Bloody.

She was a blade given wings, a living decree of slaughter cast into the sky by Khorne. Valkia the Bloody soared above the warhost, her form clad in dark, rune-etched armour that clung like a second skin, her spear held low as though she might at any moment plunge from the heavens and skewer the unworthy. Her wings beat in slow, thunderous strokes, scattering the air with the stink of iron and old blood, while around her wheeled a shrieking flock of furies—daemonic wretches whose clawed limbs stretched hungrily toward the world below. Valkia’s gaze swept the marching host with cold disdain. She felt no pride, no warmth, only the measured anticipation of violence yet to come. These warriors were offerings, nothing more—coin to be spent in the great tally of skulls. If they died well, she might remember them. If not, they would vanish into the endless anonymity of the slain.

From her height, the army revealed its true shape: not a single force, but a writhing mass of rival hungers bound together by conquest. To the east marched a host marked by impossible colours and shifting forms, their armour shimmering with hues that hurt the eye—a warband sworn to Tzeentch, their ranks unnaturally ordered, their banners flickering as though caught between moments. Beyond them, vast and grim, advanced the core of the invasion—a great host pledged to no single god, its banners bearing the mark of Chaos Undivided, marching beneath the iron will of the warhost’s unseen master. Around and between these pillars drifted other cults and lesser warbands, flickers of movement and colour that even Valkia’s keen sight could not fully unravel. She cared little for them. Let them scheme, let them bargain and betray. In the end, all would feed the same red end.

Her attention sharpened as motion broke the rhythm below—a violent, surging force that even from the sky could not be ignored. There, a wedge of daemonic cavalry tore across the field, Juggernauts of Khorne pounding the earth with each thunderous stride. Brass hides gleamed like fresh-spilled blood in the sun, their maws belching fire, their horns carving furrows in the ground as they charged. Upon their backs rode heavily armoured warriors, chosen of the Blood God, their forms rigid with purpose as they drove onward without pause or mercy. An unfortunate band of undivided marauders strayed into their path—there was no slowing, no warning. The Juggernauts crashed through them, bodies breaking beneath iron-shod hooves, men crushed into the mud as though they had never been. Valkia watched, and for the briefest moment something like approval flickered across her features. Not for the dead, nor for the riders—but for the purity of it. The charge did not falter. It never would.

*****

The Lure of the Gods continues apace and a vaunted legend of the Chaos Wastes arrives in the army.

I have had this miniature since she was released in fine cast, way back around 2011-12(?).

She's been dug out and based, pulled off that base and rebased, and then most recently pulled off another round base and added to this 30mm square base, to use in The Old World.

Her Shield disappeared a long time ago, but I feel she looks better without it to be honest.

Her Spear and open hand are taken from an Elf kit, a Dark Eldar maybe, and that's about the extent of fixing her after years of languishing.

There is however, a metal pin sticking up through the base up to her bent knee to keep her together on the thin resin section.

Again I don't think that's bad for an almost 15 year old Finecast Miniature.

Painting followed the same scheme as.the Marauders from he last entry, and the flames from the Word Bearers Praetor I posted a bit back.

Her wings were an experiment with shades over a Pallid Wych Flesh basecoat.

Starting closest to her arms, I began with Seraphim Sepia, then wet blended it into Carroburg Crimson and ending with Druchii Violet, again wet blended on the wings.

A better photo of her spear and the colour mixing on her wings.

Tabletop wise, because she isn't in the game, I field her as the following:

Valkia the Bloody - 250 points.

Exalted Champion, Heavy Armour, Mark of Chaos, Daemonic Mount, Hellforged Axe, Spellshield and Enchanting Aura.

The Hellforged Axe gives her a bunch of extra attacks which are magical, flaming and have Armourbane. The Daemonic Mount gives her the flying ability and an extra couple of attacks.

The Spellshield gives her a ward save against magical attacks and spells, and the Enchanting Aura gives her Always Strikes First.

Everything is very fitting for her lorewise and fits the feel of the old character. She's just a little spendy at 250 points by herself, but such is life.

She's a hit hard and hit first character and if the enemy is still standing afterwards, then she can tank their attacks pretty reliably.

Currently I am working on a unit of Chaos Warriors, I may decide to work up a second unit of KHORNE Marauders as I have the models, or even one of Furies if I can get ahold of the models reasonably.

Out next Element Games meet up isn't until mid May, so I'm hoping to have a few more units finished before then.

The march of Chaos continues ever onwards.

Until next time, have nice day...

Lure of the Gods - Part 1, Khornate Marauders.

 

They came south in a red tide, one knot of killers among many beneath the unseen will of their Marauder King, a name spat with reverence and fear around the fire but never spoken lightly. This band called themselves the Gorebound, oath-sworn to Khorne and hungry for the skulls of softer lands. Their furs were stiff with old blood, their shields hacked from a dozen raids, their laughter edged with something feral and expectant. Among the three marauder hosts that rode within the warband, the Gorebound were the most fractious—quick to boast, quicker to draw steel—but even they knew enough to give space to the ironclad Warriors and the King’s chosen. There were hierarchies here, written in scars and enforced in sudden, terminal violence.

At their fore strode Kargun Red-Spear, Deathbringer of the Gorebound, a broad-shouldered reaver whose weapon had been hammered from a looted southern pike and reforged into something brutal and inelegant. He fought from the front ranks on foot, disdaining the saddle in favour of the crush, where his reach could drag enemies down into the press. His beard was bound in copper rings taken from fallen champions, and his eyes burned with a constant, low fury that never quite found release. Kargun did not waste words; he let the tally of his kills speak, and none in the tribe could match the quiet, methodical savagery with which he harvested skulls for the Blood God.

Beside him marched Hroda Chain-Banner, the standard bearer, dragging aloft a pole crowned with a snarling brass rune of Khorne, hung with lengths of chain and skulls that clattered with every step. The banner stank of iron and rot, and men fought harder beneath it, as though the god’s gaze pressed down through its crude icon.

The warhorn fell to Skeln Red-Breath, a scarred marauder whose lungs seemed touched by something unclean. When he sounded the horn, it was not merely a call to advance—it was a bellow that clawed at the mind, a sound that drove men to reckless fury or froze them where they stood. Veins bulged along his neck with every blast, his eyes rolling white as the warband surged in answer.

Close by lingered Yrsa Blood-Whisper, the tribe’s shaman, her presence a tolerated blasphemy in a host that worshipped slaughter above all else. She spoke to the spirits of the slain and painted her visions in arterial red, guiding the warband toward battles where the blood would flow thickest. Garruk trusted her only as far as her visions pleased the god they served.

Behind these figures came the mass of the marauders themselves—bare-armed killers with axes and flails, their flesh marked by ritual scars and fresh wounds alike. They fought not as a disciplined army, but as a tide driven forward by rage and the promise of worthy death. They marched and bickered alongside the other two marauder bands, trading insults and threats that sometimes spilled into brief, vicious duels before discipline—of a sort—reasserted itself. Yet when the Warriors drew near, all three bands fell silent, their bravado guttering in the shadow of those towering killers. And when the skies split with the beating of daemonic wings, even Kargun paused. High above, wreathed in the promise of carnage, soared Valkia the Bloody, consort of the Blood God, her passage a shriek of brass and slaughter. The Gorebound fell to their knees or howled her name to the heavens, exultant and terrified in equal measure. To be seen by her was to be marked, they believed—either for glory beyond mortal reckoning, or a death so violent it would echo in the halls of Khorne forever.

*****

I mentioned at the beginning of the year that we had had a few tester games of The Old World and had quite enjoyed the system and wanted to play more regularly, I also mentioned that one of my Hobby Goals for the year was to get at least 1,500 points of Warriors of Chaos finished and up to snuff for the tabletop so our games didn't look so shit all the time.

Well, this is the first part of the ongoing "Lure of the Gods" series I am starting as I catalogue what units I get finished, or detail any particularly noteworthy builds/conversions/etc which I think may be useful to keep track of moving forwards.

So, what have I actually done?

I have started with this unit of eighteen Khorne aligned Marauder Warriors using the Age of Sigmar Bloodreavers as the choice as i had about sixty of them in my collection (I bought up a bunch of cheap first edition starter sets when Age of Sigmar was first released).

There are eighteen Marauders, because there is a Sorceror on foot in the front rank (second from the left)and there will be either an Aspiring Champion or a Battle Standard Bearer in the gap in the front rank.

Seen from above:

Traditionally most Marauder units have been painted with very pale white skin and blonde hair, these are meant to be the Norse Vikings of Warhammer afterall, but I decided I wanted to try the skin tones to utilise the brilliant flesh colours GW produce now.

Bloodreaver Flesh.

Catachan Flesh.

Guilliman Flesh.

The armour plates Re black and highlighted with Leadbelcher, this will become the standard across the entire army, and then each God Favoured section with has splashes of a colour associated with their deity.

And a couple of glamour photos:

If you look at the Champions Spear wraps, the talismans on the Sorceror and the various straps and loincloths on the models, the spot colour is Sigvald Burgundy, washed with Earthshade.

This gives me a second spot colour which will tie the army together across the different ideas for armour colour I have.

Some closeups of the various ranks:

The Front Rank, with Command and Sorceror:

The Second Rank:

The Third Rank:

The Fourth Rank:

I'll be honest in that I have absolutely no idea if the army I am building will be reasonable on the tabletop.

(Yes it is nice to win, but I'd much rather have a very cool looking army first).

I have a few things coming up for this army soon, so the Lure of the Gods will return.

Until next time, have nice day...

The Solar Watch, part 7 - Shield Captain Aurelian Valoris Threxian Kallastor.

 

What had once been a cathedral of command and control, tiered cogitator banks, brass-railed balconies, the hanging sigils of the Administratum, was now a hollowed wound of black glass and fused metal. 

The blast had not simply destroyed; it had unmade. Surfaces ran like wax. Stone had flowed. Steel had wept.

Ash drifted in slow, lazy spirals through the airless chamber, disturbed only by the heavy, deliberate tread of auramite boots.

They stood at the centre of it.
Golden figures in a dead place.
The Custodians.

At the forefront, Shield-Captain Aurelian Valoris Threxian Kallastor stood motionless, his guardian spear grounded before him, both hands resting upon its haft. His helm was mag-locked at his waist, his bare head lifted slightly, watching the kneeling figure at the center of their formation.

Around him, his forces held a perimeter without needing to be told. Wardens stood like statues of judgement. Venetarii hovered in silent arcs above the fractured galleries, their wings whispering faintly in the stillness. The Vexilus-Praetor planted the standard into a seam of cracked obsidian, where it stood unmoving, despite the faint, unnatural wind that coiled through the ruin.

And at the heart of it, Prima-Legate Kalimak Augustus Solthnar.

The black-armoured giant was utterly still, knelt with one gauntleted hand pressed flat against the warped floor. The obsidian sheen of his Allarus plate drank the light around him, broken only by veins of molten gold that seemed to pulse faintly beneath its surface. His head was bowed.

Listening. Invisibily Reaching.

The air around him trembled. 

Not to mortal senses. But to those present—those forged to stand in the Emperor’s shadow—it was undeniable. A pressure. A distortion. Like the moment before a storm breaks.

Aurelian watched him, unblinking.
“Report,” the Shield-Captain said at last.

Solthnar did not immediately respond.
When he did, his voice came as a layered thing. One tone was his own—deep, measured, absolute. The other… was not. It echoed beneath the first, like something vast speaking through a narrow channel.

“He lives,” Solthnar said.
A ripple passed through the assembled Custodians. Subtle. Contained. But there.
Aurelian did not move.

“Clarify.”

Solthnar slowly rose to his full height. As he did, the air seemed to ease, like a held breath released.

“Yor’Tar Dawne was present at the moment of detonation,” he said. “At the epicentre.”
His helm turned slightly, as if regarding something only he could see—some imprint left behind in the immaterial.

“He did not die.”

Aurelian’s eyes narrowed, fractionally.
“Impossible.”

"No,” Solthnar replied. “Worse.”
A pause, then the second voice spoke.
“He was taken.”

The word lingered in the ruined chamber like a toxin.
Aurelian’s grip tightened, just enough for the auramite of his gauntlet to creak softly against the haft of his spear.
“Explain.”

Solthnar stepped forward, the heavy tread of his Terminator plate echoing like distant thunder.
“This was not a detonation in the conventional sense,” he said. “It was a breach event. A forced translation point. The destruction you see—” he gestured with one clawed gauntlet to the vitrified expanse around them “—is residue. Displacement. The consequence of something being pulled through.”

“And Dawne?” Aurelian asked.

Solthnar’s gaze lifted.
“Anchored.”
Silence followed.
Cold. Absolute.
“He resisted,” Solthnar continued. “He fought. I can see the imprint of it—the psychic backlash. He wounded whatever reached for him. But in doing so…” He paused.
“He gave it purchase.”

Aurelian took a single step forward.
“Speak plainly, Legate.”

Solthnar met his gaze fully now. There was something in his eyes—not doubt. Not fear.
Recognition.
“Yor’Tar Dawne is no longer within realspace,” he said. “But neither is he lost.”
A beat.
“He has been drawn into the interstice. The space between.”

A murmur of static crackled across the vox-net as several Custodians instinctively tightened their formation.
Aurelian did not react.
“Then he is as good as dead.”

“No,” Solthnar said again, more sharply this time. “He is contested.”
That word landed differently.

Aurelian studied him.
“By what?”

For the first time, Solthnar hesitated.
It was infinitesimal. A fraction of a second. But to the Custodes, it was as loud as a gunshot.
When he answered, the second voice beneath his own seemed to deepen.
“Something that should not be here,” he said. “Something that remembers the Siege.”
The temperature in the chamber seemed to drop, frost crawled along surfaces from around Solthnar's armoured feet..

Aurelian’s expression hardened.
“Then this is a continuation,” he said. “Not an isolated incursion.”

“Yes.”
They stood in silence for a moment, two giants at the edge of comprehension.

Then Aurelian turned away.
“Formations will adjust,” he said, his voice carrying effortlessly across the chamber. “We are not committing full strength to this ruin.”

That drew a reaction.
Solthnar stepped forward, the servos of his armour snarling softly.
“You would withdraw?” he said. There was no disbelief in his tone—only a rising, dangerous intensity. “At the point of convergence?”

“I would refuse the enemy’s design,” Aurelian replied, without turning.

“This is the breach site,” Solthnar pressed. “The anchor point. Every thread leads here.”

“Then it is a lure.”

The two turned to face one another fully now.
Gold and black.
Auramite and obsidian.
Two expressions of the Emperor’s will—aligned in purpose, divergent in method.

“You presume much,” Solthnar said.

“I infer,” Aurelian replied. “From ten thousand years of war.”

“And I know,” Solthnar snapped, a flicker of that other voice bleeding through, “what stirs beyond the veil. This is not a game of positioning, Shield-Captain. This is a wound. You do not ignore a wound.”

“No,” Aurelian said evenly. “You cauterise it.”

A beat.
“Or you allow the infection to draw your hand.”
The words hung between them like drawn blades.
Around them, the Custodians stood utterly still. No one intervened. No one could.
This was not a dispute of rank.
This was doctrine.

Solthnar took another step forward.
“The Ordo Sinister felt this before your augurs stirred,” he said. “We traced the convulsion to this world. The pattern is here.”

“And yet,” Aurelian countered, “the architect is not.”
Silence.
Aurelian inclined his head slightly, just enough to acknowledge the Legate—not as subordinate, but as equal.
“Herath fled Terra to come here,” he said. “Why? To die beneath our blades? No. To complete something.”
His gaze swept the ruined chamber.
“This hive was sacrificed. Deliberately. A signal flare in the immaterium. A declaration.”
He looked back to Solthnar.
“If we commit everything to this corpse of a city, we do precisely what the enemy intends.”

Solthnar said nothing.
But the tension in him shifted.
Minutely.
“What would you propose?” he asked at last.

Aurelian did not hesitate.
“We divide the blade.”
He turned, gesturing with his spear.
“Strike element to descend. Hunt Herath. Confirm the status of Dawne if possible.” His gaze flicked briefly to the Allarus. “They will not fail.”
A slight inclination of helms acknowledged the order.
“Containment force establishes perimeter. Nothing leaves this site. Nothing emerges.”
The Wardens tightened formation, the Vexilus banner snapping once in the unseen wind.

“And you?” Solthnar asked.

Aurelian met his gaze.
“I do not fight where the enemy expects me to.”
A pause.
“I hunt the next breach.”

For a long moment, Solthnar said nothing.
Then, slowly, he inclined his head.
Not submission.
Not agreement.
Acceptance.
“Very well, Shield-Captain Aurelian Valoris Threxian Kallastor,” he said. “We will proceed… your way.”
The second voice whispered beneath the first:
“For now.”

Aurelian gave a single, sharp nod.
“Then we are agreed.”
He turned, his voice rising to command once more.
“Prepare for immediate redeployment. Venetarii—ascend. We take to the upper strata.”

Solthnar paused.
Just for a fraction of a second, as though listening.
A flicker of something—brief, distant, wrong—passed across his senses.
His eyes narrowed.

*****

More Adeptus Custodes....unheard of really.

The Solar Watch reached a milestone recently as i had a week of leave off from work and set down to finish off a few things which have been staring at me part painted*.

We visited Element Games Stockport again and Fraser asked for the army back.

I set too finishing the last bits I needed to, to make the force playable in total.

So, the main focus was Shield Captain Aurelian Valoris Threxian Kallastor.

A Forge World model and a very nice casting at that i must admit.

Once I had gotten into the swing of painting the Solar Watch again, he was very enjoyable to paint and I finished him as the other guys were attempting to play a very ambitious game of Horus Heresy 3rd edition**.

He uses all the techniques I've described through the other posts about the Custodes.

The off-white armour, red and gold detailing, a regal purple cloak to mark him out from his company.

The onnly thing I couldn't do at Element was to add Grass Tufts to the base, but the next time I'm over st Frasers I can do that in less then five minutes.

A close up of his face,  which I was pleased with for how simple it was.

A layer of Palid Wych Flesh and then a wash with Flesh shade and a tiny bit of Earthshade in the deepest recesses like his eyes and mouth.

His hair and the metallic patch on the side of his head was giving me Josh Brolin vibes from Deadpool 2 when he played Cable, if the model would have had a Bionic Eye, I would have painted it a bright yellow to really double down on tbe image.

Finally, before we left Element, I grabbed a few pieces of terrain and organised a couple of army photos, as seen here.

The main bulk of the army with the Shield-Captain, Sword-Champions, Allarus Terminators and a squad of Custodian Guard.

Another small squad of Custodian Guard, a Vexilus-Praetor and a Squad of Custodian Wardens.

And Legate-Prima Solthnar on the far right, contrasting in his Black Armour.

The force isn't quite finished, as there are two more Allarus Terminators and two more Custodian Guard to finish when I next visit.

But the bulk of the remainder, six Ventarii, I still have to work on, so they'll be the focus of the next post on this force.

I also hope to get a few photos of the army without the light bleed from Element Games next time as well.

Until next time, have nice day...

*more varied posts to come soon...I hope.

**I am hoping to take part in a smaller game of 3rd edition HH next time, in a 'learn the rules' type affair.

Once we've done that I'll post my thoughts about it compared to my beloved 1st edition.

Word Bearers Praetor Malach Varn.

 “Ashes of Iax”

The sky above Iax burned the colour of old bruises.

Praetor Malach Varn strode through drifting ash, and the fields of once-perfect Ultramar lay trampled beneath the boots of the XVII Legion. The agri-spires that had fed a hundred systems were aflame, their sacrifices rendered up to thirsting gods of darkness.

His Tartaros Terminator armour growled with each step.

Not the clean whirr of loyalist plate—but a predatory, grinding snarl, as if the ceramite itself resented stillness. Pistons flexed like sinew beneath crimson lacquer. Scripture crawled across every plate in burning runes, lit by the brazier mounted upon his shoulders. Its fire guttered but did not diminish, fed by oils rendered from sacrifices offered before planetfall.

Before him stood the sons of Guilliman.
A shieldwall of Ultramarines advanced through the orchard ruins— Tactical squads formed disciplined firing ranks while a Contemptor Dreadnought strode at their centre, its fists crackling with power fields.

“Word Bearers,” came the vox-hail, calm and clipped. “In the name of the XIII Legion, for the crimes against Calth and Ultramar, stand down and be judged.”

Varn laughed. The sound boomed from his helm grille, layered with a second voice beneath it—something older and wet with mirth, as the brazier burst into renewed flame in challenge.
“Judgement has already come,” he replied.

*****

Having a Horus Heresy moment finishing off this Word Bearers Praetor for a friend.

He'd done most of the work but didn't want to attempt the flames and was going to paint them black as smoke, I offered and the result is here.

When I next visit Duncan, probably for our next Element Games Stockport meet up, I'll have to make sure to take a few photos of his entire Word Bearers Legion, as he's got quite a bit finished.

*****

The Ultramarines opened fire.

Bolter shells struck his armour in disciplined volleys. Ceramite flared, scripture ignited and burned brighter where rounds impacted. The Tartaros plate snarled as it absorbed the punishment, servos howling as Varn surged forward through the storm.

His combi-bolter barked in reply—mass-reactive detonations punching through blue armour, precise and unhurried. An Ultramarine fell.

At thirty metres, he triggered the melta.

Sunfire lanced out. The Contemptor’s torso became incandescent ruin. Adamantium ran like wax; the Dreadnought staggered, reactor screaming, before collapsing into the orchard in a wash of molten slag.

Still the XIII held formation.

Varn met them at the irrigation canal.

His crozius fell.

Warp-flame roared outward in a hungry arc. An Ultramarine sergeant raised his power sword to parry; the blade shattered on impact, and the crozius crushed helm and skull in a single, contemptuous blow. The brazier-fire flared in answer, as if fed by the death.

A second Ultramarine drove a combat blade into the joint at Varn’s waist. The Tartaros armour shrieked in outrage. Varn seized the warrior by the throat and lifted him one-handed. 

He crushed the loyalist’s gorget and cast the body aside.

The remaining Ultramarines closed, disciplined to the last. A bolt round found a candle and extinguished it, a second found a dent in his armour, for a moment, the Praetor staggered.

Wax and blood mixed beneath his boots.

Then the crozius blazed white-hot.

The flames leapt from weapon to brazier, from brazier to the scriptures carved across his plate. The runes ignited like a constellation. The air grew thick, trembling with unseen syllables.

The Ultramarines hesitated.

That was enough.

Fire exploded outward in a halo of empyric heat. Blue armour blackened and split. Three warriors fell at once, their forms wreathed in unearthly flame that did not consume flesh so much as unmake it.

Silence settled over the orchard.

The agri-fields burned.

Praetor Malach Varn stood amidst the dead, armour grinding as he turned toward the distant spires of Iax’s primary hive. The brazier atop his shoulders guttered low, then flared anew as if inhaling the smoke of the battlefield.

“Let Guilliman reap what he has sown,” he murmured.

Behind him, the Word Bearers advanced through fire and ash, chanting litanies that rolled across the dying fields of Ultramar like a second, darker harvest.

*****

Until next time, have nice day...

The Solar Watch, part 6 - Prima-Legati Kalimak Augustus Solthnar.

 

The Incarnadine Angel burned through the void like a lance of gold and ivory. The Custodes aboard were grim and silent — they had seen daemonic incursion upon the Throneworld itself, and now they were racing to the next contagion point in the solar system. Yet what waited for them on Mercury was not mere cultist insurrection.

When the Incarnadine Angel reached Mercury orbit, they found an obsidian gunship already docked at the primary voidlock of the Command Hive. Black as voidstone, marked with faint gold script in High Gothic, the craft bore no Imperial heraldry, only the sigil of the Ordo Sinister, a single Roaring Lion's head rendered in burnished Silver.

From its ramp stepped Kalimak Augustus Solthnar.

He was massive even by Custodian standards — his Allarus Terminator armour black as volcanic glass, the gold of his Auramite gleaming like veins of captured sunlight through obsidian fractures. His faceplate was an archaic design, filigreed and covering his nose and mouth, his eyes bare which glowed with latent psychic energy. When Custodian-Serjant Gallimadean Calax and Vexilla Sanish greeted him in the Docking Hall, they felt the psychic weight of his presence before he spoke.

"Prima-Legati Solthnar, your arrival was not recorded on fleet auspex." Vexilla Sanish’s tone was respectful, but wary.

"It was not meant to be.", The voice that issued from the Terminator’s vox-grille was a deep, harmonic resonance, not entirely his own. The Ordo Sinister felt the convulsion before even your augurs did. The weave of the Astronomican shivered. We have traced the psychic pulse to this world. You will give me your data-streams and command-code access to your auspex relays."

Sanish hesitated. "With respect, the Ordo Sinister is not of the Talons’ chain of—"

"Enough," Solthnar interrupted. "Your duty is to the Emperor’s Will. I am its executor."

Even among the Ten Thousand, there are some whose authority transcends rank. Solthnar was such a being. As Equerry to the Collegia Sinister, he spoke with the voice of the Emperor’s darkest sanction, of which few knew of during the Heresy and fewer still knew of in these dark days of ending.

*****

Fools have asked 'why did the Dark Age of Technology end in the fall of Humanity?', and other fools answer back 'Folly' or 'Pride' or 'The Worship of Progress' as if these things alone have any meaning. 

The reason, the wise know is simple.

It is because finally Humanity had the arts at their disposal to make their dreams reality, and the dreams of Humanity have ever been the darkest things in all creation.

- Introduction to the Emerald Testament - A Treatise of Ancient Psi-Weapons, Suppressed work of Techo-Archaeologist Saran Brooke, M39.

*****

IT's been a while since I visited the hallowed halls of the Custodes, but with a surge of enthusiasm I am working towards clearing things off the paint table and after a rough few days I took an "easy win" option.

Prima Legati Solthnar was mostly finished just after the turning of the year, and has only needed layering up and highlighting to finish.

He is based off of this piece of character concept artwork* I found on Pinterest:

I added flair to my model with a bit of red and silver and the bright blue gems to add a spot of colour against the black, gold and purple:

If I'd have had the spare parts I would have added in the power sword like in be artwork, but I'm happy with the finished model.

More photo's:

The fur is taken from the old Space Wolf Terminator kit and mushed together to make a larger pelt, and the various chains attached to him were a flair I added when kitbashing**.

You may be asking yourself what is the "Ordo Sinister" and why is Solthnar the Equerry to them?

The Ordo Sinister are the most horrific weapons which the Emperor created during the Great Crusade in the Warlord Psi-Titans, piloted by a psychic blank princeps and crewed by enforced psykers who use their souls as ammunition. 

They could only be ordered to deploy by the Emperor's direct command.

As for Solthnar being their Equerry in the 41st Millennium?

The Psi-Titans were secured in their fortresses underneath the Imperial Palace at the end of the Heresy, and to very limited knowledge, they are still there, eating for the Emperor's command, one trustworthy Custodes is given the job of Equerry to the Ordo, to ensure nothing and no-one gains access to the hidden weapons.

He'll just be a standalone character, I may build a second version of the character at some point in the future, see if I can kitbash a bit better, rather then just a quick job which I did here.

I also want to build a Psi-Knight if I can find a decent looking gun arm to 3D print.

Until next time, have nice day...

*Orniris.com does a shedload of artwork like this which can be found in various places on the internet, I just really liked this particular character.

**Originally I had planed on having had him break the chains of the Ordo Sinister vaults in he story, hence the addition of them to the model, then decided to change it up and add it to the ongoing Custodes story I started a bit ago.

Death Korps of Krieg, Lord Marshal Dreir.

 

TRANSCRIBED VOX-LOG

SOURCE: Krieg Line Officer, Trench Delta-Seven

STATUS: Deceased (Confirmed)

RECOVERY: Post-Action Sweep, +3 Days

DATA INTEGRITY: Partial / Acceptable

-----

I am recording this in accordance with regulation.

At 04:16 siege-time, Lord Marshal Dreir advanced past our position at the head of the Death Riders. 

He did not slow. This was efficient. 

The mount ES819 showed structural damage but remained combat-capable. 

The Sabre of Sacrifice was visible and unblemished at that time.

We maintained fire as ordered. One rider was killed by overshoot from our right flank battery. No correction was issued. Ammunition expenditure took precedence.

Enemy resistance increased at 04:18. 

Volume of fire exceeded prior engagements but lacked coordination. Two cavalry elements were lost before contact. Their absence did not alter the advance.

The collision occurred at approximately 04:22. Enemy morale collapsed immediately upon impact. Cultist personnel were neutralised by sabre strikes, trampling, and compression against urban debris. The sounds were consistent with prior close-assault actions.

Lord Dreir did not vocalise commands. He did not hesitate. The Sabre of Sacrifice functioned as intended. I observed the blade destroy several enemy fighters.

At 04:30, the avenue was cleared. Fires continued. The dead obstructed movement and were used as cover by advancing infantry.

Lord Dreir halted at the far terminus of the avenue and turned to face the approach. He remained stationary, I estimate forty to fifty seconds. This observation has no tactical relevance.

We were ordered forward to entrench at 04:44. Shovels were distributed. Where ground was insufficient, bodies were utilised. Enemy and Krieg remains were of equal utility.

I was assigned to the third digging rotation.

-----

ARCHIVAL NOTE:

The officer’s body was recovered in Trench Delta-Seven with entrenching tool in hand. Cause of death: secondary bombardment. The position was lost again two days later.

NO FURTHER ACTION REQUIRED

*****

Just like that we're a week into 2026, and also just like that the first mini of 2026 is finished!

Granted this mini has been part painted since about November, but with a quiet night, I decided to buckle down and get him finished.

Lord Marshal Drier is the named character for the Death Korps of Krieg, a mounted cavalry commander and the regiments equivalent of Lord Solar Leontus*.

Here is the finished mini:

For the greatcoat and armour, etc, I followed my regular DKoK scheme, with Vallejo French Mirage Blue making up the blue-grey colouring of the greatcoat.

He has a lot more colour on him then the regular Death Korps, simply because he is a senior officer, so I went with a nice rich burgundy-purple-pink to contrast well with the drab blue-grey of the main army.

Stupid and unrealistic I know, but this is 40k...

The gas mask for both horse and rider was started with the usual Khaki, but I went different on this one and washed it with Seraphim Sepia, it adds a weathered appearance to me and makes him look more like a veteran**

ES819, the mount, started as Ironrach Skin.

I then used the washes Seraphim Sepia, Ireland Flesh shade and Druchii Violet to shade the mount.

Sepia at the top, Felshshade in the center and Violet below the knees.

I worked fast getting these onto the model, and then used a damp brush to wet blend the colours into each other, the first time I have ever tried to use this technique.

His base got the usual urban theming for Frasers army, and a few broken pipes, when I get another box of skulls, I'll paint a few and go back and add one or two to his base to really fit into 40k***

I Know Drier was in my "Bonus Projects" list for the year, but he was part finished, it was late at night when I managed to sit down to paint**** and he was the first thing on the top of the workbench I picked up.

Doesn't matter, he's finished and another model for Frasers army down.

Until next time, Have nice day...

*I think, I don't play 10th edition 40k.

**I tried this on the infantry I've been working through, but with different shades of highlights and different brown's/Khaki's as basecoats for equipment, it's subtle but i think it shows the different ages of gear on the regiment, as some are newer than others for replacement troopers.

***SKULLS! SKULLS EVERYWHERE! 

****I'm back at work full time now, so whilst hobby time is available, I've got to get back into the swing of sectioning out time for myself around other things at home.

400th post, and 2026 (hopeful) plans.

 

The year turns softly, like a page half-read,

Old doubts grow quiet, loosening their hold.

We carry echoes of the words we said,

But set our gaze on mornings edged in gold.

The clock breathes out, releases what has been,

Its chime a promise more than something old.

Ahead, unmarked, the days wait, clear and clean,

With room for courage, gentler, bright, and bold.

We step together where the future starts,

And find new light still warming patient hearts.

*****

It's 2026, a new year, and hopefully a better year all around for everyone.

Last year, 2025, started hopefully, then slowly dissolved into a long drawn out mess with work and family health issues* taking up time from May onwards.

With the start of a New Year, it's often the point where people say about "New Year, New Me/Army/Project" and then talk about their future plans for the year, etc etc.

I'm aiming for a few small "achievable " things for this year, keeping things simple:

I have Three personal goals for the year:

Goal 1:

To make time to visit Element Games Stockport more often and socialise with my friend group there, and by extension play more games of stuff. 

Just really play more games. 

To that end I am thinking of picking up Talisman next time I go over there, so I can throw that down without too much set up and we can rip through a game.

They are getting into Bloodbowl, which has never grabbed me, but I can get Lion/Dragon Rampant going easily enough, and we've all been bitten by The Old World bug recently...

Speaking of The Old World...

Goal 2:

So, mid December when I visited, we played The Old World, and I have a 1,500 point Warrior of Chaos army built for the same on square bases!

This is only a small section of it, but i have more Chaos Warriors in the wings.

The second goal for the year is to get this all painted up to my tabletop standard, and get it working well on the battlefield.

This is a top project because it's a game which I KNOW I will be able to get games of, whenever I go to Element.

Goal 3:

The third goal, is my Samurai project.

I've faced the fact that the way things are going time wise I won't be able to get the Hail Caesar project off the ground, so I've made the decision to downsize to my favourite rules, Lion Rampant, and drop into Dragon Rampant if I want to field the more mystical Japanese bits I can 3D Print.

Above in the picture is a full size force for Lion Rampant, I just need to print off a suitable Commander figure.

I already have enough troops to put together an opposing force, and all my Sohei can easily be dropped into the game as well.

I would like to get somewhere with this as its a project that's been on and off again for the better part of two years now, and I've an itch to get some gaming in with them.

Bonus Goals:

So the last few things are just projects which have been on the workbench for a while which I would like to see finished.

The first of which is another Platoon and autocannon squad for Frasers Death Korps of Krieg army:

The second is the bits I have collected for my Black Legion army for "Project Eye of Terror", these are an 'if i got the other stuff done' project:

Lastly, a bunch of various characters, Lord Marshal Drier is for Frasers army, the Custodian, Education, Tzeentchian Sorceror and Arbite are all part started which need to be finished, and the orange mini is an oriental type character who could be dropped into the Samurai Dragon Rampant fantasy stuff:

I think these goals are reasonable and more to the point practically achievable** given i don't know what is going to happen time wise this year.

Let's have a good 2026, and I'll post soon.

Until next time, have nice day....

*without too much detail, things aren't back where they were family wise. Personally I hopefully, seem to have fought off most of the Black Dog's influence which dragged me through November and December.

**I could have run through a list of stuff I want to start and would be new projects:

The Red Book of the Elf King and Troll Wars by Lucid Eye.

A 3D printed Leonin force for Dragon Rampant.

Horus Heresy forces.

Crusader and Muslim forces for Lion Rampant.

Warmachine Cygnar, Khador, Llael and Trollblood forces.

Most of this stuff I already have, but no point piling on projects, instead of finishing ones in motion.