The Gloam Wardens
Line Squad | Sworn to Lord Zhal Vohren
The first shell struck the hab-block three floors above them.
Concrete burst across the street in a grey cloud, scattering masonry over the wreckage of an Imperial Chimera. Somewhere behind the barricade, a man screamed for a medic.
Morvec Sath registered the sound before returning his attention to the tactical display projected across his gauntlet.
“Second floor. Left-hand window. Autocannon.”
The heavy bolter answered him. Mass-reactive shells tore through the window, obliterating the frame and chewing a ragged hole into the wall.
Las-fire snapped against the rubble before them.
“Left flank,” said Hadrak.
“I have eyes.”
“Both of them, brother. A rare advantage.”
Sath turned his helmet a fraction.
“Continue talking and I shall see whether your remaining one can be removed without anaesthetic.”
“Then I shall endeavour to make my time count.”
A brief ripple of amusement passed through the squad's vox. It was quiet, almost imperceptible beneath the gunfire, but it was there.
The Imperial commander had evidently decided that remaining behind the barricade was no longer an option. A whistle sounded from somewhere beyond it, followed by a desperate counterattack. Two squads of infantry surged through the smoke, bayonets fixed, shouting the names of their officers and the God-Emperor.
The Gloam Wardens received them without moving.
Their bolters spoke in measured volleys. Men fell in rows. Survivors stumbled over the dead, only to discover that the black-armoured giants had not surrendered a single step of ground.
“Brother Hadrak. Keep their heads down. The rest of you, maintain your intervals.”
“And if they surrender?” asked one of the Legionaries.
Sath studied the barricade.
“We have neither the time nor the inclination for prisoners.”
The heavy bolter opened fire. Its thunder rolled down the avenue, catching two Guardsmen as they broke from cover. Mass-reactive shells tore them apart before they had taken three steps.
“Determined fellows,” Hadrak remarked.
“Poorly advised,” said Veyr.
“Perhaps their commander promised them a medal.”
“Then we are doing him a kindness. There will be fewer men left to disappoint him.”
The vox filled with laughter, brief and dry.
Then Sath heard the unmistakable crack of a sniper rifle.
The round struck the side of his helmet, throwing sparks across his vision. His head turned with the impact, but his armour held. For a moment he remained motionless, allowing his vision to clear while the rest of the squad adjusted their firing arcs.
“Sniper,” he said.
“An excellent shot,” Hadrak observed.
“Veyr.”
“Already looking.”
The plasma gunner adjusted his aim. A pale silhouette shifted behind the broken parapet of a nearby tower.
The gun fired.
The upper storey vanished in a blossom of blue-white energy and tumbling masonry.
Sath advanced.
The Wardens followed in their established formation, stepping over the fallen without a glance. Their fire continued as they moved, each Legionary covering the next with the practised efficiency of warriors who had fought together for centuries.
They did not seek individual victories. They did not break formation to pursue fleeing enemies. Every shot served a purpose. Every movement prepared the next.
“Champion,” Veyr reported, “command identifies a second defensive line beyond the crossroads. Infantry reserves, armour support and a command post. They appear to have mistaken our present activities for the main assault. Shall we request support?”
Sath surveyed the ruined avenue.
“No.”
“Very good.” Veyr paused. “What response should I give?”
“Tell them we are making good progress.”
“And if they ask for details?”
“Tell them the enemy is cooperating.”
Another ripple of laughter passed through the squad.
“That is ambitious, Champion,” Hadrak voxed.
Sath permitted himself the faintest smile beneath his helm.
There were times when he wondered whether his brothers understood the larger purpose of their service.
The Pale Wolf gathered followers, tested their worth and sought to carve his own legend from the corpse of the Imperium. Sath understood that ambition. He shared it.
But he had no intention of remaining a squad champion forever.
One day, the Gloam Wardens would become the nucleus of a warband bearing his name. He would command his own warriors, gather his own trophies and claim victories that could not be attributed to another lord's favour. He would walk the Eightfold Path in his own right, seeking the power and infamy that might one day make him immortal.
For now, he served the Pale Wolf. He fought beside his brothers. He learned.
Beyond the smoke, beyond the broken defences and the dying cries of the Emperor's servants, Morvec Sath could already picture the distant outline of a throne.
It was not yet his.
He had centuries to claim it.
He was in no hurry.
*****
The Gloam Wardens: Squad Complete
Another round of painting has brought a few more “easy victories”, with three more Chaos Space Marines finally finished and off the painting table.
As usual, they follow the established Black Legion colour scheme. It's easy to replicate, relatively straightforward to paint and looks great en masse. Just take a look at the end of this post!
The full squad now looks like this.
One of the newly finished warriors is the chap with the hooked horns on the far left of the photograph. I do enjoy mixing boltguns with chainsword and bolt pistol combinations within my squads. Not only does it add a bit of visual variety, but it also reminds us that Chaos Space Marine squads aren't necessarily organised into the dedicated, single-purpose battlefield roles we tend to associate with their Loyalist counterparts.
Champion Morvec Sath is also sporting a new addition. Standing on the left, he's had a banner attached to his backpack to make up for the one he was missing.
Of course, this also makes an already imposing Chaos Space Marine even taller. Depending on which source you consult, an Astartes stands somewhere around nine feet tall, so perhaps Sath now measures eleven feet in-universe!
Every building must have vaulted ceilings in the 41st Millennium.
The other two finished warriors are the flamer operator and the Legionary on the far right, once again armed with a chainsword and bolt pistol.
I still have the plasma gunner from the accompanying fiction to finish, although he's only been built so far. When I get around to the third Tactical Squad, which will have a rather more aggressive character, I'll swap the plasma gun and flamer between the two units.
That should give the squads a little more individuality, both on the tabletop and in the accompanying fiction.
The Black Legion grows
I also took the opportunity to lay out the modest Black Legion warband as it stands.
The two Tactical Squads occupy the flanks, with the Lupercal's Eyes Havocs in the centre. The three character models I've painted so far stand between them.
From left to right, we have my converted “Definitely Not Huron Blackheart”, a 3D-printed 30k Ezekyle Abaddon, and an Aspiring Champion in Mark III armour.
Originally, my converted Not-Huron was going to be the Chaos Lord in charge of this Black Crusade. However, in true Chaotic fashion, the character has grown somewhat as I've been writing up ideas and making notes about the warband's background.
As a result, I feel compelled to convert a new model for the Lord himself. Not-Huron will instead become his trusted Lieutenant, serving as one of the key figures within the warband's command echelon.
It's funny how these projects develop. Sometimes the lore follows the models; other times, the lore demands entirely new models!
Next up: The Blackmarked
Next on the painting table are Lord Zhal Vohren's Chosen, the Blackmarked.
These are warriors who have drawn the attention of their lord, for better or worse. Whether that attention will prove to be a blessing or a curse remains to be seen.
There are still several units to build and paint before Zhal's warband is complete:
- The Blackmarked Chosen.
- Another Tactical Squad.
- A large squad of Unproven Inductii.
- A Terminator Squad “gifted” by Abaddon.
- The command echelon of characters I've been planning.
And that's before I start thinking about the other forces and allied warbands that will eventually gather beneath the Black Legion's banners.
All told, there's still a fair bit to do!
Nevertheless, the Black Legion grows once again, one squad at a time. And when the crusade finally breaks into realspace, the Imperium will shake to its very core.
Until next time, have a nice day!
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