Monthly Archives: March 2013

To Do: Post a 40K Short Story

Random inspiration. Always fun, right? Here I am painting an Obliterator, when the spark of inspiration sent my brain matter all aflutter. I tried to focus on my painting, but hell, the ink needed to dry, and watching youtube videos just seemed like a waste of time.

So, without further adieu, here is my very very (very) short story, For the Emperor.

 

“His eyes never leave us, brothers. His gaze is ever fixed on his children, watching their deeds and testing their loyalty,” Chaplain Sardomenas said to the congregation of marines surrounding him. Their heads were bowed in heartfelt reverence, each thinking of the coming battle.  “It is in His name that we come to this world to conquer its peoples. Though simple folk led by an imbecile of a governor, their ignorance does not excuse them from impeding His ultimate goal. We will cleanse this world with bolter, sword, and fire. And when our task is done, when every citizen lay cleansed, every rifle silenced, and the idiot governor hung from the tallest tower. When every voice is silenced on Soruu IV, we shall give praise to the Emperor.”

“For the Emperor!” cried the gathering of giants. As one their armored fists began beating the air above them, shouting ever louder their praise to the Immortal God-Emperor. They were all prepared to sell their lives to further his goal, Sardomenas knew, and he was proud to lead them in prayer. Not once had they failed their Emperor on the field of battle. Not once had an enemy escaped their weapons. With every mission, His plans were one step closer to coming to pass.

“Brother Captain Jedah now comes to go over the coming war. Brother Jedah.”

From out of the shadows came a brooding marine of huge stature, undetectable throughout the sermon. His armor, baroque, yet well-tended, barely encased his muscular form. Yet with all his power, his movements were utterly quiet and graceful, as if each step was that of a ghost, not a man. On his left wrist lay an ancient bolter, his left hand rest on a sheathed sword of incredible power. He was a powerful warrior indeed, and his deeds in the name of the Emperor commanded the respect of all his fellows without question. After looking over his gathered warriors, he began to speak.

“Below us lay Soruu IV, a world that spits upon the Emperor’s work. A manufacturing world, toiling night and day to craft tanks for the enemy. Their citizens are unaware of the hurt they cause, having been kept purposefully uneducated in the world around them. At behest of Governor Doln, the factories build every minute of every day. We will no longer stand by while this loathsome creature continues to foul the Emperor’s grand plan.”

“Our sources have successfully infiltrated the working class below, learning from them that this constant strain has the workers on edge, even the most “devout” of the governor’s men. With skill, our brothers have not only gained schematics of each factory from the working class, but also the governor’s mansion itself. Every hallway and defense emplacement is revealed to us.”

“Emperor be praised!” answered the congregation.

“With this information, he have planned a three-stage offensive against the planetary forces. Our agents on the ground will inspire a rebellion in the populace, robbing the governor of his working masses and stopping all production of munitions. When the governor hears of this, he will send his personal guard into quell the uprising. At this point we will send the main attack force into their midst. We know the enemy forces will gather at Manufactorum 187, by far the largest factory where the “rebellion” will make their base of operations. When 187 is surrounded, we will surround the enemy.”

“As this is taking place, myself and Squad Gamma will teleport directly into the governor’s mansion, specifically in the generator room. The provided schematics give us precise knowledge of the room’s size and location. Already a teleport beacon has been hidden amongst the machinations that power the building. We will cut the power to the complex, shutting down all defensive measures, and make our way to the governor’s state room, where we know he will be. We have already ensured all escape craft will be unable to take off. He will see the avatars of his death within a day.”

“The Emperor’s wrath is unstoppable,” answered the gathering.

As soon as the last syllable left Jedah’s vox-grill, Chaplain Sardomenas walked to his side. He gestured to the warriors before him, and all, including Jedah himself, bowed their heads once again in prayer. With their oaths of the moment said allowed, Sardomenas said to them, “The Emperor Protects.”

“The Emperor Protects!” was their reply.

“Go forth brothers,” said Sardomenas in a low, assured voice. “Don your helmets, ready your weapons, and prepare to do the Emperor’s real work.” With that, the gathered Astartes began locking their helmets in pace; some had terrible horns sprouting from the side, others terrible visages meant to strike fear in their enemies. Their armor matched their masks, as every shoulder, gauntlet, and leg was emblazoned with the markings of Chaos.

Sardomenas saluted his Brother Captain. “The men are ready, my lord “Alpharius”, he announced.

“To battle!” roared Alpharius, unsheathing his sword, twisted and writhing with power. “The Emperor’s work be done!”

On the surface of the Imperial world Soruu IV, men and women were living their lives as they always had. They worshipped the God-Emperor in all ways, and built tanks to further his war efforts against the enemies of mankind. Before this day was done, they would be cowering in fear, if they survived the first few hours.

Soon, the voices of their fellow workers would rise up against the Emperor, proclaiming their allegiance to Chaos. The planet’s defense forces would shatter against the Alpha Legion’s perfect assault. The governor, a man devoted to his Emperor, would look upon the world with dead eyes, his entrails tumbling from his opened belly, as he swung from the mansion in which he lived. Those who served the legion well would be saved, of course, but only those who served and had purpose.

Within one day, the Alpha Legion would scour this planet. Not a single voice would cry in pain at the end. Alpharius’ sons would cleanse it in the name of the Emperor, for they alone know the truth; for the Emperor’s dream of destroying Chaos to succeed, he must himself be destroyed. The Alpha Legion would succeed, they knew, for the Emperor protects.


To Do: Update Readers on My Chaos Lord Project

I recently told you all about the heartache of losing my newly created Chaos Lord model. He was my baby, but he decided to move on to greener army cases. I won’t bring up old, painful memories. Instead, I want to show everyone the new new Chaos Lord I just finished. The post from the other day really inspired me to sit down and get this project done, so I did. I also channeled the anger and violent thoughts I had into what I was creating, so the new guy is a bit, uhm, darker, you could say…

AlphariusThe model actually came together a lot faster than the first one, I assume because I had juju flowing through my fingers. That, and I had sort of done this once before, so I had a better understanding of what I was after. There is actually a fair bit more sculpting involved in this model than the previous. Who knew creating intestines would be so difficult? Hahahahahahahahaha.

The scales on the cloack were particularly fun to sculpt and paint, and bring the model together pretty well, in my humble opinion. The love tapped marine he’s abusing is a Disciple of Caliban, and is meant to tie in my upcoming Black Templar ally force in a few short weeks. I did exchange the plasma pistol for a twin-linked bolter, which, gaming wise, doesn’t make a hell of a lot of sense, but all I could think was, “Walk softly, and carry a big gun.” I let my brain matter make the call. As far as games go, I’d probably claim it as a bolt pistol, but who knows.

Before you go any further, yes, I do realize there’s a skull hovering in the air in the last shot. While seating the model on his custom base, I couldn’t get him to quite fit in a way that didn’t take up too much room. I finally got him settled down, but then noticed the hovering skull. Meh, I’ll paint up a piece of rubble and slide it under there. That’ll do the trick. The ole, “Slide a Piece of Rubble Under There” maneuver. That’s all I got. If you have any questions about the model (how did I paint what, where did I find certain bits, does he like Bogart movies, etc), or just want to tell me how bad he sucks, feel free to tweet me @cbmcgames, or comment below. For the Emperor!

To Do: Update Readers on My Chaos Lord Project.

 


To Do: Cope with Loss

There are times in life when words fail us. That, no matter how hard we try, our minds simply cannot form words to express what are emotions bring up in us. I recently had this happen to me

I recently met my good gaming friend Eric for a game of 40k. I was playing another game with my Alpha Legion, and thrilled to be taking on his Dark Eldar (he wiped the floor with me, as a side note). I open my case, and begin to take out my models. I open the case…

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And my chaos lord is missing. I cut out a spot for him, made sure every corner was coddled in a loving way. He was simply not there. I scanned the entire shop, up and down, every corner, nook, and cranny. I asked to inspect other players’ anuses. Denied. I now had a store full of suspects.

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For all intents and purposes, he was gone. I felt wronged, grossly wronged. As it turns out, psychologists have a set of steps that chart the way this made me feel. They call it the seven stages of coping.

Stage One: Shock

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Shocked, I was. In disbelief, I was. Yoda speaking, I did. My world was tossed asunder. Nothing made sense. For all I knew, cats had stolen my model and were now using it as a scratch post, possibly summoning daemons into the world. Who knew! I didn’t. I frantically texted my wife, asking her to scour the house. I questioned every person who walked in the door. I learned that Milli Vanilli lip synced.

Stage Two: Denial

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No, there’s no way this could happen. No way. I’m so downright anal with my models. I open their case just to see if they’ve shifted in bad ways. I bought a display case simply to show them off to absolutely no one that comes over. There’s no way he could be gone.

Stage Three: Bargaining

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I consider myself a believer, and as such, I prayed to the God of my ancestors. And for good measure, I prayed to all the others too. I even Googled deities to cut a deal with. I had a hush hush talk with the Chicago Mafia. Communed with Al Capone’s ghost. Hell, he’s still haunting my apartment. It didn’t work. Now I’m poltergeisted like a mother effer.

Stage Four: Guilt

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My God, it’s all my fault, isn’t it? I shouldn’t have used some Space Marine bits to make him. I shouldn’t have left him alone so many nights. He probably watched me make sweet sweet love to my wife and cursed me for not giving him, erm, equipment. It was all my fault. *cries*

Stage Five: Anger

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Stage Six: Depression

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Whyyyyyyyyyyyyyy. I just don’t get it. I did everything I could do to get him back. Now I can’t pick my head up out of the ice cream tub. Colors have no color. Tastes, all of cardboard. I was Honey Boo Boo; a complete wreck, and all because of someone else.

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But there was light at the end of the tunnel.

Stage Seven: Acceptance

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After about 24 hours since his disappearance, I decided it was time to move on. After all, I was breathing, and I had friends. Kind of. They all know me as Onshava, but they’re in a list titled “Friends”, so it counts. I could always build another. There would be another dawn. And I would see it.

In case you’re wondering, I found the model in my back left jean pocket. Kidding. He’s missing like Jimmy Hoffa. I know not if I’ll ever see him again, but I’ll always cherish the time I spent with him. R.I.P. Alpharius.

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In his memory 

I’m now working on my new chaos lord and filling my life with shiny things to distract me from the pain. Come with me, and I shall show you. Let’s go on an adventure.

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This is my living room. Well, at least it’s my living room for the next few weeks. We’re moving to Edgewater shortly. I decided I needed some actual work space. After all, I do work from home once a week (one of the perks of being a writer), and I do a fair amount of painting/modeling. The dining room table just isn’t cutting it any more. Thus, I purchased this desk.

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To ensure it didn’t disappear like my *sniffle* beloved chaos lord, I have set guards to keep an eye on it 24/7.

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Here are the green stuffededed bits. They should be dry about now, so I’ll be basing them black shortly. I hope to have the guy completely finished by Saturday, so that he may take to the battlefield to avenge his lost brother (my local GW shop is hosting mega battles every weekend this month). I’ll certainly keep you updated, if you’d like. I contemplated building him exactly like the model I previously made, but I felt that would be a dishonor to him. Instead, I decided I would make changes. Violent changes. Maybe that’ll give future thieveses (I suspect hobbits…Smeagol had it right all along) pause before pocketing my crap, son!

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One major problem I hit was that I didn’t have  base suitable for the model. I order all my bases from a fantastic site called Fantascape.com. Truly masterful work. I’m rather impatient with creating bases, and his products are top notch. Unfortunately, I simply didn’t have time to wait for a shipment from the U.K. And I’m not superman. At least not yet. Sadly, I had to make my own. Using the basic design from my other models, I came up with this.

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I know it’s not perfect, but it’ll have to do.

Now we come to the end of our tale. I have moved on from my harrowing experience. I’m a little wiser, a little more sad, but filled with hope for the future. I know that, with the love of my supposed friends and wife, I’ll move on. One day at a time.

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Oh, ever wondered what my lovely wife was doing throughout my grief?

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To Do: Cope with Loss

P.S. For all of our younger readers, I have linked Wikipedia articles explaining some of the jokes.

To Do: Inform the Kiddies