With the members of the Third legion and their allies spread through out swathes of books it can at times be quite a task to hunt down the descriptions of them, be it for art, conversions/kitbashes, lore discussions or any number of things. As such my hope with this thread is to make things a bit easier for fellow fans of the legion looking for such details.
This thread shall cover the The Daemon Prince of Slaanesh Doomrider.
Doomrider, The Daemon of Speed, The Wolf of the Exhaust, The King of the Road-
He had come to Shaka VI in pursuit of his latest prey whose trail stretched almost to the time of the Scouring, The thing called Doomrider. None knew it's true name, not even the oldest stormseers could pry that secret from the jaws of the spirits or even what legion if any the beast once pledged fealty to. Only scraps existed buried in myth and lies. Some said that Doomrider led the Emperors Children on Terra, butchering the population with mindless excess while true warriors battled for the fate of the galaxy. Others said that the creature was no scion of Fulgrim but instead a fallen son of some other chapter. Still other legends claimed the beast could not truly die for in its blood ran the raw stuff of the warp.
Four Masters of the hunt had been humbled by the creature outwitted, outfought...outridden.
Four times the laughing nightmare clad in the colours of a long damned legion riding a demon bike had escaped the down the long road of centuries. Four times it had wet its hellblade in the blood of Kosarro's battle brothers and escaped their wrath.
A weird sound rose and the chained figure thrashed. It took a moment for Kosarro to realize it was laughing.
The chains began to rattle, the air shimmered like an oil slick, the growl of phantom engines filled the bay and the dancers stiffened as one as if an electric shock had rippled through each of them simultaneously. The creature on the deus stiffened as well and then began to struggle with the chains that bound it.
The air grew hot and oppressive. The bare flesh of the cultist sizzled like fat in a fire as they lurched once more into motion writhing in an awkward circle around the deus before slumping to the ground. The rattle of the chains grew more frantic. The bay was filled with noise, heat and the smell of burning feul. The growl of engines grew louder and louder drowning out everything else. The creature on the deus screamed then with a ripping of flesh and a snapping of bone it changed. The thing on the deus ruptured like some abnormal cocoon.
The thing in the chains sluffed away reduced to red rags by that which once occupied the same point in space. Burnt meat slid noisily from dark armour to land smoking on the deus. It had the face of an angel and the horns of a daemon. Doomrider stank of burning flesh and several centuries of feul fumes and far worse thing below that effluvial shroud. The flesh of his-it's face was locked in a continuous of burning an healing. Even through the masks of flames it wore Kosarro could tell the creature was grinning. It gave a desultory shrug bursting the chains and freeing itself.
It's armour was beneath the strange colours and boroque guilding quite recognizably that of an older age for a moment briefly he wondered who had it been before it became the thing known as Doomrider, what had he witnessed in those dim dark days. Had he known the heros of old, the mighty men of reknown spoken of now only in legend and song?
Eyes as bright and terrible as the corona of a dying sun swept across the white scars and the burnt grin widend revealing a mouth full of crooked and jagged fangs.
With a daemonic shriek it grabbed a length of the broken chain that had bound it only moments earlier whirled it over it's head and snapped it like a bull whip.
With a movement that was at once sinuous and impossible Doomrider slithered around the blade and ensnared it in his chain.
Doomrider was inhumanly quick his movements somehow out of sink with reality. Doomrider leered down at him sizzling dollops of burning essence falling from it's head to hiss against the floor.
It was like striking stone wreathed in fog, for every blow that landed two missed.
Kosarro bounded to his feet and slashed Doomrider across the face, vile fluid burst from the wound and evaporated even as it did so.
Doomrider held out it's hand pam up, it's fingers crooked in a gesture of command. The deus shuddered and groaned as the desperate machine parts began to heave as though alive. The dead bodies on the floor began to twitch as well and slip towards the deus as if hauled by invisible chains. In moments dead flesh and metal met with a terrible sound brought together as if caught in the heart of a collapsing star. Quicker than the eye could follow bone, meat and metal had fused together and reshaped themselves into a familiar shape. The bike was a hideous thing part insect part corpse part bat with wheels of flame and a twisted legion of suffering faces on it's front chassis. The machine screamed like a new-born demon and seemed to undulate towards its master, it's burning wheels leaving black scorch marks on the metal.
This thread shall cover the The Daemon Prince of Slaanesh Doomrider.
Doomrider, The Daemon of Speed, The Wolf of the Exhaust, The King of the Road-
He had come to Shaka VI in pursuit of his latest prey whose trail stretched almost to the time of the Scouring, The thing called Doomrider. None knew it's true name, not even the oldest stormseers could pry that secret from the jaws of the spirits or even what legion if any the beast once pledged fealty to. Only scraps existed buried in myth and lies. Some said that Doomrider led the Emperors Children on Terra, butchering the population with mindless excess while true warriors battled for the fate of the galaxy. Others said that the creature was no scion of Fulgrim but instead a fallen son of some other chapter. Still other legends claimed the beast could not truly die for in its blood ran the raw stuff of the warp.
Four Masters of the hunt had been humbled by the creature outwitted, outfought...outridden.
Four times the laughing nightmare clad in the colours of a long damned legion riding a demon bike had escaped the down the long road of centuries. Four times it had wet its hellblade in the blood of Kosarro's battle brothers and escaped their wrath.
A weird sound rose and the chained figure thrashed. It took a moment for Kosarro to realize it was laughing.
The chains began to rattle, the air shimmered like an oil slick, the growl of phantom engines filled the bay and the dancers stiffened as one as if an electric shock had rippled through each of them simultaneously. The creature on the deus stiffened as well and then began to struggle with the chains that bound it.
The air grew hot and oppressive. The bare flesh of the cultist sizzled like fat in a fire as they lurched once more into motion writhing in an awkward circle around the deus before slumping to the ground. The rattle of the chains grew more frantic. The bay was filled with noise, heat and the smell of burning feul. The growl of engines grew louder and louder drowning out everything else. The creature on the deus screamed then with a ripping of flesh and a snapping of bone it changed. The thing on the deus ruptured like some abnormal cocoon.
The thing in the chains sluffed away reduced to red rags by that which once occupied the same point in space. Burnt meat slid noisily from dark armour to land smoking on the deus. It had the face of an angel and the horns of a daemon. Doomrider stank of burning flesh and several centuries of feul fumes and far worse thing below that effluvial shroud. The flesh of his-it's face was locked in a continuous of burning an healing. Even through the masks of flames it wore Kosarro could tell the creature was grinning. It gave a desultory shrug bursting the chains and freeing itself.
It's armour was beneath the strange colours and boroque guilding quite recognizably that of an older age for a moment briefly he wondered who had it been before it became the thing known as Doomrider, what had he witnessed in those dim dark days. Had he known the heros of old, the mighty men of reknown spoken of now only in legend and song?
Eyes as bright and terrible as the corona of a dying sun swept across the white scars and the burnt grin widend revealing a mouth full of crooked and jagged fangs.
With a daemonic shriek it grabbed a length of the broken chain that had bound it only moments earlier whirled it over it's head and snapped it like a bull whip.
With a movement that was at once sinuous and impossible Doomrider slithered around the blade and ensnared it in his chain.
Doomrider was inhumanly quick his movements somehow out of sink with reality. Doomrider leered down at him sizzling dollops of burning essence falling from it's head to hiss against the floor.
It was like striking stone wreathed in fog, for every blow that landed two missed.
Kosarro bounded to his feet and slashed Doomrider across the face, vile fluid burst from the wound and evaporated even as it did so.
Doomrider held out it's hand pam up, it's fingers crooked in a gesture of command. The deus shuddered and groaned as the desperate machine parts began to heave as though alive. The dead bodies on the floor began to twitch as well and slip towards the deus as if hauled by invisible chains. In moments dead flesh and metal met with a terrible sound brought together as if caught in the heart of a collapsing star. Quicker than the eye could follow bone, meat and metal had fused together and reshaped themselves into a familiar shape. The bike was a hideous thing part insect part corpse part bat with wheels of flame and a twisted legion of suffering faces on it's front chassis. The machine screamed like a new-born demon and seemed to undulate towards its master, it's burning wheels leaving black scorch marks on the metal.
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