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 Julius Kaesoron ''The Favoured Son'' Captain, 1st Company.
At the first recital- The chemosian was a vast figure in white robes with long flowing blond hair had entered the recital hall.
Visiting the Heliopolis- Dressed in the triumphal purple of his toga picta and the martial red of his lacerna cloak, he cut an imposing figure as he marched swiftly to the Heliopolis, followed by his equerry, Lycaon, and a retinue of bearers who carried his helmet, sword and trailing cloak. A pendant of fiery amber hung around his neck and nestled between the carved pectorals of his golden breastplate. Nothing of his discomfort showed on his patrician features, Julius felt fierce pride swell within his breast, and he reached up to touch the carved eagle on his armour. Those who had served with the Emperor's Children for any length of time knew that the wearing of such a cloak signified a warrior about to go into battle.
Laeran- Clad in terminator armour, Julius smashed a Laer warrior to the ground, the energy field wreathing his massive gauntlet ripping through its silver armour and snapping its snake-like body virtually in two. He and his Terminators were punching a hole clean through the defences of the Laer, having only left a single warrior in the care of the Apothecaries. He was armed with a bolter and powerfist. In the temple Julius released the catches at his gorget, lifting the close-fitting helmet clear of his head. His skin was clammy with sweat, and he took a deep breath of air to clear his lungs of the stale, recycled oxygen of his armour. The air was hot and scented, a cloying musk drifting from holes in the walls, and he was surprised to feel a little lightheaded.
Post Laeran- Julius Kaesoron had been sitting next to him on a steel stool since Solomon had woken this morning, his armour gleaming and polished, the scars of war repaired by the Legion's artificers. Fresh honours were secured to his shoulder guards by gobbets of red wax, his deeds of valour recorded on long strips of creamy vellum.
**Diasporex boarding-**The xenos’ speed was phenomenal and its clawed forearm smashed into his helmet, cracking it open from chin to temple. His vision dissolved into static, and he rolled away from the blow, ripping his helmet off as he rose to his feet with his sword extended before him. Solomon saw Julius, his face a mask of blood, and Solomon felt a shiver of unease at the expressions of glacial anger he saw in both their eyes.
Meeting Ferrus- He wore an ivory cloak, its edges picked out with scarlet leaves and eagles, and a laurel wreath of gold upon his brow. He carried his helmet under the crook of his arm, as did his brothers who gathered with him to greet Ferrus Manus.
Second meeting with Ferrus-- lightning sheathed claws slid from the gauntlets of his Terminator armour. Even as Santar saw what must inevitably happen next, it was too late as Julius hammered the crackling blades into his chest and tore them downwards. The energised claws tore through Santar's armour, ripping through his chest cavity and exiting in a gory spray of blood at his pelvis.
Istvann V- - Julius danced through the combat, the sights and sounds of the killing causing rushes of physical pleasure to spasm through his body as he fought with savage joy. His armour was dented and gashed in a dozen places, but the wounds he had suffered only spurred his frenetic killing dance to greater heights. In preparation for the fighting, he had repainted its every surface in a riot of colours that stimulated his freshly reborn vision. He had similarly enhanced his weapons, and the looks of horror and disgust that accompanied his every killing blow fired his senses. 'Look upon me and realise the greyness of your lives!' he screamed as he fought, delirious with slaughter.
He had long since discarded his helmet to better experience the chaos of the battle, the roar of guns, the buzz of swords through flesh, the explosions and the vividness of shell traceries across the heavens. Kaesoron's weapon was a fearsome, energised glaive that was easily capable of carving through his armour, and Gabriel Santar turned as fast as he was able to block each ferocious stroke of the blade, but even one as fast as he could not hope to match his opponent's serpent-like speed.Gabriel Santar caught Julius’ blade between the digits of his energy wreathed fist and a fiery explosion burst between them. He twisted his wrist, and Julius's blade snapped, leaving only the length of a forearm above the quillons. After Julius’ blade exploded he was sprawled on his back, the ceramite armour of his breastplate bubbled with the residue of the explosion, his face a screaming, burnt horror of seared flesh and exposed bone. His face was horrifically illuminated in the firelight of the battle, the skin peeled away from the musculature beneath, and the while gleam of bone jutting through his cheeks and with his lips burned away. Julius, almost unrecognisable with his skin burnt from his bones, ran a blistered tongue around the lipless ruin of his mouth.
Reflection Crack'd- Lucius moved through the press of bodies towards Julius Kaesoron, savouring the beautiful devastation of the First Captain’s features. An Iron Hand by the name of Santar had ruined Kaesoron’s face more thoroughly than Lucius could ever manage, and though Fabius had reconstructed much of his hairless skull, it was still a horror of vat-grown flesh stitched to fused bone, weeping orbs of milky blindness and burned scar tissue the colour of weather-beaten copper. Both captains wore armour that had been wondrously embellished with spikes and draped with leathered hide stripped from the bodies that littered the parquet of La Fenice. Yet for all their gaudy finery and obvious mutilations. Lucius risked a sidelong glance at Kaesoron, but the warrior’s skull had been so thoroughly mangled and rebuilt that it was impossible to read his features. The First Captain drew a curved gutting knife and placed the tip of the blade against the pulsing artery at Lucius’s neck. Even though Kaesoron was encased in his spiked and flesh-wrapped Terminator armour, Fulgrim still stood head and shoulders above him. Julius Kaesoron struggled to his feet, his fist bursting to life with shimmering arcs of purple lightning.
Angel Exterminatus- A warrior in thickly-ornamented Cataphractii plate strung with flayed skin and hung with ribbons of bone stepped forwards, his whole face a burn scar that had healed poorly and been inexpertly treated. The warrior’s eyes were cataracted nightmares of pink-veined fluid that wept viscous tears along the craggy ruin of his features. Kaesoron’s milky eyes swept over the highest tiers of the Thaliakron, his expression unreadable through his scarring. His face was cut with fresh recasting, moulding his features into a nightmarish pastiche of humanity, a mask of flesh transfigured beyond all sanity by bone grafts, horn implants and ocular components that had reshaped his eyes into too-wide orbs of utter blackness. He laughed hysterically, drawing his combat knife and plunging it up into the space beneath his skin-draped shoulder guard and scored breastplate. Julius threw aside his knife, its blade too small and inconsequential for what needed to be done. He drew his serrated sword, the blade impregnated with hooked barbs worked along its length. As silence fell over the plaza, only Julius Kaesoron was left standing, his purple and gold armour entirely covered in crimson and loose, dribbling chunks of skin. The man’s face was a horror of liquid scar tissue, burned meat and monstrous surgery. Whatever he had looked like before was utterly obscured beneath a leathern mask of self-inflicted mutilations. Kaesoron grinned, exposing rotten teeth, twisted fangs and a lizard-like tongue of reptilian scales. Kaesoron barrelled towards the constructs, his fists mashing into the nearest and breaking it in two. He took a blow to the head that almost toppled him, but he moved with a speed that astonished Forrix. Cataphractii armour offered a warrior many advantages, but speed wasn’t normally one of them.
Primacy--The First Captain swivelled his altered skull, its horns glistening wetly, his too-black eyes flaring avariciously. Julius Kaesoron grinned with a smile made of pearl and platinum, bone and diamond. Eidolon let the statement hang, his body tensing as he stood at his full height and stared Kaesoron down. The First Captain’s distorted features flexed again, with amusement and distaste. Kaesoron presided over the luxury from the head of one of the great tables.
The light reflected from broken mirrors and polished panels caught on the glimmering plates of his armour. Madly lacquered surfaces vied with tarnished gold, rendering him more idol than man.
This thread shall cover the Julius Kaesoron ''The Favoured Son'' Captain, 1st Company.
At the first recital- The chemosian was a vast figure in white robes with long flowing blond hair had entered the recital hall.
Visiting the Heliopolis- Dressed in the triumphal purple of his toga picta and the martial red of his lacerna cloak, he cut an imposing figure as he marched swiftly to the Heliopolis, followed by his equerry, Lycaon, and a retinue of bearers who carried his helmet, sword and trailing cloak. A pendant of fiery amber hung around his neck and nestled between the carved pectorals of his golden breastplate. Nothing of his discomfort showed on his patrician features, Julius felt fierce pride swell within his breast, and he reached up to touch the carved eagle on his armour. Those who had served with the Emperor's Children for any length of time knew that the wearing of such a cloak signified a warrior about to go into battle.
Laeran- Clad in terminator armour, Julius smashed a Laer warrior to the ground, the energy field wreathing his massive gauntlet ripping through its silver armour and snapping its snake-like body virtually in two. He and his Terminators were punching a hole clean through the defences of the Laer, having only left a single warrior in the care of the Apothecaries. He was armed with a bolter and powerfist. In the temple Julius released the catches at his gorget, lifting the close-fitting helmet clear of his head. His skin was clammy with sweat, and he took a deep breath of air to clear his lungs of the stale, recycled oxygen of his armour. The air was hot and scented, a cloying musk drifting from holes in the walls, and he was surprised to feel a little lightheaded.
Post Laeran- Julius Kaesoron had been sitting next to him on a steel stool since Solomon had woken this morning, his armour gleaming and polished, the scars of war repaired by the Legion's artificers. Fresh honours were secured to his shoulder guards by gobbets of red wax, his deeds of valour recorded on long strips of creamy vellum.
**Diasporex boarding-**The xenos’ speed was phenomenal and its clawed forearm smashed into his helmet, cracking it open from chin to temple. His vision dissolved into static, and he rolled away from the blow, ripping his helmet off as he rose to his feet with his sword extended before him. Solomon saw Julius, his face a mask of blood, and Solomon felt a shiver of unease at the expressions of glacial anger he saw in both their eyes.
Meeting Ferrus- He wore an ivory cloak, its edges picked out with scarlet leaves and eagles, and a laurel wreath of gold upon his brow. He carried his helmet under the crook of his arm, as did his brothers who gathered with him to greet Ferrus Manus.
Second meeting with Ferrus-- lightning sheathed claws slid from the gauntlets of his Terminator armour. Even as Santar saw what must inevitably happen next, it was too late as Julius hammered the crackling blades into his chest and tore them downwards. The energised claws tore through Santar's armour, ripping through his chest cavity and exiting in a gory spray of blood at his pelvis.
Istvann V- - Julius danced through the combat, the sights and sounds of the killing causing rushes of physical pleasure to spasm through his body as he fought with savage joy. His armour was dented and gashed in a dozen places, but the wounds he had suffered only spurred his frenetic killing dance to greater heights. In preparation for the fighting, he had repainted its every surface in a riot of colours that stimulated his freshly reborn vision. He had similarly enhanced his weapons, and the looks of horror and disgust that accompanied his every killing blow fired his senses. 'Look upon me and realise the greyness of your lives!' he screamed as he fought, delirious with slaughter.
He had long since discarded his helmet to better experience the chaos of the battle, the roar of guns, the buzz of swords through flesh, the explosions and the vividness of shell traceries across the heavens. Kaesoron's weapon was a fearsome, energised glaive that was easily capable of carving through his armour, and Gabriel Santar turned as fast as he was able to block each ferocious stroke of the blade, but even one as fast as he could not hope to match his opponent's serpent-like speed.Gabriel Santar caught Julius’ blade between the digits of his energy wreathed fist and a fiery explosion burst between them. He twisted his wrist, and Julius's blade snapped, leaving only the length of a forearm above the quillons. After Julius’ blade exploded he was sprawled on his back, the ceramite armour of his breastplate bubbled with the residue of the explosion, his face a screaming, burnt horror of seared flesh and exposed bone. His face was horrifically illuminated in the firelight of the battle, the skin peeled away from the musculature beneath, and the while gleam of bone jutting through his cheeks and with his lips burned away. Julius, almost unrecognisable with his skin burnt from his bones, ran a blistered tongue around the lipless ruin of his mouth.
Reflection Crack'd- Lucius moved through the press of bodies towards Julius Kaesoron, savouring the beautiful devastation of the First Captain’s features. An Iron Hand by the name of Santar had ruined Kaesoron’s face more thoroughly than Lucius could ever manage, and though Fabius had reconstructed much of his hairless skull, it was still a horror of vat-grown flesh stitched to fused bone, weeping orbs of milky blindness and burned scar tissue the colour of weather-beaten copper. Both captains wore armour that had been wondrously embellished with spikes and draped with leathered hide stripped from the bodies that littered the parquet of La Fenice. Yet for all their gaudy finery and obvious mutilations. Lucius risked a sidelong glance at Kaesoron, but the warrior’s skull had been so thoroughly mangled and rebuilt that it was impossible to read his features. The First Captain drew a curved gutting knife and placed the tip of the blade against the pulsing artery at Lucius’s neck. Even though Kaesoron was encased in his spiked and flesh-wrapped Terminator armour, Fulgrim still stood head and shoulders above him. Julius Kaesoron struggled to his feet, his fist bursting to life with shimmering arcs of purple lightning.
Angel Exterminatus- A warrior in thickly-ornamented Cataphractii plate strung with flayed skin and hung with ribbons of bone stepped forwards, his whole face a burn scar that had healed poorly and been inexpertly treated. The warrior’s eyes were cataracted nightmares of pink-veined fluid that wept viscous tears along the craggy ruin of his features. Kaesoron’s milky eyes swept over the highest tiers of the Thaliakron, his expression unreadable through his scarring. His face was cut with fresh recasting, moulding his features into a nightmarish pastiche of humanity, a mask of flesh transfigured beyond all sanity by bone grafts, horn implants and ocular components that had reshaped his eyes into too-wide orbs of utter blackness. He laughed hysterically, drawing his combat knife and plunging it up into the space beneath his skin-draped shoulder guard and scored breastplate. Julius threw aside his knife, its blade too small and inconsequential for what needed to be done. He drew his serrated sword, the blade impregnated with hooked barbs worked along its length. As silence fell over the plaza, only Julius Kaesoron was left standing, his purple and gold armour entirely covered in crimson and loose, dribbling chunks of skin. The man’s face was a horror of liquid scar tissue, burned meat and monstrous surgery. Whatever he had looked like before was utterly obscured beneath a leathern mask of self-inflicted mutilations. Kaesoron grinned, exposing rotten teeth, twisted fangs and a lizard-like tongue of reptilian scales. Kaesoron barrelled towards the constructs, his fists mashing into the nearest and breaking it in two. He took a blow to the head that almost toppled him, but he moved with a speed that astonished Forrix. Cataphractii armour offered a warrior many advantages, but speed wasn’t normally one of them.
Primacy--The First Captain swivelled his altered skull, its horns glistening wetly, his too-black eyes flaring avariciously. Julius Kaesoron grinned with a smile made of pearl and platinum, bone and diamond. Eidolon let the statement hang, his body tensing as he stood at his full height and stared Kaesoron down. The First Captain’s distorted features flexed again, with amusement and distaste. Kaesoron presided over the luxury from the head of one of the great tables.
The light reflected from broken mirrors and polished panels caught on the glimmering plates of his armour. Madly lacquered surfaces vied with tarnished gold, rendering him more idol than man.