Character Description Compendium: The Consortium

[MolotovKraken]

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 Consortium warband of Fabius Bile.
(Note: With another book to scour fully there will likely be a later expansion and edit to this thread)

Fabius Bile, ‘’The ragged king’’, ‘’King of fethers’’, Pater mutatis, Change master of the six fold helix, Primogenator, Manflayer, Benafactor, Spider, Clonelord, ‘’Magos Harren Serpens’’, ‘’Mentor of Nyniq’’, Teacher-
He glanced down at the gilded skull, its curve etched with ruinous sigils. He thumped the ferrule of the sceptre against the platform, silencing its snarls. He had left his helmet mag-clamped to his hip, so he couldn’t hear the voxchatter, but he could imagine the whispered conversations, the idolatrous prayers, the hissed threats. The air throbbed with their spite. He drank it in, head lifted high, and smoothed the folds of his coat of flayed and tanned flesh. s. Space Marines were nothing more or less than biological weapons. They were built for war, and longed for it on a genetic level. Normally, he dampened those urges in himself.

Ancient power armour that still bore traces of III Legion purple beneath a coat of flayed faces sparked and groaned with disrepair, yet the whirring arachnoid limbs of his chirurgeon backpack, ending in blades, surgical bonesaws and other cruel, less identifiable instruments, gleamed in the light with fresh oils, maintained with the utmost care and attention. He approached bareheaded, an emaciated husk of a skull topped with wisps of stringy white hair. His face was sharp and gaunt, the same cruel face from the astropathic message Lucius had received. Lucius winced as he gazed upon the husk his brother had become. The armour he wore seemed disproportionately large for his head, which looked no better than a skull dipped in yellowed wax. He appeared as though he were less its wearer, and more the parasite who had devoured the legionary from the inside.

Dream Fabius- Helmetless showing his fuller unscarred face, and full head of hair pulled back into a single coiling lock. He wore white and amethyst battle plate marked with a winged caddicus. He found himself with his etched chain sword he left in torso of a white scar during the siege. He later summons torment from his hate spite and cancerous rancor.

Malpertus- A gaunt individual wearing scoured armour. (Deceased)

Shouting consortium member- Wore a cowl and robes of sutured flesh over war plate, the skins capillaries were flushed when he was frustrated.

Khorag singe- The pallid weathered plate of his ancient cataphactii armour rustled like loose flesh, clouds of miasmic incense billowed out from cracked vents and ruptured hoses of his helmet, death guard apothecary, former grave warden, abandoned the services of his brothers and typhon, loose cabling hung beneath his arms.

Haruk- A world eater apothecary in the brass and crimson schemes, helmetless showing his scarred features and mismatched eyes. Equiped with a chain axe and carries a vox recorder for Fabius. He is covered in gore and apothecary equipment is not mentioned. He is later killed by Arrian and has his skull taken.

Arrian Zorzi- A world eater wearing mostly grey armour with pitted plates and remnants of blue and white that is gone by the time of the story A Memory of Tharsis , it is stained by black mold and blood stains. Six skulls are chained over his torso, butcher nails implants can still be seen on the skulls dangling down like some barbaric tabard. chains are tied around his arms and chest. He is equipped with grenades, apothecary equipment and two falax blades, their sheathes being on his hips. His face is scarred. His caduceus symbol is faded. Noted to be larger than Saqarra. Not a chaos worshipper. Two of his skulls owners are known Braais and Haruk.

Saqarra Thresh- A word bearer diabolist from the dark council of Sicaris. He wore battered crimson armour covered in cramped curling script and blasphemous iconography and fluttering streams of parchment. He is fang mothed, pinch faced and has scars along the curve of his skull and the tight line of his jaw. He is equipped with a bolt pistol, and on his belt is grenades, a curvy athame knife with an oily sheen and flasks of glass and clay etched in sigils and banded in iron. On sublime he wears a cowl and cloak when under cover.

Oleander Koh, ‘’Count Sunflame’’, 4th of the Joybound-An emperor’s children apothecary whose armour was the colour of a bruise, with obscene imagery covering it, animal skins on his shoulders and a light globe on his backpack. He is equipped with a bolt pistol, grenades, ammunition on his belt and a curved mortuary blade with a golden pommel and deaths head, during the shattering he is given a bolt gun by a fellow member of the Joy bound. Oleander has extended canines, a metallic sheen to his hair, a helmet crested with a ragged mane of silk strips and oil black eyes. During the shattering he would take Gulox’s sword to replace his own and soon after claim the Radiant’s blade. He is the 4th of the Joy bound (Lord commander equivalent in the Radiant’s forces.) His helmet is noted to have a vox grill. When undercover at Sublime he wears a cowl and cloak. He is in possession of an etched and gilded pipe which is claimed to be made of Konrad Curze’s fingerbone, with tiny glass filters on his neck containing substances he uses to smoke.

Skaripedes- An alpha legion spy infiltrating the consortium, was discovered and killed.

Consortium- Members noted for self enhancement, mimicry of Fabius’ cloak, bone accessories and utilizing narthesiums, modified servitors and mutant scribes.

Apothecary Morag- He wore stained penitence robes over armour concealing all but the serpentine dendrites that coiled and thrashed about him. One dendrite noted extracting blood from one of his two bond slaves.

Apothecary Duco- A Nightlord covered in bone decoration and bearing a narthesium. He was accompanied by 2 goat headed bodyguards bearing fangs and skinning knives.

Apothecary Gorel- He had red armour that flexed like a second skin as the drug pumps affixed to his power unit hissed. Weirdly coloured smoke emitted from the vents of his helmet. The servitor behind him had its mouth replaced a dispenser node studded with chemical tanks and a profusion of canisters.

Tsmiskies- An iron warrior wearing wearing ‘’heavy’’ armour he reinforced himself and was decorated with an iron skull emblem. He is equipped with a power axe (cited later with a chain axe). Built a quartet of kastlan battle automata that he has augmented with a heightened battle reaction and equipped with bolt cannons. Built servo skulls with self defense mechanisms. He remains helmeted at all times and remains silent. His helmet is noted to have a vox grill. (Deceased)

Skallagrim- A Sons of Horus reaver. Bare headed with scarred features hidden by a tangle of grey streaked hair and beard. Worn and faded cthonian glyph markings had been etched into his black battle plate. He bore a Chain axe and apothecary equipment.

Chort- Consortium member. (deceased)

 

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House of Noise

House of noise- A nest of hundreds of noise marines in the outer observation deck of the Radiant’s ship, later migrate to the Versalius in the aftermath of The Shattering.

Ramos- A massive hulking noise marine. Heavy hoses and sonic relays hung from his armour which had been crudely reinforced by additional layers gleamed from many marks. His helmet was covered in clusters of broadcast amplifiers and the grill resembled the bare teeth of a wild beast, bloodshot eyes glared through the shattered remains of a visor. Amplifiers were built into gauntlets on his big hands.

Their battleplate was equally warped and unnatural, more resembling a lunatic’s idea of insect carapace than the functional armour it had once been. Every facet of their armour was daubed in garish colours – some of which were actively painful to Fabius’ enhanced vision. Only the most extravagant patterns and hues registered with the Kakophoni’s warped senses, and their armour had been modified accordingly.

Rugose carvings decorated the surfaces of shoulder-plates, and strange flowering growths spilled down from the burst confines of gorgets and chest-plates. Power cables, pneumatic pumps and serpentine hoses hung from them like tabards. Voxrelays decorated the malformed helmets of some like techno-organic crowns. One stepped forward. Heavy pipes and sonic emitters hung from armour that was a patchwork of marks and styles.

The battleplate had been crudely reinforced, extra plates attached by means of some glistening, cancerous growth, which pulsed in time to the slightest sound. His helmet was covered in barnacle clusters of broadcast amplifiers, and the grille resembled the jaws of a wild beast. Bloodshot eyes met Fabius’ own, through the shattered lenses of a mangled visor.

But that mastery had not come without cost. Knots and whorls of wraithbone grew through and across their altered forms. They had spent so long in the garden that many of them were becoming one with it, in some impossible manner. Even Ramos was encrusted with barnacles of the stuff.

The Kakophoni were things of grotesque beauty. Their battleplate had warped itself into a madman’s ideal, more resembling the carapace of an insect than functional armour. Spiky extrusions lined the garishly hued facets, twitching against the air. Their armour seemed to move separately from its wearers, flexing and creaking in ways it was not meant to. The sound of it was almost painful. Strange carvings decorated their shoulder-plates and chest-pieces, and unnatural growths spilled out from cracks and gaps in the armour, growing over the ceramite in fleshy folds. Tangles of power cables and stimm-pumps hung like barbaric tabards, and vox-relays sputtered and sparked from atop helms or within hollows secreted between the plates.

There was no uniformity to them – each was a monstrosity unto himself. Ramos was larger than his fellows. Sonic emitters studded his crudely reinforced armour, and a glistening, cancerous growth spilled across his chest and limbs, pulsing in time to the slightest sound. Broadcast amplifiers encircled the top of his helm like a humming crown, and the grille resembled the jaws of a wild beast. His visor had shattered long ago, exposing dark, bloodshot eyes.

He lifted his hand, and Fabius saw an amplifier embedded in his palm. It throbbed, and a tinny sound, like the sigh of a small animal, rose from it. Ramos held out his hand, and a flurry of sound emerged from the mouth-like vox-grilles built into his vambrace.

The enemy – he hesitated to call them mon-keigh – were bloated things, their armour painted in garish hues and their weapons unlike anything he had ever seen. Sonic energy danced through the air in a stomach-churning gavotte. Anything it touched was reduced to fiery motes.

A massive figure stood between them and their prey. He was bigger than the others, his armour more garish than anything they’d yet seen. It was studded in odd protrusions and additions – things like broadcasters or amplifiers. The air throbbed around him with painful intensity.

Noise marines- A Garish sight, clad gaudily daubed power armour as only the most extravagant shades and patterns registered with their inflamed senses. Power hoses, cables and vox relays hung like tabards from their baroque gear. One had hundreds of golden coins hammered into his armour while one another was covered in a shroud of stitched flesh.

Elion Parketes- A doom siren could be seen over shoulders, his helmet was wrought in the shape of a screaming shape, his voice equal parts feedback distortion and animal growl. Additional augmentations: wheezing pneumatics for forcing air through tortured, cables emerged from cracks in untended power armour and wound like serpents through the gaping pistons of prosthetic limbs, later connected to device that blinded Luganath to the Radiant’s attacked.

People of the house of noise- Pale creatures that were smaller than a man. Barrel chested and covered in blister like metal nodes. They developed a thickened dermas and enhanced lung capacity as they adapted to the void. They howl along as the noise marines ‘’sing’’.

 

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Creations of Bile

Trio of Biles combat servitors- Clad in heavy armour wearing a spinal harness based on the design of the chirurgeon- tipped with a variety of weapons- flamers, plasma torches, bone saws and the like. All had a combi bolter built into the front of their armoured chassis. Used during the shattering and destroyed in battle.

Witches- Abhuman psykers with cerebral conduits implanted in skull that connected to worm like bio filaments. They were sweaty, slack jawed, blank eyed and bled from their eyes and noses from Biles infinity circuit experiments. Used Istvaan warp singer techniques.

Overseers- Tall grey things, stretched and twisted into looming nightmares. Their skewered skulls bristled with psy-dampeners. They wielded shock batons.

Gland hounds, angel hunters- They wore grimy fatigues, battered carapace chest plates, and had an assortment of bandoliers, equipment and ammo giving them a ragtag look. They were marked with series codes on their cheeks. They contained a lesser geneseed and had circuitry just below ear (a subdermal electu which failed to work). Noted to have bulging muscles and having been utilized by iron warriors.

Mind worm- It resembled a centipede with a flat segmented carapace of flexible metal, pincers and numerous fibrous antennae. The subjects eye must be removed to be inserted to allow thoughts, memories and dreams to be downloaded.

Psychic Device- A nutrient containment tank with magnifiers at the side of the fragile glass tank. In the glass is an ocher burbling liquid, floating suspended in the liquid is an intricate web of neural matter spliced from the brain of over a hundred psykers culled from Bile’s collection with eldar tissue added and successfully combined. The device emits psychic miasma to eldar akin to gellar field.

Sasha- A gland hound equipped with heart picker. Had their head torn off by a daemon.

Chirurgeon- Misses Fabius when he is temporarily dead, spinal contact nodes gripping with an oily solution,

Ortis- A muscular gland hound with a scarred face, black spiked teeth and a scared face. He is noted to be taller than Igori. His teeth is covered in venom that was cultivated from insects. He is shown to piss acid, not likely to be common trait amongst glandhounds as Igori is surprised by it. 2nd of the glandhounds until Igori killed him and was replaced as 2nd by Darax.

Govenor's soldiers- They were as large as astartes with red rimmed eyes and equipped with mangled firearms. Created by Bile during his flight from Terra and pursuit of the salamanders.

Guard experiments- Deformed lurching asymmetrical hulks of meat and bone with violet tinged skin. They were covered in subdermal implants and vials of liquid and marked with imperial army regimental tattoos. Created by Bile during his flight from Terra and pursuit of the salamanders.

Igori- A muscular, square faced gland hound with a symmetrical body. She wore a necklace of marine teeth and had a blade on her hip. Her height is just shy of transhuman. Smokes narc-sticks. Old by the time of Clonelord. Hair the color of of ice. Still wore battered fatigues and battle armour. More teeth on her necklace.

Melusine-
pre-corruption- Was clad in demask and silk.

Post- Wore a diaphanous robe that did little to hide anything beneath. She had horns of glossy black veined with red curled either side of her narrow skull and a thick mane of stiff quills like hair spilled down her and her shoulders. She has clawed fingers clad in gold and eyes like red mirrors. A beautiful face, androgynous and strange. Once, long ago, he might have seen a similar face reflected back at him. She turned in a slow, graceful circle, hooves clicking against the deck.. She looked at him, her face a porcelain mask.

Sentry beasts-A lean wolf-like creature with a saurian resemblance. Described with targeting sensors for eyes, a whip like tail, talons, sensor nodes on spines, bladed limbs, beak like jaws, feathers of liquid metal, sensor nodes on spine and that they shine like metal in light.

Malformed thing/ flesh chattel- They were bolt shells of skin and bone and had slavering mouths, bruised flesh and arms.

Vatborn- Stunted hooded creatures wearing rebreathers.

Ourum mutants- Shown wearing old uniforms, combat uniforms and purple stained rags marked with the winged claw symbol of the emperors' children. They had iridescent skin with patches of fur, and watery eyes.

Nighilos- Gland hound, scarred and muscular.

Darax- A hallow faced gland hound whose body was dotted with implant nodes. 2nd(Deceased)

White mice- trained to dance and to duel for the amusement of his parents, dressed in miniscule finery they mimicked the blood feuds of the great houses of Europa. Tiny blades, would tear each other apart much to Fabius’ anguish, ‘’do you know why you fail boy? The stubborn beast flesh boy, it creeps back, it always comes back no matter how much flesh you strip away or alter you cannot change the soul of a thing. And only the soul matter in the end.’’

Cage servitors- But was now a gauntlet of automated weapons systems and several specially altered combat-servitors. The latter had been wired into hollowed-out columns and to either side of the antechamber, their legs replaced by gyroscopic plinths. Their weapons cycled ominously and dead eyes tracked the group, even as Fabius’ armour broadcast an ident-pulse. In the past, the Cage had been a quarantine area for less viable experiments which nonetheless had some military application. Lobotomised warbrutes and horrors with no real shape, or cunning transhumans, lacking even the barest iota of Adeptus Astartes discipline. Now, however, it played host to only one resident. At the end of the nave, where the altar had once stood, there was now only a web of chains, each connected to one of half a dozen specially designed servitors. They could extend and retract the immense lengths of chain from the cybernetic pulley systems built into their augmented torsos. Each had a pair of heavy meltaguns rather than arms, and their legs had been replaced by reinforced boarding clamps, which dug into the marble floor. Their withered skulls rested in thickets of cortical cabling and bundled wires, their dull eyes fixed on the massive form at the centre of their web.

Baby Fulgrim- A pinprick of oily fluid welled at the tip of one of the fingers as it breached the skin, trailing a brackish tear down the pod. The trickle became a stream, became a gushing flood as fingertips hooked around the small puncture in the pod and pulled it wider. The sound of wet sackcloth tearing filled the chamber as the pod ripped open, releasing a torrent of biological slime and the pale shuddering figure that was swept down with it onto the deck. Its head twitched from side to side, the face of a child obscured by a gelled mask of silver-white hair. He clawed at the soaked mass of hair, scraping it back across his scalp. Light teased at him through eyelids gummed closed by filth. Gooseflesh rippled across his lithe musculature. Lucius, gripping the blade in both hands as he drove it down into the deck. The cries of their father’s clone cut out abruptly as his head rolled from his shoulders in a twist of matted platinum hair.

Fabius commoragh lab- Lucius crossed the threshold, and immediately the heady tang of counterseptic assailed his senses. The frigid air prickled at the skin of his face. Steel slabs held restrained creatures in various states of vivisection. Chattering machines studded the walls, alongside racks of crystal specimen flasks. There was a bizarre synergy of human and eldar technology, all devoted to the arcane art of the fleshcrafter. It was a laboratorium and torture chamber at once.

 

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Daemons

2 Invading warp entities- It had teeth, tendrils with suckers and too many mouths. They were rubbery oval bodied things with a maw of diamond teeth. Sigils were etched into their purple-pink flesh that was covered in cancerous growths.

Daemonette on vasalius- A bird like daemonette with a swan like neck, flaming hair, claws, pale white skin, black eyes, hooves and a barbed tongue. It wore human flesh for modesty.

Saqquaras demons- Resembled elongated skinless dogs, emitting blue icor.

Demon which tempted oleander- It emerged from a hololith , it’s sensual holographic body made of binary and pixels. Electric finger extended towards Oleander.

Keeper of secrets Kanathara- It's lupine fangs could be seen in its bovine jaw. Gold chains wrapped around it’s horns dripping in jewels. It was long, lean and four armed, two with snapping claws, two blades forged of smokey glass limbed with light of a dying sun. Its legs ended in hooves.

Keeper of secrets leading daemonic army at Luginath- Described with silver bells on chains on its horns and wielding two obsidian blades.

Pazuz- Corrodes the decks where it crawls, a rotund slug like thing, ripples of scaly teratoma covered flab undulated sliding it forward as it scrabbled with clawed flippers, nauseating gases spewed from its pourus flesh, gift from nurgle to Khorag, glistening flesh.

 

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Enemies of Bile

Crystal homunculus- A humanoid made of shards sprouting arms legs and torsos but remained a singular entity, it was many bodies with one head shining, with many hands, many feet and a single mouth. The tall taloned homunculus combines with the sun to become its fiery head. It gains a cloak made of millions of memories, along with millions of eyes and millions of mouths.

Harlequins- Coloured green, black, and blue and equipped with blades.

Corsairs-Sunblitz brotherhood

Crystal eldar warrior- Crystal eldar warriors that shimmered with colours that swirled across their surface and fired crystal shards.

Troupe master- Bearing a gold, green and black crest. Wearing a wide-eyed mask with a long nose. Has a multi-coloured crest of hair. Wields a blade.

Veil walker- An eldar shadowseer wearing rags of green (jade) and black and gold with a cowl of yellow and purple diamonds and a mirror mask of silver tailing moats of light. Has a staff.

Lugaath eldar- Black helmed eldar, one is noted to have a multi-hued diamond pattern on their arm reminiscent of harlequins.

 

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Associates of Bile

Versalius- A gladius class vessel stripped of old iconography.

Lucius did not know what the ship’s name was. It was, or at least appeared to be, a thing born of human shipyards. Its silhouette did not match any known STC design, looking more like the stinger of some enormous insect than a spacecraft. When its transponder registration was analysed, the servitor slaved to the console provided nothing but a wash of chattering gibberish. As the ships drew closer, Lucius found he could not bring himself to care. The vessel’s flanks were misshapen and swollen with corruption. Dark flesh and throbbing organs coated her in place of armour. Banks of weapons batteries had morphed into glistening proboscises that crackled with clouds of unclean energies. A puckered aperture on the ship’s port side wriggled and expanded into a wide sucking maw, roughly rectangular in shape. A scene of unadulterated horror greeted them. The walls were coated in semi-organic machines, the bare metal scarcely visible beneath the translucent skins of the bizarre, insectile things. Gunships, shuttlecraft and other vehicles were tended to by vat-grown abominations, amorphous creatures that rolled and lumbered and squawked. The deck itself was no longer metal, but rather a flexible chitinous material, like fingernail. In spite of it all, the overwhelming scent of the chamber was the acrid stench of counterseptic. Amidst the stomach-turning display, Lucius could see nothing he would ever identify as human, let alone any of the Legions. A squealing wretch stumbled past the swordsman’s boot. He gathered the creature up by the scruff of its neck, raising it to his eyes. The miserable thing flailed and cried, thrashing with useless limbs that left a briny translucent slime on Lucius’ war-plate. A gigantic ape-like beast thumped a scaly fist against its chest, surrounded by a swarm of more of the mewling wretches. It glared down at Lucius with a cluster of beady compound eyes, baring a maw full of yellowed, tusked fangs. The beast roared, stinking spittle spraying from its lips. The cloud of chattering lesser abominations cringed away from it, their numbers giving them the courage to slowly slink back into the monster’s shadow once its challenge had ceased.

Butcherbird- A gunship cobbled together from stormbirds , it was all sharp angles and equipped with missile pods and various gun barrels. Its hull and thrusters were bound to deck in chains when not in use.

Wolver- Its natural eyes look through a polished brass death mask, a vox was between the masks brass lips and its living brain could be seen in its glass head. Bolt pistol on hip. Wolver was nothing less than an alembic twisted into a roughly human shape. A being of hard metal and thick glass, clad in a pristine naval uniform. A still-living brain glistened visibly within the skull, and human eyes peered out through the sockets of a brass death-mask. The vox-grille set between the lips of the mask pulsed again. As he did so, he heard the crack of a bolt pistol. Wolver suddenly squalled, spun and fell, vital fluids leaking from its cracked skull. It was impossible to tell whether the creature was alive or dead. The strategium overseer no longer resembled the man or woman they had been. Instead, Wolver was an automaton of hard metal and glass. An alembic shaped like a person. A living brain pulsed within the clear dome of their skull, and human eyes peered out through an androgynous brass deathmask. The entirety of their nervous system was visible, stretching down through the glass body, like a cutaway in a medical treatise. Fabius considered it some of his finest work to date. Fabius said as he entered the atrium, followed by the strange figure of Wolver, hands clasped behind their back. Hands of glass rose as if to pluck away the brass mask. They fell, mask untouched.

Key- A pale female eldar corsair, of the sunblitz brotherhood. One eye removed to insert mind room. Orange and gold armour with an ashy checkered pattern along one arm and the symbol of the sunblitz brotherhood on her tabard. Helmet was dented by Igori.

Old man- Retainer of Fabius’ family, a horse leech. Stooped and thin, but powerful. Greying hair that tumbled about his shoulders. Artificial skeletal spidery hands, clock work and wood- chimeras- scaly cats with stinger tipped tails- bipedal dogs clad is specially tailored finery, educated Fabius.

Fabius lab- The chamber was humid, and shrouded in soft amber light. At its centre, the pod hung in twitching repose, flanked by banks of thrumming, arcane machinery. Beyond the devices’ whirring bulk stood cylinders of crystal and armourglass. The medical pods were filled with twisted things that hung and thrashed in baths of milky amniotic fluids. Their forms appeared in half-glimpsed snatches out of the alchemical slurry sloshing within the caskets, revealing malformed limbs with extra joints, skin ridged with chitinous crests, and slack faces that stared out with too many eyes, or none at all. Unlike the caskets on either side of it, the pod was flesh, of a kind. The glistening pinkish oval was marbled with dark networks of injection tubes and synthetic vein networks that joined it with the machines surrounding it.

The pod twitched gently, its surface taut as a drum skin. It sweated and shivered, heat rolling from it as steam that coiled and billowed away into the air of the chamber, adding to the humidity. An indistinct form was locked away beneath the skin, curled in foetal silence. It slept and grew, the same as it had every day since its conception. It was still, beyond irregular tics and spasms, like a child in a restless slumber. But today, its stillness ended. The impression of short, slender fingers pressed against the skin of the pod, straining against its surface. Another hand joined it soon after, running along the inner wall. The barrier flexed, eliciting muted squeals as the fleshy material stretched. Klaxons gave voice to shrill alarms as diagnostic monitors lost the subject of their care. Banks of viewscreens stuttered to life, displaying the creature from multiple angles via security recorders as it shivered and struggled to breathe. Small insectile things scampered over the walls, keeping their distance as they examined the creature with clusters of compound augmetic eyes.

Dzyban- Has hundreds of cultists genetically enslaved to his will. They are mortals, but they are well armed and surgically altered not to fear the Adeptus Astartes. a towering figure in warplate even more shocking and vivid than the garb of the cultists strides towards him. The traitor’s armour is a baroque nightmare of rococo fretwork and fractal images of recombinant gene-molecules. Emperor’s children. His armour bears no resemblance to its former glory. Once, it was a glorious Phoenician purple, honoured above all others to bear the Emperor’s eagle. Now its iconography has been defaced by the blasphemous symbols of the Ruinous Powers, its colours so abhorrent Isstvan can barely bring himself to look upon them. Was present at isstvan. ‘’I once bore the sacred narthecium and reductor, until the Clonelord, blessed be his name, opened my eyes.’ The traitor’s eyes are distended orbs in eye sockets chiselled wide by a madman’s hook, the skin of a stolen face pulled drum-taut by sinew wires drilled into the back of his skull. The fleshsmith of the Emperor’s Children reaches behind him and produces a handful of steel-jacketed vials. They glint in the dim light of the companionway, each one acid-etched with the Ultima of Macragge.

Dzyban cultists- Six cultists, swathed in a riot of colours: electric blues, shocking pinks and nauseating purples. They wear hoods, but he can see the scarification and piercings, the tattoos and the toxic discolouration of their flesh. Equipped with autoguns, hooked daggers.

 

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Arrian Zorzi- A world eater wearing mostly grey armour with pitted plates and remnants of blue and white that is gone by the time of the story A Memory of Tharsis , it is stained by black mold and blood stains. Six skulls are chained over his torso, butcher nails implants can still be seen on the skulls dangling down like some barbaric tabard. chains are tied around his arms and chest. He is equipped with grenades, apothecary equipment and two falax blades, their sheathes being on his hips. His face is scarred. His caduceus symbol is faded. Noted to be larger than Saqarra. Not a chaos worshipper. Two of his skulls owners are known Braais and Haruk.

Clonelord- The two were a study in contrast, for all that they were both Space Marines. Arrian was the larger of the two. While his power armour might once have been the blue and white of the Twelfth Legion, the pitted plates of ceramite were now almost all a uniform, bare grey, where they were not stained a dull, reddish brown. A sextet of cracked and yellowing skulls hung artfully arranged from his chest-plate, wreathed in chains, their cortical implants dangling like some barbaric tabard. More chains covered his torso and arms, as if he sought to keep something within himself securely contained. Beneath these chains, he bore the accoutrements of his rank – including an ancient narthecium, the runnels of its diamond-tipped drill caked in dried blood. Krak grenades. Arrian paced after him, grinning tightly beneath his helmet. He could feel the nails biting, and the ghosts of his brothers clustered about him, whispering their encouragement. As it faded, he saw Kasra lunge.

Arrian jerked aside at the last moment. The blade sliced through a cable on his helm, leaving himself open to a blow that bisected the servos in his right greave. The World Eater didn’t answer. Impact craters marked his battleplate, and the carbonised slashes of power weapons decorated his chest and limbs. He slashed at Alkenex with his blades, moving with the disjointed rhythm of the injured. That he had held on this long was impressive. Long enough for Fabius’ mutants to launch a counter-attack. Long enough to make a mess of Alkenex’s carefully orchestrated strategy.

The vatborn were already at work when he arrived, stripping Arrian of his armour and tending to his wounds. The World Eater was barely conscious; blood loss had caught up with him quickly. Fabius ignored his attempts to speak.

Manflayer- Arrian was both the epitome and antithesis of his Legion – his power armour, once blue and white, was now almost a uniform, bare grey. A sextet of cracked and yellowing skulls, dotted with cortical implants, hung in chains from his chestplate like a savage tabard. More chains were looped about his bare arms and waist. Beneath them, he wore the tools of his trade – the narthecium and medical kit of a Legion Apothecary. He wore no helm, exposing blunt, scarred features that might once have been handsome. Cortical implants streaked back from his skull like braided hair, and service studs dotted his brow. His hands rested on the pommels of the Falax blades sheathed at his sides. They were the only weapons he carried these days. Instead, he snatched a concussion grenade from his belt and thumbed the activation rune.

Arrian swung the rifle up, studying it just long enough to figure out how it functioned. He tracked one of the lumbering brutes and pulled the trigger. Stung, the creature slapped at itself. As it turned, its flesh began to bubble and writhe. It gave a strangely shrill bellow as it was consumed by a rapid transformation. Arrian lowered the rifle.

Looks like you’re not going to make it to your master’s side, dog-brother. Arrian smiled. Slowly, he deactivated the chem-pumps that controlled the flow of calmatives and pain suppressors into his system. The Nails bit instantly, as fresh as the day they’d been inserted. He prised a sputtering chainaxe from the grip of a dead war-mutant. The weapon was heavy, but he lifted it easily. It ends as it began, eh, dog-brother? ‘So it seems, Briaeus,’ Arrian said. Flashes of pain danced across his mind and coiled tight about his spine. His grin widened as a flood of adrenaline flushed the last of the calmatives from his system.

 

[MolotovKraken]

Saqarra Thresh- A word bearer diabolist from the dark council of Sicaris. He wore battered crimson armour covered in cramped curling script and blasphemous iconography and fluttering streams of parchment. He is fang mothed, pinch faced and has scars along the curve of his skull and the tight line of his jaw. He is equipped with a bolt pistol, and on his belt is grenades, a curvy athame knife with an oily sheen and flasks of glass and clay etched in sigils and banded in iron. On sublime he wears a cowl and cloak when under cover.

Diabolist of the Seventh Choir, Clonelord- Saqqara, on the other hand, had never been an Apothecary, or anything close. There was not, so far as Arrian was aware, an official designation for what the Word Bearer was. What did you call one who wielded daemons the way another might use a blade? Other than unpleasant. Livid suture scars marked the Word Bearer’s exposed flesh, following the curve of his skull and the tight line of his jaw. He was clad in battered crimson power armour. The plates were covered in line upon line of cramped, curling script where they were not adorned with blasphemous iconography or fluttering streamers of brittle parchment. The helmet magnetically clamped to his belt was similarly marked. Strange bottles of clay and glass hung from his armour, each one sealed with wax and marked with warding sigils. Within them, the indistinct shapes of captive Neverborn coiled and slithered, impatient for release. Saqqara idly stroked the bottles as he studied the readouts alongside Arrian. Arrian studied him, palms resting on the pommels of the twin Falax blades sheathed at his waist. A miniaturised fragmentation detonator, keyed to the Chief Apothecary’s brain activity, had been surgically implanted in the Word Bearer’s skull. So long as Fabius Bile’s mind was functional, so was Saqqara. It provided quite the incentive, and Saqqara was nothing if not a born survivor. Key jerked its hand loose of Fabius’, and swayed towards Saqqara, carved eyes fixed on the crimsonarmoured renegade. Saqqara met Key’s blank gaze without flinching. The former corsair’s pale fingers traced the Colchisian runes that marked his battleplate, its mouth moving silently. The Word Bearer endured its attentions stoically. For whatever reason, the creature seemed fascinated by him. It was as if he were a book it could not wait to begin reading anew. Saqqara sat in meditation, his flesh bare to the stifling humidity of his quarters. His crimson battleplate stood nearby, arrayed on its rack of iron and bone, awaiting the call to service once more, his weapons hanging from it. His precious bottles of glass and clay sat around him, arranged according to the old rites. The things within them murmured incessantly, like the tides of the empyrean, washing over the rocks of his soul.. Saqqara glanced at his armour, with its wine-dark hue. There were currently three hundred and forty-seven approved hues for battleplate within the Legion. That number changed, depending on the whims of the Dark Council. Following those whims was considered another virtue. The Word Bearer stood silently behind him, features hidden behind the crimson plates of his helm.

Saqqara turned, and popped open the flask. The thing inside spewed forth, like a gout of smoke. The Word Bearer gestured and the daemon-smoke coiled about his hand for a moment, before shooting off into the maze of tiers. He repeated the process several times, whispering to each.
Saqqara, surrounded by the elemental shapes of lesser Neverborn, hurling a flask filled with raging daemon shapes. Saqqara’s harsh voice rose to a commanding shriek. Formless daemons suddenly surged past them. They were lesser things, lacking a god-given shape, but strong enough to sweep metal bodies aside or occupy the hovering wraith-shapes that had stalked the retreating Space Marines since Fabius’ disappearance. ‘They’re retreating,’ Saqqara said, lowering his bolt pistol. ‘Why?’

Manflayer- His tattooed flesh was scraped free of hair, and marked by livid suture scars. The plates of his battered crimson power armour were covered in line upon line of tight Colchisian script, where they were not marked by prayer scrolls or blasphemous iconography. Strange bottles of clay and glass hung from his armour. Each was sealed by wax, and marked with warding sigils to contain the entities squirming within. The daemons were chittering and hissing loud enough to be annoying – like animals demanding attention.

Saqqara’s gaze could be unnerving at times. It was too steady, too open. A fanatic’s gaze, full of light and fire. Arrian met it without flinching. He supposed he was a fanatic as well, of a sort.

The Word Bearer sat cross-legged amid a circle of smouldering incense bowls. Beside him was a smaller tray of sacred oils and a stone knife. As Fabius watched, he dipped the knife into the oils and ran the blade over his pate, scraping away at the bristle of hair there. Saqqara stood and began to dress himself in a set of plain, grey robes.

He looked at the huddled form within. It gasped slightly as it stirred from the slumber of stasis and blinked uncomprehending eyes sleepily. There was nothing behind that lavender gaze, no intellect. But there was a soul, of sorts. Barely formed and untainted.

A robed and hooded form stepped out from among the trees. Vials and flasks clinked beneath the rustling cloth, and the air seemed watery about the newcomer’s head and shoulders – as if something beyond Skalagrim’s perceptions crouched on his shoulders. Saqqara drew back his hood. He’d stopped shaving his head, and a mane of pale hair spilled down and curled about his tattooed features. Some of his tattoos had been scraped away or redone by less sure hands. One of his eyes was milky white. The other, yellow and slitted, like that of some predatory felinoid.

 

[MolotovKraken]

Igori- A muscular, square faced gland hound with a symmetrical body. She wore a necklace of marine teeth and had a blade on her hip. Her height is just shy of transhuman. Smokes narc-sticks. Old by the time of Clonelord. Hair the color of of ice. Still wore battered fatigues and battle armour. More teeth on her necklace.

Clonelord- Though they looked human, they were not. Or, rather, they were the epitome of the human. The apex of the species, wrought from raw flesh by the hands of the one they called Benefactor. Gland-hounds. Angelhunters. Devils incarnate, by any other name. The pale, malformed members of the Vesalius’ crew were scattered before them, like vermin before hungry felids. And the hungriest of them all was their matriarch, Igori. She was old now, her hair the colour of ice, her skin tight over muscle and bone. All excess flesh carved away by time’s passage. She still wore the battered fatigues and battle-armour that had carried her through the corkscrew streets of Sublime and the wraithbone corridors of Lugganath, still wore her necklace of Adeptus Astartes teeth – heavier now, with new additions, click-clacking against her chest. Her hand rested on the eldar shuriken pistol thrust through her belt, as she stopped before Arrian. Her pack set up an ululation at her words. A primal shriek of joy that set the beast within Arrian snarling. Not in pleasure, but in warning. He studied them through hooded eyes, noting the enhanced musculature, the chiselled, too-perfect features – like statues come to life. Though these statues were dressed in scavenged bits of battleplate and mismatched fatigues, rather than the finery of better days. Igori crouched atop the rail of the observation deck, lined features knit in concentration. She glanced at him, one hand idly toying with her necklace of teeth. He studied her with an Apothecary’s eye. She had lost some mass, as the years chipped away all but the most necessary of flesh and muscle. Her hair had turned the colour of ice, but her eyes were still vibrant.

He looked down at her, seeing, for a moment, the child she had been, so many centuries ago. Thin, malnourished, barely human. He had drawn out the best of her and made her worthy of his gifts. And she was. They all were. They were survivors. Pure and untarnished by the weaknesses of previous generations.

She absently cleaned her knife on her trousers and sheathed it.

He set to work on Igori, quickly ripping open her armour and clothes to expose the wound. She had fallen unconscious somewhere between the command deck and the apothecarium. That she had remained conscious for as long as she had was astounding. Despite the damage it had sustained on Solemnace, the chirurgeon knew what to do. When he was satisfied that she would live, he stepped back to allow the vatborn to tend to her. They would take better care of her than her own kin.

Manflayer- Sleep now well and truly banished, she dressed swiftly, pulling on battered fatigues and retrieving her knife from the stand near the bed. There were other weapons she could have taken, but the knife had always been her favourite. She did not look much different from the last time he’d seen her. Age had her in its claws, but hadn’t brought her down yet. He could smell the stimms on her sweat and hear the strain in her breathing. Her hand rested on her knife. As if she did not trust him. Igori sat atop her throne, an ancient barbarian queen whom even death could not conquer. Her hair had grown out since he’d last seen her, and now fell about her shoulders like a spill of ice. Her bare flesh was marked by pale scars and faded tattoos, and the battle-gear she wore was battered, but clean. An aeldari shuriken pistol hung in its holster from the top of her throne, within easy reach. The hatch slid open, admitting a tall figure. Igori was much changed since he’d last seen her. But the look in her eyes was all too familiar. Her face was seamed by experience as well as age. It bore nearly a century of new scars. But it was the same face. Igori lowered her pistol, and after a moment’s hesitation, holstered it.

It was as if two beings overlaid and intermingled with one another. One moment, the face was Igori’s, the next Melusine’s.

 

[Hjallecalibur]

Apothecary Gorel- He had red armour that flexed like a second skin as the drug pumps affixed to his power unit hissed. Weirdly coloured smoke emitted from the vents of his helmet. The servitor behind him had its mouth replaced a dispenser node studded with chemical tanks and a profusion of canisters.

I love this guy's concept and want to build him... but im not so sure how I should do it.
I was going for a Obliterator with a Goliath Zerker arm... but it felt to big and inhumane.
Then I'm thinking a terminator/khorn berserker with parts from a stimmer, maybe that would work better.. ans Khorag is a terminator so not an impossible idea, but im not sure

The picture I do get is Bane from Batman, and I would love to make him into a 40k version.

If anyone have any ideas on how I could go forth with this idea, I would with open arms take suggestions!

 

[Korra]

I love this guy's concept and want to build him... but im not so sure how I should do it.
I was going for a Obliterator with a Goliath Zerker arm... but it felt to big and inhumane.
Then I'm thinking a terminator/khorn berserker with parts from a stimmer, maybe that would work better.. ans Khorag is a terminator so not an impossible idea, but im not sure

The picture I do get is Bane from Batman, and I would love to make him into a 40k version.

If anyone have any ideas on how I could go forth with this idea, I would with open arms take suggestions!

I love it when people make minis of book characters, I hope you post it when/if you do it

 

[MolotovKraken]

I love this guy's concept and want to build him... but im not so sure how I should do it.
I was going for a Obliterator with a Goliath Zerker arm... but it felt to big and inhumane.
Then I'm thinking a terminator/khorn berserker with parts from a stimmer, maybe that would work better.. ans Khorag is a terminator so not an impossible idea, but im not sure

The picture I do get is Bane from Batman, and I would love to make him into a 40k version.

If anyone have any ideas on how I could go forth with this idea, I would with open arms take suggestions!

Perhaps painting veins on the armour and adding the bare arms from some of the berserkers