Joueux Noël!

Salut gang,

Je voulais juste vous souhaiter une belle période du temps des Fêtes!

J'ai eu beaucoup de plaisir avec vous pour cette première moitié de l'année scolaire et j'ai vraiment bien rigolé hier soir :)

J'espère qeu le Père-Noël vous apportera plein de trucs de 40K, Fantasy ou LotR!

Lord G.

Des nouvelles pour jeudi....

Bon, comme plusieurs d'entre vous l'aviez deviné, un des deux films de jeudi est supposé être le nouveau film d'animation «Ultramarines»!

Il y a toutefois un hic.... J'ai reçu une confirmation vendredi le 10 décembre que le colis avait bien été envoyé, mais je n'ai toujours pas reçu le coffret avec le DVD... :(

Il ne me reste plus qu'un mince espoir, celui qu'il arrive demain et que Karina (ma femme) soit présente à la maison... mais comme elle fera du magasinage presque toute la journée... les chances sont minces... 

Je suis un peu embêté... le highlight de la soirée était supposé être le visionnement de ce film... et je ne l'ai toujours pas....

Il faudra peut-être modifier l'horaire de la soirée et remettre le soirée Pizza/Film à une autre fois... Demain soir, visitez le blog régulièrement car je vais donner les dernières informations et les ajustements de la soirée de jeudi, s'il y a lieu...

Désolé pour ça, je pensais que le shipping serait plus efficace que ça et j'avais précommandé le film il y a 2 mois pour être certain de l'avoir le plus rapidement possible...

En attendant la bonne (ou mauvaise) nouvelle, voiçi mes dernières figures de LotR!

6 Watchers of Karna

Un Bos'un et un Haradrim Commander

6 Arbalesters

À bientôt!

Lord Inquisitor G.

Update Varia

Salut gang,

Lisez jusqu'au bout, il y aura quelques informations importantes.

tout d'abord, lors de la dernière gaming day, il y avait un match de LOTR entre Zach (Easterlings) et Mathieu (Dwarves).

Ce fut un combat qui fut complètement dominé par les forces du mal. Les Easterlings ont tués plusieurs nains avec une pluie de flèches et ensuite, ils étaient tellement nombreux qu'ils ont massacrés tous les autres nains au corps à corps... sauf un... Daïn!!! Il était seul contre environ 20 esterlings et... croyez le ou non, il les a tous détruits!!!!

Une petite image vers la fin du carnage :)

Un petite photo de mes Khornate Chaos Warriors pour Maxime Farley. S'il t'intéresse toujours, ré-écrit moi un courriel!

J'ai avancé mes projets de LOTR. Voiçi un Haradrim Chieftain. Remarquez les pierres précieuses dans le dos et le boût de la lance en os.

Un Corsair. Il n'ont pas une bonne armure, mais ils ont un bon fighting value et des Throwing Knives :)

Informations variées, mais importantes.

• Il y aura une game vendredi!!! Et je veux re-jouer à lotr :) Ceux qui jouent à lotr, on en reparle demain, mais on pourrait faire une rotation de game pour être certain qu'on puisse jouer contre tous le monde.

• Jeudi le 23 décembre, ce sera la gaming, pizza and movies night (de 14h00 à 21h00) !!!!!!!! Il y aura une feuille d'autorisation parentale à faire signer par vos parents avant mardi prochain.

• Si vous savez déjà que vous allez venir, apportez 10$ demain (jeudi) pour la pizza et les breuvages qui seront fournis pour l'heure du souper (juste avant les deux films. Je suis convaincue que je vais en surprendre plus d'un avec mes choix, mais ce sera hyper divertissant!!!)

Bon, j'espère que je n'oublie rien. Sinon, je vous en parle demain.

Lord. G.

The awakening of the necrons

The young wolf scout went down the jet black stairs, disappearing in darkness that even his senses enhanced by the dreaded Canis Helix had trouble piercing.

He was alone; his pack shot down by a corrupted space marine patrol and doomed to find his way out of chaos territory. He knew he should not have stopped upon seeing the strange, black column emerging from the ground in the forest.

The stairs were stretching endlessly.

The nature around the column indicated that it have been there for centuries, maybe even more, but it was left untouched by the ages, as good as new. It was made of a strange metal he had never seen before and was adorned by a single strange symbol which started to glow an unholy green at his approach.

He finally reached the stairs at the end and entered a large chamber which seemed made of the same metal as the column and the stairs.

As the entranced opened in front of him, he knew that he just found something. He was not going back now that he had a new discovery to add to his saga. As he was passing the entrance, he thought for a moment of how foolish he was, but shoved this thought away: the honour of discovery shall be his.

He looked back to the stairs and noticed the ornamental statue guarding it. It represented a kind of skeletal robot armed with a strange gun ending with a wicked blade. The statue remembered him of something, a story that he had with the scout sergeant around a campfire, but he could not remember what.

He stepped closer and advanced his hand to touch it. He was so close of remembering, maybe it could help him. It was made of the same metal he had seen from the start, how strange...

The story exploded in his head and he knew what this thing were ; a necron; one of a million unholy robots powered by lethal gauss energy. A part of an endless tide of self-repairing metal whose guns would tear you out atom by atom until there is nothing left to see. Going down there was a very bad idea.

Absorbed in his revelation, he missed the mechanical revving that started all around the room. He did not miss, however, the green glow that appeared in the statue’s cold eye socks.

He reacted with astonishing speed, the speed of the mighty astartes, took his chain sword and, even as the atrocious being readied his gun that glowed with gauss energy, tried to take his head off. The mighty adamantine blade bounced off the strange metal, causing no apparent damage.

Unaffected, the necron warrior unleashed hell. A continuous arc of sick green energy touched the wolf scout, efficiently disintegrating his armour. Before it took away his flesh, the space marine struck again with his chain sword and this time managed to attain his target’s nervous system.

The necron collapsed on the ground, green arcs of unholy green energy coursing all upon his wrecked body.

The wolf scout hadn’t noticed it yet in his battle frenzy, but a dim green glow was now illuminating the room. It was huge, long and large. He took a run to the other end, from where the glow seemed to come from and discovered it was a balcony. He glimpsed out of it and was astonished. An even huger, circular space was out there with a lot more balconies all around it. He allowed himself to look down. It was stretching down endlessly with innumerable more levels, each of them containing dozens of balconies. It was stretching even so endlessly that the mighty space wolf, even with his eyes a thousand time better than those of a mere human, could not see the bottom of it that seemed to disappear in the source of the sick glow.

Instantly, he stepped back and took off his vox-communicator and described the necron tomb and gave his position. So doing, everyone would know of the rising necron threat. He was now sure to not get out of there without getting caught by chaos space marines, but such discovery was all the more important than his life. Mid-Way through, he saw something walk out of the floor. It was an elongated necron that seemed to shift in and out of reality, hovering on and through obstacles as if they were mere mist to him. It seemed to agitate his foot long, scalpel-like and horribly sharp fingers in his direction as if it was a challenge.

The astarte remembered the fire-camp stories of his sergeant and knew a mere space marine could not best such a beast. But yet, he had a last card to play.
Forgetting all caution, he took off his helmet and called upon the curse that had been his all these long years. He let his permanent control over his genetic curse flicker and disappear, knowing full well there was no coming back now. His body twisted, bone and muscle fusing while long claws tore through his gauntlets. Fur sprout everywhere and sharp fangs grew in his fast lengthening mouth. In bare seconds, the curse of the wulfen took its toll and, letting go of his humanity, the cursed space wolf howled all his fury to the unholy creature facing him.

His horrible sounds of agony were broadcasted by his still-functionning vox-communicator everywhere in a fifty miles radius. The space wolves, recognizing one of their own in the wulfen sounds, fast arrived to see what happened. The new inquisitor of the ordo malleus, having just arrived, gathered his forces and went there to purge whoever did it and both factions made an uneasy truce in order to clean the necrons emerging from the ground. They were few and victory seemed easy when dark eldar emerged from the webway, seeming to reinforce the necrons.

Carnage by the Woodland - by Maxime Farley

Carnage by the Woodland

Today shall be a fine day to offer sacrifices to the Gods, thought Arch-Magus Rajaxx, as he looked about the field before him.

Behind him stood the finest Tzeentchian warriors he could manage to find in such short notice. It was imperative those heathens never discovered of what was going on in the groove nearby.

Next to him lay the Branchwraith, lured to work for him, to his death, if necessary, by the Dark Arts his patron gifted him. His Elf friends weren’t so easily convinced to fight their own kind, be they of noble origins or not, but his magic had yet to fail him.

Scrying the advance of the enemy, Rajaxx realized they had recruited aid in their way here. Peasants, all of them. They might still posed a threat. He should especially consider the Pegasus’s and the knights mounting them.

If I had enough time, I’d summon a Dragon of Chaos and see them flee like the pest they represent.

He, however, was here to buy time for his fellow Magi, and would succeed or die trying.

He started ordering people around, sending him warriors here and there, with support from the Branchwraith and his fellow nymphs, and the Elf archery to aid the mounted Knights of Pestilence. A ‘kind’ gift of Zalgo, the regional Lord of Pestilence. Nuisances, especially to the nose, but they had their use.

Sighting a Noble with his detachment of Dragon Knights, Rajaxx decided he would involve himself more personally into the matter, and bid a guard of 12 Warriors to his side. They would make short work of most physical threats, the Magi overcoming any and all magic flung at them.

Elves had an unnerving tendency towards sending Archmages whenever they found the occasion to do so.

…

The sounds of war raged around him, blood swirling in a tempest of blades and lances. The knights proved more than resilient, and Rajaxx decided to interfere. Uttering long-forgotten curses and prayers to the darkest of gods, he bestowed the great Gifts of the Gods upon a Warrior lying next to him. The Exalted Champion of Chaos distracted the Noble long enough for his entourage to be slain, and in a vain attempt to save his life, the remaining Elf turned his mount and ran. Until, that is, the ground fell before him, twisting, maddening flames overcoming him and his ride. He was a mere puddle of messy gore when Rajaxx walked past him with what was left of his guard.

To his left, he faintly realized the Nymphs had all but been butchered, dying to the last in a futile attempt to please their new lord. Concerned about the White Lions chariot running towards them, Rajaxx saw the rain of death at about the same time the elves did. The chariot was swarm with a multitude of magical Elfic arrows, and as they ripped through wood and flesh alike, Rajaxx knew no worry would come from them.

On the far side of the battlefield, the Pestilent Knights met the Knights of the Realm into combat. All the flashy clothes they wore could not be compared to the age old armors of Chaos the undying fiends wore. The sparkling new lances they brought crashing into the deathless warriors were comparable to wooden training swords next to the ensorcelled weapons their opponents flung at them.

Once side had finesse, training and expertly laid tactics, the Bretonnian ‘Lance’.

The other had strength, experience and sheer brutality on their side.

As the bringers of death met the Lance in charge, a litteral barrage of blistering gore followed them. As they lost one man, they butchered the entire knight regiment, and properly followed their trail to meet a group of bowmen into battle. Battle? Carnage. If knights could barely hold them, what hope might a group of barely armed peasants have? They must have realized so, as they fled before the mowing death of Grand-Father Nurgle.

…

Bringing himself out of his visions of the battlefield, Rajaxx barely realized his guards had trampled the enemy Archmage and his own guards. No survivors, no quarters, no pity.

Unopposed, Rajaxx started to summon the Winds of Magic like never before, blasting apart Rifts of pure Chaos under the foots of the remaining enemies, sending waves after waves of fiery death upon unsuspecting victims.

Using both treachery and raw Chaotic firepower, he brought his whole power to bear against the mounted Pegasus’s knights. His masters had been clear: no witnesses. Their plan would suffer no interruptions.

As the last feather consumed itself in the flickering fires of Tzeentch, Rajaxx overviewed the battlefield. He had lost a little over half of the Tzeentchian warriors, a terrible loss but nevertheless replaceable. He barely registered the fact the Wood Elves fled back into their woods. A search party would be sent after them. And not to rescue them.¸

Of the Bretonians, naught remained. A few peasants here and there, fleeing for their lives. A group of elves dared dwell further into the woods, confident backup would be on the way. They probably fell upon one of the numerous magical traps surrounding the groove where the Conclave focused their powers.

The Lord Daemon Prince would come back into this world. Kholek the Suneater, the Bringer of Darkness, Tempest Incarnate, would be heard of once more.

And once into this world, there would be no stopping him…

As recorded by Archmagus Rajaxx, a short time before the second coming of the Daemon Kholek.

Approved and verified by my hand

Maxime Farley, Everchosen of Chaos, Lord of Terror

The rise of the Soul Tearers part 1

The wind in Tariel’s hair, the orders bellowed by the sybarites to each lesser warrior and the keen sound of the powering up klaives of his incubi bodyguards; the steady gliding of the raiders around him, the impossible sounds of their aethersails capturing ethereal winds and the sour smell of the huskblade in his right hand; the sweat gliding down the hesitant farseer’s face, the hunger of the ever-hungry soul-trap in his right hand and the unholy light glowing from this arcane artefact. All of these sensations were exploding in the archon’s mind with an impossible strength that only a true eldar could withstand and Tariel was no mere eldar, but the archon of the kabal of the soul tearers and, with his senses keened up to astonishing levels through the ages, the pleasure he took from this encounter in realspace was barely sustainable. He hoped to leap in the fray soon, but he could not at this very moment.

The plan was still too clear in his head to let it all fall apart now. He had himself repeated it again and again to his fellow warriors a dozen times over and he knew that every single one of them will obey it at the letter. For, if eldars fought each other endlessly for power in the dark city, in battle they knew that the success of the operation and so doing their loot in prisoners and riches was primordial.

The raid had started well, plenty of slaves coming in until the space marines came, most powerful of their feeble race. With their primitive weaponry they menaced his men’s soft flesh. He noticed that part of those ugly warriors were chaos space marines, most of them sworn to a chaos god, but still none of them affiliated with Slaanesh. Instantly, he recognized his mistake, such name was not to speak in the mundane realm.

In a split-second, his mind opened up to the warp, The Great Enemy, having heard his soul utter his name, found his way up to him and plunged his mind in impossible pain.
He dropped to his knees as She Who Thirst started to drain his essence. With his last splinter of conscience, before being lost in endless agony, he activated his shadow field.

It instantly manifested and The Great Ennemy was fast shoved away by the protective shadows of a realm that only the ethereal mandrakes really understood.
His vision sharpened and he stepped up, none of his incubi bodyguards seeming to notice anything. He knew that they saw and understood everything, but the only thing that stirred up such eldars was the occasion to kill an enemy. He was lucky to have such incorruptible warrior by his side, most of his trueborns, especially Hamlet, would have taken this as an occasion and butchered him without a thought.

He turned his eyes back to the fire front; the space marines, whatever their allegiance, were starting to take back control of the city. The fact that such slugs could beat him, whose family once ruled the star themselves, made him furious, but this was not the time. Then, he had an idea.
He ordered to his men to fall back and, laughing hysterically, he turned to his pet, the feeble-kin eldar that called himself a farseer. The irony being that he did not see Terial coming. His pet suffered the attention of his personal haemonculus and it was a resilient feeble-kin. It took weeks, and some organ grafting, for him to finally break, but now he was obedient as a dog.

It him a minute to stop his hilarity, but he finally calmed himself and took a deep breath. He glared in his pet’s eyes and ordered with a brutal authority;
-Call your ugly craftworld and tell them that you saw they had to fight at our side to stop certain genocide.

His laugh started anew and did not diminish until the once-proud farseer collapsed on the ground, his mind exhausted to transmit a message through the chaotic warp.
Two days later... an ancient webway gate two miles from the dark eldar position came flickering to life...

W.I.P. de Lord Inq. G.

Salut gang,

J'ai dernièrement beaucoup avancé mon armée de l'empire.

J'ai painter:

• 20 halberdiers
• 10 Greatswords
• 1 Mortar and Crew
• 1 Wizard

Voici mon nouveau Wizard!

 
Pour les «roses» qui sont d'un rouge éclatant, j'ai utilisé les couleurs suivantes:

• Basecoat:      Scab Red
• 1rst highlight: Red Gore
• 2nd highlight: Mix 1:1 de Red Gore et de Blood Red
• 3nd highlight: Red Blood

J'aime bien le contraste entre le rouge pétant et les couleurs sombres qui comportent le reste du Wizard.

Aussi, pour l'effet métalique pour la grande faux, c'est très simple et ça parait bien:

• Basecoat:      Boltgun Metal
• 1rst highlight: Mithril Metal
• Wash:           Badab Black

Qu'en pensez-vous?


Aussi, j'ai quelques projets pour les 7-10 prochains jours (dépend de bébé). J'avais quelques figurines de LoTR qui me faisaient de l'oeil depuis quelques temps... Ça va aggrandir mon armée de Harad et de Corsairs! (Zacharie, on ce fera une alliance contre les pouilleux d'elfs et les gros nains poilus; mouhahah!).

• 6 Watchers of Karna
• 6 Arbalesters
• 1 Bos'un
• 1 Harad Chieftain

Ben voilà!

J'espère que plusieurs seront présent pour la game de vendredi.

Lord Inq. G.

40K Battle Report 3

Un petit Battle Report de 40K, question de rendre vos 2 journées de congé un peut plus excitante!

Vendredi prochain, ils en a qui sont partant pour un autre gaming day?

Moi, je suis partant pour une game de Fantasy ou Lotr, si quelqu'un a envi d'un bon défi :)

J'aimerais aussi savoir qui seraient partant pour l'après-midi gaming-pizza-cinéma qui aurait probablement lieu jeudi le 23 décembre. J'ai déjà en t^te quelques films qui, j'en suis convaincu, sauront vous stimuler au maximum au niveau poésie, romance et discussion philosophique....... Je vous ferai la surprise en temps et lieu, mais vous ne serez pas déçu: C'EST GARANTI!

W.I.P soul drinkers ; A'Nark'Adon

Salut la gang.

Puisque Lord Inquisitor G est très occupé ces temps-ci et n'a que très peu de temps pour le blog, il m'a donné les droits de poster sur le blog afin de le maintenir en vie. Alors sans tarder : mes work in progress :

Vendredi dernier, puisqu'on avait congé, j'ai décidé de commencer à assembler mes nouveaux raiders puisqu'ils me narguaient du haut de leur boîtes puisque je n'avait pas de colle plastique. Mon matin de modélisme s'est transformé de lui-même en journée de modélisme XD.

Alors voila, j'ai assemblé mes 3 raiders qui sont beaucoup mieux que les anciens dont deux sont destinés à des squads de kabalite trueborns ( les dark eldar mis au monde naturellement et non par croissance dans un gros aquarium) et ceux-là sont plutôt semblables alors que le troisième transportera mon archon et mes 5 incubi alors celui-ci est voulu pour être pimped up

Remarquez que mes nouveaux raiders tiennent parfaitement sur leur base transparente sans aucune colle!!!! ce qui n'est absolument pas le cas des anciens qui ont légèrement tendance à s'évacher partout XD

Pas grand chose à dire de plus puisque je n'ai pas fait de conversion vraiment. Ah oui une chose : pour ceux qui le savent il est sensé y avoir des dark eldar accrochés aux rebords des raiders. Et bien je vais peinturer ceux-ci séparément et ensuite les coller (ce sera bcp plus facile de cette façon)




Ensuite, A'Nark'Adon, j'ai fait beaucoup de travail sur lui. Premièrement j'ai fini la colonne vertébrale avec un 2e wash de devlan mud qui la rend vraiment sale (et c'est l'effet voulu et oui). J'ai également très bien commencé sa grosse claw en faisant la figure sur son endos, son métal ainsi que les mini griffes d'os qui en sortent.




J'ai aussi peinturé les tubes qui acheminent le warp-fuel vers son mawcannon et peinturé la garde d'os de son épée avec du skull white et un wash de devlan mud (je n'arriverai plus jamais à m'en passer!!!)

Pour finir, observez les super incubi et comment ils n'ont même pas besoin de tête pour apparaître BAD-ASS!!!!!!


Comment and Review appreciated
N'oubliez pas : si vous voulez mettre de quoi sur le blog vous pouvez me l'envoyer et ça me fera plaisir de le poster aussi!!!

A Prayer by the Stir River - by Mister G.

A Prayer by the Stir River

Reinïger spat on the ground. How could those foul followers of chaos be so much south? This was Stirland, by Sigmar’s name, not Kislev!

The great river Stir was known for a lot of bad things, especially here, so close to Sylvania. Thieves and pirates were bad enough. But lately, the greenskins were pretty active near the mountains of World’s End Edge. There were also more and more rumors about the «walking dead». It had been a while since Stirland had problems with these.

A full army of Chaos Warriors (not those common savages from the North, but the mighty fighters of legends) clad in what looked like impenetrable armors was probably something unheard of in Stirland for at least a generation.

- Markus?

- Yes Emmerich.

- The General and the knights are ready on the right flank.

Markus spat on the ground again.

- All right, let’s see if those walking studs can withstand the strengh of Sigmar’s children.

Emmerich smiled, but it was a nervous one. The Celestial mage hadn’t seen much fighting since he left Altdorf. He had a good magical potential and he had done what he could against some greenskins and a little skirmish with some Highelves in the last weeks.

Markus Reinïger lowered his head and started singing a prayer to Sigmar. He could hear the men behind him gripping their halberds tighter while joining the singing. Soon, the whole army was chanting, the prayer gaining momentum and strength.

He was proud of them because they were all scared of this new, unknown foe they would have to fight today. He was proud because they were showing guts and Markus Reinïger, lowly Warrior Priest of Sigmar, wasn’t about to let them down. He was about to show all those free men how to crack open some Chaos armor.

He looked left and saw the Flagellants dancing and singing and mutilating themselves while waiting to die for Sigmar. The Greatswords were ready, as always.

On the right flank, he saw the young General and his knights, impatient, on his mighty steed, waiting for the signal he and the priest had arranged. The swordsmen were hiting their shilds with their swords in unisson with the beat of the song. The whole army was ready to stand and fight for their homeland.

He took the two warhammers from his side and raised them both over his head and the whole Empire army fell silent.The Chaos army was ready to advance and he saw armored sorcerers strating to weave the winds magic.

It was time.

- By Sigmar!!! Let’s show these spiky assholes how it’s done!

The Empire army answered with a great roar and then, all hell broke lose. The artillery shot their payload all at once, the handgunners and the crossbowmen joining the lethal barrage.

The Chaos army was now advancing and closing the gap, suffering casualties; not as many as Reinïger would have liked. Those chaos armors were not for show. Beside him, Emmerich was trying to close the ennemies magic as best as he could. At least 2 Sorcerers were summoning curses and hexes. So far, the Celestial mage was succesfull in containing the evil magic.

On the right flanck, Markus saw that the General was wounded and having trouble with several Chaos Warriors of Nurgle and one of the Sorcerer. A few knights laid dead already.

He couldn’t do anything to help now. A large unit of Marauders were fast approaching the center of the Empire line. Reinïger and his halberdiers, supported by the swordsmen, crashed in them like a tidal wave. The northmen were strong but the disciplined and fury of his men was to great for the followers of Chaos.

Around Reinïger, the battle was raging. Even so, he could hear the screams of the flagellants being butchered on the left flank. They had to hold the flank. Hopefully, the Greatwords were not far.

Then, Markus saw one of the mighty Sorcerer, his thick armor crackling with eldritch energy. With a voice full of confidence, he launched a challenge to the sorcerer who accepted, laughing at this feeble opponent. Without losing a second, Reinïger furiously assaulted the Sorcerer who was caught flatfooted and had to backup.

Each hit by Markus was of a strengh and a speed the Sorcerer had never thought possible from a feeble human unblessed by the Chaos Gods.

The Sorcerer tried to fight back but he was now slow, feeble and… bleeding?

- Impossible… the gods are abandoning me.

Reinïger started laughing.

- That’s all you’ve got, Sorcerer? Pathetic excuses?

He crashed one of his hammer right on the chest of his opponent and saw blood pourring out of the Chaos helmet.

- What did you think? That we would not fight for our homes, our friends, our families? You tought we would flee before you, like weaklings?

He blocked a desperated strike from the Sorcerer with his left warhammer and then spun on himself while crouching, gaining momentum with his other warhammer and smashing the kneecap of the chaos worshipper.

- Sigmar’s giving me strengh, stealing yours to make my arm obliterate your discusting face!

And while the Chaos Sorcerer was falling down, unable to support himself with his shattered knee, Markus Reinïger took a mighty upward swing with both warhammers that connected with the face of the Sorcerer, ending his life in a bloody mess.

On the left flank, the Greatswords had flanked the Chaos knights that were butchering the Flagellants. On the right side, the General and the remaining knights were riding hard to help and wipeout the Chaos survivors.

Then, coming from behind an abandonned house, a big unit of Khornate warriors appeared in front of Reinïger and his halberdiers. Those were out for blood and vangeance, not victory. A shiver ran trough Markus’s body. More of his friends would die today.

Then… Kaboum!!

Reinïger was blinking in surprise. Half the Khornates warriors laid dead, most of them cut in half by a perfect shot by the Great Cannon team on the hill behind them. «Sigmar bless them!»

The remainging warriors of Khorne left running, knowing they would not be able to achieve anything, not anymore.

A great roar came from all the men around him. They had done it. They had fend off a Chaos warparty , a first in Stirland in 20 years! Reinïger looked around him and saw the grin in the faces of those surrounding him. This was a great victory, and besides the Flagellants, they hadn’t suffered great casualties. He saw the Celestial mage walking slowly towards him.

- So Emmerich Weber, missing the taverns of the great capital city yet?

- Never had such a bloody headache in Altdorf… even after that time i drank beer with a dwarf…

Reinïger looked more closely at Emmerich and saw that the mage had suffered. Blood was coming out of his eyes, nose and ears. He looked confused.

- You okay, Weber?

- Nothing time will not heal.

- Good, you did a good job today, for a town boy. Shutting all that Chaos magic by yourself.

- You were not so bad yourself, Markus. I saw you destroy that Sorcerer. Did you use that little mirror I gave you?

- I did. In the end, I think the Sorcerer felt like his gods abandonned him. He never suspected that such a little thing could do what it did to him.

- Glad it helped.

- Yes, me too. Time to go pray Sigmar for our victory. And then, Emmerich, my friend, we’re gonna go have a drink with the good General. I heard he’s got some good beer. Came directly from Bugman’s Brewery.

- Bugman’s Brewery? Markus, isn’t that dwarf beer?

- The best in the Word!

Bases magnétiques! et préparation des troupes et

Étant donné qu'il y a quelques nouveaux cette année, j'ai pensé donner quelques trucs pour la préparation des modèles de 40K, Fantasy ou LotR.

Premièrement, on doit couper les morceaux voulus avec des pinces de modélisme. Il va souvent rester des boûts de plastique qui ne seront pas coupé parfaitement. Pour avoir un meilleur résultat lors de la peinture, je vous conseille d'enlever les excès avec un couteau de modélisme

Ensuite, APRÈS avoir lu votre codex ou livre d'armée et ainsi comprendre les options des troupes, je fais un assemblage sans colle pour voir si j'aime le look de mes modèles.

En collant vos modèles, assurer vous qu'ils puissent bien être positionnés un à côté de l'autre, sans écart entre les bases. Ce conseil s'applique seulement à Warhammer Fantasy :)

Quelques fois, c'est un vrai casse-tête...

 Ensuite, avec de la colle à bois (colle blanche), il faut mettre du sable sur les bases (et plaques de mouvements). J'ajout aussi quelques roches ou tas de skelettes avec de la «crazy glue» afin de donner un peu plus de personnalité à mon unité.

Je fais toujours mes bases avant de «primer» car celui-ci va sceller le sable en place et il ne va pas tomber facilement par la suite. En plus, une fois peinte, les bases seront alors vraiment durable.

Pour magnétiser vos bases maintenant :)

POURQUOI magnétisr vos bases?

• Vos troupes ne vont plus tomber lorsqu'en angle sur une montagne
• Vos bannières ne tomberont plus!
• Pas de danger de les échapper par terre
• Facilité de rangement car on peut les laisser dans leurs plateaux de mouvements et les déplacer sans crainte dans une boîte ou autre.
• Rapidité de déploiement et de rangement. Pas besoin de mettre chaque soldat un à un sur les plateux de rangement... c'est long avec une horde....

Chez bureau en gros, il y a des feuilles en aimants adhésifs et c'est pas trop dispendieux... genre 4$ pour 2 feuilles. Elles sont souples et facile à couper afin de les ajuster à vos plateaux de mouvements.

Il faut aussi des «Rare Earth Magnets». Ce sont de très petits aimants ultra-puissant. Il y en a de toutes les tailles et ça ce commande sur le net. Si certains en veulent, on pourra faire une commande ensemble car le coût du shipping est un peu chiant.

Il sufit ensuite de coller un aimant sous la base de vos modèles avec de la colle à métal, et voilà!!

Voici un exemple de l'épaisseur de la feuille d'aimant adhésif avec 10 crossbowmen dans un angle peut habituel :)

Finalement, je préfère mettre de la colle «crazy glue» sous les feuilles d'aimants (même si elles sont adhésives car je ne veut pas que ça tompe dans deux-trois mois) avant de les mettre sur les plateaux de mouvement.

Et voilà, les troupes sont maintenant basé, «primer», aimanté et prête pour de longues scéances de peinture!!!

J'espère que ces trucs vous seront utiles!

Mister G.

The Fall of Inquisitor Lord Evrard part 2 & 3 - by Gabriel CC.

It had been a long day and Elivad, the librarian commanding the task force that just wiped out space marines attackers, were finally seeing it end. Aboard a fast thunderhawk headed back to the chaos fortress of redemption. Around this one vehicle were a dozen of others just like this one, showing their efficiency during the battle. Effectively, very few loyalist astartes died during the planetstrike assault that just happened.

Using an ancient and powerful warp ritual that most librarian design as foolish, the rebellious space marines appeared out of thin air in front of the loyalist battle line. Their vehicles just behind them, they tried to use their massive firepower to destroy the blessed bastions but, having just appeared, most heavy weapons were not set upped.

Elivad remembered thinking that a rude fight awaited them, even with the few eldar warriors that offered their help, appearing from a webway gate not far from there. What he saw next was astonishing, leaving even an experienced commander like him with his jaws dropped.

Reality screamed while being clawed open and a pronounced blood stench filled the air a moment before they actually appeared. Daemons, all of them devoted to the Lord of Skulls and wearing his bloody color, teleported right in the middle of the corrupted space marines foot forces. He counted them with a horrified look on his face. 21 bloodletters, foot soldiers of Khorne armed with the dreaded hellblades, were roaring their bloodlust. Every one of their fiery breath an insult to sanity, they then looked upon the space wolves and salamanders whose power armours were no obstacle to their warp swords and launched a ferocious charge upon them.

Then Elivad remembered the battle plan and created a warp gate to teleport him and the 2^nd terminator squad right behind the first land raider, whose mighty armoured hull fast fell victim of their horribly strong thunder hammers. After the explosion of the large vehicle, the enhanced senses of his tactical dreadnought armour showed the massacre that happened in the rebellious forces.

Where once stood twenty proud and barbarous space wolves only remained cadavers. The only survivors, two grey hunters broken by the atrocities they saw, were running as if the Blood God Himself was at their pursuits. The worst of it all was that none of the bloodletters that attacked them suffered any injury. Their unholy assault wiped all before them in a bloody melee.

How could Evrard authorize the use of such horrible warp fiends? Yes they were effective, but he did not expect there would be so many of them. Even the most radical inquisitor lords were reluctant to invoke more than 5 of these and Evrard summoned 21... He even noticed a daemon prince of tzeentch not too far from here and he felt that the warp was strengthening, as if something even bigger was coming... Evrard will have to suffer the consequences of his acts.

Elivad also noticed that 4 space marines bikers were standing on the top of the wolf lord’s body, claiming his death. The librarian had never seen them, how strange.

He did not have time to investigate this, the battle needed him. He saw twenty salamanders appearing a few steps from the eldar farseer and its retinue. Calling upon the strength of his mind, he opened a warp gate for him and the 2^nd terminator squad to support them. The warp was agitated, more than he ever saw, and many horrors tried to hurt them, but none could penetrate their blessed terminator armours.

They appeared barely a few strides from the first salamander squad and crushed them in a pitifully uneven melee only to find that the other squad had suffered the farseer’s arcane strength and had been crushed to a bloody pulp under a psychic storm of a rare violence.

A roar of impossible violence hit his ears. Even through his armour’s filters it was hurtful. It was a roar of triumph and satisfaction; it was all about an impossible rage that was finally sated. Elivad turned his head to find from where it was coming. A soul grinder, Evrard also summoned a soul grinder... May the Emperor save him from his reckless idiocy. So the soul grinder’s iron claw just found another land raider’s prometheum reservoir and the heavy vehicle exploded in a fiery blast that left the dreaded mix of daemon and machine untouched and left his contents unprotected.

His content, Captain Sicarius and his honour guard. They had been known for selfless heroism and their pitiful charge was a testament to such reputation. With only two meltabombs, they tried to crack open the gigantic machinery of the daemon, but horribly failed and could not do much when the soul grinder took the head of Sicarius in his strong claw and crushed it with an unholy ease.

Another roar escaped the giant’s maw. This time it was purely of satisfaction and twice as strong as the first one. Elivad knew that this one will be greatly rewarded for the kill of such a hero. He closed his eye in pain. Such a loss... He hoped that Evrard was right and that they needed to be purged... But the fact that the corrupted ones attacked without even talking was a correct proof, for the moment...

The rest of the honour squad, demoralized by the lost of its leader, was then massacred when the bloodletters that foot slogged from their initial appearing point arrived and claimed even more skulls for their Lord.

At the very moment where the last corpse fell, it seemed as if some arcane leash had been broken. Elivad felt the warp rift slowly decreasing in size and power and the daemons slowly becoming insubstantial, but those all looked upon his troops, licking the blood on their fiery swords as if they wanted more.

In unison, the daemons of Khorne all launched a ferocious assault upon the space marines. Elivad quickly shouted orders and prepared himself for the dreaded charge to come. He had seen their efficiency and 15 bloodletters were now charging upon him, ready to claim ever more skulls for their atrocious Lord.

15 feets... His plasma pistol claimed a bloodletter, but the 2^nd terminator squad did not have any other firearms.

10 feets...

5 feets...

At the very moment he saw three hellblades rise up, aiming for his head, a gigantic and evil laugh filled the battlefield... And all the daemons collapsed into blood, their soul retreating back to the warp.

Covered in blood, Elivad started thinking... This laugh remembered him of the one battle where he fought magic and treachery, the one time he ever encountered a lord of change ; a greater daemon of Tzeentch. But this time the laugh seemed ever stronger, as the one he once fought had been a lesser being... Which daemon could dwarf a lord of change in strength and malignance? In a second, he knew. Most librarians think of him as a legend and a myth, but Elivad knew it was the only possibility...

-Fateweaver... yes...

The voice came from his back, but Elivad had already fought such a being and such mind tricks would not work twice. Why would Fateweaver come to him? Was it to seed doubt in him? No, his mind was steeled against such acts. What about Evrard... Oh no... Evrard. He felt tears of rage going through his face, washing away the blood that covered it. He knew that the servant of the Changer of Ways was gone, it’s mission accomplished.

It had been a rough day, and Elivad was not eager to see it end... In a few hours his thunderhawk will land on the captured chaos fortress. Remembering what he saw during the battle, he asked to his second in command about the 4 space marine bikers that defeated the space wolf brother captain and his wolf guard. He responded that they had no space marine bikers in his force for this battle. How strange...

Within minutes of arrival at the newly reclaimed chaos fortress, Elivad isolated himself from his men inside the thunder’s hawk communication cabin. None knew what he did inside, but some noticed that when he left it, his fists were clenched and his eyes were filled with a new and fiery resolve. No one though heard him whisper with an absolute hatred;

-Let it all be purged and anew shall we start.

Inquisitor lord Evrard was occupied at trying to cleanse this unclean place from the unholy energy that bloated it. He had still a long way to go, but His holy light had taken root and it could only be easier from now on. He was too experienced to let his nerves interfere with his work, but he was worried about the battle that was happened or was already finished. He did not know because he would not accept battle reports to be broad waved across the planet, risking to be intercepted by the chaos worshippers.

He hoped that the daemonic reinforcements he sent to his space marines gave them the might to stand and fight with three others chapters... He knew that his acts were reckless; he did not know exactly how many warp-kin he compelled to help him with the warp artefact, but such summons were never the best options. Still he also knew that it was the only option he was allowed in order to cleanse the corrupted astartes.

A servitor pulled him out of his grim thoughts. The young man revealed to him that Elivad had just arrived. The inquisitor stopped him already and rushed out to meet his trusted librarian.

He met him just out of the fortress, a few strides from the very armoured door that proved so difficult to open the first time. Elivad looked tired, but a renewed vigour shined in his gaze and Evrard knew his forces had been victorious.

-Elivad, my old friend, how did it go?

-We won, my lord, with very few casualties.

-Did the daemons assist you?

-Yes, they were very effective and numerous.

Evrard’s smile disappeared. Elivad’s face started to look a bit sad.

-What happened?

Elivad walked up to his friend and whispered three sentences in his right ear, each one tearing up his heart even more.

-These daemons were not summoned; they appeared of their own free will... Those space marines were clean... You’ve been a pawn of The Great Schemer...

Evrard was stunned and turned all these revelations over and over again in his head. At that moment, the veil was lifted. He remembered the situation of awkwardness in the hall of command; it was the sensation of concealed warp presence. How did he not notice that? Then, he finally heard the horrid and evil laugh that was hidden from him that day. The spell weaved upon him faltered and he knew how true each and every one of Elivad’s words were true. He noticed the reflections of metal far to his left and knew what had to be done. He stepped away.

-May the Emperor protect us all...

A second later, a silver bullet incrusted with dozens of holy blessing known only to the vindicare temple was shot and tore out his heart. It was a clean shot, an honourable death. Evrard did not let out a single sound of agony.

Elivad kneeled, closed the eyes of his friend and whispered;

-And so The Great Scheme claims another life. You shall pay, foul god of chaos...

He did not hear the laugh of primal malignance that echoed his thoughts in the warp, but, as he stand up, his gaze was filled with a steeled resolve.

-What are we going to do now? Asked a young brother-captain.

-Call to the Ordo Hereticus to send us another inquisitor lord, he shouted, and prepare men; for tonight, we depart again. We shall purge them in holy prometheum. Burn the unclean, all of it. Let none stay our wrath and in fire and blood shall it end!

All of the present space marines answered, their voices as one:

-And we shall know no fear!

Later that day, Elivad was inside the command thunderhawk, already in way to deliver more harm to the hated worshippers of chaos, but still dwelling on grim thoughts. The ordo Malleus will be shaken. That one of their inquisitor falled to chaos in such a short period of time will worry them more than ever. He hoped that it meant the next inquisitor they will send will be a puritain one, one that does not bargain in any way with the atrocious powers of chaos.

Those were grim times ahead of Elivad, but he knew that the Emperor’s Light could still be given to this system. Yet, this time it had to be given with swords and not words. He whispered, putting all his faith in those few words:

-The Emperor’s will shall be done.