fan based · fan made · fiction · sci fi · science fiction · space marines · Warhammer 40000 · Warhammer 40k


The city burned, fire lit up the night sky. First Captain Corvinus Adas looked upon the handiwork of his brothers with pride. Of course, the fires had been started by the very creatures that had inhabited this city before they’d arrived. The dumb animals had been in the middle of some sort of fight when they had landed via the drop pods. It had just made their job that much easier. The dead greenskins were another matter entirely.
The moment the foul orks had been made aware of their arrival, the infighting had stopped and the battle had commenced. Instead of fighting each other, they had turned to them. The firing had been intense after that. The charge down the ramps had been clean and the shooting simple enough. The weapons of their foes had been simple balistics, destructive but prone to self-destruction too. It had taken little under an hour to defeat them all.
What remained now was to find the rest of the squad and get them back together again, return to the Valiantand report to Nurion. Flicking the excess gore from his chainsword, he disregarded the broken corpse of the ork leader at his feet and tried to raise his companions via the Vox Channel, “Roll call,” he barked, needing to know who was still there. These were simple foes; there should have been no casualties.
Surprisingly, the vox was silent. He blinked and looked over his shoulder, the landscape behind him showed more burning buildings. Thick smoke curled into the atmosphere and the stench of death filled the air. Adas could not see any of his brothers and the radio was utterly silent. He tapped the side of his helmet and rolled his eyes. He would kick the ass of the servitor who had caused this malfunction, if that was indeed what it was. Static filled his ear and he spoke again, “Black Hands, Roll Call.”
“Adas, that you?” The voice of Thoss. The voice of the chaplain was welcome, not that he would let him know that.
“Third time, Roll Call!” he snapped. 
That was that dealt with, the eight from his pod had made it through. The rest of the captains would be in touch shortly. All he had to do now was make it back to his squad, wherever that was. “Where are you?” he quipped.
“There is a burning spire to our right,” Thoss said. Adas looked up and saw a burning building slightly taller than the rest of the city, that must be it. How had he managed to come so far without his brothers? 
“On my way,” he replied. No more time was wasted and he began heading to where his brothers were. He made his way through the dead street, the heavy footfalls of his power armour echoing ahead of him. The dead littered the gutter, if it could be called that, the evidence of his wrath clear by the scars of his chainsword on the bodies of his victims. The only sound he could hear was the pop and crackle of fire.
The noise of a building crumbling did not quite mask a heavier noise and Adas brought his sword to bear once more. The lumbering green form of an ork hurled straight towards him, bursting from the depths of the building, sending sparks and wood up into the dense atmosphere. The rolling, mad red eyes were set into a hideous face; leathery skin covered its skull and grotesque tusks jutted from its lower jaw. The thing towered over him as it charged forward. The thing was screaming a deep throated, “Waaagh,” as it ran forward, a brutal looking axe clutched in its green hands..
“No Mercy! Mortiferus!” Adas shouted back. His sword blocked the sweep of the axe with a loud clang. He brought a powered boot up and kicked the charging thing back from him. The ork staggered, though not so much as he wanted it to. Growling, he followed the stinking creature. Now it was his turn to go on the offensive. Without giving the ork chance to right it, he crashed his clenched fist down onto the top of its head, sending it sprawling into the blood stained ground. 
The next sound was the rev of the chain on his sword and the wet splatter of flesh being sundered. A single scream turned into a wet cry, ending in a hiss which was more blood spewing out of the wound than anything else. Adas once again flicked gore from his blade and looked up. The rest of the company were now at the end of the street and he nodded, “There are always more orks,” he said over the vox. He could see the white helmet of the apothecary, Taran, nod at the sentiment and he straightened up.
Leaving the corpse in a broken heap, he returned to the rest of the unit arriving in mere seconds. “Don’t stand there looking pretty, back to the pod for pick up.”
With his words, the spell that had held the squad transfixed was broken and they followed his orders. Pick up would be via Thunderhawk Transport, which would take care of both them and the pod, returning them to the battle barge Valiant. Once there, Adas could inform Chapter Master Nurion of their success, and perhaps arrange for some sort of celebration too. They had scored a victory against the Xeno threat in the name of the Emperor after all, and that was something worth celebrating.
Mounting the ramp to the pod, he looked over his shoulder at the destruction they were leaving behind. The mess would be dealt with by the ‘lesser mortals’, their work here was done. His chest swelled with pride once more, pride in their handiwork, pride in the deeds of his brothers and pride in knowing they had served the Emperor well this day.
blue · figures · miniatures. · painting · sci fi · science fiction · space marines · Warhammer 40000 · Warhammer 40k


Rough colour scheme

So, with the new project beginning to take shape, I knew I  would need to set up the characters within the Chapter with a sense of identity. They need to know who they are as much as I do after all!

After enthusing at my long suffering partner, he agreed to let me paint the army he is yet to assemble as the guys from The Black Hand, which honestly made my day. Sad as that is, I was very excited to have a ‘partner in crime’ for at least a little of this project.

Next question was, what were they going to look like. I used the game Space Marine while at my sister’s place to get a rough idea and took the screenshot you see opposite.

Legion of the Damned Space Marine

I tried so hard to stay away from blue, honestly I did. Problem is, I love the colour and it fits with the faction. I’ll write a post about their history later on explaining that. Blue is also a wonderful colour to paint. I have done a lot with blue in the past and so feel that I have enough experience to do a good job of it.

As soon as I have finished with the Legion of the Damned I am currently working on, I will be sticking and painting the first of the Chapter. It might be a little on the sad side, but I am very much looking forward to that.

Chapter Master · fan based · fan made · fiction · sci fi · science fiction · space marines · Warhammer 40000 · Warhammer 40k

Segine Hammercleaver

Segine Hammercleaver was a beautiful man; there was that to be said about him. Even with most of him encased in a large suit of red and white power armour, his face was still fairer than any Gravus Nurion had ever seen. Gravus looked across at the other Chapter Master and ran an oversized hand over his short dark hair. This meeting was informal, a discussion about a Chaos incursion that was happening on the nearby planet of Accatran. Although it was of little strategic value due to its close location to the Maelstrom, it did manufacture weaponry used by the Imperial Army, making it rather useful.
Gravus looked up at Hammercleaver, wondering why he had been called in to this meeting. His Chapter were currently engaged with the Orks, though that particular war was coming to its conclusion in a most satisfactory manner. Despite this, he would rather be with them than sitting here; it was a waste of his time. Corvinus would be taking care of the war while he was here speaking about Accatran, “What is to be done?” he asked, giving his attention back to the other Chapter Master. Why this message couldn’t have been sent through an astropath was another thought that struck him and he pressed his lips together in thought.
“You know how this goes,” Hammercleaver said.
He knew alright but that didn’t mean he was just going to accept it, “Tell me anyway,” Gravus said.
Hammercleaver rolled his eyes before speaking; unable to hide his thoughts as well as he thought he could. “The astropath message was intended for you, it was intercepted by us instead. You were close by so instead of sending another missive through the warp I delivered it myself,” he said. There was no mistaking the snort at the end of his speech but Gravus kept his contempt in check. He was about to say something when one of The Brotherhood’s serfs stumbled in.
Both Chapter Master’s turned to look at the interruption, the colour drained from the unfortunate servant’s face. By the look of his clothing, robes rather than the rags, this was Hammercleaver’s Ordinator. The Ordinator backed out of the room, shutting the large door behind him. Gravus turned away from the mistaken intrusion but did not miss the slight tug of annoyance between the other’s perfect brow or the clenching of his encased fist either. He did not doubt that there would be some repercussion later on.
The door shut and the attention was turned back to the important matter: war. “So, you’ll take The Black Hands to Accatran. Surely the simple task of beating a few heretics is no match for your warriors…” Gravus bristled. Looking over Hammercleaver’s perfect features, from the blonde hair to the green of his eyes, he realised he would like nothing more than to punch some flaws into him.
“Of course not,” he spat, “We’ll do the job easily enough.” He refrained from adding anything about the Brethren being unable to do so; it would merely be turned around by sugary words and only serve to make him angrier. He rose then, wanting to be as far away from this warrior as he could. Beautiful he might be but there was something rotten inside that core of his and Gravon did not want to hang around. His manners were not forgotten however, he gave his peer a polite nod of his head before returning to his escort, a small guard of his warriors.
“Good luck,” Segine called after him.
“We don’t need luck,” he retorted before exiting the room.
figures · introduction · miniatures. · science fiction · space marines · Warhammer 40000 · Warhammer 40k · welcome

A Warm Welcome

Hello there viewer, reader and hobbiest.

I was debating whether I should do this or not but decided that it was a good idea and plugged on with it anyway.

I intend to use this place on the internet as a home for information and short stories based around my Space Marine Chapter The Black Hands.

Some of it will be reference and background fluff, there will be some short stories here too, showing how the Chapter are. I hope to include battle reports and also images of the minitures when they have been assembled and painted too, something I am very much looking forward to doing…

Until then, I shall leave you with this scant welcome and get to doing some writing about who is who!