Fighting in the depths.

  The dark hallway slowly comes into view as Hagar claws his way back to consciousness. Suddenly he realizes where he is. His upper body inside the Fortress of the Fallen Blade. His feet visible to the rest of the world. The hydraulics are holding the blast door firmly against the greaves of his armor. Only then did he realize that his feet were bare as a cold needle was forcibly inserted into the arch of his foot.
    "Get this door off of me!" Hagar growls at the wolf priest.
   "Brynjar is on his way, " the Wolf Priest states while applying healing balms to the injured legs that he can reach through the jammed door.
   Hagar fights to release himself from the door, but the the hydraulics of the door hold tight against his powered armor plates. Only the armor keeps the door from separating him from his feet. As he twists his body to assess the situation, he sees two large jawed clamps enter through the opening and rend the door completely off the building. As the daylight washes in the hallway, he sees the tell tale signs of an Iron Priest looming over him and three smaller figures coming in around to assist Hagar with replacement leg armor.
    "Hurry!" Hagar growls. "They need to pay for my wolves."
    Brynjar subtly reminds Hagar he can't take down the whole fortress. "Ragnar needs the be sure the holding chambers have not been disturbed."
    The lone wolf grumbles incoherently about tearing the limbs off of everyone that crosses his path. As the servitor installs the last piece of the borrowed armor, Hagar runs into the building, gabbing his weapons as he goes.
   The emergency alarms flash red lights on the walls. The servitors, fighting the compulsions to answer the silent Imperial distress code that is sent out with the flashing light. Brynjar tightens the control he has on the cyborg minions that he brought with to deal with the blast doors inside the structure. They, of course, heed their master.
   The Space Wolves separate into two  teams. Brynjar takes his servitors to the control room, dispatching the two Dark Angels on the way.
     Hagar leads the others deeper in the complex. As they drop down to the next level, they are met with bolter fire. Unfortunately for the Dark Angels, they seem to be meeting the Wolves individually. The Space wolves simply over power the guardians that were left. Hagar senses something amiss, a scent of something old. He sends  a team to one of the holding cells and he follows the scent toward the other. The two Grey Hunters make it to the hallway that leads to their objective. The blast doors are sealed tightly. Attempts to blow the door fails, time and again.
    Hagar, on his way to the other, catches sight of the origin of the smell that led him further  and further in.  Then he catches sight of veterans left to dispatch the intruders. Hagar growls and charges the green armor soldiers, He quickly dispatches the first with a cleave of his frost weapon. The second puts up a fight and cuts through the armor on his right leg with his empowered claws and destroying the plates a second time today. The gravity of such an offense again infuriates the lone wolf. He picks up the marine and forcibly inserts him into the blast doors until he stops moving. Then the blast doors open.
     Brynjar makes his way to the control. One of the servitors move up and remove the door from the tracks in one clean swipe of his power fist. The cybernetic enhanced human is no match for the two veterans that wait on the other side, Brynjar watches the cyber eye pulse out as he charges into the warriors guarding the control room. His armor holds up to all the onslaught of attacks that batter at him. Then, slowly, calculatingly, he grabs both veterans with power fists from his servo harness and toss them limply into the corners of the room.
      The Iron Priest walks into the room and take control of the facility. Servitors assisting at the console. A third marine lays on the floor of the control room. His blue armor battle worn but not seriously damaged. The headset showing strange green arcs jumping from node to node and back to the librarian's skull.
    Brynjar scans the complex, opens the doors for Hagar. Then he notices two remaining Dark Angels heading toward one of the underground escape hatches. He realizes the fight here is over. He leads them to the exit and redirects his own Grey Hunters away. No one else needs to die today.
    Hagar scans the room. The holding cell is empty. The scent leads from the room. The scent is from a Space Wolf. The Lone Wolf immediately takes up the hunt for the occupant of the cell. The trail leads down some corridors and out an open hatch. Hagar is back outside.

"It was a dark and stormy night..."

        Hey guys. Yes, yes. I know I have been gone too long for some of my avid readers. For that, I, oh so humbly, apologize. I could tell you a story of too much stuff to do or how crazy my personal life has been or that seventh edition has got me in a confused on what to play or so on, blah... blah .... blah. I know that know one wants to read about that, so let's move on.

       I have been getting some painting done. First off, my pretty purple warp spiders. Deadly, fast and durable, They will make a great addition into my Eldar army. I did an awful lot of color testing on these guys. They were black, red, light green, I think they were even a burnt orange color. I just couldn't come up with colors that fit the theme and still have them correspond to the Samm-Haim theme of my Eldar army. This is what I finally came up with and I couldn't be happier. I plan to do my harlequins in similar colors, just a bit brighter.

   Then came the Dire Avengers. They just cried to get finished. I think these minis have been blue in my Eldar drawer for more years than I can remember. I'm still not thrilled with the shuriken catapults, which is the big reason I haven't painted them or the forty-some guardians I own. I decided to go with a dark blue and then just edge  the guns to make the lines look more sharp. Instead they came out a little weathered looking, which isn't bad either. The red in the plumes and hoses bring them back to the craft world. My Eldar drawer still has ten of these to cheer up from their blue state.

   The next part to the story will be coming soon. I have been putting some work into this part because it is a major turning point in how the story progresses from here. So, please stay tuned for the next segment.

    The last thing I wanted to mention is my good friend, Steve, has his store back to full working order, if that's possible for a hobby store. And I got to say he is actually my local neighborhood game store. The store is only a few blocks from where I am currently writing. Anybody in the Allentown, Pa area that needs a place to rolls some dice or get your hobby supplies come over and check it out and tell him I sent you.
 Dragonhead Hobby and Games
2905 W Emaus Ave Allentown, PA 18103

Plan B!

    The sounds of battle echo from just beyond the fortress. Bolter fire and plasma crashing into steel and sounds of the wounded fills the air. This is not just a scuffle over territory from two rival clans. Something in this tussle was deeper. A grievance that runs deeper than any other in the Imperium. No two enemies have studied their foes as have these two. No greater separation of edicts come from the worlds of man than these two. The Space Wolves, with their impetuous spirit, and the stubborn and dedicated Dark Angels are equally honored in the eyes of the Emperor. Yet, this fray is not about the Emperor's graces or how many trophies sit in their great halls. This is a story that must not be seen by the Emperor's agents. Either side, or both, could be branded heretics. The blood on this battlefield is that of brothers. Ragnar knows that this chess match cannot continue. It must be finished as quickly and thoroughly as possible. The secrets contained in this vault should not be released and, definitely not in the hands of a Dark Angel.

    While the Wolf Lord leads the charge to the front gates. His loyal Wolves taking the full onslaught of what the Dark Angels can muster. The Wolf Lord noticed one thing that may sway this all in his favor, one minor flaw in the defenders. There is no sign of a company master or even a chaplain. the only commander on the field is a librarian. That little fact gives Ragnar the confidence he needs to turn the tide to his favor. For a librarian is versed in all rites of war, but they are not the diligent commanders that win wars. So as the the battle rages on, a lone wolf with a squad of Grey Hunters and his personal wolves sneak around the back door of the fortress. Their only goal is to get in that building. Unfortunately, just as they make their way of of the cover of woods, a shot is fired from the wall of the citadel, hitting a Grey Hunter square in the chest. The plasma blast melts armor and flesh. The Lone Wolf, Hagar, counts out the enemies and quickly assess target priority. Three soldiers of the ten stand out as high priority. The first is that blasted plasma gunner, next, the heavy bolter hiding behind cover, and the last is the Sergeant, only notable by his sword writhed with electricity. Hagar issues commands to each of the men and heads directly for his target, the door.

      The Space Wolves moved forward with their normal version of tactical aggression, trading shots with the defenders of the citadel. They need to eliminate those few defenders. Hagar takes advantage of the sergeant's boldness and sends his wolves to take care of the him. With one word, "Play!" the wolves charge away from their master and barrel into the sergeant, adeptly knocking his sword wide. Hagar, himself, charges at the Dark Angel raining round after round from his heavy bolter. At that same moment, another Grey Hunter falls to the deadly accuracy of a plasma gun in the hands of a Dark Angel. 

    The remaining Wolves howl as they charge the defender's line. Even as the stalwart marines fire their final rounds before receiving the charge, the plasma gun flashes back, incapacitating the firer. The field evens out again. With only half the marines that met here moments ago, things seem grim for both sides. The wolves are still pinning down the sergeant. If only he could get his weapon to bear on one of these creatures, things would be different. Just then, the opening he was looking for appeared. He brought his fist down on the first wolf and fired one bolt pistol shell into the front leg of the wolf, putting it of the fight. The other went down soon after. But it was too late. With only two other of his fellow marines on the field, he sees the only thing that means failure in his eyes. 

    

       The heavy weapon armed Dark Angel could not hold back the fury of a Lone Wolf in close combat. He is easily knocked aside and stunned long enough for Hagar to make a break for the door. As soon as he starts his sprint to enter the building, the door starts closing. Hagar throws his body into the doorway. The last thing he hears before losing consciousness is the sound of the hydraulics of the door straining to shut and the crunch of armor and bone under the intense pressure. He  is in!

A different veiw on things

        Well, there has been a lot of interesting things that have come out of Games Workshop since I put up a regular post. With Orks and psychers running amok over everyone's table top. The interesting part for me is simply the changes for 7th edition. As an old school 40k player, I love the changes that were made. I can now play with all the wonderful models that I bought and loving assembled and painted. I know for myself and many others out there, I can not count the hours I have spent on this hobby (not to mention the dollars). Thank you to the designers for the 7th edition rules set, not to mention the new books.

    Anyway.... Now that I have rambled on like a fan boy in the proverbial candy shop. I can get to the story I really wanted to write about tonight.

    I was at work the other day. For those who don't know, I am an auto technician by day. The job I was working at the time was a trailer hitch installation. Easy enough, one would think. There was one part of the job that spark my creative juices. The rear fascia needs to be cut out for the hitch to fit properly. So, like anyone in my field, I pulled out my pneumatic saw and cut out the fascia. Then, I look at it. I guess for the first time. I see this jagged line that the air saw caused. This cracked, marred piece of plastic is a representation of the best laid plans that the manufacturer thought was "good enough" for the owner of this brand new $30,000 car. Then, I looked at it through the eyes of a modeler and painter. This was unacceptable. So, I went to work as if it were one of the models I care about so much, not just following the directions given to me. I break out a Xacto knife and files and clean this rugged line to the point that no will notice that it was ever cut. Next, touch up paint turned that black plastic to the crystal white that the rest of the car was. As I was standing there looking at my work of art, at least in my eyes, I realized that when this car is on the ground and the customer is hooking up their trailer that they will probably never know what extra attention that their car received from my "artistic" hands.

     The morale of this story for me is, if I had not been a modeler and painter of little army men, I may have never looked at this cut/ mold line as something that warranted extra attention. I hope that all you modelers out there noticed the things you do different just because you are a modeler.

Thanks for reading this. I thought it warranted some space on the internet. I hope you enjoyed reading it.

Old grudges never die.

      Ragnar Blackmane stands on the fourth planet of Avignor. Two of the planets three moons are in the sky over the wolf lord. After the two week journey to the star system, he still has not heard from whoever opened one of "his" vaults. No one was ever supposed to find this one. Yet here he was. The drone on the generator is heard just under the natural sounds of the night. Only the keen senses of the Space Wolves would notice the hum of a plasma generator on the far side of the compound. He could see the occasional light of sentries walking the battlements.
     "We might need our blades after all." Ragnar says to the Blood Claws that are crouched around him. One of less restrained jumped at the words as if to charge the structure all by himself. The warriors of Fenris could hardly contain their excitement. Not only do the they get to blood their chainswords, but they get to do it with the lord.
     "Voggr, get your squad in your Land Raider," the wolf lord orders to the Wolf Guard just on the other side of the hill, "Keep out of sight. Wait for my command."
        "Yes, Lord Blackmane." come the response.
       Then, just as Ragnar goes to issue the rest of his orders another voice cuts in. "Leave, Lord Blackmane!" the derision over the comm is palpable. "You need not interfere here. This is our fortress. Leave now or we will be forced to drive you away."
      Even as Ragnar starts to respond the signal goes down. A roar of frustration leaps from the lungs of the wolf lord and is echoed by all his wolves. The howls pierce the darkness and the rest of the wilds go deathly silent. The howls did not get the reaction that the Wolf Lord had hoped for. Even as he and his warriors come out of their position, shots from the fortress rang out. Despite the woodland cover and the darkness of predawn light, a few of the shots still fall some of his men. " These are not some rabble, boys, prepare for a fight!" yells Ragnar.  Just as he orders his Wolf Guard forward, a shot flashes the sight on the front of the land raider, causing the crew to hesitate enough to stall their advance. Bolter fire and missiles are launched from every position of the battlements. These intruders are organized. They certainly are military. Only the Long Fangs got a hit on the defenders of the building.
    The worst of all fears are noticed as the wolves close nearer to the structure. These are Astartes! The Wolf lord once again howls, but this is to signal a charge towards the structure. This base cannot fall to dark forces. It is far to powerful to be turned to Chaos. "We must take that building and this time we will raze it to the ground! For the All Father! Charge them!" Blackmane bellows for all the wolves to hear. "They must not have it." he states plainly, mostly to himself.
     The Land Raider starts to roll again just as a blinding light flashes just off to one side of it and six hulking figures the color of dried bone materialize in the light. As these figures unleash their fury on the Grey Hunters, the return fire puts them all on the ground. The Long fangs continue trading blows with the defenders of the tower and the Blood Claws charge directly towards the battlements. The defenders of the fortress rain shells and laser fire from their perches. The krakstorm missiles taking marines out of the fight with every volley fired.
    As the Space Wolves advance across the field, a Grey Hunter named Rud notices the markings on the bone armor hulks. Everyone, especially the Wolves, know this symbol. It is the marking of the Deathwing, veterans of the Dark Angels chapter. This is not good. Astartes should not be killing each other. As Rud is disturbed at the thought, so he noticed the Dark Angels are as well. All save one. The Librarian on the battlements is fighting with the righteous zeal that any of the Emperor's finest should. Still the Sons of Russ push on. The Wolf Lord deems it. He must know.
     Rud watches as Wolves fall to the bolters of the Dark Angels, but still they press further. Blood Claws are lost with every volley of fire. But still they advance. When the Blood Claws reach the building there is only one and Ragnar and a wolf Guard. Even the prowess of the Dark Angels' boltguns could not keep the Sons of Russ from their objective. But as tactical marines are cut down by frost blades, the only blue clad marine in sight enters the building. The door into the structure becoming super heated then cooled fusing door and wall together. They will need some powerful plasma cutters to open the door now. The outside of the fortress falls to the Wolf Lord. The secrets are still locked inside with the Dark Angels Librarian. This is the very thing that Ragnar did not want to occur. This is not a proud day for anyone on this field today. Good thing there is always a back up plan.
       

Liebster Awards!

I just found out a few days ago I was given a Liebster Award. I really want to thank Green Stuff Industries for listing me as a recipient and recommending my blog to others in the community. 

We have had a meager 6k hits in the year and a half that I have been writing. Though I can't believe it is that many.

So here's the deal with the Liebster Awards.

1. Copy and paste the award on your blog linking it to the blogger who has given it you.
2. Pass the award to your top 5 blogs with less than 200 followers by leaving a comment on one of their posts to notify them that they have won the award and listing them on your own blog.
3. Sit back and bask in the warm fuzzy feeling that comes with knowing you have made someone's day!
4. There is no obligation to pass this onto someone else but it is nice if you take the time to do so.

Ok, the 5 blogs under 200 followers is:

1. Berks gaming Club

2. Turn-8 podcast (they may have more than 200, but not according to the forums)

3. Green Stuff Industries

4. There is only war

5. Rusty Robot

Now for the questions:

 

1. Why did you start blogging? I started to write mostly because I thought no was listening, and I had stuff to           say. 

2. If you could change one thing about the wargaming hobby, what would it be? I would love to make it more approachable and understandable to people outside of the community

3. What is best in life? Children, from their complete innocence to their lack of oral filters

4. Do you want to live forever? No, I would like to live long enough to see my boys find the happiness in their lives, then die quietly in my sleep

5. Fame or fortune? Fortune, I don't need people watching in my windows to see what I am wearing today

6.What miniature are you most proud you have painted? That's easy.... All of them.

7. How do you deal with burn out? Play games and write army lists. Aside from that, I take short breaks when needed

8. Why is a raven like a writing desk? I dunno

9. Star Wars or Star Trek? Star Wars, all the way. I just don't get Star Trek.

10.If you could only buy from one miniature company from now on, who would it be? I would have to say GW but there are so many beautiful models out there. I would hate to ever make that decision.

11. Favorite Take out? It would have to be pizza. 

Thanks again to Green Stuff Industries. It means a lot to me that I made your list. Good luck to you.

Catching the scent

        Among the sensors, dials and readouts on the instrument panel, nothing ever changes. Jovald sits and waits for something, anything to happen. What wonderful pride he had when he was selected to be part of the crew of the Valdr Kappi. His life before being recruited was hard. He was a mortal born on a super human world. His family were miners. His father and his father before him and his father before him were all miners. He could not live and work below the mountains of Fenris. He needed to be with the stars. He wanted to be a Space Wolf. Unfortunately, he was not much of a fighter, let alone, not athletic in the least. So when the opportunity to be part of the Space Wolf's imperial navy, he jumped at the chance. So now here Jovald sits. Ten hour shifts of waiting for something to happen wears thin on the exultation he had when he first signed up. "Something is happening, " he says to himself as three Astares open the door to the bridge and confront the captain. Though the Valdr Kappi is part of Ragnar Blackmane's entourage, there is never space marines on this ship. This is a sensor ship. There isn't even enough guns on this ship to defend against a single ork boy.
      Jovald can't remember the last time he had even seen one the defenders of Fenris. Now, there were three, only five feet from where he sat. There is no need to eavesdrop. The gray armored warriors are clearly upset over the recent events. Suddenly, one of the Space Wolves, Ormgar claps the leader of the group and points in the direction of Jovald. Jovald quickly turns back to his screen and notices an unusual blip on his screen.
    "What is that?" Ormgar asks the mortal.
    "It's a signal from Avignor. It looks like a f-f-fortress has been opened." Jovald stammers.
    "Captain, we need to go there." says the hairiest and eldest of the three.
    " Only the Lord can tell me where to go," barks the captain at the 8 foot tall super soldier.
     Romund looks down at the captain of the ship like a father looks down at a three year who just talked back to them, "I am trying to save your position, Captain! Blackmane will want to go there. He closed that door himself!"
       The captain, with a stark look on his face, orders plainly. " Contact Wolf Lord Blackmane. Plot our  course to Avignor. And get the Admiral on the vox."