Broken homes. Bones scattered, of his own kin and the alien alike. He walked in the dead garden, in the dead silence and he shook his head. Perhaps if they had turned their gifts, their sight to something other than their own vanity they would have seen this coming. And now, for that price they were forced to conscript their dead for every petty thing. Every pointless skirmish, every meaningless dispute. Time and again they dishonoured their dead by forcing them to march in lifeless shells that held nothing to the beauty they may have had in life.

He looks to the sky and screams, bitter, angry, full of hate despite the path he had chosen. And he kneels down, running tired old hands across those sun bleached bones. He would remember. He would remember them all. He would remember all the horrors, all the pain and all the shame. He picks one skull up and grasps it carefully, running worn fingertips over the ridges of the eye sockets. This was a living being once. He remember their smile. He remembered their face.

He remembered her love.

He was possessed. Distraught, torn by the memory as he took the skull and carefully tied it with a thread of silk. He would carry his memories with him. All of them. He scrabbled in the dust, gathering the bones, tying them for several hours until a few hours later he heard footsteps.

'Dear Gods Ylaneth....what have you done?!'

tipios wrote:@santobell - nice curves

@flyimg poo - looking good

Hyenajoe wrote:Great job Santobell!

Any chance to have a pic from a different angle?

Obsidian Raven wrote:hi, im wondering if it is too late to enter this comp? the models are only getting to me on the 31st of July, and i planned to order one to make into 40k anyway, so is it still possible to enter?