This army has been a labor of love for the last two years, and I am very pleased to share it with you guys now that it is finally coming together.

My dial-up connection takes forever to upload pictures, so I'll share the first squad and some fluff tonight, and then upload pics of the next squad tomorrow.


Click on a pic to see a larger version.

Terminator Squad Takara



Sister Etsu



Sister Riniko



Sister Yei



Sister Miyoko





Veteran Sister Tadako






And now some Background Fluff for you guys:

“The Genestealer Organism is the most perfect weapon ever created by man or god. Rather than expending the enormous resources necessary to create an invading army, it quietly turns the resources of the target planet against itself, converting the populace, breeding an army in the dark shadows and corners, until at last the planets defenses are stripped, and the knees of its inhabitants hit the dirt and their heads are bowed in supplicance before a single invader touches the surface. While we expend decades of time and whole planets worth of resources in the hopes that a mere handful of aspirants survive the implantation process to become marines, the hive fleet has simultaneously conquered a target and created fresh invasion forces, and all it expended was but a single man-sized organism. Its only flaw is that it knows not the glory of chaos. It still foolishly takes by force that which should be pleaded for by its victims.
This day I transcend both the primitive work of the False Emperor and the primeval hunger of the hive mind! This day, I unleash my perfection.
---Fabius Bile vox recording. Source and time code unknown.





Acolyte Harrisun could not understand why his master insisted on keeping his office so unbearably dark. The double sets of hardwood doors prevented any exterior light from entering, and only the flicker from a single scented candle reached out, occasionally licking the edges of the vaulted ceiling high above. Harrisun had occasionally speculated that his master may have come from a world of perpetual darkness, like Sysenthia or Morienalla, but his Master’s tastes in both food and women had long lead him away from such conclusions. In the recent years, Harrisun had suspected that his master simply did so to keep those who entered his santuarium at unease, and had not seen any reason since to suspect otherwise.
Harrisun waited politely in the darkness, forcing his breathing to regulate itself. Despite the importance of the news he brought, he understood that it was only one of a hundred such reports his master would receive that day.
“You may begin,” his master groaned painfully from behind stacks of dusty data-slates, a disturbance of dust caught by the candlelight gave the only indication that his master still drew mortal breath.
“I believe I have located the source of the enemy reinforcements on Genivineth.”
Harrisun waited for a snort of content or a sigh of irritance, but none were made.
“Are you awaiting a negative response from me?” came the throaty reply from his master.
“Yes master,” Harrisun answered honestly, having long ago learned not to try and hide his feelings. “Both Hanora and Sir Deldai have continually received my theories with contempt.”
“And that is why neither will succeed me when I am gone,” his master asserted.
Harrisun preened for a moment. Never in all his years of service had he received something so close to a compliment as this. Feeling emboldened, he continued.
“Originally we had suspected that the Alpha Legion had been able to somehow breach the blockade, but upon further investigation we discovered that their reinforcements were coming from the planets population itself. Suits of power armor were being salvaged from the battlefield and fitted to new warriors ready to accept them. Originally we thought their total marine strength to be in the thousands, but in all likelihood, there may have been as few as two hundred suits of power armor that were recycled through as many as twenty different warriors throughout the campaign.”
Harrisun tapped a rune on his slate and transferred the data across the room. Between stacks of scrolls, the candlelight revealed a single green aged eye shaking back and forth as his master reviewed the thousands of documents and vid-clips that had played a role in this investigation.
His master moaned, as if in pain, and the small metallic appendages around his mouth clicked like insects. His augmented mind was capable of virtually projecting thousands of scenarios in mere seconds, predicting their possible consequences centuries ahead, but it did not spare him from the gravity of his decisions. Harrisun would later learn that his master had just made one of the most difficult decisions of his ancient life.
“So, you expanded your search to the surrounding sub-sector,” his master said dispassionately.
“Yes, and we found six more worlds which had been seeded. We are not sure at this time exactly how they are being delivered to the individual planets. Even with the Imperial Navy so heavily redeployed around the Cadian Gate, it would still be quite difficult, even with something significantly smaller then a corvette, to slip around without being noticed.
A long dry sigh left his master’s cracking lips. “You are thinking too narrowly, young acolyte. There are millions of refugees leaving the Cadian sector each year. It would only be necessary to insert individuals onto a single ship, and from there they would be divided and disseminated among hundreds of planets.”
Harrisun disliked being called young. He was, after all, 187, but nodded respectfully at the correction and continued. “Once the women are on a planet, they quickly pair up and bear children with the local men. They seem to display an uncanny ability to seduce males, even those already involved in highly committed pairings. Whether this is a pheromoneal or psychic ability, we are unable to say at this time, but after that first generation, the daughters born will unerringly display the attributes found most attractive by that particular planet’s culture. Again, we have no explanation for this ability at this time. They are unusually uninhibited compared to normal human females, and appear to bear and raise, if unbarred by local law, as was the case on Darwio, as many as 14 daughters every twenty years. We have no reports of them bearing sons, so we can only assume they are unable to. On Ryzin II they appeared to have bred for only four generations but there were already more then a thousand mixed into a planet’s population, more commonly among the lower classes.”
“And what knowledge do they have of their ultimate mission?” came the raspy question from the darkness of the room.
“None that we know of. They are unlike other servants of the enemy I have encountered. They are highly-intelligent, and unusually charismatic. One detachment of local guards had to be executed after they were caught aiding in the escape of one of the subjects. Until their masters arrive, they seem to have a strong subconscious predilection for forming and joining counter-culture movements, like the militant mutant-rights groups on Sullia, or the Yparah peace movements on Ardura, but otherwise think of themselves as loyal citizens of the Imperium and faithful believers in the church of the God-Emperor.
“Or perhaps your interrogation methods were simply ineffective,” his master proposed. “It is possible to modify the body to make it impervious to torture. I myself was similarly modified in my youth in the case of my capture.”
“Regardless,” Harrisun continued, “there is obviously some sort of trigger mechanism that is activated in them once the planet they live on comes under attack. We have reports of hundreds of them leaving their old lives on Salitenca IV, and without orders or leaders, engaging in highly effective gorilla tactics against local garrison forces before finally joining up with the invasion forces themselves.
“And what are their abilities once fighting is engaged?” his master asked.
“Astonishing, given their level of experience and equipment at the time,” Harrisun commented. “While they definitely lack the strength of an astartes, we have confirmed reports of them exhibiting equivalent reflexes, endurance, tolerance to toxins, and healing speed. We have one report indicating that their pain threshold may indeed be far higher then a male astartes, but we would need much more data to confirm that. Until they are fitted with the neuro sensors and transfusion points needed for power armor, they are externally indistinguishable from regular local human females. Only sophisticated medi-augers or an internal autopsy can expose them.”
“And that is his trap,” his master said between strained coughs.
Harrisun paused and tried to understand his master through the darkness.
“I don’t understand, my master,” Harrisun said smartly. “We have a simple way to root them out. Is that not a flaw in his plan? How could that be a trap?”
A sound came out of his master that Harrisun had never heard before. It was long, and repeating, like the sound of a hand lightly beating against someone’s throat. After a moment, he realized that it was laughter.
“My dear acolyte,” his master finally said after a moment of heavy breathing, “You have never met Abbadon in person, so I will forgive you for misjudging his level of thinking. He is not so shallow as you.”
“And you have?” Harrisun asked aloud, his question only met by damning silence.
“Has your team estimated the cost of such a venture?” his master asked venomously. “An hundred thousand worlds within reach of the eye and the refugees that have fled from it, and another fifty thousand within short travel from them. To mount such a search and purge would rival the mobilization during the age of strife. Abbadon tempts us to bleed ourselves dry, divert enough resources away from the eye to allow him to break the Cadian Gate completely.”
“Certainly the cost of inaction is greater then the cost of action,” Harrisun interjected hesitantly, “Left unchecked, their numbers would grow exponentially. In another five generations on Ardura, they’ll outnumber the natural population. And that’s only if they remained in a few places. They could travel as pilgrims, spreading to countless other worlds. We must have a response, master.”
“Take your report and burn it,” his master commanded. “And send in the next acolyte as you leave.”
Harrisun turned quietly and walked out of the darkness, the aged wooden door creaking closed behind him.




More Pics and fluff to come.

after seeing the rest of your work, this is showing your lack of social life very cleary.

by the way, you might want to credit the painter.

I could see it on power armor, but bewbs on Tactical Dreadnought Armor?

Very impresive models

Ahtman wrote:I could see it on power armor, but bewbs on Tactical Dreadnought Armor?

That actually ran through my mind... well the girl must be stacked like a porn star

Boobs on power armour, let alone terminator armour, are ridiculously silly. I'm justifying these in my mind by them not actually being form-fitting (no woman can be that big and still have a functional spine) but as a superficial exterior decoration intended to make clear to all of Fabius Bile's rivals that he's created an affront to the Emperor's gene seed technology, doing what has been routinely claimed was impossible- a female space marine. And as long as that's in my mind, I think they work quite well.

The execution is quite good on these, but if they are reusing armour taken from casualties shouldn't they show some signs of hasty repair?

Love the fluff, really well written (although I admit I had to laugh at 'Gorilla' tactics, rather than 'Guerilla'. I had visions of your neophytes swinging throught the trees Tarzan style!)

i will say i like painitng style and modelling is impressive...

sorry to say i can never accept female marines Ever....

That fluff is awesome, eagerly awaiting more!

Ahtman wrote:I could see it on power armor, but bewbs on Tactical Dreadnought Armor?

I remember the WIP for the power and terminator armors, and I gotta say I really like the termi babes more.

These really came out for you Doc, excellent work. Great paint and (like I said) I like the termi->chick design. Just curious about the armament, didn't think loyalists could get all those weird weapon combos and combi-weapons.

- Salvage

Looking great so far

I really like how they came out too. Who knows, they probably are stacked like porn stars given their ability to seduce men and their presumably extra tough spinal columns

I might point out that women are inferior to men for purposes of rapid breeding if looking to spread genetics, but if that is what is required to have these power armor girls, I will take it!

Thanks for the kind words guys.

JOHIRA wrote:I'm justifying these in my mind by them not actually being form-fitting (no woman can be that big and still have a functional spine) but as a superficial exterior decoration

They eat a lot of meat.

No, I'm just kidding. Like you say, the breast armor is decorative, like the way the romans made their chest plates to look like pectoral muscles.

The execution is quite good on these, but if they are reusing armour taken from casualties shouldn't they show some signs of hasty repair?

Good point. I tried that, but was never able to really pull that off in a way I was wholly satisfied with.

Just curious about the armament, didn't think loyalists could get all those weird weapon combos and combi-weapons.

I use Space Wolf rules.

Okay, you guys asked for it and here it is:
I've made a tutorial on how to do a quick and easy Female Space Marine. This is designed so that anyone can do it, regardless of your level of experience with green stuff, and takes about 5 minutes to do. All of what you are about to see I did in less then 5 minutes, and that includes picture taking time.

Click on a thumbnail for larger pics.

I am using the robed bodies from the Dark Angel Veteran Upgrade Sprue for two reasons:
1) Robes are a million times easier to sculpt then armor.
2) A pair of the Dark Angel Veteran sprues can be bought off the USGW online store for $20.00, giving you enough parts to make ten robed bodies (plus a whole bunch of other stuff) That is $2.00 per robed marine, which is an incredible deal.


First make yourself a ball of green stuff. (Keep your fingers and tools wet at ALL times or the green stuff will stick to it) Tomake robes you'll want to work with it fresh after mixing, when it is the most soft.


Create a fat sausage of it and lay it down across the chest. You'll want to make sure it is centered and the same thickness on each side so that the breasts don't come out lopsided.


Use your sculpting tool to pull the edges towards the belt, neck, and shoulder. You want it thin at the edges so that there won't be am obvious line where the green stuff ends.


Use the handle to seperate the breasts, and pull the extra material towards the edges like before.


Use your wet fingers and a light touch to smooth everything out and make sure that nothing is lopsided or drooping.


Now take your sculpting tool and create the little wrinkles in the cloth. The wrinkles will occur mostly on the sides and underneath. Start on the inside and pull outwards so that the green stuff blends into the torso at the edges.



Now you can glue the rest of the model together, but make sure not to touch the green stuff as you do it. It takes about three hours to fully cure. Never glue on the backpack until after you have finished painting.

Here she is, ready to smite whatever you need smitten.

Okay, got the next two Terminator Squads to show off.
As before, click on the pics to see a larger version.

First up, Terminator Squad Hisa



Veteran Sister Ayame



Sister Kaede



Sister Machiko



Sister Miine



Sister Nami






Then we have Treminator Squad Rinako



Sister Tori



Sister Yayoi



Veteran Sister Takako



Sister Suma



Sister Shoko




Stay tuned for more updates. I should have pics of the Power Armored Marinettes early next week.

Spiderman + Boobs on trannys.

Where is Iorek??

At a transvestite Comic book conventions I suppose.

I've enjoyed the figs and the only constructive criticism I have is that you need to find a way to make the webbing thinner on the shoulders/powerfists/ect. The lines are to thick at the moment I think, they should be more stringy. Easier said then done I know, but still.

Continuing to be impressive, just x3 now.

The power armor boob-sculpt I'm less sold on, but then again I've always liked your termies more. You still have more of those termi chest pieces around?

- Salvage

I remeber this from the WIP thread. Looking great. The aesthetics are awesome. I agree with Ahtman about trying to make the webbing thinner... though that may not be practical.

Keep up the good work.

ender502

So... is this one your squad missile launcher then?




Seriously, though, your modeling is great, but I am just not buying female marines, self-fluff or not. I also second the earlier comment about 'breast armor' on power armor and Termie armor. Great execution, not so great idea.



Ghidorah

Okay, I got some more blackground fluff for you guys, as well as a fantasic illustration done by Goatboy.

Enjoy.



INDEX ASTARTES: THE BLACK WIDOWS
+Further to your order (AF/992.D5532674/058666.M41/9283) I have transferred this final copy of my analysis prior to Epsilon-level data purge, including hard copies and original source materials.
Index Astartes Entry 89F41699.D2941

THE BLACK WIDOWS

Seeding Stage:
This broad category covers the time period when Black Widows are first introduced onto a target world. The exact methods and dates are cause for significant wasteful speculation amongst my staff, but most reverse-predictions based on infestation levels point to a general time period beginning as early as 75 years prior to the 13th black crusade. Covert planet-drops would leave behind landing craft remains and residual landing-site ion evidence, and victims of human-trafficking normally undergo medical inquiries sufficient enough to reveal a widow for what she is. Indeed, it is the lack of evidence in this area that we find most disturbing, and pray for The Emperor’s light to bring this sin to comprehension.
Widows quickly breed with men from the local population. Normally they remain in the lower castes of society, where larger families are commonplace and the chances for detection are minimal, but occasionally one will seek out and seduce a man of particular importance on that world, a magistrate or an admiral. When this happens it is particularly troublesome because it compromises the world’s security at very high levels, and if left undiscovered on worlds with hereditary titles, can even lead to the planetary leaders themselves being descendants of a Widow.
Before they awaken, Widows display no knowledge of their inhuman nature and dark purpose. They are normally faithful members of The Church of the Emperor, and accounted as being hard-working and diligent parents.
Awakening Stage:
Although the mechanism behind it is not understood, when an infected world comes under attack by chaos forces, Black Widows will leave their families and workplace and begin an aggressive and devastating guerilla campaign against the world’s defenders. Depending on the level of infestation, this can vary between light to heavy raiding all the way to complete revolt and planet-wide chaos, as was the case on Falcurno. Their intimate knowledge of local cities, terrain, and populace, allows them to strike strategic targets with devastating effect. Prime among their initial targets will be weapons and ammunition caches to arm themselves more heavily, which is occasionally made simple if some of their number were formally part of the planetary defense force, using their authority to infiltrate such installations with greater ease.
Upon meeting up with the chaos invasion forces, they begin acting as advisors, leading small raiding parties and providing priceless information about terrain and defensive layouts. If their numbers are high enough, they will be organized into their own armed forces, utilizing whatever weapons and armor they can acquire. When suits of Power Armor become available due to casualties, both friendly and enemy, the plug-in points for The Widow’s Black Carapace are completed, providing a large and eager pool of recipients to don the armor as soon as it becomes available. Thus Black Widow fighting formations slowly evolve over time from what would be comparable to a planetary defense regiment into a fully-equipped marine force. Normally this takes place rather slowly, even over the course of several campaigns, but occasionally power armored suits are specifically provided to the Widows by the Dark Mechanicus.
Final Stage:
Once a group of Widows reaches the final stage of its maturity, they will be a full-fledged chaos marine force. Battle-hardened and fully-equipped, they will form their own command structure and become somewhat autonomous from the legion they originally joined. Black Widows are known to capture the finest of the enemy soldiers they fight against, using them as breeders to create the next generation of super-human warriors. Black Widow armies tend to be rather small compared to other legions, but occasionally several smaller groups will find each other and merge into a much larger force.

Combat Doctrine:
“When we move left they hit out right, when we move right they hit our left. They flow around us like water leaving us to shoot at shadows, all the while sapping our strength and will to fight.”
–Unattributed vox recording from Taroi.
Black Widows grow more sophisticated as their equipment and armor improves during their development stages, but they never abandon the guerilla style warefare they begin once they have awoken. Black Widows are slow and methodical, using elaborate feints and dozens of coordinated raids in collusion. Small groups will engage the enemy, using stealth to infiltrate a position and launching a devastating attack at close range, then withdrawing before enemy forces can coordinate a proper defense. Enemy forces sent to pursue them as they withdraw are drawn into carefully laid ambush points, usually accompanied by remote-detonated radiation minefields or plague-ridden punji pits. Dozens of such raids will be used to draw enemy reserves away from the Widow’s actual target. Only once a target is sufficiently exposed will the Widows attack it.
Lightning raids and orbital insertions against enemy communications grids, munitions and arms manufactorium, power network nodes, water purification installations, and ration caches are all preferred targets. In the final stages before an all-out attack, The Black Widows will begin an elaborate pattern of shelling and raiding, designed to force their enemy to constantly fight or redeploy, denying them rest or relief and depleting their remaining ammunition reserves. The effect of these days without food or sleep is a complete collapse of enemy morale.
Only once an enemy is depleted of food water and ammunition, cutoff from communications, and exhausted from ceaseless raids, will The Widows finally attack. When they do finally strike, Widows use overwhelming force, attempting to shock their besieged opponents into a quick surrender. Where possible, this is accomplished by allied chaos forces, as The Widows have no qualms in sacrificing their allies to achieve victory.
Black Widows never voluntarily attack an enemy able to withstand them. When fighting alongside other chaos forces whose sense of martial pride demands an all-out attack, The Black Widows will use the opportunity to attack enemy installations left lightly defended as the chaos advance is countered.
Unlike many forces of Chaos, Widows prefer to take their enemies alive, and while there is no current explanation for this phenomenon, we have unconfirmed reports from Taroi and Ganatas of enormous burial mounds filled with husks drained of all bodily fluid.
Black Widows normally eschew the Dreadclaw Lander used by other chaos forces, preferring the Epsilon Mark VIII Pattern Drop Pod, which is normally associated with loyal astartes forces. The source of these pods is unknown, but we have several confirmed vid-logs of Widow’s Drop Pods each trailing a single silver strand of monofilament wire behind them as they descend to a planet from orbiting spacecraft. What purpose or function this strand serves we cannot say at this time.
Most unusually, Widows have been shown on several occasions a willingness to enter battle without their armor in order to infiltrate a target. On Ganatas a group of twenty Widows masqueraded as traveling gypsies, and used contacts within the gypsy black market to enter the lower hive city through secret underwater entrances. On Alucant, several Widows in civilian clothing managed to mix themselves in among hundreds of refugees being shuttled from the surface up to the remaining orbital defense bastion.

Beliefs:
Reports of sexual debauchery among The Black Widows are commonplace, but no definitive link has been established to Slaanesh worship. In fact, there are no accounts at this time of The Black Widows making any kind of gesture to the Dark Gods whatsoever. They do not fight for honor or glory or to gain the praise of a precocious deity. They fight because it is their nature to do so, and because it pleases them. They do what they were created to do. Still, they retain their memories from the life they had prior to their awakening, and it causes them great pain in moments of solitude, like a splinter in their minds. This guilt leads them to be extremely active between campaigns. Widows personalize and adorn their armor, and engage in riotous entertainment, anything to numb them to the shame of the people they betrayed and the life they once had.
Every Widow must eventually come to terms with their status in the universe. They are monsters. Damned souls, created by evil hands and flooded by the darkness of the void before they were even born. Inhuman, immoral, irredeemable. For some, they eventually come to embrace their inhuman nature and wallow in the debauchery the universe offers. For others, they seek death in battle to end their misery. For still others, there are whispers of Widows falling upon their own swords rather than countenance the depths of their damnation.

Geneseed:
It is quite likely that The Black Widows geneseed was originally developed from Alpha Legion stock, although this conclusion is based almost entirely on circumstantial evidence. Black Widow infestations on Imperial worlds have been followed by attacks including Alpha Legion forces at least 76.2% of instances, which could indicate a close working relationship between the two.
During our examination of a partial-corpse that was obtained from a failed raid on Listening Post Pan-9T420.259 (see attached file and photos ref. #3A54808GG464) High-Priest Duvanilite of the Mechanicus commented during the autopsy that the additional internal organs displayed a genetic neutrality that was similar to the Primogenitor geneseed, or what he called “original geneseed.” The following day High-Priest Duvanilite was aggressively reassigned to another sector, and all attempts to locate his current assignment have gone unanswered, so I am unable to provide further details at this time.
Black Widows lack Phase 3 and 18 Implants. Phase 3, Biscopea, stimulates muscle tissue growth, which is why Black Widows are no physically stronger then normal human females. They are therefore, perhaps intentionally, externally indistinguishable from normal human females. Phase 18, Progenoids, are the implants by which geneseed zygotes are normally harvested. Black Widows are able to pass on, through an unidentified process, their modifications to their female offspring.

Battlecry:
“The Thirst of Drak’Nal has come!” (it is unknown what this refers to)

++End transmission++

I'm not a huge fan of the fluff, but I like the models you've made.

Okay, you guys asked for it and here it is:
I've made a tutorial on how to do a quick and easy Female Space Marine. This is designed so that anyone can do it, regardless of your level of experience with green stuff, and takes about 5 minutes to do. All of what you are about to see I did in less then 5 minutes, and that includes picture taking time.

i can't believe i just read a tutorial on how to model breasts out of green stuff

I love the termies, but that power armor one is not nearly as good. She's just Too stacked.

Dude! A few fins on those puppies and a mohawk and you could have Tank Girl (who, incidentally, could kick all those femmarine's asses)!








Ghidorah

What? No nipples? Even batman cares about chafing those.

Okay, I've got two more excellent illustrations by Goatboy and two more pieces of fluff for you guys to check out. I'm currently gathering together enough fluff and pics to make a Codex: Black Widows to print out. I think that will be really fun for people at the LAGD to be able to pick up a codex to go along with the army.



Incoming Message.....
Transmitter - Station Oriationem 8A57H10-Omicron-5B-Theta…
Receiver – Station Audentia 83645-12B…
Author identified as Senior Santicas Genetor Harkoy…
Beginning Audio Feed…
Beginning Video Feed…
Beginning Holo Feed…
Displaying now…

Puertia Class Autopsy Report #93472-J.40
Ardura Primus-Steiermark-Polizeirevier Sechste
15/09/11668

1930 Local Standard Time: Subject corpse delivered under attendant polizei guard operating under Lentus clearance 234.754-H. Subjects clothing and gear removed with some difficulty due to cauterized blood around torsal wounds and delivered to Junior Santicas Joseph Kileman for examination. (Reference #93472-J.43 examination report) 1 (one) set of civilian clothes; 1 (one) mesh-material under-suit, materials identified as local make normally issued to standing guard, small power-supply unit, heavily damaged during removal process; 2 (two) pistols, make and design identified as autobaugn reuger 22’s; 17 (seventeen) pieces of jewelry and personal artifacts discovered, among them imperial dog tags from private Fraun Ultren. Datum Servitor Y3.64-D beginning tabulae search but cautions that complete search of all imperial worlds will require 14.66 standard years without further search refinements.

2010 LST: Initial visual investigation leaves no doubt to the cause of death. Subject suffered complete circulatory-system failure, consistent with the reported method of termination, having received a direct hit from a Triplex Pattern Plasma Gun during a peace demonstration, burning a hole .32 meters into the chest cavity, destroying the primary heart, and the left ventricle of the secondary heart, and cauterizing the primary lobe arteries. Presence of secondary heart in female frame indicates high-functioning levels of mutation, mandating a Secunduas-level internal autopsy to follow.

2014 LST: Subjects vital statistics measured as follows: Height: 6’2”, (93rd percentile for standard human female), weight 168 pounds, hair color black-22. Eye color, green-16. Spectral analysis indicates hair and skin pigmentation with altering bio-dermal compounds normally associated with the Melanochrome gland found in adeptus astartes. Mammory glands noted to be unusually large for frame (89th percentile for standard human female). Singular example of ritualistic scarring consistent with the Yparah peace-movement detected. Large symbol discovered on the back of subject’s neck, bearing unidentified markings. Unable to determine if mark is brand or tattoo. No other scars or birthmarks noted. Fingernails, Toenails, and face of subject were painted with various pigmentations to alter their color. Data Servitor 823.X53 could not correlate colors and patterns to any known cult, but suggests a 91% possibility that the markings are linked to Arduran courtship and dance customs. Skin type 2-C showing a consistent tone with no blemishes. Subject appears to lack body hair except for head and eyebrows. Epidermal analysis indicates that hair growth appears to have been deactivated at the cellular level. No explanation currently available.

2039 LST: The chest cavity proved difficult to open, requiring the strength of two Servitors with Tygor pattern servo-meds. Ribcage displayed ossification and inter-laced bone plates consistent with Ossmodula organ modifications, but required 28% less force then standard, possibly due to smaller frame. Remnants of secondary heart indicate reduced capacity and size, again, possibly due to smaller chest cavity. Datum Servitor Y3.64-D calculates 71% probability that secondary heart acts merely as a supplement to primary heart, and would be unable to sustain sufficient diastolic pressure independently.

2210 LST: Examination of internal organs progressing. Unable to locate anticipated scarring, internal or external, from implantation of additional organs. Biscopea not present, which is consistent with muscle mass and distribution, both of which are within normal human ranges. Both Preomnor and Multi-Lung exist not as separate organs, but as integrated chambers of stomache and lung respectively. Both Progenoid Glands completely absent, and appear to have never existed, meaning that there would be no way to harvest gene-seed from subject and create additional ones. If more abominations like this one, cannot be created, this would indicate a finite threat.

2341 LST: Skull has been opened and examination progressing. Catalepsean Node and Sus-an Membrane are completely integrated into surrounding tissues. Genetic sampling indicates lack of genetic neutrality. Datum Servitor Y3.64-D calculates 82.1% probability that additional organs present since birth or possibly conception, but offers no explanation on how such a thing could be achieved. Lyman’s Ear also shows lack of scarring nor shows genetic neutrality, and appears to be the natural inner ear developed from conception.
Occulobe organ appears to be heavily altered and presents itself as a large hemispherical organ integrated directly onto the brain’s sensory centers. Effect unknown, although Data Servitor 495.X43 noted an unusual distribution of the different regions of the subject’s brain. The subject’s brain’s pleasure center is approximately 38% larger then in found in standard human females, and has far more connections to the sensory areas of the brain then is normal.

2417 LST: Servus M-433.S reports completion of genetic analysis. Analysis indicates that subject is genetically female, making possibility of surgical alteration now .2%. Serves reports heavy presence of non-mamillian chromosomal sequences and possible presence of fifth base pair. Servus M-433.S deactivated and scheduled for incineration to prevent possible taint of witchcraft. Servus M-317.S tasked with repeating genetic sequencing to verify findings. Station Oriationem instructed to stand by to relay verified findings to Inquisitional Center at Pars-Oriens Datatarium (Reference # 93472-J.41)

0116 LST: Epidural layers on torso have been peeled back, revealing the presence of invasive neural bundles consistent with Black Carapace organ. However, no neural sensors or transfusion points have been fitted, masking it’s presence until now. Without plug-in points the implant serves no purpose, leading to speculation if plug-in points were intended to be fitted at some future time. Data Servitor 823.X53 observes that without the plug-in points, there is no external variation between subject and a normal human female.

0122 LST: Servus M-494.T reports completion of blood analysis. No sign of viral, bacteriological or toxicological contamination has been detected, and the hormonal patterns are only marginally consistent with standard human female, with estrogen and glycogen 23% higher then normal, and three unknown hormonal types present, making possibility of surgical alteration now .005%. Levels of HCG, Human Corionic Gonadotine detected, indicating pregnancy.

0235 LST: Opening of uterus revealed unborn fetus, which appears to have died some short time after the subject. Calcium dating and cellular differentiation indicate that the fetus has been developing for eight weeks. This is inconsistent with visual examinations, which place the fetus well into the second trimester. Servus M-494.T estimates 4 month gestation period, but unable to confirm with available data.

0251 LST: Internal autopsy of fetus has revealed presence of additional organs in development, patterns identical to the mother subject. Rather than being implanted, they seems to have been hard-wired into the genetic code, although no known craft could achieve such a thing. It is highly inappropriate for me to inject personal commentary into this report, but for the sheer shock in which I find myself I feel I must. By The God-Emperor this creature is abhorrent to me, and I cannot in good faith proceed without fear of tainting my own soul. It makes my skin crawl just to look at it, and my soul shakes to consider the purpose of such a thing. I am ordering a hault to this autopsy, and will contact my superiors at…

Message feed interrupt.....
Transmitter - Station Inquisit-J25321 666 Location blocked…
Message redirect without tracer authorized – Clearance Level Ultraviolet…
Immediate execution by lethal weapons fire of Senior Santicas Genetor Harkoy and attendant staff commanded of attendant polizei guard…
Subject corpse and attendant Servitors to be placed in stasis immediately until further notice.
Puertia Class AutopsyReport #93472-J.40 No longer found
Transmission Ends…





Lord Ustin Michka had only two regrets in his life. The first was that in his youth, he was possessed of an unquenchable ambition. He wanted power. Not the meaningless power that his peers sought, the kind of power that enjoys titles and ceremony, but real power. The power to make decisions that affect the lives of trillions of people. He wanted the power to guide the course of humanity, and change it for the better. He wanted the power to triumph over the enemies of the Imperium, and keep safe the lives of its citizens. This ambition had lead him to create many alliances with questionable individuals over the years, and had lead him to break many promises to people of integrity.
His second regret was that he had achieved his goals. In front of him lay an incredibly detailed three-dimensional map of Segmentum Ultima, which covered a large portion of the northern part of the galaxy. More than three-hundred-thousand inhabited planets, united under a single banner of The Emperor.
Without asking leave, Ustin’s attaché Miskyla Valkashin entered the room. There was no need to stand on ceremony when it was just the two of them. Ustin trusted her completely, and added a third regret to his mind. After so many years sharing duty and bed, he should have taken her to wife long ago. Miskyla did not know that Ustin had already appointed her as his successor, instead of that idiot Valkiev, but it was doubtful that anything would be different between them if she knew, for in addition to her stunning beauty, she had a mind like a razor, partnered with a terrible patience, which Ustin knew would make her a very dangerous leader for anyone to contend with.
A saucer of rassolnik stew was placed down along with a shot glass of uralite vodka, which would go un-drunk, just like all of the others. In his youth, Ustin had been a heavy drinker, but now he could not touch the stuff. He needed both eyes open to make the decisions that were his burden to make. Ustin took in a few spoonfuls of the hearty stew, before pushing the bowl away from him. He could not remember the last time he’d had an appetite.
In a recess built into the floor, sat a ring of mysterious figures, hooded and cloaked. Wires and cables spilled out from where their arms should have been, connecting to the base of the projector which created the display in front of Ustin and Miskyla. Some of the higher-ranking members of the cult of the machine, who had voluntarily given up their humanity to become the most perfect expression of their faith. Cyberneticly altered to such a huge degree that their will had been completely swallowed up in their function. In fulfillment of ancient oaths, they served Ustin as they had his successors, as the core of his intelligence network. Their minds touched every ghost of the Machine God, on every planet under his supervision. Their eyes saw through every machine-eye and auger on countless worlds, and their minds perceived every message and command.
Ustin had ordered them hooded and cloaked, for they were horrible to look upon, with cables and machinery bursting forth from grey necrotic flesh, and small clicking mechanical mandibles which twitched and flexed grotesquely with a will all of their own.
With a simple command, the projection spread and passed around Ustin and Miskyla as it enlarged, highlighting the center of the Tyrant Cordon, where the fighting was most fierce. The latest reports from Tridia indicated that Gual’Du’Har’s Legionnaires controlled nearly sixty percent of the surface, and nearby Ural was faring no better. The battle for the space lanes over Tridia, which had been the only part of the campaign going well for them, had been reversed by the arrival of several Ork fleets.
Ustin wished that he could go back in time and speak with himself as a young man. There was no glamour in command. There was no glory or honor. To be in command is to be a butcher, not of the enemy, but of your own men. To be in command is to send men to their death, and it was not something that anyone should aspire to achieve. It was a horrible numbers game. You kill ten men, in the hopes that it will save twenty, but it does not change the fact that you are the one sending those ten to die. Trade a thousand lives to save a billion and you are a hero…to everyone except the thousand that die, that is.
“Battle group Omera is to disengage from Ural immediately, and reinforce Battlegroup Nepena at Tridia,” Ustin commanded, with some difficulty.
“Estimate complete loss of Ural system within sixteen days of Battlegroup withdrawal,” came the cold reply from a priest.
“Execute,” Ustin ordered coarsely. The decision was wrenching, but he had to make a dozen such decisions each and every day. This decision, in particular, had been acutely difficult. If he did nothing, both systems would be destroyed, but Ural was his homeland, and most of his family still lived there. Ustin put his aged hands up to his face. He would kill every man, woman, and child on Ural, in the hope of saving Tridia, which was, unfortunately, more important strategically.
“I am a butcher,” he said as he thought about his nieces and nephews. At that moment they were probably playing in the backyard of his brother’s estate in the nekov mountains, blissfully unaware that their uncle had just condemned them to die, or worse.
Ustin felt a pain in his chest, but it was not brought on by the burden of his office. He clutched feebly at his heart and doubled over in pain. He moved to scream, but his throat was on fire, and he could barely squeak out a whisper.
“Miskyla…Valkiev…anybody, please call an apotheacry in here,” he choked out.
“I’m afraid Mister Valkiev has been dead for some time now,” came the cold reply from the woman standing over him.
Ustin tried to reach out to tap the control runes on his console, but his strength gave out and he fell out of his chair to the ground, knocking over the bowl of stew that she had brought in.
His vision blurring with pain, Ustin could feel his heart stop beating. As he lay there dying, he could only watch helplessly as Miskyla lowered herself down into the recess with the machine priests. Pulling out a small ceramic dagger, the woman began cutting the cables and tubes coming out from their backs, one by one. The priests could do nothing to defend themselves, their decaying bodies having lost the ability to move centuries before. With their nourishment cut off, the clicking of their mandibles became slower and slower, and then finally stopped.
The projection of the Tyrant Cordon flickered a few times before dying, and the room went dark.

The artwork isn't bad, the fluff isn't the worst, but gott verdammt! Why with the breasts? armor functionality for women is not going to change unless their breasts are massively dispreportionate to the size of their body and bone structure.

Perhaps you should read the other users' posts...

Mekboy wrote:Perhaps you should read the other users' posts...

Oh but I did. I was just reiterating for Thunder's sake.

Shattered Soul wrote:

Mekboy wrote:Perhaps you should read the other users' posts...

Oh but I did. I was just reiterating for Thunder's sake.

Thanks. Believe it or not, I tried it out several different ways before settling on this method. I even tried just taking a normal space marine and placing a female head on it. It didn't work. It looked awkward. Maybe it's because I've been in 40K so long, and GW always make their female models with armored cups, I just expected it as part of the design, so it looked weird when it wasn't there. More importantly, you couldn't tell it was female unless you picked it up and gave it a close inspection. Since the point of 40K heroic scale is for the models to be easily recognizable from several feet away, I decided to go with the current design.

Any chance of machine gun jubblies?!

Seriously though, good work. I agree, without armored cups there really is no distinction that they are female.

I really like the Termies. The work you've done on them gets the 'female' look across perfectly. Much akin to how GW does the SoB. I think your regular power armor is a bit excessive though. I'd say tone it down to the same level as your termies and you'll have a good look.

Okay, I got the final illustration from Goatboy and another fluff story. Now we have everything we need to make our own codex.







Roberte Limeman coughed another lung full of stale dry air as he thumbed through the dim data-slates before him, adding his thumbprint where necessary. He tried as best he could to ignore the vibrations coming up through the floor and into his chair. Distant artillery fire thrummed rhythmically, causing ripples in the cup of caf on his desk. The raids had drawn out farther and farther to the west in the past few days, leaving him far from the fighting, but try as he might he could not force himself to calm down. He wiped the beading sweat off his brow with the cuff of his sleeve as he sent off yet another request for immediate transfer.
Three deliberate clacks rang out on his office door from the guards outside. Roberte coughed again and walked over as fast as his portly body would allow, tapping the rune on the doorframe.
“Mister Limeman, The Union Leaders from the lower hive are here to see you about the water rationing.”
“Union Leaders?” Roberte repeated in confusion. “I moved their appointment to tomorrow.”
Through the door, Roberte heard the crack of gunfire and a terrible scream. His eyes grew wide with fear and he turned around, struggling back towards his desk.
The sounds of scuffle subsided, then there was a sound like thunder and the door to his office blew inward, propelled by a gout of flame that drove it across the room where it embedded itself into the stone shrine of Saint Augusta on the far end.
Roberte rummaged clumsily through his drawer. Everything was eerily silent as he pulled the desk drawer free and emptied its contents onto the floor before him. His hearing shocked by the blast, he heard strange clattering noises as he located his autopistol and chambered a round.
Roberte turned around and saw a young woman entering his office through the ruined doorway. She wore the long rough clothing of the lower hive, but her stance was strong and her eyes burned with lethal vigor and purpose.
No words were wasted as Roberte leveled his pistol and fired as best he could. The woman stepped sideways like lightning, his shot passing harmlessly past her as she leapt forward. Adjusting his aim he fired again. This time she made no effort to dodge, allowing his poorly aimed bullet to tear through the sleeve of her robes as if she knew that was where it would pass.
She rushed towards him, and he lowered his aim for another shot, but she closed the final feet before he could fire. Now inside his defenses, she grabbed a hold of his forearm wither her delicate fingers, and it fell limp at his side, the gun falling from his grasp and clattering to the floor.
Unable to move his arm, he attempted a clumsy punch with his other arm, but she ducked beneath it and grabbed it as well. Her fingers jammed into the pressure points of his muscles, and that arm fell as limp and useless as the first.
Roberte lost his balance and fell backwards. Unable to catch himself, the back of his head slammed against the cold dusty floor. His vision blurred in and out of darkness. Distantly, he could hear the thrum of more gunfire in the hallway outside his office, and the vibration of distant artillery fire.
When his vision cleared, he saw the beautiful face of the young woman looking over him.
“I’m sorry, precious,” she said in low sultry tones, “But I don’t have time for anything else.”
Taking his face in her hands, she kissed him passionately. His eyes rolled back into his head, then disintegrated. His face and body followed, reduced in seconds to a dried black husk lying on the floor.
“Stop wasting time,” Chiaki rebuked as she walked into the room, a guard’s autogun slung over her shoulder. The weaken skull of the husk shattered beneath her foot as she confidently strode over to the blast door behind his desk and pulled the release lever. Akina sighed and wiped a trickle of spittle from her lips. Chiaki had only recently joined them, and her time spent among the Black Legion had muddied her thinking.
The rusted locks creaked in protest, then gave way and the doors slowly slid open. A gust of pure moist air rushed into the room, fanning the leathery dress that Chiaki wore as she looked on in displeasure.
The room beyond was a stark contrast to the one they were in. The walls were thick with wet grey moss that clung to the pipe fittings and weld-lines. Light played off the surface of cool clear water as it permeated through the final bio-filters before being fed into the pumping systems beyond.
A trio of pallid servitors stood motionless, their arms dissolving into a tangle of rusted cables and wires that plugged into the control surfaces before them.
The servitors made no response to their presence. Their environmental awareness having long ago been deemed unnecessary by the template of their bio-programming. Nevertheless, Chiaki shouldered her autogun and emptied the clip into their heads, spraying the area with soft tissue and bone.
“You seem troubled by this mission, even irritable I’d say,” Akina observed as she stepped into the room and stretched in the moist air.
“No, Madam Sergeant,” Chiaki said steadily as she followed. “I do not consider this to be a proper use of military resources.”
“Don’t you mean a proper use of your skills?” Akina asked, leaning over to look at the water tanks below. “You’ve picked up a lust for glory and it’s tainted your thinking.”
“A water treatment plant is at best a low-priority civilian target,” Chiaki asserted.
“Emperor’s teeth, you even talk like the Legionaries,” Akina complained as she removed a vial from her pocket. “This facility has been our primary target for the last three weeks, we just had to displace a few regiments and a couple of titans before we could get to it.”
Akina snapped the vial in half and poured the silver contents into the water below.
“Killing the civilian population will have no impact on the planetary garrisons,” Chiaki commented. “They have their own recycling systems.”
“This is no poison,” Akina corrected, licking her fingers. “This is Bhanemold.”
Chiak’s eyes widened.
“By the end of the week,” Akina explained, placing a vox caster on her ear, “The planetary defense militia will have The Black Legion in front of them, and seven billion starving cannibals behind them.”
Chiaki stepped back, considering the implications.
“Com-Sat recall order, prep dust-off one hour,” Akina ordered into the vox.
“Madam Sergeant, we’re leaving planetside?” Chiaki asked.
“This planet is already dead. They just don’t know it yet.”

For my Dreadnought, I made the pilot visible by using the female penitent engine driver (which was a LOT more work then I thought it would be), and next I'll replace the legs with robot-spider legs. Here's what I got so far:






Next up is to start working on the spider legs. I'll post more pice when I have them.



Since this will have a radically altered look to it, I have come up with these following house rules to field it:

Black Widows Dreadnought : 100 points
Black Widows Dreadnought WS-4 BS-4 S-6 Armour: F 11 S 11 R 10 I-4 A-3 LD-10
Unit Type: Vehicle (Walker)
Wargear: Smoke Launchers, Searchlight, Dreadnought Close Combat Weapon incorporating a Heavy Flamer.
Special Rules: Scouts, Move Through Cover, Fleet.
Transport: May select a Drop Pod at +30 points.
Options: The other arm must be armed with one of the following: Twin-linked Lascannon for 35 points, Twin-linked Heavy Bolter for 15 points, Assault Cannon for 30 points, Multi-melta for 10 points. May have extra armor for 15 points.

OCTUPLE CHAINSAWS!


Quite the bash, look forward to some legs on it. I tried putting defiler legs on a dread about a year ago and had no luck, they were just too big and I couldn't get them to mash into the dread pelvis without a serious rebuild.

- Salvage

Regards the "spider" undercarriage for the dread...

I'm not sure if it'd be an acceptable source (given the hate levelled at pre-painted minis I've seen around) but there are a couple of the Therian walkers from AT-43 that may be suitable.

I think one is called the "Golgoth" or something similar.
They are 4 legged walkers, and there is something insectile about the locomotive gear while looking wholly mechanical and artificial.

Alternatively, perhaps the larger MC scything talons from a tyranid carnifex?

Admittedly, I did pick up the starter set for a bargain ($50 aus, instead of the usual $90-100), if I'd paid full retail I might not have even considered it.

Okay, I got some close up pics of one of the Drop Pods and the first pics of the Femarines in Power Armor. As before, click on a thumbnail to see a larger pic.

Enjoy.

Hazard Stripes Everywhere +1
Chaos Heads with Ponytails +1

Racking up those points with me, Doc

- Salvage

The ilustations are great but I am not too hot on the terminator with cute anime girl.
Shes a term shes suposed to be experienced and battle worn. No dirty jokes!

Sorry if for some reasson its mentioned in the fluff why that one is so cute looking. I admit i havnt read it :O

Something about bewbs on a SM model makes my eyes burn. But great modelling, painting and fluff. Obviously a lot of work has gone into this, keep it up!

Boss_Salvage wrote:Hazard Stripes Everywhere +1
Chaos Heads with Ponytails +1

Racking up those points with me, Doc

- Salvage

Thanks, Bro.

Boss_Salvage wrote:Hazard Stripes Everywhere +1
Chaos Heads with Ponytails +1

Racking up those points with me, Doc

- Salvage

You said "RACK"...

Actualy, I know someone who made female sace marines by carfully removing SoB heads, and putting them on regular space marine bodies, and scouts were converted cadiulus assassians, with camo-cloaks.


Also, all vehicles should have "Sheila's Wheels" insurance markers.

Okay, the Dreadnought is all done and ready to be painted.






Let me know what you think.

Unfortunately for all, Thunder was unavailable to comment himself.


Ghidorah

"Black Widows lack Phase 3 and 18 Implants. Phase 3, Biscopea, stimulates muscle tissue growth, which is why Black Widows are no physically stronger then normal human females. They are therefore, perhaps intentionally, externally indistinguishable from normal human females. Phase 18, Progenoids, are the implants by which geneseed zygotes are normally harvested. Black Widows are able to pass on, through an unidentified process, their modifications to their female offspring."

First of all, normal-sized human women don't really fit into power armor, which is why they invented the more lightly-armored sisters of battle. Even in the case that you put a normal-sized woman in power armor, there's lots of empty space. Normal sized women would not NEED epic torpedo tit armor, just like women in the military don't wear special bullet-proof breasts. It would have been one thing if you gave them big, beefy looking heads like the rest of the space marines, but instead you gave them petite, feminine faces that would be easier to sexualize.

Your fluff is self-contradictory, and the only constructive criticism I can offer is that if you're going to spend your time, effort, and money on a hobby that can alienate you from regular people, you should try not to creep out the people who DO share your hobby so much.

You should not be so deeply concerned about the reproductive systems of your fictional girl marines. The models themselves show talent and effort, but the fluff reads like hentai.

I've had a lot of requests for more fluff, even some requests for a mini-novel, and that sounded like a fun idea, so here we go. Here is the first chapter for you guys to read.

Chapter One: Lure

To an average person, the long spacious tunnels of the cities pneumatic transit system were nothing more then a roar of rushing air and scraping metal as the ancient passenger lines followed the routes set down thousands of years before. To Nui, however, that was only the first layer of a symphony of sounds and smells. The drip-drop of running water over rotting stone, the scratching of rodents gnawing on the cera-casing of the brass power lines, and the tart scent of fear and adrenaline emanating from the cadets around her could all be filtered and enhanced at will.
As the halo lights of an unused checkpoint flickered rapidly through the car, Nui focused her olfactory senses on the young man seated next to her as a way to pass the time. Although his face and body showed the bony signs of malnutrition, his hair still gave off the unmistakable flakiness of a regular diet of barley. This marked him as a definite off-worlder, probably one of the earliest reserves called up from the core systems when this hive world first came under attack ten years before.
What was the name of this world? It struck Nui as odd that she could not instantly recall it. Normally her memory was flawless when it came to mission details, but try as she might, the information just wasn’t there.
Nui sighed audibly, although no one but her could hear it over the roar of the air that motivated the cylindrical transport cars. Hive worlds all felt the same after a while. Endless ferracrete corridors, pavilions, and towers all following the same ceremonial building constructs. It occurred to her that the only way to really distinguish them from one another was the preferential treatment of one or more local saints in the santuarials.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a new scent. Drill Sergeant Kuppmine slid a hand along the overhead handle bar as he walked down the center isle, inspecting each of the young cadets with his stone cold eyes. When he reached Nui’s squad he paused and looked them over. His leathery face was a mask of distant disapproval, but his scent told her another story. His body gave off the tart scent of desire as her looked her over.
Nui resisted the urge to spit. Her body had been designed to be flawlessly attractive to the men of this world, and while it occasionally served a purpose it was more often then not a liability. Nui considered the option of intentionally scarring her own face to avoid future complications as she raised her gaze and met his eyes with a stare as cold and dark as his was.
“Arrival time, two minutes,” Sergeant Kuppmine yelled out, and the formerly passive passenger car became a flurry of activity.


There were 9 men in the transport with Mikial Breech. Jacoby and Smithson had pulled an ammunition crate to the center of the transport area, directly under the top hatch, and were poking their heads out of the top, keeping watch on their rear quarter. The enemy forces had been completely pushed out of this district by a combined attack from the 455th, 230th, and 243rd. Rumor had it that an entire Demi-Legion of Adeptus Titanicus had managed to support the battle as well. Confident as they were, they were still watchful as they moved though the ruined and deserted streets. The civilian population had not yet rturned to rebuild, and there were persistent rumors of cadet patrols disappearing over the last few days.

Breech had been promoted to squad sergeant because, unlike most Questani, he had been stationed off-planet for a brief time during his service to the Emperor. It was supposed that this gave him a greater breadth of experience, which marked him out for leadership. Breech didn’t really consider guarding the shrine of the Martyr of Casadrin, and memorizing the legends of her life to have given him much in the way of useful combat experience, but he would serve wherever he was called, regardless of the post. From his viewing slit, he could see the decaying bodies of hundreds of humans, dressed in ragged and bizarre robes, adorned with symbols that burned his eyes to look at them. In his youth, Breech had been quite the promising student of Imperial history. He had never come across any mention of such humans anywhere in the annals of any librarium he had visited, and it often made him wonder how the most complete compilations of knowledge could have such obvious and gaping holes in them.
The smell of decaying flesh was unlike anything else a person could smell. The foul bodies Breech saw lay undisturbed where they had fallen, stripped of nothing. It was customary among other regiments to take weapons, ammunition, and trophies when moving through a site such as this, but Questani were far too wary for that, for they knew that only by refusing any contact with the impure could one truly be protected from their influence. When time permitted, areas such as this would be purified with thermal charges, reducing them to ash. It was the surest way, the Questani way.
As the last three tanks moved past the center point of a trench network, no one noticed as a small metallic cylinder roll out from amongst the twisted wreckage. The cylinder disappeared underneath the tank tracks of the Chimera as it rolled over the device. For a moment nothing happened, then there was a small thud, and arcs of blue fire shot up the side of the transport and washed over it, like water rolling over rocks in a stream. It would actually have been quite lovely, were it not for the havock it wrought on the vehicle. Headlights and signal runes flashed red-hot and then burnt out, the vehicle’s vox array fizzled white-hot and melted down to a little black stump, Jackoby and Smithson dropped back down into the tank, clutching their charred faces with ruined and burnt hands, their screams muffled by the screeching protests of the tank as it ground to a halt.
Mikial grabbed ensign Byron by the collar.
“Rev-up your vox, tell them that we need to get a medic out here right now. We’ve got two men down.” Breech raised up his fist, and his squad opened the rear hatch and deployed around the rear quarter of the motionless tank. Their weapons trained and scanning for any signs of an attacking force. Quick and fearless they were, professional servants of the Emperor.
Byron nodded unconsciously to the responses coming in through his vox and then raised up his head. “The Colonel is on the line, sir.”
“Put it on speaker,” ordered Breech.
The gruff voice of the Colonel came through. Even through the static reduction of his voice through the vox system, Breech could tell he was irritated.
“Breech, what the warp happened back there?”
“Not sure yet. Could have been a mine, but it looked like sorcery to me. The tank stopped cold,” Breech reported. Another voice could be heard talking to the colonel in rasping metallic tones.
“You have angered the war-spirits, and they refuse to work under your command, Crandall. As I told you before, the rituals cannot be, as you put it, ‘rushed’.”
Colonel Crandall could be heard retorting to the adept, “Let me ask you a question, are you able to speak to me without any loss of efficiency as you consult them augers for enemy forces?”
There was a pause.
“No, I am not,” responded the metallic voice.
“Then why do you seek to fail in the duty which you were given while at the same time attempting to perform a duty which you have not been given?”
Breech was delighted that he could listen in on this particular conversation, and his admiration for the colonel increased a bit more.
“I received word from the 230th, they have pushed back the enemy forces here all the back back to Sendicus Hive, if they can receive enough reinforcements within the next 24 terran hours, they can route the enemy there before they can be reinforced themselves,” the colonel explained. “You know what I’m asking.”
Breech felt a tinge of fear, for they would be quite on their own for some time. The value of the confrontation far outweighed their personal lives, and the detachment couldn’t wait for their tank to be repaired.
“We will do our duty,” Breech stated. “Go on without us.”
“That is all The Emperor asks, my boy.” There was a pause before Crandall added, “But, don’t worry, you won’t be alone.”


Engineseer Voeck stared at the colum of tanks disappearing into the distance with a sort to detachment, as if he was watching a dream. That was a ridiculous notion, of course, since his cybernetic augmentations made it impossible for him to dream. Dreams were physical manifestations of the weakness inherent in all creations of the flesh. Creations of the Machine God were far stronger, closer to the perfection of the Machine God itself. To be left behind to attend to this damaged transport was an inexcusable waste of time and resources. A second circle, third tier adept of the Omnisiah would be far more useful during the coming battle, where he could aid the spirits of dozens of the fighting vehicles, not tending a single sick war-spirit.
This will be reported as quickly as possible and Colonel Crandall shall be stripped of his command Voeck thought, his cybernetic face mandibles clicking in irritation. He turned around to look at the squad of Questani efficiently building defensive barricades from the wreckage of nearby tanks and buildings. ‘Efficient’ by their understanding perhaps. Using the remains of dead machine-creatures without properly appeasing their former war-spirits was akin to grave robbing, and would certainly bring bad fortune to them all. The cybernetic voicebox in Voeck’s throat created a faint high-pitched rumble, which only another adept of the Machine God would recognize as a sigh. 8 flesh creatures and two machine creatures. At least he would have the tank to keep him company.


The sun had already set when Sergeant Breech took his turn on the watch. Voeck had not said a word to anyone else for the last five hours, grumbling after the manner of his kind as he worked on the damaged tank, and that suited them both just fine. Their position was known to central command, although that offered little comfort to them as the wind howled, bayed, and sometimes spoke whispers of death as it played over the surfaces of the dead bodies nearby. Such were the ways of this strange new enemy of dark humans, and Breech his men were unimpressed. Four times over the last decade they had fought off these strange attackers, and each time they had been driven back, nearly to their drop sites. This time would be no different.
They risked no fire, but rather activated a heat-plate, which gave off the heat of a regular campfire, but no visible light. This gave them the benefit of not loosing their night-vision, for tonight was going to be especially dark. Michaels and Jet also stood watch, Helfter was using the latrine, and the rest of his squad stood around the heat-plate, consuming their rations and quietly chanting the litany of peace to themselves. Breech was no poet, but even he could recognize the meaningful image of a few faithful men chanting their faith to The Emperor in the middle of this warped garbage heap.
Far above, Breech could make out the shadowy outlines of the bony superstructure of the hive, it’s monitor lights twinkling faintly as if they were starlight. Out of the corner of his eye, Breech recognized the silhouette of Helfter returning from the latrine. Breech took another bite out of his ration bar, and noticed that Helfter was walking a little oddly. Breech chuckled to himself. He had told Helfter that those caff tablets were past the expiration date. Now he probably had Walton’s Revenge.
Breech stopped chewing as the silhouette of Helfter got within a few meters of him and he realized that the silhouette and gait were all wrong to be Helfter. It was a female in cadet battle fatigues.
Breech dropped his ration bar to the ground and raised his autogun, but the figure was already on top of him. He fired a shot uselessly and tried to scream, but the woman had already plunged a piece of metal into his throat. A horrible gurgle left his body as she removed the blade, and quick as lightning, fired a drawn pistol with a horrible crack into his chest.
The impact of the shot sent Breech flying, his body landing on top of the heat-plate with a dead thud. The men around him scattered to take cover and begin laying down covering fire as they had been trained. The shadow of the figure that had shot Breech ducked behind a piece of ferro-crete. True to their training, four men kept up a stead rate of fire as Jet and Michaels moved around to flank the now pinned assailant. A small black object shot up into the air and burst into a blinding flash of light. Men screamed and covered their eyes. Above the screams, two loud shots rang out, and when their vision clearer two men lay dead on the ground. The men trained their weapons carefully, their eyes straining to readjust to the darkness.
Michaels and Jet took cover behind a large boulder. They could hear the horrible sizzle from the heat-plate where Breech’s flesh was now cooking. A shot rang out and Jet took it in the chest, his body thrown back into a rations crate. Michaels instinctively ducked down, hiding behind the boulder.
Startled by the commotion, Voeck scuttled out from the back of the transport, his artificial limbs twitching this way and that as he stumbled across the loose ground. The young woman landed behind him and swept his legs out from under him. She dug a dagger into the ground beneath him, then moved on without stopping to watch as Voeck’s face came down on the blade, passing through the organic parts of his brain before breaking out the other end.
Michaels tracked her as she moved, letting off a few wild shots into the dark, before feeling a tight jerk backwards as a bullet tore through his knee. He could hear screaming as he fell backwards, and it took him a moment to realize that it was him. Two more shots rang out, each one tearing through his elbows.

Nui placed a final shot in the man’s other knee and kicked his weapon free for good measure before allowing herself to relax. Already a black pool of blood was forming underneath him as he gasped for breath, his eyes wild with fear. She dug the heel of her boot into his injured knee, and he screamed even louder, his head arching back in agony.
Slowly, Nui crouched down and took the man’s cheeks in her hands.
“Show it to me,” she demanded cruelly. “I want to see that moment in your eyes, when you look into the abyss, and realize that no one awaits you there.”
“The Emperor is my light,” the man gurgled, blood spilling down his chin. His eyes began to close, but she forced them back open with her thumbs.
“No!” Nui shouted. “Don’t lie to me. Tell me what you see! Show me that there is no warmth in the void!”
“The Emperor is my life,” he whispered as his eyes grew dark.
Nui cursed and threw him aside. She couldn’t stand the look believers had on their face when they died. That look of quiet contentment and relief made her blood boil. She knew the truth, and that these fools would perpetrate their lies even at the moment of death was infuriating.
Nui took a few moments to pile all of the bodies onto the heat plate, like some sort of sickly barbecue. It was little touches like this that made her work more enjoyable and took her mind off other things. Pulling out the entrails of one of the men, she ornamentally hung them off of stiff fingers and protruding limbs. This certainly wasn’t worthy of the craftsmanship of the Night Lords, but it was a start. She grabbed a large piece of sheet metal and laid it out in front of the pile of bodies. Using a chuck of metal, she scratched in the words, “We are the children of Nal’Tret reborn, none shall escape our wrath.”
She found the phrase a bit pedantic, but then again cultists always did have an overdramatic streak in them. Taking out a data slate, Nui double-checked the positions of the thirteen other pyres she had created over the past few days, perfectly arrayed along the cardinal points of a summoning circle nearly a kilometer in diameter
The sound of a heartbeat caught Nui attention and she crouched down, reholstering her slate and drawing her sidearm as silently as she could. Had she missed one of the squad members? She cursed herself at the possibility of it. Her mission parameters demanded that there be zero witnesses.
Drawing closer to the source of the noise, Nui replayed her actions over the last weeks in her mind, earmarking the unacceptable number of mistakes and mentally chastising herself. She was definitely losing her edge, and if she didn’t get it back the whole mission could be in jepordy.
Nui kicked a crate aside and trained her pistol on the small crouching figure. It was a child, filthy and ragged, picking through the spilled contents of the rations crate. It looked up at her with the startled eyes of a wild animal. The child’s muscles were taught, ready to flee, but she kept shoving the ration bars, wrapper and all, into her mouth as quickly as she could.
Nui’s muscles relaxed as she rebuked herself. She should have easily been able to distinguish a child’s heartbeat from an adult’s. Nui raised the pistol and pointed it at the child’s head.
The child gave no reaction, and gulped down the half-chewed contents of her mouth as if the only thing she truly feared was to have them torn away from her mouth before she had a chance to swallow.
Nui commanded her hand to pull the trigger, but no shot rang out. Nui attempted to fire again, but nothing happened. Sensing it’s chance, the child grabbed two handfuls of rations and fled.
For several moments Nui stood motionless, compelling her body to move as the child scuttled away, but her body was frozen in place.
What is wrong with me?
It was the chime of her vox-comm that broke her from her trance. She bought a hand up to her ear and clicked twice to signal reception.
“Mission stat-rep, Corporal?” came the earnest voice of Sergeant Tae over the communicator.
“Mission complete, ready to receive evac-coordinates,” Nui responded, forcing her voice to remain steady.
“Did you create the sacrificial pyres as you were instructed?” Tae asked.
“Aye, Madam Sergeant,” Nui responded steadily. “There were no witnesses.”
“Excellent work, Corporal,” Tae praised. “When the local Commissaratt investigates the scene, they will be convinced that Nal’Tret cultists have begun another reign of blood on this world.”
“And that will lead Inquisitor Zukovich here,” Nui added.
“The bait is set.”

Nice dread Doc, those legs really worked out. What are they from? Cause they look the business for sure.

- Salvage

Why do people get freaked out about girl marinez when the originals were chemically castrated anyway? And are torpedo breasts any more OTT than helmetless screaming leaders, naked space elves (or space elves with viagra helmets), spikey bitz likely to impale the wearer, etc.?

Good job on the models and I am sure the fluff isn't any worse than what passes for background for GW.

jmurph wrote:
Good job on the models

Thanks.

Nice dread Doc, those legs really worked out. What are they from?

They're from the Robogear spider tank.

I'm lovin' the DCCW - I may have to swipe that. Seems pretty simple.

Okay, here are the test models for the female scouts. When I transition over to using Black Templar Rules, these will be the Neophytes in my squads.

I had many attempts but no success modifying the male scout models, mainly because scout armor does not hide body shape as well as power armor and terminator armor does, so I realized that I needed to start with a model that already had female proportions.

So, I started with the female imperial guard models my club made a while back, and gave them scout arms and wood elf heads and IG backpacks. (This fits in well with the Widows background, which describes them using stolen guard equipment when power armor is not available, and occasionally masquerading as loyalist units behind enemy lines, a trick they picked up from the Alpha Legion) I have had some suggestions at trying out sisters of battle helmets, so I used those as the helmet type and I think it worked well. If I get a chance to aquire more, I'd like to try them out on power armor bodies as well.

Anyway, check out the pics and enjoy. As always, click on a thumbnail to see a larger pic.

I like the scouts quite well, though I might avoid using the SOB helmets on them. They strike me as being too recognizable as being rare. In other words, they are not scavenged SM or IG gear, but very specifically SoB gear, which I don't think you have in your fluff, and I suspect that if you could get SoB armor for girlie marines, one would do so, since it is already fitted to the proportions, and does not require the black carapace etc.

In other news, who the hell doesn't spend time thinking of the reproductive properties of female space marines?! If I could get my wife to stand still long enough for me to start making leather patterns, she would have a full set of SoB power armor.

Nice work on that Dread! Where'd ya get legs like that. In general, the breasts look way too big on your standard girls but at the same time kinda gives off that big-bosomed opera singer vibe. mmm, "Flight of the Valkryies"...

Awesome mate! This looks like it took a lot of time skill and patience! I particularly like the model with orc hair pig tails and the dreadnaught. I tried to do something like that with one of my chaor dreads but ended up making it nurgle instead. I'll have to give it a shot some time.

vikings vs mafia wrote:but the fluff reads like hentai.

You, my friend have NOT read enough hentai, if this is what you consider worthy of the label.

Also I don't think I've ever seen this much uproar about fan conceived fluff in my 40k career. Pan Fo doesn't count. So he made his marines with bewbs... they're HIS marines. He even made fluff that explains them, in a consistent and plausible manner, that conforms with the 'official' storyline. I don't get why you are all having a such a hard time with this.

Lordhat wrote:

vikings vs mafia wrote:but the fluff reads like hentai.

You, my friend have NOT read enough hentai, if this is what you consider worthy of the label.

Also I don't think I've ever seen this much uproar about fan conceived fluff in my 40k career. Pan Fo doesn't count. So he made his marines with bewbs... they're HIS marines. He even made fluff that explains them, in a consistent and plausible manner, that conforms with the 'official' storyline. I don't get why you are all having a such a hard time with this.

If someone posted something, and someone else didn't throw a fit over it, would it still be the internet?

And yeah, no tentacles, so it can't be hentai.

Cool stuff. The chest plates are very very well done on the latest batch of power armor marines.

Some criticism to think about. Try mounting the main dread body lower on the legs. It looks awkward sitting so high up with that half inch gap there. Also, the pig tails are just silly looking in my opinion. For starters, why on earth would they have pig tails? They seem pretty bad ass and pig tails != bad ass. Regular pony tails would do just fine, or use helmetless female heads.

To be functional, power armour must also have a thick layer of padding to help disperse the impact of the shots absorbed by the outer hard armour. I'm thinking foam cells that would be form fitting, but not press inward on the wearer, so that breathing is normal. Since the thickness would need to be uniform, theoretically, power armour made for women would need to have space for the breasts. The general shape of the breast would probably be visible from the outside of the armour.

That being said, the breasts on the power armour girl are gigantic. However, I do know how hard it is to sculpt 28mm females that don't either look like girlie men or porn stars. I have yet to master the "normal looking female" look.

Awesome modelling my friend, if only I had a smidge of your talent.

Also, the thread has been very amusing, I love posters who tell you that you cannot change make believe into some other make believe or need to find ways to justify the bumps on the armour.

Okay I can't resist...perhaps people should remember classical Greek breastplates, they were made to show an idealised chest - these serve the same purpose in what is a matriarchial society.

Wilyc

Okay, I must say I'm very pleased at the way these are turning out. Here are the first two so far.

The engines, I believe, are from The Space Marine battle barge. I got them years ago back when you still could bitz order Battle Fleet Gothic...or bitz order at all for that matter. The legs are from the Slaaneshi Lord on Chaos Steed in Warhammer Fantasy, and are perfect for this project because not only are they in the sitting position, but they are armored in female proportions and wearing a kind of satyr/high heels, which is awesome.
To fit the slimmer legs better I'm using the armored female torso from the Dark Elf Warriors Boxed set rather than converting marine torsos, so that should please lot of people that have been asking for smaller bust sizes, and I'm experimenting with some mutations as you can tell from the Dryad head.

I'll be making a dozen of these, all in all.

As always, click on a thumbnail for a larger pic.

Enjoy.

Stelek wrote:Spiderman + Boobs on trannys.

Where is Iorek??

Ya know I was gonna make a witty comment but Stelek beat me to it

<3 that bike, Doc.

Doctor Thunder wrote:Okay, the Dreadnought is all done and ready to be painted.






Let me know what you think.

This is truly awesome! This thing looks incredible. As soon as I saw it I looked up everything I could about Robogear, but it seems only that spider tank has any really scavengable pieces. This thing is so incredibly cool it has inspired me about thinking of converting a SM Dread/those spidertank legs/some spikes into a CSM Dreadnought. Even though CSM dreads suck, if it looked half as cool as yours I'd be overjoyed to place it on the table. It's just too cool looking an opportunity to pass up giving it a shot.

What scares me is that the female Astartes would all be built like Chyna.

JohnHwangDD wrote:What scares me is that the female Astartes would all be built like Chyna.

You make that sound like a bad thing...

Dude, have you *seen* Chyna?

I have, and it's scary.

Those steroids cause some very pecuiliar, um, "growth"...

JohnHwangDD wrote:Dude, have you *seen* Chyna?

I have, and it's scary.

Those steroids cause some very pecuiliar, um, "growth"...

I almost fell over laughing.

On a more serious note, nice creative models and good job keeping the theme even if some people dont like the idea.

Love that bike... it just screams "Aaaahhh!"

i just have to ask, why make their breast so damn big? i know games workshop models are all out of proportion and such but still that look more like those girlies are stuffing their bras with a meltabomb or two.

Bastirous666 wrote:i just have to ask, why make their breast so damn big? i know games workshop models are all out of proportion and such but still that look more like those girlies are stuffing their bras with a meltabomb or two.

I don't think they are big. If you look at my basic terminator and power armor marines, which comprise 99% of the models, the chest armor, which is stylized, not form fitting, is pretty subtle.

The only one that is big was the tutorial marine, which was just a tutorial.

*slaps self in the head* doh! i are foolish, my bad. god job on getting a sisters look in much bigger models

The only reason people are complaining about the Boob armour is because they're boobs.




Pectorial muscles are ARMOUR DECORATION, do you think that greeks had such big abs that they needed to sculpt the armour to fit them?

Seriously, nice work, but on that Terminator drawing, that face doesn't fit whatsoever, give her a helmet or stop copy-pasting out of Anime stills

Got a great looking update for 'yall. All six Drop Pods are completed and painted. Ever since I forst played Dawn of War I've been hooked on Drop Pods. There's just something too cool abouth these things landing in from orbit with that shoooomp! sound.

I must say, as formidable as one looks, there's nothing quite so cool as seeing six of these things all lined up together.

As always, click on a thumbnail for a larger pic

Enjoy

Okay, i'm a little bit confused, it says that they are created by chaos, and fight for them, but they all have loyalist armour and even have drop pods?

there's another fluff about a group that seem to be somewhat loyalist, are the Black Widows a "Legion of the Damned" type group who turn on their chaos masters?

I hope so, not for the obvious reasons that I'm a guy and would rather see female loyalist marines (though with a backstory like that they'd have to be like the Legion of the Damned) it's for the same reason why I changed my mind about female space marines (like alot of other people I was very much against it until then)

it's cause of the drawings

MARIA TACHIBANA IS NOT A MINION OF CHAOS!

Sumire maybe But noez! not Maria!

so yeah, if they are Female Loyalist space marines led by Maria than it's all good

also I see what you did thar with the *cough*saber*cough* "Marionettes" and the pseudo Elfen Lied thing with the reproduction and such.

oh well could always have a thing where she was visited by like the emperor or had a vision or something , or just pulled a mephiston and actualy somehow managed to free herself of it, disappeared from the battle and began searching for her daughters, who all would have managed to free themselves as well, and/or even giving birth to sons who were fiercely loyal to the emperor. sort of the emperor's way of saying "oh no you don't" and it turns out it's cause either her mate or her father was a Sensei (one of the few biological children of the emperor)

hey I was like the only one to notice the characters are from Sakura Taisen and the other Anime references.

If they had babes with the size of these tits in isngpaore i would have done every single one by now XD hahahahaha


Really great job though, like all the ideas alot as well as the fluff

Ghidorah wrote:So... is this one your squad missile launcher then?




Seriously, though, your modeling is great, but I am just not buying female marines, self-fluff or not. I also second the earlier comment about 'breast armor' on power armor and Termie armor. Great execution, not so great idea.



Ghidorah

I love the Fembot reference. All he needs is to add gun barrels to the bewbs.

Here is Chapter 2 of the Mini Novel. Enjoy.



Chapter Two: Escalation

It occurred to Nui that any “unity” ever shown by the forces of chaos existed only during success. When their enemies were slaughtered and their strongholds overthrown, each of the participating Warlords would claim the lion’s share of the credit, boasting of their martial prowess like pterachickens crowing into the wind.
Now the campaign on Questan was failing, and there was plenty of blame to be thrown around.
“I don’t want to hear about your ammunition shortages,” Cackled the hunched figure of Master Cadencya, Representative of the Dark Mechanicus, the long brass tubes extending from his fingers writhing around on the ground, searching for nutrients. “Even a half-breed would have had sufficient faith in the Dark Gods to overthrow the Secundus Bastion in less then a day. You sat in those trenches for a standard week without success!”
“You dare question me, worm?” roared Warlord Everniha, his white eyes aglow with hate, and black spittle trickling out from the cracks in the stone skin around his mouth. “I will crush the impotent followers of the corpse god. They are sniveling children with bellies full of maggots, and I will show them the true power of Chaos!”
Nui stopped herself from snorting in derision. There was something absurd to her about disrespecting an opponent that the men never seemed to understand. When you portray your enemy as weak and incompetent, and you beat them, it makes your victory seem hollow and effortless. Conversely, if a weak and incompetent enemy were to defeat you, then what would that say about your own skills?
The master of this contradiction, of course, was Abbadon himself, who had managed to be defeated by the “Feeble and Brainless” forces of the Imperium twelve times, all the while parroting his own invincibility. That he had managed to do a dozen times without being turned into chaos spawn is what truly impressed Nui. He was, above all else, a masterful politician.
“We would never have been driven out of Sendicus Hive if the Titanicus had supported us as they swore they would,” Warlord Larkin hissed, his face concealed beneath a cloak due to a particularly horrible mutation.
“Do not pretend to judge me,” Admiral Adonnas screamed back, rapping his cane against the stony ground.
“If they just flapped their arms while they do this the likeness would be uncanny,” Nui whispered to Sergeant Tae as they watched from outside the circle of equals. Her superior silenced her with a glance. They were only one squad among an invasion force of millions, and if the invasion were abandoned their mission could not possibly succeed.
“Sacrifice the plum tree to preserve the peach tree,” Tae said steadily, quoting the 11th stratagem.
“Sacrifice short-term objectives in order to gain the long-term goal,” Nui said, finishing the catechism. “We must risk a more active role.”
“I approach the edge of the circle and request permission to speak,” Sergeant Tae said as she stepped up to the ring of bones. The Warlords ceased their bickering and turned to look at her, their faces masks of rage and terror, yet she met their gazes fearlessly with her steady jade eyes.
“My Lords, this posturing achieves nothing,” Tae began steadily. “Every moment we spend in this circle our opponents reinforce their positions.”
“You cannot invoke the ancient rites, insect,” Warlord Everniha barked, clenching his stony hands, “only those with standing may address the circle.”
“We can no longer assault enemy fortifications, trusting that victory will come because be are morally superior or have stronger faith,” she continued unbidden. “We no longer possess a numerical advantage. Entice the tiger to leave its mountain lair, so says the 15th stratagem.”
“Silence your bitch or I will silence her myself!” Everniha commanded, pointing a stony finger at Cadencya.
“If you will not hear me,” Tae continued on fearlessly, “Then I envoke the rite of Umot-Hai.”
There were several moments of silence both inside the circle and without. It was Everniha who finally broke the silence with a deep and throbbing laugh. He walked to the edge of the ring, his armor whirring and straining to contain his bulk. Although Sergeant Tae was quite tall at six and a half feet, Everniha absolutely towered over her as he allowed black drops of spittle to fall onto her face and hair.
“I accept, young one,” he said, licking his stone lips with a black tongue. “Who will be your champion?”
“Corporal Nui will represent me in the circle,” Tae responded, tucking her blonde hair back behind her ear.
Nui cursed under her breath as she stepped forward into the circle. With her enhanced hearing she could make out every snort and chuckle of disrespect, every whispered derision, every jestful wager. For the first time, she regretted having enhanced hearing.
Leitenant Tied was selected as Everniha’s champion, and the circle was cleared of all others. Tied was a grey skinned giant of a man, his arms covered with thick slabs of sinuous muscle that ended in hairy gorilla-like fists which gripped a mighty battle axe.
Fire was lit to the circle of bones, and the onlookers grew silent as they waited for the duel to begin.
“Feign madness but keep your balance,” Nui whispered to herself, reciting the 27th stratagem. Slowly she drew her saber and tossed it outside the circle.
“I am Nui and I have no need of a weapon to defeat you,” she shouted aloud. “I have slaughtered the finest warriors on the halfling world of Levan, and I will do the same to you.”
A roar of offense and laughter rippled through the crowd like a wave. Nui watched intently as her opponent loosened his stance and relaxed his muscles. Laughing himself, he tossed his axe out of the circle as well, eliciting a cheer from his comrades.
“Good, already he is already underestimating me,” Nui whispered to herself with a smile.
Actually her feint has been largely pragmatic. Nui knew she couldn’t block the blows of an opponent with so much more upper body strength. Her arms would shatter, so her saber was largely useless to her anyway. Convincing him to discard his weapon, however, was extremely advantageous to her.
Nui dropped her stance and began circling towards her opponent.
Tied wasted no words and charged at Nui, lashing out at her with a series of quick and powerful punches.
Is this guy actually trying to punch me in the face? Nui wondered as she dodged from side to side, allowing his fists to pass by her, jabbing her fingers into his forearms each time they sailed by her. Normally only amateurs would aim for the face. The jawbone is one of the strongest bones in the body, and there was no quicker way of shattering your hand then by punching someone there. The fact that he was trying to do so meant that he was confident that he had the strength to shatter her skull.
Frustrated, Tied stepped forward and punched with his full force. Nui stepped to the side and gripped his forearm tightly when his jab reached maximum extension. She then dropped her weight and used all her strength to push his arm sideways, attempting to throw him off balance, and force him to the ground, where she could then put him in an arm lock and end this fight. Nui had no love of flashy moves or needless theatrics. Secure victory in as few moves as possible. Preferably one.
However, her hopes were dashed as he kept his balance. He was simply too massive for her small frame to push or pull over. Shifting her weight, and releasing his arm, she prepared herself for the second punch from his backhand, which came quick as lightning, aimed right at her face. She took half a step backwards and allowed the massive fist to sail right in front of her, just inches from her face, so close that small droplets of sweat broke free from his hairy arm and splattered across her cheek.
Nui blocked again and grabbed his backhand, pushing herself backwards. Now alongside him, his ribs were exposed to her. She kicked at Tied with her right knee, aiming for the weaker bottom ribs, but he blocked powerfully, smashing his backhand down, hitting her knee.
Nui felt a snap inside her knee and suppressed a cry of pain. She jumped backwards, regaining her balance. A roar of cheering rose up from the spectators, and several bones were thrown out into the circle.
If he would have hit me a little harder he would have snapped it off. Nui realized.
In response to the pain, special organs in her body released stimulants which raced like fire through her bloodstream, speeding up her vision and hearing, and causing her muscles to tremble. The pain in her leg was displaced by aggression.
She charged forward, drawing out cheers from the crowd. She threw out a punch, aimed at his midsection, her hand open like a claw. Tied blocked her attack with his guard hand, and she clamped down tightly onto it. She pushed forward with her legs, and pulled with her arm clamped to his, generating as much force as she possibly could as she struck with her backhand. Tied was caught aback from the speed of her attack, and barely had time to bring up his arm to block her next blow. She used that as an opportunity to grab onto his other arm. With a tight grip on each of his forearms, she brought her legs up for a double kick into his exposed gut.
Tied realized his folly, and flicked his arms forward, breaking her grip and tossing her back away from him, blunting the force of her kick. Tied moaned as Nui used her momentum to roll herself upright. She had hoped her kick would have affected him more than it did.
The crowd roared with laughter, and tossed their runes into the wage-takers buckets as they bet on the outcome. Their laughter was deep and guttural, as if they had just crushed a powerful enemy themselves.
The only warrior not laughing was Everniha, who was watching with concern on his face.
Tied dropped his weight and tried to bring his arms up, but they would not respond. His arms weakly raised half way, and then dropped back down limply. Tied groaned as if shard of pain had entered his brain, and his mouth dropped open with a trail of saliva. He tried to clench his fists, but they barely responded, cramping up into awkward shapes.
Everniha raised his hand and shouted to his lieutenant. “Tied, you trog, you need to be more careful. She’s not blocking you, she’s getting at your pressure points.”
Nui smiled. This was her favorite kind of deception. There were areas of the body that were always vulnerable, no matter how strong you were. Overcoming strength with skill by attacking those weak points is the very foundation of martial arts.
Still, Nui wished that she had the strength to grapple with an ogre like this like her male contemporaries could. She found something very satisfying about defeating an opponent up close.
His defenses down, she charged in for the kill. She came at him sharply, and aimed an arcing high-kick at the ‘sweet spot’ just behind the ear. Tied moved to block, but his cramping muscles would not respond properly, and her kick sailed over his drooping arms. Her kick snapped his head sideways, and she felt the unmistakable sensation of bone cracking as he stumbled sideways.
Nui grabbed his arm and dug her right thumb deeply into the trigger point on the inside of his elbow, forcing his arm to bed upwards towards his face as he hollered in pain. His throat exposed, she lanced out with a spear-handed strike, hitting him directly in the jugular notch. With a sickly tear of wet tissue, she felt the man’s wind pipe collapse on itself and clamp shut, making it impossible for him to get any air.
The crowd went silent in shock as Tied doubled-over, clutching at his neck weakly with cramped and twisted fingers, unable to force air through his injured throat.
Nui plunged her index finger into his right eyeball, piercing the membrane of jelly and through the eye socket, stabbing the soft brain tissue beyond.
She bent her finger and spun it left and right, scrambling the tissues, before pulling her finger out with a pop.
Tied’s body fell to the ground, shivering and twitching. The ring of fire died out, and Nui stepped over the bones as she licked her finger off. She took her place alongside Sergeant Tae without boast or praise passing between them.
Warklord Everniha approached Tae, his body trembling with rage as he awaited her instructions.
“In order to capture, one must let loose,” Tae explained, quoting the 16th Stratagem. “Cornered prey will mount a final desperate attack. To prevent this you let the enemy believe he still has a chance for freedom. His will to fight is thus dampened by his desire to escape. When in the end the freedom is proven a falsehood the enemy's morale will be defeated and he will surrender without a fight.”


Inquisitor Zukovich had many titles. Purgatus of Diaban, Councilor to the Second Circle, Prince of Castil. The one he was most proud of, however, was his first title, given to him after finishing his Accoladitia, Savior of Questan.
He had been the one to discover the secret reign of blood by the Nal’Tret cultists ten decades ago, and began a planet-wide cleansing that ended with the death of the Cult Leader, Zukovich’s master, Inquisitor Fricani.
Zukovich’s superiors were astounded by his determination and ruthlessness, a difficult task in an organization known for zealotry. For his actions Zukovich had been elevated to the second circle, making him the youngest to achieve such an honor in a millennia at the time. Since then he had made oaths and alliances with nearly every other member of the Second Tier, and now his plans focused on discrediting his only remaining rival for Tier Leadership, the beautiful but deadly Inquisitor Janica.
Zukovich snorted as he gazed out of the nearby porthole to the dark skies outside the landing craft. The transition from the blackness of space to the dark blue of high-altitude was spoiled by the grey fog that encircled the planet. Dust and fallout from his nuclear campaign a century ago, still clinging to the air even at the exosphere.
Too bad it was all a lie, he thought to himself.
“We will be landing at Primus Hive in sixteen local minutes,” came the clear tones of his Autosavant Beatrice as she approached him through the flickering torch light.
Zukovich narrowed his eyes.
Although she fulfilled her duties to him, she always found a way of demonstrating her displeasure at conscription. By giving him the ETA in local measure, she forced him to do the conversions in his head, which she knew he despised. As she turned to walk away, her silvery robes skimming just above the rusted surface of the bulkhead, Zukovich decided that he would ensure that she never again felt the microgravity of space.
Zukovich closed the Eyrth tomb he was studying and took a moment to look out the porthole again. As the Savior of Questan, he was, of course, expected to use the private landing pad at the Royal Palace to greet the King personally, but this mission was far too important to waste time on ceremony. This was important enough, in fact, to pull him away from his preparations to eliminate Inquisitor Janica.
The local Commissaratt had reported sacrificial pyres with the markings of Nal’Tret, and Zukovich knew that he could not send anyone else in his place lest they discover the truth.
There had never been a cult of Nal’Tret. It was a fabrication of the greatest scale, and Zukovich marveled that he had been able to pull something off of that magnitude, given his lack of experience at the time. Fricani had threatened to cast Zukovich out of the order. He had underestimated Zukovich’s reaction, however, and that was his last mistake. Zukovich could still feel the trembling resistance as his dagger pierced his master’s wrinkled throat. Hiding the murder among a purge was relatively easy, but initiating the purge itself had been more troublesome. Zukovich had given inordinate sums, nearly his entire coffers, to the Derengot family, who were competing for the throne in exile at the time. He had made them outlandish promises of power and wealth, and they had greedily gobbeled up every lie as if it were the sweetest milk.
Nal’Tret was not the name of any demon in the Grimore. Zukovich had made it up. Hundreds of sacrificial pyres had been created by the damned Derengot’s, and Zukovich wondered if all that energy had simply dissipated, or if it had coalesced into a conscious entity. That there might actually now be a minor Demon named Nal’Tret was ironic beyond measure, and Zukovich chuckled out loud at the thought.
Zukovich silenced him self, cursing his slipping control in his old age. In his younger years he would never have allowed himself to display his emotions openly, and he looked around furtively to see if any of his staff had noticed.
Zukovich had managed to break through the defenses of the frozen head of his master’s Lexmechanic, and had planted the necessary evidence to implicate his master. The final step had been, of course, to execute the entire Derengot family as cult leaders, a task Zukovich took with great pleasure, then sit back and watch as the hives burned white hot with cleansing fire.
One hundred billion lives were lost that day. One hundred billion lives to ensure that Zukovich remained in the order and set him on the road to further power. He considered it a bargain at the time, and he knew that he had sacrificed far more for far less gain in the century since then.
His life’s work was like a perfectly assembled house of cards. Each card perfectly balanced against its mate. Each level perfectly settled upon the foundation of the former. It was a marvel for him to ponder. His structure of glory. His path to immortality. Only now something threatened to jostle the very foundation upon which it was built, and that demanded his attention.
Zukovich sat back and collected his thoughts, analyzing the possible scenarios for Nal’Tret pyres to be created. Scenario one: a group of malcontents had discovered historical evidence that had escaped the purge and were simply copying the rituals. He found this scenario unlikely, as the data purge had been quite thorough, and there were far more effective ways to show discontent. Scenario two: a true chaos cult had formed on the world and coincidentally used the same ceremonies. He also doubted this possibility, as demonic entities are obsessively specific on how the are to be appeased and worshipped, and no two demons have ever been known to use the same ceremonies. Then again, these are the gods of chaos, after all. Scenario three: Someone knew that there had never been a cult of Nal’Tret and was baiting Zukovich into a trap. He found this scenario the most disturbing by far. He wondered if it was merely his paranoia acting up again, or if it was a dark premonition.
Zukovich breathed deeply and pulled a needle from his sleeve. There were too many questions that needed answering. Too many possibilities for ambush. He needed his mind to be clear. He plunged the needle into his neck and sighed audibly as the powerful narcotics raced through his system.
The first step to avoid a trap was to know of its existence, and whoever was behind this, Zukovich swore that he would make them pay for threatening his perfect house of cards.

Okay, the Venerable Dreadnaught is all painted and assembled. Big Kudos to my buddy titan136 for his awesome paint job on the Dread.

LA Games Day August 23rd is when I'll be taking these ladies to a tournament for the first time, so hopefully I can get everything done by then. Still got a bunch of ladies in power armor that need to be finished before then.

As always, click on a thumbnail to see a larger pic.

Enjoy

'Powered' armour is the reason they have the backpacks. Built in servos are assisting a lot of the movement for the wearer, so I don't think the extra frontal weight would really be a problem. The power plant would be as heavy as hell anyway, probably the biggest reason most people couldn't move in it. Frankly I think sisters should be S4, but perhaps theirs is a simpler design that works without the whole black carapace crap...

Also, GW guns are slightly larger scale than the people who are carrying them. Who is to say what is and isn't a gun?

Have to disagree with brado... the pigtails are the best damn thing in the army. Heh.

Doctor Thunder wrote:Okay, the Venerable Dreadnaught is all painted and assembled. Big Kudos to my buddy titan136 for his awesome paint job on the Dread.

LA Games Day August 23rd is when I'll be taking these ladies to a tournament for the first time, so hopefully I can get everything done by then. Still got a bunch of ladies in power armor that need to be finished before then.

As always, click on a thumbnail to see a larger pic.

Enjoy

This is amazing! I love this model so much! I also wish you luck at Games Day L.A. hope the ladies do some big damage to all those nay sayers.

Typeline wrote:

This is amazing! I love this model so much! I also wish you luck at Games Day L.A. hope the ladies do some big damage to all those nay sayers.

Thanks Typeline. I was debating about whether or not I should go, since GWUS changed the eligibility rules between when I started this army and now, making me basically ineligible for anything, so I decided that my goal instead will be to take some really good digital pictures and making an excellent battle report.

Doctor Thunder wrote:

Bastirous666 wrote:i just have to ask, why make their breast so damn big? i know games workshop models are all out of proportion and such but still that look more like those girlies are stuffing their bras with a meltabomb or two.

I don't think they are big. If you look at my basic terminator and power armor marines, which comprise 99% of the models, the chest armor, which is stylized, not form fitting, is pretty subtle.

The only one that is big was the tutorial marine, which was just a tutorial.

Those look fine. They are just stylized armor (EDIT I think someone else is pointing that out later). Frankly on the table top I don't think you'd notice appreciably unless it was pointed out.

EDIT: Love the bike and the dreadnought conversion.

i loove these models. keep up the great work

i like it, great concept, great models, and seems to really get to the fluff nutters lol, 10 / 10

ignore what he says, its not his army, he hasnt worked hard to make it.

GJ and keep up the good work.

Got a big update for you guys today. We’re just days away from the Los Angeles Games Day, and there are just a few models left to go. This is crunch time, let’s just pray nothing goes wrong. I’ll be posting up full army pics in a couple of days. I think you guys are going to like the objective markers for the army.

Here are some squad shots amongst terrain, including the nearly-done scouts.
Just click on a thumbnail to see a larger pic.



Here are the individual models. The flash washed out some of their faces, but they are otherwise good pics.
Keep an eye out for a lot of subtle kanji work done on the robes and armor.
Just click on a thumbnail to see a larger pic.

Okay, folks, you can stick a fork in this army because this army is done and ready for battle! This is my final update for this thread.

With no time to spare, either. I leave for the GD in just a couple of days. I have mixed feelings about going to the LA GD because Games Workshop has changed the eligibility rules this year, so that I'm basically ineligible for any awards, because I did not paint it all myself. Since I would have been eligible when I started this army, I can't help but feel somewhat betrayed.

So, what I have decided to do is take a lot of pictures and make a really good battle report for the Games Day, so that will be my objective this weekend. The Battle Report will be in it's own thread, so keep an eye out.

As for this thread, I think I'm going to take a break for a while and get some games in. I'm tired of getting hate emails from people who won't just leave me alone to enjoy my hobby in peace.

When I finish some more chapters of the novel, I'll post it along with the preceding chapters in it's own thread in the appropriate forum.

I have a preliminary copy of the Black Widows Codex that I'll be taking along to the Games DAy Tournament. Once I get back from Games Day I'll have a lot of good pics and we will make a final version and post it in its own thread for you guys to see.







Enjoy.

the army has come along great, GL in the GD, i was ment to be entering, but never got around to it due to work getting in the way.
keep up the good work.

Your scouts give me a great idea for a female guard army.... must think this thru first.

Greatjob and good hunting





Twister....

News!

gratz doc

I was thinking, if you wanted to get stupid behind in every other aspect of your life, these would make a good candidate for "biggerization". Granted, they no longer would be normal human girl size, but the power armor would look a little less manly with longer, leaner proportions.

Just a thought. These are definitely cool enough as is.

Boobie marinez FTW!

Seriously, congrats on finishing; neat idea!

The Steve Sumner props shocked me because they hate these models over on SA. Boobie Marinezzz Hurrrr!!!111

Mammory glands noted to be unusually large for frame (89th percentile for standard human female).

The subject’s brain’s pleasure center is approximately 38% larger then in found in standard human females

^ these 2 lines in your fluff really say alot about why your doing the project

those are really cool the webs look great

congrats man, and I love the models btw.

wow

From the SA article:

"He hand-sculpted more than 100 boobs for every miniature in his army."

I don't see any of the models with 100 boobs. I believe I've seen an ancient fertility idol like that. Where's the 100-boobed Space marine?