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So, many agree that the Contemptor dreadnought is one of the coolest models out there. I personally certainly agree with that. The great thing is, Chaos get to use them too! *squee*
But I'm a slaanesh player. I've seen many Khorne ones, and nurgle conversions are easy in concept (add boils, rust, slime, etc). However, short of attaching a sonic blaster I have no ideas on how to convert it to look more slaaneshi!
So I go to the imaginative people of dakka. Please, help! I'll even post pictures when I' done. Any ideas would be really helpful. Thanks.

Great Ideas, everyone! I didn't expect any responses, I've heard slaanesh is a hard one to convert for, but Wow!

Here's what I'm thinking so far.

1. The relic contemptor body, with additional chaos trim and slaanesh icons.

2. The fingers of the close combat claw replaced with the tendrils from the Dark eldar Cronos parasite engine.

3. The blank faceplate from the Cronos swapped with the contemptor head (the sleek, smooth, porcelain faceplate seems quite slaanesh-i to me.

4. A large banner mounted on his back, made from flayed skin, depicting Fulgrim or some other EC hero.

5. Gemstones! GEMSTONES EVERYWHERE!

6. The trophy racks from the Cronos attached to its bodykit.

7. Sonic blaster arm.

8. Alternating patches of black. purple, and gold.

What do you guys think of these ideas?



Automatically Appended Next Post:
Can anyone tell me how the sonic blaster from the forge world sonic dreadnought would size up mounted on the contemptor's shoulder? Would it be roughly proportional?

That's a very original idea, Xendarc. That would've never occured to me.

I was thinking using the forge world sonic blaster arm, but apparently it doesn't size up proportionally (says TheAngrySquig).


Automatically Appended Next Post:


This is a little mockup I came up with. Please ignore obvious Blood Angel icons - those will not appear on the actual model.

I will order the parts immediately! Darn, I promised WIP pics didn't I...

Any creative base ideas?

Perhaps a totem string of lifeless sprit stones around his next? Maybe a flayed eldar skin stretched over the Neck plate? (This bit that says Aphael in the Mockup image).

Me gusta!

Important question - are the talo tentacles sized properly in the mockup, or are they bigger or smaller? The tentacles, not the trophy racks - I've already been told that they're too big.

A) Vacation, squiggy, me old comrade.
B) Good.

I'm ordering the parts this week, and I'm going away next week.
Thus progress should begin in two weeks time.

infoleather - Um..what? I'm confused by your grammar.

Also, ordered the parts today!

My muse, poda_t? I don't quite understand what you mean.
And I do indeed play an emperor's children army.
Dakkadood - maybe...

Ahhh I see. I clicked the link, I just didn't scroll down far enough.

It's coming together, lads - even better, it looks a lot like the mockup!

Here's the body so far. Its a bit blurry, so here's the lowdown: it's a contemptor relic, with a talos faceplate and talos arm guard covering the aquila. Chaos smokestacks cover the pipes on his back vent.

His naughty arm, which is earning him the nickname "The ConTRAPtor Dreadnought". The tentacles are from the talos, cut down and made to fit into the close combat arm's finger holes and gun housing.
The legion icon of the Emperor's Children is displayed on his shoulder, made using a Sanguinary guard wing and the studded hand from the Talos.

His sonic blaster arm. I know, very blurry. However, it scales up perfectly with the contemptor model.

Here's the guy's rubble base. Not much to say, just an IG dozer blade, a razorback roofing plate, and a chaos dozer blade.

Indeed it does!

I felt the inspiration to write some fluff about the man himself:


Shrellox thundered across the wraithbone bridge, great cracks chiseling themselves into the ceramic flooring where his armored boots descended in heavy, blundering impacts. His blastmaster unleashed a chorus of cacophonous bass notes, blowing away the xenos warriors like frail insects in a strong breeze. Most of the warriors, their footings lost, toppled over the side of the gemstone-decorated bridge, and Shrellox’s viewfinder captured in gory detail the image of one of the xenos warriors being impaled upon the alabaster minaret of one of the craftworld’s towers. He released another dirge, his high-definition photoreceptors scanning the spirit stones of the enemy soldiers as the warbling waves of sound caused minuscule fractures to spiderweb across the surfaces of the precious crystals, their luster seemingly deeming in the cold blue light of the craftworld’s glow-globes. One of his retinue, a marine clad in the purple and gold finery of his pre-heresy fatigues was cut down by a withering hail of monomolecular shuriken rounds, which sliced deep into the ribbed cabling and organic tissues of the legionnaire’s hideously mutated armor but merely scratched the surface of Shrellox’s thick ceramite breastplate.

Shrellox’s momentum declined as holographic performance diagnostics flashed up on his pickled retinas, warning him that some obstruction on his right heel was endangering his course. He angled his metal hull downwards and peered through the tinted glass faceplate down at the afflicted mechanism. The gory remains of the legionnaire clung to his sole, bones scraping across the wraithbone bridge’s surface. While the issue was an aesthetic one rather than of tactical import, Shrellox was still pained. Triggering a series of mental commands, Shrellox activated his corrupted dreadnought body’s beautification system. The exquisitely sculpted icon of the Emperors Children legion, a wonderfully wrought golden claw on the end of a vulture’s wing began to flex its talon fingers. Tiny golden studs set into the claw’s palm started to vibrate. Intricate spider-like legs extended from their fat, round bodies. The nano-servitors scuttled across his ceramite armor and similar micro-machines crawled from rivets in the golden trim of his body. Some of the nano-servitors tended to chips and holes punched into his plating by gunfire and alien blades. These machines spewed carefully measured amounts of dyed sealant into the holes, the purple sealant perfectly matching his armor and covering their blemishes entirely. As for the charnel spectacle defiling his heel, acids were released in squirting jets from the underbellies of scores of the golden spiders, dissolving the flesh, blood and gristle from the bones. Without the gore acting as an adhesive, the neat skeletal frame of the chaos marine relinquished its grip on Shrellox’s boot and clattered to the floor.

Shrellox grumbled to himself as he resumed his tirade of sonic attacks, putting down a heavy wave of undulating music in defense against a new wave of eldar attackers. While his sonic cannon pumped pyrotechnical blasts of noise into the air, he felt a great feeling of shame overcome him. He was not the best swordsman of the legion, nor did he possess the most accurate aim. The Primarch extolled the ideals of perfection in all aspects of war, and in life he knew he had never quite reached the expectations of his lord. He problem was not so much a lack of skill, but an all-consuming narcissistic neuroticism that leant heavily towards the negative aspects of the perfectionist, emotionally masochistic self-torment that the soldiers of the Emperor’s Children subjected themselves to. His personal obsession was one of cleanliness – he prided himself on the ostentations showmanship and decoration of his armor. It was this obsession that caused his death. He had been scraping the brains of a loyalist defector from his shoulder greave when the swift slash of a power sword had rent his guts from his side.

Shrellox knew all too well that he did not deserve the iron frame of an immortal dreadnought. His fellows kept him not alive out of respect, or a tactical necessity, but as a cruel joke. He had heard tales from other legions of their dreadnoughts becoming decrepit, senile and even dangerous in their millennia-old age. He could feel the same thing happening to him. His neuroticism was become more frantic than it ever had been in life, to the degree where he was no longer content with having his armor hosed down after a battle’s end but had in fact requested that the legion’s techmarines install a battle-ready beautification system in his dreadnught body. Shrellox had suspicions that this was not just him getting old. He once had had his shell examined, and the techmarines had extracted faulty, rusted and recycled components that they claimed were intended for dreadnoughts that were many models more primitive than he. Shrellox held no doubts as to the reason for this mechanical error. Just like his brethren to deliberately accelerate his madness! That’s why they always sent him into the fray, where his shell was certain to be defiled with blood within seconds!
And why should they?! Didn’t they realize he was the most faithful to the dark prince, the most deserving of reward! Other gods might mutate their followers beyond recognition, drive them insane from killing, or pump them full of pusses! Slaanesh ensured his legion’s divine beauty! Surely his acknowledgement of hygiene was simply a facet of this appreciation for beauty?! He deserved this body! It was he, Shrellox, who was the most devout, the most beautiful, the most blessed by the dark prince!

Shrellox released a deafening blast of sound. The shockwave threw all of the approaching warriors off of the bridge, save one. A wild-eyed youth, a raven headed female clad in tight-fitting ceramic plate bearing a long, crystalline rapier stepped forward. She twirled the blade and pointed the tip at his heart – a challenge. Cracked lips splitting into a smile behind his faceless mask. Usually he preferred the ballistic approach, due to its clean, non-confrontational attitude. This time, however, his cleansing servitors were still active. He could indulge himself, for once. His other arms flexed its fingers. The six long, mechanized tendrils looked sickeningly suggestive, flensing disturbingly. They squirmed as lengths of pinkish electricity flashed along their barbed edges. The eldar maiden stepped forward, letting out a war cry as she charged against the mechanized behemoth.
The battle was over before it even begun. Shrellox’s sinuous tentacles wrapped around the maiden’s torso and constricted, cracking her armor in dozens of places. Milky white flesh shone through, and Shrellox administered a jolt of electricity to his tendrils’ barbed tips. For a split second a look of ecstatic joy alighted on the eldar’s face. It was a look of repressed pleasure, of things she was bred to abhor but secretly longed for. The look ended abruptly when Shrellox crushed her spine. A pang of frustration flashed through his augmented brain as gore spat over his twisted gauntlet, but the nano-servitors swiftly scuttled over his claw and began healing the aesthetic damage. Shrellox watched the flesh around the banshee’s skull dissolve into paste, and relief alighted in his heart when her dried bones fell from his sparkling arm, clattering to the floor of the shining wraithbone bridge.

I hope not.