All right. I'm happy to announce that the army, minus one special model you'll hear about later, is fully assembled, and painting will commense right away.
I left the characters for last, a trick I learned a while back from a wise old shaman, who pointed out to me, in between paragraphs of innane babble, that by the end of a given project, a hobbiest is at the peak of his hobby skill for that particular army, and so it's best to do the characters last after getting all the practice on the basic troopers.
After the pictures, I'll post the Valkyries new and improved fluff, for people who want to know a little more about this secretive force of amazon warriors.
First up we have Captain Kalia. By far the model I'm most pleased with, which is probably why I made her the captain. Her sword was taken from Sigilet, Emperor's Champion of the Excelikas Crusade, whom she slew and castrated before the walls of the chapter keep on the remote planet of Hyan. Her ranged weapon is one of an unusual pair of relics uncovered in the vaults of Mydas Primus. It can project a protective field around the wearer, as well as unleash a wave of energy that exerts tremendous pressure on the target, reducing it to a liquid-like pulp.
The guantlet mount of her ranged weapon keeps her left hand free so that she can weild the sword with both hands.
Lieutenant Caren weilds an unusual neural-induction weapon in the form of a whip that completely overloads the target's central nervous system. A long-time student of interrogation techniques, Caren uses the whip to capture live specimins to be drained of information at a later date
Leiutenant Reika is known for her loud and arrogant demeanor. Strong-willed and quick to bore, she was demoted from Captain after the failed Jurat Siege. She wasted so much time consorting with one of the young handsome delegates that came to negotiate the surrender that enemy reinforcemetns were allowed time to arrive in system, and the siege had to be abandoned and the city cleansed with viral-warefare.
Leiutenant Sora is sharp-tongued and quick-witted, known for her excellent battlefield intuition. Her ability to quickly alter existing battle plans has won many battles that may have otherwise turned sour.
Corporal Ateoi distinguished herself during the Asma Campaign, where she lead a series of raids that successfully redirected an Ork Rok fleet directly into the path of Coronas, a demon world on the edge of the Maelstrom, allowing the Valkyries to successfully recover the sphere of Obitus while the chaos forces were engaged with the Ork flotilla. She is regarded by Kalia to be the most perfect example of Valkyrie fighting doctrine.
Inamo is elder sister to Kalia, and wears the second of the two relics recovered from Mydas. She is the current Matriarch to the Valkyries, although her age has forced her to accept a largely advisory role in recent years, only rarely taking to the field of battle. She is keeper of their epic stories and lore, and young recruits spend much time under her tutalige in-between campaigns.
Here's the updated fluff:
“Long ago, before the Badab Uprising, our worlds in the Eden’s Belt were lush and green,” Lieutenant Caren shouted to the kneeling recruits as she strode past them. “Our tribes were proud and strong.”
She paused for effect, placing one hand on her hip, the morning sun glistening off the sleek and lithe armored suit she wore. “Marines on both sides deployed atomics and virals without any thought, and now our people crawl in the dust on their bellies.”
Caren stepped back and saluted as Captain Kalia stepped forward. Though her hair was accented with strands of grey, and her skin was weathered from the suns of a hundred worlds, her eyes shone bright like daggers. “The sons of The Emperor destroy without thought and without accountability. Through the grace of the Omnissiah, we are sent to account for their sins, avenge the suffering of our people, and make our worlds green again.”
Kalia stepped aside, revealing in the distance several chained Pterra-Raptors, and a single warrior in scoured power armor, his hands and feet bound.
“With every marine you kill, life is breathed into our homelands,” Kalia shouted.
With a roar like lions, the recruits leapt to their feet and ran towards their targets. Caren and Kalia watched intently as the chains on the beasts and marine broke free. The mass of bodies collided, knives and teeth attacking in a swirl of rage and instinct. One of the recruits singled out a pair of two Raptors, throwing her dagger into the thigh of one of them. When its companion caught the scent of blood, it went into a frenzy and leapt upon its injured kin, the two animals tearing each other to pieces.
“That one,” Captain Kalia said, pointing her out, “Mark her for officer training.”
“But she bends the rules of the trial,” Caren questioned.
“Stop thinking like a man,” Kalia rebuked, spitting. “Possessing strength is incidental. What is important is to control strength. See how she turned her enemies against one another, defeating both with a single throw? One who controls the strength of others does not create enemies with victory, nor suffer losses with defeat.”
“Yes, Madam Captain.”
“Rember,” Kalia continued, “that what men call honor is an obstacle to victory. Do not attack an enemy when he is prepared. Attack when he is wounded, sick, and unconscious.”
One of the Raptors leapt on top of a recruit, its metallic talons piercing the armored chestplate of her armor and tearing open her torso in a spray of thick black blood. The moment her hearts stopped beating, the small device implanted in the base of her skull detonated, shredding her brain.
Watching this, Kalia involuntarily tilted her head to one side, feeling the weight of her own implant at the base of her skull. The implant kept their secrets safe, for the Inquisition had ways of retrieving data even from a long-deceased brain. It also served as a reminder that their master could detonate the devices at any time.
Enraged by the loss of their sister, the other recruits drew closer together without command, shielding the body as it was pulled away from the combat, for none that fall were ever to be left behind.
The last of the Raptors fell, a dagger deftly shoved into the roof of it’s mouth and out the top of its head, and the remaining recruits fell upon the marine, screaming and stabbing his body long after he stopped moving, then forcing open his armor and tearing apart his flesh with their armored hands, tossing his entrails about like pieces of confetti.
“Once they have tasted marine blood, they can think of nothing else,” Kalia commented as she watched. “It was the same with me when I first passed the trial.”
Caren took out a data-slate and began giving instructions to the descending dropships. “Hate is a source of strength. An endless well which can be drawn upon whenever needed.”
Captain Kalia’s eyes narrowed and her lips pursed disapprovingly. “By the time our recruits are brought to us, their surgical transformation has already been completed. All of them reporting the same background. All of them screened to insure a complete lack of psychic intuition.”
“The Fabricator General insures the purity of our order,” Caren commented as she worked.
“And yet most Astartes deploy Psykers in their ranks, and oversee the implantation of new recruits themselves.”
“If our geneseed was like theirs, we would share in their sins,” Caren responded, putting her slate away.
“So we are told,” Kalia said sternly.
The air around them became a gale as the dropship touched down. Dozens of mechanical servitors walked down the descending ramps. In their hands they carried the glowing energy cores that would power the weapons of the new initiates.
“How safe do you suppose those cores are?” Kalia asked as she watched the servitors insert the cores into the various weapons.
“The Fabricator General assures us they are perfectly safe,” Caren stated.
“And yet male Astartes live many times longer then we do,” Kalia observed.
“A quirk of our geneseed,” Caren mentioned as she walked up to meet the remaining recruits, their eyes now glazed over with hate and euphoria.
“So we are told,” Kalia said to herself.
Solemnly, Leiutenant Caren gave each of the initiates their beam rifles, and instructed them on the maintenance and use of the weapons. Each squad’s weapons were hand-crafted by a single master-artificer, the task consuming the majority of his lifespan. Properly maintained, they could be used for years without any need for reloading or re-supply, allowing them to engage their enemies in ammunition-guzzling firefights that would leave their foes completely spent before the final attack. It was the Valkyries preferred method.
“Tonight you will sit at the warrior’s table and drink our wine as equals,” Caren stated as the former recruits cheered.
As Caren completed the ceremony, Kalia found herself standing over the desecrated remains of the marine. As her eyes focused on a small patch of yellow paint on the armor, her mind flashed and images rushed past her like a storm. She found herself standing on the twisted fleshy deck of a corrupted Battle-barge. Before her, a tall warrior knelt weeping over the broken body of The Emperor, her tears falling onto the ruined flesh of his face. At the other end of the room, her twin lay dead, arms wrapped around the ashy remains of Horus. A giant in burning yellow amour stepped forward, his handsome face twisted into a scowl of pure hatred as he drew his sword and plunged it into the woman’s back as she wept over The Emperor.
The images blew around like a sand sculpture caught in the wind, and Kalia found herself standing in the entrance of a great vault in the mouth of a cave. Outside the cave, she saw the flash of atomics as cities came apart, the screams of millions swallowed up in the heat. The noble voice of a towering, blue armored warrior filled the air.
“There will be no place for your kind in my empire.”
Kalia watched as an injured female warrior dragged herself into the vault, her body secreting a protective cocoon around itself as the doors slammed shut. Then, a wave of fire washed over Kalia, and the only thing she could see was the Cog and Skull symbol on the vault door as the images faded around her and she found herself once again standing over the body of the dead marine.
I’m starting to have the visions during the day as well, Kalia thought, I don’t have much time left.
Caren ran up alongside her and saluted. “We can leave whenever you are ready, Madam Captain.”
“Have you ever been to the Eden Belt since you joined the Valkyries? Kalia asked distantly.
“No, Madam, none of us have.”
“What would we find there if we did?” Kalia asked herself.
Caren nodded, believing she understood what her Captain meant. “We have become that which we hate, but perhaps our sacrifice will be enough to cleanse us. The Ecclesiarchy believes that The Emperor can cleanse sins away.”
“The Emperor hates us,” Kalia said sharply. “That much is clear. And the Omnissiah is incapable of love. We are only a tool in his hands.”
“To be a tool is a greatest of honors,” Caren said solemnly.
“Indeed. Nevertheless, The Emperor is still our father, and so we must free him from his prison.”
Caren accepted this and turned on one heel towards the dropship.
“Wait,” Kalia bade, “If you are to succeed me, you deserve to know more. Our master tells me the Astronomicon is failing.”
“What?”
“Every year the choir’s requirements grow greater, and the range weaker. By the end of the century there will be no warp travel to the outer districts. The Emperor can no longer shape the beacon.”
“He was never meant to sit on the Golden Throne,” Caren stated, “once he is freed from it he can be reborn into a new body and lead the Imperium once again. He would have been reborn long ago, but Guillman wanted the throne for himself, so he bound The Emperor to his dying body and took control.”
“So we are told,” Kalia responded softly.
Lieutenant Caren grew visibly frustrated and put her hands on her hips.
“Just what are you implying, Captain? Guillman and Dorn destroyed two loyal legions when they threatened to expose their plans to imprison The Emperor, and then had the records completely destroyed to hide their sin. If that were not true, then where does our geneseed come from? Who could make such a thing?”
“Who, indeed.” Kalia said coolly as she bought her hand up to her temple. Her eyes scanned back and forth between closed lids for a moment, then she looked up.
“Our master calls. We move out for the Verte System,” Kalia said as she spun around and began walking towards the dropship.
Caren brushed a strand of hair away from her youthful face. “Why do you always refer to him as ‘our master,’ instead of ‘The Fabricator General of Mars?’” she complained as she followed her Captain.
