Captain's Log... The First Legion...

I like calling my marines The First Legion better then any other name I have come up with and in no small part due to the fact that I don't paint them like typical Dark Angels. In fact the only green on them is an emerald green (emerald ilse) from a craft paint line. In the Hours Heresy novels the Lion is described as having an emerld green cloak... so I'm good!

Captain's Log... A personal rant...

It's May 15th and I'm away from home. I ain't happy about it but it happens. I'll be working today for a bit and getting ready for the week ahead filled with travel and work.
It's my birthday... the corner just turned 'ancient'... err... rather turned more ancient... the next stage will be 'dusty'...

I'll be in some corner of Nashville,

CK

Captain's Log... Archives... Evacuation...

Steven’s hands worked like lighting, flashing from wound to wound. His mind streamed out its consciousness, forcing his body to respond faster than normal. The injured brother’s respiration was rapid and one of his hearts had failed altogether. Larraman cells in the blood were staunching the open wounds but some were too severe to completely seal. The worst injuries wept like they were ready to break open at any moment. Already his brother had gone into stasis to conserve precious energy and bodily resources. He was dying but his conscious mind didn’t know it.

Captain's Log... Archives... The First Winter

It wasn’t easy being alone after Chaplain Azariah died. I needed someone to share my thoughts and experiences of what I was going through. Every day I found myself going out to my parent’s grave and back to the mausoleum of the “Deliverance” where Chaplain Azariah and the others rested. They were my family and I needed their counsel even if it was silent. Their mere presence made me feel better and gave me a purpose.

Captain's Log... Archives... Initiated...

   Looking at the last crypt in the mausoleum, Interrogator-Chaplain Tenebras silently noted it was unmarked unlike the others. Looking back down the row of crypts in comparison, he noticed a small data pad he had not seen before with the equipment of the late Chaplain Azariah.

Captain's Log... Archives... Found...

   The rain poured from the sky, drenching Kellen’s clothes and equipment. Undergrowth and roots made for a treacherous escape into the hills for every stride had the chance of sending him sprawling. It was a daunting task for anyone, even a well trained twelve year old boy. The caves where he could elude the beasts long enough to get back to the Deliverance were his only chance. Silently he did thank the Emperor for the downpour that masked his running through the undergrowth and moved as fast as he could mindful of his steps.

Captain's Log... Archives... Escape...

The control room was deserted except for Techmarine Maeson continuing to monitor the active battle vox nets and the fortresses still functioning monitors. Automated gun emplacements roared outside while the populace of Hellican II departed the Tyranid infestation. Minutes were left thousands of survivors remained to board transports to the awaiting fleet. Once the evacuation was complete the exterminatus would begin and consume the planet of all life, Imperial or otherwise, that was left behind.

Captain's Log... Archives... Orphaned...

The smoke and steam from the ancient rail transport billowed above and hissed onto the crowd as it pulled in front of the loading platform. Only a few days were left until the last of the transports evacuated the majority of the population. Hundreds of advanced transports lay untouched as their internal controls failed to function. The Machine spirits had been driven from them by the wake of psychic interference preceding the Tyranids.

As the snake like machine rolled to a stop the crowd pushed themselves forward against the barriers occupied by Imperial Guardsmen tasked with crowd control. Some people weren’t going to make it today. Some weren’t going to make it ever. Hellicus II was living up to its name now that the Tyranids had arrived. Hell had arrived in living form.

Captain's Log... Good Words...

I have learned that good words should always be repeated. I won't copy and paste or add any heavy handed dribble to some good words.

Sandwyrm doesn't know me, isn't affiliated with me, nor are we linked to each other. I just happen to be some 'guy' on the internet that thinks he wrote an exceptional article. Klick the link provided and read his words.

I'll be in some other corner... watching LotR and painting...

CK

The Back 40K




(Dune was great wasn't it!)

Captain's Log... The Meat-Ginder...

When I get the chance to game I try to get out regardless of where my models status are concerning painting. I like to play with painted figures, will never win any awards with them, but I try. I put an effort into slapping some paint onto my guys and this is really what the beigning of this article is about tonight more then a battle report.