The Arrival of the Archdaemon

For my birthday this year I was bought the archdaemon of Nurgle. I green-stuffed a couple of extra horns onto him, as both me and my pal Jack picked ours up at the same time.

He was a joy to paint and now all I need to do is base him before my birthday event on the 17th of the month. The fluff for him is below. 

The Arrival of an Archdaemon

"To me, to my house, you shall all come after your deaths,” spoke the gutteral phlegm-filled whisper on the wind.

Having seized the Charadon Sector with the help of the Deathguard and the greenskins, the Aureus held their territory. Enough sacrifice had been made in the name of Nurgle to win the favour of the Plague Lord.

The forgotten chapter had lost many great warriors on all fronts. Ancients that had served them for thousands of years. But now with the support of the immortal, ancient and twisted beings, hopefully the Jackals would be able to advance even further. Over the coming months the opposition had been intense and the astartes had suffered even greater internal division. Jostien and Asger had started to aid the cause of the greater good against Tyranid invasion, while the renegade forces, under the lead of Fenerus, struck at any force within reach, proving their might and prowess.

Too many Lords sought to prove themselves by going off on their own, dividing the chapter further. Honour dictated that not one would turn their blade on the other, although the old scripture also encouraged warriors to prove themselves through actions not words.

Some fought to restore the good name of their Chapter among the people, while the damned fought for vengeance and the annihilation of the Imperium of man. Each warrior had a following of both sworn brothers and allies new.

Now the Wolf Mother’s plans were coming to fruition. Rognvaldr Pa Veg and Med Leen had guided the Aureus in finding allies and bringing worlds to decay. In doing so, the bargain had been completed and in two months Donn Hel would be released from his eternal prison. Unlike the rest of his kin, Donn was selfish and nihilistic in his approach. Many ancient societies had names for him Donn, The Eater of Men, The Fly-Blown Reaper, Hel and many more. He was a god of death in the eyes of many past. He fed on their souls and revelled in their worship, spouting hate, spreading decay and ending the lives of millions wherever he went.

Twisted by Tzeench a millennia ago, Donn Hel is far from what a Great Unclean One represents but also possesses a much darker lust and power. After having slain and digested hundreds of his own kin within the warp, Nurgle banished him to his eternal prison. Here he has waited and plotted for fifty-thousand years, longing to taste the flesh of his own kind once again. Another rejected daemon fit for the service of the Wolf Mother, a believer of nothing who only wants to see the universe crumble into darkness.

A Mighty Victory

A few weekends ago Jamie, Mia and Me went to the Dice Saloon in Brighton. It is one of our favourite venues despite being quite a trek away from where we all live. While we were there we played one large game, followed by a smaller game. It was the first time seeing a Tiger Shark on the field and the potential of that beast is certainly scary.

Once the games were done we relaxed with some food, drinks and a handful of board games. Below is the fluff from the games.

With trepidation the greater daemon had launched his assault on the heart of the Pax’nera’s home world. The avian ancient knew that this was the path he must take despite the inevitable defeat. Not one but two of the tiger sharks were above them. The first fell to the blast of the macro-ectoplasmic cannon and then the second, but not before the Mother’s Cannon had been crippled. Leaking phosphorus neon liquid it sizzled and spat, until it internally ruptured and split under the fire of the enemy. The twisted beast had taken many months to build and it’s loss would not be taken lightly among the renegade Astartes. På Veg craned around to see the loathing emitting from Vlees. His sockets brimming with internal fluids as he swung his axe in the air, gesticulating for his deredeos to take down the opposing forces. The twin-headed daemon Lord hoped this grinding stalemate would be enough to draw the t’au’s attention from the Charadon sector. He could not foretell their fate, but he knew in time the forces here would be defeated and only Vlees and the horrors under his command would escape.

* * *

Crashing into the landscape below, Cleaver the Choppa was full of confidence. Despite the overwhelming odds that he knew that his forces were about to face, he showed no hesitation. Beneath his helmet his face was twisted with glee. The Lord knew at this very moment a heavy bombardment and assault was taking place on the Pax’nera’s home world. A force not large enough to take the planet but strong enough to be a distraction. No hero’s faced them today. Only a force of nameless officers and a solitary commander greeted them. He recognised the landing craft of the Bay’be Sept’s Ethereal. She had pursued them at a distance and had clearly warned of the incoming threat. Cleaver cared not. He welcomed the challenge. Diving out of his rhino as it caught fire, the crazed Lord cleaved his way into the transport craft before him. Rushing forward his entourage shot and hacked into the breacher team. As the blue bodies fell, the Pax’nera firing line took aim. The six berserkers and their champion all fell to the gunfire and the explosion of the nearby transport tore their corpses apart. Cleaver in his fury had failed to spot the concealed payload of explosives. As his axe impacted into its core, armour, flesh and bone were torn from his frame. Out of the machine span a whirlpool of flame and fire that tore at everything around it. T’au and heretic burnt alike in the supernova that was born from the wreck. Rising from the ash, parts of his skull and rib cage exposed, Choppa pressed on. The defiler given to him by the Deathguard, ate, burnt and shot its way through the main body of the t’au, while the bloat drone tore across the landscape, burning everything in it’s wake. Hooking up to the central air filtration system the drone emptied its fetid fluids and life force into the air filters and pump system. Plaguebearers shambled and threw themselves off of the railings and into the water tanks below. Alarms sounded. Within days this section of the planet would be covered in plague and disease. He hoped it would be enough to claim at least a quarter of the planets population. Perhaps then the Plague Lord would release the arch-daemon from his eternal prison, so that the Aureus could get the answers that they needed. Drinking from the soiled water, Cleaver felt the disease and corruption eat into his injuries. Rage and knowledge were his, he hoped this would bring him the protection that the Plague Father has promised him. Protection that had allowed his rival Gurth to survive such crippling defeats.