Lord of Khorne: Cutter the Choppa'

After my victory with a proxy Chaos Lord (As I forgot my actual Lord) I decided to make a Lord of Khorne.

I took a primaris body and two ork arms as well as a few chaos bits and made Cutter the Choppa into an actual model. Suitably huge when compared to a standard old marine.

But what is a Khorne Lord without skulls? I hear you say. Well I thought similar, so I decided to give him twenty skulls on his person and seven on his base. The base is a 40mm base which is too big but I think he justifies it.

The same day I painted him and then he was ready for battle.

Last week the might of Cutter the Choppa, clashed with Jamie's Pax'nera T'au Sept.  It was a brutal and brief game. I claimed first turn. Charged from the rhino and ate into the t'au gun line. The retaliation was bloody but it didn't stop my Lord cleaving through the blue-skinned bodies until he claimed victory.

A Servant's Wrath

Removing his helmet their Lord revealed his scarred and pitted visage. Twisted leathery flesh, fused with bone and metal. Like his other warriors, he bore the fresh wounds of self mutilation. Blood poured from his large gnarled hands and wrists into the numerous orifices in his face. His dark eyes stared with glee out into the battlefield before them. Beyond the haze of gore he could see the Pax’nera landing in the ruins opposite starting their advance. Cutter the Choppa clambered into his rhino and called his berserkers forward. Klash began to shiver and chatter as Mauler howled with anticipation. All at once they began the berserkgang. First waves of cold hit them, their joints seizing as they uncontrollably shivered. Moans and roars erupted as their flesh bulged in deep reds and purples. Fever soon bled into rage, chainswords revved into action as the rhino’s hatch was released. Crashing into the t’au battle line the renegade berserkers took the first volley of fire. Bodies riddled with mortal injury they continued to fight on. Amongst his dying warriors Cleaver entered the fray. His huge axe in hand he cut three t’au in half with one blow narrowly missing a fourth. He cared not for his brothers. As six fell down dead the remaining two turned to run. In one swift motion the Chaos Lord cleaved down his own as they attempted to flee, the mighty choppa severing armour, flesh and bone. He was not surprised their fate had been foretold. A precognition had been implanted into his head by På Veg prior to their landing. The mighty greater daemons eyes penetrating his corrupted soul and had foretold his success. Med Leen’s visions had been more grave. They had prophesied his warriors foul fate and the blind rage as he cleaved them down. He knew he would turn from this battle, let the enemy flee, wipe out the tiny horrors in anger at their masters predictions. Recalling the malevolent jeering made his rage boil over. Turning from the enemy he directed his rage towards the warp spawn. Cleaver the Choppa was no ones puppet!

The horror propelled itself onward sullen, chortling and whining. Tears of rage filled its diminutive contorted face. Surrounding him were the six remaining little daemons, laughing and cackling as they simmered and popped. They all knew that they would soon return to their master. Two of the horrors would flee, hide and burn up to nothing, while their blue leader and four other critters would be decimated by the mighty ork weapon. Clambering around the last remaining drones they managed to secure themselves on one and pull it to the ground. Weeping and stamping in a volatile rage, the radiant blue leader slammed his ever-changing form into the dirty below. Unable to focus on their victory he was sealed by the misery of his fate. Turning around he saw the large bulky figure approaching them. “Tell your Lord to get outa my ‘ed!” Yelled Cleaver as he brought down the Choppa, dissipating the horrors into nothing but fire and crackling energy. The Pax’nera had fallen back, the great ones claimed what they wanted and now more of the planet was theirs. Before he had a chance to rejoice, the crackling static and flames seized the Chaos Lord. Sparking and convulsing, his muscles expanded and were filled with a new vigour, a new vigour that would allow him to claim and defend the eldar moon.

The Lord of the Unquenchable Thirst

On Wednesday I managed to secure an heirloom of an old friend from another friend that wanted to get rid of it.  My friend Ron had his bloodthirster for many years and it was one of his prize possessions. Sadly due to its lack of survivability in past editions, he eventually traded it for some other models.

For over a year I saw the greater daemon collecting dust at Jack's. Knowing that he wanted to get rid of a lot of the models that he did not field, I inquired about the model. Jack said he would sell it to me and now he is part of my collection and has already featured in three games in just as many days.  Below is some fiction to how he was acquired and his first battle alongside my forces.

The Lord of the Unquenchable Thirst

Wandering his prison for many decades Rögnvaldr had been denied combat. His soul bonded to a realm of desolate tranquillity. The dust beneath his feet boneless and missing the history of conflict. A bloodthirster of Insensate rage, he spent his days wailing and thrashing at the stale air and dust beneath him. Once a king among his army, now he was nothing but a joke. In the limited moments of clarity, he knew he had failed his master. A greater daemon was supposed to be the fear of all in the Warp and beyond. No one feared him. Every battle he had launched himself into he had failed, each one a depressing and hopeless loss. Now he sat collecting dust.

Perching on the only remaining piece of conflict, a broken ork truck, he sat and thought. His large taloned hands scratching at his thick-set godlike chest. The daemon had lost any sense of time and space. Wings bonded he had been denied flight and walking seemed a chore.

Suddenly the world lurched. The sand began to cascade downward, creating a whirlpool at his feet. he tried to escape but his hooves were bonded to the truck beneath him. Cursing and wailing he thrashed as the sand engulfed him.

Surrounded by fire, he felt like he was back at home. Stretching his now unbound wings, the embodiment of rage let out a roar that shook the rocky foundations beneath his feet.

"I am glad you are eager Rögnvaldr, Lord of the Unquenchable Thirst," spoke a raspy husky feminine voice.

Taken by surprise, the greater daemon turned to see the vast body of a female at least five times his height. Her hair wild untamed flame and her body glistening with sweat and seduction.

"I ain't got time for your Slaaneshy ways bitch, your gods just a tiny baby in comparison to Khorne!" He yelled, clutching at his ancient axe that was suddenly in his grasp.

"Do not be mistaken, I may look like a fiend of the Lord of Excess but I am no follower of any one god. I have benefited from the powers and blessings of many. My body is indeed the gift of Slaanesh, my Sword a gift from The Taker of Skulls, the hair a reward from the Changer of Ways and my internal corruption a curse of the Plague Father."

"I need blood, I don't care for your words woman!"

"Did your Lord give you blood? Have you been shedding Blood for the Blood god?"

Rögnvaldr looked at the floor, his arms going limp and his axe handing loosely in his grip.

"I thought as much," spoke the daemon, her Jackal head contorted in a bestial malevolent grin "I sacrificed the population of a planet for your release from your eternal prison. Now it is your turn to prove your worth. We live in a new age. Guide my legion of daemons to find the beacon of my shrine world and give it to Gurth of the Canis Aureus."

Before Rögnvaldr could question the mighty beast before him, he found himself in the realm of man. Sniffing the air he could smell the sweet innocent blood of the squishy blue men. Not sure of what orders to give the gaggling hordes of daemons he looked to his armoured gleaming enemies.

"KILL, KILL, and KILL SOME MORE!" Rögnvaldr roared.

Diving towards the devilfish he hacked it with his unrelenting fury. From the wreckage emerged the T'au fire team that then were dived upon by the daemonettes that surged beneath him. He had forgotten the excitement of war. Flying towards the next largest target he tore at the crisis suits, gleaming drones diving in the way of each of his blows. Spitting with rage he continued to swat them until he sunk his axe into the soft flesh beneath the crisis teams armour.

"Weak, weak you are all so weak before my might!" he roared in glee.

Rögnvaldr had never survived a battle or taken down anything of worth on the battlefield. Suddenly feeling a surge of admiration for his new leader, he knew he could get used to this level of slaughter.

Flamers darted across the battlefield setting T'au aflame, deamonettes moaned and shrieked in ecstasy, dismembering those in their path. Across the battlefield plaguebearers and the freshly diseased, marched forth blinking in and out of reality restoring what the T'au thought to be lost numbers.

Knowing when to cut her losses the T'au sun shark pilot retreated as the rest of her force was torn apart by the daemonic horde.

Victory had been swift but sweet. Rögnvaldr had cherished every moment, so much so that he had forgotten why he was even here. Approaching him, a daemonette held out a damaged ancient stone.

"My lord we have retrieved the artefact, we must now meet the Lord of the Aureus." she uttered in a raspy lust filled tone.

Embarrassed at his lack of focus and wanting to assert himself, Rögnvaldr brought his axe down onto the daemonette and picked up the artefact. Before pointing at a random daemon in his horde.

"Oi you! Open one of your portals, we have work to do!"