#VIII legion

[aidoddark]

🦇AVE DOMINUX NOX

(Konrad Curze/ The Night Haunter)

I also have this bloodier version...

It's better to let Konrad eat in peace jejejeje~

Es mejor dejar que Konrad coma en paz jeje

Thanks for watching Don't forget to follow me on Twitter (X). The appreciation you give to my drawings motivates me to continue doing so 🛐

Gracias por ver No olvides seguirme en Twitter (X). El aprecio que ustedes le dan a mis dibujos me motivan a seguir haciéndolo 🛐

[nightscreeching]

Sketches. The dangerous nostraman grandmother and the emotion of disgust

[noctischaplain]

Cleanse

In the bowels of the escort Cobra-class, the Night Lords of the Murderous Glint kill-team moved in systemic protocol. Their preysight bringing illumination into the beautiful darkness. The crew deck spiced of recent gore, the aroma of bolter fire, and the hints of fear.

The moment it was exposed, the alien infestation had made moves to slow the legionnaires down. The critical sectors were already locked down and viciously protected by others of the warband, auspices and the apothecary was ensuring the quarantine noose-tight.

It has been a prowling half-week of hunting.

The mortal crew had pleaded for mercy, out of animal instinct than the long-established fact - their masters had none to give. Their existence was to serve, even it meant giving their lives to their convience.

The fact that the ahborrent xeno-tainted thought it could hide among their herd was both laughable and insulting. The Lords debated for hours on culling the entire population or not, it was only by the final words of the Lord-Chaplain on the Ebon Revenant did they decided a surgical move.

A test to see just how tainted their mortals were, the Tyranids were a damnable annoyance.

Claw leader Arkerus caught movement. His fist made a gesture, the rest of the claw splayed out with wargear at the ready. The droves of slaves were already in their sectors, killing themselves in the mounting fear at the suspect of being selected by the Eighth Legionary scrunity.

And when that multi-armed mutant was caught in the middle of trying to pry into the vents, Arkerus gave no second thought in shooting it apart in two shots. More than the needed one but he've suffered these 'Genestealers' before, they were not to be underestimated.

His auto-senses telling him there was other encounters, just as quick killings but one flashed.

The Claw leader didn't vocalize, he didn't need to. Only the flash of Majoris glyph flashing to his northwest. Quick as a whip, his backpack huffed in a vent of heat and he lept up to the second level. The catwalk almost whining under power armour weight, but it didn't stop his stride.

The snarls of Brother Konroth as he made battle with something that didn't want to die on the first shot, Arkerus seeing him move and weave from talons slashing and fire reports of a stubgun. Konroth flourished his combat knife, slicing wrists and carving into a bicep before yanking the larger monster.

It was humanoid in shape but the mutations was too far gone, the obvious corruption made Arkerus sneer. How long had they been infesting their slaves?

The thought was minute compared to his bolter snapping up, firing in a burst. Each explosive strike hammering into suit-covered carapace and taut muscles, the shrill scream of agony yawning from the fanged maw. Torso crumbling but it still fought. Not till Konroth's bolt pistol aimed and blasted its skull apart from jaw under.

Kill-marker to Konroth.

Then more marks were flashed with the shrill cries out from the darkness as the claw starting to gather into a crescent formation. They come and there was more than expected. Good - they came prepared.

"No Life Protocol. Activated."

The combat servitors came alive.

[nevesmose]

But what if I were to purchase fast food and disguise it as my own cooking the reader was a completely loyal and devoted serf of the III Legion who is (at first) amazed and honoured to be personally chosen by the Phoenician himself to help with civilising / educating Konrad in the ways of the Imperium by """"""assisting"""""" with the lessons Fulgrim is giving him about ways to interact with mortals other than ultraviolence?

But what actually unfolds takes place in a twisted, broken-down parody of a once-pristine art studio strewn with abandoned painting supplies symbolising the degree to which the efforts at civilising the Night Haunter have failed so far? And the painting supplies could be used for body writing.

[ew01z]

i just think i could call this man babygirl to his face and he would let me

[lesterspiffany]

Legionnaires Homeworlds

[jasposeyblog]

My acquisition of Mon-El and Shadow Lass by Dean Lee

[dykevie]

WHY DONT THEY EVER LET PAUL ELLERING TALK RECENTLY bc he obviously can when you watch old wwf such as wrestlemania viii and see him with lod

[bantarleton]

Trimontium Roman Fort

A departure from the Early Modern period to do a thread about the Roman fort of Trimontium in what is now the Scottish borders. I visited the museum at the weekend, and it was great! 1/14

Trimontium, now called Newstead, was first built about around 80 AD, during the Roman General Agricola’s invasion of Caledonia. It stood for over a century in an area known as Trimontium – between three hills.

The land had been occupied by native tribes since at least the Iron Age, with multiple settlements existing on the slopes surrounding the fort.

It served as a military base in Caledonia, and seems to have primarily been a cavalry depot for long periods – there are lots of horse remains, as well as these helmets and ceremonial faceplates belonging to Roman cavalrymen.

The XX Legion spent time there (as did the VIII, earlier on), as evidenced by the remains of this plaque.

A Roman soldier’s service record!

The fort’s strategic function shifted over time –it was a bulwark existing beyond Hadrian’s Wall, then after the construction of the Antonine Wall further north it became more of a logistical hub, then resumed being a frontier fort after the Antonine Wall’s abandonment.

Small settlements sprung up around the fort’s walls, and it is likely there were regular peaceful contact with the surrounding tribes. However there is also evidence of conflict. Roman forts came under sustained attack across several periods, and it looks as though when the fort was finally abandoned, it was done so in a hurry.

As per soldiers from the Ancient World to modern-day Iraq and Afghanistan, when the troops move out they leave a lot behind – lucky for the archaeologists and historians.

I am amused by how miserable Roman soldiers must have been after getting assigned to northern Britain. The ends of the earth indeed! I also do scoff at the whole “I think about Rome every day” meme, but I can see the allure, and I find it extremely interesting comparing and contrasting what I know about 18th c. militaries with the Roman Army. There were definitely a fair few things that I think the Romans were better at, especially when it comes to organisation, logistics and efficiencies!

[xec]

FACTIONS OF SKYRIM VIII. The Stormcloaks

The Stormcloaks are a rebel faction led by Ulfric Stormcloak and based in Windhelm. They seek to defeat the Imperial Legion that controls most of Skyrim, end the Empire's rule over the land, and turn Skyrim into an independent country.

[khorndog40000]

Ranking the Hangoutability of the Legions (Part 1)

Alright I'm bored, let's rank how fun it is to hang out with the members of the other Legions that fought against the lying Emperor (all of these are my opinion, please dont mail me a melta bomb):

Enperors Children: Mixed bag, but I'm leaning on not very fun. Most of them are honestly just deranged drug addicts who you can't really have good conversation with about a lot of stuff. They're also not very fun to fight alongside, because they'd rather flay a man and feed his skin back to him than just lop off his head in a clean strike, which I find really takes the fun out of a good fight if you see them doing that. I'd most recommend hanging out with Noise Marines, as while they may be loud and also hedonistic, they've got some sick ass war cries.

Iron Warriors: If you're a Khornate like me, these guys are horrendously boring. The only thing they ever talk about it "Siege Warfare" or "Wars of Attrition", as if they don't know what an infantry meele charge is. Avoid them, not because they're horrible to be around but because they're so boring not even slaughtering guardsman will improve your mood for a while.

Night Lords: Ahh, the VIII Legion, brutal, cruel and about as pleasant as the III. No really, a lot of them do similar horrible stuff during combat. Sure I also sometimes rip our people's guts, but I do it quickly not over 3 hours for Khornes sake. However, there are two scenarios where they're really fun. 1. You find an old veteran, maybe Terran even who still has a shred of honour in him. Those guys are cool but rare. And number 2. You really REALLY like jump packs. In that case you'll probably get on great, as long as conversation doesn't shift too much.

Thats it for now. I'd continue, but I've just received word that my ship is nearing an Ork world, and I don't want to pass up fighting some Orks. I will continue when I'm done fighting and have gotten the Ork chunks out of my armor.

[nightscreeching]

Queen Nocta and her guard meet the day pony on their territory.

[whencyclopedia]

Legions of Pannonia

Located west of the Danube, Pannonia was essential for the protection of the Roman Empire's eastern frontier. It had been occupied since 9 BCE but did not willingly accept Roman authority. Pannonia and Dalmatia revolted in 6 CE, and it would take three years and a total of eleven legions to finally bring Roman victory in 9 CE. To ensure peace, four legions were assigned to Pannonia: X Gemina, XIV Gemina, I Adiutrix, and II Adiutrix.

The Pannonian Revolt

After years of conflict with Rome, Pannonia had finally fallen under Roman control in 9 BCE. The uneasy peace that followed would not last long. After the Roman commander and future emperor Tiberius (r. 14-37 CE) withdrew legions from Pannonia and Dalmatia for his Germanic campaign in 5 CE, the two provinces seized the opportunity to rise up and revolt. The Pannonian rebel army struck first, marching into Macedonia. Meanwhile, Dalmatian rebels began to raid neighboring towns, attacking Roman auxiliaries and massacring Roman citizens. With this initial success, more and more Dalmatians joined in the cause. Eventually, the rebels would number over 200,000 – one-fourth of their combined population. Although surrounded by the rebellious army, the governor of Dalmatia, Marcus Messalinus, and cohorts of the 20th legion were able to rout the rebels. After the Pannonians laid siege to Sirmium (in modern Serbia), the governor of Moesia, Caecina Severus, and his legions marched westward to meet the Pannonian commander and his army and defeated him.

With the Dalmatian attack on Salonae (in modern Croatia) and much of the Adriatic coast in rebel control, panic across Italy forced the Roman emperor Augustus (r. 27 BCE - 14 CE) to recall Tiberius. With Legio VIII Augusta, Legio XI Hispana, Legio XIV Gemina Martia Victrix, Legio XV Apollinaris, and cohorts of the Legio XX, he marched into the rebelling provinces. In addition to Tiberius, Augustus sent the young Germanicus (15 BCE - 19 CE) to the Balkans with a force of evocati and non-citizen troops. Meanwhile, Aulus Caecina Severus and Plautius Silvanus arrived from the East with five legions. In total, the Roman army numbered 10 legions, 70 cohorts of auxiliary, 14 cavalry wings, and 10,000 evocati.

The Pannonians abandoned their plan to march on Rome, and the Dalmatian commander grew suspicious of his counterpart's loyalty to the cause. The Pannonian leader was captured, put on trial, found guilty, and executed. After this, the Roman army laid siege to several Dalmatian towns. Casualties were high on both sides, and it took one-third of the Roman army to finally suppress the uprising. Before the Dalmatian commander was led off to live the remainder of his life in house arrest, he had one final comment, blaming Rome for the war: "We are your flocks, yet you didn’t send shepherds to look after us, you sent wolves." (quoted in Dando-Collins, 234) Writing years later, the historian Suetonius (c. 69 - c. 130/140 CE) wrote in his biography of Tiberius about the seriousness of the rebellion. He said the revolt "proved to be the most bitterly fought of all foreign wars since Rome had defeated Carthage" (Twelve Caesars, 114).

In his The Complete Roman Legions, historian Nigel Pollard places four legions permanently in Pannonia:

Legio X Gemina

Legio XIV Gemina

Legio I Adiutrix

Legio II Adiutrix

Continue reading...

[noctischaplain]

What are We?

In the eternal cloak of night, we march in the name of those who denounce us.

We, the Lords of Night, were the Emperor's blades in the darkness.

We, Sons of the Sunless Cells and Nostramo, were the dregs of mankind giving the honour of judgement to the wanting.

Our sins were our baptism. Our failings were our prologue. Our humanity were our gateway.

No man, woman, nor child walk this galaxy sinless.

No astartes is unblemished of sin.

And they have dared to throw us under their treads of self-righteousness, for they could not stomach what we were commanded to do!

Flay the wayward! Make examples of those who denounced His olive branch! Punish those who lift their banner against His!

And when we performed our duty, ensured the Fear from their selfmade charnal houses and made millions more bend the knees whilst our cousin-legions would crush them under armour and fire! They dared to call us monsters!

Their gilded righteousness of bolters and nobility of war saw the utter destruction of countless whilst we culled far more in less time!

We were the Examplars of Fear!

We ARE the Examplars of Fear!

And we continue our dark edict by our slain Father's commandment! We bring that same Fear upon the wayward, church-driven Sheep of our Grandfather's Imperium. It festers in its own hypocrisy and they hate us for being true to our way and edict!

They will suffer us till the last Night Lord and we will drag them from their ignorance to what was!

We are the Lords of the Night! We are Fear! We are Terror! We are His and we will force all to know we are the Eighth Legion!

And they all will know True Fear!

[nevesmose]

All Nostraman music from every genre and time period just sounds like this:

And if you mention it they'll just give you this face:

and act like you're the weird one for noticing.

[myemuisemo]

Is there a gas leak at Baskerville Hall? I am so frustrated with my cinnamon roll Dr. Watson in chapter VIII of The Hound of the Baskervilles. We've suddenly gone epistolary, which fits the Wilkie Collins mood of all the derring-don't. and Watson has. lost. his. mind.

Selden the Murderer has either "got clean away" or been lurking in a neolithic hut, occasionally tackling and gnawing sheep for nourishment. (Here's Grimspound, as an example of neolithic huts.) Given that Baskerville Hall and Merripit Hall are both sparsely staffed (and Lafter Hall may be as well), Selden could just move into a disused wing and pilfer pies from the kitchen.

Mr. Frankland of Lafter Hall is nothing like the modern MP I expected (which is not Watson's fault), being instead a "choleric" old man who enjoys bringing law suits. "Apart from the law he seems a kindly, good-natured person," Watson says, thereby lining up with the legions of men who've refuted claims that a fellow man is awful by saying well, but he's always nice to me.

It would not in the least surprise me if Mr. Frankland had a long-term plan regarding property rights in Devon, and Watson just never thought to ask.

Speaking of asking, directly inquiring of Barrymore whether he got the telegram seems pointless because:

If he was up to no good, he knows he needs to lie and will.

If he isn't up to no good, his true answer will be exactly the same as if he were lying.

Meanwhile, because Mrs. Barrymore is a stolid, muscular sort of woman, nobody asks what overwhelming grief has her sobbing in the night. Watson does entertain the idea that her husband is a "domestic tyrant," but he does nothing about it.

Our old friend James Mortimer drops by with a skull he dug up because of course he desecrates graves. To be fair, grave robbing for cadavers to use in medical school was still done in the 1880s, so Mortimer wouldn't feel the kind of ick that we do. (Here's an article from Smithsonian and also a tangentially relevant article on how, in the U.S., it was usually Black cadavers that were disrespectfully obtained.) Since Mr. Frankland intends to sue Mortimer over this, perhaps Frankland does have an enlightened agenda that he's working toward, one brief at a time.

Where is Mrs. Mortimer? Sir Henry and Dr. Watson are entertaining Mr. Stapleton and Miss Stapleton somewhat regularly. it would seem little trouble to make it six at the dinner table and have another woman to accompany Miss Stapleton to the parlor for tea while the gentlemen remain at the dining table to pass port and cigars.

Meanwhile, previously daffy and harmless butterfly-chaser Jack Stapleton has developed "a dry glitter in his eyes, and a firm set of his thin lips, which goes with a positive and possibly a harsh nature." I feel like Watson is struggling to find a new man to focus on, now that his recent crush, Sir Henry Baskerville, is showing interest in the "exotic" Beryl Stapleton.

Watson is troubled that Beryl is seen to "continually glance at him [Stapleton] as she talked as if seeking approbation for what she said." WATSON. He's her brother. She's a woman in 1889. Yes, they might be hiding a terrible secret, but she also has no real power to do anything without her brother's approval. Watson hangs on the tiniest potential clues of a rocky family relationship for the beauteous Beryl but downplays big, flashing red signs saying FAMILY TROUBLE HERE from Mrs. Barrymore.

One would imagine that such a match would be very welcome to Stapleton, and yet I have more than once caught a look of the strongest disapprobation in his face when Sir Henry has been paying some attention to his sister. 

WATSON. What did Beryl do the minute she met you? Thinking you were Sir Henry, she told you to flee the moor. If her brother is up to something nefarious, of course he doesn't want her talking to Sir Henry. If she's merely superstitious, there's still the danger she'll drive away the only nearby gentry to batten on for dinners and socializing.

Maybe Beryl isn't that into Sir Henry but feels she can't say anything without ruining her only opportunity to socialize at all. I mean, it'd be gothic af to reveal that she's actually Stapleton's wife and maybe also the daughter of Rodger Baskerville, but there are other, simpler explanations for a little tension in the air.

In the vein of simpler explanations, Watson finds Barrymore skulking about Baskerville Hall in the wee hours of the night. "[T]here was something indescribably guilty and furtive in his whole appearance." Yes, Watson: because it's two in the morning. Everyone looks guilty at two in the morning, padding about trying not to wake anyone up.

Barrymore appears to be signaling with a candle from a window, which could be hound-related or Selden-the-murderer-related but could also have the simple, traditional explanation of smuggling.

Watson and Sir Henry have a plan to investigate this. I do not feel at all sanguine about their abilities to do anything other than blunder about, tripping over each other and shooting at the shadows.

If Sherlock Holmes suddenly appeared, having been disguised as Perkins the groom, the elderly Merripit Hall butler, or even one of the moor sheep, I would be so relieved.

This is one of those weeks when I viscerally understand how there was a huge Holmes fandom all discussing, arguing, and predicting between installments.