#salamanders legion

[wolfdrag666on]

gooo, salamaders, go! eliminate that terrible threat to humankind!

[frog76000]

Vulkan is the opposite of the first image but he's not like, brown he's literally like a coal-black, with bright red eyes, do I don't think it really counts

It's everywhere

[ghostinthegallery]

Y'know what? I'm feeling salty AND spicy today. You wanna know my 30k/40k hot take? The biggest missed opportunity IMHO?

TRAITOR VULKAN, LOYALIST CURZE!

How incredibly THEMATIC would it be for the guy whose single defining trait is care for human life (and maybe even other forms of life) to be so disgusted by the Imperium and its actions that he turns his back on it? Only to be branded a villain and a monster? What if Vulkan actually did something with his convictions? How much depth would it add to the Salamanders as a chapter to have them continue to try and protect the people who rejected them? Even as it becomes increasingly painful and impossible? Hell, they already have the element of people being scared of them because they...look different (actually that legit makes me uncomfortable, seriously GW what the fuck? But a lot to unpack) Anyway, that's some actually grimdark shit.

And speaking of grimdark, yeah those guys playing Marco Pollo in the orphan-blood pit? Those are the Imperium's guys! Imperium loves their wacky antics. It's not like Curze didn't get away with all that when he was on team Big E (Vulkan sure objected tho). Isn't that so much more in keeping with the Lawful Evil Meat Grinder Regime the Imperium is supposed to represent? Curze being a traitor is boring. It doesn't say anything! Loyalist Curze reaffirms so much of what the themes of 40k should be.

[tagedeszorns]

All of them.

They are available as stickers/shirts/on mugs/whatever in my Redbubble-shop.

[jollycryptid]

First time painting a mini from scratch & I used cheap acrylics I had.

[frogblast-the-ventcore]

[thegodemperorsmycopilot]

Salamander SCHOOLS An Iron Hands Legionary

[titanomancy]

Did you catch the sneaky neutron laser Krios lurking in the background of today's Dark Mechanicum rules preview?

I did. I see you, sneaky neutron laser Krios.

[leo-fie]

Made some loyalist Space Marine cross stitch patterns. Many of them are untested, I can't guarantee they work. But the idea was for them to fit into an 8cm hoop with 18ct aida.

There isn't enough grimdark crafting!

Space Wolves, Dark Angels, Salamanders, Iron Hands, Ultramarines, White Scars, Blood Angels, Raven Guard, Imperial Fists

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

In the Wings

Past =-= Next

Author's note: Next Part of Claude in Husbandry. Thanks for @sleepyfan-blog for letting me borrow Ash'val and Cedric.

Summary: Claude gets settled into the Imperial Fist and Salamander Base.

Warnings: Let me know if I need to add more

Tagged: @barn-anon, @bleedingichorhearts, @c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @egrets-not-regrets, @kit-williams

Tagged: @sleepyfan-blog, @whorety-k

Claude had told them that Cedric had left confinment to find and bring him back, and that he'd accept punishment on Cedric's behalf. Because it was due to him that Cedric had left the confined to base punishment to one of the Officers in Charge of Cedric's punishment. Captain Ash'val had a neutral expression on his face and had said, "Thank you for telling me Claude. You and Cedric will share some tasks for a month, after you finish healing."

"Yes sir," Claude said with a nod. He left after Ash'val had dismissed him.

Salamanders really are soft, at least compared to how the Mechanicum would have reacted to what Cedric had done. Or how he'd heard that the Black Templars would have responded to Cedric pulling what he did, especially for a cousin instead of a brother. He isn't going to complain. He is continuing to move when he spots something that his ice trace down his spine. He spots teal and silver and the twin heads of the Hydra serpent. He shifts his path to go in a different direction back to Cedric. While also keeping watch on the Hydra. Who- from the ways the others are interacting with him didn't realize his true colors.

Claude had quietly told Cedric what he'd spotted, he knows from what he told about the Alliance between the larger War bands, and the Companies, but it still filled him with dread to spot Hydra interacting with others. They were not to be trusted. Tricksters, face-stealing, duplicitious and two faced are the Traitor Hydra. Who's claws are eyes are every where and apparently everywhen. Cedric had taken his warning with due seriousness and has asked him if he knew the name that the Hydra used that wasn't "Alpharius".

"Luitenant something," Claude said with a self deprecating shrug, "I didn't want him to know that I realized what he was."

"Makes sense," Cedric says as he continues to count inventory of the medbay. Claude helping by putting back the items in the places that his brother- no, cousin indicated they should be put.

He was on light duty, whatever that meant, even though he's fully healed, only needing some minor surgery and his own rapid healing rate helping to patch him up. The rations were of better quality and taste than he remembers them being. Claude continues to help Cedric when he can, not being an Apothecary there isn't much he can do other than hold this or that, and keeping out of the way. His eyes flick from one side of the room to another, and he spots yet more teal. This one acting, and having the equipment of an Apothecary.

"Zariel" is the name the Hydra was being called by and fondly so by some of the visiting Ultramarines. Claude relaxes his vision and the teals changes to Ultramarine blue and gold heraldry for a moment, beforing going back to Teal. he's tried to teach Cedric and the other Primaris Marines that don't have his True Sight ability, not that it seems to work. And none of them know why.

"Claude," Cedric says suddenly, having glanced at his face for a moment before deliberately looking away, "eyes."

Claude closes his eyes and takes in a deep breath as he keeps a clear image of what he's supposed to look like, dark eyed, light skinned and dark haired. He opens his eyes again and lightly taps Cedric with one of his feet carefully who looks at him.

"Better," Cedric hums as they continue to work on medbay inventory. "See something."

"More Teal," Claude says almost silently, making sure not to move his lips as much as possible as he turns his face away from where the Hydra Apothecary pretending to be an Ultramarine is at. "Apothecary Zariel."

"Ah," Cedric replies, trying not to scowl in the direction of Apothecary Zariel of the 'ultramarines'. "We are finished with doing inventory in this med bay, lets go to the next one on the other side of the base Claude."

"Yes Cedric." Claude said with a nod following after his broher.

While most bases built by Imperial Fists followed the same standardized format, it was still a new base to Claude and he didn't want to get lost. He'd missed Cedric a lot once they'd been seperated into their different Chapters and had grieved when he'd heard that the other had gone missing. Slowly, one by one plenty of his brother Primaris Marines had fallen, in battle or have gone missing in the void. Perhaps they might be found one day on Ancient Terra? That would be nice, if that was the case, but the Galaxy was rarely so kind to a creature such as them. They continue to do their duty tasks, pausing to take breaks occasionally, lunch break, which was an indulgent hour long affair, had been nice.

"Do you know if they do Vespers?" Claude asks Cedric.

While the First Born Raven Guard weren't as religious as Black Templars, it was seen as good fortune and to be considered pious to hold Vespers at least once a week. Cedric shifts a little and says, "The First Born don't do Vespers in this base."

"Oh," Claude says struggling a little with that revelation, "Not at all?"

"No, but there are some places that… once my punishment is over," Cedric explains, "We can go to, in order to attend Vespers."

Claude nods at that, while he was allowed to leave the base for missions and for his leisure time, he tended to stay in the base to stay with Cedric more often than not. He… was trying to be friendly with other Scouts, but nearly all of them are First Born Scouts and tended to be… Odd, and very noisy and Boisterous. And they tended to cause Mischief and would complain that he was too much of a 'quiet stick in the mud about harmless pranks.' His face soured at that. If he hadn't stopped them, the prank would have, could have, hit the highest-ranking Chaplain on the base and he did not want to suffer the group punishment that would have doled out.

[sleepyfan-blog]

Lestra's Arrival

Author’s Note: This is the second part of the mini-arc involving new Primaris Black Templars arriving in the husbandry AU. FIrst. Next. Other Cedric fics here and here. Thank you to @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan for allowing me to borrow Hura and Zariel

Tagged:  @egrets-not-regrets @kit-williams @bleedingichorhearts @i-am-a-dragon34

Warnings: graphic description of wounds, blood, character death, 

Summary: A badly injured Lestra is found by a renegade warband and brought to the clinic for treatment.

The scent of blood was thick and heavy in the air as the wind changed directions. A small frown appeared on Tallis’ face and he signaled to one of the Cousins he was currently traveling with, as he was on point before speaking “Something… Someone is bleeding heavily nearby. Smells like an Astartes. I’m going to go check it out.”

“Careful, sorcerer. The Warp is much harder to reach in this time period.” The Raven Guard Sargeant who was the leader of the little warband that Tallis had been found and semi-adopted by, warned. 

“Yeah, Yeah. I know. I’ll be careful. First sign of trouble, and I’ll vox for help.” The Thousand Son hummed in acknowledgement as he carefully made his way over to where the scent of fresh blood was strongest.

~

It did not take long for Tallis to find the other Space Marine, who was leaning heavily against a tree. The other was naked from the waist up and badly wounded. There were bright red, raised lacerations covering every inch of skin on his back from the neck down. On top of those wounds were fist-sized bruises every four to five inches apart, too regularly placed to be randomly placed. Worse than that, however, was the wounds on his chest, as Tallis carefully turned him over.

Tallis couldn’t tell what color the other marine’s short hair was originally, as it was matted and discolored with blood. Both of his eyes had been scratched out by what looked like lightning claws. He swallowed hard as whoever had used the lightning claws on this poor marine’s eyes had liberally used them on his chest and abdomen as well, having carved words into his chest in a language that he did not recognize, though that might be in part from the amount of blood oozing from his wounds.

“I NEED AN APOTHECARY AT THESE COORDINATES IMMEDIATELY!” Tallis yelled  over vox, making sure that he was using the broadest and longest-range frequency he could as horror settled in his stomach, a heavy leaden weight.

The other marine was breathing, but his chest was rising and falling unevenly, and was more gasping than breathing regularly. He reacted to Tallis’ yelling by curling defensively, a pained whimper leaving him.

Tallis knelt down in front of the other marine, his voice quieter as he aimed for soothing, and landing on frantic “Hey… Hey. Easy. I mean you no harm, oh throne, you have no studs. You’re a scout. Who the kriff did this to a scout? Keep breathing and stay awake as best as you can. I’ve called for an apothecary. I do have some first aid training, and I do have some supplies on me, so I’m going to start treating you as best as I can, alright? Please don’t startle when I touch you. Can you tell me your name, scout?”

The scout whimpered and turned his face towards him, opening his mouth and revealing -

Oh. 

This poor bastard had his tongue ripped out too, did he? Tallis silently wondered if he’d been found and overpowered by a group of Drukhari before being translocated to M3 Terra. “Okay, no talking, for you. That’s okay. I can talk enough for the both of us. So, right now I’m grabbing the wound cleanser I have in my bag and I’m gonna spritz those claw-marks with it. Its’ gonna sting a little, but I know that you can handle it. Here. I’m gonna move one of your hands so that you’re touching my knee, so that you know that I’m here and I’m real.” 

He heard Sargeant Malish crash through the underbrush in his direction at the sound of his shout, the rest of the warband on his heels. But all Tallis could do was to focus on the poor, unfortunate scout in front of him, to try and reassure the lad that he wasn’t alone in a strange place, left to die slowly. 

“Enki, Rao, make us a stretcher. There’s a hospital a ten-minute sprint from here that treats Astartes, and he’s going to need a lot more than whatever first aid we can give him in the middle of this forest. Tallis, you stay with the kid until it’s time to move him. Do you see any signs of neck or spinal damage?” Malish asked, looking the injured marine over critically.

The scout who had black painted leg and boot armor whimpered and flinched at the sound of the sargent’s yelling, his shaking getting worse.

“I… No? I don’t think so, but we should be careful in how we move him, anyways. He’s in really rough shape, and I think at least one of his lungs have been ruptured, front he way he’s breathing. Easy… Easy, scout. No one’s yelling at you. You’re doing a great job staying awake.” Tallis murmured, gently patting one of the other’s shoulders, trying to get the poor scout to calm down a little. 

The scout whimpered wordlessly, but he seemed to relax a little, which was progress.. It did not take long for Rao and Enki to build a make-shift stretcher that would hold the kid’s weight. “Alright, we’re going to put you up in the stretcher, now. On the count of three, we’re going to lift you up and put you on it. One… Two… Three!” Tallis counted, helping to heave the surprisingly heavy scout up and onto the stretcher. Tallis ran ahead of the four carrying the injured scout, guiding them to the astartes-friendly clinic-hospital.

~

Despite the stench of blood, the slow, agonal gasps of the brother on the operating table, and the chemical scent of cleanser in his nostrils, Part of Cedric silently wondered if htis was a nightmare of some kind.

Lestra was on the operating table, again. Cedric was part of the medical team trying to save his life. Again.

Hopefully Chaplain Petras and Sargeant Brenthom would not come bursting into the roo, half-way through the procedure, with the former bellowing at them to stop all but the most necessary procedures to keep him from dying, as these wounds had been inflicted due to punishments that Lestra had somehow earned.

Quiet, obedient, dutiful Lestra. 

Lestra, who had some of the best scores of any of them when it came to marksmanship and tech-repair outside of the snipers and tech-marines.

Lestra, who murmured the prayers to Him on Terra most fervently, who delighted in aiding the Chaplains in any duties they asked of them, no matter how menial the task.

Lestra, who never questioned orders. Who tended to their weapons and armor with a patient reverence that bordered on nearly obsessive.

Lestra who, despite every effort that Cedric and the other Apothecaries were making, was once again dying, drowning in their own blood, as it filled their lungs faster than could be siphoned away. Whose blood loss was causing a cascade of effects that was shutting down their body. Lestra, whose body was rejecting the blood and fluids that they were trying to pump into them.

Lestra, who coughed wetly and grabbed Cedric with desperate, waning strength,pressingtheir forehead to his for several seconds before going limp, their hearts stopping.

Lestra, whose blood coated Cedric’s hands, arms and chest. Even after it had been washed away by an older Apothecary, when it had become clear that Cedric had locked up, unable to move.

“I failed them… Again.” Cedric muttered as he stared down at Lestra’s still warm body. Two of the Imperial Fist Apothecaries were preparing to open them up, to carve out the necessary organs that could be saved and reused. 

“Sometimes patients die, lad. Even though we do what we can to help them. They were in a bad way, lad. It was unlikely that they were going to survive. Do you know which chapter they belonged to?” One of the Imperial Fists asked, reaching out to try and touch Cedric.

Cedric flinched, stepping a half-step back not-trusting the touch to be painless. “Lestra, Primaris. Black Templars. They were… They were one of the first I -” found badly hurt. Before he… Before he knew what was going on. Before he knew which of his Firstborn brothers was beating them to the point of death. Not that he was fool enough to say that out loud where other firstborns could hear that. “The Bellasarian engine will explode if you try to remove it from their body, causing considerable damage, so leave it in place.”

“Ah… They were one of the first patients you lost? That’s always rough. Come on, lad. You can leave the grisly work of organ harvesting to the others.” Of all people, Captain Ash’val murmured.

Where had the salamander scout captain come from? He was no apothecary.

“But I… They need…” Cedric tried to find the words, his hearts bleeding and lungs seizing up. 

“The others will handle the organ removal. After that, Ramiel can guide their final rights, and you and the others can give them a final goodbye. Losing a patient is rough… Especially you’re first one, and I can’t imagine what losing your first patient twice must feel like.” Ash’val murmured, wrapping one arm around Cedric’s shoulders and steering him out of the operating room.

“But… But I was able to save Olivar… Why wasn’t I able to save Lestra? It’s not… It’s not fair!” Cedric managed out, trembling violently, though he did not resist Ash’val’s touch, nor his orders.

“Olivar’s wounds were less severe, and he was closer to treatment than LEstra. These things happen. You did your best, lad. That’s all we can ask of you.”

Cedric crumbled into Ash’val’s steady body, weeping until he passed out.

~

“Did you discover anything during the Autopsy, Zariel?” Ash’val, asked, his voice quiet, so as to not wake up the distraught young apothecary passed out in his arms, hours later.

“The lash-markings on Lestra’s body are consistent with the ones found on Ramiel and Olivar, when they were first brought in for treatment. As is the lichtenberg scarring and the way that the lightning claw wounds were on Ramiel’s and Lestra’s bodies. It’s likely that whoever went after our two surviving Primaris Black Templars was the one who killed Lestra.” Zariel dutifully reported to the Salamander.

Hura offered “Cedric was equally unsurprised to see the wounds upon Lestra, as he was on Olivar and Ramiel as well, which means he was likely one of the apothecaries who tended to the three of them in M42 before he and they were all brought here to Ancient Terra.” He was frowning as he watched the young apothecary in training sleep. “When I brought young Ramiel to view Lestra’s body, he was understandably distraught, but not surprised that they died, despite all efforts to save them.”

“You know… For as bad as they are at lying, they sure do seem to be keeping dark secrets and deep sorrows hidden in the deepest corners of their hearts.” Zariel murmured with a small frown.

“They correctly guessed the colors of your armor within weeks of living here. A feat most of the rest of the base has yet to discern.” Ash’val pointed out. “They may be young, but they are clever.”

Zariel huffed at that, looking away. “Point taken.”

“We should go, before Cedric awakens. Our presence will only confuse and worry him, given his recent trial.” Hura remarked, standing up a moment later and dragging Zariel out of his chair.

“Hey! I can walk on my own. Let me go, you giant bastard.” Zariel grumbled reluctantly allowing the Death Guard to manhandle him. 

[supercomputer-lizard]

Baldest primarch poll

Tomorrow is going to be the primarch with the longest hair

[wh40kartwork]

Alpha Legion / Salamanders

by Egor Gafidov

[terasaurtheveryflowydragon]

My first time working with Oil paints to make marines!

These guys were done over the course of many many months. Simply due to needing the oil paints to dry.

Honestly it was an interesting medium to paint with. I'll definitely try to cut my turpentine with some water next time so it isn't stripping my base layer haha.

This was a very nice project in the end tho and I'm happy I did those decals in the end.

[wh40kgallery]

Captain Artellus Numeon

by Israel Llona

[the-consortium]

‘Death is death,’ uttered Sepelius, cowled by a drake-skin hood, his face akin to a cadaverous rendering of the fabled reaper itself in the firelight. ‘Don’t you believe in rebirth, Kratus?’ Zantho asked without turning around. ‘Are you so morbid that your beliefs don’t allow for the possibility?’ ‘I am a realist, brother, that is all. I don’t have the luxury of indulging such existential notions.’ ‘You are a cynic,’ Zantho challenged. ‘Yes, that too,’ Kratus Sepelius agreed, utterly unfazed. ‘Then why attend the ritual at all, Apothecary?’ asked Arrok, a little too wounded, a little too headstrong. Xerus laid a hand on the younger warrior’s shoulder to remind him where he was and who he was addressing. ‘To see it was properly observed. I might not believe in rebirth but that doesn’t mean I want our traditions to be mishandled.’ He smiled, though it might as well have been a scowl at Arrok. ‘My duty is to the living, and keeping them that way. Legacy is maintained by science,’ he tapped the progenoid flask of his reductor with a gauntleted finger, ‘not through fire and ash. Such archaic concepts are anachronisms of the “old ways”, but none here have ears for my thoughts, so I shall bid you all a good burning and be on my way.’ Sepelius gave an ironic bow before stepping back into the shadows. A few seconds later he was gone. ‘Are they all like that?’ asked Arrok. ‘All?’ Iaptus queried, his gaze on the void left in the darkness by Sepelius’s exit. ‘Apothecaries.’ Iaptus frowned as if the question was a facile one. ‘Indeed, Brother Arrok. How did you think they were chosen for the apothecarion in the first place?’

Nick Kyme, Rebirth