Post by Kzer-Za on Dec 8, 2006 8:08:24 GMT -5
«Strikeforce Adamant»
1700 pts. Iyanden Army
HQ @ 190 pts.
Farseer Faeruithir w/Witchblade, Runearmour, Shuriken Pistol & Fortune @ 85 pts.
Autarch Aingeal w/Power Weapon, Warp Generator, Shuriken Pistol, Plasma Grenades, Haywire Grenades, Forceshield (4+ Inv. save) @ 105 pts.
Troops: 675 pts.
10 x Wraithguard @ 399 pts.
Spiritseer Àhsinac w/Singing Spear, Rune armour, Shuriken Pistol & Conceal
6 Pathfinders @ 144 pts.
10 Storm Guardians w/2 Flamers @ 92 pts.
Warlock w/Witchblade, Enhance & Shuriken Pistol @ 40 pts.
Elite @ 210 pts.
6 x Wraithguard @ 210 pts.
Fast Attack @ 228 pts.
7 x Warp Spiders w/Death Spinner @ 154 pts.
1x Exarch w/Spinneret Rifle, Power Blades, 'Surprise Assault' & 'Withdraw' @ 74 pts.
Heavy Support @ 390
Wraithlord "Maht'Kah-Rahn" @ 140 pts.
W/Dual Missile Launcher, Dual Flamers
"Maht'Kah-Rahn's memory is a living legend in Iyanden history... As the Kraken descended upon them, Maugan Ra emerged from the webway, and all understood the imminent doom which threatened the craftworld. With him was a host of dark reapers. Yet all the disciples of Khaine's darker aspects did not enter from the webway. Their own reapers had already prepared for the arrival of their lord, and amongst them was Maht, barely threading the path of the reapers at that historical time, his armor still without all the carefully repaired scaring which followed decades of war.
As the battle drew to its fiercest, the stories of legend was made, and Maugan's slaying of the tyranid biotitan was amongst them. But in the turmoil after the battle, Iyanden needed a heroic symbol to rally around when the Phoenix Lord and his followers departed. Much of the credit was awarded the aspect as a whole, along with Yriel, and Maht was amongst the few survivours to actually become a symbol in Yriel's absence as he retreated to the void to search for another way of saving Iyanden.
In the years after he spoke openly of devotion, sacrifice and duty, bringing together the surviviours in the monumental task of rebuilding their craftworld and repopulating it for the future. Used as a figurehead of the defiance of Iyanden it came as a great blow to the craftworld when the work of the tyranid biotoxins finally claimed one of Kraken's last Iyanden casualties.
But to counteract the blow to morale, Maht was given new form, and continued his task to the best of his abilities. Albeit having to speak through his spiritseer squires, his persona was not lost, and Iyanden felt that their sense of unity held them together even through death, as long as there was wrongs to be made aright.
In his time Maht has grown with the task and is not now the wideshooting carismatic youth he once was, but a terrible weapon of war. More cynical, merciless and ruthless, yet still the same person that may have aided their craftworld on the battlefield, but foremost have worked his wonders through the heart of every citizen."
Wraithlord Mencain @ 100 pts.
W/Dual Flamers & Wraithsword
"Iyanna walked barefeet across the scoured wraithbone flooring in the main sanctum of the Hall of Ynnead, nodding her acknowledgement to the various bonesingers and spiritseers mending the various shells of wraithguard armour left in disrepair after the last conflict.
As she entered the inner sanctum, she gazed once more at the rows of towering wraithlords standing row upon row in dormancy, awaiting the kindling spirit of a departed soul to animate the lifeless husks. She was always humbled by this sight. Not the might that the multitude of constructs represented, but the fact that each construct was customed for the soul of a special hero of times long gone. All prepared to fight from beyond the grave to protect Iyanden from its many enemies.
She reacted the nexus and sat down crosslegged near the center, placing a grey waystone in the central cavity. It fitted perfectly, as was to be expected, since the room was designed with one grim task in mind.
She closed her eyes and steadied her breathing, reaching out to commune with the infinity circuit, the storing place of the souls of all of Iyandens countless dead inhabitants.
The psychic attack was vicious. Not that she was attacked, but to tap but briefly into the curcuit, you would hear the dreams, wishes and regret of several billion of her fallen kin in a mere instant. A lesser mind would have gone mad, but Iyanna had mastered the art of communion. She swam through the myriad souls, looking for her target. She chanted his name in her head to work as a beacon for the particular warrior she craved.
At once he appeared, as if he had been expecting her, with a surge that made Iyanna rock in her trance. Or perhaps he still relished the idea of springing on his pray without their prior knowledge. Iyanna smiled at the thought inwardly... Old habits die hard for aspect warriors, even deceased ones.
As she fixed the soul in her minds eye, and the Old exarch of the Warp Spider Aspects prepared for the transition yet again. The chanting became audible, as it reached it's crescendo, and Iyanna drew her ceremonial knife across her skin. As droplets of her life-giving vitae fell on the waystone, she was screaming the ends of her powerful necromancy. The waystone absorbed her blood as a spounge, and slowly the reds started to twirl and twist as the inanimate waystone became a soulstone.
She sighed, rising from her crouched position, feeling spent, exhausted and arthritic. The ritual always took its toll, but it was a small price to pay for survival.
As she stood, she cupped the stone in her hands, carressing it like a newborn infant, holding it firmly as if afraid it would fall and shatter on the floor if dropped.
She walked to the cuirass and placed the stone in the heart of the construct. She took a step back as the sentience found control of his newfound limbs. He thrusted at imaginary objects before falling at ease, content with his newfound body.
Iyanna smiled a bittersweet smile at the sight, a single tear rolling down her cheek.
The warrior turned his attention to her and bowed as long as his gargantuan body could muster
+My lady, I am yours to command+
3x Support Weapon Platform @ 150 pts.
w/D-Cannons
"Striketeam Taloncrest: We move at their camp by the western side to clip their wings. Do it quietly! Place charges to destroy heavy equipment and tanks. Let's ease the burden on the entrenched Guard so that we will get off this bloody rock all the quicker. The Emperor Protects!" Sergeant Talhurst eyes each of his 5 marines, all veterans of a thousand insertions, knowing they are the best humanity can muster for these sorts of missions.
He nods reasurringly to them, and holds his lightning claws in the sign of the aquila. "From the darkness we strike..." he starts, and all continue "..., fast and lethal, and by the time our foes can react" He stops and remains silent letting his squad finish the mantra of their chapter. "Darkness there and nothing more!"
They eye him expectantly. "For the emperor, Kayvaan and the Ravenspire! Move out! The Emperor Protects!"
As incorporal ghosts their gargantuan black armoured visages are swallowed up by the nighttime forest, edging closer to their foes unseen.
Talhurst stops suddenly, and his squad freezes in their positions. A distant sound like a heavy cord being swung around in the air quickly is heard, before it stops. A second goes before Talhurst couples the unknown sound with his decades of battlefield experience. "COVER!" he shouts into his vox, wideeyed in disbelief at the trap they have sprung.
The gloomy twilight erupts in a deluge of amethystian lightning as balls of irridescent death land amongst the squad. Spheres as black as night remains as miniature black holes before they collapse sucking with it all matter previously occupied in that space and time.
Dolarian looks shocked at the stump of his left hand, the rest sent into the warp by the freak occurance. Coran is even less lucky, with almost half his body gone. Talhurst looks on amazed at the semi-circle of marine and power armour that is just gone from torso to leg, wounds fused shut by the hellish energies. Coran balances a bit before tipping over like a big tree felled for timber. Of Vornia and Wupna there is not even a single trace.
Talhurst does not dare to move from cover...
His whole squad, decimated in an instance! Old friends, forever gone!
A magnetic sound is emitted behind him more highpitched than the earlier. This times he reacts on instinct but as he turns and fires his boltgun on full auto, his eyes are fixed on personified death... To his credit he never screams....
Total: 1695 pts.
Models: X
Living: X
Construct: X
1700 pts. Iyanden Army
HQ @ 190 pts.
Farseer Faeruithir w/Witchblade, Runearmour, Shuriken Pistol & Fortune @ 85 pts.
Autarch Aingeal w/Power Weapon, Warp Generator, Shuriken Pistol, Plasma Grenades, Haywire Grenades, Forceshield (4+ Inv. save) @ 105 pts.
Troops: 675 pts.
10 x Wraithguard @ 399 pts.
Spiritseer Àhsinac w/Singing Spear, Rune armour, Shuriken Pistol & Conceal
6 Pathfinders @ 144 pts.
10 Storm Guardians w/2 Flamers @ 92 pts.
Warlock w/Witchblade, Enhance & Shuriken Pistol @ 40 pts.
Elite @ 210 pts.
6 x Wraithguard @ 210 pts.
Fast Attack @ 228 pts.
7 x Warp Spiders w/Death Spinner @ 154 pts.
1x Exarch w/Spinneret Rifle, Power Blades, 'Surprise Assault' & 'Withdraw' @ 74 pts.
Heavy Support @ 390
Wraithlord "Maht'Kah-Rahn" @ 140 pts.
W/Dual Missile Launcher, Dual Flamers
"Maht'Kah-Rahn's memory is a living legend in Iyanden history... As the Kraken descended upon them, Maugan Ra emerged from the webway, and all understood the imminent doom which threatened the craftworld. With him was a host of dark reapers. Yet all the disciples of Khaine's darker aspects did not enter from the webway. Their own reapers had already prepared for the arrival of their lord, and amongst them was Maht, barely threading the path of the reapers at that historical time, his armor still without all the carefully repaired scaring which followed decades of war.
As the battle drew to its fiercest, the stories of legend was made, and Maugan's slaying of the tyranid biotitan was amongst them. But in the turmoil after the battle, Iyanden needed a heroic symbol to rally around when the Phoenix Lord and his followers departed. Much of the credit was awarded the aspect as a whole, along with Yriel, and Maht was amongst the few survivours to actually become a symbol in Yriel's absence as he retreated to the void to search for another way of saving Iyanden.
In the years after he spoke openly of devotion, sacrifice and duty, bringing together the surviviours in the monumental task of rebuilding their craftworld and repopulating it for the future. Used as a figurehead of the defiance of Iyanden it came as a great blow to the craftworld when the work of the tyranid biotoxins finally claimed one of Kraken's last Iyanden casualties.
But to counteract the blow to morale, Maht was given new form, and continued his task to the best of his abilities. Albeit having to speak through his spiritseer squires, his persona was not lost, and Iyanden felt that their sense of unity held them together even through death, as long as there was wrongs to be made aright.
In his time Maht has grown with the task and is not now the wideshooting carismatic youth he once was, but a terrible weapon of war. More cynical, merciless and ruthless, yet still the same person that may have aided their craftworld on the battlefield, but foremost have worked his wonders through the heart of every citizen."
Wraithlord Mencain @ 100 pts.
W/Dual Flamers & Wraithsword
"Iyanna walked barefeet across the scoured wraithbone flooring in the main sanctum of the Hall of Ynnead, nodding her acknowledgement to the various bonesingers and spiritseers mending the various shells of wraithguard armour left in disrepair after the last conflict.
As she entered the inner sanctum, she gazed once more at the rows of towering wraithlords standing row upon row in dormancy, awaiting the kindling spirit of a departed soul to animate the lifeless husks. She was always humbled by this sight. Not the might that the multitude of constructs represented, but the fact that each construct was customed for the soul of a special hero of times long gone. All prepared to fight from beyond the grave to protect Iyanden from its many enemies.
She reacted the nexus and sat down crosslegged near the center, placing a grey waystone in the central cavity. It fitted perfectly, as was to be expected, since the room was designed with one grim task in mind.
She closed her eyes and steadied her breathing, reaching out to commune with the infinity circuit, the storing place of the souls of all of Iyandens countless dead inhabitants.
The psychic attack was vicious. Not that she was attacked, but to tap but briefly into the curcuit, you would hear the dreams, wishes and regret of several billion of her fallen kin in a mere instant. A lesser mind would have gone mad, but Iyanna had mastered the art of communion. She swam through the myriad souls, looking for her target. She chanted his name in her head to work as a beacon for the particular warrior she craved.
At once he appeared, as if he had been expecting her, with a surge that made Iyanna rock in her trance. Or perhaps he still relished the idea of springing on his pray without their prior knowledge. Iyanna smiled at the thought inwardly... Old habits die hard for aspect warriors, even deceased ones.
As she fixed the soul in her minds eye, and the Old exarch of the Warp Spider Aspects prepared for the transition yet again. The chanting became audible, as it reached it's crescendo, and Iyanna drew her ceremonial knife across her skin. As droplets of her life-giving vitae fell on the waystone, she was screaming the ends of her powerful necromancy. The waystone absorbed her blood as a spounge, and slowly the reds started to twirl and twist as the inanimate waystone became a soulstone.
She sighed, rising from her crouched position, feeling spent, exhausted and arthritic. The ritual always took its toll, but it was a small price to pay for survival.
As she stood, she cupped the stone in her hands, carressing it like a newborn infant, holding it firmly as if afraid it would fall and shatter on the floor if dropped.
She walked to the cuirass and placed the stone in the heart of the construct. She took a step back as the sentience found control of his newfound limbs. He thrusted at imaginary objects before falling at ease, content with his newfound body.
Iyanna smiled a bittersweet smile at the sight, a single tear rolling down her cheek.
The warrior turned his attention to her and bowed as long as his gargantuan body could muster
+My lady, I am yours to command+
3x Support Weapon Platform @ 150 pts.
w/D-Cannons
"Striketeam Taloncrest: We move at their camp by the western side to clip their wings. Do it quietly! Place charges to destroy heavy equipment and tanks. Let's ease the burden on the entrenched Guard so that we will get off this bloody rock all the quicker. The Emperor Protects!" Sergeant Talhurst eyes each of his 5 marines, all veterans of a thousand insertions, knowing they are the best humanity can muster for these sorts of missions.
He nods reasurringly to them, and holds his lightning claws in the sign of the aquila. "From the darkness we strike..." he starts, and all continue "..., fast and lethal, and by the time our foes can react" He stops and remains silent letting his squad finish the mantra of their chapter. "Darkness there and nothing more!"
They eye him expectantly. "For the emperor, Kayvaan and the Ravenspire! Move out! The Emperor Protects!"
As incorporal ghosts their gargantuan black armoured visages are swallowed up by the nighttime forest, edging closer to their foes unseen.
Talhurst stops suddenly, and his squad freezes in their positions. A distant sound like a heavy cord being swung around in the air quickly is heard, before it stops. A second goes before Talhurst couples the unknown sound with his decades of battlefield experience. "COVER!" he shouts into his vox, wideeyed in disbelief at the trap they have sprung.
The gloomy twilight erupts in a deluge of amethystian lightning as balls of irridescent death land amongst the squad. Spheres as black as night remains as miniature black holes before they collapse sucking with it all matter previously occupied in that space and time.
Dolarian looks shocked at the stump of his left hand, the rest sent into the warp by the freak occurance. Coran is even less lucky, with almost half his body gone. Talhurst looks on amazed at the semi-circle of marine and power armour that is just gone from torso to leg, wounds fused shut by the hellish energies. Coran balances a bit before tipping over like a big tree felled for timber. Of Vornia and Wupna there is not even a single trace.
Talhurst does not dare to move from cover...
His whole squad, decimated in an instance! Old friends, forever gone!
A magnetic sound is emitted behind him more highpitched than the earlier. This times he reacts on instinct but as he turns and fires his boltgun on full auto, his eyes are fixed on personified death... To his credit he never screams....
Total: 1695 pts.
Models: X
Living: X
Construct: X
)