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For the Ancestors!

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The aether-gold seem refracted from the bronze hull of the Dammaz Grund as she silently coasted through the inky black Chamon sky, making strange lights dance around the Ironclad like faeries round a Sylvaneth tree. Captain Kron looked out through his optics but could find nothing that demanded his interest aside from his Gunhauler escort, Azul Dum, tailing him at a safe distance with her guns scanning the skies for danger. Turning away from his porthole Kron laid in his bunk and examined the aether maps that adorned the ceiling of his quarters. It must be here somewhere, he pondered, stretching out a think finger and tracing the various routes and aether-gold seems, re-examining for the hundredth time the ancient trade routes bequeathed to him by his ancestors.

 A rapid banging on his door broke Kron from his reverie. “What is it?” he bellowed, knowing already that it wasn’t going to be anything good given the urgency of the knocking. “Captain, we need you on the bridge.” Kron recognised the voice as Duz, a recent addition to his crew from the last Musterpress. “Why? What have you done to my ship?” roared Kron as he threw his door open and barged past Duz, despite the latter’s best efforts to get out of his Captain’s way. “Captain, we….”

 A loud explosion rocked the Dammaz Grund from bow to stern. Kron was thrown from his feet despite his magnetised boots, just managing to catch a handrail to avoid being thrown overboard and plummeting to the steel plains thousands of feet below. The world began to spin erratically. Kron caught sight of Duz spiralling away into the darkness, and Azul Dum illuminating the sky with cannon and carbine fire whilst herself clearly in distress, wreathed in smoke and fire with one aether-endrin on the verge of breaking its moorings. Kron heard his own weapon batteries begin to return fire at the unseen assailants, the unmistakable whoosh of aethershock torpedoes soaring into the darkness. Getting to his feet, Kron staggered to the bridge, passing several dead Arkanauts on his way, plus a large number of dead and dying winged creatures. Really ugly winged creatures, thought Kron, with glaring red eyes and long yellow fangs.

 “Zaki, What in the name of Grungni’s beard is happening?” shouted Kron across the wrecked bridge. Kron’s veteran First Officer looked at him through the chaos, he was missing his rebreather and had clearly been severely burnt. “Just another night on the bridge, Captain. Aside from the flocks of undead terrors”. Kron smiled to himself inside his armour, good to know that Zaki hadn’t lost his sense of humour along with half his face and possibly his left arm. “Can’t I leave you to deal with anything by yourself?” snapped Kron as he crushed the skull of a nearby winged monster with his fist just as warning klaxons began to blare across the entire length of the vessel. Time was short, a decision was necessary. Zaki looked at Kron for confirmation of what they both already knew, Dammaz Grund was dying, but there was going to be no abandon ship order. “All hands to the weapon batteries, overcharge the endrins and set a course for the centre of this nightmare. Time we check out these God for ourselves, eh Zaki?”

“Aye, aye Captain! Course set, all crew to battle stations.” Zaki pulled out his personal decksweeper and readied it for maximal scatter. Setting the tiller on auto and with a final cry of “for the ancestors of Barak-Thryng!” the two Duardin threw themselves into the bloody mayhem of the night.

 Hi everyone,

Apologies for the long post – hope mixing narrative with painting progress is ok. 

Thought I’d share my growing Barak-Thryng force for AoS. Probably won’t get it to the table till 2.0 hits, but it gives me time to get it sorted out and the background written. Oh, and I have their enemies, a Legion of Blood host, to write up and paint too...

 First up is the Gunhauler Azul Dum – after surviving the attack that claimed her charge, the crew of Azul Dum have sworn vengeance and pledged their lives to recover the Ironclad. They are currently assigned to the frigate Gromthi Zan.

 Next are the Arkanauts from the frigate Gromthi Zan – detached from mining operations to accompany Admiral Bryn Ghal-Durak on his quest to recover his flagship (during the attack Ghal-Durak was aboard the frigate Garaz Dar so survived.)

On the way: Frigate Gromthi Zan and the Admiral of Fleet Ghal-Durak himself, the very angry Bryn Ghal-Durak!
Thanks for looking.







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I like the white you've used on the ship and on their armour, it kind of looks like bakelite which gives them a 1920s art deco feel that seems appropriate for Kharadon. Is that what you were going for?

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The High Council regarded Admiral Bryn Ghal-Durak with a combination of disdain (for he possessed a desire for ‘reform’ and ‘progress’) and awe (for this was the Duardin who had led more successful blitzkrieg missions against the various enemies of Barak-Thryng than any other).

 In return, Bryn Ghal-Durak regarded with the High Council with respect (for they were living Ancestors) and an equal amount of disdain (for they were stuck in the ways of the past and unable to see that progress could be made without foregoing the ways of Barak-Thryng).

 High Khemist Terrik R’Karr was the first to speak. His grainy, almost mechanical, voice reverberated from the highest grotesques in the Grand Council Chamber in the Sky-port. “Admiral, you appear to have lost a most valuable asset, as well as some crew and a considerable amount of aether-gold.” R’Karr looked at Bryn over the top of his glasses, his crystalline eyes whirring in their sockets. Bryn stared straight back at him and said nothing. He had opted to retain his full faceplate during this hearing – mostly to ensure the High Council couldn’t see the faces he was pulling behind it, hiding emotions had never come easy to him.

“Do you have anything to say?” chimed in Lord Gerink, the Cloudminers representative. “And may I remind you, you have sworn an oath on the Book.”

Bryn paused for effect – this wasn’t his first Council appearance, and probably wouldn’t be his last. His deep and authoritative voice boomed across the Chamber, enhanced by the acoustics of his faceplate: “The Code was adhered to throughout the sortie into Basilica. At no point did my fleet breach the rules of Barak-Thryng – there is no footnote stating that I am not permitted to lose ships and men in battle.”

“That’s as maybe Admiral, but…” began R’Karr, but Bryn forcefully cut him off. “Do not dare to judge me, High Khemist. I have adhered to the Code and will continue to do so. I have served and will serve Barak-Thryng until I am claimed by Grungni. There are losses in war, and this was a calculated risk to protect Barack-Thryng interests in Basilica now that Death has returned to Chamon. Tell me, Council, which footnote tells me how to deal with dead Ancestors taking up arms against my ships? Or how to protect the souls of my men from this other-realm evil?”

“Admiral, we mean no disrespect, but…” Wyn’tar this time, the Nav-League Ancestor. Bryn felt the tide turning, so decided to risk a final push and brought his gauntlet down hard on the pulpit. “Then by Grungni’s beard cease this ridiculous waste of our time and let me get back out to Basilica, recover my flagship and satisfy the entry in the Book. The dead are rising in huge numbers, the souls of our kin are restless and the very future of the Sky-Port hangs in the balance. Are we done?”

Outside Endrinmaster Makaz Rhun awaited Admiral Ghal-Durak’s departure from the Council Chamber – be that in shackles or in triumph. He watched the toing and froing of the administrative Duardin, each trying to carry too many scrolls or tablets and chuckled at the inevitable collisions and subsequent blustering. “Not pass muster, not one of yer” he said to no one in particular. Suddenly the Council doors were thrown open and Bryn strode out, issuing orders to Administrators and kicking the occasional one that got under his steel-shod armour. “We good?” asked Rhun. “Aye, Rhun, we’re good. Although we should make haste lest the Council realise what they’ve agreed to before we get chance to cast off” replied Bryn, quickening his pace. Rhun hefted his Aethermight Hammer over his shoulder and set off after Bryn, an ever-widening grin on his ancient and aether-wind ravaged face.




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Thanks for the comments!

The scheme is just my interpretation of the Barak Thryng colours. I chose them as the strict background gave me a way to create a character that was a little bit of a rebel, hence Byrn’s creation! He’s actually a reincarnation of a Squat Ancestor Lord from my distant 40k past. I don’t play competitively, all narrative driven, which is why everything comes with a wall of text!

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