I couldn’t resist taking a picture of the finished Brass Thief in a way that payed homage to his first appearance in Ravenor Returns.
‘The Brass Thief rose to its feet. Smoke poured off it, gusted from its awakening. It was thin, wrapped in segmented plates of gold and brass, faceless but for eye slits in the high-crested helm.
“The incunabula is awake,” Keener whispered.
“Tell it to feast,” Culzean said.’
I also finished painting Herod Puginus. I wish I had Kaptin Badrukk’s hat somewhere in my bitzbox, but it should be trivial enough to add should I ever get my grubby mitts on it.
Lord-Captain Rogue Trader Herod Puginus strode down the corridor, his ornate boots clinking off the polished metal floor. This trip to the Halo Stars was risky, to be certain, but the profit that could be made was immense, even by his standards. The away team had returned with their haul of xenos artifacts which he was sure he could sell for ruinous sums to the idle nobles of the subsector.
Archovator Gibbs was standing in front of a void-sealed plasteel chest along with two others.
“Where are the others?” Puginus asked, before seeing the look on Gibbs’ face and halting his stride. “Merciful Emperor man, you look like you’ve seen a revenant!”
“I beg you Captain, return this crate to the surface, back to the bodies and the howling and leave this place. We were damned foolish to come here, and now we’re just damned.”
“Nonsense, Gibbs, nonsense. The tales about the Halo Stars are put about by superstitious Ecclesiarchs and the Inquistion to prevent noble seekers of profit from exploiting the ancient and valuable archo-xenos artifacts available for the taking.”
Puginus noticed the large object Gibbs was clutching in his hand. In shape it resembled a censer from a temple service, but it had a greenish tint to the metal and green light seemed to dance within. He felt a sudden urge to hold it, to have it in his hands.
“Gibbs, give that to me. Can’t have you handling the merchandise!”
Archovator Simeon Gibbs suddenly shrieked, shocking all present, and launched himself towards the lander they had used to reach the desolate planet below. With practiced ease, Herod Puginus pulled his ancient shuriken pistol from the holster on his hip and reduced Gibbs to a pile of shredded red meat. The artifact seemed to take in the blood, and the lights inside glowed brighter. So bright.
The Marcus Crassus drifted in the void, near the border with Imperial space. Occasional gouts of venting atmosphere blew from parts of the hull. No heat signature was detectable within. The thing stalked the corridors, avoiding the fallen pipes and sparking cables. It wasn’t hungry, as such, Just bored. Cyclopean cities filled its mind, along with eerie alien songs not heard since millenia before the Elthir took their first tentative steps onto maiden worlds.
Yes, bored. It tasted the concept with its mind, finding it strange and yet somewhat familiar. A deep sense of horror and panic welled up from deep inside and after a moment it savoured the sensation. Bored.
The Primordial Truth 