Hey guys, Ethan here! Well its leap day, and with it comes another Vostroyan Blowout
NEWS
Our sound design is now being down by a PROFFESIONAL composer
Multi Addy and Emmy award winning composer Len Miller
Better known as this Jew's dad.
Here's a link to his site
Dreamscapemusic.com
This site requires Javascript, so be warned...
We also have a new Modeler/texturer/animator, Wereturnip… You’ll see his handiwork in a bit….
In other news, Our alpha work is being renewed, So that should be completed within 3 weeks
NEW MAPPING COMPETITON! This ones open till the end of march, basically same one as the other one, just extended
Now some bad news, the animation reel will be delayed, were turnip, in a snowmobile accident, got totally f*cked, thus it might take a while to get it to you.
Now, onto the thing you want.
Everything: Is here…. Enjoy
Tanks, Tanks and MORE tanks
AND Thuderbolt fighter from Death Korpse of War!
Tis coming along quite nicely If I do say so myself
Now mapping progress from george!
note the realy bad home made custom sky in one!
Now for the fluff portion of our mod: The Vostroyan 42nd from Neocho!
-----------------------------------Part 1----------------------------------
Marshal Bizmarcke Erginov stood by his charts. This was not where he wanted to be. While bred in the Schola Progenerium back on Vostroya, he always preferred to lead from the front. Some of his colleges did not like his style of leadership, and it was due to their protests that he stood on board the 42nd's transport Redokbr He was sitting across from Colonel Litvenkov, Colonel Orang, and the newly promoted Colonel Spasibo. It was due to Colonel Novic's death that forced Erginov from making planet fall with his men. All four regiments had been sent from the Departamento Munitorium to free a ice world from the clutches of chaos. Orang's regiment, the Tallarn 567th. was the only non-Vostroyan regiment on the ship, and had been so due to a clerical error, the Vostroyan 321st was now sweating on a desert world without a name, such as all the Tallarns were freezing on the ice world.
"Maj--er, Colonel Spasibo, surely your new rank has gone to your head, no sane man would dare attempt such a tactic. My men will--"
Spasibo cut Litvenkov off, "This is the Fell Powers we are talking about. They are not sane They do not expect us to attack a way they would not expect us ! To ford the river is the only way to break ther grip on this city, on this world! Glory awaits!"
Erginov broke up the feuding, "This is why we have pre battle briefings, this is why we maintain communications. This is why the vox set was created, komarads.” The Vostroyan word slipped from his tongue, but he quickly relapsed into Gothic again, “No battle plan survives the enemy, but yet is that not how we became these men’s leaders? Have we not proven that we are capable of adapting to any situation? We must do as Spasibo says. Let my 42nd take the point if you will not trust me. Let my men take the bloodying!”
“That is a grave decision to make, Marshal.” said the Tallarn. It was the first thing he said during the entire meeting. The troop ship had it’s core temperature lowered to suit the Vostroyan’s comforts, but not the Tallarn’s. They all covered themselves in blankets and dress uniforms plus cold weather gear just to get through the day. Their counterparts, however; wore ordinary shirts and slacks, much like the Marshal and Colonels.
“It is a grave decision to drive through their front ranks. We must tunnel underneath them, as Spasibo suggests. We must strike from both behind, and front. There can be no way for them to defend from two sides. They will fall like a folder set upright.” And with that, Erginov stormed out of the room. Litvenkov ran after him, and caught his shoe lace on his boot. Both stumbled and fell comically onto each other, but neither was laughing.
“Where do you think you’re going, Marshal?”
“To my men! To the front lines! To seize the initiative and the day, and to the victory! I am the ranking person on this ship, and the planet. This meeting is over, and I am heading to the surface!” Erginov got up and head to the hanger.
The troop ship was a standard Galaxy Class, and it’s hanger was similar to thousands of others around the galaxy. The only difference was that Erginov was pounding on the door of a Valkyire transport, screaming.
“I need access to the surface. Now. You are to take me down. Now. I am Lord High Marshal Bizmarcke Ivanovich Erginov. Serial number 41.905.47382.68234.00957.00345. He clattered his bolt pistol against the door, “NOW!!! By the grace of the Golden Throne, or I’ll blow your ship apart bolt by bolt!!”
The door was lazily opened by a sleepy looking pilot. Erginov rushed the man,. And his bionic arm smashed into the man’s face, fortunately avoiding contact with his visor or implant sockets. Erginov strapped himself in and gestured for the pilot to enter the cockpit.
“Come on you Khekking swinewhore! Up! Away! Now! Khek! Khek! Khek! They’re coming." He shot the man as he was opening the cockpit door, and unhooked his buckles. He decided to pilot the craft himself. He engaged the navigational servitor, and shut off the communication servitor after he authorized the hanger bay’s door opening. A small shrine to the Machine God lay in the corner of the room, next to the entrance in a closet. He lit some incense to appease the second face of the Emperor, and He was pleased, for the engines started after only three attempts. Emergency lights flashed on the cockpit, but Erginov had no time to decipher their meanings. The Marshal and his body guard were rushing into the hanger bay when emergency doors locked them out. Erginov sighed a groan of relief as he knew he now had time to pilot the craft through the narrow bay doors, and then onward to the surface of Plutok V.
It was a muddy planet, Erginov thought as he saw it through the Valkyrie’s vision slits. Small explosions were barely visible, and he knew these must be Earthshakers, pounding away at enemy positions. He consulted a cogitator and detected his own forces among the other Vostroyan, and saw where the Valhallans, Tallarn, and Krieg regiments were. His 42nd was in the middle of a formation that he saw was stationary, awaiting orders from their commanders high in orbit. He was in the atmosphere now, and he still saw nothing but massive blobs which the cogitator told him were men.
He was only a kilometer away when the craft began to shake. More red icons were flashing the green ones, and he knew the craft was dying. One of the gauges he failed to notice before was the fuel reading. It was currently at 2%. As the engines died, so did his power, but as all the servitors had internal biometric power supplies built in them, they would remain on for a few more hours. He activated the communication one, and deactivated the nav servitor
“This is Marshall Erginov, Make way, Crash landing imminent.”
Fortunately, the directional flaps were controlled by hydraulics, and he only had to use his bionic arm to guide the craft to a less then soft landing. He was knocked momentarily unconscious and was awaken by his own men.
“Komarad Erginov, are you okay?” asked the man.
“Yes, Lieutenant. I am fine, thank you. Help me out of this wreck. Tell the Techpriests to build sturdier ships, and this wouldn’t be a problem.”
With his composure regained, his charisma returned. He keyed his vox bead to all his men, “We shall join Colonel Spasibo with his plan, my komarads, we shall tunnel under the enemy, and strike from their rear, as Colonel Litvenkov and Colonell Orang hit their front. For Vostroya, my men, my komarads. For Victory, and the Emperor!”
He donned a jacket adorned with his insignia, and called for one of the men to pitch him a shovel. He began to dig, and his men took up shovels used to dig trenches, and begun the work of heroes.
The troop ship was a standard Galaxy Class, and it’s hanger was similar to thousands of others around the galaxy. The only difference was that Erginov was pounding on the door of a Valkyire transport, screaming.
“I need access to the surface. Now. You are to take me down. Now. I am Lord High Marshal Bizmarcke Ivanovich Erginov. Serial number 41.905.47382.68234.00957.00345. He clattered his bolt pistol against the door, “NOW!!! By the grace of the Golden Throne, or I’ll blow your ship apart bolt by bolt!!”
The door was lazily opened by a sleepy looking pilot. Erginov rushed the man,. And his bionic arm smashed into the man’s face, fortunately avoiding contact with his visor or implant sockets. Erginov strapped himself in and gestured for the pilot to enter the cockpit.
“Come on you Khekking swinewhore! Up! Away! Now! Khek! Khek! Khek! They’re coming." He shot the man as he was opening the cockpit door, and unhooked his buckles. He decided to pilot the craft himself. He engaged the navigational servitor, and shut off the communication servitor after he authorized the hanger bay’s door opening. A small shrine to the Machine God lay in the corner of the room, next to the entrance in a closet. He lit some incense to appease the second face of the Emperor, and He was pleased, for the engines started after only three attempts. Emergency lights flashed on the cockpit, but Erginov had no time to decipher their meanings. The Marshal and his body guard were rushing into the hanger bay when emergency doors locked them out. Erginov sighed a groan of relief as he knew he now had time to pilot the craft through the narrow bay doors, and then onward to the surface of Plutok V.
It was a muddy planet, Erginov thought as he saw it through the Valkyrie’s vision slits. Small explosions were barely visible, and he knew these must be Earthshakers, pounding away at enemy positions. He consulted a cogitator and detected his own forces among the other Vostroyan, and saw where the Valhallans, Tallarn, and Krieg regiments were. His 42nd was in the middle of a formation that he saw was stationary, awaiting orders from their commanders high in orbit. He was in the atmosphere now, and he still saw nothing but massive blobs which the cogitator told him were men.
He was only a kilometer away when the craft began to shake. More red icons were flashing the green ones, and he knew the craft was dying. One of the gauges he failed to notice before was the fuel reading. It was currently at 2%. As the engines died, so did his power, but as all the servitors had internal biometric power supplies built in them, they would remain on for a few more hours. He activated the communication one, and deactivated the nav servitor
“This is Marshall Erginov, Make way, Crash landing imminent.”
Fortunately, the directional flaps were controlled by hydraulics, and he only had to use his bionic arm to guide the craft to a less then soft landing. He was knocked momentarily unconscious and was awaken by his own men.
“Komarad Erginov, are you okay?” asked the man.
“Yes, Lieutenant. I am fine, thank you. Help me out of this wreck. Tell the Techpriests to build sturdier ships, and this wouldn’t be a problem.”
With his composure regained, his charisma returned. He keyed his vox bead to all his men, “We shall join Colonel Spasibo with his plan, my komarads, we shall tunnel under the enemy, and strike from their rear, as Colonel Litvenkov and Colonell Orang hit their front. For Vostroya, my men, my komarads. For Victory, and the Emperor!”
He donned a jacket adorned with his insignia, and called for one of the men to pitch him a shovel. He began to dig, and his men took up shovels used to dig trenches, and begun the work of heroes.
The Diggers had reached the point at which they were suppose to break surface, and were called back. It would have to be done by hand, or risk alerting the enemy’s rear guard. They were to pop up underneath the enemy’s last trench, and along with Spasibo’s 33rd regiment take the trench as the other two regiments, the Vostroyan 87th, and Tallarn 567th attacked the front. The trenches were held by chaos cultists, and a few Traitor Marines . They were the only access to the planet’s capital city, which lay in a valley. A great wall separated the city from the land, and it was desecrated with foul sigils of the Ruinous Powers.
“This is our Victory Day, men!” screamed Marshal Erginov, “We shall surprise these foul heresies, and they shall fall, for our faith is the greatest, and our faith is superior. I hear-by decree it on this glorious day in the name of the Immortal God-Emperor, blessed be His Holy Name.” The last meters between the surface and the tunnel were now being dug away, and blood would soon fill the air with it’s grim fragrance. Each man was checking his own lasgun, and muttering final prayers before entering battle, whatever their personal custom was. Erginov heard a static communication over his personal vox bead.
“Brother-Captain Amdeus, The auspex shows signs of life underground. Perhaps it’s the missing two regiments. Advise.”
“That would b-- my bet, Justicar. Continue as --ed.”
“The Emperor Pro---.”
“--ay your blade be bloodied quick.”
The message crackled out again, and the rest became unknowledgeable. Erginov knew the term Justicar was only used among the Arbites and the Astartes Chapter known as the Grey Knights, and he knew of no Arbite title of Brother-Captain, so he knew it must be the Astartes. The Emperor truly does provide, he thought as he finished his benediction with a final few sentences ad hoc to his men:
“The Emperor’s own Adeptus Astartes have come to our aide, men! None can stand before us now, For Vostroya! For the Emperor!”
Daylight crackled into the tunnel, and the ground shook as what felt like earthquakes widened the gap large enough for 3 Leman Russes next to each other to stride through un impeded. Luckily, no men were hurt.
“Spasibo, are your men ready to follow us the Grey Knights have come to our aid.” Erginov voxed to the newly promoted man.
“Aye, Emperor willing, my men are ready. I will relay the order to the front lines to attack.”
Erginov ran through the breach, bolt pistol smoking and power sword glowing as cultists were started by the intrusion. Almost half a dozen fell before they even knew to turn around.
“Go! Go! GO!!!” He screamed to his already eager men as they followed him. Their lasguns made the typical crackling noise of as they all went off at once. Scores of the cultists fell, and barely a man fell for the Vostroyan side. Only a handful of the desecrated humans were able to keep their wits to find a piece of cover and hide, to await their deaths.
Erginov saw a bunch of pods, all open, grey as the sky during a snowstorm, he thought on his home world. Men, if they could be called that, since they were so large, in resplendent grey, shining armor with swords, halberds, and even a few hammers roughly their size had all emerged from the pods, and were striking a powerful blow into the chaos lines, and it seemed as if they were not even breaking a sweat. Erginov’s jaw dropped in awe, but closed before a Traitor Marine almost cleaved him in two. As magnificent as the Knight was, the Traitor Scum was just as disgusting. Foul markings covered his once proud armor, and his scream seemed to have been able to awaken the dead. His power sword met it’s chain sword, and glowing aura met ancient teeth. The chain sword shattered into a million tiny shards, and embedded them in everything around it, including the Traitor who had welded it. Spasibo was just emerging from the hole as this was going on, and he stood in horror as he saw the abomination dueling the Marshal. Erginov fired the bolt pistol into it’s head, and it’s helmet, which was a sickly purple in color, absorbed the shots like it were quicksand. The thing pulled a foul looking blade from a desecrated pouch, and began to scream once more. Erginov’s eardrums burst, as did the closest men around him, and he fought on deaf. His power sword met the blade, and it slid down, and sliced the Traitor’s fingers off.
“DIE FOUL ABOMINATION! MEET YOUR FOUL OVER-LORD IN THE DEEPEST BOWELS OF HELL!” He yelled with all his might, and swung the sword in a manner which took off the thing’s head. Erginov collapsed in trepidation, for he felt his men may have thought he was dead, but he got back up, his strength all but drained. He saw about dozen more of the chaos marines, all being dealt with by the Grey Knights. But hundreds, if not a couple of thousands of the cultists still to be killed. Deaf, and bleeding from his ears, he propped himself up with his inactivated power sword, and threw slug after of slug from his pistol into the mob of cultists. His own men joined him, now shoulder to shoulder with their leader, they fought with the ferociousness of a demon-spawn, slaying cultist after cultist in sweeps of red lasers.
They swept the trench clean with fifteen minutes after Erginov’s duel. They met up with the other two regiments soon after, whose own attack had been bloody, for they were lucky if the two regiments were equal to one, the Tallerns haven the worst of it though even then. Between Erginov and Spasibo, they lost two dozen, and the Astartes had lost none. Erginov looked around, and saw Commissar Kursk was still among the living. He cursed to himself, and saw one of the Knights walking toward him. He went to one knee, but the man drug him up like a rag doll. He began speaking to him, but Erginov was deaf, and didn’t hear a word of it. He saw only the Emperor’s finest warriors, and was almost blinded by the glorious armor the being wore. Even covered in blood, it shone like a star. One of the troopers around him would remember it, and write it down for him later, but had Erginov heard the praises spoken to him, spoken by one of the Emperor’s Chosen none the less, he would have probably died of gratitude at the time. The Astartes didn’t even think the man was deaf though, he simply thought he was in shock. He thought it was beneath a Marshal of the Imperial Guard to do so, but he commended the man for his heroics anyway.
When the Knight was done, he left to tide to his own ways, and Erginov gathered his men. They all looked up to him like a demi-god.
“I may be deaf, but I hear the Emperor’s praises from the Throne on Terra as I speak. This is but the first step on our journey, however; the city itself awaits us!”
No mortal being could even come close to understanding what terrible things the Chaos Worshipers were doing. They only thing they could understand was what they could see, and they saw the abominable beings washing the city’s walls with the blood of civilians. It ran down the 20 meter walls, and collected into the ground below, where it slowly sank into the ground. Spikes from the Warp itself sprouted from the ground, and thus made it impassible. The ground around the city became a foul temple to Khorne, and a massive effigy of Kharn the Betrayer hung from the city’s tallest tower, which was about a kilometer tall. From half a kilometer away, Marshal Erginov could hear the screams of tortured civilians, being offered to the warp’s own God of Blood.
He raised an imagifier to his eyes, and saw that the Kharn idol was made of skulls from killed civilians, and probably even cultists, different shades of blood made paint, and most of the grotesque canvases each had oozing parts of brain matter dribbling down to the earth.
“By the Emperor, these are not things men do.” Colonel Spasibo remarked, when given the magnifier.
“I take it you haven’t faced this scum before.”
“No, Marshal, only Orks and more Orks. Lots of Orks, really.”
“These don’t think like Orks. They want only blood. And there’s a difference between blood and battle. These guys will start killing themselves once the battle sways to our side, Emperor willing.” The Marshal ended the conversation. He had just begun to get his hearing back, due to a Magos Biologis being on hand, and he had re-grown Erginov’s ears using his own genetic codes. DNA the Tech-Priest called it, but Erginov was just glad he could hear his komarades and soldiers once more.
They were in Chimeras, while their pilots worked out a route around a roadblock erected by the cultists before they took the city originally, which the local PDF did nothing but slow them down. They were not made for urban fighting like the Firstborn were. Leman Russes from the Vostroyan 64th Armoured were clearing the rubble.
Erginov’s own 3rd Army had joined with High Marhsal Olaf Bicovick’s 1st Army, which had turned Erginov from Army Commander, to a regular Regiment Commander, something he did not mind, but for now his own word was not law, and just as equal to Litvenkov’s. Old Bitch, as he was referred to by his friends and enemies, saw more to being a blood letter then a tactician, and thus saw his own ideas more in line with Litvenkov’s then Erginov’s. There would be a straight push right through the center of the wall, with armor piercing the wall, and left the infantry regiments to mop up the resistance. As every wise warlord knew, no plan survives contact with the enemy, but Old Bitch was not wise, and thought his own word was as Holy as the Emperor’s.
The Chimera began rolling again, and the ride was bumpy, but short. Voxxes from Army Command ordered all the men out of the Chimeras, and to foot it the rest of the way. Litvenkov stayed in his Chimera, but Erginov slogged it with his men, and made sure he talked to as many of his men as possible.
Minutes later, another vox told everyone that the gate which was the only break in the city’s wall was opening, and thousands of cultists were running form it, and toward the total of 8 Infantry, 4 Armored, and 2 Artillery Regiments. Fortunately for the 421st and 12th Artillery, they were packed onto some hillside, back by the trenched, about a kilometer away from the city. The Bassilisks hurled shells into the city, and a few hit the wall, but whatever crater they made, the blood covered it, and replaced it with black crystal, meant to act as a replacement. The city itself was free from the sorcery, which was good for the Vostroyans.
Cheers!
Ethan, A.k.a. Deathreapa11, Vostroyan Team leader
Vostroyan Firstborn Modding Team
Deathreapa11: Team leader Voice actor
Vasilli:Map making Possible art
Thudmizer: AI coder
Cadian Guard:Concept art
ZombieDragon: Modeller concept artist mild coding Forum Moderator
Gaffer1991:Map Maker
Death Korps of War: Building concept artist
EldestYoung:Fluff writer and comic artist
GeorgeRox26: Map Maker
Murph:Modeler
Neothoras: Modeler
Themanclaw: Texturer
Wereturnip: Modeler texturer, animator
Mankyle: Coder
Neocho:Resident fluff commissar
