The Silent Host: Magnus the Red, The Crimson King

Yeah, yeah, it's been a while. I've been busy, ok? Get off my case. Anyway, this little project has been wrapped up and a bow put on it. So let's talk about the centerpiece. Magnus the Red. Primarch of the Thousand Sons. The Crimson King. Champion of Tzeentch. Total sucker.

This model was a joy to paint. Detailed, gorgeous, I have no complaints. Except the nipple horns. Really, Games Workshop? WHY? Why nipple horns? It makes no sense. Oh, and much like the Chaos Spawn from last time, I added some ghosties to his hand and sword, because I like how it looks. Deal with it.

The Silent Host: Chaos Spawn

Ah, these guys. They were a pain to build. See. Normal Chaos Spawn look derpy. So I said to myself, "Greg, you wanted to paint some Primaris marines, and the person you play the most has like, three different armies of them. Why not make your own Chaos Spawn depicting their spirit being ripped out to serve you, rather than your opponent?"

So I did that, and it was a pain. Those ghosts? Would NOT stay together. Like balancing toothpicks on top of each other. And getting convincing-looking points where they could emerge from the Primaris marines? Annoying. So annoying.

The Silent Host: Heldrake - Yarak, Stooping to Devour

Diving precipitously from the sky onto unsuspecting prey, Yarak unleashes gouts of baleflame and rends with dreadful claws. Its cry is the shriek of tortured souls, the shadow of its wings the cold chill of death.

Those whom the shadow passes over breathe a sigh of relief, that some other mortal has been chosen to die for the delight of the once-man which motivates this twisted metallic demon.

The Silent Host: Raptors - The Jhatorat

Swooping down from the sky, jetpacks exhausting cold blue flame, the small, elite cult of Jhatorat assault troops are a remnant of the Silent Host's pre-Heresy days. Once, the Jhatorat formed only a portion of the vanguard of the Silent Host's strike forces. Now, only a single squad remains, four dusty automatons and a single sorcerous master, bound together by psychic might and undying aggression.

The Silent Host: Mutalith Vortex Beast - : Ammit, Gnawing Souls

The horrifying, mind-wrenching Chaos beast Ammit lurches across the battlefield. Raking claws, lashing tentacles...Mere physical threats pale before the writhing vortex of pure Chaos energy which emanates from the creature's back. Bolts of aether strike out, morphing and slaying whatever they touch. 

Oh, man. This model was really fun to paint. Also really tedious. But mostly really fun. Mutalith beasts are beings of pure Chaos, so getting to go wild with weird color schemes was amazing. Unfortunately, that means I don't entirely know what colors I used to get what effects...

The Silent Host: Scarab Occult Terminators - The Sekhmet

Teleport-striking from the aether with a hissing crackle of ozone, the Terminator-armor clad troops of the Scarab Occult stride forward inexorably. Their heavy plate deflects weapons fire, while their twin-linked bolters tear enemy troops to shreds. Once their steady gait has brought them within melee range, power-bladed khopeshes reap a heavy toll, slicing through bodies like wheat.

The Silent Host: Rhino-Class Vehicles

As the Rhino-class transports Nascentes Morimur and Memento Mori rumble across the battlefield, they are supported from afar by their Predator-class cousin, Omnia Mors Aequat. Once the Rhinos reach their destination and disgorge their deadly payloads of Rubricae, the Predator tank turns its undivided attention to crippling enemy emplacements.

The Silent Host: Cultists - The Saqqrati

Cultists. The great unwashed masses of thralls in servitude to the Silent Host, children of lost Prospero who fight and die in the name of a planet they never knew. Their duty is death, their strength is numbers. Bolstered equally by belief in a shining afterlife and fear of their masters, the Saqqrati are the last link to humanity the Silent Host possess. This fact does not spare the Saqqrati from being fed to the meat grinder of war.

The Silent Host: Rubricae - The Saqqrmose

Rubricae. Ghastly automatons, dust and spirit trapped eternally within a sealed armor shell. Led by aspiring sorcerers of the Silent Host, Rubric Marines stride forward across the battlefields. Unnatural silence accompanies their advance, even the explosive fire of boltguns muffled by the pallor which surrounds these liminal beings.

Rubric Marines are gorgeous models. They're also incredibly frustrating to paint. All the detail of an HQ unit, but the numbers of the Troop choice they are. Let me tell you, once you've painted thirty of these spooky bois, you won't want to paint any more.

The Silent Host: Forgefiend - Taharqa, Baring Fangs

The Forgefiend Taharqa is a fearsome sight. Jaws locked open in a constant grimace, fearsome autocannon scything down enemy troops, immolating tanks with jets of ectoplasmic energy vomited from its internal furnace, Taharqa stalks catlike across the battlefield. Woe unto the mouse.

I didn't take in-progress pictures for this model, as I'm trying a different approach. Additionally, I'd like to note the recurrence of my color philosophy. Black is a color reserved for units which were present at the Burning of Prospero. All Forgefiends postdate the Horus Heresy, and thus, Taharqa does not wear black.

The Silent Host: Contemptor Dreadnought - Heraclitus the Red-Handed

Interred within the mighty walking tomb of a Contemptor-class Dreadnought chassis, the warrior once known as Heraclitus the Red-Handed rages against the dying of the light. Unleashing simmering resentment at being denied the peace of death upon those who oppose the Silent Host, Heraclitus is a force to be reckoned with. Here's how I painted him.

The Silent Host - New Warhammer 40K Project

This is a bit of a prelude to a new project I'm going to be working on. I'm about 1/3 through painting a Thousand Sons army for Warhammer 40,000 and decided I'd like to chronicle the painting process. What's below is the overall background of the army, which informed my color choices, as well as the theory behind those colors.

For context, the Thousand Sons were a legion of soldier-sorcerers who fell to Chaos (the baddies) and now wander the galaxy fighting all manner of aliens, as well as the Imperium (the less-baddies). 

THOUGHT FOR THE DAY: "Death is the wish of some, the relief of many, and the end of all." 

Why So Serious?

Life’s a joke,

A nasty brutish

Buildup to a cosmic punchline:

Us.

POEM: Back-Country Prophecy

I see my life

In the broken-down, sway-back farmhouses

Of the Minnesota backcountry,

Out where no one travels

And only ghosts reside,

Murmuring might-have-beens.