The Emperor’s Redemption, Overlord Class Battlecruiser, The main base of operations for the Redeemed Chapter of Space Marines, in high orbit above the planet Omera Secundus.
Mess hall
Ashriel picked up his tray of daily nutrients and walked into the Mess Hall proper in time to hear Brother Samal say; 
“.. and then he said: but the Bolter was holstered…”
A hearty round of laughter followed brother Samal’s punchline, with Samal himself laughing the hardest.
Ashriel took his customary place at the Champion’s seat of the long table and said his prayer, asking the Emperor for strength before taking a bite of the tasteless nutrient. Out of all of the hardships he had endured since returning to the Emperor’s Light, eating this slop was among the hardest. Ashriel longed for a bowl of hot steaming… anything really, anything was preferable to this slop. He took a bite of the nutrient and immediately heard another yet louder, round of laughter.
The timing was suspicious.
Ashriel turned to look at his battle brothers and scowled when he saw laughing and smiling faces turned his way.
“Oh, Ashriel.” Samal said merrily. “I never get tired of the look on your face every time you eat this swill. You brace like you are facing down a horde of rampaging Orks.”
Ashriel scowled harder.
“Come Brother,” Samal said after the laughter has died down a bit. “Enough of your scowling, I heard you saw our very own glorious leader in action, please, regale of us with a tale.”
Ashriel held his scowl for a few seconds more just on principle then relaxed and said; “Very well, mayhaps my tale might teach you a thing or two about battle, Samal.”

The brothers quieted down, the only sounds to be heard the scraping of eating utensils on metallic nutrient trays, as they eagerly listened to Ashriel’s story of their reclusive Brother Captain.
“My tale starts with the few facts that you all know; how during mid warp travel, Brother Captain Zuriel came onto the bridge and declared that he had received word from the Emperor of an imminent infestation by Great Nurgle on Omera Secundus; a fat agricultural world in an outlying system that the Imperium can barely defend. We immediately came about from our direct course to Holy Terra and reentered the Warp, ready to bring swift death to the enemies of the Emperor… as any good Space Marine would do.”
“What you all do not know” Ashriel clarified, “Is that when we entered in-system we received a Hail from another chapter of fellow battle brothers that apparently arrived before us. Our scans of the planet surface show that they had already established a beach head and have heavily fortified it. The ship’s tech-servitors identified them as the ‘Storm Zealots’ chapter, they pride themselves as masters of … defense.” Ashriel said this last word with distaste.
“Nevertheless, Brother Captain Zuriel returned their hails and demanded that they stand down. We were sent by the Emperor himself, Our mission must supersede any other and whatever spoils there are, it is ours by divine right!”.
“But” Ashriel continued, his voice growing darker, “The square-jawed single-minded patrol-leader of these so called Storm Zealots had the nerve to reject our Brother Captain’s request!”
Angry muttering followed Ashriel’s last statement.
“Yes, yes, I know, only a successor chapter would have the discourtesy and outright gall to treat a respected Brother Captain that way and by rights, Zuriel should be furious! But, and I must admit I am humbled, Brother Captain Zuriel remained calm and attempted to negotiate with the cretin.” Ashriel said, exasperated.
Taking a moment and a swallow of his nutrients, Ashriel continued: “Because of Brother Zuriel’s wisdom in this, an accord was soon struck and a meeting was to be held at the Storm Zealot’s beach head. Brother Captain Zuriel instructed for a small detachment to accompany him; myself, Eremiel’s Squad and Halmeth’s assault marines. Old Amurael insisted on joining the landing party, oh and also that new machine the Tech Marine fixed up, the one we found at Epidermus, remember?”

A round of cautious nods and not a few shudders answered Ashriel’s question.

“We boarded our assault crafts and flew down to the designated landing spot, a clearing just outside of this small city the Storm Zealots have claimed.”

“We touched down, boarded Eremiel’s Rhino and drove to the meeting spot. Old Amurael and the Machine stood guard over our craft while brother Halmeth’s squad took to the skies.”

Ashriel drank to clear his throat.

“The Storm Zealots were waiting for us, not exactly with smiles and hugs, mind you..” Ashriel said, a bit of mirth creeping into his voice. “These new Successor Chapters take themselves much too seriously and the Storm Zealots certainly live up to their name… But I digress”.

“The meeting started well enough, an exchange of polite pleasantries and Data slates regarding the encroaching Nurgle infestation with promises of cooperation and a sharing of the glory. It was all well and good up until Brother Captain Zuriel unfolded his wings…”

Ashriel paused for another swallow, gauging his audience and smiling a bit on the inside at how eager they were.

“The Storm Zealots went livid!” He exclaimed. “Cries of ‘Mutant’ and ‘Heretic’ were thrown, weapons were drawn and fighting formations were adopted”.

“We naturally formed a protective circle around Zuriel while he tried to explain to these cretins that his angelic wings were a gift from Holy Emperor… And it almost worked too.”

Ashriel again paused but this time with a small sidelong look at brother Halmeth.

“That is until Brother Halmeth and his squad came down from the skies to complete our exitus formation. One look at his horns threw them once again, into a foaming rage that Mighty Khorne himself would be proud of”.

A uncomfortable silence descended the mess hall as the Battle Brothers turned to stare at Halmeth and the great curving horns that grew out of his forehead.

Brother Halmeth; ordinarily a stern, unsmiling, non compromising space marine, turned a bright cherry red, cleared his throat and said in a gravelly voice; “But, these horns were a gift too…”

The mess hall erupted into gales of laughter.


After a while, Brother Ashriel continued his story over Halmeth’s uncomfortably red face. “Needless to say, we parted company, the Storm Zealots firing shots as we withdrew back to our landing craft. They only stopped following when Brother Amurael started shooting back. They withdrew then as well, practically dragging their Captain back with them.”

“We were about to lift off when Brother Captain Zuriel went into one of his famous sudden trances. He fell down to his knees with his head bowed, not long after a halo of Golden blue-ish light surrounded his head; a sure sign that The Emperor was talking directly to him”.

“When next Brother Captain Zuriel got up, he turned to look at me with blood-shot red eyes and ordered a full frontal assault.”

Voices of disbelief sounded in the mess hall.

“Yes Brothers, you heard correctly, Brother Captain Zuriel commanded our outnumbered force on a frontal assault of a heavily fortified enemy position, against the superior fire power of an enemy that specializes in defense.”

Discussions erupted along the mess hall as the Brothers debated strategy and tactics, of rules of engagement and conventional wisdom, of sound tactics and obvious answers.

Ashriel turned to look at a Brother who asked a question over the raised talks and, as he answered, the others quieted down to better hear.

“The enemy forces? Yes, they were formidable. The Storm Zealots had a couple of squads deployed in two fortified buildings with overlapping fields of fire and a wide killing field. They also had, steel yourselves Brothers; 2 squads of those new marines. Hulking abominations and an affront to the great works of our Holy Emperor!”.

Angry muttering erupted along the mess hall. The confirmation of rumours of a new type of space marine apparently bringing strong emotions to the front,.. mostly of Hatred.

Ashriel held up a hand to silence the table.

“Brother Captain Zuriel lead us in Prayer then laid out his battle orders; I was to accompany Brother Eremiel’s squad in the Transport that will head straight down the middle of the killing field while Brother Halmeth takes to the sky. A few of our Brothers were instructed to flank on the right, which had the most cover for them to advance thru while the Machine was programed to hold our rear and act as a mobile artillery. Brother Amurael told us that he will support our assault with long range weaponry and keep an eye on the Machine.”

“I took stock of the situation and I estimated that our lone Rhino transport driving alone in-between the two fortified buildings, facing down the whole firepower of the Storm Zealots, would be decimated in minutes, if not seconds. I informed Brother Zuriel of this fact and of my concerns; but all he did was looked straight in my eyes and said in that melodious voice of his; ‘Have Faith in the Emperor, Ashriel.'”

“What more could I say to that? I resigned myself to die gloriously and so I said my prayers and checked my Bolter.”

Taking another mouthful of his nutrients, Ashriel bit, swallowed and continued with his story; “We started the battle with speed and precision fire. Brother Captain Zuriel flying just behind the transport, we headed straight in between the two reinforced strongholds, the Brothers and I not strapped in but in exitus immediatum position as per Brother Captain Zuriel’s instructions.

“When our transport crashed thru an abandoned building into their killing field, the Storm Zealots opened fire with everything they had. Shot after shot of red hot plasma seared off our armor until a final shot from a Lascannon took our tracks and the green light of ‘Deploy’ shone on the inner transport door.”

“We did not panic of course, we are the Dark Angels of His Holy Emperor after all. We deployed from the doomed transport and moved straight into combat formation delta. Brother Gamail was a hero that day, taking point and firing his bolter from the hip as he ran straight into enemy fire”.

“We ran toward the enemy as hard as we could, shouting our Litanies of Death for last the few moments we had to live when suddenly a giant shadow pass over us, Brother Zuriel was flying high and drawing the enemy’s fire!”

Nods of approval and hand thumping were heard from the table as the Brothers appreciated this selfless act.

“As we neared the enemy’s position,” Ashriel continued, “I saw that Brother Amurael’s Lascannons and Missiles have had an effect; he has torn an entry hole for us in the building we designated as ‘Bravo’.”

“My vox-link crackled to life and Brother Zuriel gave the order to attack Bravo. I myself saw him fold his wings and swooped into the entry hole, slaying those new marines with the Black Sword of the Lion as he landed.”

Ashriel’s voice took a more fervent tone as he told of what he saw. “It was beautiful to behold Brothers, Captain Zuriel’s movements were graceful, moving from enemy to enemy in a dance of death. Nothing seemed able to touch him. Our Brother Captain is a testament of the ingenuity and superior craftsmanship of our Holy Emperor as he put paid to those abominations.”

Ashriel paused and for a moment, a strangely adoring look crossed his battle hardened face.

He visibly shook himself and continued his tale. “As we entered the building to support Brother Captain Zuriel, The effect of this crazy headlong charge became clear to me. The moment we engaged the enemy, the shooting from Building ‘Alpha’ stopped. The enemy were afraid of mistakenly shooting their own and it had the positive effect of cutting down half their firepower.” Ashriel paused again then said in a small voice filled with wonder; “It was a brilliant plan.”

Cheers rang out along the Mess Hall.

“The battle was a haze after that brothers, as you all know how these things tend to become. I remember Brother Captain Zuriel taking on a squad of marines himself, I remember cutting down an over zealous (hah!) enemy attacking me with a knife, I remember brother Halmeth smashing through the back of the building where the Zealots were hunkering, waiting for their chance to shoot down our captain, I remember their leader smashing his way out of the building, looking for space so he can swing his oversized thunder hammer, I remember cutting the cretin down from behind as Brother Captain Zuriel taunted him.”

“The battle was short but it was a glorious, it was honorable and we took the day through the tactical genius of our Brother Captain. It was his plan to isolate and completely destroy one portion of the enemy, negating their superior numbers and firepower at the minimal cost of a machine spirit of the Rhino.”

The battle brothers cheered, clanking their mugs together as they laughed and celebrated tale.

“The Machine? Oh, I heard that the Storm Zealots called for reinforcements from their assault cruiser in orbit and a drop pod containing a squad of marines landed near it.”

Ashriel paused a second and smiled, “You all know how that ended, the tortured wailing from it’s machine spirit should’ve been enough of a warning for them but they were marines through and through. They stood their ground and fired shot after shot into it. We have to give them their dues brothers, they fought bravely as a space marine should and they died to a man, ripped apart by the Machine.”

Ashriel paused one more time, swallowing his last spoonful of nutrients.

“And there you have it brothers,” Ashriel said, lowering his head. “With my own eyes, I saw Brother Captain Zuriel perform miracles in the Emperor’s name, he spoke directly to Him, he was protected by His Divine Will and in the end, Zuriel was even merciful to the foe; allowing the Storm Zealot’s commander a proper burial, taking no trophies at all.”

When Ashriel next raised his head,he spoke with conviction and his eyes were lit with the fire of fanatical devotion.

“Thus endeth my tale brothers, tomorrow we embark on the cleansing of Omera Secundus from the taint of Nurgle with no further interference from other competing chapters. This fight is ours alone, the Glory is ours alone, …Praise the Emperor!”

Cheers followed this proclamation by Brother Ashriel, former sergeant of the Dark Angels and now Champion of the Redeemed Chapter of the Space Marines.

War is what happens when language fails” – Margaret Atwood


A Short Story: The Redeemed

To continue the article on Fluff, here is a short story I made for an army of Fallen Dark Angels: The Redeemed who insist on calling themselves Dark Angels again (confused Chaos Marines FTW). It was used during a campaign we did at our LGS.

Anyway, without further ado:

Flight of the Fallen

Brother Sergeant Ashriel checked around the mound of rubble and signaled the “All-clear” sign. His squad of veteran battle brothers fan out of the ruined Imperial building, scanning the area and covering each others back with the easy confidence that only a millenium of warfare and camaraderie can achieve.

“Brother Ashriel, the teleport beacon is ready.”


“Target is locked, getting a clear signal through the auspex, waiting for Verification”

“Very well, confirm verification before the teleport this time Gamail, we don’t want another Harakan incident now do we?”

“We survived that didn’t we, brother?” asked Gamail, the smile in his voice carried through the vox-link at the memory of the “incident”.

“Only by the grace of His divine light Gamail…, and of brother Zamael’s Havocs entering the same building that we happened to be in when the Ultramarine’s Terminators mistakenly teleported to us instead of our own brother terminators.”

A light tap on the helmet of each brother in the squad the only outward indication of a hearty round of laughter at that shared memory.

“Well, it was fortuna… hold! Receiving multiple return signals on the auspex. Multiple incomings, hostile! They are on a converging course.”

“Very well” Answered Ashriel calmly, “Brothers, weapons are free but engage targets of opportunity only, conserve your ammo.”

Switching his armor’s vox-link channels with a thought, Ashriel contacts the rest of his exploratory expedition situated a bit further behind his small scouting force;

“Brothers, we move to teleport location Beta, Alpha has been compromised. Brother Halmeth, your Raptors are to provide covering fire for Samal’s squad who shall remain in their Rhino until ordered to engage, understand Samal? No heroics this time.”

“Agreed.” Halmeth’s rough gravely voice answered over the sound of his jump engines.

“Affirmative, though I liked you better when you weren’t so uptight Ashriel” Answered Samal’s melodious and light hearted voice, “Returning to the Emperor does not mean you don’t enjoy the small things in life brother, though perhaps not to the amount we used to do.”

Ashriel did not even deign a reply. The last few days weigh heavily on his mind. The exploratory force was supposed to encounter only light resistance but so far they have blundered into a force of former Battle Brothers, a sorcerer of Mighty… no, it’s wretched now, Wretched Tzeentch, a Tau force complete with battlesuits and an Eldar force that featured dancing clowns who gave the Brothers a bloody nose.

The list of enemies of the Emperor grows daily it seems… but, as it was once a long time ago and as it will be in the future, it is Ashriel’s solemn duty as a Dark Angel Space Marine to be the mailed fist of His Divine wrath, the first to meet His challengers where ever they may be.

Shaking himself out of his contemplation, Ashriel opened his armor’s vox-link and addressed his Battle Brothers;

“Brothers, once again the enemy is upon us.”

“They think us weak.”

“They think us defeated.”

“They think us easy prey.”

“They think us forsaken of His Light.”

“They know nothing.”

“We have been given a chance at redemption.”

“For once again,”

“We feel the warmth of His Presence.”

“For once again,”

“We fight in His name.”

“Brothers, once again,”




“For the Emperor!”


“Let your plans be dark and impenetrable as night, and when you move, fall like a thunderbolt.” ― Sun Tzu, The Art of War

The Liberation of Epdermus

From his vantage point on the top of a small rise behind the central offensive line, Brother Ashriel looks out across the battlefield and smiled. The attack on the traitor’s last fortification is going well; The Dark Angels’ center, even though outnumbered by the traitors 5 to 1, is pushing the traitors back with superior fire discipline, laying a massive amount of suppressing fire while advancing slowly through the ruble of what was once the Spire City of Epdermus.

Over the course of three weeks, the Dark Angels have systematically pushed back the traitors to this position; a city on the edge of a cliff side. The traitors have retreated to their last bastion on this beleaguered world. The huge city has been adequately fortified by the Traitors, turning it into a defensible position but it is clear to Ashriel that the traitors’ commander did not even consider that he might be fighting for his very survival here.

Turning to survey the right flank Ashriel heard an amplified howling laughter and his smile grew wider; Brother Amurael is gleefully firing salvo after salvo of krak missiles into the Traitors’ gun emplacements. Ever since the techmarines took off the twin Powerclaws from brother Amurael’s Dreadnaught chassis and replaced them with a Missile Launcher and Lascannon; Brother Amurael has somewhat mellowed out. He is far less likely to charge the enemy position regardless of the odds and now would much prefer to stand back and shoot them down before moving in to crush them under his metal foot plates.

The detachment of Havocs Ashriel put in the right flank is doing a dutiful job of supporting brother Amurael’s assault, firing heavy bolter rounds into the enemy to keep them occupied and disoriented. “Soon…” Thought Ashriel as he turns away to look at the left flank; “Soon they will break”.

The salvaged Dark Angels Imperial Basilisk on the left flank has been bombarding the Traitors’ position since morning and although it is protected by the nearby woods, there is nothing else on the left flank but a lone Dark Angels Predator tank to guard it. Ashriel can see that the traitor’s commander has seen this weakness in his lines and is moving troops to exploit it; guerrilla fighters are even now emerging from the woods carrying bombs and grenades to engage and probably destroy the Basilisk and Predator. With the Left flank gone, the Traitors will have broken through the Dark Angels’ lines and can attack Ashriel’s forces from behind, effectively boxing in the Dark Angels between their fort and army. Ashriel must act now to snatch victory from defeat.

Grim faced, his smile all but forgotten, Ashriel scans the Traitor’s lines to be sure of the enemy’s disposition before issuing his orders. Elements are moving from the right flank to the left, probably to anticipate the destruction and consequent breakthrough on the Dark Angels’ left flank, and to escape brother Amurael’s furious assault. The enemy’s central elements look to be holding for now but they will soon be overwhelmed by the Battle Brothers steady and disciplined assault.

Satisfied that everything is moving according to Brother-Captain Zuriel’s design, Ashriel activates his inter-armor link.

“Brother Halmeth, the traitors have reached the kill-zone.”

From behind the central offensive, in a hidden position behind some walls, Brother Halmeth’s gravelly voice comes over the growl of his assault group’s activated jump-packs; “About time.”

“Strike, brother,” Answered Ashriel; “Show them the Emperor’s wrath.”

Roaring with unadulterated rage, the nine man assault team lead by Brother Halmeth came into Ashriel’s view, soaring over the battlefield to land in the midst of the surprised flanking Traitors. Brother Halmeth himself landed directly on top of a traitor, crushing him under the weight of his power armor. Blood and brain matter spraying his armor, turning it red with the first kill. His Jump-pack turned off without a thought; Brother Halmeth began laying about him; each swipe of his chain-axe taking a limb or head, each bolt pistol shot knocking a traitor from his feet. Halmeth roared a sky splitting roar over the kills and started to enter a state of semi-conscious killing frenzy, his warriors following suit. The nine assault marines hacked and butchered the flanking force.

Brother Ashriel saw the slaughter on the left flank and hoped that Brother Halmeth remembers his orders. The state of semi-conscious frenzy that the brother assault marines enter is not something that Ashriel understands nor does he want to. As long as they perform their duties, the end result very much justifies the means. After all, their former… allegiance… did not care much on whose blood was spilt as long as blood was spilt.

The destruction of the traitors flanking force by brother Halmeth’s marines took a direct impact on the traitor’s lines; it wavered and stopped moving to the left; most probably fearful and a little intimidated. Tanks and other fast moving elements milled about confused somewhere in the middle of the lines while the right flank is still moving back from brother Amurael’s assault.

“A brilliantly planned assault, Brother-Captain Zuriel” Thought Ashriel begrudgingly, “With the Traitors crushed on the Left Flank and the ones on the right flank being pushed back, they have come into the killing assault of my Battle Brothers in the middle from which there will be no escape, yes… brilliant.”

“Well” Ashriel thought, shaking himself out of his musings; “It is out of my hands now, the lines have met. But at least it gets simple from here on out.”

Striding down to the center of the battlefield, he activated his helmet’s vox-link and gave his command squad the order to engage.


“Appear weak when you are strong, and strong when you are weak.” – Sun Tzu, The Art of War

Warmachine & Hordes 101: Preparing Yourself for a Tournament

Hey guys, I’m back! Been a while since I last made an article for Warmachine & Hordes, but I finally I made enough time for myself to do it. In this article I would like to talk about how to prepare yourself for an upcoming tournament. If your goal is to do your best in a tournament, this article is for you. So, without further ado..

Continue reading “Warmachine & Hordes 101: Preparing Yourself for a Tournament”

A Short Story: The Redeemed II

The Liberation of Epdermus


From his vantage point on the top of a small rise behind the central offensive line, Brother Ashriel looks out across the battlefield and smiled. The attack on the traitor’s last fortification is going well; The Dark Angels’ center, even though outnumbered by the traitors 5 to 1, is pushing the traitors back with superior fire discipline, laying a massive amount of suppressing fire while advancing slowly thru the ruble of what was once the Spire City of Epdermus.

Continue reading “A Short Story: The Redeemed II”


Greetings Fellow Generals!

One of the better parts of this niche hobby of ours is the fact that each miniature you own (and hopefully, paint) is part of a greater army and that each army has its own history of wins and losses, Victories and defeats, Heroes and cowards. That army is uniquely your own, no other person on the planet has that exact same army that you put on the battlefield time and again, sure he might have the same minis and copy the exact army list but that’s the superficial. What makes a tabletop army, An Army, is it’s back story (or as some call it: “fluff”).

Continue reading ““Fluff””

The Paint Rack: New Year!

Greetings fellow warriors!

New Year it is, happy we are!

Well, it’s a new year and we at the Paint Rack (yes, that’s the royal “we”) would like to wish you all a very happy new year, may your brush always be sharp, may your paint always flow and may your blending always be smooth

The last minis I painted in 2016, called them done at exactly 11:30 hehehe… what was yours?

“I have not yet begun to fight” – John Paul Jones

The Bard’s Corner: Is This The Right Game for Me?

On the first episode of the Bard’s Corner I’m going to talk about whether or not tabletop RPGs suits you or not. Because, to be completely honest, it’s not a game for everyone. Considering the time and effort it takes to play even a single game (which generally takes a few hours), it’s important to make sure that you’re not wasting your time; because time is a precious commodity for anyone, let alone adult hobbyists with a full time job.

Continue reading “The Bard’s Corner: Is This The Right Game for Me?”