My favorite thing about Warhammer 40k is everything that takes place away from the table. That's not to imply that I don't enjoy the game, just that I absolutely love the process of shopping for, building, and painting the various unit's that go into your army.
By the time a model is on the table with any amount of paint on it you've likely spent hours lovingly crafting it and, if you have an imagination like mine, deciding who that may be under all the armor. Over the past month I have been obsessively researching my favorite Loyalist Space Marine army in the Warhammer 40k universe so I could build a successor chapter that felt both unique and dead on the lore.
For my second army I have chosen to build Iron Hands. The Iron Hands are extreme specialists who have seen their chapter survive through the death of their Primarch, repeated decimation, a near civil war, and 11,000 years of constant total war. This process has not been kind to them. In their current state the Iron Hands are currently fragmented far beyond what other Loyalist chapters would consider acceptable. After the death of their Primarch, mounting losses, and a forced schism this is the only way the Iron Hands can exist: As a scattered cloud of modular Brother-Chapters each led by a Iron Father or Chapter Council of experienced veterans of the great war.
What connects all Iron Hands is culture. Though there is an incredible diversity in the chapter all can agree: The Flesh Is Weak. The failures of the past are the fault of the victims. They, we, were unprepared and weak. It is only through constant study, valiance, and bodily modification that we can be ready for the challenges that lie ahead. Due to this vision the Iron Hands are often bitter hermits who distrust all but themselves and their technology and would prefer to be left alone to tinker. Problems that need solved are solved with mass armor, artillery, and an unsubtle that would make even the Imperial Fists proud.
In short, the Iron Hands are the 40k equivalent of a socially awkward tech worker who has been working from home a little too long and distrusts the outside world. Perfect!
Every Chapter needs a Chapter Father and, in the Iron Hands, those warriors from battles far gone are often veterans who are being kept alive by extensive modifications. Even more extreme, many are encased in the battle-sarcophagi the Space Marines call Dreadnoughts. Dreadnoughts are one of my favorite things in 40k, they are so over the top.
Even the superhuman Space Marines are still mortal and can fall in battle despite legends to the contrary amongst the common people of the Imperium of Man. Dreadnoughts are war incarnate, towering machines that advance forwards with thunderous strides, fiery death roaring from the myriad of heavy weapons mounted on their hulls. They are terrifying foes, fighting with all the skill and ferocity of a Space Marine, but combined with the durability and firepower of a battle tank.
From Dreadnaut
For my Chapter Father I chose to seek out a kit that was modeled after the oldest dreadnoughts I know anything about: the Leviathan Class Dreadnauts that fought in the old war in 30k. They have an even more hulking form, always look stiff to me, and are all shoulders. I love them.
How would a Marine even end up in a Dread that old? It's impossible that they could be from the Old War ... right? Any Dreadnauts that we've met that are even a fraction of that age are completely insane, both the pilot and the machine spirit of the armor. Whats going on here?
In short, I don't know. It will come to me in time and, until then, I get to daydream about my army men.
All I know is an ancient Dreadnaut like this would:
A: Be covered in all manner of battle damage and trophies.
B: Be little more than a brain in a jar encased in armor.
C: Would likely be obsessed with firepower
D: Would not be satisfied to advise.
Therefore I collected the weapons needed to kit this Dread out as a 40k legal ballistics dreadnought, peak among dreadnought firepower. From there I started layering on skulls, candles, graveyard bits, and modeled him stiff as a suit of armor.
Introducing Chapter Father Bronson Lamentious!
A coat of primer is going to go a long way in bringing this guy all together (and hiding that layering issue on the upper shoulders) but I might hit him with a few more bit's before then. All I know is, thus far, I'm in love.
Thanks for reading, friends!