+ inload: Endworlds +

+ Whatever happened to Barbari Kills? +

The cover was up. For whatever reason, humans did not adapt well to the empty night skies of the galaxy's rim. Haim felt it. They all had; though in different ways. She had tried to explain it to Brunski, a few weeks back, as the ship glided silently through the black, empty void. 

"Like... being watched; but not enough? Do you–" She had paused; started again. "It's just as though there's nothing holding me down; no anchor. Nothing secure. It's all too..." she had waved her hands in slow, loose, frustrated circles. 

Brunski had just grunted, got up and left.

+++

Lowering her weatherhood, she cast a glance over her shoulder. A nod to Brunski saw him holster his rifle. He and Castaway turned and went back out; hoods up, eyes down. 

The sign read, in the peculiar glyphs of the backwater, 'Teleroftaels'. It wasn't hard to see the derivation – particularly not for an ideodact like Haim. Teller of tales. A village bard, then, she supposed; some sort of archivist, she dared to hope. A job as old as humanity. 

From the rear of the spare, stone building, came a voice. "Come; come." The voice was surprisingly deep, and rich; though it was cut through with a scratch. Haim was reminded, for a brief, absurd moment, of her father's audiorepeater. "The arrangement details are all in order; you are well come here." 

The woman's smile was warm; her skin folded and tanned like soft leather. Her head was shaved completely bald, save for two tufts at the other edges of her eyes, where the remnants of her eyebrows had been extended into short, beaded braids. A bold stripe, darker brown than the rest of her skin, ran over the crest of her head. Paint? Make-up? Some sort of tattoo? 

If she noticed Haim's vacant look, the teleroftael's face showed no sign. Her smile remained soft, unwavering. 

"Ti?" 

Haim blinked, and embarrassedly demurred the offer; waving away the proffered cup. The water here required adaptation. Inquisitrix Barbari Kills hadn't intended to stay longer than was necessary; and so nor did her team. 

"No, no; thank you. Do you mind if–?" Haim gestured at her own flask, securely gathered on her webbing. The teleroftaels nodded permission. You'll have my gratitude for information, rather than refreshment, mam. Even so; thank-you." At the other woman's gesture, Haim looked for a place to sit. There was a brief, awkward pause before the teleroftaels smiled apologetically, and lifted aside a pile of soiled textiles from what turned out to be a low bench.

Stepping back, the teleroftaels squinted gnomically, assessing Haim. The moment stretched. Just before Haim spoke, the teleroftaels announced, "You'll be want the history." 

Haim nodded. Odd phrasing, but for such an isolated region, it was reassuring to find anyone that spoke anything resembling Gothic. Most of the populations Corewards of Saxa Tarpeia had been utterly incomprehensible to Kills and her team. 

"Thank you, yes. Solid form if you have it. I tell you," she continued. "It's been a hell of a time getting any cartography or records of this entire region." The teleroftael's smile broadened, perhaps in pride. Haim carried on. "It's such a relief to find an historical repository. Even if it's just the local... " She stopped herself as she watched the teleroftaels shuffle backwards towards the back of the room; clearly uncomfortable with  turning her back on her guest. "Sorry; I'm gabbling. It's been a long search. I'm just excited. Should I ask my colleague to help carry them?"

The teleroftael's smile slipped for a moment; wrong-footed. Haim wondered if she had strayed over some cultural boundary. 

"Not think that'll be needed."

Unsure, Haim made a small half-hearted nod; and the teleroftaels disappeared behind a curtain. 

+++

"Rimworlds, you Imperials call 'em. Most here just call it Edgeside. Out beyond the galaxy's rim. It's an... odd place. Liminal; know what I mean? Out beyond it's the big black. Just nothing. Sounds simple when I say that, but it's..." she paused. "Heh. Comes to something when even my words fall into the black."

"Like I say, it's odd. The big black. It's the end of it all, see? Sure, there's other galaxies out there, but they're just like us. Little island universes gradually wearing away. And make no mistake –" she waved a finger in the Rogue Trader's face, "It sure is wearing away." She paused, looking out of the colossal window once more. "Look far enough, and you can see it happening. Slowly, sure, and dust – just dust. Trickling away from the galaxy's edge into the true void. But nothing comes back in."

Her faraway gaze suddenly switched; as though a lever had gone off in the back of her mind. Fear. That was all Taiwo saw in her eyes.

"Nothing you want to meet, anyway."

+++

+ inload: Painting Inquisitrix Barbari Kills +

+ Inquisitrix Barbari Kills +

 There's subtlety in the application of the Emperor's will – just as there's good hard work in interpreting it. 

'Righteousness, willpower, divine grace... You'll hear them all used as justifications for why you should do as an Inquisitor says; but right now, the fact I've got an n-point discharge derringer pressed to your forehead is all I need.'

+++

+ Well, all painted up and ready to wage a one-woman war on the Endworlds – I'm pleased with how Barbari Kills has come out. My notes on building the conversion are here [+noosphericinloadlink embedded+], so I'll concentrate on painting in this inload. +

+ The first thing you'll notice is the drab scheme. The plan was for the poncho to be a muted brown leather, with a bright inner lining – the idea being that this anonymous-looking figure suddenly threw back her cloak to reveal a big gun and bright colours. In the end, I think I got a bit carried away with the detailing and washes on the lining, so it's more muted than I had intended. +

+ The heraldic ermine pattern has got a bit lost, and has ended up looking a bit blurry... but them's the breaks when you experiment. I'm still pleased with the result, which has plenty of impact and contrast, if not precisely how I'd planned it! +

+ The face came out well, I felt. I've experimented with a lot of different skintones in the Gatebreaker project, but with the marines I'm guaranteed a contrasting tone near the face owing to the quartered bright yellow and dark green scheme. Not so here, so I had to work carefully to make sure her dark skin didn't get lost against the fabric. Note the embroidered details on her collar (touches of freehand help to identify something as non-skin), and the use of the brighter inner lining of the cloak near the collar, too. +

+ A few flashes of colour are dotted around the figure to make things slightly less realistic and more obviously sci-fi: the orange band on the gun; the gold Inquisition symbol on her loincloth; the red rubricising (see what I did there?) and bookmark ribbon on the book; and – of course – her blue hair. +

+ Typically, eye-catching 'hot spots' are bright, warm colours; but as long as they contrast with the overall scheme, they can be any colour. The scheme here as a whole is a warm sepia-yellow tint; almost nicotine-stained. Blue (or green, or pink) would all work to contrast. +

+ The image above shows the skin best, too. Subtle spot-glazes of red applied to the lower lip and cheeks are all that are needed to give a healthy complexion. Kills doesn't strike me as a striking make-up sort of girl. +

+ Another little flash of red; the Inquisitorial sigil of the Ordo Propter. Again, hidden beneath the cloak until the dramatic reveal. Note the profusion of pouches and webbing; I wanted Barbari Kills to look prepared for anything. This shot shows the ermine decoration on the cloak a little better, too. +

+ The basing is similar to most I do; a warm brown highlighted up with cream, then dotted with a mix of flock tufts and scatter foliage. +

+ ... and here she is pictured alongside Castaway, Coriolanus and Septival. She's starting to build up a little entourage. I must return to Haim and Brunski soon. +

+ inload: Building Inquisitrix Barbari Kills +

+ Inquisitrix Barbari Kills +

'If you have good sense, you'll quietly put this book back where you found it and creep away. You'll find more questions than answers inside – and that's exactly what got me started pulling on a thread that led to this accursed rosette.'

– Preface to Inquisitor B. Kills' Comments, 1st edition

'If you find, written in my obituary, that I led a blameless life, look for the footnote. I'd like it made clear that I regard being blameless as an act of cowardice bordering on deviance. Every moral agent must make account for her actions – that is, after all, at the root of the Inquisition's mission.'

'Oh, and make sure that I'm buried with my boots and a knife – y'know, just in case.'  

– Preface to Inquisitor B. Kills' Comments, 2nd edition

+++

+ Models of characters +

+ It's always tricky making a model of a character you like, and Kills has a healthy dose of humour and punky irreverence that makes her quite refreshing for this fairly po-faced setting. On top of that, quite a lot of the narrative of my little corner of 40k revolves around a scant few characters, of which Kills is one. Clearly I had my work cut out. +

+ When in such a situation, one approach is to call for back-up. Working out who your character works with is often easier, as this supporting cast can be much simpler archetypes – the medic, the soldier, the brute, the wizard, the bard. By making these, you immediately start to explore their relationship with the central character, which goes some way to cast light on the way you can portray them. +

+ Practicality and adaptation are keywords for Kills – what better companion to reflect that than a Squat? Coriolanus and Septival similarly serve to blend the Inquisitor in with the broader army.  These characters fill different spaces around the character, and start to fill things in by reflecting on her. +

+ For example, I initially toyed with having Kills in long robes, but the more I built her entourage, the more I felt she needed more of an action pose. The poncho suggested itself, and that became the keystone to the conversion. +

+ Regular inloaders might remember Brunski and Haim, another two followers. They have models sketched out, but I'm considering revising them in light of Kills' completed model. Keeping things flexible and fluid enough to respond to changes is useful. +

+ Anyway, once you've got an image in your mind, it's time to pick a model. You may be lucky and find something stock that requires only a little tweaking, but I really enjoy going all out on my Inquisitors (Unfortunus Veck is another example [+noosphericinloadlink embedded+]), and pushing my skills to best reflect the unique qualities of these exceptional individuals.  In particular, I'm very keen that these conversions fit two criteria:

• They look unique – while parts might be identifiable, I don't want it to be immediately recognisable as a conversion of another model. Ideally, it should look like a model you could buy, rather than a conversion.
• It gets the character of the figure across.

+ The results are below, so I'll leave you to judge whether I've been successful! +

+ The poncho is the most obvious thing here, and I think it is doing a lot of the heavy lifting in terms of composition. It adds dynamism and movement to an otherwise fairly staid pose, and creates a sense of drama; suggesting the pistol has just been whipped out from beneath it. Secondly, it reveals something about the setting: it has a frontier feel, like a cowboy or prospector. This is backed up with the heavy boots and practical all-weather clothing. Finally, it being blown up reveals a mass of unusual equipment and pouches, which speak to Kill's self-reliance and preparedness. +

+ Complementing the revealed pistol is the Inquisitorial rosette – Kills strikes me as the sort of Inquisitor who realises that by the time you reveal your identity, it's best to have a gun drawn too! I also liked the fact that the rosette would normally be hidden beneath the poncho; again telling us something about her character and methods. +

+ The pistol is a good example of hiding the provenance of something. The stock bit is from the Primaris apothecary, but trimming away the bells and whistles leaves it as a simple, stocky, brutal-looking handgun. +

+ It's worth noting that this is pre-greenstuff. It's been too hot to work comfortably recently, and in any case, it's sometimes nice to step back, consider the figure in front of you, and build a plan before ploughing on with putty. Having a bit of breathing space can help you see the composition more objectively. +

+ I'm tempted to do some hair; perhaps something asymmetrical, to distance the head from the stock bit. At the very least I'll fill in the hole left by trimming away the back socket; and likely fill in a couple of the boles in the poncho. +

+ Visible here, attached to her belt, is her extendable power maul. Besides being easily hidden, I thought this brutal club seemed much more in keeping with Kills' slightly punky character than an elegant sword. It's also a nice nod to the Gatebreakers, the army with which she is associated for this project. +

+ The book, I think, is an important prop – it stops her looking too 'combatty'. She is, after all, an Inquisitor (or Inquisitrix, to use her preferred appellation), and her role is primarily investigative. +

+ Overall, I'm really pleased with how she came together. The conversion work itself was time-consuming, but it's so satisfying when parts that you've identified end up working together well. As mentioned above, while I'm going to go in with some greenstuff, there's not nearly as much gap-filling and sculpting work necessary as I had initially planned for. +

+ For those interested: Van Saar upgrade head; neck and collar from Necromunda Enforcers, along with the maul and most of the pouches; Elysian left arm and hand; right arm is from a Frostgrave cultist, I think; right hand is from the Elysian Valkyrie passenger kit; upper torso and poncho from the Genestealer gunfighter character; abdomen and legs from a Blood Bowl Dark Elf linewoman; rosette is from the Luminark/Hurricanum kit; and the pistol, as mentioned above, is from the Primaris apothecary kit. +

+ Creating your own character +

+ If you're making your own model, you can, of course, buy everything new, but besides being ruinously expensive – the infamous 'wallet-bleed' class conversions – I find my creativity is channelled best by the challenge of limitations. Necessity is the mother of invention, after all, and starting to work with bits you already have will often guide you down a route you wouldn't otherwise have found. +

+ Most of the parts used for Kills (indeed, most of my projects!) are thus spares, left over from other projects. If there is a critical bit (like the poncho here), then check bits sites or second-hand swap shops as a first port of call. You are, after all, going to cut them up substantially, so a cheap, damaged model can be just as useful for parts as a new on sprue one, after a bit of cleaning up. +

+ Finally, it's worth pointing out that most of these pieces could be easily substituted for much the same effect. Dig through your bits boxes or have a chat with your friends – the Enforcer sprue was a swap with Ilmarinen, and the right arm came from a giant bag o' plague bits Lucifer216 kindly gave me, left over from his own Death Guard project. +

+++

+ I hope that she matches up with your mental images from the colour text that's she's appeared in. I'd love to hear what you think. +

+ inload: Septival and Coriolanus +

+ The Tenets of the Ten Divine Princes +

Septival and Coriolanus, Kills' attendant Space Marine bodymen, no longer looked alike. Two years of hard fighting on the nebulous frontier had seen the pair adapt to the realities of their new situation. During the counter-invasion of Munda Ostiona, Septival had been honoured by Gnostic Deacon for ferocity in the face of the brutalist Rhigim. It seemed to Kills that he wore his relic plate with a swollen chest; still more upright than before.

It was more than mere armour detail, though. During the brief period the Ninth Strikeforce had operated alongside the Chapter Master's own Strikeforce, in patrols of the Shin-Xiao Expanse, Coriolanus had been seconded to Sho's own force – pointedly, it appeared to the Inquisitor; as though the Master was goading her. On his return, the space marine had a slightly different air. Not openly evasive, but his words seemed more considered. Kills wondered whether she was unconsciously reacting to him differently.

'The Tenets, mistress? We have spoken of this before.' His head, still shorn in the style of the Core, was unhelmed. Adaptive souls, these Primaris, Haim had mused, privately. Her acolyte was right. Every day the two groups of Gatebreakers seemed to become more alike. Under the auspices of Yeng and his fellow Gentles of the apothecary, more and more of the Astartes were undergoing the Rubicon process. As the resulting ruinous casualty rating climbed, the Primaris were integrated into Strikeforces, and then squads; rooting themselves more deeply in their adopted place.

Conversely, the Primaris were finding what the old Chapter had long-known – that resupply was rare and supply lines were thin. Practicality saw weapons swapped for more reliable and plentiful alternatives, and the techpriest-led forges were hard at work adapting to the new armoury.

'We have; and I ask again,' replied Kills to Coriolanus. 'You were a devotee of the Codex prior to your deployment. Why the change?' The space marine's face remained blank.

'It is no change, Inquisitor.' He replied, mildly. 'The Tenets are a form of the Codex; and can be read alongside them. More literary, perhaps, but the fundamentals of adaptat...' 

'I see little evidence of cross-comparison, Coriolanus,' the Inquisitor interrupted. 'Your time seems hard-spent in transcribing the Tenets.'

The space marine looked pained. 'That is true, Inquisitor. There is, however, nothing to hide. I have long ago committed the Codex to memory, while the Tenets remain raw to me.'

'Agreed, mistress. The discipline of our Chapter is not competing with that of our training.' Septival put in, 'It complements and alloys with it.'

Kills was sceptical, but not suspicious. She had requested – and been granted – leave to study both her bodymen's nascent copies of the Tenets. They were filled merely with the aphorisms and bon mots of generations of Andocrine wisdom; long-dead sages and warrior-poets. It was hardly great literature, to the Inquisitrix's taste, but she could see its value in teaching interpretation to the indoctrinated. 

Kills was no monodominant. She had long ago concluded that the practicalities of Imperium meant that faith and loyalty trumped almost any trespass in style; doubly so for an entity as independent as a space marine Chapter. Alongside her historilogician Haim, Kills had read through the Tenets, and found no sinister trace of heresy amongst the prose and verse. Although the conception of the Primarchs as Divine Princes – and ten of them – had initially unnerved her, she had been reassured by their occluded relationship to the orthodox teachings of the Ecclesiarchy. 

In the Lay of Hayagriever, for example, the Gatebreaker's symbolist tale of a Divine Prince invariably – and gratingly repetitively – described as 'swift, secretive and powerful', Haim had teased out roots familiar to those told in the wider Imperium attributed to Corvus Corax or Jaghati Khan. The name of the first Divine Prince; Kali-Bahn, had similarly raised a smirk of satisfied recognition on the Inquisitor's face. Others were more troublesome. Chemos, the proud and quick to anger Fourth Prince, had raised concern, but Kills' concerns over the dubious associations had been somewhat allayed by the clear blending of tales of Ferrus Manus with his traitorous brother. She would not sanction a Chapter over veiled myths – indeed, she judged that raising an alarm would more likely highlight and spread the problem as resolve it.

As for the others... 'Well,' Kills had said to her acolyte, 'as much as is strange about the surface; the core has survived.' 

'Mutatis mutandis, Barbari.' Haim had agreed. 'The Gatebreakers' ways are odd, but such might be explained by cultural drift typical of their isolation.'

The memory reassured Kills, but she was far from equianimous. It was not the form of the Tenets that bothered Barbari; but the change in Coriolanus since his return.

+++

+ Work in progress: Septival and Coriolanus +

+ Ideas sometimes stem from writing, and these two marines are a perfect example. Introduced to give Kills someone to interact with in her first story, these two have played on my mind. They're symbols of Chapter 333's integration with the Gatebreakers – or to put it another way, they're 'normal' Primaris space marines who serve to introduce us to the Gatebreakers culture. +

+ Being Primaris from the Core Imperium, I gave them both typical Latin-dervied High Gothic names. When I decided to build them, I wanted to blend the clean lines of the Primaris intake with some of the more rough-and-ready elements of the original Gatebreakers. +

+ Member-Ordinary Coriolanus +

+ To that end, Coriolanus is virtually stock Primaris, but with a substitute boltgun for his bolt rifle, and with additional charms on his belt. He has removed his helm – a reduction in battlefield discipline, but it reveals a clean, shaven head and stereotypical space marine colouring. +

+ Member-Ordinary Septival +

+ Septival is outwardly more integrated with the Gatebreakers, replacement shoulder and chest plates marking him as honoured. +

+ Both require detailing – markings, some more work on Coriolanus' boltgun, and basing – but they're nearly ready to join their brethren. I'll likely add some form of mark to indicate their status as Inquisitrix Barbari Kills' bodyguards. Perhaps an Inquisitorial I, or similar. + 

+++

+ Thought for the day: 'Cherish those hearts that hate thee// Corruption wins not more than honesty.' +

+ inload: Who is Sho? +

+ Killing Quarters +

Closing her eyes, Kills tipped her head back, easing the strain in her neck. She breathed out. Eyes still closed, she took a sip of water from the tumbler in her hand. Never tasted the same planetside, she thought, no matter the planet, no matter the sector. Finishing the water, she stood, grimacing. Nor the segmentum, for that matter. She suddenly felt very small, very isolated. Drawing herself up, she shook off the feeling.

Restlessly, she paced across her quarters. There was nothing for it. It was time to consult the Rogue Trader. Taiwo might be a supercilious bastard, but he was too canny not to have deployed an agent or two in amongst the work crews the Gatebreakers had requested. That in itself was unusual. Two years into the deployment, and this was the first request the Chapter had made of the expedition.

In that time, the Primaris of Chapter 333 had seemingly been integrated into the Gatebreakers. From Haim and Brunski's reports, the two groups operated together very successfully. Kills knew of thirteen primary engagements that the 9th had made; and that was just in the Strikeforces to which she had attached her acolytes. Throne alone knew how many of them there were – the Gatebreakers certainly weren't forthcoming on that.

Kills peered out of the viewport for some time, brooding over her lack of knowledge of the Chapter, before finally throwing her mantle around her shoulders and setting out. 

Setting a smart pace down the corridors of the flagship, ratings and servants saluted or genuflected as she passed. She barely acknowledged them. Both of her principal aides had been injured during the sortie with the Sabact, so she keyed in an order to Castaway to meet with her. That would require shuttle time.

How had things changed? After the initial wariness, the Chapter had seemed to welcome the intake of Primaris, directing all contact with the Rogue Trader's fleet through them – as a mark of respect, the mysterious Master Sho had reportedly said, and to avoid unintended cultural misunderstandings. Within weeks, Scipius had begun to demur requests for audiences, claiming his warrior-monks required a period of solitude alongside their new brethren, in order better to integrate.

Kills brooded as she marched. On the surface, the integration was a success. Chapter 333 was no more; the Primaris and Astartes of the Gatebreakers Chapter were as one. Their activity across the region was huge – wherever the Rogue Trader's vessels travelled, Gatebreaker ships accompanied them. Seemingly long-lost worlds were being recovered; alien forces pushed back.

On the other hand, the Inquisitor brooded, the gifting of a thousand battle brothers of the Adeptus Astartes to so insular a group, under the mastership of such an enigmatic figure as Sho, set her mind on edge. It was infuriating. She knew so much about the individual Gatebreakers she'd met – virtually every one had submitted willingly to the most trival minutiae in her acolyte's interviews – and yet so little about the Chapter's workings. Most pressing of all: Where were the rest of them?

The return of the Rogue Trader's fleet from their exploration of the region to anchorage around Andocrine was an opportunity to find out.

+++

The Rogue Trader's ready room was as lavish as the rest of his ship, but Kills had no patience for the luxury, nor the staff. At Taiwo's nod, they dispersed. Kills watched until the last of the staff had left, and the doors had closed. He gestured to a seat, but she demurred. Smiling, the Rogue Trader stood up, his manner easy, but radiating confidence. He began to walk around the large room, and Kills fell in beside him.

"You rarely attend me for pleasure, Barbari; so let us dispense with pleasantries." There was a grin in his dark eyes which took any sting from the words. Supercilious he might be, but he had that easy charm common to all the Rogue Traders Kills had met. "There is much to prepare," he went on, gesturing to one of the many large boards covered with slips of paper and notes, "and my time is, regrettably, the resource of which I never seem to have enough."

Kills began. "The Gatebreakers, then." Taiwo gave a small nod, as though he had foreseen the subject.

"You want to know how repairing their fortress goes?" he asked.

"I know how it progresses, Taiwo. The specifics are coded, but not beyond my sight – nor, I suspect, yours." She took a glance at the Rogue Trader, who remained looking forward. His handsome face hinted only at mild amusement.

"I couldn't say, Inquisitor, of course." The two continued their stately progress, and Kills tried another tack at the corner.

"You have deployed twenty thousand ratings; indentured thirteen construction enginseers, and marked two adepts of the Mechanicus to the support of the Chapter's reconstruction efforts."

"I have."

"I have not spoken with Scipius for some time now."

"Nor I, Barbari. Do you know they call him the Unworthy now?" Master Scipius was tall, and honourable, and straightforward; a paragon of the Adeptus Astartes. He all but radiated virtue and honour – but he had hardly been cordial company during the long voyage to the rim. He didn't deserve the nickname, of course, but neither the Rogue Trader nor Inquisitor quite resisted their urge to grin.

"Yes, Castaway is still getting to the bottom of the reason for that. Captain Scipius now, of course."

"Not quite a demotion, Kills. The Gatebreakers seem to have a very unusual command structure – insofar as I understand things." The Inquisitor arched an eyebrow, but if Taiwo noticed, he made no reaction. "Very dispersed. Scipius retains Commandery of the Primaris."

"Is that so? I had been given to understand the two forces were fully integrated; serving alongside one another in all ways."

"No; not completely. Some Strikeforces remain purely Astartes – and before you ask, no, I don't know why. I can only say that because my forces have deployed alongside them."

Kills hid her eagerness poorly. "Where?" 

"The Kua Fu Cluster worlds. We found three Gatebreaker micro-fleets during our operations there. Frigates; nothing greater in displacement. They nearly fired on us, until the Gatebreaker's Sanctity of Man hove into view around the planet."

"A shield of green and gold, eh?" remarked the Inquisitor, quoting Scipius' declared intentions for his Chapter during the Chapter's honorary welcome to the Rogue Trader's fleet. Both the Inquisitor and Rogue Trader were silent for a moment. It seemed a long time since then. 

As they passed the great doors, redolent in gold, Taiwo broke the silence.

"I'm pleased the Space Marine escort was there, that's all I'm saying. I have no desire to squander my resources fighting Imperial servants – that is, fighting our allies." Taiwo had caught the Inquisitor's eye. He may have leeway as a Rogue Trader, but even suggesting to an Inquisitor that his fleet did not, ultimately, belong to the Imperium, was a dangerous path to tread. Kills waved it off. She was no radical; but the equally she held few puritanical views. Her flexibility and adaptability had been why the Ordo Propter had deployed her to the operation, after all. 

The door chimed; and Kills' communicator buzzed silently. Castaway had arrived.

Before Taiwo could order the door opened, she stopped. The Rogue Trader turned to face her, his broad-cheeked face for once unguarded.

"I'm not going to sanction you, Rogue Trader. To be candid, you and I are mutually dependent. Neither of us is overburdened with friends to hand out here. With the Gatebreakers deployed to Andocrine, my work here is done; as is yours. You are free to explore and exploit this region as you see fit – expanding the borders of Imperium, boosting trade, and all the other worthy acts of which your kind do best. Equally, I am free to return to the workings of the inner galaxy; to retreat from this barren region..." She trailed off, looking once more to the great viewport. It remained blank, and Kills could not tell whether this was because it was switched off, or whether it was simply showing the endless, starless sweep of the end of the galaxy.

"And yet?" Taiwo prompted, as the door chimed a second time. Kills looked straight at him.

"And yet we have both returned here. Of all the places in this cast region, we have returned to a ruined Chapter Fortress, to make it right. We are linked to them, you and I; to the Gatebreakers. And before this Master Sho slips the leash, I would know to whom we have handed over a Chapter of the Adeptus Astartes."

+++

+ Reinforcements inbound +

+ More building, more painting. Three further bodies – this time from the Hellblaster kit – have been added to bring the new intake to ten. I've also cracked on with the painting, using the same batch approach as before. First the grey undercoat, then a few layers of yellow. +

+ After that, the green. It's a relief after the yellow, which is a real slog. Green has much better coverage, so it takes less than half the time than the yellow. It's also a satisfying stage, as you make the lines nice and crisp. +

+ After that, the black went on for the soft armour – further tidying the scheme. Once dry, the squad and Dreadnought (below) were ready to be sprayed with matt picture varnish. +

+ Next up is the oils stage. I've got some arms and heads complete, left over from the first batch, so the Gatebreakers reinforcements won't be too long now, touch wood. +

+ inload: Barbari Kills and the Bridge of the Ẹtì Alubarika +

+  A short story today, intended to illuminate the characters accompanying  the Primaris Gatebreakers. I've got plans to build and paint a few of these – I'd love to hear your thoughts on which catch your imagination, and who you'd like to see realised. +

+++

The Ẹtì Alubarika wallowed, the void-engines sputtering to a halt as the materium drives took up the slack. The choirmaster retrieved his wand from the podium and began directing the Liturgy of Gracious Thanks.

From her standpoint near a navigation-organ, Kills stretched lazily. The headache that warp travel inevitably brought upon her was already ebbing away, and she smiled with relief. She glanced around, her vision blocked by the two hulking marines that flanked her. Their gleaming power armour was swathed in fabric tabards, picked out with core Imperial decoration. They were in all ways identical, their armour clean and unmarred, polished to perfection. Seeing her move, Septival nodded politely. He stepped backwards to let the Inquisitor see past him. 

The bridge of the Ẹtì Alubarika was dressed stone. Turquoise-studded granite columns soared in a great gallery, and desks of void-whale baleen were piled high with scroll cases, records and dataslates. There were few vid-screens or electronics visible; the crew interacting with the craft through embedded haptics and keyboards more akin to musical instrumentation than the ascetically practical models cradled by the hooded tech-adepts. It was, Kills had noted when she had been invited aboard, quite something. The crew were also singular: smart, clean-limbed and beautiful figures from a dozen different worlds. Taiwo was proud of his bridge crew, whom he demanded to be exemplars of humanity. After all, as he had proudly declared to the Inquisitor: 'These may be the first men and women a species will see. I will have them see us for what we are: Perfect.'

As far as anything was typical for the rogue trader, Taiwo was every inch the commander. He sat, almost lost within the opulence of his command throne, looking out across the bridge. His glittering augmetic eyes drank in every detail, and Kills could see his gaze piercing the stars even as his advisors muttered and proferred reports. Taiwo and Kills had reached an uneasy rapprochement. He was an inveterate explorer, keen to push the boundaries – both literally and metaphorically. The idea of ferrying a proto-Chapter of Primaris Space Marines to an ancient backwater on the very rim of the galaxy had not caught his imagination, until Kills had intimated the lack of Imperial authority over the area. As far as the Ordo could determine, celestial drift had left this region of space unmonitored and unexplored for millennia – possibly since the establishment of the Imperium itself. 

He had agreed – though he remained a Rogue Trader. His demands were large, but payable: exclusive rights to the frontier, colonisation fiefdom guarantees on all inhabitable worlds... and the tip of Kills' little finger. As Taiwo's rich voice rolled around the bridge; directing his staff, the Inquisitor flexed her new augmetic at the memory. The loss of a fingertip was, in the end, a small price to pay – after all, her fingerprints and generunes were banked and warded by the Ordo Propter –  and the Expedition's augmetists were second-to-none. The skinsleeve was indistinguishable from her birth flesh. 

Inquisitrix Barbari Kills had little of the sentimentalist about her. She had taken the opportunity to have a digitial microlaser and elegant vox-thief fitted. If little else sat well with the proto-Chapter she accompanied, that lack of sentimentality was at least in tune. Chapter 333 were new-forged. They had taken their oaths, and were as prepared as Space Marines could be – but what little fighting they had seen was desultory. Kills suspected that accounted for a large part of their obsessive training and fastidiousness. 

She had had the dubious pleasure of serving alongside Astartes before, and had the peculiar feeling that the Primaris soldiers of Chapter 333 were trying a little too hard to impress her. Their armour gleamed. Their steps were perfectly synchronous. A sense of order radiated from them. That easy, knowing smile came to the Inquisitor's face again. It was sweet, in a way. 

Scipius, the Chapter's Interim Master, had assigned Septival and Coriolanus as bodymen to her, and they had – despite her efforts – remained politely but stubbornly glued to her as she wandered the halls of the Ẹtì Alubarika and its accompanying fleet. The presence of the two hulking warriors had prevented her from making any personal progress with in-fleet investigations, and so she had, with resignation, delegated her more shadowy work to her acolytes.

+++

She thought of Master Scipius as she strolled, hands clasped proprietorially behind her back, towards the viewing platforms, where she could – at last – look outside the ship again. Coriolanus and Septival followed a studiedly short distance behind. Barbari Kills was an experienced star-sailor, hardbitten investigative member of the Inquisition, and – when called to be – a ruthless killer. Nevertheless, she had never lost the thrill of wonderment at the galaxy. It was at the heart of her; and seeing stars and planets never failed to stir a sense of the divine in her. It almost made up for the damn headaches, she thought.

Ratings and crew members parted before the trio as Kills advanced towards the main Observatorio, hidden as yet behind a curve. Before reaching the cyclopean window itself, she paused, and looked back. Past the colossal green-and-yellow Space Marines, beneath the decorated black granite, she could see humanity. Bustling, busy, engaged in tasks – as complex as clockwork, as heaving as an anthill.

Closing her eyes in anticipation, she prepared herself for the glittering beauty of the stars; the soaring columns of nebulae, the painted beauty of illuminated stardust...

When she opened them again, her breath caught in her throat. She felt the overwhelming need to grasp something; anything. Her hand briefly snaked out towards Septival, but she snatched it back, angry with herself. A rolling, tumultous sense of vertigo claimed her, as though she – and the rest of the bridge; the ship; the species – were teetering on the brink of an infinite precipice. 

For before her eyes, from edge to edge of the colossal Observatorio, was what lay beyond the rim of the galaxy. An occasional miniscule pip of light; a faint dusting of gas – and then, between the galaxy of Man, and its impossibly distant neighbours, nothing. Nothing for ever. A blank, black insanity of absence.

She turned away, disappointed and disquieted – though her rigid self-discipline revealed nothing. She looked instead to Coriolanus and Septival, studying those identical helms as they regarded her impassively in turn. Would their sense of order survive here? she wondered. Could anyone's? 

+++

+ Painting has also progressed, and I couldn't resist setting up the parts to preview what the resulting marines will look like. Pleased with the results – I'm fired up to get these polished off and completed! +