Traitor guardsmen patrol done! Took about a week to finish them all, was my first attempt at batch painting! Normally I work harder for unknown some reason and paint each one individually before assembly 💀
Anyway, I had alot of fun with these boys. They were my first thing I've done since my return to painting after a few years break.
(They look grainy but I assure you my paint is very smooth, cameras made them look deep fried 😭)
Nigth lord Terror Corsairs Admiral Malakeit and hq power.
Before you join the Araknophobia legions Night cult and become a mutated in to a Night lord. If you survive, the grim life of a cultist, but a military one. Traitor guards.
All you know is the eternal war and terror of the Night lords.
In the Grim Darkness of the Far Future, there is Only War.
Across the vast expanse of the galaxy, countless factions wage unending conflict in the name of their gods, their creeds, or their ambitions. Among them rises a warband whose legend is etched in blood and fire, a testament to the complex duality of martial honor and unrelenting fury. The Crimson Concord, led by the charismatic and fearsome Amaranthe the Crimson Oathbearer, stands as a unique embodiment of Khorne’s multifaceted nature—a balance between disciplined mastery and the primal thirst for combat.
Her tale, and that of her Warband, is one of faith corrupted, of warriors reforged in the crucible of war, and of an unyielding pursuit of perfection on the battlefield.
Amaranthe of the Order of the Sacred Blades was once a name whispered in reverent awe within the Imperium of Man. A bastion of faith and martial prowess, she epitomized the Adepta Sororitas’ creed, her actions embodying unwavering devotion to the Emperor. Born to a pious family on the shrine world of Serephina Prime, her life’s path was set in stone from the moment she could utter her prayers. Chosen for the Schola Progenium at a young age, Amaranthe excelled in every trial placed before her—be it theological rigor, combat drills, or trials of faith.
When inducted into the Order of the Sacred Blades, her ascension was swift. Her blade, blessed by the Canoness herself, never faltered in its purpose. On the battlefield, she was a figure of divine wrath, her every strike a hymn of purity against the heretics and xenos that plagued the Emperor’s domain. Her Sisters spoke of her with a mixture of awe and apprehension, for her zeal was unmatched, even among their ranks. Yet, beneath this veil of sanctity, the seeds of her undoing had already begun to take root.
On the battlefields of Valtherion Prime, as the skies darkened with ash and the screams of the dying echoed unendingly, Amaranthe faced a revelation that shattered her soul. The conflict was one of attrition, a brutal quagmire against Ork marauders. Her squad had been tasked with defending a reliquary housing fragments of Saint Luthias’ blade, a holy artifact of immense importance. But as the months dragged on, as blood flowed and bodies piled high, Amaranthe’s prayers became hollow whispers.
She began to see the truth she had always suspected yet dared not voice: the purity she sought did not lie in faith or in relics. It lay in the act of battle itself—in the perfection of the strike, the harmony of blood and steel. Her Sisters noticed the change in her demeanor, her growing obsession with combat for its own sake. But it was too late. As the enemy’s numbers swelled, and the tide of battle turned, Amaranthe heard a voice that cut through the cacophony: clear, commanding, undeniable. Khorne’s whispers were not promises of power or indulgence but a call to embrace the truth she had always known.
When the reliquary fell, it was not to any Ork blade, but by Amaranthe’s own hand. She shattered the sanctified glass surrounding the relic, melting the fragments of Saint Luthias’ blade to forge a new weapon from her old—transforming via an act of unthinkable blasphemy a single mass produced weapon with billions exactly like it throughout the galaxy into her unique and now legendary Eviscerator, Proof of Blood, which itself is a symbol to her that Khorne cares not from whence you come, but from how you distinguish yourself in battle. As her Sisters turned on her in horror, she cut them down, not with mindless rage, but with the precision of a warrior answering a higher calling. In her eyes, their refusal to see the purity of Khorne’s truth made them unworthy of the Emperor’s ideal. When the planet finally fell, Amaranthe emerged alone, her crimson armor tarnished with ash and blood, but her purpose clearer than ever.
The galaxy churns with conflict in the thousands of years since the Emperor first began his "Great Crusade". Those who betrayed the Emperor during the Horus Heresy now call it "The Long War", and it was amidst such chaos that the Crimson Concord first coalesced. In the aftermath of the Breloth Uprising, a rebellion orchestrated by the dark machinations of Chaos, Khorne’s whispers stirred among the Imperial defenders. Disparate groups—the Space Marines of the Exemplars of Wrath, descendants of the legendary Imperial Fists, Imperial Guardsmen from many and wild regiments called upon to defend the world, and even the Sisters of Battle of the Order of the Sable Seal—all found themselves questioning their loyalties and the doctrines they once held sacred. The uprising ended with the planet a smoking ruin, yet from its ashes rose a new force, one whose cries of bloodlust and battle would strike fear into any Imperial Defender in the galaxy: the Crimson Concord.
Amaranthe, now calling herself the Crimson Oathbearer, emerged as a unifying figure. Her charisma and martial prowess inspired loyalty among the disillusioned. She preached a creed of blood and honor, of strength untainted by cowardice or deceit. To her banner came fallen Astartes from yet more Chapters shattered by war and betrayal: The Ultra Claws and the Jackals of the Anvil, Ultramarine successors disillusioned by their rigid codes, the Shrine Accipiters, yet more descendants of the Imperial Fists, their minds lost in the everlasting traumatic stress of a war unending, and the Griffons of Baal, Blood Angels descendants, lost to their endless red thirst. Yet more Traitor Guardsmen, bitter and hardened, rallied to the Concord, seeing in Amaranthe's vision a god who valued their strength rather than dismissing them as expendable numbers.
Amaranthe’s personal retinue, the Crimson Blades, are a group of fallen Sisters of Battle who shared her disdain for the Ecclesiarchy’s dogma. Clad in blood-rune-covered armor that still bears echoes of their old heraldry, they became her most fervent disciples. Each blade was a reflection of Amaranthe’s ethos: warriors who balanced the fury of Khorne with the precision and discipline of their former lives.
It was on the corpse-world of Duris Magna that the Crimson Concord’s name was etched in blood. Facing the Black Templars’ Crusade Fleet Perseus, the Concord demonstrated their terrifying efficiency. Unlike the frenzied berserkers of other Khornate warbands, the Concord’s tactics were a masterclass in warfare. Their Astartes contingents executed disciplined formations, their Traitor Guardsmen provided covering fire, and their Sisters struck with surgical precision. The Crusade Fleet's Marshal, Valmerick Schusteir, fell to Amaranthe herself in a duel that lasted hours, his sacred relic blade shattered beneath the relentless might of Proof of Blood. Yet even in victory, the Crimson Concord held to their code: there was no butchery, but pure, rapturous battle that would make one weep for witnessing its magnificence. For a grave world such as Duris Magna, the battle between Crusade Fleet Perseus and the Crimson Concord may yet prove to be the most beautiful thing that will ever transpire there. And, unlike most Khornate warbands, Schusteir's death came with a condition: he had challenged Amaranthe on the condition that the battle ended with the death of the loser, and that the survivors of the losing side were not to be pursued as they fled. Unwilling to kill a target who would not fight back, Amaranthe accepted those terms, and though it has resulted in a splinter group of the Black Templars that has spent every day since baying for her blood, Amaranthe looks forward to their wrath, for perhaps in their quest for vengeance, they might prove worthy opponents when next met.
The Crimson Concord’s philosophy is a reflection of Amaranthe’s transformation and Khorne’s multifaceted nature. To them, battle is a sacred rite, a crucible where warriors prove their worth. They disdain the senseless slaughter often associated with Chaos, reserving their wrath for the strong and the worthy. Their warbands hold honor duels to settle disputes, and leadership is earned through martial skill, not birthright or scheming.
The Astartes of the Concord bring the legacies of their fallen Chapters into Khorne’s service. Ultramarines’ successors apply their tactical precision, while the resilience of the Imperial Fists’ scions and the ferocious shock tactics of the Blood Angels’ descendants create a balanced yet devastating force. The Traitor Guardsmen, known as the Bloodsworn, operate with discipline rarely seen in Chaos warbands, their grizzled and rugged commanders enforcing strict codes of conduct through earned respect and harsh discipline.
The Crimson Blades, Amaranthe’s Sisters, serve as both warriors and spiritual leaders within the Concord. They preach Khorne’s creed not as mindless violence but as the pursuit of strength and martial purity. Their sermons echo across the battlefields, rallying their comrades and striking fear into their foes.
The heraldry of the Crimson Concord is a testament to their philosophy. Their crimson and brass armor is adorned with remnants of their original colors, a reminder of their past lives. Their sigil, a crossed sword and axe over a bloodied gauntlet, represents unity through combat and the strength of the warrior’s path. Each scar on their armor is a badge of honor, each bloodstain a sacred mark.
Proof of Blood, Amaranthe’s Eviscerator, is the warband’s ultimate symbol. Forged from the shattered reliquary of Saint Luthias, it embodies their rejection of false sanctity and their commitment to Khorne’s truth. The weapon’s blade is etched with battle honors, its edge honed by the countless lives it has claimed.
The Crimson Concord’s ultimate ambition is as grand as it is brutal: to carve a realm of blood and honor that will echo across the galaxy. They seek not only to prove their worth to Khorne but to create a lasting legacy, a kingdom where only the strongest and most disciplined may thrive. They clash frequently with the followers of Slaanesh and Tzeentch, despising the former’s decadence and the latter’s deceit.
Amaranthe dreams of an eternal place in the Brass Citadel as one of Khorne’s chosen generals. Yet she knows this glory must be earned. Every battle, every duel, every sacrifice is a step toward this goal. Her warband marches ever onward, their blades singing hymns of blood and brass, their oaths sworn to a god who values strength above all.
In the endless war that engulfs the galaxy, the Crimson Concord stands as a testament to the duality of Khorne’s creed: unrelenting fury tempered by honor and discipline. Their legend is one of blood and fire, of warriors who embrace the purity of battle and the eternal truth of strength. For now, they march across the stars, their cries of “Blood for the Blood God!” and "Blood and Honor!" tempered by the unyielding discipline of warriors who see every battle as both a trial and a tribute. To face the Crimson Concord is to face not only death but an enemy who will honor your strength and your fight —and remember your name— long after the blood has dried.
Since I didn’t take any pictures of them, here’s the completed squads of Traitor Guardsmen, accompanied by their Traitor Enforce and Chaos Ogryn, and the Chaos Cultists squad, which I want to paint up (at some point) to run counter to my Cadian 122nd.
It does suck that GW is seeming to take a massive step back towards monopose models, since I feel that is essentially what these particular models are now, just with extra choices. Like, they are brilliantly detailed, especially with the Cultists that have bare chests, but still, I think at this point, GW just might as well go back to doing the old school models proper.
