“The Slammer” – More for the Traitor Guard – 113th Blood Strike Renegades

Hello good people. How be you?

I be well.

Last night I finished off painting a little tank I like to call “The Slammer”. It slams into the enemies front lines and is also a mobile prison so the name is fitting.

This vehicle, originally, started out as a humble Space Marine Landraider but was adnadonned mid battle when a fire broke out inside it. Then a squad of Cadian  Guardsmen found it covered in mud and ash and made it their forward command base for a bit before hauling the old tank back to their own lines to see if it could be repaired. That’s where it sat, rusting away, for nearly a decade before it was sold as scrap to a passing scrap merchant. He then had it fixed up and converted into a convict transport and sold it to a penal colony. A few years later a dozen prisoners, along with a corrupt screw, broke out of the prison and took off in the converted raider. This band of murderous thieves and all round bad guys joined up with the Traitor Guard a couple of months later and donated their vehicle to the cause. Now it’s, primarily, used to charge into battle, do as much damage as possible, instill fear into the enemy and capture a few troops along the way.

The fate of Old Johnny Spader.

Poor old Johnny Spader was an unlucky git

always in trouble, forever in the shit

He joined the Guard with a heart full of pride

and on his very first day he almost died

one week later he charged at the lines

copped a stray bullet right in the behind

the medic said he was a lucky shite

and he soon jumped back in to join the fight

next he was blown up and lost his hearing

his comrades tormented him with their constant jeering

Johnny didn’t care and back to battle he went

An axe hurled his way and caused a nasty dent

feeling low and doubting his abilities

he decided to abandon the war with all its hostilities

He married a pretty lass and started a farm

but it wasn’t too long before, again, he was harmed

The Traitor Guard took him prisoner and made him their bitch

he begged for death but they didn’t grant him his wish

instead they strung him up at the front of their landraider

this was the fate of old Johnny Spader

Bit of an impromptu poem for you to explain the poor chap barbed wired to the front of the tank. Clearly, very much inspired by this –

I was really pleased with the angle of Johnnys arms. It looks as though he is struggling to get out of his barbed binds.

I hope you like what I’ve done here guys and gals. The next thing coming the Traitor guards way will be a Basilisk tank and a squad of shotgun wielding maniacs hehe. Why not aye, why not?

Cheers

IRO