Sons of Empire!

2010-12-08T10:46:00.000-08:00

Some new pictorials from across our fine space empire. Firstly, a young lady consults her watch, to check that space is running according to Grenwich Mean Time.

Below, the remarkable science of "bionics" is put to splendid and subtle effect to get this noble fellow back on the field of battle. Who would guess that he was half mechanical and now almost entirely bulletproof! Unstoppable in combat and a real eye-turner at soirees: what gentleman could want more?

And Finally, below, two of his imperial majesty's stalwart servants. To the left is Sir Runcible Fairbairn, Master of Machines, equipped with his all-purpose engineering suit and his dual-purpose Differential Gauging Tool and hitting stick. On the right stands brother-captain McGonagall, whisky enthusiast and bard, threatening something with his power-claymore in a righteous, if inebriated, rage. Thus the pair join the rest of the chapter to stride forth to punt some alien posterior.

Suspicious Padre in Alien Invasion Shocker!

2010-04-06T11:00:00.000-07:00

It is with sadness that we are obliged to inform you that there are malcontents within our empire. What, you cry, who could such people be? Well, good reader, it is time to warn your cocoa and put down your wife, and hear the Truth.

The individuals below are part of a sinister cult seeking to infiltrate our cities. By handing out tracts, loitering at corners and devouring passers-by, such types aim for nothing less than the destruction of all we hold dear. Note, if you will, the monstrous features of the creatures below, poorly hidden beneath their robes. Vast braincases, purple skin, glowing eyes, multiple clawed limbs - that is right, dear reader, these people are From Abroad.

What can be done about this space-menace? Are our beloved slums doomed? Fear not. The insidious alien cultists can be detected before the infiltrate our world, largely because they are aliens. Also, they are allergic to gin.

Keep an eye out for suspicious types!

These are aliens too.

Charge, Space Hussars!

2010-04-06T10:21:00.000-07:00

Unless you are either criminally insane or French, the picture below will surely fill your heart with glee. Below we see several dashing gentlemen of His Imperial Majesty's Space Hussars, boldly riding against rumness in the name of civilisation. It is proven via Science that a good cavalry charge will turn any foe's guts to water, and that the movement of the steed is proof against firearms and foreign trickery alike.

Here, Private Plimpton prepares to blast the enemy with a plasma repeater. Note the state-of-the-cottage-industry equine accelerator at the rear of the horse, which to the untrained eye resembles a barrel with a little chimney.

And here, Major Effington activates the assault nozzle on his mighty cybernetic steed whilst rushing towards the enemy guns. That's the spirit.

We hope to be able to bring you further revelations in the weeks to come. Until then, wash your hands and abstain from Beastliness. Or you'll die.

Death from Below!

2010-04-06T09:55:00.000-07:00

Once again, it is time for the galaxy's foremost space-Victorian-related weblog. After a brief hiatus during which the editorial staff were busy with gin, floozies and laudanum, we can return to our symposium and consider new weapons of war against the alien.

Pictured below is a marvellous tunnelling device, used to insert squads of bold ether-soldiers behind the enemy's lines. Imagine the surprise of Johnny Moonman when this monster drives up from under into his rear echelon! Spin on that, foe of Britain!

Also pictured below is Edward Two Hundred and Nine, a warbot used in the storming of Verdigris. Thanks to the finest in preservative technology, the depicted machine is steered by the brain of an otherwise-deceased marine, preserved in a complex chemical solution previously used only for frogs and gherkins. Note the attractive decorative work and optional trophy heads. Attack!

Lovely Buildings (this article certified as suitable for ladies)

2007-07-08T11:06:00.000-07:00

As any reader with a fragment of intellect will know, it is not simply the goal of the Sons of Empire to thrash the upstart alien in battle – although by golly they are good at doing so. Once the garbling, tentacled foe has been sufficiently pummelled, he must be helped rise to civilisation, generally by having “his” land occupied and managed by decent, proper folk.

In order to carry out this important task, the borders of the Empire are protected by forts very much like the one you see below. This is Sons of Empire outpost 203. As can be seen, the outpost is made of solid brick and steel, and has lifting facilities, air filtration systems, an autocannon and a privy on the roof.

Inside, we can see that there is a workshop on the ground floor, where weapons and armour are prepared, and a restroom, where fellows can gather and swap stories of bold combat in a wholesome, manly atmosphere. Note the trophies, taken from a wide range of (now) obscure alien fauna. Ladies are of course not allowed.

Power for the outpost is provided by pumping stations like the one you see here. This station draws water and energy from the local well, and stores it ready for war, peace and even hygiene. Clean, modern and efficient, buildings like this stand out among – and often on top of – the rude huts and ugly concrete lumps that aliens create.

Dear Prudence

2007-07-08T10:59:00.000-07:00

Our readers will no doubt recall the three-legged alien horror revealed in our previous instalment. How, one might ask, could such a terrible device be halted? Surely such a titanic war engine could stride through a human city at will, looting and wrecking with the ghastly abandon of a pauper looking for a "knees up"?

In which case, ladies and gentlemen, look no further. Be of good cheer and behold Prudence, the Leviathan-class main battle landship.

The Leviathan carries two twin-linked laser cannons on its side, which have already proved invaluable in destroying the poorly-constructed fortifications of the dastardly Moon-man. The roof turret sports a pair of large Maxim cannons, ideal for dishing out a bit of no good to Johnny Moonlander, should he choose to make a close attack. In addition, the Leviathan can seat ten stout-hearted soldiers, who can provide extra locomotion by pushing it should its highly-reliable atom engine fall becalmed.

Everywhere Prudence goes she is greeted with awe by our enemies and cheers of approval by our stalwart citizens. At her frontage aliens throw down their weapons and beg clemency. Behind her follows a stream of urchins, eager to seize the glowing atom-coals as they fall out of the reactor, to sell them off on their barrows later on. God bless the Empire!

Johnny Alien sighted!

2007-05-20T05:22:00.001-07:00

We are pleased to be the first to announce the glimpsing of a new and apparently sentient form of life on Woking 4. The being we see to the right was photoscoped by our intrepid wildlife correspondent, Hadley Rickshaw, who intends to kill it and have it stuffed at the first opportunity.

We will provide updates as to this fascinating race as soon as possible. In the meantime, the Imperial Space Fleet stands ready to civilise them all.

It lives! Again!

2007-05-19T11:10:00.000-07:00

Once again, our Science correspondent, Mycroft Ogilvy, writes the following - or, rather, raves it through an enormous metal funnel:

"Unlike others in this dark and forbidding age, the Sons of Empire believe firmly in the progress that technology brings. This means that a soldier can rely on bigger guns to wield and, should he fall, more enthusiastic and innovative surgeons to stitch him back together, usually during a thunderstorm.

"Take for instance marines Cartwright, Smedley and Hawkins. Hit by a plasma cannon, they were scattered so throughly as to form one jumbled pile. But did this deter our surgeons? Not one jot! Using gumption, pluck and string, Apothecary Moreau was able to amalgamate the best bits of the three bold fellows and create one superlative whole, as the pictograph shows, ennervating him with a blast of electricity through the tesla coils. So keen was the resulting creature to get back to battle that it punched through the laboratory wall and assaulted three technicians on the way out.

"So, citizens, fear not. Should an enemy injure you, Science will be there to make amends to you. Or amendments. A little off the top, Sir?"

An Alien Ruse Uncovered!

2007-03-12T15:09:00.000-07:00

Good day, dear readers!

Here we see - or don't see - the depths of perfidiousness and bad sportsmanship to which the enemies of our beloved Space Empire are prepared to sink. Pictured below, rendered in high-definition Kinoscope, is an alien sharpshooter preparing to draw a bead on passing citizens.

But where? one might ask. Look again, dear readers, and marvel at the low cunning of the foreign blighter: he is actually crouched on the very branch, rifle raised. Is that not the very epitome of base conduct? This is a ruthless and crafty enemy who will stop at nothing; the sort of man who nails the bail to the stumps while everyone else is in the pavilion, taking tea.

Be assured that shortly after this picture was taken, one of our chaps crept up behind him and stabbed him in the back. That'll teach the bugger.

Salvos of Steam!

2006-12-15T16:15:00.000-08:00

After a brief trip away to take the waters and have his choler ventilated, your narrator is pleased to rejoin you once again in order to reveal yet another miracle of our electric age.

We cannot profess any particular expertise in the design of his Majesty's landships, but it seems clear that armour + cannons + big chimneys can only equate to glorious success and the enlargement of the Empire. Consequentially we predict only glory for the mighty instrument reproduced below: the "Whirlwind" self-propelled multiple cannonet.

The large steam chimneys enable it to be spotted from afar, filling the devious heart of Johnny Alien with fear before combat begins. The rack of light artillery-pieces mounted on the roof enable closely-packed hordes of gibbering infantry to be civilised en masse before they have the chance to close and do any funny business with their primitive weaponry. All that's currently missing from this fine machine is a selection of captured aliens stuck to the front.

Those readers particularly enamoured of armoured vehicles will be pleased to note that the entire Sons of Empire landship collection is now available as a series of cigarette cards available in packs of Stalwart filter-tips, price 2 bob. These make an ideal present for any red-blooded boy, and the cards are quite pleasant too.

He Got (Big) Game.

2006-11-14T12:16:00.000-08:00

"Hullo. I’m Hadley Rickshaw, and I’d like to talk to you about nature. You’d have to be insane or some sort of heartless Prussian to deny the splendour and variety of the world around us, and these days, with interstellar travel and whatnot, Mother Nature’s fecundity lies wide open to any passing gentleman overcome by wanderlust.

"And what better way to enjoy nature than in the privacy of one’s drawing room, stuffed? Here, in this brief summary, I hope to introduce my readers to some of the galaxy’s most remarkable, and now rarest, creatures.

"First, the feller you see here. I caught him on the planet of Narapoor, late one evening. I had just stepped out of my house with a stout stick in my hand in order to discover where the devil the servant had gone with my G&T, when I caught sight of this fearsome beast stamping on the remnants of my man. Overcome by the beauty of such a majestic creature, I seized my rifle and tracked it through the bush without food or shelter for six days, stopping only to refresh myself with whisky ever half-hour. I am told that I was found nude and singing by its corpse some days later with my empty hip-flask on my head, obviously a victim of heatstroke.

"Next, we turn to the festering jungles of Upper Margani Province. One night, I was informed that a monster had gone on the rampage, killing scores of native aliens and, appallingly, bending one of His Imperial Majesty’s lamp-posts. I resolved to destroy the beast. To begin with, my shots rang off its armoured hide, and I realised more cunning tactics were required. I approached from the rear with a large thermos flask packed with explosive, and was able to thrust the charge home like a true vet. The being now serves the Empire as a coat-stand.

"One, final memoir. Last spring, on Verdigris, I managed to bag a fine dromaeosaur, and, having no bearers, was dragging the carcass back home when I heard the sound of vast creatures before me. I parted the bushes, and was able to take this small photograph before I dropped my load in shock.

"I believe it to show the native Eldar using enormous lizards as beasts of burden. An astonishing phenomenon, I’m sure you will agree. I shall report back with further news from the field presently: but until then, happy hunting."

Salt of the Earth working types.

2006-10-07T14:05:00.000-07:00

“The poor? Huh! What are they good for? Absolutely nothing! Say it again!”

Such thoughts, no doubt, will have crossed the mind of many a genteel reader as he observes the working classes indulging in their natural habits of shirking, lewdness and consuming cheap gin. (If you are not genteel, then get back to work, you idling scrounger.) Actually, as anyone who’s visited the docks looking to “trade” with sailors or “buy flowers” from a “flower girl” knows, the common folk can come in quite handy. Still, the general perception is that they smell because they're lazy, and quite right too.

A refreshing surprise, then, to visit the forges of the Sons of Empire. In our last missive, our science correspondent remarked on the vast new Dreadnought Isembard: responsible for the construction were technical servitors like the fellow on the left: doughty, hard-working labourers fond of steel, rivets and tutting.

These chaps live entirely within the forges, and their conveniently narrow gene-pool has made them as strong as you or I, yet small enough to fit into places where a child or disposable robot would normally have to be used. Their skill in engineering has enabled them to devise many instruments of war, with which to take civilisation to our enemies, and to assist the Chapter's techmarines on the battlefield, carrying out running repairs and giving foreign types a bit of boot leather where required.

The use of these stout fellows is merely another instance of progress improving the lot of all. Despite having their own union and grumbling when they don't get enough tea, these are loyal subjects, eager to defend the Empire and press on against the forces of darkness in our perpetual quest to drag mankind into the future! Carry on, working chappie!

"A raise? What do you mean, you want a raise?"

Progress Strides Forward!

2006-09-30T08:59:00.000-07:00

It's alive! Ahahaha!, writes Science correspondent Mycroft Ogilvy, pictured left. And they said it could never be done! They said I was mad! I, mad? Ahahaha!

Those blinkered fools tried to stop me, but today, I have taken the brain of my dead comrade Techmarine Isembard and installed it in the metal shell of a dreadnought! All night I laboured, wiping sweat from my goggles, my tool flashing in the light of the thunderstorm, rain hammering at my tesla coils. And now, he strides forth to do battle with all who oppose the Empire - to smite our foes with his gatling cannon and mighty fist!

Isembard left the plans behind, you see, when he died in that unfortunate accident. It was only Apothecary Moreau and I who knew his true destiny. Behold how he towers over Inquisitor Alice.

Strong, bold, steamy! With such creations we shall take over the galaxy! And to think they said I was demented. Some people, eh?

Villainy, both Brutish and Alluring

2006-09-22T03:49:00.000-07:00

Here we see two aliens: sworn enemies, yet united in their opposition to propriety.

Below, on the left, is a borish Ork warlord. Observe, if you will, the reclining forehead of the habitual thug, the utter lack of bearing and the scores of skulls he caries - taken, we can only hope, from foreigners. None but a fool would fail to recognise this coarse space-oaf as an enemy of decent folk everywhere, and no fellow of pluck would hesitate to teach him a stern lesson with sabre and carbine.

Yet what of this second figure? What red-blooded chap would not be favourably disposed towards the maiden we see here, with her pleasing figure, long tresses and enormous pair of antlers on display? Beware, young men of the Imperium, for this is no normal flower of girlhood: this is an Eldar, a fey alien.

Indeed, the lure of the exodites speaks to many hearty lads. But you're better off with Mabel back at home, chaps: she may be less exotic, but she's not waving a sickle on top of a pile of skulls. Many is the man who has fallen into the clutches of the fey and been found wandering on the forest edge - spent in body and spirit, his vigour entirely drained, his broad smile an indication of the madness he has endured at the hands of a legion of wanton succubi. Let this be a warning, then: wallop the Orks, avoid strange fillies and follow the Upward Path.

Remarkable Alien Construction

2006-09-19T06:30:00.000-07:00

Below we are pleased to present to you, the reader, the first pictures of a remarkable structure recovered from a downed alien space-ship of unknown origin.

The craft was located when a supply shuttle passing the barren world of Nova Caledonia noticed a crashed vessel emitting a distress signal and generally making a fuss. The vast, apparently fossilised object was discovered inside. Sharp-eyed readers will note that it appears to be made entirely of phlegm, a common practice amongst alien beings which accounts for the shoddiness of much of their technology compared to proper stuff.

The cause of death of the alien being operating the device - thought by scientists to be a form of Tyranid - has not been established. It is possible that its demise can be attributed to either Vapours or self-abuse, both of which are invariably fatal.

The structure is on public view in the Hall of Brusquely-Acquired Antiquities in the Museum of Ald Landantarn.

A Chuffing Marvel of the Modern Age

2006-09-16T16:41:00.000-07:00

Good sorts everywhere will be pleased to know that the Sons of Empire use a wide range of motorised vehicles in their ceaseless fight against tyranny and rumness. Here, photographed against a verdant background, we see a splendid "Rhinoceros" light landship, used to swiftly convey a contingent of fine soldiery into the heart of battle. Equipped with superior armour and a mighty ram, this fine machine will surely strike fear into the hearts of wrongdoers everywhere.

Here is a second image, which you may care to frame and place on the mantelpiece in order to delight and amuse the little ones.

You there!

2006-09-16T11:58:00.000-07:00

Yes, you! Stop that nonsense and pay attention!

That's better. Stand up straight, man.

What's all this about, you're probably wondering. Well, this here is the only and hence official weblog of the Sons of Empire, Warhammer 40,000's Victorian legion. Thanks to new advances in scientific thought and the Verno-Wells electromagnetogram, it is now possible to bring to you pictures of the mighty Victorian legion as they prepare to civilise the dark corners of the galaxy. No more need the infants and womanhood of the Imperium be defenceless against Johnny Chaos and rum alien types, for the Sons of Empire stand ready!

Seen below is Marine Carruthers, enjoying a cup of tea before showing some sort of disreputable Mars-man the business end of his bolt carbine. Good fellow.

In our later installments, we hope to bring you further inspiring images of virtue at the edges of the ether. Until our next episode, carry on.