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Considered* to be the biggest, bestest, most loyal Legion with the nicest shiniest armour, the Ubriacomarines take the Codex Ratstartes very seriously. Written by their primarch Rocamadour Guerbigny, the Codex contains a list of Emperor-approved cheeses, lots of recipes, a handy glossary of terms and is available in five installments priced at only $IX.XCIX each**. As the XIII Legion follows this tome to the letter they will view anyone who doesn't use a Codex-approved fondue set with deep suspicion and have called Exterminatus on planets found to be using Velveeta. Following Guerbigny's miraculous recovery the Empire is looking forward to "Codex Ratstartes II: Just When You Thought It Was Safe To Buy Kraft Singles" with great anticipation. The Ubriacomarines remain blissfully unaware that almost every other Legion refers to its Ratstartes as "smurfs". *By themselves. **Plus S&H.
Preferring to bombard their enemies from afar, Ratstartes of the Iris Warriors specialize in heavy weaponry. For example, Battle-Brother Hardcheese, pictured, carries weaponry so heavy that not only can his power armour barely hold the weight, he's also in danger of blowing himself up if he fires either one of his Devilsgulch missile launchers. Like many of the IV Legion, his armour is decorated with black and yellow chevrons, although his artificer hasn't quite got the hang of them yet. Hardcheese is also armed with a pistol in case the enemy gets within 500 feet and an implement he found in his kitchen junk drawer. The Iris Warriors' primarch, Pecorino, is currently loyal but as his BFF is Fulgreve it's only a matter of time before he turns to Chaource. (I'd photographed Brother Hardcheese and attached the images to this post before realising I'd painted an X on his chest and launchers instead of IV. Yes, I'd got the Iron Warriors and Iron Hands mixed up. Damn you, GW!)
With their pale skin, black eyes and habit of using the skulls of their enemies as fondue bowls, the Niolo Lords are infamous for spreading terror across the galaxy simply by showing up and broadcasting images of their Grater Companies flaying the rind from unpasteurized Stilton. Many Niolo Lords adorn their warplate with lightning bolts, although the artificer responsible for this Ratstarte's armour is probably a candidate for the skinning pits. Their unstable primarch, Konrad Curds, the Night Havilah, is plagued by visions of being killed by a vegan assassin. (I've just noticed that I completely forgot to drybrush his bolter. Duh.)