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Seeing as how it may get a little convoluted over in the regular updates, I took the liberty to start up a new thread just dedicated to the fluff updates for the campaign, enjoy!

We'll start with week one's fluff update:

Here is the first official fluff update from week 1:

"What do you mean it's gone?” the commander spoke quietly from behind a balled fist which rested over his mouth.

“I'm sorry sir, it is simply gone. Our reports have confirmed this, as well as all recon ships we have sent to investigate,” the trembling attendant took a deep breath, wishing that he could shrink under the piercing gaze aimed at him from behind the massive oak desk in front of him.

“Define 'gone' for me, boy...” the voice rasped in concentrated effort.

“Masali no longer exists, Commander, the Necrons have destroyed it we presume...”

“I am trying to be patient with you, Attendant, but you are making it extremely difficult for me. How do you not know if a planet was destroyed? I think it would be obvious?”

“Yes sir, I mean it would be, but uh the problem is that there was no debris so it's difficult to ascertain the, uh... true fate of Masali” the young man swallowed, making a sound that seemed to reverberate off the walls in the cold quiet that radiated from the officer who continued to stare at him.

“Are there no witnesses to what happened? No recordings from nearby ships?”

“All of the Imperial citizens were evacuated along with the majority of our guardsmen and Astartes were reassigned to nearby planets once we determined that the Necrons had taken the world, my Lord.” The attendant's tongue grew dry and he began tripping over words in a rush to get them all out “Only a, uh, token fleet was left to monitor activity and prepare for the larger strike cruisers to enter the planetary orbit. However, when our sensors picked up a large energy spike from that sector of space, we tried to contact the remaining fleet and no-one responded sir. A few of the ships' remains were discovered by our recon ships, but not all were accounted for, sir. The other ships were gone, just like the planet sir. We don't know what has happened to them..."

“You cannot be serious, boy. Planets do not just disappear!”

“It appears this one has, Lord Commander” a new voice spoke from behind the attendant. The officer turned his gaze past the trembling youth in front of him to the new speaker who had just entered the room. Swirling white robes covered a golden breastplate, and an aged face with a cybernetic eye, topped with long strands of gray hair stared back at the commander. An amulet chained around the speaker's neck announced the reason for his presence.

An Inquisitor, Emperor's Light! I should've known! The officer's mouth tightened.

“You are dismissed, boy,” the Inquisitor didn't even bother looking at the attendant as he scurried out of the room, his face a pale sheen of white.

“Sir, I had not expected your presence, or else I would have made better... preparations for your arrival.”

“Do not concern yourself, Commander, I will be gone before I could truly enjoy your hospitality.” The Inquisitor shook his head. “Let us dispense with the pleasantries, shall we? I am Inquisitor Malachus of the Ordo Xenos, and I have been given a simple, if unpleasant task that I must perform: That of informing the commanders of this sector to not concern themselves with Masali, that is now under the jurisdiction of my Order, and to ensure that cooperation with whatever means of coercion I deem necessary. Is that understood?” The wizened face would've cracked stone, and perhaps the commander himself if he'd allowed it.

“What of my men that disappeared with Masali? Are they no longer my concern anymore?” He barely managed to keep the feral growl out of his voice.

“I hope you will not make this difficult, Lord Commander, your Emperor is demanding your cooperation. Need I invoke His wrath to convince you of the sense of these orders?” Malachus narrowed his eyes. “It would be a shame if a man of your caliber, with such a sense of duty to his soldiers be the cause of many more of them dying for disobeying the Emperor's commands, wouldn't it?”

The commander's jaw clenched, and the audible sound of teeth grinding filled the silent room with quiet malice.

“Yes sir, it would be a shame. What are your orders for me now?”

“Very good, Commander, I commend your integrity and your faith. As to your orders, you may go wherever you please. The Generals here in the Venta System have need of your assistance on Perdus, perhaps, or maybe Korsk or Enpivin. Though the Antropos and Inon systems are struggling as well, if I were you, I would hope that the Ordo Hereticus do not look closer at those systems, I fear that a baptism by fire would be close behind such inspections. Perhaps you should look to Valos in the Dagon System to inspire your faith. It doesn't matter where you go, just so long as you go through the proper channels.” The Inquisitor's face was wooden and hollow, his voice flat and matter-of-fact.

“Perhaps I will, Lord Inquisitor.” Emotions battled across the commander's face.

“I thank you for your diligence and faithfulness, Lord Commander. I will take my leave.” The Inquisitor turned to leave, then stopped and turned his head, “the Emperor protects.” The commander didn't reply as the doors slid shut with an ominous finality behind the departing figure.

********************************************************************************
Somewhere between the darkness and shadow, something stirred. Something may in fact be a misnomer, for this thing held no substance. It had many labels, though. Some had called it Abomination, Sin, Death, Destruction, Hatred, Fear, Chaos, and these were only the names given by the tongues of the currently existing races. In reality it was something that existed beyond all of those titles. It looked throughout the realities as they arraigned themselves in what could be called its periphery. Some part of it wallowed with glee at the bloodshed and fear that emanated from a certain piece of space occupied by a petty series of creatures each equally focused on one thing: Dominance. What could be thought of as a squirm of glee the part of the conscience that was fixated on these small pieces of time and space looked out over the worlds being held there in place by fluctuating laws of science and math, labels given by the ancient inhabitants of those worlds, long since fallen into disuse.

The abomination watched as legions of those carrying banners of various incarnations of destruction spilled blood upon the ground. The warrior portion of the conscience cried out and roared for more, the lustful presence groaned inwardly with pleasure as it watched erudite races of cruel origins gorging themselves on distilled blood flowers, working themselves into frothy feats of excess in lust and violence. Viruses spilled out across landscapes, and eldritch energies cascaded across worlds. In a word: glorious! Or irrelevant, depending on the fixations of the ever-changing creature. It gave the equivalent of a sigh and slid back into its own reverie. For now it was pleased with the present destruction being presented it, but more would be required at a later date.
********************************************************************************
Imperial Broadcast
Attendance is Mandatory by Imperial Mandate 437.22.156
***Begin Transmission***

The Venta system has been hurt. Perdus had seen a Chaos and Ork invasion and now stood in conflict as the brave warriors on that planet held their ground, giving inches only once they were soaked through with righteous blood! The other planets of the system shone like beacons to the faltering worlds of the Venta Majoris Sector.

In Dagon, a bloody benediction was given to the harsh invasions of the Chaos forces on Valos. What had initially shown as a tragedy has been transformed into a glorious victory in the ongoing campaign for the forces of Order! Hera had seen its share of bloodshed as well, but the vigilant warriors defended the hive world with the courage of the heroes and saints of legend!

However, all is not completely well in this system, Molov is under siege! The silent murderers known as Necrons have descended on the populace there. While initial reports seemed to show random attacks, new intelligence indicates that the mechanical enemy appears to be searching for something, but what?

Antropos stands closest to the fires of Chaos. Uralan and Rellia Secundus stand in almost open rebellion to the Emperor. They are a loaded barrel waiting for the spark to ignite. Expeditionary forces have been sent to spread the word of the Living Emperor's Light. No reports have been heard from those teams. Not much is known as to what happens on those planets... Are they decoys to divert the Imperium's efforts? Or is there a threat heretofore unseen lurking on that planet?

The other planets of the Antropos system offer up their prayers for their sisters lost in the darkness, hoping that they will find their ways back to the Light. Follow in their example.

Inon soldiers on, relatively safe in its march through this bloody campaign. It seems all is safe on this front. May the Emperor's will continue to keep it so.

Prayers to the Emperor are mandatory for these systems, any found not in accordance with this mandate will be punished. All workers must report to their duties as specified in their commandments. The Machine God will protect as the Emperor's warriors defend you. That is all.

***End Transmission***

And here is week two's update, or at least a part of it, we will be having another post to update week 2 with an Ork perspective of what is going on, but for now there is this:

“Imperio Lector!” A worker yelled across the raucous din of the machinery, “Imperio Lector! Has anyone seen Imperio?” A wizened head reared up over the bent figures of workers straining to free broken cogs and tighten worn screws. A hiss of vapor caused wisps of scraggly hair to shiver over his wizened brow and tired eyes.

“I am Imperio, what's the meaning of this?” The old man grated his voice across to the worker.

“The Adeptus Mechanicum demands your presence, he's in the Observatory! He said it was urgent!”A sudden rumbling caused both the speakers and the workers to brace themselves against whatever stable surface could be found close at hand. A scream echoed above the mechanical roar as one of the more unfortunate men reared up clutching a bloody stump where his hand had been before he had braced himself against a whirring piston.

“Get him out of here!” Imperio called to the two nearest the wounded man. They nodded and moved to assist. Nearby Adeptus Mechanicum overseers anointed the wound as holy and began chanting the Holy Prayers to the Machine Spirit even as the man was carried off before resuming their circuit of the room, chanting the Psalms of Reparation. The old worker looked back at the young one and shook his head as he stepped past him towards his summons.

The Observatory. So named because it was the best vantage point over the killing fields spread out around the fortress where Imperio had been stationed. He had served the Emperor on the cardinal world of Valos now for his entire life. Long, hard decades had been spent in fiery, loud chambers like the one he had just left. The comparative stillness and quiet of the Observatory landing was almost deafening. The room itself was quite spectacular, it arched up into a hundred foot ceiling and a now covered dome that reached out over the battlements. When uncovered, the outlook showed the landscape for miles down the walls on either side, and even further straight ahead where the barren killing grounds gave way to dense cityscape that were used to house the billions of faithful that flocked to the planet on their pilgrimages.

Imperio saw the Mechanicum priest standing at theedge of the battlements, his hand resting on gold aquilas etched into the railing. Imperio coughed, and the vast chamber swallowed the sound whole, giving him back some monstrous roar as the simple sound danced off the hard surfaces and was lost in the darkness above. The priest turned and Imperio shuddered at the face that looked out under folds of tooled fabric. The Mechanicum disciple had very little of his flesh remaining on what once would've been his face. A respirator jutted out from what had to have been his lower jaw at one time and mechanical eyes gleamed a fiery golden beneath their shadowy hood. In his hand was held a vicious axe with the sacred markings etched into the metal. Mechanized arms buzzed and hissed as the priest lifted the axe and turned to face Imperio, and when he spoke a monotonous baritone echoed through the vast room which oddly enough only amplified the sense that the man was speaking through a small turbine in a crowded engine room.

“Good, Taskmaster.” He rasped “I was hoping that the boy would be quicker, he shall have to be disciplined for his sloven and careless ways.”

“He didn't waste any time finding me, sire, I promise you, it is a vast area he had to cover.”

“It is good you speak in his defense, perhaps only a warning this time.” The priest turned and placed the axe in front of him on the railing. “Please, join me Disciple, I wish for you to see something.”

Imperio hesitated, then thought better of it and began to walk the distance towards the figure before him, wondering how much of it was man and how much machine.

“Do not be frightened, the Machine Spirit will protect you, you have my word.” The cowl turned to look at him in what was probably meant to be a reassuring glance, but only came across as terrifying.

“Thank you, your Grace”

“Do not thank me, see to your daily devotions if you want to give your thanks.”

“Of course, forgive me.”

“There is nothing to forgive.” The priest turned and placed a mechanical finger on the man's forehead, drawing a shiver from Imperio. The finger stayed put as the conversation continued.

“I have reports that the servo installments on sectors 17 through 23 are still inoperable, as well as numerous counts of damaged weapons and battlements that are still not fully repaired.”

“We sustained heavy losses during the previous invasions, My Lord, I haven't had time nor manpower to appease the Machine God, nor have I...”

“Do you lack faith, Taskmaster?” The metallic voice scratched through Imperio's words.

“Of course not, Holiness...”

“This is a holy fortress, is it not? Taskmaster?”

“Yes, your Grace.”

“And do you have faith in the Machine Spirit, and in your Emperor to protect you?”

“Of course, My Lord, the Astartes and the Guard have been His instruments in driving the Xenos and the Heretic from our world, we were witnesses to that glorious day, of course I have faith in Him.”

“Those are good answers, but I am worried for your salvation.” The finger began pressing harder against Imperio's skin.“Are you prepared for another trial of your faith?”

“My Lord?” Imperio struggled not to show signs of pain or weakness as the finger dug itself into his forhead.

“It seems as though the cleansing fire of the previous battles was only a prelude to the tribulations yet ahead, I fear you may not survive them.” The priest turned to look at Imperio, something bronze fell from the folds of his robes. Something whispered in the back of the Taskmaster's mind that the bronze amulet was important, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from the Priest's gaze to look at it. The finger continued to press, and he felt a warm sensation as drops of blood began to trickle past his eye.

“You see, I do not know if your Emperor will be able to depend on you, for the fires haven't died. They have but smoldered, and a cleansing wind has come to us now to burn the impure, the false from among the faithful, you might say. There will be blood given to fuel this fire! Come, child! Gaze upon the coming crucible!” The priest raised the axe and knocked three times upon the ground with the pommel. As if on command, the blast shield began to pull back, the grinding gears and shrieking metal deafening even to Imperio. “Gaze upon the destruction and despair, ye faithful!”

Imperio stared out in disbelief at what lay before him. The cities burned, red smoke curled into the skies and green fireballs wracked the cityscape in a hellish glow. In the middle of the killing fields giant orbs of cackling blue lightning swirled in complex and impossible patterns as wicked-looking beautiful warriors emerged from their depths and began charging towards the walls. A veritable sea of green surged out from the cityscape and poured towards the complex. In the skies above one could see flaming Rokks as they entered the already polluted atmosphere and burst into flame as they came to deliver their vile payloads. Elegant barges cruised effortlessly across the battlefield. For as far as the eye could see, vile Xenos poured towards the fortress in numbers that no servitor could tally. Though hundreds were felled by the autoguns and perimeter defenses, thousands were there to take the place of each one gunned down or blown apart by mines.

“That's impossible!” Imperio whispered. The priest released his pressure from the Taskmaster's head and the man fell to his knees.

“Now you understand the true extent of your folly: you serve a dead god. Where is he now?” The priest looked down at Imperio, grabbing his jaw and forcing him to look up into his mechanical eyes. Imperio's eyes finally rested on the bronze amulet and what he saw caused him to groan inwardly; it was one of the forbidden symbols. Arrows moving out from an enclosed circle, an unblinking eye in the middle of the circle.

“The Emperor protects!” Imperio rasped.

“No. He doesn't.” The traitor cooed. He would have grinned were he able, instead he lifted the axe.

****Intercepted transmission*****
Unknown send date
Signal origination: Venta System
Destination: Dagon system, Planet Valos
File is corrupted due to its encrypted transmission pattern, not all data was retrievable.

Begin transmission:

This is Commander <irretrievable data> we have received <irretrievable data> and are looking to move to assist! Please do not des<irretrievable data> We are coming! Our orders are to assist by means of <irretrievable data> ing the surface. Initiate protocol 13 Alpha Theta 9. Your orders are to stay put and hold your ground! You are <irretrievable data> alone! Do <irretrievable data> despair! The Emperor protects and will <irretrievable data>! D<irretrievable data> thing that will let the enemy suspect <irretrievable data>. The safety question is <irretrievable data> with the answer of a Fenrisian Wolf on a warm day! You are not <irretrievable data> …................

<irretrievable data>
<irretrievable data>
<irretrievable data>
<irretrievable data>
<irretrievable data>

End Transmission.

Very well written.

Allllll the heresy! haha

Heresy is in the eye of the beholder

Dark Mechanicus FTW!

Yes, oddly following along nicely with the background my group has been aiming for .

A vicious shuddering thrum stroked the rusty, pitted decks of the space hulk ‘Da Big Wun’, accompanied by a cacophony of different alarms scavenged from a hundred worlds. The din was a living thing, a gestalt of many different voices.

On the one hand was the blare of Imperium-made vox-casters, on another the soft chiming of an Eldar device. A chatter-chatter of a punched tape reporting the damage to the vast ship was particularly annoying, and ‘Uge Mek Grabwotz was sincerely regretting looting it from the wreck of the Salamanders Chapter battle-cruiser he’d run into back in the Venta System.

His massive arm rose, steam hissing from his joints, and a clanking steel claw the size of a cannon mount punched through the archaic brass-bound machine, ripping it’s mounting from the wall. A square foot of hull plating came with it as the powered Klaw tore the hull apart, revealing a dark vista of stars beyond.

Foul air raced past Grabwotz’s massive armoured bulk as he stuck his face to the hole to take a look. A binary star lay beyond, five planets looping around the stellar dance with stately grace.

‘Oi! Badrekk! ‘Ow many sunz az da Inon system got?’ he bellowed above the howl of escaping atmosphere.

‘One I fink, boss! Why?’

‘Cos I seez two uv dem getting’ pers’nal in da middle uv dis system, dats why! Yer brung uz to da wrong place!’
Badrekk spat out a heartfelt ‘Zog it!’ in frustration, before seizing one of the grot riggers that were scurrying around the bridge ineffectually. He took a look out into the cold of space for himself, and saw the same sight that his boss had, which didn’t improve his mood at all. He rammed the squealing grot into the breach. ‘Get sum Burnaz on dat ta seal it up! Da noiz is gettin’ annoyin! ‘

A Burna team raced across the deck from the special fire-proof holding pen stenciled ‘DAMAGE CONTROL’ in fading Gothic script, reeking squig-oil promethium jetting from their long flamethrowers. The hapless grot bubbled, blackened and shrieked its last, its mesh tunic, helmet and remains welded to the breach in the hull by the heat.

Grabwotz stalked over to the melted grot and prodded the red-hot remains with the snout of his Kustom Mega-Blasta. The hull repair seemed solid enough, so he shrugged, armour clanking, and turned to the read-outs jury-rigged across the bridge.

‘Where da zog iz we den? We wuz goin’ to da big Waaagh! in da Inon system, larst I recall tellin’ ya! ‘

Kaptin Reely Badrekk spoke up again, cringing slightly at his boss’s tone. Da boss wazn’t ‘appy. When da boss wazn’t ‘appy fings got broke. Fings like skullz and armz and legz and stuff.

‘Dunno boss! Da spinnyfing is busted royally, an’ yer floaty-skull-fing don’t talk ter me! ‘

Grabwotz considered that. ‘Fair enuff! Letz ask da littul git den! ‘

He reached into the fetid armpit of his mega-armour with his Klaw, and extracted a human skull and spine riddled with sparking, damaged cybernetic implants. He grabbed it by it’s dangling spine and gave it a good shaking.

‘Oi! Where iz we yer stoopid ded ‘oomie!’

Fzzt *** Geospatial readout***Fzzt***…Location is Valos, Dagon System, Lord Inqu ***fzzzt***… isitor. Distress call received from duly *** fzzzzzt *** authorized Imperial commander. Message as follows..***

A hazy outline of a tall, stark man in the uniform of a high-ranking Commissar appeared as a projection from the Servo-Skull’s cyberoptic, and began to speak in a harsh, grating voice rich in distortion and flutter from the unit’s damaged vox unit.

‘This is a formal request as adjutant officer of the Dagon System to reinforce Valos. This is a pivotal world as it houses our fighting spirit. I request reinforcements here in forms of fleets and ground troops.’

Fzzzzt *** The officer’s com codes and encryption list him as a Commissar Merces, my lord. Identity and duty posting verified via encrypted subchannel***fzzt*** codes. I have diverted the fleet to their aid, as per your standing *** fzzt *** orders, my Lord. ***

‘Oi Boss!’ the Komms Mek yelled from the smoking, sparking star-com station. ‘dere’s a bunch uv Spikyboyz and Spiky Pointy-earz down dere, grabbin’ all da good fightin’ !! ‘

‘YER WOT?? SOD DAT DEN! TELL DA LADZ TER GET GROUNDSIDE AN’ START CRUMPIN’ BEFORE DE UVVA SKUM GETZ ALL DA GLORY!!’

The Ork invasion of Valos had begun…


**sanctioned by DDWWC Command **

Ranulf walked upon the steps of the great cathedral and stared out at the smoking ruins of Valos through dusty goggles. The stern faces of heroes of the Imperium long past, those towering colossi overseeing the cathedral gates, were toppled. Ranulf watched as his fellows defaced the stone ruins, etching the holy eight pointed star into their features. Plumes of smoke billowed into the sky as the world burned.

Valos, a cardinal world, had long spewed the pus-filled lies of the Imperium. Ranulf had once been a believer in this false creed when he was little more than an unthinking scribe, but the promises of the Dark Powers had opened his eyes. He had joined a great cult, amongst a network of other cults on Valos, and bided his time until the Gods of Chaos decreed the time was right. When the scriers saw the red star in the sky, they knew it was a sign and the Gods did not disappoint – Valos was soon overrun with Chaos Legions, Dark Eldar raiders and greenskins. The defenders had enough on their hands, so when the very people they had thought to protect rose up against them, the deluded slaves of the Emperor were cast down.

As Ranulf walked up the steps, a torrent of blood poured down and sloshed against his boots. He looked up to the tide's source – at the top of the stairs, his brothers in the faith slaughtered Priests and Missionaries of the false Emperor, offering their blood up to the Dark Gods. The fools offered up prayers to their carrion god all along, begging for deliverance before they were martyred wholesale. Yet Ranulf knew that these were the lucky ones. The sadistic Eldar corsairs had enslaved much of the surviving populace, and the stories of their chilling sadism was enough to put Ranulf on edge whenever he saw one.

Ranulf reached the top of the stairs and set foot inside the cathedral. His fellow cultists ran back and forth putting scrolls, detailing the of the exploits of saints and holy wars, to the flame. He walked past row upon row of flaming scrap paper, its destruction a pleasing smell to his nostrils. He grinned underneath his respirator, flashing a twisted smile.

Ranulf soon reached the inner sanctum, where his fellows stood surrounding a single man. The lone man was lying in a heap, and a cultist would occasionally kick him or beat them with their rifle butt. Ranulf parted the circle and stood over the brutalized man. He recognized the figure immediately.

“Cardinal Elias,” Ranulf said with malice. He grabbed the Cardinal's robe and hauled him to his feet.

Cardinal Elias' face streamed blood for a half dozen cuts, his features were badly bruised and his robes were in tatters. Despite this, the Cardinal still had the strength to yell, “Heretic!” with venom in his voice and then spit in Ranulf's face.

Ranulf wiped the spit and blood away and then bashed Elias with his autogun in the gut. The priest went down to his knees in pain. “You are privileged,” Ranulf said, coldly. “For your whole life you have lived under the dominion of a false god. Before you die, you will get to see who the true powers in the galaxy are.”

Elias grimaced. “You cannot shake my faith,” he retorted with pain. “The Emperor protects his faithful.”

Ranulf shook his head and then drew a twisted blade. Before Elias even had time to register what was about to happen, Ranulf plunged it into the Cardinal's chest and then slashed downwards. Elias' eyes widened and he opened his mouth to scream. Ranulf covered his mouth before he could and said: “Take this blood offering my Gods, look upon it in favour for your chosen. Show this unbeliever the foolishness of his ways.”

Ranulf released Elias from his grip and watched as the Cardinal stood agape for a moment before he screamed in agony. Elias writhed violently as his fingernails dug into his scalp. Ranulf knew that he was witnessing the nature of the warp firsthand. The Cardinal's eyes dissolved and a dark light flooded them. A chill entered the room and the cultists began to quake with fear – the form of the Cardinal twisted as a daemon reconstituted the body for its purposes.

Ranulf went down on one knee in respect for the daemon before him. The daemonhost looked down upon him and stared. “My lord,” Ranulf said, “Valos is ours...”

**Also sanctioned by DDWWC Command**

Until the Necrons show up after we've taken control of Molov...

Great stuff guys!

Great work everyone, entertaining reading for sure

Here is another official fluff update for week 2, we're getting all sorts of updates for this week:

Nathaniel looked out over the startling beauty of the glass city. The spires reflected the red light of the dying sun like blood pooling from an open wound. The harsh crimson of the failing light gave off even harsher glares when reflected against the towers and windows of the testament of architecture they represented. Far below, so far in fact that one could almost mistake them for dancing lights, fires blazed in the city streets and black smoke punctuated the otherwise unbroken sunset rays as they cascaded across the flawless buildings standing in stark contrast to the destruction occurring at their bases.

Nathaniel breathed deep, taking in the intoxicating fresh air that the vantage of these higher buildings offered. The atmospheric moderators were able to purify it up here so that it was breathable without contracting Crimson Lung from the fetid fumes that permeated the lower streets. It felt good, it was a foreign sensation for Nathaniel. Growing up an orphan forced to work in factories in the sub-sectors where the shining monoliths towered over him and the toxic fumes of industry and civilization threatened to choke him every day of his life, very few opportunities were afforded to truly take in the beauty that this planet had to offer, which was an absolute shame. But the voices had changed that.

They had come as whispers at first, and only once in awhile. Usually the voices were simple ideas, how to get a man to buy his drink for him, or the right thing to say to a woman to make her blood boil and take him home with her for the night. Simple things like that, then the voices began to grow in their persistence and their volume, giving him ideas as to the injustices he suffered, and how he could fight them. He began to listen more intently. He began to gather followers, at first just an underground gang and then a small discipleship had formed. Next thing he knew he was standing at a head of a veritable church dedicated to some crazy voices in his insane head! But hey, the women, alcohol, and credits had kept pouring in so Nathaniel hadn't complained, until the dreams began.

Impossible dreams, the kind of stuff of nightmares, and always those persistent voices tugging at him and telling him what to do. He finally began to understand his true destiny. He began sending disciples to each of the other planets in the system, especially Ortan Minor, in order to begin sowing the seeds of their new deity. They preached about the falseness the protection of the Emperor provided, and how such a corpse could not possibly hope to prevent the coming storm. They also told of the granter of wishes, those ancient powers that held more power than one dead deity could hope to possess. The down-trodden civilians on those planets had flocked to him in droves and he didn't even have to do the majority of the work, the aristocracy had done most of that for him.

And now, finally, the day had come. The Reckoning. His brothers among the Astartes and the guardsmen had arrived and the signal given and now Inon was burning with righteous indignation, both figuratively and literally. Every last faithful servant to the False Emperor had been rounded up to receive their just rewards for their faith. A sudden whimper pulled Nathaniel back to his own moment as he stepped back into the room from the balcony overlooking the city. The room itself had probably been quite beautiful at one time, with lots of paintings and beautiful carvings etched into the stone all the way around, all of that was gone now. Warped effigies had been laid over the previous owners' art work and several bodies lay strewn throughout the room in various repugnant positions dependent on the depravity of the “artist” who had done his work. In the middle of the room was a massive bed, and in that bed was a lone woman. A young woman, barely old enough to carry the title, and a daughter of a rich aristocrat here on this planet. Her face was badly swollen from the beatings she had received the night before and her wrists were bleeding where the sharp razorwire that had been used to bind her to the bed had left small cuts in her flesh.

“Oh my dear! I have not forgotten about you, come! I have something to show you!” Nathaniel spoke in soothing tones as he approached the bed and casually pulled out a cruelly curved blade. Leaning forward ever so slowly he reached out and sliced through the razorwire that bound her. She recoiled and put her hands up in a defensive position, but Nathaniel sheathed his knife and reached gently out to her and pushed her hair softly out of her face. She flinched but seemed too scared or hurt to do more than that.

“Now my pet, I would like to show you something, one last thing and then I promise to let you go. You have my word.” Nathaniel's face was pulled into an earnest smile and he extended his hand out to her. The girl stared at him for a few minutes, searching his face for lies or deceit. Finding none, she cautiously reached up and took his outstretched hand. Nathaniel pulled her to her feet and placed his arm around her waist to help support her as they walked, he steered her towards the view he had just been enjoying.

“Answer me a few questions about yourself my bird, did you grow up here in this building?” Nathaniel looked over at her as she tried to avoid his gaze. She gave a sharp nod of her head. “Ah, then this view is one you have enjoyed since childhood, then?” Another sharp nod.

“Yes” she managed to whisper in a cracked voice.

“Good! That is wonderful! You were truly fortunate to have grown up with such beauty right outside of your window! I myself didn't have anything to compare this to, well except for the height, anyways.” By now they had made it out onto the spacious balcony and stared out over the city. White clouds had begun rolling in below where they now stood, hiding the carnage below the surface. Everything seemed pristine, like it had before the rebellion had begun.

“When I was young, we had this deep shaft that I had no idea what it was for. My mother told me that it was a foundation for a new building, but that the funding had been pulled before the foundations could be set in place, and so they had just left this gaping hole that was miles deep just open and exposed in my childhood neighborhood like a festering wound.” Nathaniel stopped and placed the young woman in front of him so that she could look out at the city scape in front of her and slid both arms around her waist in an embrace and nuzzled into the nape of her neck, she stiffened but didn't dare move. Nathaniel continued his speech, “I used to love going to that bottomless pit and throw stones and pieces of garbage down there and listen to see if I could hear it hit the bottom, but I never could. No matter how big the item that I pushed into that hole, even if there were screams, I could never tell when it would hit the bottom. Quite the fascination I had, but then I was just a normal kid, anyone else who grew up in that area did the same exact thing. Well, maybe not the exact same thing, but close enough. There's just something completely thrilling for a child to see something fall into an abyss, almost like it's flying, weightless, unperturbed. I spent many hours in that place thinking such things.”

Nathaniel slowly turned the maiden around to look him in the face. He smiled in his most disarming way as he slid the blade of his knife into her stomach. “I wonder,” he said as he watched the life drain out of her eyes, “Do you think I'll hear you hit the bottom?”


Automatically Appended Next Post:
***This is a DDWC official post***

Great fluff! Top notch

great stuff guys.

First update for Week 3:

The skies were burning. Bright red tongues licked across the sky and the ground was wet with blood. The stars had fallen from their pilgrimages across the sky and the moon sat as solitary witness to the despair below. Over the mountains to the north stood a lone figure, laughing. The gnashing of his teeth sending sparks to the cities at the base of the range. People burned as the red tongues licked their flesh from their bones and bleached smiles stared out from beneath blackened skin stretched taught around dead eyes that reflected the evil fires even as they were consumed by them. Mortal warriors struggled against gods and fell beneath their feet, buried by the very hands that had once protected them. The silence wept at the sight, and the bubbling grandfather laughed in his decaying throne.

Inon burned. The entire collection of planets was ablaze in the light of chaos. Visions of debauchery, violence, excess, disease, filth, pestilence, anger, death and pain danced across the worlds brought low by the servants of the dark gods. A voice that was both a whisper and a scream echoed throughout the void of space, silencing the other acts of hedonism in a shrill commanding tone.

“I see you, lost parents of Slaanesh,” the voice reverberated, “This is the fate that you have chosen? This is the end you have come to meet? The bravery you would leave as a legacy to your dying race will die, just like these stars you have witnessed as they sputter and die in the passing of our shadows, so to will your arrogant people fall cold and pass away in some forgotten corner of your dimension!” The voice tore at the very fabric of reality and frayed the edges of sanity. A grotesque mouth formed, giving a source for the voice, its broken and decayed teeth forming the foul syllables,“You feel it, don't you, young one? You feel the weariness. The terrible loss of equilibrium as you drift closer to oblivion. Come to me... I will give you the sweet release you wish for! Come to my breast, child, and welcome the eternity of nothingness that you so long for!” The mouth stretched in a horrendous scream and lunged forward...

* * * *

Farseer Anduin Saim-An' sat up swiftly from his cot, sweat pouring down his face, his chest heaving in an attempt to smother him with oxygen. The sudden stillness of the room surrounded him with aching clarity. After a few moments, Anduin rose and walked over to a display and pulled up what the humans had sent him as far as status reports for the various systems. Inon was under siege, but the forces of order were still in the fight there. Then it had been a vision of the future? Perhaps... the dreams were coming with more regularity now. He hardly went a night without being visited by such horrible images. Shaking his head, the aged eldar walked over to the comm and keyed in his subordinate.

“Set a course for Inon, and wake me when we arrive.”

“Of course, sire.”

Anduin moved to his cot once again. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he stared at the wall, some part of him still too tense to sleep because with sleep would come more of the dreams. And he was so weary...

Yes please.

Whats this - even spreadsheet errors get fluff now? (joke) - Top notch stuff

well..yeah

How else do you explain some of the codex fluff out there

Another week 3 Fluff, Written by iGuy91.

****Incoming Video Transmission****
System Antropos:
Planet: Namba
Classification: Death World
Source: Firebase Sanctus Imperator

A haggard looking guardsman stands at attention, his , once resplendent uniform muddy and worn. He snaps a salute, before standing at-ease to speak. Behind him, the sun was barely visible, sinking ever lower below the tree line,
“This is Lance-Captain Tiberius, Elysian 22nd. Things on Namba are bad, we have traitors and xenos crawling across the planet, my men are running themselves ragged trying to keep up with the requests for air support that we keep receiving. Our birds are grounded for now, the tech priests need to see to them… One thing however, bothers me, we keep sending patrols to see what the Necrons are doing…sir…they seem to be….digging….I can’t understand what for. I can’t risk sending another flyover, their air support has been tight since their ships achieved orbit. We lost one bird the other day, and almost a second on a rescue operation, all hands were lost”

As the man continued to speak, a thick mist rolled in behind him, blacker than the blackest night….sets of Emerald Eyes glowing from within it. In moments, the telltale signs of Gauss Blaster fire erupted from the cloud, and the screams of dying men could be heard on the air. A bolt struck next to the recording system, knocking it, and in the resultant explosion, the captain to the floor in a shower of rubble. The scene devolved into a hellish, vertigo-causing catastrophe as the captain to his credit, managed to pull his side arm, and unleash a pair of shots, screaming “ELYSIA!!!” before he was shot dead by a towering skeletal Immortal, leaving a blackened skeleton in its wake.
“Target…Eliminated…Continuing Sweep” came a grating response to the action, as the figure stalked out of the bunker and into the night sky.

****Transmission Ends****
-There is only the Emperor-

The outpost hadn’t lasted long, the few survivors fled into the jungle at night, leaving most of their gear behind, and likely to face certain death within. Such matters were below Xerxius, as he strode amongst the wreckage of the base. Bypassing the formidable point defenses via several squads of Immortals with Veils of Darkness had proven 92% effective, and the defenders had been caught unawares. The prize, however, had been the aircraft by which he now stood. Without them, the Forces of Order would be less able to mobilize quickly, and unable to interrupt the pillaging of the world’s exorbitant mineral wealth.

That site had been secured following a successful landing on the world, swarms of scarabs kept the jungle at bay, while fighters patrolled the skies, and rapid reaction forces pushed ever outwards from the landing zone. Such strategems of control had proven effective before, and continued to do so now, attackers being thwarted at every turn, capped by this most recent attack.

“Teletrix” Signaled Xerxius to his favored Cryptek in Orbit
“Yes my lord” came the prompt reply
“Did their signal get through?”
“Of course not my Lord, I doubt the primitives even knew they were being jammed”
“Excellent, see that deathmark teams are deployed to this location, and release the signal in 4 standard hours, they will send reinforcements.”
“As you wish”


One point however bothered the Overlord, standing there in the humid night sky, dew forming on his cold, skeletal form. The…other Dynasties, had been abnormally quiet. As befits their function and station, Overlords enjoyed gloating over their latest victories to their rivals, or at least making them known. Since the armada had left after sucking the Entirety of Masali, and the World Engine into the Webway, and The Bedouin fleet had translated out of system, there had been precious little contact. Perhaps…they had been destroyed? That seemed very unlikely at the hands of such lower beings, especially due to the number of prominent Dynasties represented. However…with such setbacks, came opportunities. If they were gone, the World Engine would be his, and his alone, the crown jewel in his quest for power.

“All in good time, then they will bend knee to their betters, like it or not.”

So... theres a world engine floating around Inon, gotta be a story there right .

I would pay to read this ... good thing dakka's free

^that guy^ needs a medal...

Thanks guys!

Somewhere above Lucan Sigma




Sequestered Inquisitional Files, Authorized persons only
File: 3G4B72
Reference: Haven
Please enter Your Authorization Code
Password: *********************

Validating……..
Thank you Inquisitor Umarus
You may proceed……

To: Sector Inquisitional command,
From: Detachment D-44
Inquisitors Umarus (Ordos Xenos) and Adrastia (Ordos Hereticus) Commanding.


My investigations into the Ventra Sub-sector have been a vital success. As the ruinous powers have pushed on Cadia and the 13th black crusade marches on, I am pleased to report on all sectors that the second fronts have held. Although the worlds of Valos and Volkh I / Volkh Secundus were lost in the last days of the offensive, other successes by the Space Marines and Imperial Guard were able to reclaim much of the Inon System in the Emperor’s name.

Detachment D-44 made planet fall on the world of Lucan Sigma searching for what has been come to known as the Haven 1st infantry. These “Free Krieg” of the former 89TH Krieg were last seen on the world of Haven before that world was subjected to the ultimate judgment of exterimantus (Reference: subfields 2.1B). How Colonel Lentz and his men survived the judgment I have no doubt can only lead us to darker answers. Marines working with the Traitor regiment were found to be of the former XX legion (Alpha Legion) when encountered on week 4 whist digging around an old adeptus mech missile silo. Our forces were able to meet the enemy but unable to stop their stealing of the technology. References from the tech priest have been…most hesitant to offer what the former legionaries might’ve stolen from that missile silo.

What is known is that roughly ten years ago, the men of the 89TH Krieg regiment were sent to the world of Haven to stop a chaos uprising. During this time on planet the world was determined to be unable to be saved due to chaotic enfoldment on the world. Exterminatus was declared. Five years later, reports start appearing of soldiers marching on worlds across the galaxy matching the last known uniforms of the 89th. However, these men are now calling themselves under new names and claiming allegiances. My Detachment was able to track the regiment to the Ventra subsector and followed them from the world of Lucan Sigma to the world of Jurn where our forces were ambushed by a large usage of Tank divisions that hadn’t been attached or known to exist at the last existence of the 89th. Our forces from then on our encountered Alpha legionaries with some elements of the 89th involved in raids on Lucan Sigma.
Whoever their new masters are, I fear that it could mean trouble for us all.

Inquistor Umarus
Ordo Xenos

-The Emperor Protects-

Umarus stared at the screen, then running the fingers through his close cut brown hair he leaned back in the chair and remembered. Lentz had been a great solider, to have to track him down like this….but no that was then. Umarus remembered his recruitment of his agents personally for each and everyone. Assassin Dorian Barbarossa, Tech Priest Litilus Remaus, Senior Lt Jonus Remaus, and many others that had come and gone over the years of his long service to the Emperor. Shaking his head he made a mental note to someday reunite the Remaus brothers before thinking about Lentz again. Come to think of it, how much should he write about Lentz? If word got out that he had been in command when that extermantus was given and that he had left Lentz to die…..No, those records had been sealed by his order. Not even Adrastia would be able to get in to see those disgraceful records. Being a radical member of the Ordo Xenos had its problems at times.

Finally, Umarus looked down at his chrono and noticed that he was running late. Jonus unlike Litilus didn’t like be kept waiting for a debrief after a mission, not that he complained of course. Smiling to himself, Umarus hit the SEND button and shut off the data slate. It was out of his hands now, somebody could clean up the mess.


***This is a DDWC official post***

Silent explosions rocked the empty space surrounding the Imperial Battle Barge The Haven as it moved into position outside of the once-proud Imperial world known as Masali which had become a living nightmare under the direction of diabolical Necron ingenuity. Looking out one of the shuttle bay viewing ports, Inquisitor Malachus stared out at the destruction playing out in the vacuum outside the sheets of plasteel separating him from the nothingness. Spacecraft shuddered and disintegrated as vile green blasts ripped through their hulls. Countless lives were lost as the ships moved into position for the final assault. Malachus sighed and moved over to the Thunderhawk where he and his Gray Knights were preparing their assault by preparing their battle oaths and saying their prayers and dedications to the Emperor.

The system was a mess. Valos was lost, already Exterminatus orders were being processed to send the former cardinal world through a purifying flame. The capital world in the sub-sector had also fallen to Chaos and there was little hope of reclaiming it. Masali here had wreaked bloody and silent vengeance on the planets that surrounded the systems. The heretics and xenos were falling back at this point, but the Imperium had suffered catastrophic casualties, and besides the few forgeworlds that remained intact, the system had been left a shadow of its former self. Emperor watch over those poor souls who were currently under investigation by the Ordo Hereticus and Ordo Malleus. At the end of this campaign the crippling blow dealt to the sector may well have proven to be its downfall. The only victory that was assured is that this system had established a bulwark that the foul denizens of the warp could break against again and again, the citizens who survived the Inquisition would find themselves given over to new incarnations of Cadia. Already genetic manipulation was underway to improve the fertility of the locals who had remained pure in order to boost the birth rate on these planets. Now the only thing left was to pray that there would be enough resistance to hold this new front against the enemy. Only time would tell.

Malachus walked over to the side of the launching craft and gathered up his weapons and battlegear, slowly prepping himself mentally for the coming task. How had they been so blind? How had this all been allowed to happen? Fires burned across the sector, where had the watchful eye of the Emperor been? Why had He allowed the Orks to defile his sacred world of Valos, or kill the members of the council located on the capital world? Had this sector truly been iniquitous as the Ordo Hereticus believed? Could the Emperor have allowed or even engineered such a destructive punishment for those faithless enough to call down his wrath?And what of the faithful Astartes and other soldiers who had fallen in this campaign? Perhaps this was their punishment for fighting alongside the arrogant Eldar... Those Eldar that even now prepared to give their lives alongside Malachus' own soldiers. The same Eldar that, despite his training and conditioning, Malachus had begun to feel a sort of comradery with or if not that then at least a grudging respect. Where would the madness end?

The final preparations were completed. The flight coordinates given and accepted. The thunderhawk's engines began firing. Malachus and his men piled on board and secured themselves against the coming turbulence. With a sickening thrust of motion, the craft sped out the now open blast doors and into the darkness beyond. Malachus felt concussive blasts outside of the transport's hull, rippling through the metal plating with such jarring strength that even with his power armor the inquisitor's teeth rattled from the close call. More blasts came, each one causing more intense vibrations in the ship's bulk. Suddenly one came so close and struck with such force that Malachus knew immediately that this blast had struck home. The pilot radioed over the short wave vox.

“We've been hit, our starboard engine is out, however I think I may still be able to steer us onto the surface, but it isn't going to be an easy landing!”

“Do it! What other choice do we have” Malachus growled back to the pilot.

“Yes sir!” The rattling continued to intensify, Malachus' skin burned from the irritation caused by the constant shifting due to the vibrating turbulence. A sickening sensation hit the inquisitor in the gut as the real gravity caused by Masali began to merge with the artificial gravity from the thunderhawk.

“We're almost there!” The pilot was speaking through clenched teeth “Prepare yourselves! Brace for impact in 5!” The sudden impact of the vessel striking the ground threw the soldiers around the transport area and for a moment the world was a blur of colliding bodies and striking metal, then blood and bone as several of the occupants' suits were torn open and bare flesh was exposed to the cruel bulwark of the ship as it continued its convulsive crash landing. Ultimately, Malachus lost consciousness and all went black.

When he awoke, it was to the face of the brotherhood medic bending over him.

“Good to have you back with us, sir, I think you'll pull through without any injuries. At least not from the crash.”

Malachus moved to wave the Astartes away when a voice crackled over the vox.

“What is going on!? What is happening to the Necron base? Why is it glowing like that?”

And another voice:

“All units pull back! Pull back!”

Malachus refused to be bothered with such petty emotions such as panic and instead turned to the Paladin closest to the door.

“Get that bloody thing open! We need to get out onto the surface now!” he barked and the Paladin obeyed, pushing the door open and pushing his way out.

Outside, the warriors looked up. The sky was indeed glowing a rich, vibrant green. Outlines of giant cruisers and streaking balls of light from ships entering and leaving the planet surface filled the horizon from end to end, interspersed between them were groups of the now familiar stars.

“What the blazes is that? What is happening?” One of the Paladin's asked aloud. Before Malachus could answer there was a blinding flash of light that forced many of the soldiers to fall to a knee and cover their eyes. When the light subsided, the inquisitor blinked and looked at his men, none of them seemed to be hurt, so what had that light been? He couldn't figure it out until he looked up, and then he gasped in horror.

The cruisers, and the familiar stars, were gone. In their place an inky blackness stared back at them...

***This is an official DDWWC post***