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Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/03/15 16:51:01


Post by: chazz huggins


Crusade of Fury 2

General Distress Priority Omega
Relaying Choir Transmission
--DECRYPTING—18%
--DECRYPTING—38%
--DECRYPTING—56%
--DECRYPTING— 71%
--DECRYPTING— 72%
__ERROR__ (WARP INTERFEANCE DETECTATED MESSAGE INCOMPLETE)
*** TRANSMISSION BEGINS ***
(static) This is Lord Governor (static) Payne of Crion. We are under attack, (static) orks unifying. (static) separatist scum. (static) Heretics. We are desperate our PDF is incapable of defending against all these threats. Any Imperial forces in the area we beg of you to come to our aid. Coordinates follow.

On the boarders of the Segmentum Obscurus rests the agricultural world of Crion. For centuries this world has enjoyed a relative amount peace (Bar the occasional feral ork raid) under the protection of the watchful gaze of the blessed god Emperor. That All changed six terran months ago when the world completely fell out of contact with the rest of the Imperium. The initial reports suggest all manner of issues, green skins uniting, heresy taking hold of the populace, and countless other traitors and opportunist xeno scum raise their banner to either steal or despoil this world. Were this a normal world the inquisition would simply have ordered an exterminatus long ago but Crion is far from Normal. This one world provides food for near countless other worlds and its loss would mean the starvation of untold trillions.

The History of Crion begins shortly after the God Emperor ascends to the golden Throne, with an order of astartes sons of the fabled Jaghatai Khan.

In the wake of Horus’s betrayal to the Emperor and the second founding of the Adeptus Astartes a chapter was formed. Known only as the Blood Dragons these fabled warriors were said to be the among the greatest and mightiest chapters ever founded. They won near countless battles throughout the imperium, often turning the tides of war when all hope had fled. Chapter Master Alexisis Polux is quoted with having said “The warp hath no fury like the wrath of the Blood Dragons.” However, in M33 the chapter vanished completely from the face of the Imperium all together, leaving only legends and the ancient ruins upon their home world.

This world (The world we know as Crion) laid unoccupied (Except for the feral orks) until M39 when Rogue Trader Sebastian Paynne rediscovered the world and began the process of colonization. In the two thousand years since Paynne’s rediscovery Crion has become the greatest producer of food in this sector of space, it is very likely they produce more food than any other world in the Imperium. Thanks in large part to the planet’s uncanny ability to grow crops and the most elite harvesting technology in the Imperium. As a reward to Paynne the high lords of Terra decreed a Paynne shall rule over Crion for all time, this is the case now as Tobias Paynne is the current planetary governor of Crion.

However recently Crion fell out of contact with the rest of the Imperium and has stopped its regular exports of food. It is obvious to the adeptus administratum that if Crion fails to restart exporting food to the rest of the sector starvation will begin to take hold. As loyal servants of the Emperor it is your duty to see this world restored to business as usual no matter the costs. If you are a heretic or foul xeno, well than you may have some different plans for this lush garden of eden. The High Lords of Terra want this world back under imperial control, by whatever means possible. In fact, the High Lords of Terra issued what is known as the Crion compact in millennia 40 which guarantees Crion any aid they may need in exchange for their bountiful harvest.

The world itself is separated into three continents Krius (left) Naraya (Center) Indo-Cambria (Right).

The continent of Krius is mostly farm land, but there has always been a great degree of political unrest in this region, even now a man named Horratio Paynne (Governor Paynne’s alleged bastard child.) seeks to overthrow the current government, this band of separatist have been reeking havoc on Krius production.

Naraya is primary continent, like Krius it is another farm covered region only with double the population. In the Dunbar mountains rest the ancient Blood Dragon’s fortress monastery Drake’s Point. Drake’s point has been repurposed from chapter monastery to capital city. As theses halls once reserved for angel’s are now almost infested with mortals though there are parts of this ancient fortress where no man treads as they are locked away, undiscovered, or simply too dangerous to access.

Cambria is completely untamed jungle only one small human city rest here as life or death is never certain thanks to random ork raids and man eating fauna. But the black ore oak that can only be found in this region is a valuable commodity. The PDF of Crion are a mostly unseasoned and untested lot as Crion has always been relatively quite compared to the rest of the Imperium. On occasion orks from Cambria will attempt raids on the main lands with primitive wood long boats, but they are always sunk before they even come close to the main land. However, this easy life style is untrue for the guardsmen stationed on Cambria as they are at constant war with the orks, and are required to master jungle warfare, these men are the finest Crion has to offer.

Luna Maximus is the largest body orbiting Crion and is home to the Avar mountains. The people of Woten are a hardy and insular lot. These mountain men rarely make contact with loyal imperials, diplomacy with them is hard as they speak neither high, nor low gothic.

Luna Epsilon. Known to the locals commonly as the “The Dragon’s Throne.” MT Gorgon was said to be a holy sight to the Blood Dragons, it is legend that a vengeful spirit stalks the snowy peaks, none of the locals dare to venture there.

The fate of Crion rests in your mighty hands, will you be its savior or its destroyer. The time has come to ready your armies, to unleash the beasts of war, today is the Dawn of the Second Sun.

please visit our out of character chat room

http://www.dakkadakka.com/dakkaforum/posts/list/673360.page

Crion
Spoiler:





Luna Maximus
Spoiler:





Luna Epsilon
Spoiler:





Map Key
Spoiler:


Imperium of Man:

force War Kitten- Imperial Knights, House Valorn- Moon #1, Kikkari Desert. Red and lightning Aquilla

Jhe90- Space Wolves, and Auxiliary forces- Moon #1, Kikkari Desert. Wolf Logo

BobtheHero- Tempestus Scions- Crion, Tarragon. Eye patch skull

Buttery Commissar- Rogue Trader House/Adeptus Mechanicum. Red Mechanicum logo

Tactical_Spam- Arbiters of Truth- Moon #1, Kikkari Desert. 3 Stars

Irishpeacockz-Emperor's Hounds- Moon #1, Zeverin's Landing. Purple Hound

chazz huggins- Inquisition/Grey Knights- Crion, Eynov. Blue Inquisition I

Kharne the Befriender- Charcarodons Astra- Crion, Clerth. Grey Shark

Sgt. Vanden- Dorn’s Wish- Moon #1, Namrex Dunes. Green Astartes logo

Chaos Super Friends:

Tainted- Red Corsairs- Moon #2, Gaffrehon. Black gauntlet

TheEyeOfNight- Flayed Legion- Moon #2, Dierdra. Black skull with reticle

Ezra Tyrius- The Remnants- Crion, Site Delta. Clock diamnds

Xenos:

2BlackJack1- Kroot Mercenaries- Crion, Governor's Mansion. Horned Xeno skull on brown

Kharne the Befriender- Necron Dynasties- Moon #2, Yankor. Gold Ankh

Sgt Smudge- Tau- Crion, Kalhoon. Black and White Tau logo w/ red dot

EvergreenArcher- Tyranids- Crion, Pike-Ard Yellow nid icon on purple

War Kitten- Craftworld Iybraesil- Crion, Frov Gold and Blue Eldar logo

2BlackJack1- WAAAAGH BadToof- Moon #1, Koncerd Red and Blue ork skull on green checkers

Palleus- Da Iron Horde- Crion, Grim. Ork Rook on green plate

VladimirUhl- Flayed Ones- Crion, Spiri. Steel and Red Necron Logo

Robin5t- Eldar Harlequins- Crion, Jorgon. Black Eldar Symbol

The_Grey_Knight- Eldar Harlequins. Spikey S on black and Orange diamonds


Orbital Space Station

[spoiler]


Timeline of the Crion Crusade

Spoiler:


Timeline of the Crion Crusade (Thanks to Sgt_Smudge)

- The history of Crion begins shortly after the Emperor ascends to the Golden Throne. In the wake of Horus’s betrayal to the Emperor, and the splitting of the Space Marine Legions, the Chapter was formed from the remnants of the White Scars Legion. Known only as the Blood Dragons, these fabled warriors were said to be the amongst the greatest Chapters founded. They settle upon Crion, a tactically important world in the Segmentum Obscurus. It's position amidst the Warp currents allows for easy access to and from Crion, aiding the Chapter in rapid reaction to local threats.

- The Blood Dragons Chapter disappear in an unknown incident around about M33, and abandon the planet to the native Wotan people. In M39, the White Scars descendants are replaced by Imperial colonists, led by the founder of House Payne, Sebastian Payne, who turns Crion into a burgeoning agri-world. For his success, it is decreed by the High Lords of Terra themselves that a Payne must rule over Crion. For the next hundreds of years, a Payne is always in the Governor's throne, culminating in Governor Tobias Payne.

- Horatio Payne, bastard son of Governor Tobias Payne, rallies the disgruntled countrymen of Crion to his side, naming themselves the Tillers. The Governor has been spending too many funds on himself and attempting to rid the world of a feral ork infestation, instead of tending to the masses. The Tillers fight against the Governor, who dispatches PDF forces to fight the rebel uprising. War is joined, and brother fights brother.

- The war reaches a stalemate, and Crion goes silent. Governor Tobias Payne sends out a distress call to the wider Imperium, to rid him of both the Tillers and the growing numbers of Orks in the neighbouring continent of Indo-Cambria. The Crion Compact is initated: a decree issued by the High Lords in M40, which guarantees Crion any aid they may need, in exchange for their bountiful harvest.
Due to Crion's status as an vital agri-world in the sector, which supplies most of the sub-sector with the vast tithes of food and sustenance the Imperium needs, several Chapters of Adeptus Astartes and regiments of Imperial Guard heed the Governor's call.

- Either going on their own accord, attracted by the vast mobilisation of troops and resources, or simply by chance, multiple factions, Chaos and xenos alike, make their way into the Crion system, with the xenos forces being spread out, and the Chaos forces gravitating towards Crion's second moon of Luna Epsilon. More factions join the fray over the coming months.

- The main population point on the Luna Epsilon, Hive Cogger, falls shortly after the Chaos landings, taken by Chaos cultists under the command of the mysterious Flayed Lord. It is later attacked by Orks, which the Flayed Legion repel.

- The Space Wolves engage in peace talks with the native Wotan people, to understand the legacy and events surrounding the disappearance of the Blood Dragons Chapter stationed on Crion.

- A Kroot warband bargain their services to Governor Payne. They serve as his personal guard, a defence from assassins, and unsuccessfully attempt to murder a Tiller officer in Kampf's Anchorage.

- A meeting is held at the Governor's palace, wherein delegates of each Imperial faction discuss and plan the war effort. Negotiations are interrupted when Ork saboteurs assault the palace from the sea. The raiders are driven back, but many personnel are wounded and the palace is damaged in the attack.

- Following the capture of an Eldar Warlock with knowledge of a Harlequin and Eldar alliance, several of the Space Marine strikeforces join together and re-affirm their bonds of brotherhood through ritual combat as the Governor launches a fresh campaign against the Eldar.

- The underwater city of AHC-02 is taken by an alliance of Tillers and Tau from Sunstrike Cadre. The Tillers use the base to strike coastal towns and hives all over Crion.

- An ancient dragon is awakened from the mountains overlooking Hive Cogger by Father Lazarus. This prompts massive tectonic disruption, and a new sub-cult within the Flayed Legion.

- Harlequins raid a Blood Dragons library and acquire a history and relics pertaining to the extinct Chapter. They find evidence of Necron and Ork involvement in the Chapter's destruction.

- Scions try to eliminate a major Tiller leader, Major O'Connell, in New Pavus, but fail in the attempt. They are forced to rescue their captured men and directly assist the PDF and Blood Fort troopers. New Pavus is put under martial law, and O'Connell escapes into the slums.

- Sergeant Turlach and Captain Xenthes of the Emperor's Hounds and Stone Wardens respectively are killed on duty. Turlach brings down a Squiggoth, but Xenthes' cause of death is undetermined.

- A Tyranid incursion in Pike-ard makes massive progress, eliminating several Ork tribes and spreading the taint of their biomass. An aquatic bioform is created, and takes a foothold elsewhere on the mainland of Krius.

- Another Imperial meeting is called, at the Emperor's Hounds stronghold of Canis Caelum. The delegation discusses their current progress and a plan of action against an Ork Gargant leading an assault on the Space Elevator. However, upon presenting the severed head of Tiller officer Francis Beacon, the Governor's Kroot bodyguard is revealed and shunned by the xenophobic Astartes. A brawl breaks out, and the meeting is adjourned.

- Waaagh! Hannibal and Sunstrike Cadre form an alliance and destroy Warboss SkullEater and his fortress. His offworld support brings a massive armada to engage the Tau fleet, but are defeated. The Big Boss reveals himself as none other than Warboss Nox Warprida. Warprida asks Hannibal to side with him, but the Big Mek, in no uncertain terms, rejects the offer.

- The Gargant and it's horde of other mechanised units are slowed by a massed Imperial counter-attack, protecting the Space Elevator. Airdropping Guardsmen sabotage the Gargant from the inside, destroying it, and the Astartes put up a strong defence against the onslaught of iron.

- Hive Cogger, after a long and bloody campaign, is retaken by the Imperium. The allied Chaos coalition is stopped before it can summon the Daemon Prince Archarus, and is forced aside by the Imperial battleforce arrayed against it, and flee the hive. The current whereabouts of the Flayed Legion forces are unknown.

- The Tiller siege on New Pavus is broken by an allied covert force from Sunstrike Cadre, splitting the city in two. An elite team of Tillers, Gue'vesa troops, and a mercenary team, assassinate Rodrick Payne, the nephew to Governor Payne and commander of the New Pavus PDF, leaving Payne without an heir.



The Crion Index

Spoiler:
COF II index

Player Characters 

Imperium

Stone Wardens Space Marines

Odius Benturas -Chaplain w/t Crozius Arcanum and Bolt pistol (however wargear may vary in circumstances) Veteran of many wars, dislike of Inquisition and heresy (like all Space Marines), Last remaining Chaplain in Chapter, and as such, demands the very best from his men. Gruff in manner, and will not warm to others quickly. Superlative warrior, and will challenge anything larger than him. 

Ceasar Xenthes -Captain w/t Relic Blade and Stalker-pattern Bolter and Artificer armour (Wargear may also vary) Captain of the 10th Company, selects only the best recruits, and demands a lot of them. Enjoys drinking with friends (who are usually made via drinking). Values the lives of his Marines above most else, even other Imperials. Superlative marksman, but still skilled with the sword. 

Cedric Akagawa -Company Champion, last one of Chapter. Master-crafted custom made Power sword, Custom Combat Shield. Best swordsman in the Chapter. Is still trying to prove self to his peers. Not talkative, but when he does talk, it is usually smart to listen to him.

Inquisitor Garrett Randal warband

Garrett Randal: A man in his late thirties Randal is somewhat of a novice to the order, seen as an unexperienced Inquisitor, his mentor was an old man named Roche Lafayette who passed on several years ago, Randal believes the Ends do not always justifies the means, though that is no reason to be grim. He fears his duty will change him, while he accepts this might happen he would like to remain himself. His retinue is rather unsure of him, their opinions are mixed. Description: Wears carapace armor and a tattered black long coat, carries a plasma pistol and a power sword.

Brother Captain Athenar: Grand Master Leorac assigned Athenar and his men to Lord Inquisitor Roche, when Roche’s protégée took command of Roche’s assets Athenar felt obligated to remain with Randal, he had respect for Roche as he knew him to be a true servant of the god Emperor. It is Athenar's hope that Randal can prove himself worthy to take his mentor’s place in the inqustion, if Randal should fail it would be to Athenar he answers he is both his protector and his handler. Description: Tan skinned usuallt wheres his psychic hood.

Paladin Utilitarius: Assigned to Athenar’s protection Utilitarius is a battle hardened marine for whom the ends always justify the means. He has unrelenting hatred for the taint of chaos and xenos and contempt for both humans and other Astartes, he serves only the god Emperor and the order. Description: Pale and clean shaven with two service bolts in his head.

Justicar Freeman: The leader of squad Shogun Brother Freeman is seen as oddly light hearted for his order. He is hard to dislike regardless of an individual’s opinion of the Grey Knights. But make no mistake he is completely loyal in his duty and has enforced the Grey Knights no witness policy in the past. Description: A youthful marine with dark skin and his black hair kept in a short Mohawk

Commissar Jethro Alenko: A veteran of the Chardon crusade and apprentice to Commissar Jack Sheppard, Jethro received his own command. Unfortunately, he was assigned to 4892nd Penal legion. Jethro is unaware who he angered to get assigned such a low company but the young Commissar has opted to make the best of his situation. Description: Alenko lost his left arm on Gallor Prime but has had it replaced with a bionic limb. His bionic arm is less clunky than many other bionic implants and operates like a normal hand with a few bonuses like a mechanical grip. Commissars uniform, power sword, plasma pistol.

Warden Hoffman: Warden Tulliy Hoffman is responsible for the unruly prisoners that make up 4892 penal legion. He despises his charges viewing them a little more than a servitors to throw at the enemy. As an Arbite Hoffman saw the worst humanity had to offer and believes the emperor’s holy law is the only thing of any real value. Description: Standard Arbite Gear, bolt pistol, stun baton, Helmet, armor, and favorite knife. Short cropped hair is greyed and his left eye replaced by a bionic implant after an encounter with an unruly prisoner

Captain Amanda Kid: Captain Kid is the commander of Inquisitor’s most elite henchmen. Kid joined up with Randal willingly and had the good fortune to retain her memories of her time in the Mordian Iron Guard. Description: Inquisitorial Storm Trooper armor, Bolt Pistol, and Power axe. dark skin and short black hair shaven on one side of her head.

Prisoner 3434: 1 account of Murder. Description: Flakk armor, orange jumpsuit, las gun

Prisoner 1597: 19 accounts of Insubordination. Description: Flakk armor, orange jumpsuit, las gun

Arbitrator Halouck: The Arbite squad leader of Squad 37582 “The Jackals” Both prisoners 3434 and 1597 are attached to this squad. 

House Valorn

Moira Valorn- Eldest of the 4 Valorn Children, and the newly ascended High Queen of the Valorn House. Generally a very serious person, although as of late she has shown a great eagerness for battle with the enemies of Mankind. Pilots the Knight Castigator Spear of Light 

Amanda Valorn- Second eldest of the 4 Valorn Children, and High Queen Moira's Kingsward (aka bodyguard). Generally a kind and gentle soul. Pilots the Knight Lancer Righteous Fury 

Sera Valorn- Third eldest of the 4 Valorn Children, and she holds the title of Herald. Typically hot-headed, but a very cunning tactician. Pilots the Knight Atrapos Unwavering Faith 

Cassius Valorn- Youngest of the 4 Valorn Children, and holds the title of Baron. Very serious personality. Pilots the Knight Acheron Unyielding 

Captain Falkon- Defacto leader of the armsmen of House Valorn. Very devoted to House Valorn, as they saved his life a few years ago, and so he swore to serve them for as long as they need him. Veteran of the Chardon Crusade

Sergeant Ada- Falkon's second-in-command. Typically hot-headed, but shows great promise as a tactician

Bloodmoon Hunters Space Marine Chapter 2nd Company

Tech-Captain Jensen of 2nd Company - A unique tech-marine originating from the Bloodmoon Hunters homeworld whose abilities in the arena of combat as well as the technological lead him to lead the unique 2nd Company.

Iron Father Issac - The spiritual leader of the 2nd Company making sure that the members of the company doesn't fall into corruption in their pursuit of technology to uplift the imperium.

487th Lunar Venatorii 'Panther' Calvary Regiment - Wyrm Riders

Colonel Raven - Hard nose leader of the Calvary regiment. His Cowboy attitude and lateral intelligent approach to Tactical problems leads his regiment to victory. He is heavily augmented and a Wyrm rider who leads from the front.

Sergeant Holliday - Wyrm Rider Squad Leader who organizes patrols and greets most new comers to the main HQ camp.

Carcharodons

Taranis the Destroyer: Captain of the Carcharodons 9th Predation Fleet. An extremely potent psyker specialized in Geokinetic functionality.

Exitar the Damned: Chaplain of the Carcharodons 9th Predation Fleet. Extremely old for an Astartes at 800 years old, Exitar has yet to be seen outside of his ancient Tartaros Pattern Terminator Armour, leading to speculation about his true age and whether or not he is still human.

Ogun: Techmarine of the Carcharodons 9th Predation Fleet. Humble and passive when compared to his bloodthirsty compatriots Ogun spends most of his time repairing and maintaining the aircraft and ground vehicles of the Company. He takes great pride in the Carcharius, an ancient and heavily modified Sokar Pattern Stormbird.

Artemis: Apothecary of the Carcharodons 9th Predation Fleet. Artemis relishes in seeing his brothers annihilate the enemy, but it is his job and duty to ensure the Company numbers are maintained, whether by the use of body slaves or recruitment.

Ancient Untaris the Mad: Former Captain of the Carcharodons 9th Predation Fleet. After being critically wounded in battle against a Chaos Warband, he was interred in a Relic Leviathan Dreadnought. Being driven to insanity from his own bloodlust and the Leviathan itself, Untaris began killing everything he saw, his arms were soon after removed and he was put to rest until the day that he may be needed as a drastic last resort.

49th 'Redeemers' Imperial Guard Regiment

Colonel Primiir Axius- Leads the 49th 'Redeemers' Imperial Guard Regiment

Captain Coirich Vitear

Captain Bruscius Matesius

Captain Irlonius Sibario

85th Scions

Tempestor Prime Gallus Tauron Equipement: Plasma pistol, power fist, reinforced void suit, a bunch of grenades and random pieces of kit, depending on what's the mission He's the current senior officer of the 85th, one of the few Scions that wasn't '' reforged '' by them, but an actually original member of the Battalion. He's a rather prudent man who prefers to stick to recon mission, doesn't like losing troops or large scale deployement of men, he's not one for diplomacy, but he can usually be made to work with the rest of Imperial forces thanks to Castella influence. 

Tempestor Secundus Riley Enoch Equipement: Mastercrafted hotshot lasgun with an auxiliary grenade launcher, combat knife, carapace armor, extra kit like Gallus The commander of the so called '' Riley's Fist '', the airbrone assault company of the 85th. Not much for recce, his company is there when the 85th needs something destryoed. He's quick to act and anger, and when he does, violence usually follows, he's more callous than Gallus, and would much rather use his men to take care of problems rather than call for external help. 

Tempestor Secundus Castella Lor Equipement: Flamer, bolt pistol, power sword, carapace armor, lots of kit Gallus second in command and the one who will take over the Battalion if Gallus dies, she's been in the unit for a while now. Gallus usually sends her to take care of diplomacy and dealing with other factions, as her calm demeanor helps in negotiations. She's also the most level headed of the leadership of the 85th, and usually reviews the plan the last to figure glaring flaws.

The Emperor’s Hounds

Faolan Gall - Alpha (captain) of the 4th pack (company) of the Emperor’s Hounds. He is an honourable combatant and can be hard on his men sometimes but is a softie at heart, despises Kroot due to an incident in which left his personal hound dead. Long, black hair with a long beard to match. 

Cearul Adair - Faolan’s protégé so to speak, his second in command and a bit more friendly in his approach to people, and is able to joke around, bald with a thick yet short beard.In Faolan’s Honour Guard 

Cadfael - Techmarine, no other details revealed at this time Ardan Rymus - Faolan’s old friend shares many of his friends ideals but prefers to follow rather than rule. In Faolan’s Honour Guard 

Emyr Glaw - In Faolan’s Honour Guard, un bearded which is unusual in the chapter, short jet black hair. Pryce Nye - Newest member of Faolan’s Honour Guard, sports a thick braided hair going halfway down his back with a braided beard falled down just past his chin. 

Rhodri - Hound Master looks after the dogs in the kennels and a pain in Faolan’s backside 

Baltair Seoc - Chapter Master, former Chief Apothecary

The 1st Calian Dragoons, a Tempestus regiment.

Tempestor Prime Akio Goya

Lord Commissar Masamune Hattori A Calian was a young child when the imperium came and reclaimed Calia.


Xenos

Orks

Da Iron Horde

Hannibal (Big Mek): The leader of the iron Horde. Hannibal was a regular nob regaled to ship building when a shard of the space hulk fell from the sky. His natural Mek instincts have since gone into a frenzy. He is constantly making creations, and is rising though the ork ranks to create his own army using cunning over brute force. 

IronGore (Tankbuster Boss/Demolitions expert): Once a nob for boss Skull Eater, IronGore was captured during a fight with Nerozz da Ugly, and was forced to fight in an arena for years. He was freed by Hannibal, and has pledged his service to him for it. 

Guts da Vagabond (Kommando Boss): After an unsuccessful attempt attempting to take down Nerozz da Ugly, Guts had his eye gouged, and retreated into the forest with some of his boys. He survived through years of being constantly hunted. Hannibal recruited him to help take down Nerozz, and Guts has been a valuable part of his army ever since.

Ace Blackblood (Flash Git Boss): Once part of Nerozz da Ugly's honor guard, Ace was assigned to lead the next boat invasion of the mainland (a certain death). Hannibal recruited him soon after, promising him a much brighter future. His keen aim has proven a valuable asset.

Gort Badstomp (Boss Nob): Head of Nerozz da Ugly's honor guard, Gort attempted to step in during the duel between Hannibal and Nerozz. Hannibal defeated him, and as a result Gort's hands were rendered useless. In a poor situation, Gort was forced to stay with Hannibal. Not one to waste good talent, Hannibal has used Gort to command the assembly line, and on the battlefield, giving him a pair of power claws for battlefield use.

WAAAGH BadToof

Gorgrim BadToof Gorgrim has more Gork than Mork in him, and likes tech that involves big booms and heavy hits. He wields a looted thunder hammer, and a speshul shoota that is a shoota-scorcha, IE it kan shoot da flames an' da dakka. Gorgrim also has a liking for his boss pole, so any notable kills he gets are going to be put on that. 

Glotzinga da Mad Dok Glotzinga is a bit crazy, like any mek, and will gladly attach a living grot to an ork as a prosthetic limb if he thinks it's an improvement. He's also the only ork in the Waagh that can talk a little smack to Gorgrim without getting killed for it, so long as it's just insults under his breath, and not an open challenge. 

Grizby da Grot Grizby is Gorgrim's personal grot, and spends most of his time getting smacked by Gorgrim or hanging out in Gorgrim's trukk, before it got destroyed. A sneaky git, to be sure, and smart enough to not be near Gorgrim when he's mad. Or Glotzinga at all, come to think of it. 

Killrod da Deff Dread, a veeeeeeeery old Deff Dread who sees potential in Gorgrim. He has a grudge against Gorehound da Cook, and also can have a bit of short term memory loss sometimes. Like a dreadnought, but a lot angrier and stompier, personality wise.

WAAAGH WarpRida (see first COF for full back story)

Nox Warprida. Once a two bit mek on the ork wasteland of Wuldgrund, Nox found a warp touched artifact and used it to power his Bike DoomBlitza and came to command his own WAAAGH. Recently Nox came to Crion recruiting orks under the alias of Da Big boss.

Gadnuk (for full story check out Who Wants to be a Kommando and the first COF) Gadnuk is a crack ork Kommando and Nox's second in command.

Da Doof. Ork shaman who helps guide Nox

Tau

Skyhunter Cadre.

Shas'O Tash'var Kor'Kauyon Mont'yr Kais Or'es Doran Gal'leath, or Commander Skyhunter - Leader of the Cadre, wields twin fusion blasters and fusion blades on his XV82 Crisis Suit. Now also sports a salvaged Blood Dragon Dreadnought's power axe. Favours getting in close for combat, and is accompanied by a retinue of Crisis Suits. Bound into the suit, due to crippling injuries suffered in battle. 

Gue'vesa'El Vandred - Sub-Commander of the Cadre's infantry, wields a pulse pistol and power sword in his combat armour. Specialises in supporting and directing the cadre's Fire Warriors in the heat of battle. 

Shas'El Ksi'm'yen Ta'serra Gal Runal Monat M'yen, or Sub-Commander Shadowbrand - The Sub-Commander of Sunstrike's recon formations, and directs and leads scouting operations to support the cadre's assaults. She wields a drone-enhanced pulse carbine with her recon armour, or dons XV-15 Stealth armour and totes a burst cannon into battle. 

Fio'El Mirrorstone - Sub-Commander of the garrison. She handles the cadre's logistics, fortification, and drone defense net placement, but rarely takes to the field. Previously an Earth Caste Commander. 

Kor'El Darkspear - Air Caste Commander, and directs and sanctions flight operations over Sunstrike's territories. Works closely with Skyhunter in planning the cadre's devastating aerial assaults. 

Shas'vre Ghostwalk - Commander of First Reconnaissance Cadre, under Sub-Commander Shadowbrand. Prefers a Ghostkeel Battlesuit, although he has worn XV-25 Stealth armour when necessary. Very elitist and racist to the human auxiliaries. 

Shas'ui Tsa'lan - Leader of First Pathfinder Team, after Shas'ui Vio'fas' death. Dislikes Ghostwalk, feels very outmatched in her role as Shas'ui, and has a close relationship to Harland. 

Gue'vesa'ui Harland - Leader of Second Pathfinder Team. Human soldier, ingenuitive and skilled at combat, but deeply attached to his squadmates and affected greatly by surprise failures.

Kroot Pack Ta'lok

-Master Shaper Ta'lok: Ta'lok is a bit like Leonardo and Master Splinter put together, and as such is wise, kind, and also a fierce fighter. He uses a pulse rifle, and bladed quarterstaff, but also carries other side arms and knives with him depending on what the job involves. 

Grulkin: Tall, even for Kroot, and quick to anger. He's a bit on the feral side, and Ta'lok isn't afraid to use him as a heavy weapon when he needs to. 

Lo'kai: Winged kroot, older brother of Kai'lo. Doctor/medic of the group. Patient, and skilled. Kai'lo: Winged kroot, younger brother of Lo'kai, and an expert in poisons. A fanatic some might say. 

Seri: Female Kroot who comes from a line of Dark Eldar hunters. She's sadistic, cruel, and takes enjoyment out of slowly killing an enemy in excruciating pain. 

Meenos: Lone wolf type character. He also happens to be a blank, and is invaluable to Ta'lok. 

Mal'caor: Kroothound of Ta'lok. Vicious bite, and loyal to Ta'lok above anyone and anything else

Rix'lan Coalition

Shas'O Harax- Commander of all Rix'lan forces

Shas'El Melek- Leads Kavaal Aloh

Shas'El Tach'var- Leads Kavaal Kles'tak, currently with a force on Crion, supervising the Tarellians.


Eldar

Craft World Iybraesil

Farseer Lilliana- Leader of the Iybraesil Warhost on Crion, and a very powerful and accomplished Farseer. Has come to combat the Ork, Necron, and Chaos threats that plague the planet. Generally laid-back, although she hates Chaos with a passion, and strives to destroy it wherever she finds it. 

Warlock Raela- Lilliana's second-in-command on Crion. Cunning personality, and utterly devoted to the survival of Iybraesil

The Masque of the Blameless Culprit 

Feubryn Valorbane: The Great Harlequin, or High Avatar. Feubryn is bombastic and over-the-top about everything, be it joy, grief, or fury, and is every bit the hero of his own story. He has lead his Masque to Crion to investigate a vision that foretold of a great calamity that had it's roots here. He favours pistols, infamous for his ability to quick-draw with extreme accuracy, and carries a brace of pistols including Shuriken Pistols, Neuro Disruptors and Fusion Pistols in combat. 

Imryll Fatewalker: The Shadowseer. Imryll is a shadowseer who does not have much talent at weaving her way through the Skein of Fate - instead, her efforts are focused on illusion and more practical abilities. Very blunt and to-the-point, she intentionally plays the straight woman when dealing with the antics of the other Harlequins. She carries her traditional Miststave and a Neuro Disruptor into battle. 

Cuddio: The Master Mime. Does not talk, only emotes with body language. Cuddio is so talented at expressing himself through body language that even those who normally could not read it can understand what he is 'saying'. Carries a specialised tool that he uses to manipulate Monofilament wire - using it like a garrote, or binding and cutting apart his enemies, and is a master of stealth. 

Dranc: The Death Jester. Dranc often plays the role of 'wise old man' when interacting with the other Harlequins. He enjoys morbid gallows humour and inappropriate battlefield quips just as much as he enjoys philosophy, provoking discussion and making those around him think. Carries the deadly Shrieker Cannon into battle. 

Fallacy: The Solitaire. Not officially a part of the Masque, Fallacy is a mystery wrapped in an enigma. She often treats life like it is one big story, where she is the narrator, connecting the events and making them happen. In the past, she would often interfere to tweak things indirectly, but on Crion, she has shown more urgency, and to the surprise of many in the Masque, has involved herself directly in their quest. She is a kick fighter, with a Harlequin's Caress attached to each foot, and is just as fast and deadly as any of her kind.

The Reaper's Mirth

Sheagoresh- Also know as the Silent Solitaire, has never been know to make even the smallest sound. No other Harlequin, save for other Solitaires, are still alive that remember when Sheagoresh was first born. To an outsider, it appears very grim, and feels that all of creation is doomed, unless the Final Jest is complete. As such, it is secretive, but not unfamiliar with acts of horrific violence if it feels it would further its cause. Physical appearance: Long black cloak 
(traditional Solitaire) with a grey piece of cloth rapped around its waist (flip belt). His right forearm is covered in an orange and creamy yellow checkers to symbolise its relationship with the masque of the Silent Shroud. 

Nysshea- A Death Jester of the Reaper's Mirth, she is cruel, even by the standards of the Reaper's Mirth. Her sick humour is rivalled only by her skill and willingness to enact her gory fantasies upon the face of a world. She plays her role of Death with fluid ease, reaping the lives of any foes she comes across, sometimes even friends. Physical appearance: Long black, with a hint of purple, coat, with an inside off a deeper purple. Legs are checkered red and purple. 

Tyranids

Hive Fleet Cerberus: 

The Great One-The main(Only so far) hive tyrant of the hive. It wields scything talons as its upper limbs and a venom cannon as its lowers. It leads from the front whenever possible and prefers getting stuck in rather than sitting back and firing. This hive tyrant has been remade many many times and has vast amounts of combat experience and intelligence. The hive mind adores it. 

The Leaping Terror-The last surviving lictor of the hive. It goes in alone and does what is needed as stealthily as possible and is very special to the hive.

Necrons

Vazskphores Dyansty

Kauvlosk: Kauvlosk is a special guy. Before the Flayed Virus hit him, he was a pretty decent leader as far as a necron goes. He followed his C’tan Tsara’noga the Outsider until the great wars shattered the C’tan into the many shards, killed them, or banished them. Once one of his necron warriors crossed a flayed one’s path, he accepted his fate as an overlord and as a necron. 

Gilutekh- A necron almost as old as Kauvlosk. Right Hand Man of Kauvlosk. Resistant just the same. Frowns on Diplomacy and wasting time. Dedicated to finding his lord. Rigorous in keeping the Flayed Ones inline as well as he can. He enjoys watching the flayed ones lolligag around the realm. He takes pride in knowing that they listen to him. 

Ibinna- A Necron that is as old as Kauvlosk. The Tactical Advisor of Kauvlosk. A military genius capable of maneuvering flayed ones into ambush spots and setting up glorious slaughter grounds.

Kageros Dynasty

Kageros- Phaeron

Rak'than- Nemesor

Grulahk- Nemesor, was in charge of the forces on Crion, but had to withdrawal.

Numek- Cryptek, loves to create new machine types, currently leading the Necrons on Crion.


Tarellians

Grand Chieftain Rasz'k Xarak- Leads a Grand Wartribe, currently on Crion with Chieftains Yelnava Narseen, Demerdul Caledoras, Tarja Tisareth

Chaos Chaos

Flayed Legion

Father Lazarus: Cultist champion, Herald of the Flayed Lord, leader of the Brotherhood of the Red Banner. Artificial left eye, wears a tattered Imperial Guard colonel's coat. 

Mordecai: Lazarus's shield-bearer and right hand, wears a white mask in honor of the Flayed Lord 

Jael: Former noblewoman of Cogger, joined the Brotherhood in secret and betrayed the Hive to them during the uprising 

Lamech: First of the Drachen enforcers, former homicidal lunatic and veteran of Hive Cogger's penal system.

Plague Cult Garathal and Beast Kin

Prophet Garathal - Sorcerer and leader of the cult, spreads the plague

Brother Anlock - Aspiring champion leads the plague marines

Kremus - speaks for the Mutant Cultists

Baezael - Beastman shaman and speaks for his beastmen kin

Drelos - Minotaur

Kalnar - Minotaur

The Architect - Former stonemason, responsible for the defenses and maintenance of the Cathedral of Blight

Mason Lee - Real name unknown Garathal's infiltrator agent

Minor Characters
Apostle Farthac - bodyguard, One of Garathal's seven
Apostle Galrass - bodyguard, One of Garathal's seven
Apostle Rhaegos - bodyguard, One of Garathal's seven
Apostle Krel - bodyguard, One of Garathal's seven
Apostle Lynx - bodyguard, One of Garathal's seven
Apostle Klyn - bodyguard, One of Garathal's seven
Apostle Steele - bodyguard, One of Garathal's seven
Clover Dukes - Infiltrator Agent
Logan Reid - Infiltrator Agent
Varius Foy - Infiltrator Agent

Gorespawn

Ziinek Goreprince: Leads a small sub-warband of Khornate Renegade Imperials, Cultists, and beastmen. Wields 6 axes. Devoted servant of Khorne, believes that blood can be shed with artillery. Performs rituals where he basically will sacrifice the inhabitants of a city to Khorne and then shells the everloving Emperor out of them.

Svarne Goreknight: Former citizen of Arcadis Bay of Crion, but a humble tradesman fate and circumstances have seen him and his kinsfolk turn to the worship of Khorne and the service of Ziinek.

NPC

Crion Loyalist

Lord Governor Tobias Payn: The portly Planetary Governor of Crion. Age 68 became Lord governor at 35 after the death of his father (A tragic accident when he went hunting for feral orks on Indo Cambria) Tobias’s father was considered to be a man of the people much unlike his current son who rules Crion like Tyrant. In the past twenty years the Governor has raised the Imperial Tariff to triple what it was when his father reigned. Much to the woe of the citizens of Crion. Tobias justifies the high Tariff as being for the greater good of the Imperium, 

Javier Maldonado: The Lord Mayor of Ros Hannoi

Lord Mayor Lawson Barlow: The Lord Mayor of Nortannis

Lord Commander Rodrick Payne: A man of twenty-nine years Rodrick is the Captain of Kamrian Keep he wares a suit of green carapace armor. He is the favored heir among the Crionian loyalists.

Guard Captain Percival Payne: Younger brother to Rodrick Percival is the captain of the Governor's honor guard. Percival has a massive ego, has a built a reputation as a dullest.

Lieutenant Brigadiers Tybalt and Grace Payne: Brother and Sister Tybalt and Grace are both stationed deployed on Krius fighting the Tillers with little success. Tybalt has been ordered to the city of New Pavus to help enforce martial law. Grace and her men are fighting the Tillers in Spiri.

Tillers
Horatio Payne: the alleged bastard child of Tobias Payne that promises to end the tyranny of Tobias Payne. The tillers view Horatio as a folk hero his reputed for leading his men on many of their gorilla style raids. 

Major O’Connell: A PDF turn coat operating in the City of New Pavus

Seeder: A mysterious Tiller informant. Referenced only in an obsecure letter found on the corpse of Sergei Zekva

Sergei Zekva (Deceased): The former Kretchma ganger who was head of the Tillers in Hive Torcan. Killed by Harlaquin Sheagoresh

Edgar Beaconn (Deceased): The head of the Tillers in Kampf’s anchorage. 

Captain David Nassau: Captain Nassau a native to the second aqautic hive city of Crion was once the commander of a PDF submerciable. After a falling out with his superiors Nassau and his men went rogue and became a privater in service to the Tillers. After working with the Tillers for some time Nassau enlisted and became the head of the Tiller's operating in his native underwater home.

Nogrod of Da Spidas (Deceased): The Ork Shaman who through his magic controlled an army of Spida Ridas. However, after his death at the Blood Dragon Ruins many of the spiders turned on their riders only the most skilled Riders were able to keep their mount in line. Nogrod and his gargantuan spider mount were slain by Shas’O Skyhunter

Neroz Da Ugly (Deceased): Neroz was called the Ugly because his face is held together by thick metal staples, he constantly reopens the wounds to keep up his gruesome appearance. He was massive and a yellow vomit shade of green. Neroz was the klan boss of the orks residing on Grim. Was killed by Big Mek Hannibal when he usurped his clan from him.

KoreGog Da Bloody (Deceased): KoreGog thought blood was the single most beautiful adornment any ork could wear, KoreGog was fond of constantly rubbing his face in fresh gore. KoreGog head of the Jorgan Orks met his end when a very special Tyranid Lictor infiltrated his camp and slaughtered him.

Boss SkullEater: A Goff War Boss who has until recently been considered the “Krusha of Crion”. However recently the ork has thrown his lot in behind the mysterious Big Boss. This caught many of the other bosses off guard as SkullEater was arguably the biggest ork power on Crion until recently. 

Kort BloodSpitta “The Mean One”: An ork covered in tattoos and scars, each a memory of a good fight. Kort took up the mantle of Boss when KoreGog died.

Kernal BloodKill “Da Kernal” (Deceased): A former Ork Kommando who has a mind for greater strategy. BloodKill thinks himself a master strategist and feels he must dress the part; he wears a massive blue coat that is a mockery of those worn by Captains in the Imperial navy, and a right snazzy hat. BloodKill rides into combat atop a massive boar DagBuzz. Bloodkill cares more for that boar than he does for any ork under his command. Da Kernal found DagBuzz in the forest, its mother had abandoned it as a runt. BloodKill saw potential in the runt and killed an ork who wanted it for dinner.

Gorehound Da Cook: GoreHound da Fat is what many call him as this ork is a glutton he is known to eat a human as a snack. GoreHound doesn’t care what or who he eats so long as the poor creature died by his hands.

Mek Slabkill: A proper Mek is hard to come by on Crion or its moons. Slabkill a Bad Moon saw his unique talents as a perfect business opportunity, the ork sells his kustom creations for top dollar (Or Tooth) to the various other war bosses around Crion. If you see a nob with a half decent firearm, it is quite likely it came from Slabkill. Slabkill has a small army of ork mercenaries protecting him but for what they lack in numbers they more than make up for in firepower. Slabkill even has access to a looted Thunderhawk gunship that he assembled from bitz and pieces found in pilfered Blood Dragon ruins. 

Dok Kavorkoz “Boot Brain”: There was a legend that Dok Kavorkoz replaced his brain with a boot these rumors began to annoy Kavorkoz so he proved he didn’t by sawing off the top half of his scalp and skull and showing his army of followers that a brain resided in there. Kavorkoz replaced the missing section of skull with large slab of Adamentium taken from a Blood Dragon ruin. However, Kavorkoz has only grown madder since this act as parasites and mold have found their way to his brain and have embedded themselves there. It is rumored that the Pain Boss has cemented an alliance with the mysterious Big Boss.

Kavorkoz’s Monster “MadKan”: After stumbling across an unoccupied suit of Dreadnought armor in a Blood Dragon ruin Dok Kavorkoz had an idea. Kavorkoz found a poor less than willing test subject and with the help of Mek Slabkill the Dok implanted the ork into the suit of dreadnought plate. When the nob awoke from surgery he found his world was nothing but pain and went berserk destroying the dok’s lab. Realizing he could not control his creation Kavorkoz banished his creation to Zike. Once unleashed on Zike the creation went wherever it could find a fight and slaughtered everything it came across. Eventually the many of the local orks began following the monster and began to dub it MadKan. The orks had come to formda cult of MadKan viewing the creation as a herald of Gork. Though the ork cultists still followed the beast from far away. Eventually MadKan learned not to attack his followers and after that learned to talk to them, though MadKan often has sudden flashes of old pain and memories, not all of the pain and memories are his however.

Zogface Gitburn: Gitburn is an arsonist, he dreams of one day seeing all of Crion in a glorious blaze. The ork wears a welding mask that he will only flip up for the occasional booze, food, and smokes. 

Misc 

Bleeders and Kretchmas: The two gangs that once warred over the lower hive of Torcan.





Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/03/15 19:59:35


Post by: Sgt_Smudge


Aun'Chi stood, head bowed in deference. His blue skin was illuminated by a holo-projector, which displayed another Tau, swamped by long, thick robes. Two other Tau could be seen faintly, holding staves in a guard pattern.
"Yes, master?" Aun'Chi intoned. His voice was deep and deliberate, brought on by decades of intense vocal and psychological training. All the better to hone his voice in spreading the message of the Greater Good.

The holographic Ethereal's voice grated out of a speaker. "Aun'Chi, Liberator of Dag'lath, the Ethereal Council's orders remain in place. The Kroot defectors to the Empire must be found terminated. No-one survives without the Greater Good."

"Yes, Honoured Ethereal. Sunstrike Cadre has tracked them to this system. Other forces seem to be present, mostly Gue'la. I request that my commander of reconnaissance, Shas'El Shadowbrand, be recognised by the Empire. However, promotion for her is not advised. She still refuses to don anything larger than a XV-15 stealth suit."

"Understood, comrade. Your adherence to protocol is noted and rewarded."

"As a secondary objective, I may consider a recruitment drive for Gue'vesa. Our own Gue'vesa battalion would be enough to sway many of them to the Greater Good."

"Excellent, Aun'Chi. Your diligence shall be rewarded upon your return to the Sept World. Is there anything else to comment on?"

There was a pause, as Aun'Chi checked over his bony shoulder.
"Yes, comrade. I request stronger Ethereal presence for Sunstrike Cadre, and additional propaganda materials. The military commander of Sunstrike, Shas'O Skyhunter, seems to be adopting more... unorthodox tactics on the battlefield. Less prisoners are being taken, and his command cadre pay even less adherence to my counsel with every passing rotaa. Skyhunter is becoming far more dangerous to the ideals of the Ethereal Caste. I request the Ethereal Council-"

The holo-projector died, plunging the chamber into darkness. Aun'Chi stiffened, and flicked on a lamp. He felt something breeze past him. For the first time in his life, the Ethereal felt fear.
"Who's there? In the name of the Greater Good, reveal yourself."
Aun'Chi heard the sound of something arming next to his ear. He glanced towards the source of the noise. A figure began to fade into reality, with the illusion being stripped away before revealing a suit of black armour. Something was aimed at the Ethereal. The helmet disengaged to reveal a blue skinned face, with hair pulled back into a tight bun, revealing a Y etched into her appealing face.

"Greetings, comrade." the Tau spat at Aun'Chi.

"Likewise, Shadowbrand. Likewise."

"You know, I heard everything. I always have. Since we set out from Dal'yth."

Aun'Chi sighed. "I thought as much. It would pain me to say this, but if you kill me, you'd never leave this chamber in one piece. Your remains would be jettisoned into space, and the Empire would tell of how you died as a martyr for the Greater Good. Your little revolution would only strengthen our cause."

Shadowbrand smiled. "Good. Because I have no intentions of revolting. But the rest of the cadre?" She winked, and turned off the microphone she was holding.
"We're done with the Greater Good, Aun'Chi. And we're done with you. How many of Sunstrike have we lost since we left Da'lyth? And now the rest of the cadre can see you for what you are. A scheming, manipulative sycophant."

"Why you ignorant-"
The doors into the Ethereal's chamber exploded open, leaving a jagged smoking hole in the once-smooth wall. Three hulking figures strode through the smoke, particles of dust and debris cascading from their smooth flanks. The head of the three, a figure with intricate yellow markings on the edges of it's armour, advanced towards Aun'Chi.

"Aun'Chi, you are captured." It was a statement, very bluntly put. The battlesuit spoke with a strong, amplified mechanical voice. It barely restrained the gruff anger of the battlesuit pilot.

"Shas'O Skyhunter. You command this vessel now, as you have always done-"

"Silence your tongue." Skyhunter interrupted the Ethereal's smooth speech with his harsh bark. "Your puppetry and manipulation is at an end. Sunstrike Cadre does not recognise your authority, any more. We reject you. We reject the Ethereal Council. We reject the Greater Good."

Aun'Chi stammered, lost for words for the first time. To abandon the Greater Good was to invite death, to invite destruction. He opened his mouth to say something, but the unwavering barrel of Skyhunter's fusion rifle silenced him.
"What will you do, traitor?"

"We were born to do one thing: to fight for you. Now, we'll fight for ourselves. I don't know what we're doing anymore. But a life of freedom is a life worth living."

Aun'Chi fingered his neck lightly.
"And... what will you do with me?"

Shadowbrand spoke."Whatever we like."

The barrel of Skyhunter's fusion rifle dispersed open, revealing a modified fusion core. The raging nuclear energies were controlled by magnetic fields projected up.
"For our Greater Good, Ethereal."
Commander Skyhunter chuckled, and thrust the blade into the surprised Ethereal's chest. Ethereal Aun'Chi disintegrated on the blade. His robes caught alight and incinerated the flesh that didn't melt over the incandescent blade.
Skyhunter turned to the two Crisis suits at his side, and then to Commander Shadowbrand.

"Assemble the men. Distribute voting slips. Here we start a bright new day."


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/03/15 20:07:37


Post by: Irishpeacockz



Sergeant Haren took up his position in one of the many buildings surrounding the square which were now ruined thanks to the imperial shelling. It was the sixth day of the siege, Haren was surprised they lasted this long and with rumors of space marines coming to assist the imperial guard Haren suspected they wouldn't last much longer. In truth Haren didnt mind the Imperium and it's tithes and prehaps once up a time he had hoped to be drafted into the guard himself but alas his pasted by and he grew older, the fact that men at his age are being recruited back into the PDF shows how fethed they really were. So here Haren was back in the PDF uniform he had worn for so many years and back in command of farm boys who can barely hold a rifle but prehaps if the plan goes accordingly they just might have a chance.

A new volley of basilisk shells rocked the square which shook the Sergeant out of his day dreaming. Haren turned to his ragtag group of patriotic farm boys, many of whom were now shaking with fear. While Haren was old at least he had experience in these situations probably why he was conscripted. “Listen up you maggots ! If even see you thinking of running away i will have no issue in putting a round in your back am i clear ?" A round of "yes sirs" echoed throughout the room. Haren knew from the sounds of their voices that they were terrified. “ follow my orders to the letter and we will get through this you understand ? To the damn letter !” A few grumbles of approval and the odd headnod was his response. Haren never liked lying to his men but morale was so gakky at the moment it was all he could do. Haren himself resigned to the fact that he was going to die. As soon as he heard about the Planetary Governor's rebellion and that conscription had been implemented he knew his fate was sealed.

Another volley of Imperial ordinance lit up the sky when Haren's comlink cackled to life. “All units in Jakoret square beware the walls have been breached repeat the walls have been breached Imperial Forces incoming !" Haren took a deep breath. "Get into position" using a different tone now that brokered no argument, two dozen lasguns pointed out the various windows and doorways of the once rich bank out onto the deserted square. "Right boys, the plan is to bait these fethers into this little killzone that we have set up. That means hold your damn fire until i give the command. Remember basic training. WE CAN DO THIS." This was the worst part for Haren. The wait. The so called calm before the storm. Many so farm boys have shot their lasguns at moments just like this ruining the best laid plans. Often in his anger Haren has killed such individuals. He hoped that this time he can save his attention towards the enemy.

Then he saw them approaching with suspicion and so they should be. Haren whispered into his comlink “ guardsmen spotted hold your fire and stay down ! Let them discover our gift ". For a city to hold out for days and as soon as it is breached there isnt a sliver of resistance does seem strange. Haren hoped they would just proceed. Come on he thought, just a little closer. As the guardsmen approached the center of the square a land mine erupted blowing guardsmen away like confetti. That was the signal. "Everyone fire at will" Haren commanded picking off a few guardsmen of his own. Four chimeras emerged to cut off any escape from the square. As Haren saw them get gunned down in the open square he actually found himself laughing. He hadn't expected this to have gone so well. Dozens of traps like this were being sprung across the city. As the last of the guardsmen were being finished off Haren and his PDF emerged from their crumbling buildings to survey the carnage they had wrought. That was there first and last mistake.

As Haren was basking in his victory he saw a purple blur in his peripheral vision which cut throught his men in a whirlwind of blood and gore. He turned to see purple amored giants emerging from the sky and cutting through his men like a hot knife through butter. Haren knew they battle was lost. Guardsmen they might have tackled but the fabled Space Marines ? He spun on his heel and bolted for one of the nearby chimeras hoping to whatever bloody god that the driver was still alive. Haren lost his footing over a corpse and stumbled. A new idea popped in his head. Haren decided to lie there and play dead. So Haren laid there with his face in someone else's entrails and listening to his comrades dying screams when a purple giant grabbed him by his neck. He wore highly decorated armor with long back hair with a beard to match and a nasty scar across his left cheek. He held a long, decorated sword in his right hand and had a look of disguston his face. At that point Haren let himself go and soiled himself. " A pity I have to sully my blade with the likes of you as the giant impaled Haren upon his sword. Haren's eyes bulged as he was discarded like the rest of his men to the dirt.

--------–-------------------------------------------------------
Faolan Gall proceeded to the Governor's palace without delay to end his folly. With His Honour Guard behind him he marched acrossed the only bridge that granted access to the palace. Resistance was both futile and minimal. Their morale was like their city crumbling and even more shattered by the fact that his marines broke throught their petty "ambush". Many PDF surrendered hoping that they may be taken back into the imperium, they were cowards and executed as such without hesitation. As Faolan approached the Palace itself a group of Imperial guardsmen arrived via armoured transport to assist. One of their number stepped forward and bowed to Faolan "my lord, our orders are to assist you in securing the Palace" "then that is your mission soldier secure the palce and slay the traitors leave no survivors. We will deal with the delusional madman who calls himself the Planetary Govenor." The guardsmen bowed again and took his leave to issue the command but didn't leave without saying "yes sir". The palace was practically deserted. Dimly lit and silent it felt like a tomb. It will become one in a few short moment thought Faolan as he navigated his way towards the throne room. As Faolan entered he had hoped the governor had some sort of bodyguard that would pose at least some challenge for him but alas all that awaited him was a fat old man with ruined hopes and dreams. Faolan turned to his second in command Sergeant Cearul Adair. "Sergeant Adair signal the thunderhawks for pick up, this will over quickly". Disappointed Faolan approached the treasonous whorson who now was trying to bargain for life which only angered Faolan and with one swift strike Planetary Governor Randolf Herick was no more. Faolan went back to the awaiting thunderhawk where his fellow battle brother's awaited his arrival

Faolan took his place as the thunderhawk took the the sky, Central Command this is Alpha Marine Faolan Gall reporting that Randolf Herick is dead i leave the mop up of the city and the planet to you and your guardsmen, may the emperor watch over you" " you have my thanks space marine" came the reply. Cearul spoke up. " Sir I believe the astropath aboard our Battle Barge had received a message from Aspen" " Aspen ? Message ahead i want that astropath in the hanger bay when I land" " Yes Sir". The thunderhawk raced back towards the Battle Barge to figure out what news had come form their sacred the homeworld of Aspen.

The thunderhawk swooped in the landing bay of the "Aspen's Claw" where the Astropath was waiting. Faolan turned to his trusted second in command as the thunder landed " Sergeant Adair I want us out of this system and on our way to Aspen as soon as possible". Faolan Gall disembarked from the craft hurriedly as did Cearul, with Faolan heading towards his own quarters while Cearul headed towards the bridge. Without breaking stride Faolan vaguely looked in the Pysker's direction and commanded the Astropath to follow, Faolan feared the worst, was holy Aspen under siege ? Faolan began the conversation " Tell me pysker when did you receive this message ? " Faolan rounded a corner almost running into some chapter serfs while the Astropath struggled to keep up. " a mere hour ago my lord" squeaked the Pysker. "And what form did this message take ?" " a vision my lord" "Very well, hold your tongue until we are in the confines of my office". They passed many hanging hound furs and the odd stuffed Hound who distinguished themselves in battle. Hounds are regarded highly in the chapter with each Alpha Marine having his own upon promotion and rarely leaving his side. Picked from the kennels while young, trust and love developed between many of the Alpha's and their hounds. The hound skins and the stuffed hounds always bring back sorrowful memories for Faolan without fail. He still remembers the day he lost his own hound. In a battle against the Tau they were forced to retreat, the tau advanced, Kroot particularly. The landing zone was hot and the marines were lucky to have escaped. In their haste however they lost track of Jakarn, Faolan's personal hound. He hoped Jakarn had escaped but the likelihood was he perished along with many of his battle brothers and it is well known that Kroot consume their fallen enemies, a bitter hatred of Tau,Kroot particularly burns in Faolan's heart to this day. Two marines saluted their Alpha as he entered his office with the pysker trailing behind. Faolan motioned for the Astropath to sit down while Faolan remained standing. The room was cold and dimly lit. Faolan paced back and fourth as he quizzed the pysker. "Now pysker, tell me exactly what you saw " "well my lord I saw a marine clad in highly ornate purple armor, covered in blood. I believe this to be our most beloved Chapter Master, his Narthecium giving him away. He almost completely consumed by darkness except for a single light behind him. All he simply said "was return to me" Faolan turned his head " And you are sure this was Baltair Seoc ? " " That is my best assumption my lord" "very well, you may leave". As the doors of his chambers closed behind the Astropath he slumped in his chair and sighed. Patience was not something he possessed and he hated all this talk of visions, still if this was Baltair Seoc why was he being summoned ? And why was he covered in blood ? Instead of answering some questions as Faolan hoped the Astropath would it seems to have just caused more. Faolan's head hurt and preparations were being made to get back to Aspen, it was time for a drink ..........

The thunderhawk zoomed across the darkened sky. Ever since Faolan entered the system he looked for signs of battle but he could find none, all seemed normal. So why was he summoned ? The question will soon be anwsered. Usually upon returning home to mighty Aspen Faolan would normally feel comfortable and safe, he would relax. Not this time, this time he was anxious. He got little rest on his return trip and asked the Astropath every day for new messages or visions but he received none. Faolan's vox cackled to life, it was the pilot " Ard Tean mountain range in sight ETA 5 minutes". Faolan readied himself, he felt like he was going into battle not his fortress monastery.

The Fortress Monastery Morga Dun was nestled atop a mountain range in a V shape with the monastery being at the tip. There is an opening behind the V shape for thunderhawks and the like to land. The chapter often made use of the many caverns in the surrounding mountains and if needed expanded the monastery into said caverns. Aside for the landing pads behind the V the only other entrance was a path at the base of the mountain, which is patrolled by the Emperor's Hounds auxiliary forces the Fianna. Potential recruits sometimes approach this gate seeking to join the purple giants.

Faolan's thunderhawk landed, he brought along only the necessary people who needed to return to Morga Dun for supplies and fresh marines to replace whatever losses the 4th pack had endured. Faolan took a deep breath of fresh air as he walked towards the main elevator, saluting his brothers as he went. Rain pinged off his armor as lightening light up the sky for a split second. Another storm thought Faolan as he embraced the warmth of Morga Dun. Faolan looked at the controls to the elevator. He was looking for the Chapter Master and as such he should go to the great hall. But Faolan knew better and pushed the button labelled Apothecarion. The elevator rumbled to life as it descended the mountain. The elevator stopped and the twin metal doors creaked open to a hive of Apothecaries and their servitor assistants, not one of them noticing his arrival. "Too busy with whatever work Baltair Seoc has them doing" mumbled Faolan as he walked through the main room and turned right, down a corridor and turned right again this time down a flight of stairs. Faolan harboured little love for this part of the Monastery, he hoped Baltair wasn't in the middle of one of his experiments when he arrived. At the end of the stairs stood yet another corridor with one door at the end. The whole corridor was dimly lit and the unmistakable sound of a drill could be heard from the opposite end of the corridor. Faolan cursed, he hated being witness to such disgusting "research" but alas he mustn't have been summoned for nothing.

Faolan walked to the end of the corridor where the drilling was getting louder. He pushed the half open door with one hand to reveal his glorious Chapter Master Baltair Seoc hunched over a disembowelled Aspenian Hound. The room was dimly lit like the corridor with a large light shining on the operating table, the corners of the room were submerged in darkness. The room was also unnaturally cold, probably to keep the organs fresh. As Faolan approached the operating table he spotted what seemed to be a heart ripped out of the defiled beast. He stood a few paces away for the table and got to one knee " My lord you summoned me and I have arrived with all due haste." He waited for a response but none came. Only the sound of the a saw cutting the rib cage. He was about to repeat himself when the saw stopped. "Ah yes Faolan, good to see you come over opposite me here" reluctantly Faolan rose and proceeded to the opposite side of the table. Upon inspection Faolan realised that this was the vision the Astropath saw. Baltair Seoc was cover in the beast's blood. His Prime Helix was still on his right shoulder reminding him of days gone by.Faolan looked at the beast and was suprised to have recognised her as Kara, mother to Jakarn. " So Faolan I trust another world was brought back into the Imperium ?" " Yes my lord, I slew the cowardly Governor myself." " Good good, you will need such skill and determination for your next mission." Curiosity took over Faolan, "What mission ?" " A very important mission indeed, this one comes straight from the top and I have a l personal request to go along with it." Here it is thought Faolan, the whole reason he is here the answer to his question all this time was this request. "Anything for you brother" answered Faolan eager to find out what this request was. Baltair rose from his work put a bloody hand on Faolan's right shoulder and made a request that would require the utmost secrecy.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/03/15 20:15:18


Post by: Tactical_Spam


"Titans!?" the Governor spat. His raspy voice was as sharp as an assassins blade and laced with enough hatred to make a Black Templar weep in joy. "You said they were Astartes, Lord General!"

The Lord-General wiped his brow nervously with a handkerchief and read off of his dataslate. His voice sounded dry even through the vox unit he had in place of a mouth. "Reports are coming in that the Adeptus Mechanicum have sent their Skitarii and a Titan Legio with the Astartes. Our efforts will be fut-"

"Futile? FUTILE?" the Governor hissed, drawing his side arm and putting a las bolt through the Lord General's skull. The Lord General slumped back in his chair. The Governor looked around the room at his advisors, whom were flabbergasted at what they just saw. The Governor wildly aimed his pistol around the room, "Anyone else have a stupid observation?!"

The room fell dead silent and the advisors ran back to their stations, eager to not end with a hole in their head. The Governor grabbed his glass of wine and drank deeply. His reign would end on this planet. He got out of his chair and shoved past his advisors. He needed help. Help that would not come from any man. The Governor exited the room with an agitated slam of a door and made his way to the librarium wing of his Palace. The halls were empty apart from the thick layers of dust and debris covering the floor. The Astartes were at their door. He needed more time. The Governor threw the door to the librarium open and made his way to the most forbidden section. He only needed to find his salvation... or his doom would find him. He began scanning through the flesh bound tomes. He read things no man should ever read and saw images that no eye should see. He found a skull inscribed in blood with a name no mortal should ever bear.

"Krykk'ryk'yyk..." the Governor whispered. He looked around and behind him.

What did that mean? Is it a name? A spell? He pondered. He rubbed his forehead. He closed the book and a sudden pain engulfed him. He felt his throat swell up and he vomited instantly. His bile was darker than any blood, no, it was blood. His blood. It felt like fire. It was fire... He was on fire. He cried out in pure agony and fell back into a bookshelf. He clawed at his grey hairs until they clawed out and his scalp bled. His skin blistered and welted under the incorporeal fire. From his back grew two great, bloody wings. His hands become long claws harder than adamantium. His feet morphed into hooves. He looked into a shard of glass that originated from a stained glass window in front of him. Through his agony, he remembered that that window had been whole a moment earlier. He looked up further and saw a golden being wrapped in light, perched where the window should have been. The being had two great wings of gold and legs like a mighty eagle. The beings arms ended talons that gleamed hot-white. The face of the being was angelic, its skin was bronze and its hair was as dark as the void. He realized, while looking at the being's face, that it was talking to him.

"You have forsaken the Imperium, Heretic. You have given yourself over to the Dark God, Khorne. Your punishment is death. I am the Executioner," the being spoke. Its voice, no... her voice, was in perfect harmony. It was more beautiful than any choir.

"No... I am the Executioner... I shall take your skull..." something said. It took the Governor a moment to notice that he had said it or something inside him had said it. His agony dulled when the voice spoke, and when it stopped, his agony was greater than before. He begged the voice to continue. It did with pleasure.

* * *

The Angel could not comprehend the words that were proceeding from the hellspawn's mouth, but she knew it needed to end. Around her, the world was distorting and twisting into a macabre parody of itself. The rain that poured down on her turned to blood, the stones turned to skulls and the thunder was a voice that rang like a curse in her ears. The hellspawn leapt at her, claws outstretched. She leapt back into the blood rain and onto the roof of the Palace. The hellspawn was eager to follow and climbed its way up the wall, its wings not yet complete. Its eyes locked onto her and she could feel the malice, feel the anger in them. The hellspawn circled her like a wolf circles its prey. It bore its teeth, sharper than needles. It scraped its claws against the stone roof and drew sparks. The Angel sang to her Emperor, and shut out the Chaos. Not a drop of blood rain fell on her. She saw none of the skulls. She did not hear the thunder's curses. The hellspawn heard the song and grew even more angered. It would skin her and devour her flesh, but she was singing, and was calm. The hellspawn leapt at her, but when it would have connected its claws with the beauty of her face, it grasped nothing. It hit the stone hard and roared in anger. It barely noticed one of its wings were gone.

The loss of the wing only drove the hellspawn on and it jumped again at the Angel. This time, its leg was gone. It scrambled to get up like a cornered animal as the Angel advanced towards it. It looked up in time for the Angel to grab its face with her taloned foot. The Angel flapped once with its golden wings and the hellspawn felt itself leave the ground. If it could have turned its head, it would have seen that the Ange had carried it off the roof and it was descending rapidly back into the librarium. The Angel smashed the hellspawn into the tiled floor of the librarium head first. She was surprised when its head wasn't pulped. It barely felt the pain. It grabbed her leg with one claw, but the Angel tore the arm from its socket. Growing ever so tired of the charade, the Angel let go of the hellspawn's head and smashed her foot through the hellspawn's ribcage. The creature wheezed hard and spat some curse at her. She continued her song and grabbed the hellspawn's head with her clawed hand. It only took a moment for the creature to notice its head was separated from its body.

"I am the Angel, bane of the Traitor's," the Angel sang, half-mocking, half-telling the severed skull. With those words, all distortions faded and everything returned to as it had been. The Angel now held the skull of the Governor.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/03/15 20:21:54


Post by: Tainted


A combined stench of chemicals and organic fluids struck Praed as he entered the apothecary’s lab. The room was dimly lit, worsened by the putrid vapour that drifted throughout. The chaos lord felt the skin on his face prickle and itch in the sickly miasma. “Vermak!” he called. The former apothecary of the Astral Claws didn’t respond. Praed ventured further into the dusky chamber. The tables in the room were lined with bottles, beakers and vials containing a nauseating variety of substances, and tools that would be more at home in a torture chamber than a surgery. His attention was drawn by the sound of heavy breathing to a cage in the corner.

The occupant of the cage was a huge ape-like creature, hunched in posture and roughly three metres in height. Its hide was gnarled like the bark of a tree, and a white, treacly substance resembling molten wax seeped through pockmarks across its skin. The beast’s sinuous arms ended in disproportionately large hands that were too heavy for the wretch to lift above knee height. Most disturbing of all were its eyes, which had partially liquefied to a translucent gel. The mutant’s scent stood out even in the fug of chemicals, although it was closer to the smell of damp moss than the odour of an animal. Despite the obvious agony that the abomination was in the only sound to escape its distended jaw was the steady rasp of its breath.

“Admiring my handiwork, I see.” Praed spun around to see Vermak emerge from the gloom like a parasite pushing its way through the skin of its host. The chirurgeon was smaller in stature than his lord, but his size was intimidating to most men nonetheless, and the childlike glee in the silvery pools of his eyes was a disconcerting contrast to his pale, withered features. “Do you know what this creature was before I sculpted it to the magnificent form you see now?”

“I couldn’t care less about your side-projects, Kraft.”

“It was an ogryn,” the apothecary said with twisted pride. “Abhumans are always such a joy to work with.”

“I said I don’t care,” the chaos lord spat, his patience growing thin. “I haven’t come to indulge your whimsy. We’re approaching the Imperial planet Crion.”

“I wish you a pleasant hunt, my lord,” Vermak replied indifferently.

“I don’t think you understand, Kraft. Crion was once the home world of the Adeptus Astartes chapter known as the Blood Dragons.” The apothecary’s face lifted at this news.

“Then I take you intend to use this planet to further our goal?”

“Indeed. If we are able to capture Astartes facilities your skills will be put to good use.”

“And you came down here yourself to request my services? I’m flattered, my boy, I really am…”

Praed lashed out suddenly, striking his subordinate with the back of a power armoured hand and knocking him off his feet. “Don’t think for a moment that you are irreplaceable. There are hundreds with skills such as yours, and very few who would tolerate a maggot like you such as I do. Make no mistake, Kraft, it is you who are nothing without me, not the other way around.”

Vermak scowled vehemently at the chaos lord as he left the lab. “Conceited upstart,” he muttered, turning his head to face the thing in the cage, its gelatinous eyes staring blankly at the apothecary on the floor. “And you needn’t look at me like that.”


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/03/15 20:22:53


Post by: chazz huggins


In a stone church lit under a cloudy sky Inquisitor Garrett Randall stood over the twisted corpse of the warp touched cult leader. Once the arch deacon of this small parish on this back water feudal world the man had become near unrecognizable mutated with horns, razor teeth, and jet black eyes. The inquisitor’s plasma pistol steamed from having been recently fired. Brother Captain Athenar violently removed his nemesis force sword from the chest cavity of one of the deacon’s chaotic acolytes causing blood to splatter on a nearby wall. The Grey Knight Captain spoke “I no longer sense the taint of warp scum.” Randall smiled “And so life returns to normal for these humble folk. Now they can all go back to pig farming or whatever it is Feudalers do.” Commissar Alenko snickered as he wiped blood splatter away from his brow with his sleeve, but The Astartes did not seem so amused. Athenar spoke coldly “Our work here is done let us move on.” Randall returned to seriousness as he spoke “Right there’s nothing left for us here.”

The trio of Commissar, Inquisitor, and Grey Knight exited the church and stood beneath grim grey skies. Awaiting the party was a black thunderhawk gunship with the seal of the inquisition on its side. Standing near the gunship was a squad of the inquisitor’s elite storm trooper’s. They wore black steel carapace armor with the icon of the Order Malleus. One of the soldier’s equipped with a vox caster spoke out “Inquisitor we’ve received an emergency communiqué from The Black Oath.” Randall questioned “If it were so urgent why wouldn’t the telepath relay it to me psychically?” The storm trooper spoke “I’m not sure my sir, I’ve the message ready for playback when your ready.” Randal spoke “Let’s hear it.” The vox caster pressed a button on his wrist mounted interface and the static plagued audio began.

(static) This is Lord Governor (static) Payne of Crion. We are under attack, (static) orks unifying. (static) separatist scum. (static) Heretics. We are desperate our PDF is incapable of defending against all these threats. Any Imperial forces in the area we beg of you to come to our aid. Coordinates follow.

Commissar Alenko had heard dozens of calls like this during the past five years of serving under the inquisitor and plenty of times they would ignore such calls but this one seemed different as if it caught the Inquisitor off guard. Randal spoke looking to Athenar “You heard Crion right.” Athenar spoke “Aye I did, we have to go.” Randall spoke “Agreed” Alenko spoke “My Lord why is Crion of such value.” Randall spoke with concern “Crion is what is holding this section of space together. You see Crion isn’t some Agri-World, it is the finest agri-world the Imperium has ever encountered. It feeds countless humans both the legions of the imperial guard and common citizens alike. If we lose it, we could very well lose this subsector to starvation.” The Commissar spoke “My mentor once said: starvation is a crueler blade by far than that any xeno can fashion.” Randall looked over to his thunderhawk and spoke “We may discuss details on our way back to the Black Oath.” Athenar nodded “Aye there is not a moment to spare.”

Randal took his seat in the troop hold of the thunderhawk. The inquisitor sunk back into his seat and pondered what awaited him on this agri-world as Randal understood Crion had always been relatively peaceful. What plagued them was rather irrelevant though as the high lords of terra had declared this world to be a crucial asset to the imperium and as such had the full protection of terra. Hopefully all that would need doing is the slaying of a few ork leaders and the execution of some heretics but Randal had a suspicion that matters would not be so simple.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/03/15 20:30:47


Post by: 2BlackJack1


Ta'lok sipped on his mug of amasec as he watched the latest newcomer come to the trading hab. No one took any heed of the arrival, a human, who looked surprisingly calm with the surroundings of various xenos species for an Imperial. "You. We don't serve your kind, Imperial." The Demiurg barkeep grumbled, while glaring right at the trooper. Ta'lok allowed himself a smile; this far from the Imperium's crusades, they could make fun of its citizens as much as they wanted to. A few warp jumps in the wrong direction and they'd be in the prime location to be executed as some godless monster, however.

The man simply glared back at the Demiurg, and continued on with his path. One rather large alien, a Chuffian, stepped in front of the man, and growled at him. "Watch ore step, oomahn. It's danjuris out 'ere."

"I'll have to be careful then." The man snapped back, obviously not liking these interruptions. By now almost every conversation stopped, and everyone turned to look at the Imperial and his outlandish outfit.

"Ooh might end up dead." The Chuffian growled again, and gave the Imperial a shove. The man, obviously attempting to control himself, tried to shoulder past the hulking alien. The Chuffian simply laughed, and shoved the man harder, causing him to reel back into a table. The Chuffian drew a power maul, and took a step towards the man, aiming to finish him off.

Before either one of them could react, Ta'lok was already out of his seat and swinging his blade downwards. The Chuffian was sent shrieking backwards as his arm fell onto the ground, still grasping the maul in its bloody grip. Ta'lok glared at the Chuffian until it disappeared from sight, vainly trying to stop the bleeding. The Shaper directed his gaze down to the man, and offered him a hand after returning his blade to its holster, and the soldier hesitantly took it.

The crowds had now given Ta'lok space after seeing him join the fight, which Ta'lok appreciated and enjoyed immensely, not that he showed any signs it. "The name's Ta'lok. Are you alright?" Ta'lok asked the man after guiding him towards an empty seat next to his own.

"Garth Selka. Of house Fairfax." The man said with a nod. Ta'lok assumed that was all he would get for way of thanks from the man, if he was as gruff as he seemed to be.

"What can I do for you today, gue'la?" Tolak asked, while reaching for his amasec yet again.

"The Lord-Captain is looking for soldiers. You pan- er, you Kroot tend to be good at fighting, and do that sort of work for payments. We just got a ship load of cogboys who need some extra arms to fight and cover their shiny metal arses. Would you be interested in that?"

Ta'lok replied slowly, "such an endeavour must be dangerous. And expensive." The Shaper let Selka take that however he wanted. The man sighed, already seeing where this was going.

"How much are you expecting?" He said through gritted teeth.

I like him, Ta'lok thought. "21,000 credits." The Shaper said. Ta'lok played this game many times; start the demand high, and let the employer try to chip it down.

"10,000. That should be more than enough for someone like you to cope with." Selka replied, trying to lightly flatter the Kroot to let his guard down.

"19,500. You could hardly expect me to feed my kindred with 10,000, could you? Ta'lok said, completely unfazed by the vague flattery.
And so the bargaining began, until one final point was reached. "How about this: 2,000 upon entry of the Sovereign, one of our ships, and 15,000 upon completion of the assignment." Selka said, wishing the Kroot would just agree to a price.

"17,000 credits? I accept your offer, commisar. I'll gather my kin, expect us by tomorrow. We should not need much preparation time. Ta'lok finished the rest of his amasec, and shook hand before the commisar departed, and spat on the discarded arm on his way out.

Ta'lok was contemplating whether or not he should get another drink when a heavily robed creature filled the recently vacated seat. "Going somewhere, Ta'lok?" He growled, and the Kroot recognized the man as the human pirate Graydir, a fierce bounty hunter who collected lives as much as credits wherever he went. He recently had been impressed by some Inquisitor who was trying to gain himself a reputation in the area by killing off notable Xenos.

"Yes, actually. I was about to leave to go join your Inquisitor friend myself. He probably needs as much help as he can get." Ta'lok lied shamelessly, while slowly drawing a pistol from underneath the table.

"It's too late for that. You already made the Inquisitor angry far too many times, and that prison breakout was the last straw. He offered a whole shipment of froststeel to whoever got to you first. I'm just lucky I did." Graydir spat back, while slowly drawing his own gun.

"Even I run out of luck eventually. Besides, tell the Inquisitor-" Ta'lok began.

"The Inquisitor is done with you! At best, you'll persuade him to take your mutt Mal'caor instead." Graydir said, obviously enjoying the power he had by being an Inquisitor's pet.

"Over my dead body!" Ta'lok yelled, a moment away from shooting the man."

Graydir set his gun onto the table, his eyes staring directly at Ta'lok's. "I wouldn't have it any other way." He fired his gun, and narrowly missed the Shaper as he ducked down, and fired his own shot back, coating the wall with the man's gore in the process. Graydir slumped over, and Ta'lok stood up while holstering his pistol.

"Guess I won't have that drink after all" the Shaper grumbled, and made his way to the exit, mirroring Selka's own departure.



Mal'caor lifted his head from its spot on the metal floor and sniffed the air, ignored the usual scents of the room, and picked up on one that only meant one thing. Ta'lok was coming home. The kroothound stood up in an instant and stalked towards the door.

Ta'lok pushed the door open and immediately stepped to the side, letting the hound sail past as it leaped forwards. Ta'lok allowed himself a quiet chuckle and patted the hound's head. "Still too quick for you, eh?" The Shaper nudged the hound back into the Kroot living quarters, a small shuttle they had requisitioned from a past job, and landed at the station for any signs of work.

Ta'lok's eyes adjusted to the dim lighting of the ship as he swung the door shut, cutting off the noise of shippers and crewmen at work in shipyard behind him. "Shaper. You have returned." Ta'lok recognized the voice as Lo'kai, a medic of sorts for the pack.

"Yes, it seems I have, but not for long. I met someone who needs us. A straightforward task of protection, and possibly more to come afterwards. I will explain more at a later time. For now, I must tell the rest of the pack." Ta'lok said. Lo'kai nodded, and made to respond but a new voice interrupted.

"It will be nice to smell fresh air for a change. We are heading somewhere lively, aren't we?" The voice said, and a moment later the violet skinned Kroot revealed herself from where she stood in the shadows.

"Seri," Ta'lok nodded in greeting, "fresh air will do you all some good. Too long have we kept cooped up in this craft. And as for where we head to, I am not sure. The planet could be the home of the forests and farms of an agri-world, or have ash wastes and volcanoes of a death world. Only time will tell. Oh, and Seri? Please, do not attempt to push the humans when we meet them. I have a suspicion that not everyone will accept us with open arms, and I don't want any unnecessary conflict with them."

Seri nodded and proceeded to start sharpening a knife, already bored with the conversation. Ta'lok moved passed Seri, heading towards the rest of the kin he still needed to tell.

Meenos heard a satisfying thunk as his knife found its target. He was reaching for the next blade when he heard the rap of a cane against the metal door behind him. "Ta'lok? Back so soon?" His words were punctuated with his second knife landing next to the first.

The door swung open behind Meenos, groaning in protest as Ta'lok stepped through, as always he was accompanied by Mal'caor. "Gather your things, Meenos. We are needed. Everything will be explained in time, but for now we must gather the war parties, and join our employers before they depart. They expect us to be ready soon."

Meenos' spirits lifted; it had felt like an eternity since they had last been called upon. "I will be ready, Shaper." Meenos said, already walking towards his target to reclaim his knives.

Ta'lok nodded, and turned to leave Meenos to gathering his belongings. Asides from his own pack, he still needed to gather the warband of countless other Kroot. The Shaper had little time to spend with idle conversation, not when they had a war to go to.

Kai'lo was pouring his vial of gothago, a highly poisonous concoction of his, onto a knife, gently coating the blade in the lethal drink. "Fever, hallucination, paralysis, and best of all, immune system failure." He muttered while carefully setting the weapon in its rack to dry. The Kroot already moved on to the next weapon, but began coating it with a different substance. He had used the last of his gothago on the previous knife. "Artisep: chills, muscle spasms, possible loss of consciousness. Not lethal on its own, but enough to make a gue'la think twice about fighting you." Kai'lo whispered, and put the blade next to the other one in the rack.

The Kroot reached over and grabbed several other vials, cures for the deadly liquids he used, handmade by his brother Lo'kai. Kai'lo always kept cures for his poisons close at hand, in case the wrong person felt their sting. Kai'lo was so devoted to his work that he barely noticed Ta'lok step into his personal quarters. The Shaper brought the same message he had told Seri, Meenos, and Lo'kai, and Kai'lo grumbled to himself as he stowed away his vast array of ingredients and blades. He would have to wait before he could add his poisons to the rest of the weapons. The Kroot grabbed his rifle and slung it over his shoulder once he finished packing up his supplies, and followed after Ta'lok to where the pack was meeting. "Have you told the rest of the pack that we are leaving?" Kai'lo asked.

"There is one more of our pack that I must tell." Ta'lok replied.

The pirate fell to the ground as the fist connected with his jaw. Grulkin stepped over the man, and hammered three blows into a second raider's ribs. The man howled as he felt the bones shatter, and didn't see the follow up swing. Grulkin gave a deep laugh as the man sank to his knees, vainly grasping at his throat, trying to gulp down air through his crushed windpipe. The monstrous Kroot kicked the man over, and turned to face the third assailant. Before the scavver could turn and run, Grulkin had wrapped one arm around his neck and lifted the man into the air. The raider kicked out with his legs, but Grulkin simply laughed again and squeezed harder.

"Grulkin! Drop the man!" A voice rang out, and Grulkin turned around, already disappointed that his game was ruined. "Shaper," Grulkin grunted, "you missed the fun."

Ta'lok scowled at Grulkin. "Put him down. He's learned his lesson, isn't that right, boy?" Ta'lok asked the man in Grulkin's arms. Grulkin grudgingly loosened his grip enough for the man to vigorously nod his head.

"P-please, lord. I won't bother you again, on my life. Never hear from me again!" The man begged, trying to flatter Ta'lok as fast as his cowardly tongue allowed. Grulkin sighed and dropped the man, who knelt on the ground, gulping down as much air as he could.

"Thank you, Grulkin." Ta'lok said tiredly. "Now you, run off before I change my mind and send the hound." The raider had enough sense to be well out of sight within the next few seconds.

"How did you find me, Shaper?" Grulkin asked, looking down at one of the twitching raiders on the ground. The Kroot nudged the body with his foot before looking back up at Ta'lok.

Ta'lok shook his head before answering. "It wasn't hard to follow after the eight foot tall Kroot. Not when he doesn't bother to cover his trail." Grulkin just shrugged, and added "I didn't think you would be back from your trip to the bar yet. Did you find anything useful?"

Ta'lok nodded, "It's exactly why I am back so soon. The pack has been called to defense, and they expect our arrival soon. Not that my having to hunt you down helped us meet that deadline. Now, I have to go gather the rest of our kin, and I expect to see you at our shuttle. Please, don't disappoint me." Despite the formality of his last remark, Ta'lok wasn't making a request. Grulkin nodded and padded off towards the shuttle.

Ta'lok led his pack towards the Sovereign, already expecting most of his kin to have arrived before him. Word had traveled fast, and kroothounds and kroothawks traveled even faster to deliver the news throughout the orbital station. Ta'lok saw several other packs also making their journey to the ship. Tal'ok recognized other Shapers as well, kindred who owed their allegiance to Ta'lok, and followed his orders before anyone else's.

Ta'lok beamed with pride upon seeing all of his kindred amassed together; over a hundred kroot, dozens of kroothawks and hounds, and several krootox to boot.

"Pech, it truly is beautiful, isn't it?" Ta'lok whispered.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/03/15 20:40:24


Post by: EvergreenArcher


Consume
The hive fought. The world had crumbled beneath the mass of chitin the swarm had sent forth. The primitive biomass could not survive. They were exterminated and consumed. The hive grew and prospered. Hormagaunts and lictors. Hive tyrants and genestealers. All were made to further the strength of the brood. Then all was lost. The biomass called “humans” had rigged a trap upon their death. The planet was destroyed and the swarm cried out in pain. All of the hive’s work had been lost in the fiery reaction.
Respond
Another form of primitive biomass approached. They screamed their tongues at the swarm as they relentlessly assaulted. Their weapons hacked and slashed the hive apart. The brood was weakened. Not many bio-forms of the hive had stayed upon the ship. They broke through the swarm’s lines until they approached the room of the hive ship that contained the precious norn-queen. She was the reason the swarm could be made and remade over and over. She was essential for survival. There were no hormaguants left. There were no warriors. There was nothing but the queen and the brutes that called themselves orks. For a moment they stared each other down. The orks took a tentative few steps forward, and then one of the group shouted something to the rest. He was the biggest, and the others responded. They recognized that the norn-queen could not fight back. They fled. The sounds of detonations were heard. She was teleported onto the brute’s hulk in a secluded portion. The hive will endure such suffering. The hive will grow here. The hive will escape. All that was needed was time.
Defense
They continued to assault the hive whenever the brood grew. The swarm would grow big enough to be considered a threat and then be crushed over and over. It was what they called “sport.” The brood was annihilated and kept as a way to increase the greenskin’s strength. They did not know that the hive was intelligent. They underestimated the hive. They would be proven wrong.
Escape
The swarm obeyed. They had been held captive by the biomass for too long. They called themselves greenskins of Waaagh! BadToof. The hive disliked them. The hive would remember. The hive however, is not strong. The brood must grow in peace. The swarm must prosper. For that, the norn-queen must escape.The orks have grown comfortable. They feel the hive will never leave. That was their mistake.
A pack of hormagaunts approached the greenskin watch.
Kill
The gaunts ripped into the surprised orks with quick efficiency. The hive would prevail. The gaunts continued to take out any remaining orks watching the hive, and proceeded. There were no survivors.
Destroy
The gaunts ripped into the explosive weaponry on the outskirts of the hive. They died. So did the walls. It was necessary. Explosions erupted all across the vicinity of the volatile tanks and a chunk of the hulk was ripped off. The hive’s part. The brood was split off and it fled into the void, down towards the planet below. To Crion, as it was called. The hive shall become strong. The hive shall win. The hive shall grow. Long live the hive.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/03/15 21:19:09


Post by: Buttery Commissar


Edward Fairfax sat in the ornately decorated Lord Captain's seat, aboard the bridge of the Reforged Sovereign. They say that uneasy lies the head that wears the crown. Edward had not slept well since the final battle in the Carcharadon system. His already narrow clothes fitted a little looser, his eyes were a little darker. Garth had not seen him smile in all that time, safe for less than half a dozen occasions.
From his seat nearby, the seneschal-commissar's gut and chest ached with the sadness of one watching someone they care for suffer, but having no answer to ease it.

"Ed, you haven't eaten today. You cannot lead your crew like this." Selka spoke quietly.
"My crew?" the former Seneschal turned his head and let his hollow expression settle on Garth, his voice leaden, "This was never my role to take, Garth. He should be here. They all should."
"He trusted you to take it," Garth responded, his own eyes tired, but expression firm, "he always did. That was why he shielded you from the very start, he saw this potential in you. Less of this self-pity."

The lord captain blinked tiredly, "You know, though, the disparity between reasoned thought and grief. I cannot shake this sensation. I'm sorry, so so sorry." his head lowered a fraction, and Garth saw a slight tremor in Edward's shoulders. Almost missable, if you were not attuned to the body language.
It had been five years since the battle. Since Lord Captain Reynard Fairfax had left the home they had both known since childhood, leaving his brother alone to govern and lead his two House Fairfax ships. And while Edward had a mind finely attuned to business, his heart had stopped the moment he had been left.
The soul of the ships had flown with their first Lord Captain and his troops, leaving them grave, and dropping morale to an all time low amongst the crew.
The remnants of their regiment that had not requested they return home, were with Reynard now. Only Garth had stayed. And the Histans. The returning men had offered him a home, had he wished to settle, but he knew where he was needed.

"Enough," Garth stood, and took his Lord Captain's hands from the arms of the chair, "you will eat. And you will visit somewhere aboard the ship other than this shrine to the departed, and the inside of your eyelids."
Edward watched him with a slow lift of his head, "If you wish."
"I do. You never gave up on me," the shorter, but far stronger man pulled him to his feet, "and I will not see you go to ruin."
For the first time in weeks, Edward smiled faintly as Selka led him firmly by the hand, "My morale officer."
"Your old dog, you mean." Garth scoffed at the sentimentality.

"So what would you have me attend, Seneschal?" Edward fell into step.
"Our cogboys say that there's an Admech group nearby, quite... Prestigious," by which Selka meant impressive, "they wish to be transported to an outer rim world. Their representative is aboard."
"I shall meet them." the Lord Captain quickened his pace.
Garth caught and slowed him by the elbow, an anchor to the pale captain, "You shall eat first. They will know if you are anything but rested and fed. We cannot ask anyone to put their faith in a man who doesn't look after himself."



Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/03/15 21:21:15


Post by: aldo



Mecit couldn’t remember how much time had passed since he had seen reality for the last time. Traveling through the Warp in a Space Hulk was as far as anything could be from being an exact science. With a heavy sight he was prepared to go back to his nap when everything started to tremble. Demonic howls were heard all aboard the ship as the Warp tried desperately to fasten its grip, and reality started taking over. With a last shake, the mastodontic Space Hulk Cryer of Death, home to one of the many warbands aligned with The Purge, entered realspace.
Shortly after one of the screens around Mercit sparked to life. Lieutenant Hovo, his face half covered in amasec, made no effort to hide his anger.
-Who the feth is in charge of observation? And what the feth was that?
-This is Mecit Zekeriya, sir. Technician. And that was realspace reentry.
-Realspace?! Finally! But where… Oh, my lord, I was just cleaning the amasec bottles when…
Îlkin Hovo was shoved away as Lord Asim Torosian, commander of the Purge, took his place in front of the comms screen.
-Well, technician, amuse me, where are we?
-Our charts confirm this system as Crion, somewhere near Charadon.
-Never heard of it. Looks ripe with life. I want all you have on it, population, garrison, main cities, foodstuff sources, economy, that sort of things. You have one hour. Get working.
-Yes sir.
-Oh, and Zekeriya?
-Sir?
-Don’t go asleep in your position again. Ever.
-Yessir


+++This is Lord Torosian to all the crew, we have entered realspace, I want everyone in position, we are not, I repeat, we are not in friendly space. All superior officers not engaged in essential maintenance works are to report to the bridge immediately+++

The words had barely left the vox units all aboard the inhabited part of the Hulk when three astartes and five mortals entered the makeshift bridge that also served as the Cryer’s main command center.
Price Solak, wearing his distinctive black and green stripped power armour, orange showing through the cracks like a remembrance of the past he had abandoned.
Engin Vaughan, sporting his trademark smile that belied the tales of Astartes’ inhumanity.
And Madoc Tichaona, now more machine than astartes yet always at attention, as if ready to jump on any shadow.
Three astartes, three gods of war, created by the Imperium yet now sworn to cause it’s demise.
Following them were Mansur Bevan, Rukiye Feray, Iestin Konstandin, Katida Aksoy and Eser Kondwani, mortals, yet completely loyal to the Purge, always ready to lay their lives for the cause. For the destruction of all life, and the achievement of final peace.



-... A direct attack on the world’s capital with chem bombardments. That would crack the moral of the defenders instantly.
-Have you seen the anti-air defence graphs? No way I’m sending my birds in against that. We would barely cause enough damage to justify...
-What about leaving them without food? those farm-cities are vulnerable...
-We don’t have the resources nor the time to subdue this world by hunger, we should just jump in and plunder what we can, surely the Imperium will exterminate everything to make sure it isn’t “tainted”.
-No, no, no, we should sack all those ruins, ancient artifacts surely await us there.
-Enough!
All faces that seconds before were bickering around the holo-maps and the data-chips turned towards their leader.
As always, Mansur wondered if the lord, or captain, as his navy-trained mind prefered, would have been as handsome had he not been an astartes. And he always ended with the same answer. No. It was that combination of genetically architecture beauty, too symmetric to be human, that unmistakeable white hair, and those patrician features, which made him an almost hypnotising figure, which, when combined with his natural charisma had given him command of a fanatically loyal force. And considering that that force seldom could decide by itself what to do, it truly was a blessing to have him in command.
With a waving towards the warband’s sorceress the lord spoke - I believe Kondwani has detected the presence of other Illuminated legions in this system.
The witch nodded before mumbling in a half asleep voice-A red banner will soon float in Hive Cogger, and the sons of the Maelstrom have arrived as well. But there is also a laugh in the background of the aether, foreseeing the coming of The Thirsty’s own. And a strange star can be smelled, stealing and assimilating those she comes upon, strangely vampirical yet with a life of its own, shining with a whole rainbow of blessings and curses.
Flaying his servo arms and forcing those around him to duck for cover Madoc imploded-Red banners floating?!The sons of the Maelstrom?! The Thirsty?! Smelling stars?! This witch has finally gone insane, I say.
-You say many things Madoc, sadly most of them aren’t too smart.-replied Vaughan, always ready to poke the older marine
-Keep your mouth shut pup. I trampled my way across the stars way before you were born, I was at the Siege, you know, I saw your father’s blood on his feathers.-
A grin full of scorn appeared in Tichaona’s ravaged and half bionic head.
-And what a job you and your brothers and cousins did, failing at achieving anything, even with overwhelming numerical superiority. Surely we must listen to a man capable of such strategic feats. -laughter- As for that father of mine, at least he wasn’t the one who lowered the shields of his battle barge and allowed the False Emperor to destroy him, was he?- Parried the ex-blood angel.
-I said enough! The sorcerer has proved a useful tool across the years. And we
would be way better if you two employed your time in something productive instead of discussing the size of your respective fathers’ genitals.
As always, the Lord’s wrath put an end to the discussion.
And then a mortal voice asked-My lord, if I may…
-Yes Lieutenant Aksoy?
The Lieutenant looked at her data-crystal-I have some coincidences here. The Sons of the Maelstrom are, I’d bet my last credit, a reference to the Red Corsairs… Anything to add lord Solak?
The marine quickly hid his shock beyond a poker face that revealed absolutely nothing -Keep going mortal, I have nothing to say about my once-brothers.
-And this red banner thing I don’t know what it is, but what we have caught on some orbital scans of Hive Clogger fits right in with other data regarding a band calling itself “The Flayed Legion”, which then, brings us to one of their cultist band’s aliases, “Brotherhood of the Red Banner”. As for The Thirsty, it's a somewhat looser connection, but as our dear sorcerer went on a binge of eldar soulstones lately… it could be a connection to the eldar name of the Dark Prince, which points us to…
The Lord cut her-The Third.
-Yes my lord.
-Hum, all humans I’ve known have said that family meetings are horrible things. Would you adhere to that Lieutenant Feray?
The aforementioned chuckled- I killed my family for a chance to get out of the slums, sir, I doubt any meeting with them would be too happy on my side.
-Forgot about that part of your biography. But even if we manage to negotiate joint action with the our other “Enlightened” cousins, we will need a place of our own to deploy. I doubt we can keep hiding our presence for too long, and this half-collapsed hulk is hardly a space superiority vessel...
-If I may, my lord, there is a minor city isolated in an island in Luna Epsilon, apparently lacking all but the lightest of defences. We are in a dire need of supplies after a warp jump this long. And the witch - said Katida while glancing at Kondwani- says that the Warp has already started to take a hold in that moon, so it could provide us with a safe-ish base in the system.
Katida quickly switched the system-wide holomap to a full view of Luna Epsilon, and then to the city named Arcadis Bay.
-As you can all see, while its position doesn’t favour a combat landing, it would be vulnerable enough should we deploy in the western half of the island, Montessa, and go from there.
Torosian started spinning the map-Possible… And it's not like we do have any better target to hit for supplies. Solak, Bevan, I want eyes and a couple of birds down there, so start moving. Engin and Feray, get everyone prepared for deployment, we are leaving this hulk once we hear the LZ is clear. And no, Kostandin, I don’t care about your lab, pack it in any way you can. Kondwani, you know the drill, Madoc, I want this whole damn hull rigged with explosives. While we can’t use this as a base anymore, it will do us a last service. Aksoy, you are on babysitting duty, watch out and keep everyone from fething up. I will see you all in five hours, get working.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/03/15 21:54:04


Post by: Kharne the Befriender


=====In the 5 years since Crusade of Fury=====
The Kageros were twice shattered, but had rebuilt.
In the 5 years since the 2nd Sundering the Kageros had quadrupled its former numbers. The Tau were instrumental in supplying the power Voor’Han needed to repair and grow.
3 fleets had been constructed, each led by a Tombship. The Arbalest was rebuilt, the Sword of Olmagh was outfitted for combat once again, and the Eradicator’s Lance was constructed.
Kageros’ fleet guarded Voor’Han and kept their vigil like amber and ivory sentinels.
Rak’than’s fleet was orbiting Prin’Shek helping the Rix’lan build.
Grulahk’s fleet was geared for war and reclamation, and so it would do.
=====Throne Room of the Eradicator’s Lance=====
Grulahk sat on his throne and pondered his life. When he first awoke, he was nothing but a shard of his former self, cast into the faceless ranks to kill, to eradicate, to reclaim… now here he was, sitting on the throne of his very own Tombship, at the head of an army with the rank of Nemesor. He peered at his new staff, looked and watched as the amber energy ran through it like water, flowing through the ivory colored shaft, taking note of its contrast to his now black death mask. As much as he liked the staff, it was mainly to denote position, he will still don his twin Void Blades in combat. He remembered the final, decisive conflict and how so many legions were shattered, but that was something the Dynasty was used to.

The glyphs that arose before him broke his concentration. They were approaching the planet, it was time. Grulahk rose from his throne and acknowledged his guard. He turned to his left and walked towards the hangar, he passed Ultarn who followed behind him. Ultarn was the Lord of the Warrior Legions, a formidable warrior in combat and a brilliant on the fly tactician. Grulahk continued towards the hangar through the scarab pits, Numek was soon behind him as well, him and his pet scarab Kephri. Numek was the Cryptek of Lesser Swarms, and creator of the Canoptek Locusts that were guarded on Voor’Han. Finally Grulahk had made it to the command perch in the hangar, Ultarn stepped to his left and Numek stepped to his right. Grulahk looked at his Court with confidence before speaking to his gathered legions, “We have arrived at Crion. We are here for one thing, to tame this planet for the Kageros! He looked upon his legions and felt confident, “We are not here for the other Necrons, they forsake us and so we forsake them, and we are stronger for it. This is our time for reclamation. This is our time for conquest. This is our time to reach out into the galaxy and show everyone that it is ours by right! If we can not bring it into our grasp then we will bring it to it’s knees and sever its head!” He shot his arm into the air, bearing his staff, then slammed into the ground. The following surge struck the ship and brought it to full power. Grulahk couldn’t have felt more confident of his legions, “No peace but war!” The entirety of the legions replied, “No life but death!” The shout reverberated through Grulahk’s metallic hull and through the ship. Grulahk took a final gaze to drink in this honor before bellowing, “TO WAR!”
The Legions were assembled...
The Swarms were roused...
The War Engines powered to life...
Grulahk, Second Nemesor of the Kageros Dynasty, Ascendant Warrior, Master of Reclamation...
Marched to war…
=====Deployment Bay, Eradicator’s Lance=====
Grulahk sat in the deployment bay of the Eradicator’s Lance with Numek and Ultarn studying the holomap in front of them. They would be dropping into a clearing just 20 kilometers south-east of the agreed site where they would begin the tunneling. Grulahk looked up to speak to his companions, “We will have the Tomb Blades scout ahead while we deploy the Warriors and Immortals into the clearing. After we reach the excavation site, we will make a clearing for our Canoptek units to deploy. Does anyone object?” Numek spoke first, “Shouldn’t we take this opportunity to let the swarms move through and collect energy from the vegetation?” Kephri make a small chortling noise. Grulahk pondered this, “We will bring in a tenth of our scarabs and let them help carve a path.” He looked at the glyph to the south of where they would be deploying, “What of these feral Orks? Will they be a problem?” Ultarn tilted his head to one side then to the other as if trying to see if the glyph actually existed, “They shouldn’t be a problem, our scythes are faster than anything they could throw at us. If we make a night insertion, we should be practically undetectable.” “Good.” Grulahk said not fully paying attention to his comrades. He was in deep thought about what lay ahead, the Imperium was hear. There would be no salvation for them. Numek glared at the map, “There will be nothing left of them on this planet.” Ultarn gave a wicked grin, “They will know fear.”
=====Yankor, Crion III=====
The flotilla of Scythes screamed into the atmosphere at speeds that would kill lesser beings. They dropped to just above the treeline, their white hulls glowing with an orange tint from the sheer heat generated from entering the atmosphere. The only thing that gave them away was wailing cacophony that seemed to split the air itself. It took only a minute for every Scythe to fly over the clearing, and only a minute for the entire force to make landing. Grulahk signaled to Numek and Ultarn to start moving. Only the rhythmic thud and clang of mechanical limbs marching through the forests were heard that night.

It wasn’t until around noon the next day they came to an impasse, a very narrow and rocky valley hindering their movements. Grulahk gathered his court, “We can only march in ranks of 3, I wish not to have my Legions crushed by rocks.” Numek spoke as Grulahk went to turn, “I’ll send the scarabs ahead, they’ll prepare the excavation site for our arrival.” Grulahk nodded, “Good idea, have them scout, when they are on the other side we will start marching,” He looked to both commanders, “Groups of 30, 3 columns of 10, 5 minute intervals.” They all nodded and organised the soldiers accordingly. By the Time they finished, the scarabs reported back, it was time to move. Grulahk thought to himself of how he would design the layout to the base and tunnel network. He would have to prioritise structures and roo-. His line of thought cut off as he saw a strange white object on the ground. As he came upon it, he stepped to the side to allow the Immortals to pass by. He reached down and picked up the small item. It as peculiar in shape and material, he searched his internal database to determine what it was. Grulahk finally took realization of what he was holding. It was made of Wraithbone… only one race possessed the ability to make such abysmal material, “Eldar...” Grulahk recoiled as his arm was severed from his body by a blast coherent light. He snarled as he quickly turned and snapped of a shot from his staff, reducing a rock into nothingness. He scanned the side of the valley for any signs of life. Content that whatever Eldar that shot him was either dead or gone. He stuck his staff in the ground, picked up his arm, and sat on a rock. He looked at the ground and noticed that the idol had been incinerated by the shot. Grulahk looked at the arm he still held in his hand, taking note of the glyphs on its surface. It was only another minute before he heard more marching. Numek, at seeing Grulahk holding his severed arm rushed forward, “We leave your side for five minutes and this is what happens? What did happen?” Grulahk looked up and chuckled, “Long story, I’ll explain later. Mind giving me a hand?” He raised his severed arm at the last word. “Of course,” He looked to Kephri who was on his shoulder and nodded in Grulahks direction. The scarab picked up the arm and began to re-attach it and repair his shoulder. By the time he was finished Ultarn had just arrived. “What happened?” “Long story…” There was a bit of a pause before Grulahk continued, “We should get moving, we are but an hour’s march away.”


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/03/15 22:14:18


Post by: Sgt. Vanden


He readied his crozius, he would have need of it once more. The coming battle was to be hard. Traitor Astartes were holed up in a church dedicated to the Emperor, and Iodius hated the guardsmen for letting them go that far. The guard fell back under the slaughter of the Black Legion. They should've died there with their honour, instead of abandoning their posts and letting these heathens pollute the Emperor's holy place. The pilot of the Thunderhawk 'Spear of Thraxes' could be heard over Iodius' vox.
"Twenty seconds to target Brother-Chaplain."
"My thanks Mikelus, drop us off then go back to base. We will notify Thunderhawk 'Vex Calisum' for pick up." Iodius did not have to wait for the pilot's acknowledgement, it was not required. Mikelus would do as he was told. He looked upon the 9 warriors standing in the crew compartment of the thunderhawk, all wearing jump-packs. This was not advised by the Codex Astartes, but they had no other choice. All other attempts to take back the church from ground forces was pushed back in less than 3 hours.
"Brothers, these traitors have defiled the sacred sanctity of one of the Emperor's holy places. This will not, this shall not, stand. We shall descend upon them like angels of the Emperor and show them His justice. Show no mercy, for they shall not give any themselves." Iodius began the Litany of Hate, and his warriors chanted with him even as they dropped from the moving thunderhawk.

The distance between them and their target was closing, the roof of the church being 300 metres away now. Iodius gripped the hilt of Herald of His Will tightly. Iodius had been in possession of this crozius arcanum for almost 300 years, and he was not about to lose it now. It had seen the deaths of thousands of heretics, xenos and even daemons. 150 metres. He activated the rune in his helmet that indicated to his warriors to activate jump packs, not that they needed it. In check, his brothers activated them, and Iodius waited until the very last moment to activate his own, wanting the traitors to feel his coming a lot more than hear it. Iodius crashed through the ceiling of the church and straight onto a bewildered Black Legionnaire. The impact killed him straight away, leaving only a crater where his head was. Iodius was off bounding towards the traitors before they knew what hit them. Iodius's brothers were close behind him, crushing a further 3 traitors beneath their boots. Even though Iodius's warriors had the element of surprise, they were still outnumbered, and the Black Legionnaires were regaining the advantage. Brother Hugio was brought down by bolter fire, where brother Tavros had his body cleaved in two by a massive chainaxe, wielded by an aspiring champion of chaos. Iodius caved in the face of the nearest chaos marine, and put a bolt round through the face of another. Sergeant Klaudious blocked the aspiring champions axe with his combat shield, before striking back with the tip of his power sword. The blade sliced through his armour, and embedded itself deep inside the chaos champion. He fell back with a grunt, but the sergeant gave no room to breathe, driving the sword even deeper and ripping side wards, ripping out of the Traitors side. He finished off with a quick cut to the throat, silencing his curses for good. Iodius lost sight of the sergeant as two traitor astartes tackled the sergeant out of sight, through a wall. Brother Quintus was scythed down by increasing bolter fire, Iodius saw 7 traitors forming a firing line. A bolt hit Iodius in his crozius arm, and he felt it detonate. He was flung back by the impact, yet still not losing his grip on Herald of His Will. It was over. The element of surprise was lost, and the numbers were against them nearly 3-1. Iodius gave a roar of rage as he realized he was going to finally die. The roar was cut short by unimaginably loud gunfire, but not from the church.

Bullets flew through the ceiling of the church, and paved a way to the traitors forming the firing line, 2 managed to hurl themselves from its path, but the rest were not as fortunate. The heavy caliber shells tore the Legionnaires to ribbons, some shells struck the ammunition they were storing in that side of the church. Its ignition scythed down the two that found cover, and another one in the blast radius. A voice could be heard over Iodius's vox, and the familiar voice of Mikelus sounded in his ear.
"Sorry Chaplain, but I think I forgot to give these traitors my welcome to planet Oxion before I left." He mused. The pilot had guts, and that’s why Iodius liked him so much. He had natural skill, and Iodius believed that he was just waiting for the right opportunity to strike the traitors, not that he would tell Mikelus, It would hurt his feelings, being that gullible. A total 8 traitors had been killed by Iodius's warriors, Mikelus's strafing run claiming another 8, 9 remained, the odds had been evened, and Iodius would not give the traitors time to regroup. He launched himself at another Legionnaire, one that bore a mark of Khorne. The Khornate responded by slicing at Iodius with his ragged tooth chainsword. Iodius ducked underneath the wild swing and hammered his crozius into the traitor’s torso, stunning him, and leaving him easy prey for Iodius's return stroke. It caught the traitor on the back of his head, and made a dull sound as it connected. Iodius was of looking for more heathens to smite before the body hit the ground. Brother Nerelon fell beside Iodius, his breastplate caved in. Iodius turned to see the glowing form of yet another champion of Khorne, this time with a powerfist. Iodius barely sidestepped the first attack before he was buffeted by the second strike, which sent him flying backwards into the statue of the Emperor. He looked up to see the champion bounding towards him. He met the third strike head on, and turned the fist aside with his crozius, Iodius punched the champion in his exposed face. Iodius continued his barrage of attacks, though the champion regained his posture and began parrying Iodius's attacks with equal vigor. Iodius bit his tongue as the champion brought his powerfist down onto his knee, shattering the bone. Iodius fell to his knees, only to have the Khornate plant a foot on his chest, and push back. Iodius fell onto his back, the full weight of the warrior on him. His chestplate buckled, and would not hold for very long. Then the weight was gone. He opened his eyes to see Brother-Sergeant Klaudious wrestling with the Khornate. Klaudious's arm that held the combat shield was hanging loosely at his side, with no sign of the shield. Iodius saw Klaudious struggling with something, a melta bomb, his fingers were fumbling for the timer to set. The Khornate pushed Klaudious off of him, and threw a wild haymaker at the sergeant. Klaudious barely dodged it, but instead of falling back under the salvo of attacks he was about to receive, he jumped towards them. With a speed Iodius had never seen by one who suffered so many wounds, Klaudious attached the melta bomb to the Khornates chestplate, before embracing him and activating his jump-pack. Iodius saw them both fly up and out of the ceiling, then hearing a loud explosion moments later. He felt the shockwave from the melta bombs detonation wash over him, and a body dropped back down of the hole. Iodius limped over to see it was the still-breathing form of Klaudious.
"By the Emperor Brother, how'd you manage to live through that?" Gasped Iodius as he helped the wounded veteran up.
"Kicked the bastard away before it blew, can't say I gave it enough time to detonate though...But hey, hindsight would've helped a lot of people..." Klaudious managed. The front half of his armour was melted off, only through extreme stubbornness was Klaudious able to stay conscious. Another Battle-Brother fell, Brother Tulius, judging by the distinct kill markings on his bolter. His killer was in turn killed by vengeful space marines. The last Black Legionnaire fell. The battle had been won. The sergeant now being in the care of his squad, Iodius kneeled in front of the pristine statue of the Emperor. Gave thanks for the lives of his warriors, and a prayer for those who had fallen this day. Their names would be remembered.

Iodius ran a hand through his greying black hair. The geneseed extraction was complete, and the bodies of the four warriors who had fallen were onboard the 'Vex Calisum'. The remained of the squad, barring Sergeant Klaudious, who had insisted he sit with the fallen to say his farewell to them, sat aboard the 'Spear of Thraxes'. Brother Manorian sat with half an arm, Brother Fallion would never walk on organic legs again and Brother Sevanus would never see out of his right eye without bionics. The remainder of the squad sat with relatively miniscule wounds, Iodius himself would need reconstruction on his left knee. Just another wound Iodius suffered over the 350 years of battle. His bionic eye automatically put another entry on a spread sheet he had made 150 years prior to this engagement. On it were all of the wounds he had suffered, and by whom. Left eye: Bionics was the first on the list. Kroot Shaper was written next to it. Further down the list, minor wounds such as broken bones were tabbed en-masse, as they needed little recognition. Iodius subconsciously reached up and traced the scar that went across his bionic eye. Little did Iodius know, was that a lot more entries were going to be input into the list in the next 24 months.

As Iodius reached the bridge of the battle-barge 'Lucifus Tempestus', he was greeted by his new Chapter-Master Aladar, Captain Ceasar Xenthes and one unknown figure clad in black.
"Ah Chaplain, I hear you were successful in the eviction of the Black Legion." Aladar exclaimed.
"Aye, they shall think twice before defiling another sacred place of the Emperor." Iodius replied. He was in a bad mood. His prayer had been disturbed by this visitor, and he wanted to know why. "Might I ask, Milord, who this may be?" He gestured to the figure.
"Do not be worried by me, I am simply a servant of the Emperor. And I sincerely doubt they will even think if they’re going to defile anything else, heretics don’t think. They are simply animals you are sent to kill. Nothing more." The figure explained.
"So I see stranger, I will choose to ignore your last comment, however, not all servants of the God-Emperor are allowed onto the bridge of a battle-barge and demand audience with the Chapters highest ranking members." Iodius raised his voice, his anger clearly apparent. "Now show yourself before I come over there and show you one of our MANY airlocks. Speak quickly. For my patience wears thin."
"As you wish Chaplain..." He sighed and lifted his cowl, revealing a shaven head with a tattoo of an 'I' on his forehead. "I, am an Inquisitor Haden Gisbert of the Ordos Hereticus. And your chapter has been reassigned."
Captain Ceasar tilted his head towards Iodius, who stood with a fire in his eyes. His hate for Inquisitors was apparent. Very apparent. Almost leaning towards treason…Ceasar would have to make conversation about how to be subtle…But that could wait, they had more pressing matters to attend now.
"Told you it was important." Captain Ceasar mused.

Edit: Nevermind my previous statement...


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/03/15 23:41:46


Post by: VladimirUhl


*1st person in Kauvlosk out of combat, 3rd person in combat
I sit upon my throne of living metal. It molds itself to my ever shifting positions. I am mildly uncomfortable even though it fits me perfectly. I have not seen combat for some time, and my hands are clean of blood. I watch my legion of flayed ones mill about the chambers of my corner of this plane of existence. I wish to be home on my tomb world. The one given to me by my lord Tsara’noga (The Outsider). When I went into stasis many millennia ago, he disappeared. I do not know if he was destroyed like Llandu’gor (The Flayer), the cursed C’tan whose curse has afflicted my people, or if he is out there somewhere hiding. I wish I knew, and I am hunting for him. I once again gaze upon my legion. I am disgusted with the way to wear their trophies over their twisted bodies, but, in the end, I too am one of them. My Overlord Gilutekh approaches me with adorned with his most recent hunt and blood smeared across his stained orange face. If I was capable of cringing, I would have at this moment. Behind him approaches Ilbist, the last lord in the Vazskphores dynasty. I do not remember what Ilbist was before being implanted in her body of living metal, but she has always been stern on being called a “she,” though I do not understand her fascination with the flesh of females. Taking their titles and applying them to herself has always made me feel uncomfortable. It is almost a compliment to the living. I gaze upon her most recent trophy. She had sliced a female officer perfectly down the middle and fashioned a sort of coat out of the unsuspecting imperial.
“M-m-m-my lord,” Gilutekh speaks suddenly, “Ilbist has found… a s-s-s-signal. We do not know if it. It. It is a shard of our l-l-l-lord Tsara’noga, but it. It. It is w-w-worth looking into.” He stutters in his speech, the gore adorned upon his wretched form obviously affecting his sanity and speech.
“Yes… my lord. It seems to be strong, though we can’t be certain,” Ilbist interjects. She was always a little stronger in her resistance to the Flayer Virus than Gilutekh, but she was younger and less experienced than he. Out of all of my legion, only Gilutekh, Ilbist, and I have a resistance to the virus, though once enough gore reaches our path, we too lose our ability to understand.
“Are you sure it is a shard… are you sure Tsara’noga was even split into shards?” I ask in as much of an interrogative tone as I can muster in my metallic shape.
“I… wish I was certain. But it could be a lead as to the whereabouts of our master,” Ilbist trys to dampen what she thinks will be anger.
“P-p-please lord… do n-n-not be harsh on I-I-Ilbist…” Gilutekh tries to suade me.
“Do not worry… I know you cannot be certain. It would be best to investigate this signal we are picking up on. I appreciate your attempts to find our master.” I stare into the dead eyes of Ilbist and swear I see some light flicker, though it was likely the glint of fresh blood. “Gilutekh… I need you to summon the legion here. I need you to gather them and herd them. It is most important.”
“My lord,” Ilbist interjects once again. “I also know that many sources of living are converging on this point. I do not know what it is or why it is there, but something is happening there. Something big.”
“Good. There will be another great culling of life. Many more trophies,” I stop midway through my speech. It is hard for me to finish. “To collect and display. It will be a most… pleasant addition to my palace back home.”
“I hope w-w-we find some t-t-t-tyranids… their carapaces make for g-g-g-great wall mounts…” Gilutekh states. He was always one for finding the best cuts of each hunt and fashioning great displays. I look up on my throne. A hive tyrant’s skull, the gore long since rotted away, hangs above me. A testament to my strength.
“If there is so much life converging… we can be certain more will join. And if there is not, there will always be… another day. We are patient… we can wait, can we not?” I ask Gilutekh.
“Always another d-d-day…” he turns to gather my army. I glare at his trophy again. It is so crude, and yet it holds some morbid beauty.
“Perhaps we should discuss how to take the origin of the signal, my liege.” Ilbist suggests.
“Not yet… I want some scouts sent in to see what we are dealing with, and I want you to personally pick the best ones to do it. I do believe we had some Deathmarks before the Flayer Virus hit us, and I’m sure that you can identify them. They surely will remember their techniques and hunting methods, and they will make for good scouts. That is your task. Go find the flayed ones who used to be Deathmarks and go find out what you can about this signal.”
“I would be… most honored my lord. I will go at once.” Ilbist turns and steps down before disappearing into the ranks of my subjects. I feel something inside of me light up. A passion for death. It always shows up when I know a great hunt is about to begin. I shift slightly to the left, and my throne accommodates me. I hope there is a lead on the whereabouts of Tsara’noga, for finding him will complete my existence. Until then, however, I must satisfy myself by becoming that which I hate most and collect my own trophies. If only the Flayer Virus had not hit my people. I wish them to become normal. I hope Tsara’noga can cure our curse, but even in that I am not sure. I have searched thousands of worlds, and still I have no idea where my C’tan is… though I am almost sure he is out there somewhere just waiting to be found.
With my advisors gone off to complete their tasks, it is only me and my thoughts. I thought back to the days before I would sit with the wretched husks of their former selves. As if they weren’t enough of a husk already. Normally the lesser layers of necrons awake first, though I was an exception due to the AI failing and causing me to be the first to awake on my tomb world, and my advisors awoke shortly after me. I would guess a mere one hundred years after me. They were so different then, and so was I. Before the virus contorted my undying warriors, Gilutekh was so much more fluent in speech. He could craft elaborate speeches, and my warriors hung onto his words with silent eagerness. I swear… when he spoke, I could almost see life in my necron soldiers. He would talk for hours and hours, and I would never tire of him. But… when he was inflicted he lost his sense of what humor he had. What life that energized him was no more. He craved the trophies almost as much as the average lumbering flayed one. It was… hard for me to accept his hands transforming into the great flaying knives that they are now. And Ilbist was once the greatest military genius I could have asked for. Her ability to coordinate assassinations and assaults would awe many of my fellow overlords. Some had even asked to borrow her assistance, but those days are past. Now she lumbers here and there, and she only retains her genius when the trophies adorned upon her body rot away. I too was once different. I once tried to force my legion to new heights. I was strict and hostile. Now that I think about it again, I was a very unpleasant overlord even by necron standards. But now I watch my legion drag their malformed bodies around while I sharpen my fingers. I try to keep my form as clean as I can, for it clears my conscious. It is hard to keep the gore away from yourself when you have a thousand gore adorned minions always moving up and down. They brush against you leaving streaks of blood.
Gilutekh returns to me. If I could smell, I might be repulsed right now. “What do you require Gilutekh. I thought you had a task.”
“M-m-my most b-b-beloved lord. The f-f-flayed ones are n-n-not respond-d-ding. They are… most unorthodox.” Gilutekh’s old self shines through his disgusting new form with his last word, but I am most displeased with this news. Ilbist was off scouting whatever it was that was producing this signal, and I expected my warriors to be ready. I think a bit before remembering that they are flayed ones, and they listen when they want to.
“Do not worry Gilutekh. Let them relax and they will listen if they will. If you cannot calm and have them listen, then just let them be.” I tell my assistant. Gilutekh of all people should know how to handle these creatures, but I let it slide.
“Very well m-m-my lord. I will l-l-let let them be for n-n-now.” He turns and walks away. That was a waste of my time, but I have plenty of time to waste. I waste it rambling and throwing my thoughts against the wall. Rambling and thinking like I am now. It comforts me in my distress. The pressure of the flayer virus stresses my body. If I am to lead then I must look a leader, but it is hard to appear the part when your body twists and hunches over. You begin to blend in with your subjects. Ah… it’s been so long since I have tasted what one might call normal. Rambling again I see.
“You’re worthless.” I tell myself. “Why are you here?” I would have sighed right now if I was capable, but my form does not allow me to. It doesn’t not allow me to do many things like quench my bloodlust. “This situation I have is… most… vile.” I shift again as my throne slowly adapts to my body. Waiting for those around me is most… boring. I sit and wait… and I sit. And I wait more. I slowly watch my brothers’ trophies rot until they leave in search of more…. gore. I am most tired, but I do not tire. I lay awake forever watching. I have seen many days go by. Years even. As the time passes I wait for Ilbist to return from her mission. I truly desire to know if the signal is a shard or a clue to the potential whereabouts of my lord. A figure passes me. I stand, though I look hunched and ancient. I have not worn a skin in years, so my twisted plates of ornate symbolic armor glisten in the odd lightings of this plane. The deep orange figure approaches me, and it is hard to tell whether or not it is Ilbist or not, but she speaks.
“My lord. I have confirmed not what the place is, but that the signal is most important. If it is not a shard or clue, it is something of equal importance that I have not discovered yet.” Ilbist does what bow she can in her legs double jointed legs. It flatters me a little, but I must know what has happened.
“Did you find anything of… importance other than the signal, and how many flayed ones did we lose?”
“Nothing else, just a lot of living to cull and trophies to be had. And we lost no flayed ones. The flayed ones that used to be deathmarks were superb in stealth, and we were undetected.
“Good. I am pleased with your work Ilbist. Prepare for a great harvest.”
“With pleasure my lord… I am most thrilled.” I would have laughed at this point. Ilbist knows I would have too. She has a knack for that sort of thing. She has a gift for understanding things that most could only dream of. “Perhaps we should plan something?” She is eager. I know she is. She wanted to find a pretty pretty officer to carve up and fashion some disgusting new coat. I know that once battle came, I’d probably find myself wearing some random man whose face looked decent. I feel my body twist a little in what probably replaced a shudder. I decide to humor her.
“I suppose we should.” I walk over to a table like object that has nothing on it. It is clean and fresh and ready for planning. “What have you learned?”
“I learned that a second necron force is there... though what and why is beyond me. I know they are there. I know that there are three places of possible conflict. That is all.” Ilbist would have smiled. I know it. She is always proud of herself.
“I see. I think we should postpone any actual planning until we know a little more? I know you are eager, but we need to know more about this place until we arrive. Flayed ones have little regard for safety, so we must be careful.” Ilbist stares at me with her cold dead eyes.
“Yes my lord… I. I see.” She is disappointed as she should be. I know she saw a target while she was out scouting for me. She doesn’t press the issue any further. She knows my word is final. I pity her. If only she knew what had happened to her entirely.
“Worry not Ilbist. Your time will come. First we need Gilutekh to round up our army.” Ilbist perks up at the word army. She was my military advisor after all. She is very intelligent, though sometimes she forgets that.
“Should I check on Gilutekh my lord?” Ilbist almost pleads it seems.
“I suppose you should. Gilutekh should be among the rest of the flayed ones, though you might not find him. His trophy is just as crude as the rest.” I wave her off, and she goes off to complete the mundane task I gave her. She’s a special one, I will give her that. I try to sigh again, though after a millennia of being awake, I should know that I am not able to. Gilutekh approaches me and tries to bow. “Do not worry Gilutekh. Let’s talk.”
“Yes m-m-m-m-my lord?” Gilutekh utters. I notice he has a fresh trophy again. He can’t go very long without new trophies. I know that as a truth. “What d-do you n-n-need from m-m-m-me?”
“I just want t-” I feel my mind rattle a little as blood from Gilutekh’s fresh trophy puddles at my feet. “I want to talk to you. I want to see if you can still speak like so long ago.” I know he can’t, but it is entertaining to see him try. I know he wants to go back to the good old days.
“Well m-my lord if y-y-you insi-si-sist.” I heard a rattle in his metal ribcage to mimic something of clearing his throat. “G-g-go on y-y-you t-t-tin cans. The C-C-C’tan didn’t b-b-less you with immortality for n-n-n-no reason. Fight you f-f-filthy scrap. Y-y-you disgust me you vermin.” He starts to point his knife-like fingers towards me to mimic pointing at his troops and giving orders. His body starts to quake under the pressure of him trying to think too hard.
“You can stop Gilutekh. It was most pleasing. You have not lost your touch too much.” Once he stops, his body calms down. He returns to his normal state. “It appears that a great battle is about to happen, and I want in on this.” I say to my advisors. “It is going to happen, and I hope you’re both ready.” I look at the table like object. “Now… here is what we are going to do…”


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/03/16 00:24:13


Post by: TheEyeOfNight



Lord Edrick Eisell, Baron of Hive Cogger's South District, had never imagined that rebellion would come to his city. Yet for the past hour, the skies had been black with smoke, the streets were aflame with madness, and it was becoming more and more clear that he had previously possessed insufficient imagination for what was happening. Struggling to fasten his pistol belt around his waist, Lord Eisell ran through the spire tower, shouting and gesturing at guardsmen as they piled his valuables into crates. His guard captain, a hard-bitten mercenary of a dozen campaigns if the man's resume was to be believed, stayed beside him with every step. The man's giant rifle rested in the direction of the noise and chaos, and for the twenty-eighth time since the revolt began, reminded Eisell that the rebels were getting closer.

"I know, I know!" Eisell waved him off frantically, motioning for a pair of guardsmen to load the next box of fine art into the transport outside. "I just..Jael! Where are you!"

His wife, a slender beauty far too young for him, staggered through one of the doors to the rooftop garden. Her hair was disheveled, framing a vacant gaze to which Eisell had become accustomed. "I just- I want to bring the flowers! They'll die if I don't! Well, the yellows will, but the blue ones never fade..."

Her floral sentiment was cut short by a thunderous blast from outside the spire. A gunship swept through the sky, ablaze from every angle, and slammed into the street below with the force of a battle cannon. Eisell grabbed his wife's arm and began to run, waving at the remaining guards.

"Quickly! Leave the rest! The Emperor will protect!"

* * * *

The Aquila Shrine groaned mightily as the last of the home-brewed demolition charges blew out its foundation. A great eagle's head, which once gazed out over a congregation of thousands, slammed into the street and cracked into deformed slabs. The rebels raised a cheer which echoed from every spire in the southern district, streaming over the debris by the hundreds. Some brandished weapons, both newfound and heirlooms, and fired off meaningless rounds into the air. Others ran with tattered red banners clutched in their hands: old curtains, bloody garment, and bedsheets alike. Theirs was the bolder defiance: to chase the retreating guardsmen bearing little more than their defiant spirit.

A lone figure, moving slowly amongst the horde of rebels, stopped with one foot on the eagle's deformed eye. It was a symbolic victory, but Lazarus was never one for symbolism. The fallen shrine opened a clear line of fire for one of their hijacked defense guns to sight on the dividing wall between the southern and western districts.

The lho-stick between his lips lit up sharply, in contrast to the cerulean glow of his artificial eye. He nodded once, and raised a handheld radio. The old serial number could still be made out beneath the blood smear of its previous owner: some forgotten Lieutenant of Cogger's defense forces, who still had enough glorylust in him to try to stop the rebels' advance.

"Do you see the wall, Isaac?"

The return voice was muffled by static. "Yes, Father!"

"Bring it down."

With cracks like thunder, giant anti-aircraft shells streaked overhead, erupting in plumes of fire and smoke across the western division wall. Powderized concrete drifted down after each relentless impact, and the steady drumbeat drove the throng of rebels to a higher and higher frenzy. Lazarus narrowed his eyes, as if he could see through the wall to the other side. The city's defenders were closing ranks, retreating to the fortified safety of the hive center with their leaders, and he had a timetable to keep.

The gunfire from Isaac's commandeered defense gun quieted, and Lazarus imagined the young man was peering through the smoke, trying to see if he had cracked the wall yet. Lazarus inhaled deeply on the lho-stick, tasting the thick tang of its leaves mixed with the dust and blood in the air. He pressed the radio button.

"Again."

* * * *

The siege doors slammed shut behind Lord Eisell, rattling with the grudging motion of enormous locks and barriers. A dozen guardsmen leaped to the task of replacing a makeshift barrier, more for the comfort of their own minds than anything else: whatever could pierce the courtyard doors would certainly make little work of a few tires and a bench. Lady Jael stumbled behind him, struggling to hold onto an armful of pale blue flowers from her garden. The hem of her dress was torn and muddy, a sober reminder of the rubble and disaster they had dashed through to make it here. Eisell stopped, catching his breath, and turned to her. She was frightened, it was written in detail across her face, and he cupped her cheek gently with his palms.

"It's alright, Jael. They are rebels, scoundrels, and thugs, not an army. We are safe here, and safe we will stay." He forced a winning smile, the kind he wore at official functions or when he had to deliver bad news. "Go, find a place to plant your flowers, yes?"

Her face brightened instantly. "Yes! Yes, I will!" She shuffled off towards the closing shutters of a great observation window, cradling the armful of plants. "The red ones are vibrant, but the blue ones..."

Lord Eisell watched her go with a heavy sigh, closing his eyes as he allowed a faint feeling of security to seep into him. The courtyard was near the high center of Hive Cogger, overshadowed only by the Governor's personal palace. That location was neither secure nor defensible, but this courtyard door could easily outlast anything a rabble of poorly-armed peasants could muster. The polished pistol at his hip felt heavier now, with the weight of hope, and he puffed out his chest as he turned to face the handful of mercenaries that made up his personal guard. "What are you waiting for? Find a position!"

The men began to scramble, and Eisell allowed a trace of his glorious old war days to tint his commands. He stood straighter, striding towards the gate with a sense of purpose he'd not felt in years. "Bring up ammunition! Pass out arms! Any man too afraid to fight can help my wife plant her flowers!"

A laugh, even a nervous one, echoed around the compound as the fighting outside drew closer. Eisell paid it no heed, and leveled an authoritative hand at the massive iron doors marking the courtyard's entrance.

"We are men of Hive Cogger, and on these gates the enemies of the Emperor will perish!"

* * * *

By the word of the Flayed Lord
And stars which bleed at his command

By the blades of His legion
And the worlds which lie dead in their wake

You will not live to the dawn.




Spoiler:

PERSONA NON GRATA:
The Flayed Legion, featuring:

Lazarus as the Demagogue

Bukhis as the Bull

Medraut as the Champion

Nagana as the Apostle

A'Khel as the Sorcerer

Crixus as the Madman

Tyre as the Bloodborn

and

The Flayed Lord as Himself



Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/03/16 00:48:31


Post by: War Kitten


Knight Intro Part Two

Moira Valorn walked silently along the corridors of the Space Wolves vessel lost in thought. The Strike Cruiser had arrived in orbit above the first moon of Crion, and the ship was a madhouse as both Knight and Wolf raced to make their final preparations for the Crusade, and several times Moira had to flatten herself against the wall to make room for Space Wolves who were rushing to the transport bay in preparation for their drop. The Space Wolves would be the first ones to land on the planet, and it would be their job to secure the landing zone so that the Moira and her Siblings would be able to unload their Knights safely, and for that Moira was appreciative. It would be a delicate process to get their Knight suits from the ship down to the planet, and they needed as much time as they could get to ensure the process went smoothly, but that was not the source of her consternation. She had recently received the news that her House would not be the only one fighting in this Crusade. There was another house from their homeworld who was making an appearance, House Cyrene, who had long been the greatest rivals of her House, although the reasons for this had been lost with her parents. Moira prayed with all her might that He would not make an appearance, that they had sent someone else. It had been several years since they had last spoken, and she didn’t think her heart would survive if they had sent Him. She sighed and shook herself out of her grim thoughts. There would be an honor duel between their Houses as soon as both Houses were able to unload their suits, as that was what honor demanded anytime the two Houses encountered each other. As far as she was concerned it was a stupid rule, but as High Queen she knew that she needed to observe the traditions of her House, one of which was the honor duel with House Cyrene whenever the two deployed on the same battlefield. After some more wandering she found herself back on the bridge, where she saw Ulfric in full armor having a discussion with another Space Marine. She could not see his armor all that well underneath his long black hair, and his thick beard, but from what she could see the armor was quite ornate, and seemed to be quite old. Ulfric turned towards her and said “Ah, High Queen Moira, I was just about to request your presence on the bridge. I would like you to meet Alpha Faolan Gall of the Emperor’s Hounds Space Marines. He and his company will be fighting in this Crusade as well.” Ulfric then turned to speak to Faolan. “This is High Queen Moira of House Valorn, she and her fellow Knights will be fighting alongside us in this Crusade.” Over Faolan’s shoulder Moira could see what looked like the hilt of a relic blade, and he seemed to study her with intense, but kind, eyes. After a moment of eye contact he finally spoke in a formal tone “I greet you High Queen Moira in the name of the Emperor’s Hounds. I am looking forward to fighting alongside you and your kin in this war.” Moira responded in turn “And I greet you Faolan Gall, the blades of me and my siblings are ready if you have need of them.” This comment seemed to please the other Marine, and he gave off a booming belly laugh before responding “I am looking forward to the opportunity my Queen.” Moira then gave him a formal bow before excusing herself and walking briskly towards the quarters that she and her siblings had been given. There was still much that needed to be done.

The Kikkari desert could only be described as sweltering, Moira thought as the stood on a hill overlooking the duel preparations. Standing behind her at a respectful distance was Falkon, the leader of House Valorn’s armsmen, and one of Moira’s best friends in the entire household, besides her siblings. The Space Wolves had launched onto the planet in their Drop Pods and Thunderhawks and had secured a landing zone, purging a small group of feral Orks who had the misfortune to launch an assault on their landing zone. Their attack had been repulsed easily, with no Imperial losses, but it had served to reinforce the point for Moira that they could not be complacent here, that this world was still infested with enemies of Man. She was jolted out of her thoughts by the approach of three armored figures. As the first one approached Moira noted with interest that he was clad in an older pattern void armor, one that had been common back during the Great Crusade, but had grown steadily scarcer as the long years and ravages of war had taken its’ toll on Imperial technology. The man also had a plasma pistol holstered at his hip, and was clenching and unclenching a deactivated power fist. The second figure wore the distinct armor of the Tempestus Scions, with a greatcoat thrown over it. Slung at his back was a hellgun with an underbarrel grenade launcher. At his hip he bore a hellpistol and a combat knife. Moira noted with interest that the third figure was a woman, who was also clad in Stormtrooper plate. She was armed with a flamer and a bolt pistol, and she had a power sword in a sheath attached to her hip. All three of the Scions had on their helmets, and each of them had a variety of grenades and ammo stored away in various pouches on strung on their webbing. Moira glanced towards Falkon, who was looking at the trio with familiarity in his eyes, she would have to question him about how he knew them later, but the fact that he was not reacting to their presence otherwise spoke volumes to her. The first Scion strode a bit further up the hill, gave Moira a shallow bow and said “High Queen Moira I presume?” Moira nodded “I am Tempestor Prime Gallus, and these are my comrades Tempestors Secundus Riley and Castella.” As Gallus gestured to each of them they nodded and offered Moira a shallow bow before resuming their polite silence. Moira returned their bows before turning to regard Gallus. After a moment she responded “You are correct Tempestor, I am High Queen Moira of House Valorn. Thank you for taking time away from your deployment to accept my invitation. I thought it prudent to get to know the men and women that I might be fighting alongside over the coming weeks.” The Tempestor Prime accepted this statement with a nod before replying “It was no problem High Queen, my Scions were nearly done already with their deployment when I received your invitation, so it was little trouble for me to accept your invitation, and I must admit, I was curious to see a duel between Imperial Knights. I have had precious little contact with Knights in the past, so I wanted to observe the coming duel.” Moira allowed herself a small grin before replying “A Knight duel isn’t all that special admittedly, it’s simply a matter of tradition between my House and House Cyrene that whenever we encounter each other on the field of battle an honor duel occurs between our Houses. Neither House can recall the true reason behind the duel, so it has become a matter of pride.” After that the two settled into a slightly more relaxed conversation and they talked for a few more minutes before Moira excused herself and began to trudge back towards the impromptou arena. The other Imperial commanders were beginning to arrive, and she would need to talk to all of them before the duel began. She sighed softly to herself, there were times that she hated being High Queen.

As Moira trudged down the hill towards the arena she noticed a figure clad in red robes approaching her from the bottom of the hill. As the figure got closer Moira was able to deduce that the figure was a Tech-Priest, and was most likely Liza, the leader of the Adeptus Mechanicus in this Crusade. The first thing that Moira noticed about her was her eyes. While they were partially hidden from view by polarized glass lenses, Moira’s keen eyes saw that they were actually organic, and that they were the color of emeralds. The next thing she noticed was Liza’s “hair”, which seemed to consist of braided metal and cable. On most beings such a thing would look disturbing but, somehow, on Liza it seemed strangely beautiful and functional, as if it was meant to be there. Moira noted that most of her other augmetics seemed to share that characteristic. From the beautifully crafted rebreather that covered the lower half of her face, to the elegant metal limbs that had replaced her arms, Liza and her augmentations seemed to be perfectly natural. She seemed to lack the incompleteness that the Tech-Priests of Gaia’s forges seemed to have. She was complete. Moira was jerked out of her reverie when Liza walked straight up to her and offered Moira her hand and said “Greetings High Queen Moira, I am Magos Explorator Liza.” Moira was again taken aback by just how human Liza seemed to act. Other Tech-Priests shunned many of the old human customs that they had left behind with their flesh, deeming them unnecessary and idiotic. She swiftly recovered though, and took Liza’s metal hand in her own and shook it in return, this time noting the fine craftsmanship of the limb, and how smoothly it operated, as if it was still flesh and bone. She then replied “And I greet you Liza, in the name of House Valorn and the Imperial Knights. I am looking forward to working alongside you in this Crusade.” The Magos seemed almost pleased at this last comment, and she turned to look at something and what little of her face that Moira could see seemed to light up in awe, and Moira turned to see her staring at the armored figure of her brother Cassius as he stomped by on his patrol route in his Knight Acheron Vengeance. Moira could easily understand her awe. House Valorn had long had an ironclad contract with the Tech-Priests of Gaia’s Moon, they would provide her House with Knight suits in return for protection for the Moon. The Tech-Priests were able to create a limited number of suits for them each year, but each one created was from patterns that had been first used in the dark days before the Great Crusade. Very few forge worlds had the capability of creating such suits, and House Valorn was fortunate enough to have a contract with one such forge world. Liza turned back to Moira and the two of them talked for a few more minutes, and arrangements were made for the Mechanicus to repair any damages that the House’s Sacristans were unable to repair. In return House Valorn would provide protection for the Mechanicus should they require it. After that Moira continued to walk down the hill, there was still a few more people that she needed to talk to.

She stepped down into the arena proper and looked around. The House Sacristans had done a masterful job of setting up the impomptou arena, and there was plenty of seating around for all of the Imperial representatives to sit down and enjoy the proceedings if they chose to show up. The fighting area was about 15 feet in diameter from one edge to another. This battle would be fought in the ancient tradition of Gaia, with nothing more than cold steel and courage to help a contestant prevail. Then she noticed something unusual amid the crowd of Sacristans. A figure armored in gold armor seemed to flow out from the crowd and begin making her way towards Moira. The first thing she noticed about this figure was the impressive set of wings that seemed to spring out from her armor, and Moira was not sure whether or not they were natural, or if they had been installed onto her armor. The next thing she noticed was that the figure had on a golden mask, which had been carved in the likeness of a beautiful woman. As the figure approached Moira felt a change in the air, almost as if the universe was doing its’ level best to point out that she was different. As the figure drew ever closer Moira noticed that it was actually a woman, and that her legs ended in golden, avian-like cybernetic legs, and that on the ends of her arms she had a set of golden, avian-like claws. The overall picture it rendered was that of a bird of pretty, ever ready to swoop down and attack, and at some primal level this woman unsettled Moira, but she could not pin down exactly why. Finally, the woman stopped a few feet in front of Moira, and removed her mask. Her dark skin was covered in golden tattoos that seemed to spiral up her high cheekbones and then curve up around her eyes. Finally, after giving Moira a second to adjust to her presence she finally spoke “High Queen Moira? I am the Angel, I speak for the Arbiters of Truth.” Moira paused. There had been some whispers amongst the armsmen about the Arbiters, and their so called “Angel”, but Moira had thought them just rumors spread by idle men, but here was proof in the flesh. Recovering swiftly Moira replied “I greet you Angel, and House Valorn welcomes you. I am looking forward to fighting alongside you in this Crusade.” In an instant the Angels’ facial expression changed. She went from being mysterious and aloof, to being excited and happy. It suited her, but Moira still could not shake off the vague sense that there was something odd about this girl. The Angel replied “I thank you for your kind winds High Queen, and I shall take your words back to the High Judge, I feel that I will also enjoy fighting alongside you and your siblings in this Crusade.” At her last words Moira felt shock course through her as she realized that this person knew that the other Knights with her were her siblings. Other than Wolf Lord Ulfric and his men, nobody else in this Crusade had seen any of her siblings in the flesh, they were all currently on patrol in their suits, ensuring that the surrounding area was clear of threats before the duel began. The two continued talking for a few minutes more before the Angel excused herself and began to walk away. As she did Moira noticed a small mechanical bird appear seemingly out of nowhere and land on her shoulder. Just as quickly as the bird appeared, it and the Angel disappeared seamlessly into the crowd and Moira stood there dumbfounded, wondering if she had truly seen either of them.

Just as she was shaking her head and wondering if she had truly seen the Angel, she saw something that made her blood run cold. Something that she had prayed she would not see in this Crusade. She saw Him. It had been many years since Moira had last seen William, and the years since their breakup had been very kind to him. While she looked and felt run down from the stress of running a House and trying to restore her and her family’s honor, William still looked like he had just come from being attended to by his servants. It was that same look that had piqued her interest years ago when she was a teenager. The two of them had met during one of the meetings that had been set up to try and solve the bitter feud that had existed between the two Houses. They had met when they both left the meeting early to get some fresh air, and they had secretly become involved romantically, despite the fact that both of them knew that their respective Houses would never approve of the match, but Moira had loved him anyway. He had been everything that her parents told her to want in a potential suitor. He was kind, polite, a masterful swordsman, and an even better tactician. A bonding between the two of them would have secured the power base of both Houses for generations to come, and she had eagerly awaited the day when they could make their love public. Then out of the blue one day William had told her that it was over with her and refused to answer her calls, leaving her broken. Shortly thereafter her parents, and nearly all of their Knights had fallen in the line of duty. That duel hammer blow had been too much for her, and House Valorn, and her, had retreated from the limelight in order to lick their wounds and grieve. And now he was here. Her blood began to boil, how dare he show his face here in her presence? She suddenly knew what she had to do, and she turned and nearly instantly located her sister Amanda as she was going through her final warm up exercises with her de-activated power sword, seemingly at peace. That peace was shattered when Moira strode up to her. “Yes Sister, what is it?” Moira’s sister asked as she wiped the sweat from her brow. Moira responded a second later “I invoke the Queen’s rite.” As she said this Amanda went dead still. The Queen’s rite was only invoked in a challenge, when the challenger had caused such a grievous harm that the House’s leader decided that only they could settle it with them, rather than leave it to the House champion. Amanda bowed stiffly and responded “As you wish my Queen.” Her eyes burned with unspoken questions, but Moira waved them off brusquely, she did not have time to answer them. She had to meet the other Imperial leaders who were attending. And then the challenge would begin.

Suddenly she felt a presence behind her, and she whirled around with her hand going around the hilt of her saber. As she completed her turn she noticed that she was staring at a golden Aquila on the chest plate of a suit of power armor. Glancing upwards she was treated to the site of a skull-faced helm staring back at her. Just staring at the helmet filled Moira with a sense of dread. As if she was staring Death itself in the face. She paused to take a deep breath. She had nothing to fear from this man. After a moment she said “Chaplain Benturas I presume?” The Marine paused, as if he was taken aback that this woman knew who he was even with his face covered by his helmet. Then he began to laugh, the sound resembled two boulders grinding together, Moira thought idly as the Marine moved to remove his helmet. As he did so Moira took the opportunity to examine him. His hair was jet black, almost as if someone had taken the night sky and used it to dye his hair, but it was shot through with grey strands, indicating that he was older than he appeared. He had a scar across his left eye, as if a blade had narrowly missed taking his eye out. He outwardly projected a gruff appearance, but Moira had the feeling that there was more to him than that. After clipping his helmet to his belt the Chaplain finally responded “Aye, and I presume you are High Queen Moira?” She nodded. After a moment he continued “I will be the representative of my Chapter in this Crusade, so if you wish to talk to my brothers all you need to do is contact me.” She nodded again and then responded “If you wish to talk to me or my kin you may go through my sister Amanda, she is my chosen representative, and my champion in this Crusade.” Moira glanced over her shoulder at Falkon, to see what he thought about this new arrival. Over the years since he had agreed to sign on with House Valorn as an armsmen she had grown to trust his opinion implicitly, and he had become one of her closest confidants in all things. Of course, some had whispered that he must be her consort, for why else would she spend so much time with someone who was not a Noble? That couldn’t be further from the truth; however, for Moira knew that Sera had feelings for Falkon, and she suspected that he returned them. Her poor sister was like an open book sometimes, and the fact that Falkon seemed unaware of Sera’s feelings was baffling to her. She snapped back to reality just in time to see Falkon give her the nod of approval. He obviously trusted this Marine, and if he trusted him, then Moira would to. She continued to talk to the Chaplain for another couple of minutes before he walked off to join his brothers in the stands. He was a gruff man, she could tell that now, and getting him to talk to her was like trying to squeeze water out of a rock, but she had a feeling that was just his way. There was plenty of time to secure an alliance with his Chapter later. Right now she had bigger fish to fry.

“Speaking of bigger fish…” Moira muttered as she watched the Rogue Trader approach her. House Fairfax had a legendary reputation throughout the Imperium, and even on Gaia house Valorn had heard mention of House Fairfax. Edward was upheld as one of the heroes of the Charadon Crusade, and she knew that Falkon admired the man immensely. As he approached trailed by two figures Moira took the opportunity to study him. He appeared to be about 30 Terran years of age, and he was a little taller than her 5’10 at just over 6 feet tall, with dark hair and eyes. He was dressed impeccably in the colors of his House, but Moira could see the strain on his face, and she knew that he must be exhausted. Despite all of that, he still had a friendly demeanor, and she instinctively knew that she could trust him implicitly. She then took a second to study his companions as he stopped a few feet in front of her. One of them appeared to be dressed in the uniform of the Commissariat, but instead of the traditional sash color, he appeared to be wearing a sash in the same color as House Fairfax’s standard uniform. She presumed that this was Commissar Selka, who worked for Edward as part of his team. His fair was a mix of black and grey, and the scowl on his face seemed to be etched into it permanently, and his eyes were the color of ice. She couldn’t really determine his age, he could have been anywhere from 30 to 50 Terran years old, the scarring and general stick-up-the-butt demeanour making guessing his age difficult. Moira then turned her gaze to the final person in the Rogue Trader trio. This one was garbed in deep green robes and, to Moira’s surprise, was actually a woman. Moira couldn’t really make out her features underneath the cowled robe, but both Edward and Selka appeared relaxed around her, so Moira didn’t worry too much about it. As Edward approached he gave Moira a shallow bow and said “High Queen Moira? I am Edward Fairfax, of the Fairfax Dynasty. It is a pleasure to meet you. These are my companions Selka and Angela” As he gestured to each one they each gave Moira a shallow bow before resuming their polite silence as Edward and Moira spoke. By his demeanor Moira knew that he was a man accustomed to intrigue, he wouldn’t be out of place amongst the nobility of her home planet. She found that admirable almost. She returned the bow before softly replying “Yes, |I am Moira, and in the name of House Valorn I greet you. Welcome to the Crusade, if you are in need of Knight support do not fear to ask us, House Valorn is always willing to help out their allies.” This seemed to take Edward back a bit, but he swiftly recovered and replied “I do not feel that House Fairfax would need it, but I thank you for the kind offer.” The two of them talked for a few more minutes before Edward bowed again and took his leave, walking away with his companions. As he walked away Moira sighed. It had been a busy day already, and she still had lots to do.

As she turned around Moira saw a site that she would have never thought possible. A trio of Kroot approached her, seemingly unseen by the Imperials milling around them. Her eyes instinctively locked onto the one in the middle, and some primitive part of her brain told her that this one was the leader. He was about 6 feet tall, but she knew he’d be even taller if he stood upright, he was currently somewhat hunched over, making determining his true height a bit difficult. His companion on the right was a little bit shorter than him, but on his back he had some great wings that at the moment were pressed tightly against his spine. In his hands was a spear, which he carried with the feigned casualness of a seasoned warrior. The third Kroot was a little bit taller than the spear carrier, and also bore wings that were pressed to his back. The three of them paused a few feet in front of Moira and finally the one who Moira had identified as their leader strode forward and spoke. “Greetings, I am Shaper Ta’lok, and these are my companions Kai’lo and Lo’kai.” As he gestured to each of them they each gave Moira a sort of respectful nod before resuming their vigil. The two other Kroot seemed to be constantly scanning for trouble, and were keeping a wary on the eye Imperials who were still milling around them. Moira waited till they had finished their scan before responding “I greet you Ta’lok, I am High Queen Moira of the Imperial Knight House Valorn. How may I help you?” Moira knew very little about the Kroot, besides the propaganda, but she did know that Shapers were typically the leaders, so she was careful to be respectful to this one. You never knew when you might have need of them, so angering them would be a foolish move she knew. Ta’lok glanced towards the massive armored form of her brother as he stomped around the perimeter of the arena, and then he turned back to her and responded “Your fighting suits are impressive High Queen, a bit too loud for my tastes, but impressive nevertheless. I was hired to protect the Mechanicus that are aligned with that Rogue Trader, so maybe we will be seeing more of each other in the future.” “Maybe,” Moira replied “I am certainly looking forward to it in any case.” Ta’lok gave her a bark of laughter before he and his companions seemed to disappear into the crowd. Moira sighed as they disappeared, this day certainly wasn’t boring by any stretch of the imagination.


It was finally time for the duel to begin, and the assembled Imperials (and xenos) in the stands were eagerly anticipating the coming fight. William had already taken position at his end of the arena and was idly swinging his sword around, warming up for the fight. The champion of House Valorn had yet to make their appearance in the ring, and everyone was eagerly anticipating Amanda’s arrival, but when the hooded figure stepped into the ring and removed her hood, everyone was surprised to see Moira’s face appear. None more so than William, who visibly paled at the sight of his former flame.

Sera Valorn was bored. She and her brother Cassius had been patrolling around the perimeter that had been set up around the arena for hours now. Beyond a small Ork party that had been easily crushed there had been no sign of enemy activity for hours. She sighed, this could have been done fairly easily by their armsmen, but Moira had insisted that it should be done by the Scions in their Knight Suits. A show of force, and a display that told the others that House Valorn may have suffered grievously, but that they were still a force to be reckoned with. Now, Sera had little patience for most political matters, but she had to admit that her sister’s logic in this case made some sense. House Cyrene in particular had been calling for years now for the dissolution of their House, for their strength had been sorely depleted. At that thought Sera’s lip curled a bit, no doubt Cyrene wanted them gone so their lands could be taken with ease. She was jolted out of her thoughts by a flash of emerald light on a hill overlooking the arena. What appeared out of that flash of light was a bewildering sight. A metallic figure strolled out of the light with what looked like a folding lawn chair under it’s arm. It set the chair up on the hill, complete with a little umbrella, and sat down to watch the duel. Sera activated the zoom function on her optics and when she saw who the trespasser was her blood began to boil. It was a Necron Overlord, who was garbed quite strangely. He had the ornate armor that was typical to his type, but overlaid on top of it was a strange looking shirt, with palm trees and flowers on it. As if that wasn’t baffling enough, the Necron seemed to be sipping a drink while he was watching the proceedings. And somehow, he hadn’t noticed the giant metal figure staring at him. Extremely confused, but not one to waste an opportunity, Sera charged at the figure with weapons at the ready. Just as she got close, she suddenly had an idea, and brought her suit’s right leg back and aimed at the Necron…..

The duel was set to begin, and both combatants were at their starting positions with their weapons in the ready position, when they heard a faint screaming over the wind. Just as they and the audience began to look for the source of the disturbance, they saw the remnants of a metallic figure slam into the cliff face overlooking the arena. Just as he impacted, and stuck into the wall, they all heard a triumphant cry on the vox

GOAALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL!


William’s shock only seemed to deepen as he alternated between staring at the crushed metal corpse embedded into the nearby cliff, and the coldly beautiful face of his former flame. He didn’t have long to ponder this turn of events when Amanda Valorn appeared on the stage overlooking the arena and announced “Welcome fellow servants of the Imperium. It is tradition between my House and House Cyrene to have an honor duel whenever we deploy on the same battlefield, and that is what is happening today. The fight is with de-activated power swords, and the first fighter to score three “lethal” blows will be declared the winner.”
As Amanda continued to explain the rules, Moira noticed with grim satisfaction that all of the blood had drained from William’s face. He obviously had not been prepared for this turn of events, and he just stared at her as Moira took her position across from him. She could vaguely hear Amanda announce the start of the match, and then she launched herself at William, launching a flurry of sword blows as she did so. He managed to parry most of the blows, but one of them slipped past his guard and hit him in the ribs, winding him. In the background she could hear her sister announce one lethal blow for her, but it rapidly faded into a fog, and all she could see is the one who had cut her so deeply. The two of them exchanged blows for several more minutes, with Moira managing to land another lethal blow on William, for none in return. Her furious assault and seemingly limitless energy reserve forced him to constantly be on the defensive, it was an advantage that Moira had no intention of giving up. He also seemed to still be in a state of shock, and she noticed several opportunities for him to launch a blow of his own, but he never seemed to take them. All of the fight had left him upon seeing Moira’s face again for the first time in years. Then, after several minutes of fighting, Moira noticed another opening, William seemed to be favoring his left side, leaving his right side open for an attack. An opening she intended to exploit. She ducked under his guard and shoulder barged him onto the ground, and after hitting the ground he managed to look up just in time to see the blade under his chin. Moira had won, scoring three lethal blows to William’s none, and the crowd went into an uproar. After letting the crowd cheer for a little, Moira promptly turned on her heel and walked away, leaving William dazed and confused in the dust on the arena floor
Moira sat down on the cot that had been set up for her in the camp that she and her siblings shared with the Space Wolves. She had finally gotten her revenge on William, and humiliated House Cyrene in the process, she should feel pleased with herself, but she didn’t. Instead, she felt no better than she had before the duel had even occurred, and she didn’t understand why. Hadn’t she dreamed of getting back at him for crushing her heart and humiliating her? She sighed and buried her heads in her hands, she wasn’t going to deal with her traitorous feelings right now, and she flopped over on the cot, and drew the blanket up to her chin and fell asleep. Tomorrow, she would go to war, and she would drown her confusion in the blood of the enemies of Man.



Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/03/16 04:31:56


Post by: Kharne the Befriender


===== The Agrona=====

Taranis sat in his chambers on his Battle Barge, the Agrona, and looked out the window. He peered for hours into the outer darkness that had sheltered them for the last week while they had destroyed the resistance of a renegade colony. They had slaughtered 9 billion souls to purge their taint. They were not the enemy he was hoping to find, but he would gladly carve a bloody path through the galaxy to find the Eldar that damned him to silence. He removed his helmet reluctantly and slowly traced his hand over the marred flesh that was his throat. He stood and looked into his mirror, he looked over every scar on his face and recalled every battle. He looked at the tattoos covering his body and remembered the slaughter they provided. His gaze finally fixed on his own black eyes, they matched the robes he was wearing, both a reminder of what lay outside the window. There was a sudden wrap on the door, Taranis put his helmet back on before moving to the door and opening it. A serf was standing their and eyeing Taranis almost as if he were challenging him. The serf spoke with more resolve than most, “My Lord, there is an astropathic message for you.” The serf’s resolve seemed to diminish over the next few words, “It is from Lord Tyberos, my Lord.” Taranis looked the serf in the eyes and started to communicate with him via psychic connection. “I shall head to the astropath, have Exitar meet me there.” His voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere and it was soft, much softer than a normal marine. Such was an affliction of the Carcharodons. Taranis made his way to the ship’s astropath, curious to see why Tyberos had contacted them, perhaps to congratulate them for the slaughter? He walked through the door and was met with the enchained psyker already staring at him. He preferred to speak with him, he was accustomed to psychic communication. “Tyberos sent a message?” “Yes Lord Taranis, that is correct.” “What did he say?” “He has good news, the Eldar of Craftworld Iybraesil and their Farseer leader have been spotted in a small system.” Taranis’ blood boiled and his brow furrowed at the words. “It is the Crion System, he has given you his blessing to hunt and slaughter them.” The door leading to the room opened and in strode a hulking brute of a man, Exitar, the company’s Chaplain. “What is it Taranis?” Taranis turned and looked Exitar in the eyes, their minds becoming one, “Tyberos has sent us a message. the Eldar of Iybraesil and the Farseer witch have been spotted. I want you to rally the men, stir their anger so we may slaughter them.” “Yes, my Lord…” and with that, Exitar turned and starting singing litanies of slaughter. Taranis headed to the bridge and set a course for the Crion system. They would wait in the dark until they found conflict ripe for slaughter.

=====The Agrona, Company Chapel=====

Exitar stood in front have his gathered brothers adorned in their mismatched armors covered in assorted exotic line works, each brother holding some form of bone talisman in worship to the Emperor. Exitar began, his speech being broadcasted to the fleet, “We have heard information, information that bears good fruit! We have located the Eldar of Old! And not just Xenos, there is Chaos taint here as well! We will return from the outer darkness, we shall bring our endless voyage to them and ravage the Traitors, the Aliens, and the Renegade without mercy and harrow them from their positions of strength! They will know fear and they will feel our rage as we descend upon them! We will strike from the depths and we will devour them with rending maws! We are the Void Sharks and there, will, be, slaughter.” By the time his speech was finished his fellow brothers were trembling with rage, their raw anger fueling their strength. Exitar held up the jaws of a long forgotten predator, one that would soon be remembered, “TO WAR, TO SLAUGHTER, FOR TYBEROS, FOR THE EMPEROR!” The following roar was deafening, and the ensuing feast was gorey.

=====Bridge, The Agrona=====

Taranis sat in his chair and closed his eyes. He could feel the anger surging through the surrounding void, he could feel the frigid rage his fellow brothers exuded, but best of all he could feel their bloodlust. He yearned for slaughter, for bloodshed. He craved to see the enemies of the Imperium dead, bleeding, gorey. He hungered to kill, to dismember, to be so outnumbered that he could stand victorious over a pile of gore, and feast upon it. He felt his tongue course over his serrated and pointed teeth. He spoke to the other members of the bridge, “Alert the fleet, we move now. The slaughter is nigh.”

There were monsters in the void


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/03/16 04:45:18


Post by: Tactical_Spam


Deep in the heart of Forgeworld Pollux, amidst its assembly lines of Daemon engines and war machines that fueled the Crusades against the Omnisiah, was a Heretek by the name of Bjumn Iron Heart, Lord of the Shatter Engines. He was ruthless in his art of forging the twisted and vile creatures of Pollux. There was no other that could quite match his craftsmanship or fill his creations with the amount of hate they manifested on the battle-fields against the Imperium. It is said that he tested the machines by having them butcher masses of unarmed slaves who proved inept in the forges or who uttered the term "Squat" in reference to Bjumn's diminutive size. He could strike fear into the hearts of a lesser mortal with a single glance then crush their morale entirely with the presence of one of his demented works.

"The shipment of salvage from Grimdi has arrived late, Lord Iron Heart... 5 years late," a servo-skull over Bjumn's shoulder hissed, its vox unit screeching and warbling the longer it spoke. Bjumn waved the skull away and motioned the Ogryn slaves beneath him to carry his heavy throne forward down the assembly line. The skull reappeared on his other side and continued, "The smuggler demands he be paid again. He says his endeavors were not without consequence."

"Tell the fool I am done with his games. Have him drop the shipment off in the drydocks and leave," the Heretek spat, his thick beard catching most of his spittle. He swatted the skull away once more. The skull, as persistent and thick headed as its creator, Iron Heart, floated up in front of him and he motioned his throne slaves to stop.

"I told him, Lord, but he insists. He is currently waiting in your inner sanctum."

The Heretek slammed his fist down into the arm of his throne and cursed. He slid down from his throne and proceeded to his inner sanctum. Behind a set of very intricate locks that took what seemed like ages to open, was a finely dressed ship captain or whatever finely dressed meant when you dealt with Chaos. Bjumn approached the man with a closed fist, curses and a deluge of threats. The man was unfazed, in fact he was so unfazed, he didn't even move. Bjumn waved his hand in front of the captain's face so he would look down at the Heretek, but his effort was in vain. It was only after a couple second that he took into account how ill the man looked. He prodded the captain with a finger curiously and in an immediate reaction, the man fell to his knees and started profusely vomiting. Bjumn jumped back slightly at the somewhat repulsive act. It would seem that the captain could not stop and didn't stop till he threw up several internal organs, literally, at which point, he fell face first into his pool of bile. What Bjumn failed to notice was the figure behind the captain. The figure was draped in an all black cloak, torn and molded. His hunched back was a nest of short spines that protruded from two massive beatle-like wings. The face of the creature, hidden behind the unnatural shadows of its cloak, was home to two glossy eyes the size of frags and a gapping maw that carried the stench of all things rotted and decayed.

"Hello, Bjumn Iron Heart, I believe you have a debt my master can no longer overlook," the creature spoke, its voice like rolling thunder if rolling thunder had phlegm in its throat. The creature held out a pale, blistered and infected hand to the Heretek.

"I owe the Plague god nothing, daemon. Be gone from this realm or I shall remove you. I do not take kindly to these acts," Bjumn said, clearly more worried that his ornate mosaic floor was covered in vomit.

"No, you don't, you owe Ewrhyt'eikl something that doesn't belong to you. A book perhaps," the daemon chuckled wetly. Drool from its sizable maw splattered on the floor and started burning acidly through the stone. Bjumn froze up at the name and ran to the door. He unfastened all the complicated locks and wards as the plague daemon approached him at a leisurely pace. When the door was open and the daemon was nearly pressed up against Bjumn, the Heretek stumbled out only to come face to face with yet another daemon. This one was taller than the other and wore its black cloak as a waist cape though instead of emphasizing rot, the waist cape was burnt and torn from war. This daemon was red, like the skin of an apple or a human without skin. Its face, clearly more visible than it's comrades, was surprisingly and vaguely feminine for a daemon Bjumn assumed to be of Khorne. Two great bovine horns sprouted from its temples and a large brass ring was affixed in the nostrils of the daemon. To starkly contrast the face, the body of the daemon, both surprisingly and unsurprisingly, was nothing but a mass of muscles and baroque armour which would have looked right at home on a Bloodthirster. The red daemonette stepped forward, grabbed Bjumn by the beard and held him up so he could look into the wonton hatred that filled the daemon's eyes.

"We grow sick of your games, Heretek, where is the book?" the red daemonette demanded the ironically fear-stricken Bjumn. Blisters broke out on his face when the daemonette spoke like they would if you stood too close to a flame.

"What book?" Bjumn questioned hastily before the daemonette ended his existence on the spot.

"The Grimoire of True names, fool! You have it!"

"I-I do not know what you speak of-"

"He knows... I have found the book," a third voice chimed in. From the corner of his eye and right before he was devoured by the angry daemonette, Bjumn saw a silver Chaos Astartes with Bjumn's Grimoire of True names in his grasp. It had taken a life time to acquire that text and it was gone in an instant, just like Bjumn's life.

* * *

"They found it, my Lord... They found your book," a voice echoed through the ruins of a Librarium. A daemon prince sat atop a throne, musing over something he say in a crystal sphere he held in one of his three hands. It had been so long since the daemon prince heard that familiar voice.

"Just as I planned," the mouth that split the daemon prince's chest diagonally grumbled, "It is time for the Moon to wax."


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/03/16 23:57:05


Post by: 2BlackJack1


The grot scampered as fast as its legs could carry it, desperately holding on to the bag of teef in its weedy fingers. Behind the grot came thundering footsteps, and the howl of the red beast was not long after. The gretchin kept sprinting, ducking under beams of wood and bounding over obstacles.

Just a few more feet, and it'd be free. The grot smiled as it ran, knowing it had almost escaped the beast. It saw the hole in the wall, big enough for the grot, but too big for the squig behind him. The greenskinned creature leaped forwards, and barely made it into his hidey hole when he heard the clamp of jaws and the snarl of a squig behind him.

The grot lie on the ground, catching his breath, and tried to ignore the sound of the squig trying to claw its way in.

Outside of the grot's hiding place came the collective groan of a dozen orks. They each in turn forked over a bag of their own to a grinning ork with a cigar hanging out of his mouth. "My squig's too slow. Ize gotta git a betta one" one ork grumbled.

"Or me grotz just too fast for ya, eh? You always made your squigs too fat, anyway." The winning ork replied, shaking one particularly fat bag of teef next to his ear.

Every conversation stopped in an instant when a set of doors slid open. A massive ork walked in, flanked by two flash gitz. The warboss carried a shoota-scorcha in one hand, and a looted thunda hammer in the other. "Weze got ourselves a WAAAAGH" the ork, Gorgrim BadToof, bellowed. The room echoed the cry, and began stamping hands, hilts, and boots onto the tables and floor.

"Shut up, ya gitz! I ain't done yet. Crion's da planet, an' I hear dat dey got some nice, flashy tech. I don't know about you boyz, but the humiez are wasting the whole Morking lot of it, an' it's up to us to rekwusishin it all."

Some of the more drunken or foolhardy orks began to chant "Loot! Loot! Loot!" while laughing and stamping their feet again. Gorgrim turned to leave, letting the orks keep themselves busy with their drunken chants and gambling. The warboss had 'uvva fings' to attend to.


Mad Dok Glotzinga looked down at the ork. It was lying still on a metal slab, unconscious and lost to the world. It was just what Glotzinga wanted. Splitting a toothy grin, the dok reached for a circular saw. Glotzinga hummed to himself as he implanted the tool into the ork's right arm. Or rather, where its right arm should have been. Now it was just an open wound, but the dok would make sure it would be nothing but that once the operation was over.

"Stinkin' bug pits. Dey always take da limbs." Glotzinga smiled again. "An' leave more improvements for me to make."

After several minutes, the dok looked down at his patient, taking in his handiwork. The ork now had the saw replacing his forearm, with a span of metal and wires making up the rest of its arm. Before Glotzinga could find another region of the ork needing improvement, he heard the boom of an explosion, and the rows of tools and bionics shook with its force. The dok looked around in confusion, and heard the scrabble of talons on metal in the distance.

Glotzinga reached for his whirlagig, a kustom made axe that ended in a buzz saw rather than any stationary, boring blade. Just as he palmed the button, and the blade buzzed in excitement, the dok saw two hormagaunts leap into the room. "WAAAAGH" the dok cried, and swung his blade into one hormagaunt, who used one limb to block the blow. The whirlagig cut through it, and Glotzinga stabbed a scalpel into the beast's gaping maw, stabbing right through its spine. The tyranid went limp, and the dok turned to the other hormagaunt.

It was in the process of ripping the throat out of the ork, and the whirlagig parted the tyranid's head from its body while it gorged on the meal. Shoving the expired body off of the ork, the dok looked down at his patient. "Ficksable, hard, but ficksable." Wrapping a rag around the orks throat to stop the incessant bleeding, Glotzinga began looking for anything to close the wound.

"Stapler, wire, where is da Morking stuff?" He grumbled, digging through piles of tools. While the dok looked for anything he could use, the sound of boots clanking against the floor came from behind him.

"Glotzinga," Gorgrim said, "Da nidz get out, an' you're still lookin' for a way ta fix da lad? We lost da Norn Queen and all" Gorgrim shook his head, not sure if he'd ever understand the mad dok.

"Not fix. No. Improve." The dok muttered, still looking for his tools. Gorgrim shook his head; Glotzinga was one of the few orks able to not give the warboss a straight answer without getting hit in the head for it. It never payed to anger your medic after all. Not when he'd be inclined to replace the wrong limb on a happy note.

"Whateva. Just, don't die from da nids. I'll get anuva dok ta fix you so I'll kill you for it." Gorgrim warned, and left the dok's office to hunt down any remaining tyranids aboard his ship.

In spite of it all, the warboss grinned. The tyranids may have escaped, ending the ork's endless sport, but they were heading to the biggest fight of the sector, where they could loot and kill as many enemies as they could possibly hope for.

"Besides," Gorgrim rumbled, "Da bugs will just get bigga an' stronga. Den we'll krump 'em all over again."


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/03/17 01:36:25


Post by: EvergreenArcher


Brace
The hive prepared for entry into orbit. They had been patiently waiting for this moment. The hive can always wait. The space hulk descended into the atmosphere. The swarm braced for impact. With a loud boom, the brood landed on Crion. A lictor slowly moved from the crash.
Search
9 more lictors followed it. The hive did not have many lictors to spare. All were lost when the greenskins attacked. Not many had been remade. The lictors split up and moved out into the nearby jungle. The hive wanted to know what was nearby. They had found nothing of use for quite some time. A lictor moved through some underbrush silently. Nothing could have heard it. That was the moment that the length of hidden rope pulled tight around the lictor's feet. With quick efficiency, the rope lifted the lictor into the air to swing around with no ability to get back down. Similar traps were sprung on the other lictors. As one of the lictors swung around, futilely trying to get itself down, a band of orks approached. A nob walked up and began to laugh inches from the lictor's scything talons.
"Youz dumma den da grotz back at da fortress! I bet youz kant even kill me in a propa fight!" The nob said.
The lictor again tried to break free to kill this biomass.
"KoreGog da Bloody 'ill be eatin good ta night!" With that, the nob crouched under the range of the lictor's talons and pulped the lictor's head in.
RETALIATION
The hive tyrant roared in anger and bloodlust at the hive mind's response. He flexed his massive scything talons and test fired his venom cannons.
In time, such a thing will happen.
Patience
The hive tyrant responded instantly. It's muscles relaxed and the bio-weapons hung limp at his sides. It looked almost asleep for a bio-form of the swarm.

As this happened, similar occurrences continued to happen to the other lictors until all that remained was their pheromone trails and one final lictor. It was last on the list for the orks to kill. However, unlike the others, it's rope was loose.
Escape
The lictor struggled for a few minutes, until the scything talons slid straight through the rope holding it in place. It immediately camouflaged itself and fled back to the hive. While retreating into the shadows, an ork slugga fired off a glancing hit upon the lictor with its bolt pistol. The shot impacted and detonated on the side of the lictor causing a rent in the lictor's carapace. The blow would not heal easily. It would have to be reclaimed if it were to heal. There was no time for that though. The lictor must be put to use. The hive will remember these orks as well as Waaagh! BadToof. The hive began to dislike all orks. They were biomass, but they required much to kill. The hive will begin to grow here. The hive can begin to consume these lush jungles. The hive will become strong.
Long live the hive.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/03/17 05:18:53


Post by: Sgt. Vanden


Chaplain Iodius stalked through the sand, well, more like blundered as soflty as he could. Captain Ceasar was to his left, silent as the wind, and moved with such speed it surprised Iodius. Intel had come in late the night before last, one of Ceasar’s scouts managed upon a camp of orks, not like the ferals they had encountered previously, but storm boys. Colouration indicated they were a part of the Blood Axe clan. Less than two hundred metres from the encampment now. The snipers were in place, and the ‘Lex Calisum’ was ready to deploy drop pods, and his other marines were in position. They were out in the open now, the teal of their armour stood out against the yellow sand of the desert, it was only a matter of time before they were found, and best attack whilst they still had the element of surprise. He sent a signal from his vox onto the bridge of the ‘Lex’.
“Understood Brother-Chaplain, have fun down there.” Responded Admiral Lukas (Cant remember his last name and will update it when I get home). He was a good man, that Lukas. Honest, blunt, kind hearted and very, very humourous.
“COMMENCE THE ATTACK BROTHERS! IN THE EMPERORS NAME!” Iodius sprang up and began sprinting towards the orks, who looked quite bewildered. The regained their posture terrifyingly fast, and called back with a warshout of their own.
“WAAAGGGHHH! LETS GET EM BOYS! LETS GIT US SOME MORE TEEF TA SHOW DA KERNAL!” With that, the distinct ‘Whoosh’ of their jump-packs roared to life. The battle was joined. Accurate sniper fire from the scouts killed whatever nobs were in sight, the rest either ducking into cover or firing up their own jump-packs. Iodius vaulted a crude built barricade and smashed his crozius into the face of the nearest ork, crushing it to almost nothing. Captain Ceasar stayed back and fired unfazed into the mass of green that began encircling the marines. Each shot of his was a kill shot. A space marine fell to his knees as the top half of his torso was removed from the rest of his body. Iodius turned and saw his killer, A large ork, undoubtedly a nob of some rank, armed with a massive two-handed axe. Iodius raised his arm and shot him with his bolt pistol, the bolt bounced of his armoured jaw, and seemed only to anger the ork even more.
“’UMIE, YOU GOTS SOME NERVE SHOWING YER FACES ERE! TOO BAD YA WONT BE ABLE TA DO IT AGAIN!” With that, the ork lunged at Iodius, who barely managed to shift to the side to avoid the large axe. He retaliated with a bone shattering blow to the orks back, driving it to its knees. This blow would’ve been enough to shatter the spine of a space marine, and yet the ork turned and slammed Iodius into the ground.
“NOT SO TUFF NOW ARE YA? LEZ SEE HOW YOU FIGHT WIT YER GUTS ON DA GROUND!” The ork pushed his chainaxe up to Iodius’s stomach, and he felt the rotating blades bite deep through the armour. Iodius clenched his teeth, soon, he’d be sawn in half, and there was very little he could do about it. The orks strength was bewildering, and there was no way Iodius could throw him off. He drew back his head as much as he could and delivered a thunderous headbutt to the orks face. Several golden teeth flew out of the orks mouth. He drooled a little bit of blood. Iodius took the opportunity to push the ork off of him, and stumbled backwards several paces. The ork made to go at him again, but a shot that ricocheted from his shoulder dissuaded him. Captain Ceasar had Iodius’s back, and the ork turned and ran with the rest of his orks. But he stopped after a while and turned.
“DIS AINT OVER, ‘UMIE! WHEN DA KERNAL FINDS YOU YER GITS ARE GONNA BE SCRAPPED!” He shouted before turning and running off. Iodius raised his arm once again, but his vision went cloudy before he could shoot the ork. He looked down to see the ork had done what he said he would do, Iodius’s intestines were hanging out of the bleeding gash in his midriff.
“Oh bugger…” Captain Ceasar reached Iodius and was surprised to see his condition.
“Ork get you good Brother? I think you might be getting too old for this…” He joked, whilst trying to shove the wounded chaplains intestines back into his stomach
“Say that again and I shall have your tongue Captain.” His anger was raising, and even though Ceasar was his closest friend in the chapter, he still could no withhold his anger to being beat by an ork. “Where are the fallen? I shall commence the rites for them”

He was shown where they were and he began initiating the rites. Six dead. Six too many. Their gene-seed were harvested by the one remaining apothecary, and the ork bodies were being piled in the centre of the camp. A total of twenty three orks had been killed, two nobs in that group. An estimated seven others got away, with the nob Iodius had fought. Iodius turned to go back to the thunderhawk to return back to camp, but he stopped midway. He saw it in the corner of his eye, a black figure, seemingly clad in power armour, but with a single, insanely glowing red eye. He tried focusing on it but it disappeared before he could get a proper look at it. He would cleanse himself of this memory when he got back, for he had a feeling it was not of this world, or any other…


Spoiler:
Got a minor victory for finding and eredicating orks around my deployment (Namrex Dunes).



Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/03/17 09:27:00


Post by: chazz huggins


The Black Oath entered Crion Space the inquisitorial vessel was built for speed and stealth as such it sacrificed much of the impressive arsenal other warships boasted still though it was far from defenseless.

Inquisitor Garrett Randal gathered his commanders in his war room, a bay window framed a sea of stars with the world of Crion at its center, its terraformed moon of Luna Epsilon waning behind the agri-world. The most intimidating presence was that of Paladin Utilitarius. His massive terminator armor blessed by the power of the Aegis made him by far the biggest thing in the room especially as his plate forbid him from sitting. His helmet magnetically clung to his hip. His face was grizzled and head shaven. To the Paladin’s left was another of his brothers Justicar Freeman of Strike Squad Shogun. Brother Freeman too wore his helm at his hip. The youthful marine had mahogany skin and his hair kept in a short Mohawk. The Astartes face was far less grim than that of the paladin and of his captain. Captain Athenar as his brothers had his helmet at his side but his head was covered by a psychic hood, with wires interfacing into his artificer armor. The four humans in the room while dwarfed by the trio of Astartes were not to be trifled with. Captain Amanda Kid a former Sargent in the Mordian Iron Guard was the commander of Randall’s elite Inquisitorial Storm Troopers her skin was dark and her short black hair was shaven on one side of her head. Warden Tully Hoffman was the overseer of 4892nd penal legion, the arbitrator held his helmet in the crook of his arm his short cropped hair had greyed and his left eye replaced by a bionic implant after an encounter with an unruly prisoner. Commissar Jethro Alenko, a dashing young commissar only on his own for the past five years wore his freshly laundered uniform with his sword sheathed at his hip. Lastly at the head of the table was the inquisitor Garrett Randal. The Inquisitor wore a suit of carapace armor and a tattered black long coat.

The retinue of humans and Grey knights gathered around a finely crafted table, at the center of the table was a holographic projector that emitted the glowing orb that was Crion. Randal spoke “As you are all aware this is Crion. Until now Crion has been a relatively peaceful world, however that is no longer the case. Approximately six terran months ago Crion fell out of contact, we recently uncovered a distress signal from the planetary Governor.” Randal operated the interface installed into the table with his gloved hands.

“(static) This is Lord Governor (static) Payne of Crion. We are under attack, (static) orks unifying. (static) separatist scum. (static) Heretics. We are desperate our PDF is incapable of defending against all these threats. Any Imperial forces in the area we beg of you to come to our aid. Coordinates follow”

Randal spoke allowing the governor’s words a moment to take hold in his lieutenant’s minds. “More is at stake here than just one world. Crion produces food for dozens of other worlds in this sector if we lose Crion we risk losing this entire sector to starvation.” Captain Kid spoke “Are we first on scene?” Randall replied “Negative several other Imperials have arrived.” Alenko asked “Who are we dealing with.” Athenar answered for Randall “Reports suggest several chapters of Astartes, two Imperial Knight houses, and a regiment of Scions.” Brother Freeman’s curiosity was peaked at word of other chapters. “What chapters?” Randall answered “The sons of Russ are the most notorious of them. But several successor chapters also take the field, The Emperor’s Hounds, Charcarodons, and Arbiters of Truth.” Alenko knew of the fallen order he felt that no deed could repay their betrayal in the Chardon crusade. Utilitarius scoffed “The swine of Fenris takes the field great.” Warden Hoffman changed the subject “Where will we be deploying my Lord.” Randall replied “We need to speak to this Governor Payne and figure out what exactly plagues Crion, but for now we will be deploying here.” The holo-globe spun to the region known Eynov. Randall continued “We’ll be far from the rest of the Imperials. We’ll be keeping a low profile for now.” Randall looked over to where Alenko and Kid sat “However I want to know exactly who we are dealing with.” Randall pressed the interface again and Crion disappeared and Luna Maximus took its place. Randall continued to speak “Many of our Imperial friends are gathering here in the Kikkari desert for some sort of honor duel between the two knight houses. I’m sending Alenko and Kid to do some recon. You will be disguised as local PDF commanders, find out what you can.” Kid and Alenko pounded their fists to their chests in unison. Randall looked to the rest of his council and spoke “As for the rest of you make ready, planet fall happens in eight hours. Dismissed”

Shortly before the Valorn/Cyrene duel

Commissar Alenko smoothed out a wrinkle in his new olive drab uniform. He was disguised as Commander Jorgan Lafarv of the Luna Epsilon PDF. Captain kid wore a similar uniform only marked as a lieutenant and went under the alias of Ida Vanger. They knew near nothing of Luna Epsilon but they had hoped their forged papers would get them out of any trouble they may come across, plus with so many prestigious commanders of fame and infamy few would take note of a couple of PDF dregs. Kid spoke with a voice full of cynicism “Is this a war or a carnival.” Alenko grinned “I’ve never seen a carnival with dueling titans.” Kid shook her head “You realize that the duel is going to be on foot.” Alenko frowned and spoke with disappointment “Aww really I was excited for…” Alenko stopped mid sentence and nudged for Kid’s attention he pointed over at an Astartes, his armor adorned with furs and runes. Kid pulled the data pad and stealthily captured an image of the wolf lord. Kid ran the image through the Inquisitorial database and in a few seconds the bio of Wolf Lord Ulfric Stormclaw appeared. Kid read “Ulfric Stormclaw of the 9th great company of the vlka fenryka.” Kid handed Alenko the data pad, the commissar quickly skimmed over the long list of the wolf lord’s accomplishments and spoke “Impressive.” Alenko handed the data-pad to Kid and the two moved on.

Captain Kid scanned Tech Priestess Liza and quickly read about her forgeworld. But in the distance a carapace clad figure caught Commissar Alenko’s eye and evoked a hated memory in the commissar’s mind. kid saw the rage burn in Alenko’s eyes, she asked “What crawled up your ass.” The Commissar didn’t respond. Kid looked over to the scions and held up the data pad to scan the soldier but Alenko caught her arm. “Don’t bother whatever you find on there will be a lie.” Kid shook him off and spoke “What’s wrong with you, who are they.” With a sigh Alenko spoke “That’s Tempestor Prime Gallus and his brigade of bastards. Traitors in the Chardon Crusade.” Kid took a scan of the Void armor clad Scion and read “Tempestor Prime Gallus, says here he was a hero of the crusade, given the Adamentium wings of Valor, and the Blood Pendant of Supreme Services.” Alenko spat “Awarded to him by Lord General Narisa the queen of traitors.” Kid spoke she had little sympathy for traitors as she’s had men under her own command betray her, none survived such heresy “I know how you feel Jethro, but we aren’t here for them focus.” Alenko shook off his rage and spoke “Right apologies, let’s go find our seats the duel should be starting.”

Alenko and Kid watch as Queen Moira Valorn thoroughly trounced her opponent. Alenko had to fight the urge to laugh, though he realized he shouldn’t as he to had been humiliated by a women knight in a duel before. Kid observed the duel she noticed that there was something personal between the two combatants.

Once the duel was over the crowds began dispersing. Commissar Garth had a grin on his face as he and Ed walked to their transport. The Commissar laughed “That was a good fight.” The captain replied “Really you think so, I thought it was rather painful to watch one man humiliated so thoroughly.” Garth laughed “That’s what I loved about I love the look on a person’s face when…” Garth was interrupted when a rude passerby bumped into him with his shoulder. The Commissar stumbled a step backwards, rage took hold of the Commissar when he shouted “Watch where your going you fething pile of….” Again the Commissar was cut short. Edward recognized the unmistakable face of Commissar Jethro Alenko. Jethro spoke attempting his best at a Crionian accent “Sorry about that mate, didn’t mean to get all up in your business.” Kid grabbed Alenko by the arm and hurried him along. But Garth… Garth just stood there his face gone pale. Edward noticed something was wrong. “What’s wrong Garth you look like you just saw a ghost.” Garth refocused himself not hearing what was said to him “What, I’m... I’m fine.” Ed scowled “Ed you’re a gak liar now tell me what’s wrong. The Commissar spoke "Ghosts of the unborn. I’ll tell you more when we’re not here.” Edward shrugged “Fine but you will tell me what’s wrong.”

Alenko and Kid returned to their Valkyrie transport. As they entered the transport the Captain raised a brow “Sorry about that mate?” Alenko laughed “Its called staying in character.” The inquisitorial storm trooper laughed as the gunship took off. They had scanned every major commander, now the Inquisition knew exactly who they shared this world with.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/03/17 10:15:18


Post by: Ezra Tyrius


High above the squabbling menials working tirelessly in the command bridge of the Omnia Cadunt sat a statue, cast in black and gold and silver, dimly lit by the candles adorning its throne. The statue’s form was crude, lined with spikes and horns, leering daemonic faces etched unto its surface, whose eyes seemed to glow malevolently at those foolish enough to rest their gaze upon them. Atop the statue’s skull, a top-knot raised itself up towards the sky, ending in a bright red plume. A scar, a cut as deep as a ravine, traversed its ashen face diagonally from its right cheek to its left eye.

Kusun Zhaqar looked over his crew, his features inscrutable, his eyes glimmering softly in the candlelight. He scowled inwardly at the sight of the mortals below, their pathetic, weak bodies straining to perform even the petty tasks they had been handed. They huddled together, clutching dataslates, congregating and dispersing like a school of fish across the bridge as they worked the intricate machinery of the ancient vessel that was carrying them through the Warp.

They were nearing their destination, Kusun could feel it. Soon, they would arrive near Crion, an agricultural world in service to the Corpse Emperor. A planet unworthy of his attention, and had he not been ordered to come here for a greater purpose it would have received nothing more than a single payload of cyclonic torpedoes from him.

Unfortunately, his target had set its eyes on the world, which meant that he must do as well. Kusun gritted his teeth. His mission nagged at the edge of his mind, a sullen reminder of the privileges he had lost by failing the Legion a single time too many.

The Warmaster had been clear. Either he brought back the skulls of his opponents, or he need not return at all. And he knew all too well what the latter option entailed.

“You should have stayed in the hole you crawled into, ‘Commander’”, he spat. “For the Black Legion forgets not.”



++ALL CREW, PREPARE FOR WARP TRANSLATION++

++PERFORM YOUR DUTY OR SUFFER MY WRATH++

++OMNIA CADUNT++


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/03/17 15:32:34


Post by: Irishpeacockz


Faolan left Baltair's operating room quickly, eager to get away from this sickening part of the holy monastery. He went back up the stairs and through the horde of apothecaries and servitors, who still had not noticed him, and back into the elevator. He sought Techmarine Cadfael who came down with Faolan supplies. Faolan examined the control panel and chanced the armory. The elevator groaned to life and started its ascent through the mountain. Faolan began to reflect on his meeting with the Chapter Master. Baltair Seoc had received a transmission from a Lord Govenor of a agricultural world called Crion that apparently was under attack by bloodthirsty orks, delusional separatists and foul chaos heretics. According to the High lords of Terra, Crion is too important to lose and has granted it's protection. Crion's harevests are so bountiful that they feed the entire subsector and if lost billions would starve, a harsh fate agreed by both Faolan and Baltair. The elevator grinded to a halt and the two massive doors parted to Techmarine Cadfael and Maxen, Master of the forge inspecting several suits of terminator armor. "Greetings brothers" announced Faolan as he approached the suits, "what have we here ? Terminator armor eh ? Cadfael we are hardly taking all of this are we ? " asked Faolan gesturing to the multiple suits of Tactical Dreadnought Armor along with a multitude of weapons and ordinance. "That is what we were debating on " answered Maxen who clearly was not willing to give out this amount of gear without a valid reason and turned back to Cadfael for a response. " On the way back to Aspen I took stock of the armory aboard the Claw of Aspen" " And ?" quizzed Maxen " I found it to be severely depleted, what I have laid out here should be suffice to restore it to suitable levels." Still not satisfied Maxen pressed the issue. " There must be nought but spiders and cobwebs if this is what you are taking" Cadfael retorted " You would have your fellow brothers under equipped ?" annoyance in his tone. " Enough" sighed Faolan, "We do not need that much ordinance, take only a third of it, take the terminator suits and the weaponry. " Faolan turned to Maxen for approval who nodded and signalled the servitors to load up the supplies. " Cadfael come and let us return to the Claw of Aspen, there is xenos to slay." The marines said their farewells, Faolan and Cadfael went to the elevator while Maxen oversaw the servitors loading their supplies. " So you talk to Baltair ?" Asked Cadfael ? "Indeed I did, before you ask there will be a briefing back on the battle barge." As Cadfael and Faolan were about to depart they were accompanied by Houndmaster Rhodri. " Faolan, I request a meeting in your private quarters once we aboard " "Very well Houndmaster, have we picked up more Hounds ? " " Oh do not worry brother, our kennels are full" and with that the thunderhawk took off from Morga Dun.

Faolan's thunderhawk arrived for him to see the last of the cargo to arrive from Aspen. Maxen's servitors were efficient, Faolan expected nothing less. Faolan disembarked and made his way to the bridge. The bridge was full of servitors and serfs dashing about making sure the Claw of Aspen was ready to travel. Faolan proceeded to his chair throne and bellowed " Idris !". A serf came running in with long steel hair tied back with a trimmed beard. "Yes lord ? " "Get me on the ship comms" "Here you go sir " " Good man, Attention to all personnel, this is your Alpha marine speaking, the Claw of Aspen will depart to a planet called Crion as soon as we are able, more details will follow once we are in the system, Faolan out". Faolan arose,"Idris, i'll be in my quarter's". Faolan reired to his quaters hoping to brood over Baltair's request only to be interrupted by Rhodri standing in the doorway to his office. "Ah Faolan, fancy seeing you here" Rhodri has sinced removed his helm, he bore the White armor of the Apothecarion with the chapter symbol on his left shoulder. He was young and rash but also knowledgeable, particularly about the hounds the chapter utilised in battle. His charge was the well being of the kennels as shown by his canine shaped helmet which was maglocked to his hip. His hair was short, red with a light stubble to match. "Can this not wait ?" Asked Faolan " I want some privacy " Rhodri smirked, "This will only take a minute" Rhodri stepped to one side allowing Faolan to pass. " I would like to clarify a few things, particularly about our Chapter Master's new hobby" Faolan frowned "Hobby ? You mean those twisted experiments ?" Rhodri recoiled "Now now, it is all in an effort to make our furry friends that bit more deadly, anywho let us talk about Baltair's request." This took Faolan as a suprise, " How do you know about that ? I thought it was between me and him ?" Rhodri tapped his nose " It is my business to know, as soon as we arrived I will scan the system for the more promising areas. As soon as we single out these areas we can send out some scout squads, maybe even some of our own hounds." Faolan turned to Rhodri " We also have a planet to secure Houndmaster " Rhodri bowed "Of course my lord, no harm in planning ahead, I'll take my leave". Finally Faolan had the privacy he sought, he slumped into his chair. All this cloak and dagger meetings with both Baltair and Rhodri were grinding on his nerves and the fact that Rhodri was going behind his back .... No such mistrust should not exist between battle brothers, he purged such thoughts from his mind. Faolan's vox cackled to life, it was Idris. "Commander we are ready to warp jump". The filthy xenos that defiled Crion would soon face the Emperor's Angels of Death.
Spoiler:
. Technically this happens before the duel as marines are on their way to Crion, use your imagination!!


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/03/17 16:54:14


Post by: TheEyeOfNight



Lord Eisell was beset by terrible dreams that night.

He dreamed that he was still running through the hive, seeing flames and hearing screams all around. Jael was nowhere to be found, and he had the dismal sensation that she was dead. He ran harder, unheeding the destruction all around, looking for somewhere that may resemble safety.

A blue flower lay at his feet, discarded in the midst of ruin, but still pure and untouched.

Without warning, a horrible screech filled his mind, and a face loomed before him, absent of flesh, nothing more than glistening muscle, shredded tissue, and bare teeth. Twin eyes, blazing with hatred, stared out at him from the ruined visage.

And then he dreamed no more.

* * * *

Eisell's body lay on the bed, lit periodically by the raging fires and explosions outside of the governor's palatial spire. It was still warm, yet unmoving, finding a safety and comfort in death which had been denied to him in the fury of the riots. Jael stood over him, wiping the specks of blood from her hand as she admired the knife she had buried in the side of his skull. The amasec-induced stupor was gone from her eyes, replaced with a cold hatred she had learned from months of meeting with the Brotherhood in secret. They had showed her the truth, which she had forgotten after years of life sequestered in the hive. There were greater forces at play, far greater than she, and the only hope of survival was to swear to their service.

"It's too peaceful an end for him." She inclined her head thoughtfully, wrenching the sharp tool from Eisell's corpse. "We should have bled him more."

Beside her, Lazarus shook his head dismissively, turning away from the dead baron and moving towards the pile of its belongings. A dozen more rebels crept in through the window, their feet wrapped in tattered cloth to muffle their entrance through the old servant's passages. Jael had spent weeks before the riots in an apparently blissful wandering, secretly scouting every entrance into the supposedly impregnable governor's spire. When her husband sealed the gates, he had unwittingly sealed a traitor into the spire with them.

"No, it is fitting." Lazarus pushed over a bag of clothing with his foot, and selected a small satchel from the deceased baron's personal affects. "We must maintain the illusion that he, and the others, are still alive and holding on. As long as Crion believes they still have defenders here, they will not attack this place. His death will have more power than his life ever did." He paused at his own words, and the vague memory they brought back. Odd that he should recall a battle fought so long ago now.

He shook his head to clear it, and withdrew a small electronic wafer from the satchel, clenching it in his fist. The baron's personal cryptosecurity codes and emergency authority were contained within, and without official word of his death, they would remain active within Hive Cogger's databanks. Mordecai followed behind him, the stolen radio clutched to his ear, his voice muffled by a white mask covering his mouth and chin. "Father, the refugees from the city are fleeing to the East, towards the planetside elevator."

"So they are." Lazarus lowered his voice, opening the door to the quarters just barely. "They are being escorted by a young and courageous captain from the Defense Force, and he will ensure they make it to their new home."

Lazarus glanced out through the cracked door, counting the weary guardsmen arrayed with their guns facing towards the massive gate. Facing the wrong way, he smiled to himself. He extended his hand to Mordecai, passing him the security wafer. "Take apart the upper databanks one by one, leave nothing uncovered. Find the Amaranth. The rest of you, with me."

He leaned his shotgun against the wall, and instead drew his chipped and beaten sword: a relic of past battles he'd rather forget. "We finish this quietly."

* * * *

Lord Eisell had been right about one thing: the rioters and rebels were no army. They were rabble, raised from the unruly alleys and backdoors of Hive Cogger, just armed enough to bring down the city's defenders. But now, barring the mock force left to maintain the illusion of a siege, the rebels were given free run of the city to arm and armor themselves. Nothing was left undisturbed: autoguns and blades were stripped from the dead defenders, improvised armor was fashioned from scrap metal and street signs, and any working vehicle was loaded with guns and gunners. Red banners flew from what buildings remained as the throng of rebels marshaled themselves for war.

They stood as one horde on the streets of Hive Cogger: armed and armored with steel and undying faith.

They were an army now.

* * * *

++ALL STATIONS ALL STATIONS ALL STATIONS++
++THIS IS HIVE COGGER ON SECURE EMERGENCY CHANNEL++
++THE CITY HAS FALLEN++
++THE GOVERNOR AND STAFF ARE SAFE IN THE CENTER SPIRE++
++SEND SUPPLIES AND ARMAMENT++
++WE WILL HOLD AS LONG AS WE CAN++



Spoiler:
Major Victory for executing the last defenders, pretending the city is still under seige, and cracking Imperial comms. Plots thicken.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/03/17 17:37:52


Post by: aldo


-M’lord, the work is done, all this damn hull is ready to explode. -A spasm of pride and delight passed through Madoc’s spine as he recalled the record-time installation he had performed.
-Good, who is in charge of the detonation? - asked the Lord.
- I’ve left Îlkin Hovo in charge...
At which point Lieutenant Feray jumped: -Lieutenant Îlkin he Hobo?! That drunkard has the control on when this Hulk blows up?!
Suddenly one of the screens in the meeting room turned on.
-Saying the name of the devil - said Kondwani, the sorceress.
Îlkin Hovo, his face blushing by his obvious drunkenness appeared in the screen.
-Got all in control m’ *hip* m’lord, Madoc had forgotten to press that red button so I’ve done it for him. Don’t be too hard on him thought, he’s old and he sometimes forget*hip* forgets things.
-Im here you useless insect! And that was the detonator, you’ve just killed us all! -raged the Techmarine.
-Madoc - said Solak - how much of a count-down did you put on the timer?
-About thirty seconds, so about no…

With a massive *Booooom* the millennia old space hulk fragmented into many billions of little chunks which fell all over Luna Epsilon.



On Arcadi’s Bay a little girl was looking through the window of his house.
-Look mom! It's raining stars!


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/03/17 20:28:47


Post by: Bobthehero


----- Inside the Swift Guardian, 6 months before the Crion incident -----

The entire upper echelon of the 85th was present in the briefing room. Following the Crusade of Fury, the 85th was engaged in various smaller conflicts while it slowly rebuilt its strenght. Gallus had gathered every company leader for the briefing, everyone expecting some sort of large scale assignement.

'' We have received orders from upstairs, I think you'll enjoy them '' said Gallus, he seemed unnaturally happy about what he was about to say, and that never bode well.

'' We were given a month off war, once this operation is over, we're heading to Crion and have ourselves some time to relax a bit ''

The announcement was followed by various Tempestors talking to another, speculating about their ''mission''. Gallus raised his hand.

'' Now now, I siad a bit, from what I learned about this world, its a rather important one, and we'll train the PDF while we're there, turn them into something worth holding a lasrifle, can't have our men do absolutely nothing for a month, either ''


----- Inside the Swift Guardian, a few days away from Crion itself -----

'' Captain, we're receiving a message, says its from Crion ''

'' Patch it ''

(static) This is Lord Governor (static) Payne of Crion. We are under attack, (static) orks unifying. (static) separatist scum. (static) Heretics. We are desperate our PDF is incapable of defending against all these threats. Any Imperial forces in the area we beg of you to come to our aid. Coordinates follow.


The Captain frowned '' I guess our charges will want to hear about that, I'll go inform them about this situation '', the Captain left the bridge and started to look for Gallus.

'' What do you mean, transmission? '' asked the Tempestor Prime, half awake from a very deep sleep.

'' Call it a comm or whatever, the planet's under attack, I doubt you and your men will enjoy much peace down there ''

Gallus sighed '' Its fine, we're not really good at this whole peace things ''

'' Does that change much of our plan? ''

'' Not really, no, send a message to Drake's Point, we'll request a staging area in it and secure it, just... make it far more secure than I expected, how long until we reach the planet? ''

'' A week at the very least ''

'' Then I'll let my men sleep this one, I'll inform them tomorrow ''


----- Crion skies, above the Scion Camp in Drake's Point -----

The duel had been an interesting distraction, but the 85th had pressing matters, while the commanders were away, the rest of the Battalion had started setting up a camp in Drake's Point.

'' How are we going to play this out, sir? '' asked Castella

'' Well first thing first, we'll sweep the entire area assigned to us, find any secret entrance, place we would use to infiltrate and whatnot, and either put security on it, trap it or collapse the thing, it will be a good exercise for the new batch of Scions ''

'' You sure you want the newbies on such an important duty sir? '' asked Riley

'' We'll pass after them, of course ''

Riley nodded '' And then what? ''

'' Link up with PDF command, see where our men are going to be needed, we'll keep a bunch here to secure our base, send a hundred or so train the PDF, but the rest will either hunt cultists in the capital, or Orks in the wild ''

The Valkyrie landed and the trio exited the flyer. All around them, the camp was busy with activity. Scions setting semi-permanent housing, Valkyries landing, carryall ships packed full with ammunition and fuel, everything needed to sustain the Scions for the upcoming mission. Gallus looked on as a squad Scion prevented curious civilians from entering the compound, everything was going well so far, but the Tempestor Prime was under no illusions that everything could go very badly wrong very quickly. A runner interrupted Gallus.

'' Sir, message from the Lord Governor, requests your presence at a banquet he's giving out ''

Gallus turned towards Castella '' Political games are your strong suit, Castella, you will attend ''

The Tempestor Secundus nodded and left to prepare herself.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/03/18 00:55:43


Post by: Kharne the Befriender


=====Briefing Room, The Agrona=====

Taranis met with his war council which included Exitar, Ogun, Artemis, and their officers. It was a dimly lit room with the only light being above the table in the center of the room.The walls were adorned with pictures of the companies conquests with every other wall depicting a visage of the Emperor performing some equally heroic deed. Bone ornaments with intricate line carvings dangled from the ceiling like carcasses from a hunter’s lodge. Ogun was the first to speak, “I dislike this idleness, we should make planet fall and establish a base.” Exitar spoke next, “Ogun speaks true, we should be on the surface, at least down there we can slaughter freely.” Taranis’ psy-vox turned his thoughts into a deep yet soft metallic voice that cause many of the lower ranking officers to shiver, “Agreed, we’ll drop onto this point,” He pointed to the middle of the region known as Clerth, “We’ll scout for an area to make a base.” Artemis spoke through his serrated teeth, “Will we have an area for the dead or shall we return them to the ship?” Taranis looked at Ogun who mulled it over, “I’m sure I can make an area for the dead.” “It will be the chapel. The dead belong to the Emperor.” “And so it shall be, I want to see you three in the deployment bay, now.

=====Clerth, Crion=====

Taranis looked around the bay of the Stormbird Carcharius. Aside from himself, Exitar, Ogun, and Artemis, he brought with Assault Squads Ornatus and Ferox and Tactical Squads Oligidon and Besnardi. Alongside the Stormbird were the Assault Rams Canis and Perlo carrying Terminator Assault Squad Hemiodon and Vanguard Squad Microdon followed by the Fire Raptor Nasus. The lights in the cabin flickered green indicating they were nearing the base site. The Stormbird touched down gently as the hatches opened, the Assault Rams followed, flanking the Carharius. Taranis started issuing commands as soon as he left the Stormbird, “I want the Nasus to circle the area and keep a lookout for enemies. Exitar, take Microdon and scout north. Ogun, take Ornatus and scout south. Artemis, take Ferox and go west. Oligidon and Besnardi will stay here and secure the surrounding area. Hemiodon, you’re with me to the east.” Taranis was met with varying answers denoting they understood. It was but an hour before Ogun’s voice boomed over the vox, “Sir, I’ve found something, I think you’ll like it.” “All forces converge on Ogun.

=====Blood Dragon Ruins, Clerth=====

Taranis walked with Ogun as they surveyed the ruins. There were only a few bunkers, each had been pilfered of loot and many walls were beginning to crumble, but the foundations were sturdy. It would do well as a base. Taranis began giving instructions to Ogun on where things would go, “Our stronghold will be built in the central bunker, the other 3 bunkers will be the barracks, the armoury, and the chapel. Clear out that area of the forest and build a depot for our vehicles, over there will be the plasma generators and I want tarantula turrets established on the perimeter.
After Taranis finished speaking he turned to head back to the thunderhawk when Exitar arrived, “Captain, the Lord Governor requires your presence for a banquet at his mansion. It would be wise to attend and see what the rest of the Imperial forces are like.
It matters not what the other Imperials are here for, we are here for the Eldar. I will attend none the less though.” Taranis walked back to the Carcharius while Exitar spoke with Ogun. Artemis stood in the doorway of the Stormbird and stared into the forest, he seemed entranced by something. Taranis stood by him and looked into the forest as well, he found nothing to enthralling, just trees. "Artemis, are you alright?" Artemis slowly shook is head as if shaking something out of his head, "Yes, I am fine, why do you ask?" "You were staring into the forest, what were you looking at?" "Nothing in particular, I thought I saw something move and was making sure it was nothing." "I see... come, let us return to the Agrona, we'll discuss recruitment from this planet." Artemis' face lit up into a bright smile, not that one could tell under his helmet. His greatest joy in life was recruitment. He felt tremendous honor in being the one to help people serve the Emperor.




Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/03/18 01:36:42


Post by: War Kitten


Thirianna moved as quietly and as swiftly as the wind. She had been on this moon for a few cycles now, surveying, surviving, and watching. It was another routine recon, all she needed to do was reach the bottom of the valley and ascend the other side, and then she could return to her warm quarters back at the Ranger Base Camp. Just as she reached the other side she heard the noise of a small object bouncing off of a rock and turned swiftly, raising her Shuriken pistol only to see a small object tumbling down the hill. It was an idol to Isha she had on here, it had slipped loose and began to fall. Thirianna had received the idol years ago as a gift from her mother, and she still treasured it now years later. It was her most prized possession, even more so than her Long Rifle and Cloak. She began to descend again when she heard another noise, a different one this time. The monotone harmony of marching metal. The sound stirred a faint memory, one that she had not thought about in years. It stirred an ancient dread inside her, along with a furious rage. Then the noise began to grow louder as the source began to get closer and closer to her position. Quickly she dove and hid behind a rock that was next to a rather large tree on the side of the hill. As the steps passed by and off into the distance she peered over the rock to gaze below. Then she saw it. The Yngir, by the looks of him he was one of their “Overlords”. The very sight of him stirred the embers of the ancient anger that she had within her heart, and she found herself reaching instinctively for her Long Rifle. She saw him holding her idol, studying it, looking at it. She grew even angrier at the sight of the Yngir Overlord holding and studying the most precious thing in the world to her. She recalled a passage from an ancient prophecy that she had heard years before, “And the eye of Isha shall dim, closing for eternity. Such a gentle goddess cannot witness such atrocities as they shall wreak.” Then it hit her like a bolt of lightning. The prophecy had been referring to his very moment! She would not let this happen, in an instant she had shouldered her Long Rifle and taken aim. She drew a bead on the Yngir, still looking at the idol. She began to squeeze the trigger when it looked up from the idol almost surprised. The sudden movement threw off her aim when she pulled the trigger. Instead of removing his head from his body, the bolt of coherent light merely removed his arm. Cursing her luck she instantly dived away from the rock and behind the nearby copse of tries. And not a moment too soon. Mere moments after she had vacated the cover of the rocks they were engulfed in a blast of light from the Overlord’s staff. After her vision cleared she saw that the rocks, had been reduced to utter nothingness. Panting behind a tree Thirianna tried to comprehend how close to death she had come. If she had stayed in cover for just a few seconds longer…. She looked to the rock that was there a minute ago, then to what cover she could use to escape. Then she saw the Overlord gesture to his troops, and they walked off, and around the bend to the next valley. She waited a few seconds longer before leaving, to make sure that they were truly gone. Then she began making her way far from that valley and back to her camp. She would warn the others what dangers were arising on this planet, and then she needed to send word back to the Craftworld, they had to be warned about the rising threat on this world. It was time for Iybraesil to march to war once more.


Lilliana cursed bitterly as she read the note that she had just received from the High Council. The Craftworld was marching to war once more, and they wanted her to lead the Warhost! They knew that the loss of her mate during the last assembly of the Warhost had scarred her deeply, and then they still demanded that she fight. She couldn’t help but feel that fate was mocking her. Only recently had she felt that her life was beginning to get back on track, and now it was all being taken away from her just like that! But deep in her heart she knew that she would not refuse to call to arms, even if she could. Even though she had sought to not use her powers at all, she had received several disturbing visions as of late. Most of them were unclear, as if fate itself was unsure of what was going to happen, but in each of them Lilliana had been able to make out a predatory beast circling the world as if searching for something, a beast that resembled what the humans called a shark. Lilliana couldn’t help but remember a group of humans that she had fought years ago who had borne a symbol that matched the one in her vision. The fighting had been fierce, and it had only ended when Lilliana herself put a spear through the throat of the human’s leader, and they had then retreated to lick their wounds. So why was she receiving visions of them once more? Were they going to enter the stage on that world that she had been asked to go to? If so, what was their plan? She knew not. Disturbingly, a report had come in from one of their Rangers that Necrons were on the move on that planet, Necrons who Lilliana had last seen in the Charadon System 5 years ago… She sighed and cursed bitterly once more. Things couldn’t ever be easy could they? She was jolted out her reverie when she felt a small figure slam into the back of her knee, and Lilliana’s heart melted as she recognized her daughter Maya. Now three years old, Maya was already beginning to show signs of a prodigious psychic talent, and Lilliana knew that she had the potential to be a powerful Seer, depending on which Path she chose to follow. Her daughter was also incredibly driven, and Lilliana was fiercely proud of her child, who was already proving to be so much like her father was. While Maya had inherited her looks, she appeared to have inherited her father’s personality, and Lilliana knew she would become quite the handful someday. That thought caused a spike of grief to go through her. How could she explain to her daughter that her mother was going away to war? She had accepted the news of her father’s death long before she was born stoically, but how would she react to potentially losing her mother too? It was possible that Lilliana would not return from this fight, and she hated the idea that her daughter might have to go through life without either of her parents at her side, and it was at that moment that Lilliana swore that she would return to her daughter alive, even if she had to burn the world to do so. And as she looked into the eyes that resembled hers so much, she felt her resolve grow. She would not fail her loved ones again.

A few weeks later……..




Ranger Thirianna crept silently through the forests in the area that the humans called Clerth. There was something off about this area, but Thirianna couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was. It was if there was something wrong with the forest itself, and Thirianna couldn’t help but feel a shiver go down her spine as she once more glanced around the area, assuring herself that there was truly nothing there. After warning the Craftworld of the encroaching Necron threat on this world, she had gone back to help locate an ideal location for a base of operations. And she had found it, in an area that the humans called Frov, on the main planet Crion. She had located an ancient, long forgotten Webway gate there on a small island on a lake and, once activated, it had enabled her kin to rapidly send troops into the area to secure it, and they had done well. The entirety of Frov was now under Eldar control. Wards had been set up on the outskirts to deter their foes from entering, and those who did persist in their attempts to attack the Eldar here would be met by a gauntlet of traps. All of them designed to bleed the enemy dry before they even caught sight of the Eldar! She shook herself out of her reverie as she came to the tree line, and she paused when she saw a flurry of activity at some old human ruins. Farseer Lilliana had asked her to recon this area, for she had seen a vision of the arrival of these mon’keigh. The same mon’keigh who the Craftworld had launched a devastating strike against several years ago, and Thirianna wondered idly if these humans had followed the Eldar here, or if their presence was merely a coincidence. She shook herself fiercely, very few of her kind believed in coincidence anymore, these humans must have a reason for being here, and Thirianna had a sneaking suspicion that they somehow knew the Eldar were on planet. She raised her long rifle to her shoulder and glanced through the scope. Many black armored figures were running around there, setting up defenses, buildings, and making impomptou repairs to the fortress walls, and as she watched she saw several figures begin to walk around. Then suddenly one of the figures turned and stared towards where she stood unseen amongst the trees, and Thirianna froze, even though she knew that there was no possible way for that Marine to have seen her from this distance. Eldar camo technology was far superior to anything the humans could create, and she KNEW that even human’s primitive camo technology would be impossible to see at this distance. Still, she couldn’t help but feel that she had indeed been noticed, and after examining the fortress some more and writing down some notes for Lilliana, Thirianna turned around and began making the long trek back home. Things had suddenly gotten very interesting around here.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/03/18 18:05:46


Post by: Buttery Commissar


"Lord Captain Fairfax, Magos Explorator Liza Alfretan of the Adeptus Mechanicus." Garth stood at the door of the meeting hall and held it for their guest and a small glinting servoskull that trailed her.
Edward stood to greet Liza and bowed, before greeting her with the old Cog hand gesture familiar to the Mechanicum. He had remembered that many in their ranks did not enjoy the trivial human contact of greetings such as hand shakes. He had not wished to presume any different of the young woman before him.
Her eyebrows raised in pleasant amusement, and she stepped forward and extended a glinting hand, "Please Lord Captain, call me Liza. We are in your home." her voice was young.
Garth blinked in surprise, the woman sounded no older than fourteen, yet she could only be a woman. He wondered if the lack of need for verbal communication kept it so soft, thinking of his own gravelly bark from years of commanding over the noise of battle and engine. His mind wandered to the use of softly speaking child-voiced commissars before he snapped his attention back to the room. He had become mesmerised by Liza's movement, and realised Edward was watching him expectantly. He closed the door and stepped neatly to the side of his Lord Captain's desk.
Edward smiled, "Liza, Garth you have already met. He is my Seneschal and right hand. If at any time you cannot reach me, trust him to act in my stead; I do."
Liza nodded, "Thank you Lord Captain, Seneschal." She reached up and pulled her slim rebreather from her jawline, revealing her lower jaw and smile.
Edward thought her remarkable, but tried to contain his joy at feeling interested in anything for the first time in months. Liza mistook his fluctuations as curiously.

Liza kept her birth name.
A Magos Explorator despite her youth, she had hair of braided metal and cable, functional and beautiful in its own way. Each braid capable of interfacing with any given artefact or machine, data laid bare to her in fractions of a second. Threaded into a scalp laced with circuits, concealed by the dense tresses of many different metallic tones.
Her eyes were shielded beneath polarised glass lenses, seated in deep golden frames. Lenses on which displays, hidden to all but her, scattered and danced in patterns indecipherable to all but a few. She had been told those eyes were the green of fresh vegetation, as though this was in some way important, valuable.
Beneath her hood, the rest of her face was usually obscured by a smooth, custom-fitted rebreather, designed to efficiently draw as much oxygen to her brain as needed, keeping her both sustained and optimised. It bore the unmistakable craftsmanship of her brother Barreck's hands. Functional, minimalist, and perfectly tailored.
His gift to her, before they had taken her arms. Replaced them with augmetic creations of such workmanship, had they been sheathed beneath synth skin, nothing in their movement would have betrayed them. The dexterity of them tenfold to that of her original fumbling biological tools. But they were not sheathed, they glinted beneath her robes, as did the sectional cuirass that gave form to her chest and torso.

Unlike many of those in her exploratory company, Liza did not appear unfinished or in some way still bare. To the untrained eye, her intricately scribed augmentation and metal was her skin, her armour, and her clothing in one. Inside it beat a heart that was yet untouched by technology, albeit monitored constantly. The fluttering rhythms and changes of pace fascinated her, where they distracted or disgusted her peers.
Where she had skin visible, it was near seamlessly integrated with her machine being. No scarring or reddened flesh marred her body. Every part accepted the machine god's gift as though it had always been there.

And then there was the storm of her fine, trailing mechadendrites, "tentacles" the humans aboard crudely called them. They flowed as constantly as the tide, never stopping unless engaged with a task. Some slim, some capable of lifting a man or machine with barely a thought. And such things were.

Liza kept her human name. When brought as a child into the Mechanicus, very little had been her choice, and she accepted her position with dedication and unmatched enthusiasm. She sought knowledge to aid those around her, not for personal gain. She understood the core values taught to her, as more than code, they were thought. Instinct.

And yet Liza kept her human name, her heart, and her eyes. The few parts of her life that she could always truly call her own.

*

Garth returned with a broad tray, and set out three mugs and a glass teapot on the table, quietly but without elegance.
"...I've tried to domesticate him, but he's only really just got as far as green tea." Edward chuckled, and wondered if Garth had somehow deliberately found three mugs with nothing in common, either design or pattern-wise.
He had, however, "I remembered the honey." he muttered.
Liza's eyes lit up, metaphorically, at the tea, "It is very rare that I am able to sit and take part in a slow drink," she raised her head, "imagine from our perspective, the inefficiency of a drink you must wait for."
Edward laughed softly, "Some things are worth the wait, even if time is short, Liza. Though perhaps not as long as Garth would have us do so."
The commissar raised an eyebrow at the teasing and finished pouring the tea.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/03/18 22:14:28


Post by: Sgt_Smudge


Shas'O Skyhunter surveyed his- no, the cadre's forward operating base. From orbit, his remaining bombers and ships cleared a clearing in the southern forest of the planet's third continent. The trees were stronger than anything, but his Gue'vesa'El Vandred assured his commander that it was merely the ironwood in the trees. When the firebombing and chemical bombardment had ceased, Skyhunter's Earth Caste personnel confirmed it on the ground. They began to collect samples, analysing it's potential for use in Crisis Suit repair.

Fire Warrior teams set up marker zones for the Air Caste pilots to land their Mantas and Orcas. These would form the basis of Sunstrike's new base of operations, acting as shelter from rain and cold, and fortified bunker in case of attack. Skyhunter's Earth Caste worked with Fire Caste troopers to set up fields of fire, and clearing out escape lanes for the aircraft to fly out of if necessary. Tau doctrine taught to never have a static defence, and that stagnation was the enemy of success. Skyhunter may have hated the Greater Good and the oppression of the Ethereal Caste, but he wouldn't scorn the Tau's way of war. His own adaptation of the standard Tau tactics had served him well to reach Shas'O.

When the aircraft were set down onto the earth and draped with local foliage, the destruction began anew. The Cadre's Riptide suits, airdropped from a pair of Razorshark Gunships, used their mighty fists to dislodge and uproot huge trees to clear for an airstrip. Crisis and Breacher Teams used their own weaponry to set out the boundary, and let the Riptides remove the debris. Within hours, the airstrip had been set down and marker beacons deployed. Razorshark and Sunshark flyers began to land and become one with the rest of the forest.

Shas'Vre Ghostwalk, Shadowbrand's lieutenant, took teams of Pathfinders and Stealth Suits around the base, and set up concealed drone rigs. These would automate if a target not bearing active Sunstrike Cadre access codes were to pass them, tearing them apart with burst cannon, rail rifle, fusion blaster or smart missile volleys. These were set up around the facility, hidden under foliage, or in the eaves of tall trees, or under a small brook or rock formation. No-one could ever stumble into Sunstrike's base and survive.

Skyhunter thought back to when they found Shadowbrand. After the cadre had seperated from the Greater Good, Shadowbrand had taken a one-person ship to acout the planet. She got her report out, but never made it back to the rest of the fleet. They'd heard nothing from her, and were about to assume her dead if it weren't for a distress beacon emanating from a Tau beacon not two kilometres from Sunstrike's camp. There, she had been strapped into a saviour pod. She spoke of surgery at the hands of giants, of being toyed with and played with before being discarded. The medics overlooked her, and found no abnormalities, not even signs of a surgery in the first place. She did, however, possess remarkable potential in a mock physical test. Shadowbrand was more alert and agile, with more stamina and skill than ever before.

Both Shadowbrand and Skyhunter accepted this without question.

She was going through the last of her diagnostic phases when Skyhunter called his cadre to attention. With all of the soldier-like energy they possessed when the Cadre had first left Dal'yth, they assembled on the airstrip. Ranks upon ranks of Fire Warriors, Pathfinders and other Tau were arrayed before Skyhunter. The Shas'O was able to remove the front panel of his suit, so that the cadre could see his face. He never left the suit though.
An Ork power klaw tearing through his suit years ago had destroyed his legs and crushed the base of his spine and lower body. As far as the Empire and he was concerned, Skyhunter would never walk again.

The commander engaged the thrusters on his suit and hovered above his cadre. He spoke to address them.
"Brothers and Sisters of Sunstrike Cadre. The Empire is behind us. You are all free Tau, and humans. By way of vote, you have all chosen to let me command you, instead of being ruled over by the cowardly Ethereal Caste! And by this I swear: no castes shall exist. Mixed training and courses will be run by senior commanders of the Cadre. There will be no distinction between Tau and Gue. You all stood with me. You are all equal in my eyes."

A loud cheer went up from the cadre. From what Skyhunter could see, there were some tears from some Tau he'd fought alongside, Tau he never thought would even show such emotion. He felt his breast swell with pride.

"But we cannot be complacent. The Empire will come for us. One day, there will be a reckoning. We may be attacked by Gue, by Be'gel, by anything that sees us as part of that wretched Empire. We must last. I've chosen to set a new order in place. You shall not be forced to serve in the cadre's military or labour divisions. But for those that do, you will receive rewards equal to your service. But I shall not, nor ever condone, force you to serve me. Remember that, sisters and brothers."

He descended from the sky, and touched down to the ground. Shas'O Skyhunter was swarmed by the jubilant, overjoyed soldiers of Sunstrike Cadre, and his suit was covered by the embraces and reverent hands of his brethren.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/03/19 00:24:01


Post by: Irishpeacockz


Faolan studied Crion and its moons through the bay window of the Claw of Aspen. He summoned his honour guard, it was time to decide their plan going forward.The five members of Honour Guard Madra entered with Sergeant Cearul Adair in front followed by Cabhan Cadarn, Ardan Rymus, Emyr Glaw and Pryce Nye. All had their helmets maglocked to their hips. Cearul, Faolan's second in command and his protégé sported a freshly shaven head, must have done it this morning remarked Faolan and a trimmed beard. Cearul armed himself with a stormshield and a power axe, his armour took the form of MK VIII which was highly ornate with many runes etched onto its surface. A nice piece of armor thought Faolan, you do not see much of its kind in the chapter. His eyes drifted to Cearul's right to Ardan Rymus, a veteran of my Campaigns and one of Faolan's most trusted squadmates. When the leader of the 4th pack was still being decided after the death of the previous Alpha marine Talfryn Siors due to a deadly Dark Eldar poison, Rymus was considered by many to be the next in line gut he refused stating that he was a warrior not a leader and that he was happy with his position in the honour guard. The grizzled marine had a decorated chainsword hung from his belt along with a plasma pistol, his armor of choice was MK V plate. To Cearul's right stood Emyr Glaw, a friend of Cearul's since they were scouts and like Cearul is a defensive fighter equipping himself with a stromshield and a power sword, his gleaming armor was a variant of MKV plate. His short jet black hair and smooth face set him apart from his usual bearded brothers.In the back behind the three mentioned marines stood Cabhan Cadarn and Pryce Nye. Cadarn was a seasoned marine but one with bloodlust and often looked upon with suspicion from his own brothers, his combat effectiveness however is undisputable. His face was disfigured due to a Ork Nob, he is bald with no facial hair and a deep scar running diagonally down from his left eyebrow to the right hand side of his jaw. He bears his favourite Lightening Claws and MK IV plate. lastly the newest member of Honour Guard Madra stood Pryce Nye who disguised himself battling the traitorous leigons and slaying a vile sorceror. His face had a weathered look with dark brown hair shaved at the sides and braided from the top and progressed down his back, his beard was also braided. He also sported a stormshield and power sword. All of these observations happend within a few seconds as Faolan's brothers entered.

Faolan motioned to the three globes in the center of the room. "Brothers, it is time, this is Crion, it is an agricultural world that feeds this entire subsector. We have received this transmission from the planetary govenor, (static) This is Lord Governor (static) Payne of Crion. We are under attack, (static) orks unifying. (static) separatist scum. (static) Heretics. We are desperate our PDF is incapable of defending against all these threats. Any Imperial forces in the area we beg of you to come to our aid. Coordinates follow. These other two globes are the adjacent moons, Luna Maximus and Luna Epsilon.Our scanners indicate that several other imperial leaders have already landed here on Luna Maximus, as such I believe we should land here on the southern Isle in the Isles of pratt, it is isolated and we can fortify the island, if anyone attacks they will be seen from miles away. It appears two rival knight houses are having a duel in the Kikkari desert, many Imperial leaders are attending I among them in order to see who we are working with. I want Cabhan, Cearul and Pryce with me. Ardan you will clear and fortify the isles of Pratt along with Emyr. After the duel I will regroup with you and decide our plan of action. Any questions ? " Ardan stepped forward, " Just one, why aren't we deploying at kikkari desert with the rest of our brothers in arms ?". A question Faolan hoped they would not ask, "Good question, to put it simply I can not tolerate the heat." Honour Guard Madra erupted in laughter at their commander who even managed to crack a smile at his own expense, "There is also the fact that we want to avoid all being deployed at the same spot. With us here the Imperium has more control and reach over Luna Maximus".Pryce emerged from behind Cearul, "yes but it is mainly the heat isn't it ?" The Honour Guard broke down laughing again. "Enough " grumbled Faolan, his patience wearing thin, "You have your orders" said Faolan waving them away dismissively.Ardan and Emyr nodded in approval and went to ready the squads, Cearul, Cabhan and Pryce fell in behind Faolan as they made their to the hanger bay.
.........................
Faolan was disappointed, he expected a epic battle,a show of great skill and courage. What he witnessed today wasn't a duel, that was a one sided beat down. House Cyrene will be humiliated by such a loss thought Faolan. Faolan saw it in High Queen Moira's eyes, that fight was pesonal and that lad was shaken like he had just seen a ghost. If the Honour Guard didn't enough of a kick during the debriefing that necron getting hoofed certainly had them in stitches. Faolan left the arena having met Moira and Ulric he departed for the landing pad.He was eager to get back to Ardan and see what the old marine had conjured up.Just then a PDF trooper ran up to Faolan and his retinue red faced and coughing up half a lung. " My lord, my lord a message from Lord Governor Payne, he invites all Imperial Leaders to a banquet to discuss strategy and the issues plaguing Crion." " Holy Terra lad catch your breath,It seems Ardan will have to wait, very well, send a message to Ardan telling him I will return after said banquet" the trooper banged his fist against his chest and ran off again. " Brother Dai bring in the thunderhawk, these political games are not yet at an end". The fact that Faolan had seemed to miss most of the leaders at the duel it would be worthwhile to properly meet the leaders of the Imperium fighting to liberate Crion from the enemies of man.
...........................
Ardan Rymus surveyed the southern isle of the isles of Pratt from aboard his thunderhawk. From above it was clear to see that one half of the isle was that the Northeastern side was elevated and and sloped to the south west. Ardan turned to the pilot, "Set us down on that elevated plain" pointing to a wide open area. The thunderhawk laid down Ardan and Assault Squad Onòir. Before he disembarked he turned once more to the pilot, " Get some servitors and Cadfael down here immediately" Ardan and his marines panned out from the thunderhawk to secure the area. The flat plain itselt was secure. However on the western edge of the plain it led off to a steep drop with a forest below. From this forest Ardan spotted smoke rising, fires. Ardan gestured toward the smoke and Assault squad Onòir moved in formation. Ardan ordered his marines to hold a few steps from the edge and peered over. Four fires burned in close proximity with primitive, feral orks huddling around them for warmth. The filthy xenos wore nothing but animal skins and war paint and wielded crude clubs. Ardan counted no more than two dozen of the greenskins although with the foliage and the greenskin tents he could not be sure. Ardan motioned for four marines to approach the edge. Simultaneously the four marines and Ardan dropped five frak grenades over the edge and waited for the satisfactorily sound of cracking timber and agonising screams. At once Assault Squad Onòir descended on the confused greenskin menace. The marines crashed through the trees and cut a swath through the xenos. Eight more orks emerged from the huts shouting and grunting to each other. Ardan laughed as three orks approached him swinging their clubs over the heads. Ardan drew his plamsa pistol and fire three shots in quick succession, decimating the xenos. A purple armored astartes flew past Ardan crashing into a nearby tree.Ardan turned to see a weirdboy throwing crackling green energy at his marines, initiating his jump pack, Ardan brought the might of the Emperor down on the greensick separating his head from his shoulders. Thirty two greenskins had been purged, while the weird boy managed to kill Brin outright, while Alwyn lost his leg below the knee. The ork camp that was once littered with fires and tents were now replaced with splinters, blood and gore, and not all of it orks'. Ardan brought his wounded and deceased back to the plain where Tactical squads Mara and Uirlis had arived along with Techmarine Cadfael and his servitor assistants. "Cadfael, set up,a perimeter of tarantula turrets and begin construction of a command center, work with the terrain. I have one wounded and one deceased, see to it that we recover brother Brin's geneseed and that Alwyn gets looked at." Cadfael nodded in confirmation. "I will continue to rout out the greenskins that infest this place, I should not be long. Tactical squads patrol the perimeter so the servitors are not disturbed when constructing the walls and turrets". Prehaps being the Alpha Marine wouldn't have been so bad . Ardan's vox cackled to life, it was Emyr. "Rymus, I believe I found the warboss to these green bastards (static, followed by the sound of an explosion ) shame if you missed out, relying coordinates now " Ardan gathered Assault Squad Onòir and rushed to assist his battle brothers.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/03/19 02:28:53


Post by: EvergreenArcher


Prepare an ambush
The hormagaunts slid into the overgrown bushes as if they were not even there. The raveners with their deathspitters hid in the treetops. The hulking form of the surviving lictor blended into the shadows using its camouflage. The sole warrior bio-form dug a small ditch next to a heavy jungle log. Nothing could see the brood's forces. Nothing did. They waited.
Patience
The swarm complied. They sat upon the places in the jungle where the traps had been. The hive wanted to consume this foul biomass. The brood wanted
Revenge
The hormagaunts leapt out of their cover, taking swipes at any biomass in the vicinity. A few raveners fell out of the trees. The lictor was visible for a moment before blending into the shadows once more. The warrior dug a deeper hole.
Be still
The raveners climbed back up the long, tall trees. The lictor remained motionless. The warrior stood in its hole. The hormagaunts returned to the bushes. Except one. A single hormagaunt had gotten far enough away as to be out of the synapse of the warrior form. It had gone feral.
Return
It did not comply.
Return
It had detected one of the many weak, tiny rodents that the swarm had saw since landing. It produced little biomass and could easily be captured later. The hormagaunt did not see it this way. It was once again primal. The hormagaunt leapt out at the startled creature. It however, missed. The sole gaunt continued to pursue its prey. The biomass was very swift and agile. So was the gaunt. Neither truly had the upper hand. The chase proceeded for a long time, all with the hive mind screaming at the gaunt to return. It refused. The rodent shall be consumed. They dodged around trees, over logs, under branches, neither ever accomplishing their goals. Until the rodent reached a dead end. It had entered a very thick part of the jungle. It could not escape. The gaunt stood triumphantly over its caught prey, and jumped, ready to rend and tear with its scything talons. Then, the rodent was gone. Apparently, the rodents were very skilled climbers. The gaunt attempted to scramble up the tree after it. However, by the time the gaunt scrambled up it, the rodent had disappeared. At that moment as well, the warrior form along with the rest of the ambush force caught up with it. The gaunt immediately felt the will of the hive mind, and joined up with the forces.
Retreat
The ambush had been a failure. The gaunt had taken the entire force off track, and no orks had been found. The gaunt must be remade into something better for its stupidity.

[After a few hours]

Patrol
The small squads of the swarm's forces continued their relentless patrolling around the norn-queen. One particular termagaunt walked around admiring its shiny new deathspitter. It had been made today.

These setbacks will not stop the relentless advance of the hive. The will become strong the moment the orks are crushed. The hive will be prosperous.
Long live the hive


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/03/19 02:42:28


Post by: Kharne the Befriender


=====Excavation Site, Crion III=====

The finally reached the site, it was a series of jagged hills with few entrances in. The entire area was shrouded with large trees and thick underbrush. A perfect area, for what Grulahk had planned. Within 6 hours of arriving, a drop site was established for the rest of the forces and a tunnel network was under way. Grulahk strolled over to Ultarn who was watching some Scarabs chew at an area,
What’s going on here?
I’ve decided this will be the Combat Information Center. We already have reanimation chamber and-.
Oh, ok. I need you to watch the base for a while.
Ultarn turned and slightly jumped in surprise at what he was seeing.
Grulahk, what is that? What are those? Why do you have these things?
This is a shirt with assorted flowers and trees. This is a chair, this is an umbrella, this is a drink. You don’t need to know.
Grulahk walked away and disappeared in an amber flash. Ultarn walked through the tunnel network and surveyed the work that was going on. He did this for awhile before running into Numek.
Ah, Cryptek! How goes the- what is wrong with your face…
The Cryptek squinted at Ultarn and gave him a confused look before realising what he was talking about. He opened his mouth to speak.
Oh, I made a face.
What do you mean ‘made’ a face?
Well, I decided that I wanted to look more like a Necrontyr than a soulless robot. This is only the beginning.
Can you feel?” Ultarn looked at the synthetic skin still trying to understand its existence. He slowly raised his finger and moved it closer to Numek’s face and poked him.
Yes, I felt that.” He swatted his finger away. “It’s definitely not Apotheosis but it is a small shuffle in the right direction." Numek walked away attempting to whistle which confused Ultarn even more. He started on his way back to his quarters when Grulahk walked out of the reanimation chamber and slowly walked up to Ultarn, he looked quite groggy.
You okay?
I need to have a chat with that Knight…
An Imperial Knight? What are you going on about?” Grulahk only looked up and behind Ultarn.
Establish a transportation center back to the Lance, and while you’re at it, I want a communications interceptor and these,”He handed a data glyph to Ultarn, “to be built.
It will be done.
Good to hear, where are our quarters?
Down the hall, make one left and it’ll be on your right.
Thank you Ultarn, have you seen Numek?
Unfortunately.
What’s that mean?” Grulahk adopted a skeptical look.
Don’t worry about it. Also, Shas’O Tach’Var is on the Lance, he wants to speak with you.
Ok, I’ll be there as soon as a Scythe can get here.
Grulahk walked off, probably to get to the surface. Ultarn cared not what the rest of the day entailed, he was confused with happenings as is, and he knew they would only get worse. He went to his chambers to get away from it all.

=====Conference Room, Eradicator’s Lance=====


They were in quite the exquisite room, it was adorned with many plaques and trophies along the walls. In the center stood a monolithic ivory colored table, at its head sat Grulahk who was holding some form of cigar. To his left sat Shas’O Tach’Var in the ceremonial robes he wore outside of his suit, he was holding some form of liquid, he swirled and stared at it oddly, wondering if he should indulge himself. Across from Tach’Var was Kageros, who was reading reports on his data glyph, his staff sat next to him leaning against the wall. Grulahk glanced around the room, it was silent with the exclusion of the vent towards the ceiling pumping ai into the room so Tach’Var didn’t suffocate. His gaze fell on Kageros,
Who are we waiting for?
Hmm?” Kageros looked up not immediately understanding what he said, “Oh, no one, I was waiting for you to start us off.
Oh, in that case let’s begin.
Tach’Var chimed in, “Let's.
So, Tach’Var, what brings you here?
Him.” He pointed at Kageros.He said he had an idea and that it was imperative that I come here.
I do, and it was,” He set down the glyph and waved his hand over the table. A hologram appeared on the table.”This, is my plan. It’s quite the undertaking and you, “ He pointed at Grulahk, “are going to need his help.” He pointed at Tach’Var. He looked at the hologram, then at the Necrons.
And how am I supposed to help with this?
We need your Earth Caste engineers and probably a lot of workers.
Well, I suppose Prin’shek can do without them for awhile. How long will this take?
I’d say maybe a year.
Right, I’m also going to call a few old friends.
Grulahk looked confused and turned to Kageros, “Who? Oh... OH... them.
You’ll know when they appear. His Legion is already on Crion. We’re also bringing in a specialist.
Who? Kag’, I don’t like where this is going.
I do!” Tach’Var was laughing. “All the talk they tell us of ancient unyielding machines of unstoppable death. HA, and here we are talking about construction… in a conference room…
You know, I see the irony of what your saying. We’re Kageros, you’re thinking of the Maynarkh or the Sautekh, maybe the Mephrit.
No, I’m Kageros
There was an odd silence before the room erupted with laughter before it died down.
Well, you both have work to do, I’ll contact our flayed friend and send Chagh to go find that specialist.

=====Command Room, Voor’Han=====


Kageros walked into the door and gazed around the room and at all the terminals. He looked over to the terminal where Grulahk once sat, another warrior sat at this space and mindlessly droned away analyzing information. He would have to resist creating another Nemesor and chuckled. Heavy steps moved toward him as Chagh and Zyfek entered the room,
Ah, Kageros, how is Grulahk?
He’s well, and your experiment is under way.
Zyfek and Chagh looked at each other and bellowed, “Good one, it’s not an experiment, it’s fool proof.
Especially now that you have Necrons, Tau, and those spikey humans working together.
Speaking of which, Chagh, I need you to go speak to our Specialist, I’ll go speak with the Flayed Lord.
You know where he’s at?
No, that’s why I’m here.” Kageros spun on his heels and walked to the command console in the middle of the room and started flying through files. “Found it.

=====Kasthanas=====

Kageros parked the Arbalest in orbit around Kasthanas. He got up from his throne and went to the Combat Information Center, he strolled through the door and pointed at a random Praetorian. “Ok, give me the word, where is he?
We’ve not located him but we have found one of his Captains on the ground.
Who?
Tyre, the Bloodborn, he’ll be-” The Praetorian was interrupted as a Lychguard ran into the room.
My Lord! They’re training weapons on us. What are your commands?
Throw the ship in reverse, fly us over Tyre’s location.” He turned around to the Praetorians in the room. “You’re all coming with me.
Kageros and his retinue swiftly walked into the hangar and readied for deployment as a Night Scythe was dispatched into the void. It took 5 minutes for it to finish screaming into the atmosphere. It’s cacaphonic wail could be heard overhead as it flew through the burnt corpse of what was once a hive. It disgorged its royal payload on a street corner close to a small convoy. Kageros and his Praetorians made their way to the convoy and walked into the open. Dozens of weapons trained on them before a voice bellowed at the Cultists, “Hold fire!Tyre walked out from behind a predator in his Terminator armor, "The Iron King." It was a statement, not a question, and the ivory helmet nodded once in respect. "What brings you to this fresh corpse of a world?" Kageros smiled, he enjoyed such respect when it was given, “I hear the seeds of the Flayed Legion have been sowed on the planet Crion?” Kageros walked up to Captain and clasped his arm, “My legion has also made fall on Crion.” Tyre's helmet tilted in contemplation, pausing in silence, or perhaps listening. "The Flayed Lord will hear your proposal. We do not take worlds, Iron King, we bleed them and depart. But for Crion...for Crion there might be an agreement." Kageros and his retinue walked with Tyre and his convoy while they discussed what Kageros had in store for Crion.

=====The Void by the Spear of Olympia=====


Vorhees stared at the pict display in mild confusion, which soon turned to annoyance. They were preparing to leave the neighboring world behind, their latest victim of their raids. The display showed a Harvester class necron ship just hovering next to his own fleet. The part that annoyed Vorhees was not any action it did, but its lack of one. The coin then dropped, and the raptor realized it must be one of the Kageros Dynasty, the necrontyr who had assisted the old Warsmith five years ago. "Send a vox to them. See what they want." Vorhees growled, and gave a grim smile underneath his helmet as he watched the ship's captain's scramble to obey him.

Chagh sat on the Harvesters throne as a Praetorian walked behind him, “Lord Cryptek, they are sending us communication.” “Patch it through.” A metallic voice began to boom over head,
This is the Captain of the Spear of Olympia, identify your-
I am Chagh, Lord Cryptek of the Kageros. I come to speak with the one you call, Vorhees.

What is it you want Lord Cryptek? My time has value.
I come bringing an offer from Kageros. He requests your...expertise.
And what expertise is that? I know longer fight under others.
No, no, you misunderstand Vorhees, you are an Iron Warrior, we request help in the building of something.
Chagh hit a few glyphs on the right arm of his chair sending the schematics to Vorhees’ console. Vorhees looked over the design, it truly was grand, far grander than what he was used to. He thought of the benefits that would come of this. As he was thinking Chagh began to speak again, “You will be working with Nemesor Grulahk, and Shas’O Tach’Var and will have the labor and materials you’ll need. All we require is your expertice.” That really got Vorhees thinking, he would be able to call upon the Kageros in the future, and if this plan goes through, they would be a very powerful allie. The prospect of working with Tau as well really peaked his interest, perhaps their influence was larger than he anticipated.
Ok Cryptek, I’ll do it. When I call on you in the future, and I will, I’ll be expecting you to answer my call.
We’ll send a Scythe to pick you up and transport you to Crion. Welcome to the next Crusade.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/03/19 03:22:16


Post by: Sgt. Vanden


"We cannot simply do this! This shall only bring war to us!" Iodius was outraged at the prospect that these warriors in this crusade were being accused of heresy. Captain Ceasar just stood there, shaking his head.
"If your accusations are correct Inquisitor, then we shall require more evidence before we can commence their executions. I for one, shall vouch for them, as I have seen them, and the way they act holds no account for what you accuse them of doing. They at least should look like they are hiding secrets, and I am good at spotting it." Ceasar was always the more level-headed one out of the bunch, and Iodius saw him as a god-send.
The Inquisitor mearly stood there. His presence was chilling, even for Iodius, who usually had the same effect on other people.
"I shall look into this matter more. When I find evidence, you and your fellow Space Marines will kill them." With this the Inquisitor turned and promtly walked out of the room.

Admiral Lukas Klambert was the first to speak.
"If what he says is true, and I'm not saying that I want it to be, how could we ever justify this with Terra? We're on shaky ground as it is, and the slaughter of one of the Imperium's finest soldiers will push us over the line. I for one, ask if we can talk to our other Astartes brethren over this." A stickler for procedure, the admiral was a strict addherant to the Index Astartes, and this matter had pushed him almost over boiling point, the notion of heretics in the Imperiums forces around Crion...Perposterous...
"No, the Astartes accompanying us are bloodthirsy zealots. I could not see them being of any use for advice. Oh Emperor damn his soul...If only Aladar was here, he would know what to do..."
"But he isn't Ceasar, and we cannot change that in this point of time. We shall look at whatever evidence the Inquisitor comes up with, then we shall weigh up our options." Iodius spoke in his commanding voice. He had been put in command of this crusade, and he would need to make decision himself. "Leave me, I have much to think about." The occupants of the room bowed and he returned them. All had left the room, all except one. The black figure sat silently in the corner of the command room, its left portion of its visor was broken, and a bright red glow was being emminated from it.
"I take it your staying?" He spoke to it, but once again, it remained there, silent, unmoving, unfeeling. "Silence is consent, I believe the old saying goes..." It had followed Iodius where ever he went, ever since that encounter with the Blood Axe storm boys, he had cleansed himself dozens of time, and yet, it persisted. It had become a common reoccurance, and yet Iodius had gotten used to it, but something still knawed at the back of his mind, something that did not sit well with him. Something was wrong with this campaign, but he couldn't put his finger on it...

Sssooon, Oh so ssssooooonn...

Iodius sprung backwards and held out his crozius, the voice seemed to come from everywhere, and no where at the same time. He turned to face the apparation, who, to his surprise, had cocked its head slightly to the right, as if in...Confusion...

Iodius sat back down and held his head in his hands. Something was very wrong indeed...


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/03/19 13:59:38


Post by: jhe90


A Yarl prepares for war

Sat back in the large wooden chair, throne to a smaller human made of dark Ferasian iron wood, thick rough and hewn by axes from its primal form burnt black in a raid on his tribe the Yarl had recovered it years later claiming it as heir to the chief of the Night Bears. Still visible the carved forms of the snarling bear carved into the iron hard wood by his grandfather, the dent in the arm where his father’s ring had knocked against it and repairs and studs Agmar himself had worked into its form to restore it partly yet still left its blackened wood to respect its own saga and past. Such would disrespect its spirit.

Laying on the dark wooden desk topped by roughly carved black granite lay a bolter cleaned and immaculately maintained, hand made for the Yarls size and grip not quite the power of the marines legendary weapons but still of a fierce recoil and hardly lacked for the power to stop anything short of a space marine. Leaning back after fitting the last pin and racking the smooth action to test its function, perfect as every time it was used, never failing to serve the Yarl in war. It was perfect, he was not. Once a candidate for the chapter he lacked none of the skills or drive to perfect his martial abilities of destruction yet it had been his body that rejected the implant, part marine, part human driven to a perfection he could never attain.

It was a old gripe many times he had debated it with himself deep into the night, his soul torn by the conflict, yet now he had no time to indulge that though.

The tools of destruction

Donning the heavy carpace armour plates, such weight would slow down a lesser man of smaller size yet to him each heavy slab was but a mere inconvenience to movement, every single part custom made for his size and strength and could stop a bolt shell. Over the thick armour he wore thick and rough native leather and furs, despite all the advanced equipment he still respected the old ways. Heavy adamntium shod boots all designed to wistand damage and last for years despite the harshest conditions came next and finally to his helmet.

Once he wore a simple helmet, now it was not. Hand made into the form of a snarling bear in black metal work, teeth illuminated in gleaming gold and eyes glowing faintly green from the built in night vision lenses. Concealed in the muzzle a full rebreather mask for hazardous environments. Locking it into the slots and flipping it back so it was open faced. He suffered the same as any Space Wolf, despite advanced senses the enclosed helm interfered with his instincts they so relied upon.

Striding out of his quarters bolter strapped on to his chestplate and mighty war axe strapped across his back stopping to make one last check. Pistol, knives, grenades and a large calibre snub revolver concealed in his bot. It was to be a duel of honour but they would be ready come anything hoping to never need to fight this day.

Wotan Diplomacy

“Lord Stomclaw, all plans ready to move, Volund is ready to the run that operation, Vioarr is preparing to contact the Wotan as requested. The Blood Eagle is ready on your mark” Conan was leader of the Wolf Guard and second in command of the strike force, armed with a sword and heavy shield among other weapons he would be in charge of security for the meeting. “Permission to rally the guard my lord” “Granted Conan, tell Floki to get Mangi, Midgard and Ivars Kraken Slayers too, we take no chances”

Knights tread upon the mountains


Meanwhile in Amanda Valorns quarters aboard ship she was startled by a knock at the door, dressed in full plate and armed for war Yarl Agmar waited for her. “Amanda Valorn, Lord Stormclaw requests your help on a mission, ready your Knight suit but keep triggers tight, its a diplomatic one. “ Surprised but glad to be doing something real at last. “Il be ready Yarl Agmar” again noting his size, a bolter, few non power armoured humans could even fire one. “i see your planning for the worst, not getting negative on me are you “ she joked, he always seemed to plan for the worst.

With a booming laugh in reply “Planning not hoping. Wolf Priest Vioarr is one of the few on this entire planet who can speak Wotan. Cannot be losing him can we. Come with me, grab a Caffine and il get you fully briefed on the mission and your role. Also show you where we officers get decent food” He added with a smile, despite shear size and clad in full armour he still could express some charm.

Into the Wotan mountains


The Wotan mountains where rugged, rough and thickly forested despite there white peaks towering above and bare rock faces giving no cover from the harsh weather. It was much like home as the Blood Eagle flew past alongside the bulky knight transport escorted by wings of gunships and transports that carried the Wolf lord’s escort. “Lord Stormclaw. LZ, 2 minutes off. Everything is ready to roll on your mark. Clearing scouted. All teams ready to make combat drops. Nodding his approval a pre planned serris of complex landings began with a speed and level of control only space marines where capable of.

The clearing was wide, no trees here. All open ground surrounded by a ring of old stones carved into the forms of dragons, drakes and other beasts. The “Dragon riders” had returned from the times of legend to the ancient place of meeting. Lord Stormclaw and Vioarr agreed. This place was once a meeting point for recruitment of the old chapter. Clad in thick native skins and roughly tanned leathers covered in rough forged metal plating and chainmail the tribes king bore a mighty power fist carved into the form of a Dragons skull and long braided hair. The longer the braid, the longer undefeated, his showed he was of formidable prowess in battle. Raising his power fist in salute he walked up to slowly and stopped at a worn and cracked stone area in the centre of the clearing.

Raising weapons in matching Salutes Lord Stormclaw strode forward bearing his relic wolf claw and Vioarr followed a step behind as both sides forces watched with great tension and kept weapons tight but everyone was primed to fight at a seconds warning.

“Greeting King of Wotan. The Wolves bear no hostile aims. “ “Lord of Wolf, we concur. Let us talk” Both sides began to relax slightly but still kept weapons tight, there leaders seemed to be able to communicate with Vioarr’s help. The wolf priests studies had paid off. “Easy Amanda, back your suit off like we said, slow and careful” Agmar instructed as he began to move his auxiliary force slightly behind the tree line. “aye, slow n steady. Left side. Wotan patrol moving your way. 10-20, 2 minutes” From the height of the Knight suits control pod she had the best view of the events watching both lines of forces carefully react and begin to try to lower the risk of conflicts. “Easy on them triggers, Wotan stopping”

It was not easy but Vioarr gained a good raport, and soon first contact began to work our for the better. It seemed like a eternity to those who watched and waited. The Two Lords shook hands and saluted like before as the assembled warriors of both sides began to breath easy, no one hand fired a single shot, no one had caused a firefight. “Stormclaw. Begin to move to Grimjoy. All forces move to Grimjoy.

Wotan legends

Deep in his camp, the Wotan King sat in silence debating the days events. The Dragon Riders had changed from the legends but they matched in size and form of meeting. Though the legend remained. They would return and that ment two things, the rebirth and golden age or the death of the entire planet.

Wolf Base is established

The flight back was boring, the best kind to the agreement of most. Wolf and Wotan had met in peace and now they headed back to the space port just outside Grimjoy Hive, pitch black as they landed bar a few powered lights they had brought. It was old, disused and dirty. Hangers roofs glass had long broken and drips and puddles filled there cold metal shells. The runway it self was cracked by plant growth.

“Some home Volund, what works” The Iron priest replied in a mechanical tone. “Aye, much to do. Power within in the hour, walls ok, sentries dispatched and the squatters dealt without any fuss. All in all, one week” “a week, it must be a ruin, go, i not use your time, the other issues can be discussed when we have light and heat. “ Lord Stormclaw knew when to let people work, such things could wait. Light alone would raise morale no end here.

Lights flickered to life in the control tower of the old space port, solid and still working it was being cleaned and stocked to operate as a barracks and HQ by Serfs and iron priests bringing its systems online. “Amanda, this way, your knights are safely set up in the hangers, we shall have them repaired in a few days. She was last on his list to show to her quavers. The new base would be Spartan for a few days. “id offer you a drink to a victory, but the bars dry and our supplies are yet to land in a few days in that regard. Things will take time to get set up” Pulling a bottle of Ferasian whiskey from a case. “kinda acquired it from your mess before we departed, wanna join me for a glass or two?” Laughing at the foresight, “who prepares for the worst eh, sure, we can remove this evidence with some glasses aye.

Taking a seat on some travel crates and a upturned case as a table. “Cold, no worries, i have furs and insulated equipment coming down in a day or two but enough of logistics, pour us some of that drink you stole! “

Grimjoy Hive

in the distance the hive loomed over the space port, tall and mighty in its past it was a shoadow of that now. Much of the hives lower levels where disused or sparsely populated and only the middle and upper levels where fully occupied. The Noble houses had not argued to hard against the new owners of space port, it was rarely used and the spires had their own pads and ships stored for their needs, Knights and Wolves would prove a useful detertent to trouble as the hives militias where badly undermanned vs the past, too few workers to serve to fill its regiments. Times were tough in Grim Joy.

Ferasian Whiskey

Yarl Agmar staggered out into the corridor, one glass had turned into rather a few more and the intended formal goodbye a rather long hug, the stress of the mission long gone but the hangover would be rather likely after the evenings overindulgence.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/03/19 14:42:10


Post by: War Kitten


The Knights march to war:

Moira Valorn stood at the edge of the tree line and scanned the ork encampment using her suit’s enhanced optics, noting the sentry towers and the crude alarm system that had been set up. Just a day ago a report had come in from the Space Wolf Strike Cruiser in orbit that a feral ork encampment had been discovered not far from their landing zone in the Kikkari Desert, and Moira had decided that it would be a suitable way to get her and her siblings accustomed to fighting in their suits. According to the data that she had pulled from the local archives this encampment was led by an Ork Mek named Slabkill. Moira just hoped that she didn’t mess this up. Sure, they had all been training in these suits since they were able to bond with them at a young age, but none of them had ever used these suits in anger, and Moira was determined to rectify that error today. As she watched several new runes appeared on her view screen, points of interest that the Space Wolf Scouts who had accompanied them marked. When battle was joined the Scouts would dig in on the nearby hill and provide support to the Knights, but for now they were merely marking targets. They would strike at the next change of the watch, and use the ensuing chaos to shatter the Orks and send them running. Her timing would have to be impeccable because, despite their crude appearance, these feral orks did still have some weapons that could potentially damage her suit. The Wolves had already marked the locations of several crude catapults and ballistae. Those would be her first targets, and she passed this information onto Sera and Cassius. They would not have to wait long.

The feral Orks at the front of the encampment never knew what hit them. One minute they were taking over the watch from the tired sentries, the next they were torn to gory ribbons as they were engulfed by mega-bolter fire from the cannon attached to the right arm of Moira’s Knight Castigator. The Orks beyond the front gate had scarcely a second to comprehend the fact that they were under attack before the trio of Knights smashed through the gate, and then battle was well and truly joined.

For the first time in her life Moira felt alive, and now she knew why her family had such a long and proud tradition of crusading. Simulations could never capture the thrill that she was feeling now as she and her siblings slaughtered the Orks, the righteous fury that coursed through her veins as she noted the positions of more Orks who had yet to feel her blade. To her left she noted her sister Sera as her Knight Atrapos’ lascutter flared, and cut a Giant Squiggoth in half that had been about to crash into Moira’s unguarded flank, and Moira raised her power sword in an informal salute to her younger sister. And to her right she noted her brother Cassius, as his Knight Acheron spat fire from its’ flame cannon into a massive group of feral Orks who had managed to organize themselves, and she felt grim satisfaction as she watched them burn to a crisp. Now all she had to do was locate and destroy the Catapults, and Slabkill.

She was jolted out of her reverie when she felt something slam into the side of her suit, and several warning runes appeared on her view screen as she turned to face this new threat. Another Giant Squiggoth had appeared, and had rushed past her sister Sera as she furiously fought against a third Squiggoth. The beast had slammed into her suit’s side and was currently chewing away at the knee joint of her suit, and while he hadn’t inflicted much damage so far, if she didn’t stop it, he would soon chew through the joint and send her crashing to the ground. The beast was too close to shoot so Moira simply raised her mega bolter and brought it crashing down upon the beast’s head, stunning it. Then before it could recover and charge her again, she swung her power sword in a brutal arc, and decapitated the Squiggoth, and that proved to be the final straw for the Orks. Shortly after Moira decapitated the great beast, her sister Amanda had sliced her own Squiggoth in half, and after seeing all three of their biggest beasts chopped down like wheat before the scythe, the Orks’ morale had broken, and they ran away from the metal giants that had brought death to their encampment. She had been unable to locate Mek Slabkill, but she and her siblings had dealt a ferocious blow to the strength of the Orks on this moon, and that would have to do for now. As she and her siblings began to make the long walk back to base she noted that she had received a communication while she was engaged. She noted with interest that she and Amanda had been invited to a banquet at the Governor’s mansion in a few days’ time. She put her thoughts about the banquet to the side for now, she and her siblings needed to drop their suits off at their base for some repairs. They hadn’t taken much damage, the worst of it being a slightly chewed knee joint for Moira, but Moira wanted all of their suits to be at prime fighting condition at all times, you never knew when the enemy might strike.


Spoiler:
First time writing for Knights, so be gentle please. This battle takes place in Khan, but these three Knights are going back to rendevouz with Jhe's Space Wolves at home base now.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/03/19 22:40:28


Post by: Tactical_Spam


The flesh-bound tome skittered across the floor loudly, sending dust and debris up into the air. It stopped at the foot of a throne that belonged to the daemon prince known as Ewrhyt'eikl. Ewrhyt'eikl was an ashen grey creature with broad shoulders and a pair of heads that never ceased to grin. Across his chest was a gaping mouth, full of wickedly jagged teeth, that housed a deep violet-coloured eye. Ewrhyt'eikl stooped down and scooped the tome, his Grimoire of True Names, off the floor and placed it in his lap. As he opened the tome and skimmed the sacred pages, the deliverers of the Grimoire grew impatient. The daemonette, Raak'tiil, once-Bloodthirster of Khorne, now Hunter of Ewrhyt'eikl, was the first to speak her mind.

"I grow tired of your silence, Ewrhyt'eikl. Why did you need this book? You already know the names of many daemons. What is in this here book that is so important?" Raak'tiil snorted, drawing a dagger to clean the blood and grit from under her fingernails. Ewrhyt'eikl noticed how meticulous Raak'tiil had become since she was bound to his will. He made a mental note to watch Raak'tiil more closely to assess what his will is asserting on her. He raised a hand.

"I will tell you all in good time, but for now, my plans must remain in the woodwork," Ewryht'eikl spoke from his second head. Both daemons before him, Raak'tiil and Pneuma Plagueborn, Interrogator of Ewryht'eikl, knew that this head could speak nothing but lies. Raak'tiil stepped forward in anger, her eyes burning with a bronze fire and her nose streaming smoke and cinders. It was Pneuma who spoke up this time, outstretching his seemingly frail arm to hold Raak'tiil back. His voice rasped coarsely as he bowed before his patron.

"I agree with my enraged friend, my lord. You have been withholding your motivation behind having us track down... four... five mortals and daemon who may have been in possession of the Grimoire. What is there to hide?"

"Everything," the mouth in his chest murmured, "My plans will not be undone if I am the only one to know what they entail... Now I must advance. My opening of time is short and I will not be delayed by the collective works of my servants." Ewryht'eikl raised his hand over the pages of the Grimoire of True names and sickly white bolts of energy shot from his hand and engulfed the book. Each of Ewryht'eikl's mouths silently uttered the words that were inked onto the pages. The air within Ewryht'eikl's domain grew dark and the whispers of daemons laced the shadows. Their voices taunted the greater daemons in the room. Raak'tiil drew her great axe and challenged the voices in the dark. Pneuma lowered her axe in a foolish attempt to calm her. Before Raak'tiil could assault the darkness, Ewryht'eikl finished and the darkness swept into the bodies at his feet, the bodies of the humans and Astartes he slayed to take his throne. One by one, with their rigor mortis laden, skeletal bodies straining to move, they rose and faced Ewryht'eikl. Each one was cloaked in the shadows of a daemon, whom possessed the body of the deceased.

"You have summoned the dead..." Raak'tiil said defiantly, axe still drawn, eyes scanning the room in disgust, "This is most dishon-"

"DO NOT QUESTION ME!" Ewryht'eikl's mouths boomed in unison. He almost stood up out of anger, but his temper was restrained apart from the momentary outburst. Raak'tiil bowed in submission and apologized for her insolence. Ewryht'eikl sighed, "Take these, the Absents of Ewryht'eikl, and find me the Razor of Esekuur, the Tranquil Rose of the Heshlik Gardens and 6 human virgins who possess some degree of psychic aptitude."

"It shall be done, Ewryht'eikl," his servants declared, their voices resounding throughout the room. Ewryht'eikl chanced a smile.

"I will have the Watcher at last..."


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/03/19 23:11:18


Post by: 2BlackJack1


Ta'lok ghosted through the grasslands surrounding the mansion, mirroring the way it bent and swayed with the wind. He had already slipped past the first set of guards, letting Mal'caor's barking draw them towards the forests while Ta'lok breached their lines. It didn't give much of a window, but it was enough for the Kroot to get past them.

Having reached the wall of the mansion, the Kroot tentatively tugged on the mass of vines growing off of the walls. No doubt it was meant as a decoration, but the Shaper was going to put it to a different use. It was child's play to scale the wall, and creak open the window, entering the Governor's vacant personal quarters. Closing the window, the Kroot proceeded to hide himself behind a large wooden desk, and wait for the governor to appear.

It was only a few minutes until the large doors swung open, and the governor's voice was heard, ending some conversation with another noble. Ta'lok waited patiently, and heard the doors moan shut, followed by the exhausted sigh of the governor. "More rebels. Of course. Of fething course." He groaned, no longer having to worry about others hearing his words. The Shaper waited until the governor was about to reach the seat for the desk right next to Ta'lok's hiding spot when the Kroot leaped forwards, clamping one hand on Paynne's mouth and putting a sole finger against Ta'lok's mouth with the other.

"Shh. I mean you no harm. No, I'll let go, but you have to promise to not shout. Understand?" Ta'lok asked, keeping his voice calm. The governor nodded once, his eyes a mixture of fear and anger. Ta'lok waited for the emotions to subside, and for the man to realize he'd only be released once he calmed down. Ta'lok carefully removed his hand from Paynne's mouth, and the general cursed. Ta'lok let the man continue his vulgar language for a few moments before lightly coughing to get his attention.

"I am Ta'lok, a Kroot Shaper. I have come to your planet, Crion, to offer my services to the Imperialists who need them or deem them useful. I hope to count you among that number." Ta'lok said.

"By the Emperor. A Kroot. And you're not here to kill me?" The governor gasped, still trying to catch his breath from the latest turn of events. "Alright Ta'lok, seeing as how you haven't killed me just now I have no other option but to trust you. I do have something for you, actually."

Ta'lok nodded, and gave the man a smile. "I have one request before we get any further, I am afraid. My kin have need of housing, but will not settle among any human settlements, for reasons I do not need to explain. Would you happen to know of a location? Part of your island does seem to be uninhabited, Governor."

Paynne nodded again, "Have at it. I'm sure your, erm, kin won't be terribly hard to accommodate. Now, on to business, shall we?"



Ta'lok looked at the two Kroot in front of him. Both had been hand picked to carry out the task of Governor Tobias Paynne. "No civilian casualties. I want this done quickly, and as cleanly as possible. Most following this man know what he is doing, and follow blindly. It is up to us to change that."

Both Kroot nodded. "Voshia, you will be the shooter. Torken, you are the scout. Make sure Voshia can get her shot off, and that no one notices your approach."

"The Tiller Rebellion will not live a day longer. We will strike the mont'ka." Voshia said, holding her head high with pride. Ta'lok smiled at the pair and sent them off.



Voshia looked through her scope, watching the sermon go on. From her vantage point on the building, she could not only see her target, but the crowds of people as well, all of them flocking to hear his word. The target, Edgar, was the leader and cause of the Tiller Rebellion of Kampf Anchorage, and it was up to Voshia to put him down. Edgar was illuminated by several floodlights, drawing every pair of eyes' attention to him.

"Where was the governor when we starved? Where was he when we were beaten? Where was he when the orks took our lands? Nowhere! He has forsaken us, and it's time to fight back!" Part of his speech had reached Voshia, and the kroot shook her head; it was all useless propoganda and downright heresy in the humans' ideals.

"That's enough of this," she whispered, "Torken, I'm taking the shot now." The second part was addressed to the Kroot crouched behind her, watching the hatch that led to their rooftop, the only way up or down the building.

Voshia steadied her aim, and exhaled as she fired. Her aim was true, but at the last moment Edgar had stoop down towards his crowd. For what reason Voshia did not know, but that was not what mattered. The bullet had flown past its target, and pinged against the wall behind him. The entire crowd was in a panic now, and Edgar had slipped into it, making a straight path towards his waiting guards and vehicle to get him to safety.

"Torken we need to go. The shot has missed, I have failed. The crowd will turn into a mob, and hunt down the assailants of their leader. There are too many for us to fight alone," Voshia said, slinging the rifle across her back. Torken nodded, and pulled the hatch open. Voshia looked at the mob below, and saw that they were closing the distance fast, and there was no doubt that they had found where the shooter had been perched. The pair then fled down the winding staircases, but the mob had reached their building by the time they reached the ground floor.

The pair ducked behind a bar counter, "What do we do now? We can't fight through them, and we cannot go back up. We are trapped." Voshia whispered, and unslung her rifle.

"Voshia, these are civilians. Poor fighters and driven by emotion. If we give them a stronger sense, they will fall back. We will give them fear." Once Torken finished speaking he leapt over the counter, giving an ear splitting shriek as he charged. Voshia followed suit, and the foremost of the civilians stumbled back, not expecting a sudden assault, or the appearance of an alien.

Torken kick the first human in the gut, sending him staggering back into the crowd before narrowly avoiding a knife that sailed towards his throat. "Humans! Fall back immediately'" he shouted, not because he expected it to work, but because it'd catch them off guard if they were being commanded. And every advantage one could get over the enemy was worth the effort, so far as Torken was concerned.

The advantage had allowed both to fight free of the crowd, but their escape took them deeper into the city rather than out of it. The mob was able to keep up with them despite their rapid movements, and various items were constantly clattering against the ground behind them as the mob threw them in vain.

"Keep running!" Torken shouted, close behind Voshia as they fled deeper into the city. From behind her, Voshia heard the crack of a bolt gun, and a squawk of pain. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Torken lying on the ground, a crater where his back was. His eyes stared blankly outwards

It went against every fiber of her being, but she kept running. Torken was dead, and the pack had to know what happened. She couldn't save him from death, and to stay and fight would only mean her death as well, and the pack would not know any better about what happened. No, she could not stay and fight, though it took every ounce of willpower she had to leave. Voshia fled into the streets, and eventually lost the crowd by breaking into an abandoned building, using their lack of cohesion against them. The mob would lose interest without any sightings of their target, and lacked the organization and unity to maintain search parties. It took her a total of eight hours to finally escape the city, and rendezvous with the awaiting pickup team.

Edgar may have lived this time, but now he had gained the full attention of Ta'lok, and he had sworn that Torken would be avenged.

Spoiler:
Ta'lok was in Governor's Mansion
Voshia and Torken were in Kampf's Anchorage attempting the assassination


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/03/20 05:11:40


Post by: Sgt. Vanden


Iodius walked out of Encampment Belial. Behind him, 29 Space Marines, and another 15 scouts. Iodius needed to clear his head, the past few days being, Less than comfortable...What better way to do that than to explore more of the Moon? Iodius also wished for revenge against the ork nob who had disembowled him, so if they happened to stumble across any orks, Iodius could only hope...
"Milord, we have sightings of greenskins to the north, shall we make our way there?" A scout approached Iodius, obviously awed by the chaplains presence.
"Hmm, yes, we shall. Tell your sergeant to assemble your squads and set off before us. You shall be our vaguard."
"Yes Milord." The scout bowed and turned back the way he came.
They set off within the hour.

Two hours later...
"Any word from the scouts Manus?" Iodius was almost worried, their last transmission with the scouts was over 2 hours ago.
"No Brother-Chaplain, nothing, all we get is static."
"And I believe I know why..." Iodius lifted his arm and pointed towards a cloud of brown quickly moving towards the convoy
"Should we go back Chaplain?" Manus wasn't worried about their safety, they had rebreathers and could easily manage.
"No, we find the Scouts, then we go." The scouts were particularly vunerable to the storm, lacking both armour, and any way of breathing properly.
"Yes sir."

Several hours later...
"Can you see the end of this sandstorm?" Iodius spoke into his vox, his voice sounded loud in the helmets of every Marine in its proximity, even over the loud roar of the storm.
"No, sir, to be honest, I don't even know where we are! Our maps scrambled in this..." Manus replied, they had been travelling for a couple hours through this storm, and still had yet to find any trace of the scouts...
"Keep going, we have to get out of this soon, it can't span for more than a couple more kilometres!"

Several hours later...
"Sir?"
"What is it?"
"We're not (In Kansas)on the same island anymore."
"We're what?!"
"We are now on the island Kelper."
"But thats...a few hundred kilometres away...How..."
"No idea sir, but, I do in fact have some good news."
"What?"
"We found the scouts, they're battered, but alive. Oh, and your invited to a banquet at the Govenors mansion." Manus could barely contain his smile, Iodius reaction was glorious...
"Ugh...Send word to Strike base Belial...Tell them to pick us up..."
"Yessir, want to ask for some ice-cold refreshments from base too?" Manus snickered, he and Iodius went way back, and a friendly joke or two could be excused, but what came after that made Iodius angry. "You might need them for your old bones..."
*Whack*
Manus fell backwards, his nose bloody.
"Nice try Manus, but I'm not in the mood." Iodius stalked off, leaving the stunned battle-brother to pick himself up. Iodius allowed himself a smile, that would show him, at least for another day or two...

Pick up was an hour away. So Iodius sat in prayer. The apparation sat opposite him, staring into Iodius's soul once more. Iodius had gotten used to it. But he still, couldn't see into its left eye. The glow too bright to directly stare into.

Come Iodius, come to meeee...

The same voice he had heard in his chamber, the same taint. It was that of a Daemon. Iodius made the sign of the aquilla on his chest and once again bowed his head in prayer. He had to do something about this. The solution sprang into his mind, He would have to see his fellow astartes. A wolf-priest or chaplain of the Carcharadons would do. As he was the only chaplain alive in his chapter, he could not correctly administer the rights to himself...

You can't get rid of me so easily...Brotherrrr...

Iodius bowed his head to a small shrine to the Emperor he kept with him. He had to do something about this quickly...He couldn't handle it for much longer...

Spoiler:
Triggered


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/03/20 18:06:06


Post by: Sgt_Smudge


Shas'la Tsa'lan scanned the area with her markerlight. Her Shas'ui, Vio'fas, was sat in their Piranha, regulating the data feed incoming from the Piranha shoal. Six Piranha had set out from Sunstrike's forward base, alongside a wing of three Sun Shark bombers. The aircraft were circling over the Pathfinder's location, silently swimming above their teammates.

Tsa'lan switched her visual feed to infrared, tracking signs of abnormal heat. Aside from the colder trunks of ironwood trees, nothing flashed up. So much for finding a power source. Commander Skyhunter had tasked Vio'fas with locating a power source to support the base: the Earth Caste plasma-regolith batteries were lasting, for now, but a more stable source would be needed. They'd gotten several miles into the forest around the base, and nothing had been found, save for the extinct tracks of some large arachnid creatures. Vio'fas had called the shoal to a halt, and the Pathfinders began to scan for any signs of power or prey.

A Pathfinder spoke over the group channel.
"++Shas'ui, we have a sign of local activity.++"
The comms were shared over the squad channel: there was no need to individual channels. Tsa'lan watched as Vio'fas jerked upright in his seat and asked for more data.
"++Charred logs and earth contained in a stone circle. Someone set camp here.++"
Finally, something had been found! Tsa'lan's heart began to beat with trepidation, with the promise of success.

"Get a physical sample of it, Shas'la, and store it for recovery." Vio'fas ordered.

"Shas'ui, are you sure a physical analysis is necessary?" Tsa'lan muttered to him. "One of our drones can analyse the site themselves."

"Shas'la Tsa'lan - you've been a faithful second-in-command. Why do you now doubt my action?"

"Is it truly necessary? We know what it is. It would appear that the predominant energy source of the area is wood and charcoal. And we know that there are possible hostiles in the area. We don't even need the drone. We should pull out."

"Where's your sense of adventure, Tsa'lan? We're exploring new territory here, scouting the unknown. You should be honoured to have been in the vanguard."

Tsa'lan sighed. "I know, Shas'ui. But we've completed our mission, haven't we? There's no clean energy sources unless we scout further out."

"Then that's what we'll do."

"Vio'fas, we can't get reinforcements now. We can't afford to take losses."

"Shas'la, who's in command here?" Vio'fas spoke. An edge of anger flared into his voice.

"You are, Shas'ui. But should we not let the squad make the call?"

Vio'fas was about to make an angry retort when a large explosion ripped through the trees. Tau screams of pain echoed through the forest.
"Squad, report!"

"++Feral Be'gel, Shas'ui! Opening fire!++"

"No!" shouted Tsa'lan. "Get into your Piranha and get out of there!"

"This is your Shas'ui - maintain fire!" Vio'fas barked, asserting his command. Tsa'lan gave him a harsh glare from under her helmet, and began to run to support her comrades. A spear soared through the air towards her, embedding into the light armour of the Piranha. Vio'fas laughed and unslung his pulse carbine. Too late, both him and Tsa'lan noticed the thermal detonator strapped to it.

Their Piranha exploded, igniting the fusion coil battery. Vio'fas was thrown from the skimmer, charred and wounded. Tsa'lan was bowled over by the explosion, slamming against a tree.

Dazed, she tried to process the carnage around her. The Sun Shark teams were calling for target marks unable to pierce the leafy canopy. Another Piranha had been wrecked by the explosive spears, killing the pilots instantly as they fled. The remaining three teams were pulling back, unable to track where they were being attacked from. Shas'ui Vio'fas was screaming in vain for them to stay and fight, but it was no use. Tsa'lan felt nothing for him. A set of arachnid legs crept past the pathfinder, followed by yet more. A mob of brown-skinned orks, toting more of the spears and clad in chitin, ironwood bark and leather hide, rode past Tsa'lan. Their giant spider mounts offered no resistance to their Be'gel masters.

"Told ya dat the Boom Spears was a good idea!" laughed one of them.

The ork at the head of the mob turned to face him, with a snarl on his face. His spider was even larger than all the others and seemed to bristle in anger.
"MY idea, wasn't it?"

"No boss, it was-"
A hefty punch to the jaw sent the ork sprawling off his mount, flat in the rotting leaves. The boss greenskin dismounted and yanked a set of bloody teeth from out of the downed ork's mouth. Tsa'lan thought the ork was dead, but watched as it sprang to it's feet, wiped it's brutish face, and laughed.
"Of course boss. Your idea."

The largest ork spotted Vio'fas on the floor. With childish glee, he stomped towards Vio'fas.
"And wot might you be doing in 'ere? Wot kinda zog is you?"

The Tau tried to speak through bloodied lips. "I... I am Shas'ui Vio'fas. And you'll never take me alive, Be'gel."

"Dis iz Nogrod of Da Spida's territory, and he don't like whatever da zog you is tresspassin'. Now, how do you taste, pansie?"
The ork turned away from the downed Pathfinder, and his massive mount scuttled forwards. Before Vio'fas could react, the spider was ripping off his armour, and devouring his blue flesh, cloth and all. Tsa'lan tried to ignore his screams of pain, and slipped away into the trees. She watched as the feral orks remounted, and began to hack away at the smouldering Piranha. Shas'la Tsa'lan turned her head back and ran.

It would be a long way to the cadre base.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/03/20 19:19:08


Post by: Robin5t


Crion - Jorgon Sector

The world certainly did not look or feel unusual.

Granted, it was fairly full of lush greenery with plenty of land ideal for agriculture, so Feubryn could understand the strategic importance of it to the Humans, but he didn't feel anything. Not like the wild feeling of stepping upon an Exodite world and feeling the primal power of the World Spirit all around you, tingling across your skin - or the foreboding feeling of stepping into Comorragh and the malevolent, dark paranoia that seemed to hide in every corner and every shadow, or even the comparatively peaceful tranquillity of a Craftworld.

Yet, seemingly, somewhere on this plain, dull world, or perhaps one of the two equally plain and dull orbiting moons, was an unknown and catastrophic threat, just waiting to be unleashed by the first witless fool or monstrous malevolent to find it.

Operating on such frustratingly vague directions was always difficult at best – but, in his own humble opinion, Feubryn Valorbane, High Avatar of the Masque of the Blameless Culprit was rather good at improvising a performance.

He observed alongside Cuddio, his ever-talkative friend and advisor, as the Mimes serving under the latter busied themselves with creating a temporary abode for the rest of the Masque, who would soon arrive from the Webway. Cuddio wore a coat and outfit of black and white chequers – different from the brown, white and pink colours the Masque normally adorned and another indication of the Mimes' position in the Masque. Cuddio also wore the traditional mask of the Mimes – the face adorning the mask constantly changing appearance to represent different emotions.

“What do you think, my friend?” He asked out loud, “Can you feel any great, malignant evil? An ancient horror, sealed away, perhaps, or even a portal to unspeakable terrors beyond the scope of our frail reality? A tome of jests transcribed by a Farseer?”

The Master Mime stared at him, face-mask showing a questioning look. Then, slowly, he shook his head.

“No,” Feubryn sighed, “Neither can I. Were that it so easy! How go our preparations?”

“...”

“Indeed! I am glad to hear it, as the rest of the Masque shall arrive very soon.”

“...”

“Your harsh words wound me, my friend,” Feubryn reared back as though struck, “But nonetheless, I shall heed your request and leave your Mimes to their no doubt spectacular work!”

Cuddio shot him one last look as he turned to find the other member of the Masque to follow the advance party through the Webway portal to this world. It didn't take him long to find Dranc, the Death Jester of the Masque, clad in his traditional skull mask, bones and long coat as he stood atop a cliff face overlooking the jungle, one finger running across the blunt edge of the blade on his scythe-like Shrieker cannon.

“Dranc,” Feubryn remarked admiringly, “That is a masterfully malevolent pose and motion you have achieved! Have you been practising?”

“Indeed,” Dranc confirmed, “Waiting for the time when it would be dramatically appropriate.”

“And this is clearly it,” Feubryn agreed, “What are your first impressions of this place, my morbid companion?”

“I believe it will look significantly better painted in red,” the Death Jester replied, chuckling darkly, “We should get to work on that immediately.”

“Patience,” counselled Feubryn, “The rest of the Masque will arrive soon with Imryll. We will soon be ready to begin taking action.”

“And what action will that be?” the skull-masked harlequin grunted.

“What indeed?”

Both of them whirled around. Standing a few feet away, the female Harlequin in front of them wore a long, hooded coat, with a mask covering the top half of her face. She wore no obvious weapons to those not versed in Harlequin equipment, but to those who were, and the Great Harlequin and Death Jester certainly qualified, the Harlequin's Caress was clearly present on each ankle. The caress was a deadly weapon that sheathed the edge of your limb in a phase field that allowed it to pass through even the thickest of armour unscathed – it was normally a weapon worn on the hand, and to use even one on your feet would be extraordinarily difficult to master even for most Harlequins.

However, this mattered not to the being in front of them. A Solitaire was deadly beyond almost all other Harlequins – only a Harlequin King could hope to match one in single combat amongst their kind.

“Here we have the hero at the very beginning of his story,” came the sing-song voice of the Solitaire, “Ready to head out and take on the world with his trusty murderer at his side... but they know not where to go?”

“We only just arrived,” Feubryn pointed out, all traces of good humour gone at the sight of the new arrival.

She gasped.

“Setback! Disaster! The first obstacle arises, and it is one that is immune to both the slash of the blade and the sting of the shuriken! Who shall help our hapless hero in his pursuit of much-needed knowledge?”

She paused, grinning.

“Why, none other than our humble narrator, of course!”

“Why are you here, Fallacy?” asked Dranc, “I do not remember you being present when Imryll told us of her vision.”

“Why does any teller of stories come and go? To ensure the plot keeps moving, of course,” Fallacy replied brightly, “As for how I knew about your little venture here… well, consider it a storyteller's secret,” she tapped her nose conspiratorially.

“We do not need your help,” Feubryn frowned, “Leave this place.”

“Alas!” Fallacy cried dramatically, “The greatest of enemies has reared it's ugly head! The foe that has struck down Eldar uncountable has taken hold of our dear hero – hubris! The hero, unaware of the myriad of forces infesting this world, unaware of the allies that can assist him in his quest, unaware of the machinations of the servants of the Great Enemy, has turned down the generous and selfless offer of our notoriously noble narrator! Is our story doomed to end before it begins?”

Involuntarily, Feubryn felt his eyes narrow. “What do you know?”

“It is better to ask what I do not know, oh gloriously great Avatar,” Fallacy responded, now sitting in the branches of one of the nearby trees, several metres away from her former position. Neither of the Harlequins present bothered to put any thought into how she got there. “As the answer will be far shorter and I am afraid we do not have all day!”

“I meant,” Feubryn said through gritted teeth, “What do you know about the threat the vision revealed?”

“Ah ah ah,” Fallacy wagged her finger condescendingly, “That would be spoiling things! Instead, I will give you a hint – you have friends on this planet. Search for something a little familiar, and you will find them. Once you have found them, the pieces will begin to slot into place.”

“Friends? What do you mean by-” Feubryn cut himself off as he realised the Solitaire had vanished. He looked around for a moment to ensure she had truly gone and was not simply waiting for the dramatically appropriate moment to re-appear, before sighing. “No matter how often we speak, that cursed fool always manages to get under my skin.”

“She was correct about one thing, though,” Dranc pointed out, uncaring. “If she knows what we need, having her help would speed things up considerably.”

“I'm not sure it would,” Feubryn shook his head, “You know Fallacy's habits by now – everything is part of the story she is spinning, and she will inevitably extend the duration of events to make for a more powerful re-telling.”

“So until we know enough that we no longer need her,” Dranc replied, masked face staring at the Great Harlequin, “We play our parts. That, at least, we are somewhat good at.”

“Ever so humble,” Feubryn chuckled. That chuckle exploded into a joyous laugh as new sounds emerged from the trees – the sound of singing, cheering and laughter, as well as engines, “And behold! It appears the rest of our players have arrived! Come, my friend,” he gestured to the Death Jester, “Let us go and greet our brothers and sisters. Tonight, we celebrate the arrival of some much-needed colour to this dull, green world! Tomorrow...” he grinned widely, casting a look out at the jungle.

“Tomorrow, a performance like nothing this world has ever seen begins.”


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/03/20 21:29:07


Post by: Ezra Tyrius


“Tell me one thing, Zhoran…”, Gorgyron spoke softly, gazing into the distance.

“Why always the snow bases?”

The pair stood in the middle of a vast white plain stretching off into the horizon, minor snowstorms sweeping over the landscape. Behind them, a crew of Astartes was drilling through the thick layers of ice under Lord Breacher’s supervision.

Gorgyron shivered. He was used to cold environments -the interior Wandering Wraith had never provided much warmth, seeing as comfort wasn’t exactly a priority on an Astartes warship-, but the freezing temperatures of this side of Crion were making him wonder if some sadistic god had chosen to torment him through the weather. He knew his own patron god, beloved Father Nurgle, had no love for places like this as well, the cold being antithetical to the life -and death- the Lord of Plagues wished to bring to the galaxy.

Zhoran laughed, a thin cloud of vapour escaping his helmet grille.

“If I had the answer for questions like that, I probably wouldn’t be standing out here in the cold with you”, he replied, casually resting his lascannon on the snowy underground.

The sound of heavy metallic steps clanking towards them caused both Marines to turn their heads.

Approaching them was the massive form of Ancient Kordas of the Black Legion, one of the few Dreadnoughts the Remnants possessed. Unlike his Hellbrute brethren, Kordas never suffered the horrific flesh-change that usually followed internment in the daemon-possessed machine, although whether or not his sanity had been affected by the ordeal was yet a point of contention.

“BRETHREN.”

Kordas addressed them formally in his habitual loud manner. He kept walking until he stood only several paces away from the pair, only to stop and stare into the horizon as they had. His twin-linked Heavy Bolters sat inactive in his right arm, whilst the blades of the Power Scourge that formed his left clicked and creaked as they contracted and extended as they rustled softly in the wind.

“QUITE THE VIEW, IS IT NOT?” Kordas continued, as his torso slowly turned around while he took in the landscape.

“Aye”, Gorgyron groaned. “Wish it was less cold, though. But I suppose you aren’t bothered by that, are you?”, he spoke, his crooked smile hidden behind his helmet.

A soft rumbling rose from the Dreadnought's shell. “FEW THINGS CAN BOTHER ME SINCE I WAS INTERRED, DEATH GUARD. THOSE THAT TRY TEND TO NOT LIVE TO TELL THE TALE”, the Dreadnought replied, his laughter mechanical and worn.

“How goes the excavation?”, asked Zhoran, who trailed a couple of the Astartes working on the site as they hauled some more explosives to the excavation team.

Kordas grumbled. “SLOW. AS WAS TO BE EXPECTED. THE ICE IS THICK AND UNYIELDING. BUT LORD BREACHER APPEARS CERTAIN THAT WHAT WE MUST FIND LIES HERE.”

A shiver suddenly seemed to go through the ancient machine’s body. Without a word, its torso turned and shifted, directing Kordas’ gaze towards the sky. He stood there, at first silently, but then Zhoran realized he was muttering something.

Zhoran stepped closer to the Dreadnought, perturbed by Kordas’ sudden change in behaviour, and caught the tail end of one of Kordas’ sentences.

“…is it you, Brother? Has the Legion returned for us?”

Before he could ask what Kordas was talking about, a shout was heard, coming from the excavation site. The trio saw a group of Marines hastily climb out of the pit they had been drilling, followed by a thunderous voice yelling: “FIRE IN THE HOLE!”

A plume of snow, ice and rock flew upwards as an explosion ripped the ground asunder, raining fragments over the Marines. From the hole emerged a cloud of greyish smoke, which slowly dissipated as the wind carried it away.

Gorgyron, Kordas and Zhoran cautiously moved to the edge of the dig site, each instinctively priming their weapons in anticipation. The other Marines did the same, slowly plodding through the snow until they all stood on the ridge and anxiously looked down.

From beneath the layers of snow, ice and rock had emerged a rockcrete surface, which now sported a mighty big hole. To everyone’s surprise, a room appeared to lay under it, which was now dimly lit by the meagre sunlight.

Zhoran’s boots clunked hard as he dropped unto the floor of the room. He activated the flashlight on his helmet, illuminating his surroundings. It looked like he was in the middle of a large hallway, the light from his flashlight not reaching either end of it. As the other Marines followed his example, he walked up towards one of the walls, which curiously seemed to be intricately decorated.

His eyes were drawn to a great fresco etched into the wall. It depicted a great dragon, whose eyes seemed to bore into his very soul.

“Lord Breacher, this is Zhoran. Tell the Commander… we found it.”


Spoiler:
The Remnants have arrived on Crion and have claimed the ruins of Site Delta - but what awaits them in the catacombs below the ice?


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/03/21 00:05:59


Post by: War Kitten


Lilliana paced around her quarters at her base camp as she contemplated the report she had received from Thirianna. Matters had become much more complicated with the realization that the mon’keigh that called themselves the “Charcharodons” had indeed followed her to this system. No longer was she just fighting one foe, now she had to contend not only with the Necrons, but with the Space Marines as well. With the other Imperials on the planet Lilliana knew that the Eldar could most likely just safely avoid conflict with them, but she knew deep in her bones that the Carcharodons would not relent in their pursuit of her. She had stung them badly all those years ago, and it was clear that they had held a grudge for all these years. They would never accept the fact that they had been in the wrong all those years ago. They would only see the fact that they had been hurt by the Eldar, and they would continue to pursue her in their misguided attempt to receive justice for their perceived slights. She sighed and rubbed her forehead tiredly. As much as she hated to admit it, she needed allies. The Warhost could not do this alone, they needed help. But from where? The Imperials wouldn’t trust her, and would just as likely shoot her if she showed up asking for an alliance. The Orks were too stupid to realize the true benefits of a mutual alliance, and asking the foul forces of Chaos for help would be equivalent to throwing herself into a pit full of hungry lions. As she contemplated this she realized that she felt the signs of an oncoming vision, and she opened her mind to whatever knowledge that fate had seen fit to grant her. The images came at her in a rush, as they always did, and it would be up to her to make sense of the torrent, to sort the false portents from the true ones. As she concentrated on her task the flood of images began to slow, and the true portents began to appear in her mind. The first one that she was a theatrical mask, similar to one an actor would wear. The second one was a symbol that Lilliana knew quite well. It was the symbol of Cegorach, the Laughing God. She had first seen it years ago, when one of the Harlequin groups had made its’ way to Iybraesil, and as the vision faded Lilliana grinned. The Harlequins of the Laughing God were near, and they would do nicely as allies. Now she just had to get their attention…

As she stood up from her meditative pose Lilliana contemplated the best way to get a hold of the elusive ones. They played by their own rules, and had their own objectives that were tpically separate from the goals of the Commorite or Craftworld forces that they fought alongside. But Lilliana knew that deep down they cared about their race as a whole, and so they would be the best choice for allies on this forsaken world. Then it came to her how she could get ahold of them, and she readied herself for what she had to do. She closed her eyes and began to marshall her power, she had to wait for just the right moment. There! With a grunt of effort, and a burst of power that lit up the room, Lilliana placed a psychic beacon that would appear in the Webway. Hopefully the beacon would be noticed, and then the Harelquins would come to parley. She leaned against the wall for a few minutes as she recovered her energy. All she could do now was wait. And pray.


Spoiler:

Just trying to get ahold of the Space Clowns don't mind me...


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/03/21 17:05:04


Post by: Sgt_Smudge


"Start from the beginning, Shas'la."

Tsa'lan was sat in a chair facing Skyhunter. He dominated the room, not entirely from his deactivated Crisis Suit, but his sheer sense of personality. The Pathfinder kept her eyes evaded from his, bowing her head in deference. She had been granted a personal audience with the Shas'O! Granted, this wasn't a thing that should have meant much, considering how open the commander was, but she still felt trepidation. This was Skyhunter, the one who broke Sunstrike's chains to the Empire! She had much to be thankful for. The whole cadre did.

Tsa'lan exhaled deeply, and recounted her report to her commander. It had been two days since the ill-fated recon expedition that had claimed Shas'ui Vio'fas' life, and four others. The rest of the team made it back before Tsa'lan, who was forced to endure the forest over the night. Her pulse carbine hadn't left her side since. She had reported about the orks' boom spears, and their arachnid mounts. Even better, whilst she couldn't find a better power source beyond combustion fuels, the cadre had a target. Nogrod of Da Spidas.

"This... Nogrod. Did you see him?"

"I don't think so, Shas'O. What we encountered was a patrolling party, I'm sure." Tsa'lan spoke. "He must be nearby, but our ground scan was inconclusive."

"So be it. Send a message to Air Caste command. I want three wings of Sun Sharks escorted by Razorsharks to do a wide range sweep of the area. We will find this Nogrod."

Tsa'lan nodded and began to scurry out of the door.
"Tsa'lan?" Skyhunter's voice stopped her.

"Yes, Shas'O?"

"Your squad is bereft of a Shas'ui, is it not?"
Tsa'lan nodded.
"Not any more. You are dismissed, Shas'ui Tsa'lan."

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Nine aircraft glided over the forest canopy, their engines screaming silently. Recon drones, controlled by Pathfinders from back at Cadre Command, were dispersed over the forest, being guided to new locations by the Sun Sharks' markerlights. Thus far, old camp sites and feeding grounds had been marked, but no lasting bases. Skyhunter was about to call off the search for another day when one of the drones detected a group of the spider riders. Before the bombers could scramble to deal with the threat, Skyhunter barked over the comms.
"Let them pass. All wings, pull back to Cadre Command. They will lead us to their leader."

The Shas'O's word was obeyed instantly. All nine aircraft, and the other drones, pulled back, leaving the single recon drone to tail the orks. It hung behind them, darting from tree to tree and snaking across the leafy floor. The feral greenskins didn't see a thing.

Gradually, the forest began to thin out, and the thick boughs of ironwood were becoming replaced by ruined pillars of ferrocrete and plasteel. Cobwebs hung from the blasted ruins, littered with leaves and small insects and birds.

"Shas'O, architectural scans of these ruins are similar to Gue construction. These are Adeptus Astartes ruins."

"You are correct," Gue'Vesa'El Vandred growled. "These belong to the Emperor's Space Marines. Long gone and dilapidated, but there were once Astartes in these ruins. If memory serves me well, the Blood Dragons Chapter was stationed here. I don't think I ever knew what happened to them."

"Hope that it doesn't happen to us." Skyhunter remarked. His eyes watched the holoscreen intently, watching the mounted orks descend into a cavernous entrance in the centre of the ruins. It seemed to lead into the very bowels of the earth. "Follow them in. I want to know what we're dealing with."

The drone descended into the shadows, silent as the grave. It switched to infrared, watching the chitinous creatures scuttle into the depths of the ruins. It stopped, hung in mid-air, and refused to move any further.

"It...appears to have caught on something. Something sticky."

"A web. It's got caught it a web." Skyhunter sighed.

Over the lens of the recon drone, a thick, spindly limb swam into vision. They managed to see the hairs bristling off of it, before the drone visual feed went blank. Static washed over the assembled Tau.
Skyhunter kept his eyes locked on the holoscreen. The rest of the command cadre looked to their commander for orders.

"Mobilise the cadre. Prepare an Optimised Stealth Cadre and two Infiltration Cadres to stakeout the location. Only engage unless absolutely necessary. The rest of the cadre will strike from the sun."


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/03/21 17:08:04


Post by: TheEyeOfNight



++BATTLESHIP NARAKA//KASTHANAS SYSTEM++

“Did you hear? The Necrons spoke to Tyre!”

Bukhis, champion of the Flayed Legion, slowly raised his head from the table at which he worked. His shield, an iron slab bearing the eight-pointed star in dense brass, lay on the table before him. A long series of runes and sigils were daubed on in a slow spiral emanating from the star, and his fellow champion's entrance had just interrupted his ritual. The duelist charged into the room, kicking the door aside and proclaiming the news as if it was the fall of Terra itself.

“The Necrons, Bukhis!” The duelist's sneering face was distorted in delight, and the slender horn which erupted from one side of his skull cast a shadow over the runes on Bukhis' shield. “The rumors say it was one of their weapons which wounded Him.”

“One of many rumors on the matter.” Bukhis lowered the fragment of bone he had been using to inscribe the runes, deliberately not looking at his fellow Legionnaire. “I know your mind, Medraut. And you know I've not the patience for this.”

Medraut was in front of him in an instant, hissing through teeth bared in ambition. His voice was lower, as if that would somehow safeguard whatever words issued from his tongue.

“Think of it, Bukhis! If they hurt him once-”

“Enough.” He rounded on Medraut, silencing any further elaboration. “If they did, and if they could again, it would end no differently. The Flayed Lord commands a legion, and a thousand worlds lie dead in our wake.” His head tilted in amused consideration. “What tales have you heard of the one who wounded Him?”

Medraut spat a glistening glob of bile which ate into the rusted metal of the deck. “Gods take you and your mewling fear! He is not so immortal as you think!”

“You want to prove yourself of tougher mettle than He, then?” Bukhis chuckled, lifting his shield from the table and turning towards the door. He gestured with his arm, and a small object clattered to the floor at Medraut's feet. “Take the Mark.”

Medraut glanced down, to where the Bull had dropped a slender flensing knife onto the deck: the ritual flaying tool carried by each of the Legion. His eyes lingered on it, longer then they should have, before he violently kicked it away.




++HIVE COGGER//GOVERNORS SPIRE++

A piercing scream shook the walls of the Hive Cogger palatial spire, a mixture of pain and despair that would have chilled the city's defenders if any had still lived. It was answered by the frantic pounding of feet, and the chaotic shouts of too many people trying to stifle an emergency.

From the window of the governor's throne room, Lazarus waited until he heard the gathering of rebels moving back down the hallway before calling out. The chaos was less, and the screaming was now muffled, but it was decidedly still present. “What is it?”

One of his cultists shouted back as they dragged a panicking body past, struggling to restrain him and keep a mass of cloth pressed to his neck. "It's Jerimoth, Father! He tried to take the Mark!"

"Damned fool." Lazarus shook his head slowly, not bothering to turn around. In the aftermath of every major victory, there were those in the Brotherhood who attempted the ultimate display of loyalty to the Flayed Lord: taking the Mark by ritually skinning their own faces in deference. It was enough of a challenge for one of the Astartes to complete the ritual, and every human who had attempted had perished of shock or bled out before they could finish.

Another set of footsteps approached, more hesitant, and Mordecai's muffled voice called out from near the throne. "Father, I've news from the comm channels."

"The Amaranth?" Lazarus asked immediately, though whether it was hope or fear in his voice was difficult to determine. Regardless, Mordecai shook his head, stepping forward with a list of hastily scribbled notes and diagrams.

"No, Father. But many forces have assembled themselves around this world, and they have yet to suspect that their communications are-"

"So I have heard." Lazarus stared out away from the throne room, as if he had only barely heard the man's report "A great corpse gathers many scavengers." He spat the proverb as if it burned his tongue to say it. Mordecai waited another moment before continuing, offering the paper out like a peace offering as he approached.

"I've been breaking out the codes and callsigns, Father. This corpse brought some familiar feeders."

Lazarus took the sheet, his left eye flaring brightly as it recorded the information. His natural eye narrowed as he read the list and the full scope of this war began to form in his mind. he stopped suddenly halfway through the list, and flexed his hand slowly, feeling the solid bronze ring set around one of his fingers.

"Trouble?" Jael called out as she entered the throne room, carrying her own report in one hand. She had traded her flowing noble gown for the same beaten leather and improvised armor as the rest of the Brotherhood.

"No." Lazarus spoke thoughtfully, without the usual brace of confidence in his voice. "Just an old ghost."

She stopped, raising an eyebrow at the list as she sensed his uncertainty. She exchanged a glance with Mordecai, but the man's expression, as always, was hidden behind his white mask. "Is this a ghost He should know about?"

There was another long, agonizing pause before Lazarus answered. "Not urgently. But put it into the next comm burst:” He raised his head to the distance. “House Valorn knights are on Crion."



++DUNBAR MOUNTAINS, OUTSKIRTS OF DRAKES POINT++

The refugee camp was a sea of beleaguered humanity, stretching in every direction and piled atop itself in front of the massive walls of Drake's Point. Most of them were survivors of the uprising in Hive Cogger, though a few had been picked up from fleeing the other conflicts along the way. They were not allowed into the city, but the local government had allowed them to set up temporary shelters in a vast camp. And, thought Isaac, a decent moat of bodies to bog down any attackers.

Freshly disguised as a PDF Captain, Isaac adjusted his flak vest for the fourth time since they'd stopped. It didn't fit right, and he couldn't understand the Gordian knot of straps and buckles that were supposed to adjust it. It certainly passed a visual inspection, but every time the Chimera hit a bump on the road to Drake's Point, the stiff chest protection caught him in the chin and clacked his teeth together. On top of all that, the PDF Captain's hat he wore was just slightly too small, and it was beginning to give him a headache from pressing in on his temples. It had been a very long road from Hive Cogger, herding the thousands of refugees towards the planetside transport, then pushing them the last dozen kilometers to Drake's Point. All of it was a giant feat of misdirection, a Trojan horse to sneak Isaac and his fellow rebels into the capitol city.

The cheerful Drake's Point Lieutenant directing the vehicles was more than happy to handle the logistics of offloading the stolen PDF vehicles. The man's demeanor was insufferable, but the guardsmen of Drake's Point had been ecstatic once their city was reinforced with off-world Tempestus Scions, of the legendary 85th, no less. He had no inkling that the "Captain" he spoke to was actually one of the cultists who had brought down Hive Cogger, and at the rate he was speaking, he'd never notice.

"...would have liked to have cracked some rebel skulls myself, sir. Not literally, of course, I mean lasguns don't crack much. More of a melting-type thing, you know, sir?"

"Yeah, melted skulls, right." Isaac was growing anxious as, ahead of them, the last of the flatbed trucks disgorged its load of refugees, joining its partners in a grand, if sloppy, formation in front of the capitol gates. "Are we done?"

"Yes, sir, that's the last of them." The lieutenant surveyed his clipboard once more, gave it an affirming nod, and produced a thick, sealed envelope from a pouch at his side. "Command wants you down at Blackwater Bastion, sir, to reinforce the sentries. Boys haven't had a break since the greenies went crazy-face."

Isaac froze, blinking twice before responding. He had rather assumed they'd be allowed entry into the city immediately once the refugees were taken care of. That was his mission, and his soul clenched at the idea of failure. "Blackwa... where?"

"Blackwater Bastion, sir." The Lieutenant turned, pointing to the coastline back beyond the elevator. "Straight south to the Jagnar Coast. If you hit the giant sprawling ocean, sir, you've gone too far."

The momentary humor was rather lost on Isaac, as he struggled to maintain his composure. The walls of Drake's Point were in front of him, barely a rifle shot away, and now he had to turn back. "Right. Well...we'll reinforce, then. Ah, carry on."

"Yes, sir!" The man snapped a sharp salute and turned back towards the refugee camp. Isaac knocked on top of the Chimera with his fist, and called down through the cupola. "Turn it around, bearing south!" He scowled at the profanity-laced reply, and lowered his voice. "I know. But we can't serve Him by dying in front of the capitol for no reason. Take us to the Bastion." The vehicle chugged into motion, spinning in the mud as it repositioned its bulk to point away from the capitol city. All around, the carriers and wheeled trucks of the mock PDF force made a slow, barely-organized about-face and began to trudge south. Isaac glared venom back at the towering walls, and shook his head as it began to recede.

"We'll have to let the others do their part."



Spoiler:
Minor Victory: Successfully snuck the "PDF Forces" all the way to Drake's Point...where they were happily reassigned to defend Blackwater Bastion



Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/03/21 17:58:43


Post by: Robin5t


Fuebryn watched cheerfully as the Skyweavers of the Light troupe put on a rather exciting show - leaping from one bike to the other in mid air at high speed, each time the daredevils looking as though they would fall to their doom and each time just barely making it.

The Masque was in high spirits - well, higher spirits than usual, after arriving on-world for a new tour. Confidence was at a high, with even Dranc involving himself in the festivities without terrifying any of the other Harlequins. So far, they had not met any intelligent natives - just local fauna and Orks. The latter were seemingly present in force around the area they were located, so he intended to test their strength. Dranc had been eager for action since arriving, and would presumably throw himself at the chance - sending the vindictive and vengeful Dark troupe with him would hopefully persuade the Orks that the strange newcomers in their midst were not to be troubled.

His musings were interrupted by the appearance at his side of Imryll, the Shadowseer of the masque. With her holo-suit covered in robes and her mask covering her entire head (he was privately sure that she still hadn't forgiven him for calling it a helmet), she looked as mysterious and enigmatic as ever... "Imryll, my dear! I see you dressed for the occasion!"

"I have tidings," she said bluntly, "We are not the only Eldar on this planet."

...Until she opened her mouth, and the mystique disappeared. As one with significantly more talent at dealing with the here and now compared to weaving through the future, Imryll had developed a personality rather at odds with many of the other Shadowseers he had encountered. She was blunt and to the point, the substance to their style. It was one of the reasons he valued her advice so much.

This latest news she had brought, meanwhile, was extremely interesting to him. "Oh?" he asked, "Have you had another vision? Perhaps you saw mighty Asuryan, casting his watchful gaze over this world, or the planet's core roaring with the molten flames of Khaella Mensha Khaine? Or perhaps even -"

"-A psychic beacon in the webway," she finished for him.

He paused. "An oddly specific vision."

"It would have been, had it been a vision," she agreed, "However, it is simply what they did in an attempt to make contact."

Feubryn sagged in disappointment. "Once again, we can always rely on our Craftworld kin to make things as boring as possible."

"They all but addressed it to us," Imryll informed him, "They clearly know we're here. What do you wish to do?"

He stroked his chin. "The Fool already advised me that we had friends on this world, but somehow, the way she worded it I thought they would be more difficult to find than this."

--

Meanwhile:

"They just - they can't - they can't just call them!" Fallacy sputtered, "It was supposed to take time to find them! An amazing adventure! A mystifying mission! A quintessential quest! A japing jaunt into the jaws of jeopardy!"

She stamped her feet up and down in childish anger, protesting loudly to nobody. "And those boring Craftworlders just called them? How am I supposed to make this sound exciting when I re-tell it? 'Bravely, the hero answered his webway correspondence.' 'They heroically arranged a meeting place, fighting against great perils, such as the dreaded faulty connection.' Gah!"

She turned to the general direction she knew the craftworld contingent to be, and shook her fist. "Stop ruining my story!"

--

"Anyway," Feubryn found himself smiling for some inexplicable reason - a rather common occurrence for a Harlequin, "I believe it certainly could not hurt to see what our dreary cousins wish of us, and also to see what we can needle from them. Though, I must ask," he raised an eyebrow behind his mask, "How do you know it was the Craftworlders, and not the Commorites?"

Imryll looked at him flatly. "It wasn't screaming."

He shrugged. "A fair appraisal, then! I want you to contact them in reply. Make our message somewhat more... colourful, however, if you'd please," Feubryn smiled, "We have a reputation to keep, after all!"

She nodded. "What will you do?"

"I am off to find Dranc and the Dark troupe," he replied, "It seems we are merely the guests in this region, as it is home to a significant number of primitive Orks! Well," he corrected himself, "Even more primitive than they normally are. I want to send Dranc, the Shadow Duke and his players out for some, shall we say," he pondered over the wording, "Meeting and greeting. Yes, that's the phrase I'm looking for."

Imryll turned as he left, focusing her power to create their response - perhaps a request for a meeting in the Webway, combined with a hearty congratulations for finding them so quickly, while sprinkling in a few entirely invented, vaguely-worded hints about what was to come? She knew Craftworlders could not get enough of that sort of thing...

Spoiler:
Replying back to our less colourful cousins, annoying a Solitaire, and making arrangements to go Ork hunting. There ain't no party like a Harly party.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/03/21 19:07:00


Post by: Irishpeacockz


Ardan could hear the sounds of battle coming from a cave nearby. Assault squad Onòir approached carefully trying to make sense of the darkness in the cave. The sound of bolter fire echoed out from the cave, prompting Ardan and his squad to move in. The opening of the cave was narrow for space marine standards and Assault squad Onòir had to be funneled in one by one. This passage continued for another 100 meters or so where it opened out into a huge cavern that was light up by bolter fire. Tactical squad Fraoch were pinned down by primitive orks similar to what Faolan had encountered, most likely from the same tribe. These orks however, were armed with bow and arrows tipped with explosives. Emyr Glaw and his squadmates were crouched behind various stalagmites and pillars in an attempt to avoid the orks assault. With each volley from the orks grains dust and rock fell from the ceiling of the cavern. Ardan and his marines ducked in beside their brothers. "Ah Ardan nice of you to join us" the orks volley had stopped and Emyr released a volley of his own and ducked back behind cover, "so what is the plan ? " Ardan assessed the situation. "This cavern ain't gonna last long with this kind of barrage being thrown at us. That warboss couldn't fit through that passage either meaning an alternate entrance. We kill the warboss and collapse the cavern" another volley shook the cavern, "Although the orks might do that for us". Ardan peaked out from behind cover looking for a way to displace the orks that had him pinned, the orks were above them, Arsan spotted a path leading to the xenos. He turned to his marines, " Stun grenades and charge up the path, no jetpacks the ceiling is too low" he turned back to Emyr who just gave another volley. "Cover me once the stun grenades go out" Emyr nodded. Just like the xenos near the drop site Ardan and his marines simultaneously threw the stun grenades in the vague direction of the greenskins and charged. A chorus of bolter fire erupted to cover their brothers as Ardan charged the archers. Most of the xenos were still rubbing their eyes while one of them dropped his bow and was fumbling for his club, easy pickings thought Ardan as his chainsword roared to life. Ardan lunged at the semi aware ork and dispatched him quickly with a horizontal slash to the stomach and went to work on the other orks. A massive figure emerged from the deeper in the crumbling cavern which Ardan presumed to be the warboss, who was carrying such a big club it must have been a tree. Before Ardan could react Emyr and his squad were firing upon the massive beast. " Emyr plant explosives at key parts of the cavern" barked Ardan as he squared up to the warboss. " Eh, Space Marine get off my Island 'fore I crump ya real good" " Your island ? Then consider me your eviction notice ork flith" retorted Ardan as he dashed and striked at the greenskin's exposed knee. The ork howled in oain and started swinging his massive club wildly, Ardan's lighter armor allowed him to dodge the ork's swings with ease hacking and slashing every opportunity he got soon enough the warboss was bleeding from all over. Staggering the warboss charged one final time at Ardan who side stepped it and sliced at the orks other knee bringing the ork to the ground. Just as Ardan was gonna claim his kill a bolter round exploded in the orks skull, a disappointed Ardan turned to face a grinning Emyr. "Let's go Rymus charges are set". Assualt squad Onòir and Tactical squad Fraoch made their way back to HQ to announce their success. When Ardan arrived back he was suprised at the speed of Cadfael and his servitors. A defensive wall was almost complete along with a central command and a barracks. Ardan entered the office that would be Faolan'sand found a letter addressed to him, upon opening it he discovered that Faolan would be attending a banquet with Planetary Governor Payne and he would be delayed in returning back to base. Ardan slumped into Faolan's soon to be chair, time to secure the rest of these isles.
-----------------------------------
Scout Sergeant Turlach checked his gear again, then he checked his squads gear and then he check his hound Gair. He had been repeating this since they took flight. "Alright initiates listen up, our mission is to scout out the isle and mark out any significant threats we encouter, this is reconnaissance, we stay low and out of sight". Gair hated flying, Turlach could feel it. He scratched his beast behind the ear to comfort him, only a while longer now thought Turlach. The pilots voice came in through Turlach's vox " Northern isle in sight E.T.A two minutes" soon after a green light signaled the squad to get ready. The thunderhawk swooped in under the cover of darkness, offloaded it's cargo and left before anyone was none the wiser. Turlach and his squad embraced the darkness and began skulking across the north eastern isle. Turlach noted that this particular isle was more forested than the other two isles. Turlach found nothing of note here, it was empty bar the forest almost eerily so. He was about to call for evacuation when Gair picked up a scent. The hound ran off further into the woods with Turlach and the scouts trailing behind him. As Turlach was in pursuit he noticed paw marks in the mud, a trail. The prints were deep in the mud which indicated a heavy creature made them,Turlach followed them not wanting to return empty handed. The sound of running water and birds croaking alarmed Turlach after the isle being quiet for so long, a flock of birds flew off a half eaten/half rotten corpse of some creature that resembled a deer as they approached the source of the noise.Not the creature that made the paw prints, the beast that did that had this one for dinner thought Turlach and he bent down to examine the beast or what was left of it. Four deep claw marks were cut deep into it's rear leg cleaving through meat and bone almost ripping the thing clear off. Bite marks at the throat were also deep, must have been the killing blow thought Turlach. The beast's mid section was hacked and clawed so badly that little of it remained, Turlach could just about see a rib cage but all of it's vital organs were gone. Whatever this beast was it was big and powerful, gathering his squad Turlach called in for evacuation and made for the nearest clearing.
Spoiler:
Ardan and Emyr was on the southern isle while Turlach was on the north eastern one, and yes I did steal the idea of explosive tipped arrows, apologies.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/03/21 21:34:55


Post by: Kharne the Befriender


=====The Catacombs, Yankor, Luna Epsilon=====

Grulahk sat in a chair in the Combat Information Center and stared at the megalithic design before him. He looked over its form in reverence, truly it was humbling. The Tau were currently working on the beginning of the framework while the Canoptek Troops assisted with labor. Vorhees proved his worth by pointing out several weak points and providing instruction on how to fortify them. His mind wandered to the construction of the base they had began to call ‘The Catacomb’. Truly it was the beginning of a Tomb World, but that was not its purpose, it was merely housing and storage until a later stage in the construction of the Megalith. It would take much longer than a year at this rate, even the combined might of the forces at his command were struggling to meet their dues. He had read the reports of what the Imperium had brought to bear, Knights, Wolves, Scions, Arbiters, and Sharks. Much, much more than his forces could handle at the moment, he would need help, he would have to reach out further. Perhaps he would contact the Ta-
What a design…
Grulahk turned with frightening speed bearing his twin Void Blades. He gazed around the empty room.
Reveal yourself! Who dare prowls my domain?
He was blinded by an immense fire that had manifested itself in the room. It’s ethereal light failed to illuminate the room but instead shrouded it in darkness. He looked around at the surrounding darkness, then at the raging inferno of blue flame in front of him. He looked at it closer and swore he saw a flicker of a shadow at its center.
Reveal yourself mortal, so I may adjudicate your existence.
I am a dead thing. As are you.
Yet we both live. What is your purpose here?
I seek that which benefits us both. We shall be in contact Nemesor.
Who are you?
A Prophet…
At the last words the flame vanished, and the dark began to recede. When he opened his eyes Ultarn and Numek were standing over him. They helped him up and he looked to where the thing had manifested itself. There was no evidence it was ever there, was he going mad? Was he slowly losing his mind? Or was this truly an incorporeal meeting?
Are you alright Grulahk? You were out for a while.
Yes, I am fine. We have work to do?
He shook his head a bit before looking up and then at Numek… who now had what appeared to be a throat.
By the C’tan Numek what have you done to yourself?
My words exactly.
I’m attempting to achieve a higher level of Apotheosis.
You look scarier than I would have though. Do update me as it goes, I'm interested to see how it turns out."
Enough, I have need of information. I want you to scan all communications and traffic. Find out exactly who is on these moons and on that planet. We will have need of many.
But what for Nemesor? We have the Tau, we have our legions, if Kageros does his part well enough, the help of Chaos as well. We can defeat these pitiful creatures now if we wanted to."
"You underestimate our enemy Ultarn, if we march now we risk more than you think."
"We only risk our honor. Which we are losing every moment we cower in these tunnels."
"We are not here on combat operations, we are here firstly for the Megalith, then to reclaim the planet."
"You are weaker than I expected Grulahk, you and Kageros both. I refuse to idly sit here and let the enemy desecrate this planet with their existence." He paused a second before speaking again. "Your creation is obviously a failed attempt at-

By the time Numek realized what had happened Ultarn lay in several pieces and in several places.
"Cryptek, I want null field matrices through out this compound, shore up the defenses and make this compound impregnable. Have Vorhees help you if you need."
"Yes, Nemesor."
"And Cryptek..."
"Yes, Grulahk?"
"Search for someone known as the Prophet. I feel we may need his help."
"Will do." Numek walked out of the room hastily. Grulahk stooped over and picked up Ultarn's skull, he looked into it's eyes, it's cold dead eyes and chuckled.

"Perhaps we truly are all dead things."
Spoiler:

Grulahk met a prophet. Ultarn got sassy so Grulahk killed him. Numek is starting to look more and more human. Many things are being built. Is good day.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/03/21 23:56:05


Post by: Sgt. Vanden


Trial by Fire

"You would have us make contact with these zealots?! Do you not remember the last time we tried allying with them? They used our forces as bait! We lost over one hundred men, and all for what? The head of a farseer? No! We cannot expose ourselves to the risk ever again!" Manus was not pleased. A couple hundred years ago, a company of Marines from 'Dorn's Wish' had met with a battle group of Carcharadons. They had both been pursuing a Eldar Farseer and his warhost for a couple months, and they met in the same system. A alliance was forged, and they went to battle as one. They had fought the Eldar on several fields of battle, and yet the final fate was at the basecamp of the 'Dorn's Wish'. Unknownst to the Marines was that the coordinates of their base camp were being transmitted on a frequency almost all could find. And find it, the Eldar did.

The Eldar attacked at first light, and a battle quickly ensued. The Marines were heavily beset, and all calls for aid had been ignored by their so-called 'allies'. A manifestation of the Avatar of Khaine plowed through Marine ranks, and quickly killed their captain, Nero Sendominus. As the last battle-brother fell, a bombardment of magma bombs and drop pods slammed into the basecamp. The Carcharadons had broadcast the signal of the 'Dorn's Dying Wish's' coordinates, waited for the Eldar to wipe them out, and then attacked with extreme ferocity. The captain himself had walked away from the carrying the head of the Eldar Farseer they had been pursuing.

The now empty Strike Cruiser of the 'Dorn's Wish' left the sector, and with it, a grudge that would last millenia. The crew of the strike cruiser had seen everything, and were shocked to see the Carcharadon Strike Cruiser sit in orbit waiting to strike the Eldar. The once thought 'Allies' had abandonned them in their time of greatest need. And they would not soon forget it.

"I know Manus, but we have no other choice. They are servants of the Emperor, as are we. The will help us, we need only to ask." Iodius was surprisingly calm, and yet, his suggestion of comradeship with the 'Carcharadons' had surprised everybody in his War council.
"You can't be serious old friend, they cannot be trusted...Need I remind you what happened all those years ago?" Ceasar had tried arguing with Iodius, but was begining to see logic in his words. The multiple sighting across the world and it's moons were concerning, Chaos, Eldar, even Necrons had been seen on both Crion, and it's moons.
"No, you need not remind me...I was there...I would not bring this up if we had any other choice. I have made my decision, and as leader of this crusade, my word, is final." Iodius finished with a tone that made it clear he did not want to argue any longer.
"You are not fit for command Chaplain. You are old, and your mind is clouded." Manus's voice was filled with spite, he was a descendant of the Great Nero, and he would not stain his legacy by siding with those who had seen him die all those years ago. "I challenge you to a trial by combat. If you decline, then you automatically hand control of the company to me."
"Manus?! You cannot be serious! The Chaplain speaks the truth, we have no other choice!" Ceasar was astounded at his friends statement, but even more astounded at the response it received. He started moving towards the Marine, itching to make him pay for this blatent insult.
Iodius put his hand out to stop Ceasar from moving any closer to Manus.
"I accept your challenge Manus. If I win however, you are to be stripped of your rank, annd go back to being a Battle-brother. Also, you shall NEVER step foot in my War council again. You have shamed me so much..." Iodius spoke with deep regret, for he had not seen this coming, and was sorry to have made this decision. But nevertheless, he would fight.
"But...Iodius..." Ceasar was taken aback, the pain of watching a trial by combat apparent. "At least let me fight him...You needn't bother yourse-"
"No. I will fight him now." Iodius's tone was once again a final one. "We fight outside, infront of all the men. They shall know who to trust from then on."

They were all dressed in their ceremonial garbs, a symbol of respect to one another, that they would all fight on equal ground.
"The winner of the Trial by Combat shall be the one who draws wounds the other to the point of near death. Each wound will be inspected by me. If I find either of you unfit to fight any longer, then the other shall be the victor. Emperor watch over yee." Captain Ceasar spoke the words sadly, for by the end of this day, at least one man will be shamed for eternity. "Let the combatants pick their weapons now."
A collection of weapons were aranged on either side of the battleground, a hastily made circle surrounded by tents and other builings. Each one coated in a layer of paralitic poison, just like in the tournament of the 'Iron Cage'.
Manus strode up to the left side and hefted a large broadsword. Iodius however, stood where he had been. He mearly dipped his hands into a cask of the poison. It stuck to his skin, but that would ensure it would not wipe off.
"I have no need for weapons to beat you. You are untrained, and do not know when to shut your mouth." He taunted Manus, and it worked.
"Say that again after you lay in a pool of your own blood, old man!"
"SILENCE!" Ceasar roared, the threat was unlooked for, especially from one of status such as a Space Marine, who should know when to hold his tongue.
"Combatants, assemble at the opposite sides of the arena." They did as they were told. "May the trial, Begin!"

Manus started the trial just as Iodius predicted, but the speed he peformed it at nearly lost Iodius the Trial. Manus brought his sword in a wide arc, trying to secure the win fast. Iodius foresaw it and backstepped the blow. Manus continued prodding at Iodius, trying to use the superior range of the sword to keep the Chaplain away. Iodius was growing tired of dodgeing his attacks, so during the next giant swing, he mearly palmed the flat face of the blade down to the ground. He stepped into Manus's guard, hammering his fists into Manus's unguarded chest. Manus returned the attacks by throwing a haymaker at Iodius, who had to back away to dodge it. Blood trickled from a cut in Manus's breast, and instantly, the poison took hold. He seized up and fell to a knee, the poison flooding into his system faster than the 'Larraman cells' could clog it.
"Is this what the new leader of this company will be? Bowing to his opponent before the battle has even begun?" Iodius taunted, and the crowd cheered.
Manus felt his rage building, and lunged at Iodius with one arm hanging useless by his side, the poison taking its toll. He brought the broadsword in a huge arc once more, this time more sporadically, as his energy was being rapidly drained by the virulent poison. Iodius didn't move fast enough, and the blade bit deep into his side, embedding itself at least three inches into his torso. Iodius gasped for air as his left lung was pierced and subsequently poisoned by the blow. Iodius did not give in, instead, pulling Manus closer, so that he could pummel him even more. Iodius's hands fumbeled around Manus's neck for a while, but eventually he got a grip and squeezed. Manus's one remaining hand reached for Iodius's hands, but with his power failing, he was all but helpless in the frenzied Chaplains hold. Iodius dug his nails into Manus's throat, and the moment he saw blood, he let go. It was finished. The poison seeped into the wound and stopped his aesophagus. Manus fell backwards, struggling for breath, whilst Iodius mearly stood over him, the broadsword still deep inside him. It's poiosn had stopped his left lung, heart, and other important organs. Iodius stood until a pair of Battle-Brothers came to Manus's side and dragged him off the arena. It was only then, that Iodius collapsed. He had won, and all knew it.

The apparation stood in the crowd, watching the fight reach its last breath, and then, it was over. Iodius had won. The apparation was pleased, it had made a fine choice indeed. It watched as Iodius and his opponent were dragged off into their respective crew quarters. It watched it all unfold, forever silent, forever unfeeling. The Daemon would have to wait, Iodius had to rest before he could slay it. The apparation faded out of reality once more, only to appear in the dark corners of a room, its occupant unknownst of its presence. It sat in a nearby chair, and waited for the Chaplain to wake. In its hand, it carried a black purity seal, the word inscribed on it unreadable, but they would protect one from anything, even if just once. It would have smiled if it was capable of doing so, and placed it on Iodius's unmoving chest. It had waited several millenia to kill this Daemon, it could wait a little longer.


Iodius awoke 2 days later, his side bandaged. Captain Ceasar sat next to him, with a cheeky grin on his face.
“Took your time to wake my friend, had to convince the company that you were still alive several times.” They shared a bond more than comradeship, they had become brothers in the 400 years serving together, each one had saved the others life countless times.
“You did? Well, it seems I have to drill them in having faith in their commander more…They shouldn’t question if I’m alive or not…” Iodius was back to his old self, gruff, grim and with a very stale sense of humour. He made to get up, but Ceasar held him down.
“Uh uh uh friend, you stay down until you get cleared.” His tone was that of when someone is trying to teach a toddler what to do and what not to do.
“I don’t think so Captain, I and I alone dictate when I am cleared, you of all people should know that.” Iodius swatted away his hands and arose nevertheless.
“Worth a try…Oh, and about the Carcharadons, they made landfall on the surface of Crion not too long ago. Too far away to travel to by thunderhawk, and too time consuming to travel to and from several times just to parlay with them. Any other bright ideas that may lead to another duel?”
“Aye, several in fact, but if what you say is true, and I’d hope it is…Then the next best thing would be to seek out the Space Wolves.” Iodius’s voice rang with uncertainty, neither chapter had ever come into contact with one another, so this would be a first.
“Shall I send word to ‘Vex Calisum’ of your departure?”
“Yes, I shall be out once I get my armour on.”
“I’ll tell him to take his time then” Ceasar snickered, Iodius would have a hard time with his arm in a sling, but he would just call a few serfs to aid him.
“Very funny…” Iodius rolled his eyes, always with the snide comment…
As Ceasar left the room, Iodius found his eyes upon the apparition.
“Loyal as ever…You never even left my side did you?” Once again, no response, no acknowledgement. Nothing. “Talkative as usual…”


Aboard the ‘Vex Calisum’
Iodius and Ceasar sat in the pilots quarters, the back of the thunderhawk was empty, they had not brought any other Marines. They would be safe here, it was under Imperial control, and no xenos had been sighted here since the Wolves had made landfall.
A voice sounded over the intercom, his voice raspy, and had an accent that Iodius could not identify.
“Unidentified aircraft bearing position Delta-Gamma-Foxtrot, state your business or feel the wrath of the Space Wolves.” His voice had a tone of finality, and almost as if wanting them to be hostile.
Iodius pressed a button on the thunderhawks display, broadcasting his voice through.
“This is Chaplain Iodius Benturas, of the chapter ‘Dorn’s Wish’ (Feth me that’s a horrid name…). I seek an audience with your leader, I wish to broker an alliance.” No response. Both he and Ceasar exchanged a look of both confusion and worry.
“Lord Stormclaw shall see you. Welcome to Hive Grim Joy.” With that, the transmission was ended.

Their arrival was met by a less then welcoming group. The majority of their hosts were standing there with their arms crossed, obvious disapproval was lined on their faces. One in particular stepped forward, a giant of a man, with shoulders almost twice as broad as Iodius, bearing a power sword and a large shield, that roughly resembled a storm shield.
“And who may you two be?” He grumbled.
“We are seeking audience with Lord Stormclaw, would that be you?” Iodius mustered as much of a calm voice as he could.
“No, he is awaiting your arrival further in the Hive. I am here to inspect you, and if you would pose any threat to the Lord. My first impressions don’t look good.”
“Nor do I care. I am here to speak with Stormclaw, and Stormclaw alone.”
Iodius made to step past him, but was stopped by the giants arm.
“Only after I approve. I have seen your records, I know the majority of your forces turned to Chaos not too long ago. T’would be a shame if some people saw you as heretics…”
“T’would be a shame if you were one of those people, you might find something sharp shoved up y-“
He was silenced by Ceasar, who pushed himself in front of Iodius.
“What my friend means to say, is that he does not appreciate the words. We all have our Daemons, some turn to chaos, some mutate into hideous wolf men. Your not one to judge, Wolf.” Ceasar kept a straight face as the Space Wolf bristled at the insult.
“You do well to hold your tongue, welp.” He growled, literally.
“Or what? You’ll bite me?” Ceasar rose to the same height as the Wolf, taunting him to start something.
“Conan? Where are our guests? I’d hope you’re not giving them one of your lectures… “ A voice boomed out from behind the line of Space Wolves, he made his way through the onlookers and looked upon his second in command standing toe-to-toe with two strangers. “Are these the one’s I was expecting?” He had asked, Conan went to answer, but it was Iodius’s voice that rang out.
“Aye we are, and if you could be so kind as to restrain your guard dog so we can have a proper talk, that would be much appreciated.” Iodius was impatient, the confrontation with the old wolf had made him annoyed, and an annoyed Iodius was an impractical Iodius.
“Some envoy, you look for an alliance, and yet you bring conflict with you. Do you really think I would speak to one such as yourself?” His voice was harsh, and yet, Iodius’s was harsher.
“You would do well to do so, before I show this Puppy the treatment time wasters receive.” Captain Ceasar glared at Iodius, this was not going as planned, Iodius’s anger was getting in the way of that.
“You dare issue threats in my presence? Who do you think you are?” He snarled, his face a mask of anger and frustration.
“I…I am sorry, Lord Stormclaw, I lost my temper. Things have not been going to plan and I have not been tempering my anger with xenos blood…” Iodius had calmed, ashamed to have lost his temper and insult his possible allies. He turned to face Conan, who had also appeared to have calmed down. He moved his hand out in the form of a handshake (What the feth am I saying…), which was enveloped by Conan’s own hand. Iodius pulled himself closer to the giant and whispered in his ear.
“You speak of my brothers and I as heretics again, and we shall have a reckoning.” With that, he pulled away and moved towards Lord Stormclaw, who was half a head taller than Iodius.
“If you could excuse my outburst, I believe we have some talking to do.” Iodius’s voice was softer, and it seemed to work on the Great Wolf.
“Aye, it shall be excused this one time. Come, we have much to discuss.” He turned and led Iodius and Ceasar through the camp, drawing stares from the other assembled wolves. This is going to be a long day…


Several hours later
“So, it’s sorted? We forge the first allegiance our two chapters have ever had?” Iodius was hopeful, they had spent the past 4 hours discussing the threat to Crion, and they had reached a decision, they would fight alongside each other in exchange for stories to be told in the Mead hall of the Space Wolves. A good agreement for Iodius, who had plenty of stories to tell.
“No, we are not.” He stood up and made to walk out of the room.
“But how? Did we not finish the terms?”
“Aye we did, but there is one more thing I forgot to mention…” He walked out and motioned for Iodius and Ceasar to follow him. He led them over to a large building with carvings of wolves fashioned onto the mantle. “You must drink with me first.” He smiled, his pointed teeth grinding together.
“Sorry to be a bad sport, Lord Stormclaw, but I believe I must refuse, I haven’t drunk in the company of others in a very long time…” It was true, Iodius drank a bit with only the company of the apparition.
“Well that’s too bad, no drink, no allegiance.” His smiled faded.
“I guess I don’t have much of a choice do I…” Iodius sighed, there was no backing out now.
“No, you don’t.” Lord Stormclaws smiled pasted itself back onto his face.
“I’m in, I haven’t drunk in a very long time, mostly because I didn’t have reason to” Ceasar chimed in, he was giddy, sealing an allegiance that would last millennia with a nice cold flagon of Fenrisian Ale.
“Good, you two shall find a hangover unlike anything you’ve ever experienced in the morning!” With that, he barged into the hall and shouted “Alright lads, we got visitors, let’s make em welcome!” A group of Space Marines came out of a room with several flagons the size of a small dog. Iodius looked at Ceasar.
“Only one, then we leave.”
“Sure sure Brother, only one…”
Lord Stormclaw smiled to himself, that’s what they always say…

As he predicted, one drink turned into two, which turned into four, which turned into twenty. Soon both Iodius and Ceasar were singing along with the Wolves. One more drink and Ceasar found himself unconscious on the ground of the hall, with a horde of Wolves and even the Chaplain laughing at him. Several more, and somebody thought it would be wise if Iodius challenged Lord Stormclaw in a drinking competition, who had never been beaten.
“I chawwenge you, Worrrrd Stowmcwaw, to a twial…by dwinking!!!”
“I accept yuurrr challenge Brother…May the best wolf…Win!”
And with that, the two began. Soon, another 10 drinks were downed, and it would have kept going, if somebody didn’t accuse Iodius of cheating. He sprang into action and brought his mug down on the accusers head. A brawl quickly ensued, and soon the majority of the occupants lay unconscious on the floor, all except Lord Stormclaw and Iodius, who were leaning on each other and singing ‘Row row row your boat’. Where they merely hummed whatever words came to their mind at the pace of the song, which roughly sounded like:
“Shoot shoot shoot you titan, something down the something, merrily merrrr…”
They passed out soon after, but not before Stormclaw declared himself winner of the competition. Iodius said nothing as he lay on the ground, resting off a nights hard drinking. He would feel it in the morning. That was certain.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/03/22 01:38:39


Post by: EvergreenArcher


Quick and silently
The lictor ran. It was perfectly enveloped in the jungle. The well adapted camouflage worked as efficiently as it always did. The hive was always perfectly adapted. The carapaces of the brood were all different shades of green to match the foliage of the jungle. Even without the camouflage, it would be very hard to see the lictor. However, the hive took precautions. A small squad of gaunts and a warrior with a venom cannon were prepared to move out at a moments notice if the lictor was under assault. The lictor continued on. It effortlessly dodged past trees and skirted around the overgrown bushes without so much as the sound of a twig cracking. After a long period of time had elapsed, the lictor gazed upon its goal. The camp of the greenskins under KoreGog da Bloody.
Find the leader
The lictor climbed up one of the trees for a better view. It began to scan its surroundings for the largest among them, for the brood knew from experience that the biggest was the strongest. With that thought, the hive mind remembered Gorgrim BadToof.
Kill
The lictor fell out of the tree. With surprising agility, it caught itself, and climbed back up.
Continue looking
The lictor peered into the camp once again. Near the right side, KoreGog was found. He was a massive ork, He had green tattoos spanning his body. These marked him as one of the "snake bite" clan. A rusted helm of some primitive material was upon his head. He had massive streaks of gore and blood smeared across his face. A 'uge choppa was wielded in his hands and a massive boss pole was upon its back. With a quick glance, the surviving lictor spotted one of the swarm's dead lictors upon the pole.
Revenge
The lictor grew unsteady on its feet again. It once more fell out of the tree. The orks did not notice. The lictor had detected all it needed to know. KoreGog and his group of nobz were the primary threat. The entire group only carried 'uge choppas. The brood will attack from afar. The orks will regret resisting the hive. The hive will consume the nearby terrain to grow strong. The hive will prosper once the orks join the foliage.
Long live the hive

Spoiler:
My lictor was at Jorgan scouting KoreGog while the rest of my force was at Pike-Ard doing nothing.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/03/22 03:38:59


Post by: Tactical_Spam


Raak'tiil strolled down one of the destroyed wings of the palace dominated by Ewryht'eikl's daemonic hordes. In truth, the entire world was possessed by his conscious and he bathed it in constant darkness and shadow. Seldom had Raak'tiil seen the world's sun or any light source off the planet. Being on the planet for a few minutes would bring dread to any mortal foolish enough to set foot upon it. Raak'tiil could only guess at what would fill their head before they fled the planet or succumbed to the darkness. She flicked her head to the side abruptly and stopped in her tracks.

Ewryht'eikl's Absents were crafty buggers that always seemed to be at the corner of your view, like a grim thought at the back of your mind, but never had she seen one directly unless Ewryht'eikl was present. She heard them chuckle and sneer at her. It seemed like their nature to provoke her to anger, and they performed that skill marvelously. She scooped up a stone from the broken floor and flung it into the shadows behind a column. She heard bones crack and pop at the joints, indicating there were Absents, though she saw none flee. She advanced swiftly and followed the sound of the Absents.

Raak'tiil followed their sound down a narrow side hallway and into a dining hall. Mounds of bones were piled against the walls, tables were over turned and the ceiling had almost caved in. She turned around to face a near-unscathed portrait of the old resident of the palace. She began to admire the fact it was untouched by Chaos. She snapped out of her revelries when she heard a quartet of snaps that presumably came from string that was holding something far too heavy. She turned to face the noise and was greeted with a pair of blood red eyes and a leery grin.

"Are you Raak'tiil?" the face asked before it was bisected by an axe, fading into darkness. The face appeared again in an upper corner of the room, clearly disappointed by Raak'tiil's choice of action. "Tsk Tsk Tsk. Is that how you treat all your guests or just me?"

"Who are you?" the Hunter growled, prying her axe from its position in the wall where she had struck the face earlier. She pointed the axe at the smiling face, "I will not miss again."

"No, but I do not expect you to try again," the face chuckled, impossibly pulling the rest of its body from a shadow much to small to conceal it, but this was Chaos and was to be expected. The creature looked much like an ape, but of the blackest black. It behaved like the casted shadow of a stringed puppet and never directly faced Raak'tiil. It only faced her shadow. "I am the Marionette of Ewryht'eikl... the first Herald of Ewryht'eikl to be exact."

"So this is what he's done in his free time. He's created a monkey," Raak'tiil snorted, dismissing the creature now that she knew what it was. She turned and made for the door.

"Stop stop stop. I know what you need, Bloodthirster," the Marionette said, enticing Raak'tiil's curiosity to know what the monkey thought she needed, so she stayed.

"I am not a Bloodthirster, monkey."

"Really? You look like one, get angry like one and smell like one. I think its safe to say you are a Bloodthirster," the monkey replied, following his comment up with a hearty laugh. Raak'tiil turned to face the Marionette.

"I am the Hunter, daemon of Ewryht'eikl."

"You aren't. I would know. You get angry because you cannot see the Absents. I can see them just fine, but you... You cannot. Only daemons of Ewryht'eikl can see the Absents."

"Then how do I become a daemon of Ewryht'eikl?" Raak'tiil asked, now genuinely curious about what the monkey was saying. The Marionette pointed at her cloak, which she wore as a waist cape.

"Become the darkness. Don the cloak," the Marionette chuckled before vanishing into the shadows. Raak'tiil looked down at her waist cape. Thoughts raced through her daemonic mind. To don or not to don, that was the question. If she put it on, she'd swear full allegiance to Ewryht'eikl, something she was not ready for. If she did not wear the cloak, the monkey would tell Ewryht'eikl that Raak'tiil resisted him and she would surely be destroyed. She weighed her options between destruction and perceived damnation. Choosing to be ruled by Ewryht'eikl would see her to more conflicts and blood shed, something Raak'tiil would miss dearly if she were destroyed.She made her choice and pulled the shadows of her waist cape up and over her head like a hood. She watched in slight dismay as her skin changed from a blood red to a dark grey and felt her skin grow cold, as though her furnace-like interior was no longer. She heard voices, voices of mortals and not of the Absents. She could feel inside their head and read their thoughts like an open book. She knew their emotion and their motivations. It gave her power. If she willed it, she could control a mortal with a single word. The realization hit her like a Land Raider soon after.

I am using warp-magicks... Raak'tiil thought, not certain if she was repulsed or amazed at the revelation. There was so much power, so much potential as a psyker that Raak'tiil never witnessed until now. If this is what Ewryht'eikl granted his followers, she wanted to be a part of it. A small grin grew on the daemonette's face and she gave her will in to Ewryht'eikl.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/03/22 05:23:13


Post by: Bobthehero


----- Scion Base in Drake's Point -----

Riley flicked the remains of a lho-stick, put on his helmet and exited the command bunker. Gallus had left early on to request even more defensive equipement and left the Temepestor Secundus in charge of reinforcing the already impressive defenses of the base. The walls were thick and provided good cover and line of sight for the men posted on them. The heavier weapons usually mounted on the Taurox Primes were set on tripods and used as point defences. The reconnaissance had gone extremely well and all access points had been found.

Whatever access that couldn't properly be watched by Tarantula turrets were carefully collapsed to maintain the integrety of the base. Every underground access point had many traps and booby-traps, as well as automated defenses. Noone could get in without being spotted and then swiftly gunned down.

Riley turned towards his vox-op

'' Send a message to the Prime, defences are set up ''

The man nodded and transmitted the information. Now that the Scion base of operation was secured properly, they could begin the next phase of preparation.

'' He wants to see you, sir ''

Riley nodded and made his way to his commander.

'' Ah, Riley, good, I've already arranged for the first of PDF's to be train, you'll oversee the entire thing I'll stick with commanding the 85th with Castella once she's back. You will take out the three Tauroxes with the missile racks and fill them up with some of our vets. Make sure they understand to stay in group, I don't want you guys to get cornered in the city street and your gear to get stolen by some demented chaos worshipper out there. Give the name and planet of origin of all the guys at the gate when you leave, I want total control on the movement of our troops ''

'' Do you want to restrain our main to the base for now? ''

'' Yes, they won't like it, but its gotta be done, and make its actually enforced this time, the last thing we need is chaos freaks in our lines, dismissed ''

Riley exited the building and looked for some of his veterans. Once the Taurox Primes were loaded, they exited the base and moved to a local PDF base.

'' Lets make the life of these poor suckers hell for a few week, aye? '' said one Scion.



Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/03/22 09:39:28


Post by: Buttery Commissar


"Before we start the unfortunate necessity of business, may I ask who your companion is?" Edward eyed the hovering servo skull over his mug of tea.
Liza raised a mechadendrite and the small metallic skull hovered neatly over the desk.
Selka barely contained his disdain toward it as his upper lip curled, and he learned back slightly from the desk.
"This is a creation of mine. Entirely inorganic. No human remains," Liza smiled toward the commissar with an understanding expression, "I find the use of those distasteful, personally."
Garth sat a little easier and looked upon the creation with curiosity.
"His name is 41FI3." she extended a slim hand and the skull hovered sideways, coming to rest on her palm.
"...Alfie?" Garth laughed softly.
The skull turned it's small camera lenses toward the commissar and beeped in reaction.
"Yes, he's my sixth and seventh senses. He also allows me to feed data back to the rest of my team while they work."
Edward smiled in turn, "Then we should likely get down to business."

"You know that we are an exploration team. We wish to gain safe transport and some guarantee of survival on an expedition." Liza released Alfie, and he buzzed back into the air.
"We are no glorified taxi service, Liza," Selka shook his head, "why come to us over the Imperial Guard?"
Liza nodded, her braided metal hair shifting in waves as she did so, "Because Seneschal, I believe this trip could benefit both parties. And we wish for a certain element of discretion in our work."
"Discretion." Edward repeated and raised his eyes to the gilded ceiling of his office. His ship was hardly a small scouting vessel.
"Have you seen what a platoon of guardsmen can do to a landscape, Lord Captain? We wish to study and investigate a planet, not trample it to bare earth." the Techpriest had a twinkle to her eyes behind the lenses.
Garth nodded, "Lass knows her guard. We aren't even very good at leaving nothing but footprints, when there's a thousand boots."

"Where, then?" Edward inclined his head.
"A planet named Crion. In the past there was a chapter of Astartes based there, now long since departed, Liza raised her hand, and Alfie projected a small flickering star chart, "we are to seek out their footprints, for lack of a better term. Reclamation, understanding and we hope, restoring some history to the archives."
The Lord captain nodded and listened attentively.
"It is also a planet with few current trade links or information on record. A worthy investigation for a trader of goods and information." the smile returned to Liza's face as she noticed the small signs of her flattery taking effect.

*
Liza departed, the deal secured and a promise that the Sovereign would find a suitable force to protect the Explorator team on Crion.

"She smiles like a cat." Garth shivered.
"I like cats." Edward shrugged.
"Thought you were more of a dog person." the commissar nudged him.
"Always room for both."

**

"Kroot?" Edward hissed to Garth, "We are going to an Imperial world! You couldn't have found a force less conspicuous if you tried. You did this on purpose!"
Ta'lok didn't react as he approached the pair of humans, pretending not to have heard the exasperated rogue trader. He watched, curious how Selka would react.
"Of course I did it on purpose. They are renowned trackers, hunters and guerrilla fighters. They also don't go about stealing valuable artefacts if we keep up our side of the deal." Garth replied tiredly.
"I trust your experience, I just wish that you'd made life simpler." Edward conceded.

He bowed as the Kroot approached, and saluted him, "Welcome to our home; and yours for the duration of our adventure. Don't think me disrespectful for not offering my hand, I understand it means something very different for your people."
The shaper laughed, "You have done your research, Lord Captain."
"It would be discourteous and irresponsible not to. We have also had our suppliers bring aboard less processed items for your warriors, as I doubt they would appreciate some of our long life foods. They hydroponics section is also at your disposal." Edward nodded.
"And we put fresh hay bales in the cargo bay for your sleeping quarters." Selka added, straight faced.
Edward turned his head to stare in astonishment at the commissar.
Garth caught Ta'lok's eye, and they both burst into laughter at Edward's discomfort.
"You worry too much, Ed." Garth patted his shoulder gently.
The rogue trader laughed himself, relieved, "I think I do. I should know better." He turned his head back to their guest, "You will be staying in the old barracks. We have had them serviced for you. I ask that if you find anything to your dissatisfaction, let Garth know. Some of the rooms are not to be disturbed, you will see which."
Ta'lok nodded, "Understood, and we thank you."



Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/03/23 00:36:24


Post by: EvergreenArcher


Consume
The seething mass of the tyranid force sprang out of the hulk wreckage. All manner of bio-forms approached the tree lines surrounding the crash. They were unprepared for what would happen next. A hormagaunt approached the massive form of one of the great jungle trees. It would benefit the hive greatly in the reclamation pools. The gaunt reached out and sunk its teeth straight into the tough bark. This was the swarm's first true mistake on the planet of Crion. A major mistake. The jungle was not an ordinary jungle. It was as alive as the brood's forces were. And it was angry. The trees began to shift in their positions. Leaves swirled everywhere, obscuring all vision. The sounds of wood creaking were everywhere. That one hormagaunt that had willingly sunk its teeth into the tree was swept up in a massive tangle of branches and devoured inside the tree. The link with the hive mind to it was quickly extinguished. All around the hulk, gaunts of all kinds were swept into the invisible jaws of the very angry jungle. Raveners fired into the mass of leaves and bark, but they could not see where to truly shoot.
Form groups. Repel the threat. Defend the Queen
The bio-forms tried. Many were taken as they tried to retreat. Bio-acid flung everywhere as the ranged units tried to defend themselves from everywhere. It was utter chaos. Some groups of lesser forms even lost their synapse link and went feral, wandering into the forest to their doom. The surviving lictor attempted to escape the wrath of the enraged trees. Its camouflage was useless. The trees shared a group connection. Anywhere it tried to tread, there was an overgrown root or branch to sense the lictor's movement. The lictor used its great agility to evade swinging branches and flying leaves. The lictor had almost made it back. As it got close, it was grabbed by a nearby branch. The lictor tried ineffectually to escape the wrath of the forest.
Reinforce with the Great One
The lictor was close to the maw of the tree. To any other form of life, they would have thought the lictor gone, but the lictor was part of the hive mind. It knew help was coming. The lictor could see nothing. The lictor could hear nothing but roars of pain and suffering of the lesser bio-forms. Then the lictor could tell help had arrived. A massive gout of blazing bio-acid struck the branch holding the lictor. It burned through in seconds. The lictor struck the ground and began to run under the supressive fire of the hulking form of the Great Hive Tyrant of Hive Fleet Cerberus. Any branch trying to get close to the lictor was burned clean through. Any attempt to attack the hive tyrant was met with talons that had rended through armor so much stronger. The hive tyrant roared a massive, rallying cry. All the bio-forms retreated to the hive tyrant. They all became very accurate, and deadly. Hormagaunts clawed through branches. Termagaunts shot bio-acid directly at the bigger clumps of snaring leaves. The trees could not best the new swarm. It was much more coordinated. It was very intelligent. It would return. The tyranids all retreated to the safety of the hulk. The trees surrounding the wreckage had long since burned away, leaving a safe zone for the hive to wait for the jungle to settle.
Adapt
The hive now knew this forest was not going to simply be eaten. It had devoured a large portion of the brood. Their biomass had to be reclaimed. The hive knew what had to be done. The hive would go to "war" as the walking biomass called humans say. The swarm had just declared war with the trees.
Patience
The swarm waited. The massive amount of leaves in the air returned to the ground. The branches returned to their positions. It appeared as if nothing had ever happened to them. The hive would grow much stronger from this. It would adapt new carapaces from the hardened wood of the trees. The hive will reap the rewards.
Long live the hive

Spoiler:
My entire force was at Pike-Ard, declaring war with the trees.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/03/23 22:17:58


Post by: Buttery Commissar


As Garth headed toward his shared room, he still on occasion felt as though he'd jumped several undeserved rungs on the social ladder, seeing the decking beneath his feet change to rich carpeting. The visit from the cogboys had been the best thing to happen to them in a long while, he concluded, raising Edward out of the safe groove he had created for himself over the past few years.
"Commissar?" a young voice caused him to turn.
"It's Seneschal!" he snapped tiredly, "It's only been five fething year-" he stopped in his snarl upon seeing the group assembled there, and furrowed his brow in worried uncertainty, "-If this is a lynching, I have some things to do first."

A sight he had not witnessed for some years stood before him, two squads of the Histan regiment who now called the Sovereign their home, had somehow materialised in the corridor, and stood solemn-faced in the low light. Their uniforms in some cases as torn and damaged as the last day they had worn them, fighting for their lives and honor in the Charadon system.

"No sir, we heard that the Reforged Sovereign was going to assist the Adeptus Mechanicus explore a planet, that the Lord Captain has found himself again." the trooper who had first spoken, Garth recognised him as Kessan, started.
Beside Kessan, a sergeant with a large chunk missing from the bridge of his broad nose, continued, "We want to help. It's the least we could do for the years of hospitality you've given us."
Sergeant Cassdro, Garth called to mind, before replying to him, "But you have worked hard. Your time here was invaluable to us. We do not expect reparations." he shook his head.
"We know," Kessan nodded, "we are requesting permission to assist."

Garth cocked his head, "This is a matter of proving yourselves? Pride? Penitence?" he scratched his chin, "Very well. I allow it. But, you must follow the instruction of the cogboys at all times. If they want you to leave, you leave. If they want to travel somewhere, you do not question it. You do not disobey or belittle them or the Kroot. Yes?"
There was a murmur of consent, and Cassdro stepped forward, extending his hand, "We thank you, Commissar." a smile broke into his tired face.
Garth took his hand and shook it, "Get some rest. And report early tomorrow to our tailors. You're not going out looking like this." he returned the smile, and then stepped away, not waiting for a farewell.
Strange folk, but honourable, he thought as he finally reached the bedroom.

"What kept you?" a sleepy voice queried as he slumped into a chair and kicked his boots off.
"You know, Seneschal stuff." Selka replied airily.
"Did you get confused and go to your old room again?"
Garth blinked, "I only ever did that once! You know for a Lord Captain, you spend more time sleeping than you ever did as a Seneschal. How did you even beat me back here?"
"'M a wizzerd." the muffled reply came from the bed.
"Yeah, yeah, alright." finally done with his boots and dayclothes, the commissar climbed into bed and winced as the aches of the day caught up with him.

"Any news?" Edward rolled over, curious and alert now.
"Just that our resident guardsmen wish to assist the Kroot and Liza."
"I hope you told them no!" Edward looked alarmed, "Garth, we went through this, we are not equipped for war."
"It was important to them, Ed. we needn't get further involved." the commissar smiled and pulled the covers up to his chin, sleep calling loudly to the pair of them.

"Just don't want things to end up like-"
"I know. They won't," Garth closed his eyes, "we won't get involved. It'll be fine."
Resting his head on Garth's shoulder, Edward murmured, "I hope so. I really do." his own eyes closed, and the room fell silent.

In the barracks, Kroot were settling in similarly. The Explorators and Histans rested their own eyes and bionics.
In her room on the upper deck of the Sovereign, a lone Astropath sat on the edge of her bunk, unable to sleep. Something was bothering her, and she could not pin down quite what it was.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/03/23 22:44:22


Post by: Sgt_Smudge


Darkness descended over the Blood Dragon ruins. The cold broken structure of the once-towering Chapter fortress stood stark in the pale moonlight, it's silvery-blue light dappled by the forest canopy. Even the orks patrolling the maze-like ruins looked peaceful and serene in the night. Their spiders glided across the leaves, and the dumb brutes astride them were creatures of exquisite fairytale and dreamlike myth. Yet their beady eyes and hairy ears never noticed or heard the other people in the ruins with them.

"Shas'vre Ghostwalk, formation sound off. Optimised Stealth Cadre, ready for duty."

"Gue'vesa'ui Harland, Infiltration Cadre Alpha, ready for duty."

"Shas'ui Tsa'lan, Infiltration Cadre Omega, ready for duty."

The three prongs of the recon group were set up around the various locations in the ruins, all overlooking the gargantuan maw into the blackness. Now that the cadre had a proper look at the fortification, they saw the sword-like fangs of a massive dragon's head. The black steel edifice shimmered, it's scales iridescent in the night. It's sharp jaw descended into the ground, as if it's throat were built into the earth itself. It's massive eye sockets were filled with bloody offerings. Blood dripped from the sockets, and if one focused on looking into the cavernous recesses, you could pick out limbs, heads, ribcages and various hands and feet. More offerings to the orks' bestial gods.

"Cadre, move and secure the entry point. Harland, prepare your cadre for insertion. I will have this Nogrod's head taken back to the Shas'O tonight."

Tsa'lan and Harland were both taken aback by Ghostwalk's order.
"Shas'vre, are you sure this is... wise?" Tsa'lan said.

"Agreed," muttered Harland. "This feels like a deathtrap. Can we not send in some drones first?"

"And give away our position? You would let the Be'gel take advantage of us? Do you trust your skill, Gue, or not?"

Harland retorted. "Of course I trust my skills, Shas'vre. But is there any point in jeopardising the-"

"It won't be jeopardised if you do your job right." Ghostwalk snarled. "Now, prove it to me: are you going to do your job, or are you not fit for it?"

"For the Cadre, sir." Harland muttered.

"Sir?" Ghostwalk's voice was leering, menacing and triumphant.

"Sorry Shas'vre. For the Cadre, Shas'vre." Harland had, in a moment of weakness, betrayed his human roots. Most of Sunstrike Cadre were accepting of this, and individuals such as Gue'vesa'El Vandred proved that Tau and humans could work in harmony. However, individuals like Shas'vre Ghostwalk still held onto their initial prejudice of the human auxiliaries.

Tsa'lan gave a sympathetic nod to Harland. Even though neither could see eachother's faces, she felt sure he knew what she was expressing. Not all Tau are like this. Just do it for the cadre. Let Skyhunter deal with him.

The human Gue'vesa'ui signalled for his troops to move out of their concealed positions. Small fireteams of Pathfinders and Stealth Battlesuits crept through the leaves. Harland readied his pulse carbine and led the advance into the ruins.

The incursion lasted just under two hours, according to Tsa'lan's internal clock. Harland had kept in contact with Ghostwalk and Tsa'lan, recording his progress as his units crept through the filthy corridors and antechambers. Harland's earth caste mapping drones had worked wonders in the close confines, detaching from his backpack and dashing into the ruins like excited children. Their red lights swept across the flat, corroded panels of the Blood Dragon ruins, mapping the underground for the cadre.

Harland's cadre had managed to scan around an estimated fourth of the ruins below, evading capture from prowling spiders in the darkened rooms, before disaster struck.
One of the Pathfinder teams had been advancing up the corridor when a mob of orks had ambled up. The surprise on their slab-like faces told the Pathfinders all they needed. The sounds of ork roars and pulse fire echoed through the chambers. Harland immediately called a full retreat, pulling back as fast as he could with his own unit. Orks and spiders began pouring through the halls, and battle was joined.

Tsa'lan's and Ghostwalk's forces pulled into the opening hall, setting up a beachhead for their comrades to retreat to. Inside the halls, the sounds of battle were amplified. The screams of Tau and the whine of pulse rounds were ever-present. A depleted Stealth suit team were the first to make it back. They hadn't ran into any ork forces on their way out, and were unscathed. Only a handful of Pathfinders from second squad made it back, wounded and running low on ammo. A tide of spiders had followed them, seething and scuttling towards them. Ghostwalk's barked orders from his Ghostkeel directed the relief force into a wall of controlled fury. The fleeing Pathfinders ducked and fell to the ground, and a ripple of pulse carbine fire reaped the pursing spiders. Their corpses blocked the passageway, and the Pathfinders rejoined into the defensive structure.

Harland's unit was the last to make it back. The Pathfinders were making a fighting retreat, scything down greenskins as Harland cut down any of them which got too close. His pulse pistol and enhanced bonding knife combination, whilst not supported by typical Tau doctrine, was remarkably effective when wielded by the Gue'vesa. Already, it's blade was slick with orkish blood, and his armour was rent and battered by countless strikes. By the time Harland's forces had pulled back, they were at half their original strength. Orkish bodies lay strewn behind them.

"We're getting out of here. Now." Harland spat at Shas'vre Ghostwalk.

"Gue'vesa'ui, I command the-"

"Now. I've lost contact with the rest of my cadre when the orks brought the bloody roof down on them. I've lost enough men getting them out to here. Tsa'lan, what say you?"

She was aware of both commanders fixing their attention on her. The Shas'ui chose her words carefully.
"The Shas'O would not support any more loss of life. We can come back in force and take out Nogrod another time, Shas'vre."

Ghostwalk grunted in anger, and began to walk out of the dragon's mouth. The rest of the cadre followed him, backing out with their pulse carbines raised.

Harland rapped his bloody hand to his chest, a human salute to the Tau. Tsa'lan nodded her thanks to him, and directed her own formation out. As she emerged into the light, stepping out of the dragon's mouth, she cast a final glare into the shadowy abyss.

"Another time."


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/03/24 21:09:15


Post by: EvergreenArcher


Again
The swarm advanced for the fourth time. The first time they had been taken by surprise and the hive's forces had been halved. Little was able to be reclaimed before the trees fought the bio-forms off. The second time the brood attacked, they were sent back by the swirling mass of leaves and branches. The third had been worse. The trees were adapting to their tactics. It was no longer easy to even kill the trees let alone get out with most of the force. And now the brood marched back to war.
Charge
The gaunts sprinted ahead of the rest of the swarm. The raveners were close behind. The warriors were slow and as such, were equipped with ranged weaponry. The termagaunts were with the warriors. The Great One strode behind them, constantly checking for movement, venom cannon prepared to fire, and talons ready to rend and tear. All was quiet.
Suspicious. Trap detected. Fall back to investigate.
The hive mind's response was too late. The bulk of the invading force had already entered the ambush. It was no ordinary ambush. It was no ordinary enemy. A pack of hormagaunts had almost made it to the tree line. They then disappeared from sight. A massive hole had appeared in the ground, sucking them all into the dark recesses of the pit. Their life signs were quickly gone. All across the swarm, massive holes appeared. They separated the brood, and made them easy prey. The small bio-forms were immediately sucked down. The warrior forms however, refused to put it simply. As the warriors began to fall, the clawed the walls with the scything talons always equipped on every one. They began to climb their way out, as all the lesser forms tumbled into the dark depths. The warriors would not have it so easy, though. Massive vines began to creep out of the black void and ensnare all the massive bio-forms, one by one. These vines could not stop them from getting out, but it would take time.
Full Retreat
The Great One attempted to retreat. As it strode away, a hole appeared underneath it. The Great One was too fast to fall for this. It used its claws and talons to grab all the sides of the hole and push itself out. The hive had been routed. Massive casualties were calculated instantly by the hive mind. The warriors were alive, the Great One could never truly die, and the raveners seemed to have gotten out without many deaths. The swarm was in shambles. By simple, primitive, biomass. This loss however, created a new feeling in the hive mind.
Fear
The hive is losing. There is barely a force left. The brood is at 1/4 the strength it was at at the beginning. The swarm is dying.
No
The hive always lives on. Time is what the hive always had, and always will have. The brood does not simply fall on a planet. The swarm goes to ground. Digs in. There is always more biomass that can be collected. The trees have won this battle. The hive will figure out a way to beat the trees. The hive can do this. None can truly best the hive.
Long live the hive

Spoiler:
My forces continue to die at Pike-ard with another defeat.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/03/25 09:57:47


Post by: chazz huggins


Payne Manor Part 1 of 2

Payne Manor. Though it is far more akin to a palace then the stately manor of your common noblemen. When Sebastian Payne first laid down roots on Crion he demanded that his home be a slice of Terra’s splendor. From the toil of generations of wealth building and the sweat of the backs of countless laborers Sebastian Payne forged his vision a testament to imperial splendor. Pearl white marble was imported from Terra itself, ornamented with gold leaf trim imported from the mines of Mars. The arcades, private plazas, gardens, and verandas were adorned with the finest furnishings. Blue silk tapestry hung from every grandiose window. Chandlers of gold and crystal lit with blue fires. Silver statues of Imperial saints, and loyal primarchs. This palace nestled on the bay of Payne Island enjoys a full view of the Crionian sea. There are few Lord Governors who can boast the same amount of splendor that Payne Manor enjoys. Lord Governor Hannibal Pavus is quoted with having said “When I die and go to the Emperor’s side I hope it looks something like Payne Manor.”

Lord Governor Tobias Payne watched himself in the mirror of his personal quarters as his two servants did their best to fit the the overweight man into his formal attire. Payne looked at the right most corner of the mirror and saw a familiar avian figure. The governor spoke out to his attendants “Leave me I wish to be alone. You will be summoned when you are needed.” The two servants rose and gave the Lord Governor a deep bow, a gesture Payne had long since grown numb to. As the Iron oak door shut behind the pair of servants Payne spoke out “Is Edgar Beaconn dead.” Ta’lok replied “Not just yet, rodents like he are adept hiders.” Payne growled “You promised me results, I have been a more than generous benefactor for you and your xeno retinue. I take great risk contracting you I expect greater rewards.” Ta’lok spoke calmly “I am aware of that, fear not governor these Tillers will not last long against Pech’s finest hunters.” The governor took a deep breath to cool his anger “Why are you here then.” Ta’lok gave an avian grin, “You are my patron, I am here to see you survive this ordeal.” Payne laughed “It’s a party in my own estate what danger.” Ta’lok smiled at the poor human’s arrogance, “Look at me I have for the second time entered your personal quarters without so much as having to deal with a single guard. Do you really have faith in these men to protect you from Tiller infiltrators?” What humor Payne had in his face was gone. Payne pondered his options for a moment. “You will not be seen by anyone, ANYONE, and you will where a disguise.” Ta’lok grinned “Your will be done governor; your will be done.”

The party had begun and the rank and file of nobility had begun to arrive. Your typical mix of hive barons, lord commanders, and farmer dukes, each dawned in their finest garments. As each attendant entered the great ball room of Payne manor they were announced by Payne’s master of ceremonies, a humble servant with a vox implant lending his voice extra power, still the servant knew not to offend and made sure his volume was appropriate for the lord’s party. The first of the Lord’s special guest had arrived.

The announcer spoke his regal voice politely informing the party attendants of the guest’s arrival. “Announcing Tempestor Castella of the 85th Tempestus Scions and retinue.” Castella emerged into the ball room wearing a suit of ceremonial Carapace, a saber and hot shot las pistol clung slung at her hip. She stepped forward two equally clad scions flanking her, though they were wearing helmets. As Castilla entered she saw Governor Payne watching her and her men. Castilla gave bow making sure to arch her back the way all lesser nobles did. Payne smiled he was glad off worlders understood respect. Castilla entered the floor and began taking mental notes. She was familiar with the games of the nobility games she was almost fond of. Castella began listening in on the noble chatter.
“Have you heard any news from Cogger Hive.”
“Last I heard they were evacuating the small folk. They’ve set up camps outside Drake’s point.”
“They don’t plan to let all those rift raft into the capital do they.”
“Of course not.”

Castilla turned her attention to a count and baron
“Those damn Tiller’s have damn near half of my workers on strike.”
“Half! Emperor damn that swine Horatio, how do you plan to get them back to work.”
“I’m dispatching regulators to remind those field hands who is lord.”
“I wish you the best of luck.”

Castilla watched as a PDF lieutenant approached a PDF Commander
“Lord Kaiba how fares Blackwater Bastion.”
“Well for a change; we have some new blood, some luna boys fleeing the fallen Cogger hive.”
“It seems cowards have wormed their way into your bastion.”
“Cowards or no they can hold las-rifles I need nothing else from them.”

A few minutes later after the arrival of some countess the speaker bellowed again. “Announcing Captain Faolan Gall of the fourth company of the Emperor’s Hounds chapter of the Adeptus Astartes. and Commander Cearul Adair of the fourth company of the Emperor’s Hounds chapter of the Adeptus Astartes.” Every head in the room turned to the Astartes for those to young to remember the feast held by Tobias Payne’s father where he hosted members of the Blood Angels chapter this was their first time seeing Astartes and for those old enough to remember that near ancient feast, the Emperor’s hounds were a fresh reminder of the intimidation they felt that day over fifty years ago. Faolan wore his artificer armor its deep purple having been freshly repainted. The bearded man looked over to where Payne watched him, he bowed his head in curtesy, a casual gesture instead of the grandiose display his subordinates usually paid him. After that the two astartes descended the staircase. The bald Cearul carried his storm shield on his back he spoke silently and in the Hound’s native tongue “I hope the snacks are good.” Faolan paid his second an angry glare reminding him to focus.

Immediately after the hounds another of the new crusaders made their entrance. The speaker was caught off guard by the size of the Carcharodons massive terminator plate. After a moment of gawking the announcer regained his composure and spoke “Announcing Captain Tarani of the Carcharodons chapter of the Adeptus Astartes.” Tarani made no response and walked pass the assembly speaker and descended the regal staircase. He surveyed the room and noticed the two Emperor’s hounds and decided they would make for the best company.

Commander Cearul laughed as the veteran of Badab approached “Do you expect warp spawn to spew forth from the punch bowl brother, if so a warning would be appreciated.” Faolan growled “You will show respect Cearul. My apologies Brother Captain.” Tarani spoke “A Shark is a Shark on land and in the void, I take no offense.”

As the conversation between the marines began to settle into comradery yet another of the honored guest made their appearance. “Announcing Queen Moira Valorn of knight house Valorn and Queensward Amanda Valorn and retinue.” Queen Moira armor was far more ornate than practical though its elegance was beyond compare, a sleeveless dress in the colors of her house with a bronze chest plate with the icon of the Aquilla, and several bronze bands of jewelry ran up and down her arms. Her sister’s attire was far more practical a suit of bronze armor adorned with her house’s iconography wrapped in a cape of the house’s color. Both of the sisters carried power swords at their hips, though moira’s was more akin to a saber while her sister’s was a full broad sword. Accompanying the two was five of the houses men at arms dawned in simple flak armor colored to match the knights they serve the men were equipped with swords and las pistols. Both Moira and Amanda bowed when it came time. As the two descended Amanda whispered “I fething hate parties.” Moira quickly struck her insubordinate sister and whispered “Language. You represent the entire house carry yourself as a proper Queensward would.” Amanda rubbed the spot where she was struck and spoke “Yes my queen.”

Moira and Amanda found their way to Tempestor Castilla who was standing out on one of the many balconies that looked upon the sea. Castilla bowed her head as the knights approached “Lady Valorn, it is good to see you again.” Moira smiled “Tempestor Castilla I don’t believe you have met my sister.” The scion replied “I’ve not had the pleasure.” Moira replied “Than allow me to introduce my sister Queensward Amanda Valorn.” Amanda shook the scion’s hand and spoke “Tis an honor to meet one of the legendary Tempestus Scions, tell me do any of the men here strike your fancy.” Moira recoiled “Amanda!” “What?” Castilla laughed “No, I’m afraid this carapace makes me ineligible for the dance floor.” “A shame” Amanda sighed. Castilla looked to Moira and spoke with a smile “Your attire looks more suitable; did you plan to dance tonight my lady.” Moira shook her head and grunted “Emperor be kind.”

Moira was spared from her embarrassment when the speaker sounded again. “Announcing Captain Ceasar of the Dorn’s Wish chapter of the Adeptus Astartes, Chaplain Iodius, and retinue.” The and retinue was in reference to the eighteen veteran astartes who followed in formation behind their Captain and Chaplain each battle brother gripping his bolter with a dead grip. Ceasar held his helmet in the crook of his arm while chaplain Iodius kept his skeletal helmet on. The Captain stepped forward and made eye contact with the Lord Governor and pounded his fist to his chest, a sign of respect. As the small army of astartes decended the steps Iodius spoke into the squad’s vox link “Disperse were making the humans nervous.” Without a word the eighteen veterans slowly dispersed throughout the ballroom, some were mingling amongst the crowd others were looking for a secluded area to be away from the filth of Crionian nobles.

Ceasar saw Captain Tarani speaking to the two purple clad marines, if the bad blood between their chapters were to be mended it would begin here. Ceasar approached the group of marines and made the sign of the Aquilla a gesture they all returned. Ceasar had little love for the sharks but they were both servants of the god emperor and perhaps in their shared faith they could find the capacity to cooperate with one and other. Faolan spoke “Hail brother, I must say that was quite an entrance.” Tarani spoke “I must say brother the amount of Astartes you field to a mission of peace is disconcerting.” The irony of the statement did not escape Cearul. Ceasar replied “The codex teaches us to always be prepared, though we are not sons of Guilliman we obey its holy word.”

Not long after the arrival of the Champions of Rogal Dorn the loud speaker announced the arrival of another trio of honored guests. “Announcing Rogue Trader Edward Fairfax of House Fairfax and Tech Priest Liza of the Adeptus Mechanicus, and retinue.” Edward Fairfax wore his Captain’s coat, a crimson velvet with gold trimmings and epaulets. His ensemble was similar to the uniform worn by captains in the Imperial navy. Liza wore her ceremonial robes the of her native forge world, though what everyone saw about her was how elegantly her bionics were affixed to her. Many tech priest and Magos had a tendency to look grotesque in their modifications, but Liza’s all seemed natural, and were elegantly crafted with a harmonious blend of practicality and ornateness. Garth wore his commissar’s uniform. Though time was taking its toll on his regimentals, Garth saw to it that it remained presentable. Garth had so many holes mended he thought that he believed it had almost no original parts. Garth pondered if it was still technically a commissar’s uniform or if was a completely new suit that was but a mockery of a commissar’s vestments. It ultimately didn’t matter as garth knew that what the coat held inside was a commissar and whether his uniform was authentic or not was irrelevant. Accompanying them was a trio of Histians in ceremonial uniform and two additional tech priests. As they descended the stairs garth spoke in a whisper “Why am I just and retinue?” Edward replied even quieter “It is likely for the best you lay low, wouldn’t want anyone asking too many questions about your past.” Garth nodded “A fair point.” The humans reached where they might address the Lord Governor and each of them bowed humbly and gracefully.

The rogue trader’s retinue and the Mechanicus explorers entered the floor and parted ways for the time being. Liza got the attention of dozens of nobles. Young courtiers offered asked her dance it was with some reluctance that she turned them all down as she had rather important business to attend to. Edward and Garth found their way to where Tempestor Castilla and Queen Moira were stationed, while a band of hungry Histians made their way to a buffet. Edward spoke first “Ah Queen Moira Its lovely to see you again.” “The pleasure is mine Captain Fairfax.” Amanda spoke from behind Moira “You going to introduce me or…” Moira reluctantly spoke “Lord Captain Fairfax may I introduce my sister Amanda Valorn my Queensward.” Fairfax smiled “Well met.” As he shook the knight’s mailed hand. Before Amanda could say anything more guests arrived.

Wolf Lord Ulfric Stormclaw entered the ball room flanked by his Wolf Guard Leader Conan on his left and Bodyguard Floki on the right. The announcer was about to speak but Ulfric caught spoke before he could “Don’t bother friend, I prefer to announce my own arrival. Conan if you’d kindly.” The marine nodded “Aye Lord.” Conan drew a war horn crafted from the tusk of a ice Nokken. With a might breath Conan blew into the horn and the mighty war call was impossible to miss. With his thunderous voice the mighty son of Russ spoke “Announcing Wolf Lord Ulfric Stormclaw of the 7th great company of the Vlka Fenryka. Slayer of the great Nokken and Savior of Odseian IV” with a bow of the head to the announcer but not to the Lord Governor the three space wolves entered the party. Ignoring the coward whispers branding them savages.

Ulfric approached group of gathered Astartes commanders and spoke with a hardy laugh “Ha it is well to see so many of my noble cousins gathered for battle, I’ve not seen such diversity since my days in the watch.” Captain Faolan spoke with a grin as he pounded his fist to his chest “Well met wolf Lord it is an honor to be in the presence of a famed sky warrior.” Tarani spoke “Those are some impressive titles Brother Stormclaw.” The Wolf grinned and said “Thanks that is some impressive plate you dawn brother.” Knocking his hand against the adamentium chassis. Captain Ceasar spoke “Tell me what is a Nokken?” Ulfric grinned as he spoke “Nokkens are sea creatures native to Fenris, they are said to emerge from their slumber once every thousand years.” Faolan smiled “I sense a story; I’ve heard you Fenrisians are quite adept in the art of yarn weaving.” Ulfric smiled “It began when I was a Blood Claw drunk on youth, rage, and ale.”

“With all my strength I grasped the beast great horn and pried it from skull. With the creature’s own horn, I impaled it through its eye and I was rewarded with a shower of the beast’s black onyx blood.” “And then what?” asked Faolan. Ulfric replied “Well three things I cleaned the blood off from me, I brought back the remains to the fang, and I added the slaying of the Nokken to my personal saga. However, I did not do those things in that order, first I worked on my saga, then brought the beast back, and then cleaned the blood off.” The astartes laughed. Their laughter heralded the arrival of yet another guest.

“Announcing the Angel representative of the Arbiters of Truth.” In golden armor and on mechanical legs the Angel stepped forward. Every eye in the room was captivated by the angel’s grace and its bizarre beauty. The Angel paid the Governor the sign of the Aquilla a salute the house’s liege returned put of obligation. Without a word the angel strode down the steps into the ball room preferring not to talk but rather to listen, though few would speak in her presence.

The angel was the last guest to arrive and the party had truly begun.

Chef held at a platter from which the various nobles feasted from as he walked about the room. None paid any mind to the servant’s bionic eye as many servants and nobles had such common enhancements. But the purpose of this all seeing eye was devious. The seemingly benign servant watched and took mental notes of every crusader that entered the governor’s palace and none of them were any the wiser, few can match the subterfuge of the Alpha legion.

Commander Shadowbrand watched through the enhanced optics of her helmet as the humans arrived for the governor’s feast. She spat “Foolish Gue'la they celebrate before the war truly starts.” The commander looked over to one of the marker drones accompanying her. Shadow brand ordered the unit forward and it moved gracefully towards the mansion. With lightning speed, the the drone placed a miniscule listening bug and sped back to its master. With that the link to Skyhunter was established and all the Imperials discussed would be known by the Cadre.

Garrett Randall walked with a purpose as he entered the Payne Manor, trailing him was Captain Kid and Commissar Alenko. Behind them were three of Kid’s Inquisitorial Storm Troopers. Randall spoke to the announcer “Names Randall.” the speaker looked confused as he checked his long list of names. “Uhm I am sorry my lord but all the guests have already arrived, do you have your invitation by chance.” Randall lightly hit himself on the head “I forgot to RSVP, but I have my invitation right here.” Randall revealed a necklace that he had tucked into his shirt the medallion bearing the heraldry of the inquisition. The Speaker’s eyes widened and he was at a loss for words It was at this time Brother Captian Athenar and Justicar Freeman entered the room. Randall smiled “Now if you’d be a dear and announce me.”

“Announcing Inquisitor Garrett Randall of the Ordo Malleus branch of the Inquisition.” Everything stopped, the bands halted their playing, diners halted their chewing, and all laughter died as Garett Randall stepped forward with his retinue. The Inquisitor slowly walked forward towards the staircase feeling every eye in the room upon him. Randall spoke “I must say Lord Payne you do know how to throw a party.” Payne stepped forward and spoke “Inquisitor we were not expecting your presence.” Randall replied with the faintest trace of a grin, “No? Well that’s not much of a surprise. Nobody expects the Inquisition.”


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/03/25 14:09:04


Post by: Robin5t


He had to admit, their first impressions of this place had been quite incorrect.

When Dranc first stepped foot on this world with Feubryn and the Mimes, he shared the belief of the High Avatar that there was nothing particularly special about it. Just another green planet, like the hundreds of others dispersed throughout the galaxy.

Now that they had gotten a closer look at some of the foliage, however, and tried to traverse it, it had become quite obvious that 'just another green planet' was an underestimation of the kind they should have dearly tried to avoid. The trees were hard, strong, and mobile - tense and ready to strike at the slightest offense. The Death Jester had no doubt that if one of them as much as waved their sword toward a branch, the reprisal would be swift and bloody.

However, the Masque of the Blameless Culprit were not unused to this kind of foliage. They had, after all, spent much time on Exodite worlds, where the flora was equally dangerous, if not more so, due to the instincts and primal whims of the mighty World Spirits that held dominion over those planets.

With that previous experience in mind, the Dark Troupe stepped lightly through the jungle, following the tracks of a relatively small group of Orks. Feubryn had requested that he head out and put the fear of the Laughing God into the local population.

"I fail to see," his musings were interrupted by the quietly voiced complaint of the Shade Weaver, one of the newer recruits of the Dark Troupe, "Why we are bothering ourselves with Feral Orks. Should we not simply ignore them and focus on the servants of the Great Enemy?"

"While the Great Enemy are our main foe," the Shadow Duke, Troupe Master of the Dark Troupe responded, "That does not mean we can afford to ignore the Orks. Long years of conflict have taught us that Orks can always find a way to become a threat, even to us."

"Then why not simply retreat and let them fight it out with the other lesser races on this world?" The Shade Weaver asked, "We do not have to stay and fight if they assault us. The Orks are not our responsibility, the Great Enemy is."

"Not our responsibility?"

They all eyed Dranc.

"Tell me," he began, his low baritone giving off a hint of amusement, "Are we not the Eldar? Do we not proclaim ourselves to be the inheritors of the Old Ones' legacy?"

The Shade Weaver looked confused. "Of course we are. I fail to see the relevance."

"It's interesting," Dranc continued, "How so many of our kind feel that we have inherited the legacy of the Old Ones, but not their responsibility. We will use their technology, their gifts, their knowledge, and in return, we shall ignore the duties that come with it? We wish for all of the benefits while we give nothing back. It's almost enough to make one laugh," he chuckled darkly.

The younger Harlequin's masked face stayed on him as they moved through the undergrowth. "So you're saying we must fight the Orks whenever we find them out of duty? That we have a responsibility to right the Old Ones' mistakes?"

At this, the Death Jester's shoulders began to shake with laughter. "Mistakes! You call the Orks mistakes? Which part of their existence seems like a mistake to you? The Old Ones wanted a perfect war machine - and lo and behold, over sixty million years later, the Orks are still waging war throughout the entire galaxy! If you are looking for the Old Ones' mistakes, should you not look somewhat closer to home? Even at their worst, the Orks have never achieved anything like the level of ruin we unleashed on this galaxy at our fall."

"We paid for the Fall, though," the Shadow Duke cut in quietly, "We still pay for it every day. What is your point, Dranc?"

"Hmm?" Dranc tilted his head, "Who is to say I have a point, and I am not merely being contrary to make you think? Thinking is a skill that we, as a race, are still yet to perfect. As is correctly estimating the threat level of our foes," he paused, tense. The rest of the troupe, all twenty players, paused with him, "My friends!"

He grinned savagely behind his mask. "It appears we have been led into an ambush."

And then all hell broke loose.

From the trees, a wave of green and red emerged - a horde of large, powerful-looking Orks charged out of the undergrowth with surprising speed and the surety of foot that could only come with long practice and familiarity with the terrain. The Dark Troupe immediately spread out to give battle.

The first part of their trap immediately became clear - they roared and shouted, some beginning to attack the trees around them, provoking their fury. In response, the branches began to lash out at anything and everything around them, Ork and Harlequin alike. Several Orks were killed by the flora's vicious reprisal, but given their numbers, they could afford to lose Orks far more than the Masque could afford to lose Harlequins, and three members of the troupe found themselves entangled in the branches, their screams quickly ending as the wooden cages tangled around them, crushing them instantly. The others battled in a furious melee against both the Orks and the world around them - holo-fields flickering left and right as the Eldar fought for their lives, flipping, stabbing, slashing and leaping, back and forth, left and right.

Dranc wasted no time. His shrieker cannon let loose with a series of regular projectiles, slicing through three Orks in front of him. Another approached from his right, swinging it's large axe with a guttural shout. In a feat of athleticism unmatchable by the warriors of most races, Dranc made a spinning, sidewards jump over the blade of the weapon, allowing it to sail harmlessly beneath him - while his momentum carried the scythe from his own Shrieker cannon straight through the arm of the Ork, severing it at the elbow, and sending the weapon in it's hand flying - toward another Ork, who barely had time to flinch before it collided with his face, ending his life.

"I'm afraid you've been disarmed, my friend," he quipped.

The Death Jester spun around on the spot, the scythe on his weapon now resting behind the waist of the Ork, which was staring in shock at the stump that used to be an arm. His Shrieker cannon fired off a single shot, colliding with another Ork running in the midst of a group of it's fellows. The Ork flinched as the monomolecular blade sliced into its torso, then paused, making panicked sounds as its skin began to bubble like boiling water - before, a moment later, it exploded violently, spraying acidic poison across its nearby fellows, who promptly fell to the ground, roaring in pain and anger. He pulled then pulled his cannon back, the scythe blade slicing the Ork in two at the waist.

Dranc turned as he heard an Eldar scream. The Fading Star, one of the troupe's players, now lay limp as a particularly large Ork Nob, practically painted head-to-toe in blood, roared in success. It turned as the Shade Weaver dropped down in front of it, eager to avenge his comrade. Shouting a challenge, the Harlequin leaped toward the leader of the Ork warband with dazzling speed that no regular Ork could hope to follow.

Not this Ork.

With speed and agility significantly beyond what he expected to see from its kind, the Ork brought it's weapon to bear, in a wide arc, connecting with the Player's Harlequin's Kiss and parrying it to the side before it connected and unleashed it's lethal payload. The startled Eldar's image flickered through his holo-field as he tried to bring his pistol to bear, but the Ork wasted no time, letting loose with a savage punch with its free hand. The enormous fist collided with the Harlequin, who flew several meters, before colliding with a tree and falling, unmoving, to the ground. If the first impact had not killed him, the second one surely had.

"You flowery boyz think you'z fast?" The blood-covered Nob let loose with a guttural laugh, "I'm Bloodface Gitkrumpa! Red wunz go faster, and I'm the reddest wun 'ere, so that makes ME the fastest!"

Dranc shook his head in disbelief. If there was ever an example of how absurdly effective a war machine the Old Ones had created, this was it - a feral ork in the back-end of nowhere, posing a significant threat to the followers of the Laughing God with naught but barbaric ritual and absurd belief. But the time for such musings was later. They had already lost five players - a full quarter of the troupe, and the Orks did not seem to have been inconvenienced by their losses at all thus far. They had to find an opening to retreat, but they were hard-pressed as it was...

"Interruption!"

Dranc hosed down another Ork with shuriken fire, while turning his head toward the familiar voice. His prayer to the Laughing God may have been answered.

Fallacy, the Solitaire, stood with arms held wide as she introduced herself to the skirmish. Her voice was so loud, so clear, and carried so far that the entire battle seemed to pause, even the trees stopping for a moment.

"Inexplicably impressive, impalpably impeccable... an intriguing individual intervenes!”

She twirled around, observing the bodies strewn around with a calm smile. "But who could this helpful heroine be, you ask? Why, it is none other than our humble narrator!" she turned to Dranc, "Please, hold your applause," she turned back to the enormous Ork Nob, which was now growling and edging toward her - more cautiously than before, as though it could sense that the being in front of it was different to the ones it had killed before, "Now then, I'm afraid you can not kill the important side-characters just yet. That would put quite a wrench in my narrative, you see," she sighed dramatically, "So, I shall bravely occupy your attention as they make good their escape!"

"You've got somefin' funny in those pointy earz," Gitkrumpa growled, "Because none of you lot is gettin' away!"

With a roar, he charged at the Solitaire, with the same deceptive speed as when he killed two of Dranc's fellows. His large axe crashed into the space she occupied - but she was no longer there. Instead, she was sitting on his shoulder.

"Now, I know what you're thinking..." she said in her same sing-song tone, disappearing again as the furious Ork tried to grab her from his shoulder. "It's that fancy gadget, right? That's how she's doing it." Gitkrumpa span around, axe held low in an attempt to cut her in two - only to hit thin air again. "However, you'd be wrong!" she wagged her finger chidingly, vanishing again as the Nob lashed out with a vicious back-hand. "You see, uh, Gitkrumpa," she tested the pronunciation, once again avoiding a blow that should have taken off her head, "I'm afraid this universe has been deviously deceptive! A severe secret has been kept from you!"

"WOT ARE YOU ON ABOUT!" Gitkrumpa roared in frustration as his axe smashed into the ground, shaking it slightly. His elusive enemy was unharmed - and stood, balanced perfectly, on the haft of his weapon.

In response, the Solitaire's entire demeanour seemed to change. Carefree smile became menacing grin, casual stance became terrifying readiness. Dranc felt it, as something in the very air they were breathing seemed to change, perceptibly, irrevocably.

"RED ONES", her voice seemed to come from everywhere at once, "AREN'T FAST ENOUGH."

Then, she blurred out of sight.

"WOT ARE YOU LOT DOIN?" the Nob finally shouted at his fellows, "DON'T JUST STAND THERE LIKE YOU'VE GOT SQUIGS FOR EYES, KRUMP THIS GIT!"

With that, the Orks, ignoring the other Harlequins, roared, charging toward their leader - flailing around in an attempt to fight the blur that seemed to vanish and re-appear in their midst. The trees had calmed, as well - Dranc was willing to attribute that to something Fallacy had done as well, but he did not understand the powers of a Solitaire any better than anyone else in the troupe. She was not killing them, or even fighting back - only dodging and laughing as they failed to hit her.

Dranc took the opportunity as intended, and ordered the rest of the Harlequins who were currently watching the scene, not knowing what to do. "Dark Troupe! We retreat, now! Back to the encampment!"

"What about the fallen?" The Shadow Duke cut in angrily, "Are we to leave them here, Dranc?"

"There is no time!" Dranc roared, "We will avenge them later but we need to live now! Death does not come for us yet!"

The Shadow Duke looked furious, but assented, and as one, the survivors of the troupe fell back as fast as possible, moving further and further away from the echoing sound of roaring, crashing, and loud, mocking laughter. This excursion could not be called anything but a failure. Foolishly, they had tried the brute force approach, leading to their being outwitted and ambushed by Orks. Of the twenty players of the Dark Troupe, only fifteen now returned. Had it not been for Fallacy's unexpected intervention, it would have been much more. Five deaths was a significant blow, one that they would be keen not to repeat.

It was a harsh lesson, but now they knew. They had to use their greatest weapon to succeed on this planet - not their swords, or pistols, or holo-fields.

No, they needed a different approach. They were going to do what they should have done from the start - and use their wits.

Spoiler:
Minor defeat. Ambushed by the Kommandoz of Koregog Da Bloody, losing a quarter of my Dark Troupe. That'll teach me to try and meet problems head on!


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/03/25 16:41:01


Post by: TheEyeOfNight



++HIVE COGGER//GOVERNORS SPIRE++

"They're becoming restless." Jael's half-whispered voice was right behind Lazarus as he pored over the communications reports one page at a time. "They've tasted blood and taken up arms, we cannot keep them here forever." She had an unnerving habit of appearing close at hand, and Lazarus was beginning to wonder what the late Lord Eisell had found attractive about her.

His mechanical eye took a flash-pict of one page before he moved on. "We were not ordained to march against the world, Jael." He discarded the page and selected another, skimming over the enclosed information. "We were sent to find the Amaranth, and nothing else."

"When we find it, we will no longer have an army." Lazarus took careful note of her use of the word 'we', but remained silent on the matter. Instead, he simply shook his head.

"You underestimate their faith."

"You overestimate their patience." She turned away indignantly, slipping unconsciously back into the haughty step of a noblewoman as she strode towards the yawning window of the governor's spire. "You promised them glory in the fall of their leaders. Give them something to whet their blades on. There is a greenskin horde, ferals, to the south. Use them. Season your army with their blood, and they will sit quiet long enough for you to find your prize."

She turned, silhouetted in the moon's sunrise, and Lazarus's eyes were fixed firmly on her. He debated, for more than a second, pitching her from the balcony and ending her ambition then and there. But perhaps, in his zeal to fulfill his mission, he was neglecting his followers. After a long moment, Lazarus returned his eyes to the papers in front of him, but his words spoke a single command.

"Open the Maw."

* * * *

The Maw.

A titanic portion of Hive Cogger's south wall, which in ages past, had collapsed after disrepair and a wicked storm tore it down. It had been rebuilt, albeit shoddily, and the seams where the old construction met the new were still visible to the trained eye. It had existed in Lazarus' plans as an alternate entry site: a means of getting into the city should the original infiltration fail. Had the worst occurred, his rebels would have blown the seams of the wall, brought the section crashing down, and stormed the city on foot. But the infiltration had succeeded, and spared them all the bloody stalemate of pouring an army through a funnel.

Now they had use of that very feature.

The explosives, mostly artillery shells stolen from the Cogger armories, were rammed into the wall in a giant 'V', outlining the seams where the old wall ended and the new began. Tons of explosives, enough to make a Titan give pause, were threaded one by one into a master firing sequence, and passed to Lazarus with enough ceremony to make the Ecclesiarchy envious.All the bloodshed and fire that had engulfed Hive Cogger, and all the dust and death which had been cast into the air during their coup, paled in a flash of light as the Maw was opened.

The shells detonated, shearing the massive wall free of its mortar and steel in a half-heartbeat of searing heat and power. The blast lit up the plains of Dierdra like the rising of a second sun, and there was no possibility that their prey missed seeing it. The ensuing concussive blast sent a cloud of debris rocketing outwards, accompanied by an apocalyptic groan as the wall began to fall away. Thousands of tons of ceramite and reinforcement crumbled to the ground, leaving a thick cloud of dust and ash hanging over the southern wall. It cleared slowly, with the coming wind, and revealed a gaping wound where Cogger was now open to the world.

The SkullSnake orks had to have taken note of the chaos engulfing the hive, and there was no feasible way they would miss the wall coming down. It was a trap, it was blatantly a trap, but the prize was too tantalizing for any proud ork to refuse.

By nightfall, the greenskin horde had arrived.

* * * *

They were arrayed in typical ork fashion: an unsubtle tide of green bodies, smoking machinery, and wildly waving banners flooding across the plain towards Hive Cogger. The ground had begun to tremble half an hour before, the first sign of the encroaching masses. As the orks had come into view of the gaping hole in the wall, the crude cavalry had been cut loose to travel, mounted on enormous wolf-like pigs.

All around the Maw, the rebels lay in wait. The lower levels, where the 'V' came to a point, where flooded with pyros: hand-built flamethrowers, sometimes consisting of little more than a can of Chimera fuel paired with a hand pump. Farther up the wall, a host of autoguns peeked around rubble and debris like spike traps, most with crude bayonets taped or tied to their barrels. Still higher, those who could manage to move the functioning artillery from the PDF stores were struggling to mount and sight the guns on top of any flat surface. They all fell silent as from the distance, almost mistakable for rolling thunder, came a guttural cry that shook new dust from the fallen wall.

WAAAAAAAGH!!!!

Lazarus stood atop a crumpled gargoyle, which had once adorned the crest of Hive Cogger's wall. It lay in ruin, with the rest of the Maw, and had fallen at an angle where it appeared to be screaming to the heavens rather than scowling down at those below. Lazarus planted his boot on top of its head, and despite not being one for symbolism, decided he liked the spot. Mordecai stood beside him, his shield-bearer, armed with little more than a pistol and a slab of tank armor, which was already pitted with gunshots from the riots. The man's faith was unshakable, even as his breathing grew faster beneath his mask. Jael stood to Lazarus's other side, wearing a dead PDF trooper's chestplate, and idly tapping the side of her autogun as she stared out at the horde.

Lazarus allowed himself a small smile, and lowered his voice so she could hear. "Your faith wavers."

"No." She lied, cradling the autogun into her shoulder and sighting down the barrel towards the surging ork horde. "My patience does."

"Temper your patience. This fight will tax it."

He drew his sword, a battered and worn relic of years of service. He had claimed it the same day that he claimed his coat: as a young man, in a vicious charge into an Imperial command unit, wrapping his hands around the colonel's throat and bearing him down. The man had taken a very long time to die, struggling and thrashing with every breath, punching and gouging until his last moment. Lazarus had respected him for that, drawn strength from his enemy's strength, and that day he earned the notice of the Flayed Lord and dark gods He served.

It seemed so very long ago. Perhaps it was.

The first of the ork riders were nearly to the wall, screaming and waving their weapons in all directions. Their blood was up, their vision was narrow, and their creatures were frothing at the mouth as as they swept down towards the Hive. Lazarus raised his sword, hearing the chattering echo of a thousand guns chambering, as a thousand fingers poised to fire, awaiting his command. He had always considered himself a humble man, but the sense of authority was occasionally intoxicating.

"For the Flayed Lord!"

The shout echoed around him, screamed in defiance and prayed in hope. A field of lights illuminated the base of the Maw as the flamers flickered to life. The ork riders began to close ranks, sweeping into the narrow crevice at the base of the Maw. Lazarus leveled his sword at the lead rider: a slavering feral dripping with fresh blood and warpaint. He imagined the fury of the Flayed Legion, channeled through his blade, piercing through the rider and into the horde beyond. Again, he gave the cry, a tremendous cheer, command, and prayer all in one.

"FOR THE FLAYED LORD!"

The first of the orks collided with their lines like a rogue meteor, and the Maw was bathed in fire and blood.

Spoiler:
Part 1/2


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/03/25 19:20:14


Post by: 2BlackJack1


Gorgrim looked around at the compound. Already walls and massive amounts of dakka had been set in place. Orks, grots, and squigs were hustling with activity, and several trukks were being loaded up with supplies for Gorgrim's voyage. The warboss had to fight Gorehound da Cook, the most prominent ork in the region. Once he fell, the rest of the orks would flock to his boss pole, and then the WAAAAGH could claim the entire region for the BadToof.

Seeing that his own trukk was ready, he climbed into the driver's seat and gunned the engine, knowing the rest of his boys would follow suit. The convoy rumbled forward, leaving a trail of trodden grass and black smoke behind them. From beneath Gorgrim's seat, there was the sound of tools clanking against one another and the mutter of a creature just waking up. "Grizby," Gorgrim laughed, and reached down, pulling out a grot and setting it on the dashboard. "Dats where ya went."

The grot shook his head, trying to get used to the sudden brightness. "Where we goin', boss?" The grot asked, and leaned out of the trukk, looking at the convoy close behind them.

"Weze gonna pay da local boss a visit. Den were gonna pay him a boot into his big green arse for trying ta be bigga and stronga den me." Grizby nodded and slinked down underneath the seat again, trying to get as much sleep as he could. Gorgrim ignored the grot and carried on driving, and pulled out a fat cigar while he lead the caravan.

It didn't take long for the small tide of engines and orks to reach an ork gathering, and even less time for Gorgrim to find Gorehound. A mob of feral orks and greenskins of WAAAAGH BadToof gathered around the two, and a mix of chants and boos came from the crowd when Gorgrim punched the other boss in the mouth. When the feral boss wiped his mouth, a tusk came off, and the ork glared at Gorgrim. "You'ze gonna pay for dat," as he said it the feral boss wrapped his meaty hands around Gorgrim, and dragged him to the ground. As the two warbosses dueled, the entire mob broke out in fighting, yoof against boy, nob against nob. The two warbosses dealt colossal blows to one another, but neither could gain the upper hand.

Ever so slowly, Gorehound's orks began to win the battle, pushing Gorgrim's orks further and further away from their settlement. Seeing that it was a losing battle, Gorgrim pushed Gorehound away from him, and took one last look at the battered warboss before giving the order to fall back. Gorehound was missing one tusk, and had blood dripping down from his head, but Gorgrim knew he didn't look any better. WAAAAGH BadToof left Gorehound's camp in shame, and only had threats and promises of revenge to heal the damage done to them.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/03/26 03:16:14


Post by: War Kitten


Thirianna stood amidst the tree line and stared hatefully at the mon’keigh fort. After delivering her report to Lilliana, Thirianna had been ordered to guide a small raiding force back to the fort. Autarch Karek had wished to test their defenses, and so a small force of 6 Jetbikes and a Vyper had been dispatched with Thirianna back to the fort. Their job had been simple, see what defenses the humans had been able to set up, and then report back. It sounded simple, the kind of plan that Thirianna liked, but it had all somehow gone wrong. She had first suspected that something was wrong when no cries of alarm had gone up from the humans when the Jetbikes had shot out of the treeline and darted towards the fort, and they didn’t realize that there was a problem until far too late. Just as the lead biker crossed the halfway mark between the fort and the treeline, he jerked violently from his saddle in a welter of gore, almost as if an invisible fist had punched him in the chest. He was swiftly followed by 3 more of his kin, each one of them being jerked violently from their saddles. The 3 remaining bikes and the Vyper, including their leader Mikael, had opted to carry on, and they continued on to the mon’keigh fort, perhaps believing that their speed would protect them from whatever had claimed their fellows. They were wrong. First the Vyper was obliterated by a beam of light that had stabbed out from the battlements, and then two heartbeats later 2 of the three bikers were shot out of their saddles, killed instantly just as their compatriots had been, and Mikael…..
By some cruel twist of fate Mikael was not killed when he was smashed from his saddle, the blessing laid upon the squad by Lilliana had spared him from dying like his comrades had. But when he landed he was pinned by the wreckage of his bike, and Thirianna could do nothing but scream in rage as she saw the mon’keigh leave their fort and drag Mikael inside, and his screams of pain had gone on for hours. Thirianna could only pray that they had killed him after getting whatever information they were after, but by that same token she was afraid that he had given up their location, and so after his screams trailed off she found herself sprinting back to the jetbike that she had stashed further back amongst the trees. She had to warn her kin of the oncoming storm. If the gods were merciful then they would have time to evacuate and move to safer territory. As she was running Thirianna thought of the Harlequins that Lilliana had been able to get in contact with, and she sighed as she ran. It would be awkward for them to ask for help from the sons and daughters of Cegorach, but Thirianna knew that their pride could survive a blow or two, it wasn’t as if they had much choice in the matter anyway….

Lilliana stood silently with her Seer Council as the last of the Wave Serpents glided into the forest. After receving the frantic report from Thirianna the camp had become a madhouse of activity, as the Eldar raced to pack up and move before the humans found them. It was entirely possible that the humans hadn’t found out their location, but the Eldar hadn’t survived this long by being incautious, and so the decision was made to displace and move. She had seen in a vision where their cousins were encamped and so she had ordered her Warhost to move into Indo-Cambria to link with them. She just hoped that the Harlequins would allow them to set up their own camp near theirs. She sighed again and rubbed her temples, and with a weary sigh she ordered her Warhost to make haste towards their destination.

Spoiler:
Moving into Indo-Cambria


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/03/26 08:03:31


Post by: Kharne the Befriender


=====Strikebase Armageddon, Clerth, Naraya, Crion=====

Exitar walked around the edge of the base and looked into the forest, peering into the sea of green flora before him. The trees were close, quite close, they would have to be felled, he would not risk an ambush. He walked over to the Hangar where Ogun was currently working on the Nasus, one of the doors wasn’t running optimally and he wasn’t having it.
“Ogun, how goes the door.” Ogun was slightly surprised, enthralled in his work he did not hear the Chaplain approach.
“It is working better, but I will keep an eye on it.” He retracted the arms of his servo-harness from the door and stood from his kneeling position. He closed and opened the door until he felt satisfied with his work.
“So what brings you here Exitar? How may I be of service?”
“These trees are rather close to the base, they must be felled back. I’d rather not risk an ambush.”
“Sounds reasonable, I will get to it.”

-----Several Hours Later-----

Ogun was overseeing the last of the trees fall when several men approached from his left. They carried a variety of equipment that denoted their occupations as lumberjacks. Perhaps they came from the local village to assist the Astartes?
“What the feth is going on here? Your killing our trees!”
He guessed not, but was less pleased with their tone. He strolled over and met the men half way. Oguns home planet had a similar society to Crion, he figured he would show them respect and perhaps they would return it.
“What seems to be the problem citizens?”
“Your cutting down our trees, at least a couple thousand thrones worth if I’m to be accurate.” This man appeared to be the leader of the trio.
“My apologies, perhaps we can work something out with the local leader of… where do you come from?”
“We’re from Darby, you’ll have to tal-” The man stopped and watched as Exitar approached.
“What brings you here citizens?”
“Your friend here cut down our trees.” Exitar looked at Ogun, then back at the lumberjacks.
“Watch your tongue, you speak to the God-Emperor’s angels of death. Know your place citizen.”
“R-right, s-sorry sir. I was just about tell your friend that the Priest Sigmun is the town leader.”
“I shall speak with him, show me the way citizen.”
“Ye-yes sir.”

=====Darby, Clerth, Naraya, Crion=====

Exitar followed the lumberjacks into the town of Darby, a small town based on agricultural trade, he could see why they were angry about the trees. The group walked into a building which was much larger and much nicer than the other ones. The outside of the building was impressive but the inside was more so, it was adorned with paintings and statues of the Emperor. There were about 15 citizens sitting in the pews listening to the Priest Sigmun preach about the Emperor. He was in the middle of a psalm when his eyes fell upon the hulking form that had just entered the building. Sigmun kept his eyes on Exitar but spoke to the lead lumberjack.
“Welcome back Nathaniel, I see you have brought us a guest.” He seemed absolutely delighted to be in the presence of an Astartes.
“We found him cutting our trees an-”
“OUR trees? Nathaniel, these are the Emperor's angels and we should show them the utmost respect.” By this time he was addressing the congregation.
“As Imperial citizens and servants of the God-Emperor we should do all we can to accommodate them. They are the ones who face the Evils we only dream of, it is them who uphold the Imperium.” He took a pause. “We will meet here again tomorrow at noon.”
Everyone began to leave the building, Nathaniel walked by the Chaplain and stopped, “Forgive me for my earlier trespasses, but stay away from my Trees.”
“Go citizen, go and serve the Emperor.” Nathaniel walked off, still somewhat angry about the trees. Exitar stared at him until he was out of sight, when he had turned around Sigmun was approaching.
“My apologies for the boy, he’s been a lumberjack his whole life, he gets defensive about the trees. So how may I serve you Astartes?” Sigmun gave a deep bow. Exitar returned the gesture with a nod.
“With information. I seek an enemy we believe to be lurking nearby, perhaps even in these woods.”
“That explains the trees then.”
“I deemed it necessary to reduce the risk of ambush.”
“A very wise choice. There is a man here, he lives on the outskirts of the village, but he has been speaking of monsters in the woods, but many wave it off as superstition.”
“Which way priest?”
“Over that way, it’s about a 5 minute walk, his name is Trotter.”
“Thank you citizen, We will call upon you if we have any need of aid.”
“We would be delighted to help Astartes.” Exitar turned and left without another word, adamant on gleaning what information he could. The walk for an average man would have been five minutes but Exitar had it down to two. As he walked down the dirt road he spotted a shack by the edge of the woods, it was poorly constructed but it served its purpose none the less. He approached the front door and knocked. A door slowly opened as a frightened man slowly looked out from behind it. Upon realizing it was an Astartes he opened the door, looking around as if he was expecting an assassin.
“Are you the one called Trotter?”
“I am, Lord Astartes, come in quickly, before they find us.” Surely Sigmun had left out the part about the paranoia.
He walked into the humble housing and glanced around the room, and found it fared no better than the outside.
“What brings you here Lord Astartes?” The man often moved from window to window as if looking for an advancing enemy.
“I hear you have seen monsters, describe to me what you have seen.” With these words the man froze with what was fear of either Exitar, or the mention of monsters, perhaps both.
“I only spotted one, it was a couple days ago by the forests edge, it was fast, swift and agile. It ran on two legs and was much taller than a man. I didn’t see much but I ran, I have never seen anything so… so… inhuman.”
“Thank you citizen, that’s all I needed to hear.” He began to walk towards the door when the man spoke again.
“The monsters, are they why you’re here? Have you come to save us?” Exitar only turned his head, he wasn’t quite sur of his answer, but spoke regardless.
“If these ‘Monsters’ are the ones i think they are, there will be none left breathing, you have nothing to worry about citizen.” The man seemed extremely relieved with the Chaplains words, but Exitar did not. He traveled back to base, this newest revelation was good, but maybe it wasn’t.

=====Strike Base Armaggedon, Clerth, Naraya, Crion=====


Exitar was immediately welcomed back to base, he spoke to the nearest marine and inquired Ogun’s position. After locating the Terminator plate clad Marine he walked up to him while looking at the small walls that had been erected.
“New line of defense I see?”
“Thought it would be good to help fortify the area. Plus, you can never have enough defense.”
“I was able to speak with one of the villagers, he described monsters he saw in the forest.”
“I’m not surprised, the reports said there’s some pretty grizzly wildlife here, and many feral orks.”
“What he described sounded almost unmistakably like Eldar.” Ogun’s demeanor took a 180 degree turn. He turned and stared at the forest line just barely visible over the walls. He stared for a while. He walked towards the wall and spoke on his way out.
“I feel we’re going to need better walls.” Ogun spent the last few hours of the day erecting more defences, a scanner, and a lascannon, he worked partially through the night until he felt confident with his work.

-----The Following Day-----

Exitar awoke to much activity amongst the base, something was awry… odd, the alarms had not been sounded. Ogun ran over to the Chaplain. He seemed both angry and delighted. His helmet was off and he bore a grin that displayed his serrated teeth.
“Exitar, your villager friend is not as crazy as you described, we have picked up energy signatures coming from the forest line.”
“Is it Eldar?”
“We believe so.” The thought that Eldar were close by stoked Exitar’s anger, it was times like this his skill shined. He stood behind the wall that had a panorama of the forest. Oguns word proved true, as six Jetbikes and an Vyper emerged from the forest line.
“Brothers! Look upon these muling savages as they are lead to slaughter!” He stayed looking at the Eldar approach, but spoke to the Tactical Squad, Besnardi, that manned the defensive line.
“They wish to test their mettle against ours! They shall have no such satisfaction. Reduce them to a feast brothers.” By the time that the Heavy Bolters began firing the Eldar were half way through the open. The Explosive rounds impacted reducing the occupants of the Jetbikes to a duo of gore and legs. One took a shot to the leg and fell off, he screamed as he tried to place his insides back in his body, his head met with a Bolter round soon after. The Vyper made headway towards the fort until a Lascannon shot struck the vehicle causing it to explode, of the occupants that survived, all but one screamed as fire slowly turned their bodies into a charred carcass. Exitar bathed himself in their screams and relished every second of it. When the firing stopped and the smoked cleared, it was evident that a single Eldar had survived, Battle Brother Venarus roared to those present.
“One lives! Allow me the honors!” He began to raise his bolter when Exitar stopped him.
“Wait Brother, perhaps this one may show us where the rest of these animals are. Go Brothers, reap what you have sown and feast on their corpses.” Venarus was displeased with the lack of killing, but was delighted for the following feast. The men took off their helmets revealing their pale skin, black eyes, and serrated teeth. The men began to gorge themselves on the piles of gore on the field, drenching themselves in blood. Exitar strolled over to the living Eldar, still stunned from the explosion and in no shape to fight. He grabbed him by the hair and began to drag him back to base, he savored his screams of pain as he dragged him through the field. Before they entered the base he held the Eldar up and made him watch as the Marines feasted upon his kin. He took him to one of the storage rooms where Ogun was. Upon entering Ogun turned and started to roar as he saw the Eldar captive.
“Why does it live?”
“We will try to extract information from it, we will find the rest of it’s heard and kill them. Besides, I believe Taranis would like the honors when he returns.” Ogun pondered this for awhile, his anger simmering down to a cold hate for Eldar.
“You are right Exitar, I shall bind him to a chair.” Ogun threw the half-conscious Eldar into a metal chair and proceeded to tie him down at the wrists, ankles, legs, torso, arms, and neck. He was completely trapped and couldn’t fight back. Ogun used the pilot light on his flamer to brand the Eldars arm. It screamed and writhed in pain, but was fully awake, it stared venomous daggers into Exitar.
“Who are you?” He was met with silence.
“What Craftworld are you from?” Exitar knew, but tried to see if he could get any information. He did not, he looked at the amulet that hung from the Eldar’s neck. He reached out and plucked it from it’s place, the Eldar’s change of expression was all Exitar needed.
“Ah, this must be your soul stone.” He tossed it onto a table in front of the chair and stood to the side. The Eldar never took his eyes off of it. Exitar brought his Crozius Arcanum down on the stone with the swift might of the Emperor’s justice. The stone shattered in a small explosion, but was no more. Exitar shouted at the Eldar who was struggling against his binds.
“Tell me what I want to know or I will feed you to Slaanesh!” The Eldar was obviously worried, but held his resolve. Exitar knelt in front of the creature.
“I will ask you one more time, who leads your Warhost?” He was met yet again with silence.
“I see.” The Eldar screamed and wailed in pain as Exitar began ripping fingers off of its hand.
“Lillianna, It is Farseer Lillianna!” Exitar stopped with three fingers remaining. The Eldar quickly passed out from the sheer amount of pain it was experiencing. He stood and looked to Ogun, who looked quite hungry from the process.
“Stop its bleeding, get Artemis here and make sure it lives. We may have our information yet.”
“Farseer Lillianna… these are the Eldar we’ve been hunting, truly the Emperor smiles upon us.”
“The Emperor protects brother.” Exitar left the building and looked as the men from Squad Mokkaran brought back much Eldar remains for their brothers to feast on. He was proud to see such camaraderie amongst the men.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/03/27 13:58:27


Post by: Sgt_Smudge


"Strike from the skies!"

Blood, earth and light. Pulse bombs ravaged the surface of Crion. Actinic blue light flashed through the broken buildings.
The ruins of the Blood Dragon stronghold were shaken by the colossal impact of pulse bombs. Sun Shark bombing wings, like avenging angels, streaked over the black steel skeleton of the fortress. Their path was marked by fountains of dirt and debris, tearing through the meagre ground resistance.
Since Shas'vre Ghostwalk's failed reconnaissance attempt, the ork patrols had increased. Spiders scuttled across the ground incessantly. Typical insertion would be impossible for a second recon team.
Shas'O Skyhunter was anything but typical.

The silent Tau aircraft caught the greenskins completely unawares, slaughtering them as they turned their thick faces to the sky. They attempted to hurl their boom spears at the aircraft, but it was useless. With every second, their numbers were being whittled down by relentless bombing runs. Their mounts turned and sped into the safety of the dragon's mouth, scuttling into the earth. The pilots of the Sun Sharks continued their onslaught, using the mapped co-ordinates of the underground ruins to target the weak points in the infrastructure and bring it down on the orks heads.
One bomb managed to impact against the feral orks' armoury. The ground was thrust upwards by the explosion of fuels and boom spears from inside it, like a desperate beast trying to burst from the land. Masonry, debris and burning earth all fell from the sky, as if in slow motion. From far back at Cadre Command, Skyhunter watched from his Crisis suit. A vengeful smile was plastered on his strong face.
"Phase Two, begin."

A lone Orca dropship, boxy against the sleek Sun Sharks circling above the target site, dropped into the fray. Automated drone intelligence systems on both the Orca and the Sun Sharks above regulated the rate of dropped pulse munitions from the bombers, and made subtle adjustments to the Orca's flight path. Pulse bombs fell like falling stars around the Orca, but none harmed it's flat flanks. Inside the landing craft, Shas'ui Tsa'lan readied her pulse carbine.

She had taken a smaller contingent of her own squad this time, with only four companions alongside her own drone support. Gue'vesa'ui Harland had taken a similar squad of his own Pathfinders. His bonding knife was strapped to his pulse carbine, a 'bayonet', as he called it. Shas'vre Ghostwalk and his men had not been selected for the operation. Not only was his Ghostkeel suit unoptimised for the tunnels, but Skyhunter had insisted on a smaller battlefield presence and value. He would give commands to the recon team directly from Cadre Command, and monitor their progress. Instead, Ghostwalk's unit was replaced by Shas'ui Tash'var Shovah Fio'tak. He was tinkering endlessly with his markerlight calibrator, a sniper drone sat in his lap. The rest of his flock of drones sat dormant above him, strapped into the drone compartments. He didn't look up to face Tsa'lan, but she could tell that he knew she was looking at him. The Orca pilot's voice spilled out of the speakers.

"++Drop in a few moments. Prepare for green light and disembarkation. You'll only have a few moments before the bombers hit again. Good luck.++"

The Pathfinders rose from their seats, and prepared to disembark. Fio'tak's drones wakened to readiness, hovering silently in the troop compartment. The light flickered to red, signalling their imminent landing. Typical protocol would mean the troops had twenty seconds until disembarkation.
Their landing would not be typical.

Surrounded by falling bombs and volatile debris and chain explosions from inside the ruined armoury, Skyhunter had countermanded the conventional drop, and would forgo the landing stage altogether. The Orca would sweep over the ground at low speed and the recon team would throw themselves out. They would then have to make a sprint from their landing zone to the relative safety of the underground tunnels. The plan relied on rapid insertion, speed, and pinpoint timing. And the drop was coming in seconds.
Green light swept the compartment.

"Out! Now!" Tsa'lan shouted as she flung herself out of the barely opened hatch.
The rest of the team followed. Their legs bent as they met the scorched earth, and broke into a run. The sniper drones soared past the Pathfinders, their anti-grav engines making them faster than the infantry. Even Tsa'lan found herself outpaced by the Gue'vesa in the fireteam, the humans' longer legs covering ground faster than the other Tau. They descended into darkness first, swallowed up by the dragon's leering maw. Tsa'lan felt the sun blocked out behind her, and chanced a look back. Her men were inside, safe. The Orca rose back into the sky, it's hull black against the bright sky. Then the bombs fell again, and the ground was wiped clean.
Tsa'lan rejoined her comrades in the tunnels.

------------------------------------------------------------------

The orks and their mounts had been driven further down than anyone had expected.
The Pathfinders had made rapid progress through the debris-littered halls. Murals and frescoes on the walls, long since faded and obscured by dust, had been cracked and broken by the barrage. The bombing had now ceased, half a dec after the initial insertion, yet their sound still carried through the passageways. As they crept through, the Pathfinders passed by the bloodied bodies of orks and spiders alike whose brains had been crushed by falling chunks of stone. With each one they passed, the team grew more jubilant. Every so often, a Pathfinder in the team would set down a marker beacon at structure points or large chambers and hallways. Skyhunter watched the team's progress through Fio'tak's eyes, and his command staff would plan out the rest of the cadre's assault on Nogrod's throne of power. With each new turn, a new staging post was set up, and more strategies and contingency plans set up.
The cadre would be ready.

Tsa'lan and Harland had made it to the inner core of the ruins when Fio'tak called for them to halt.
"What is it, Shas'ui?" Harland spoke through his helmet comms. "Trouble ahead?"

"Not quite." The Tau seemed confused. "My markerlights are seeming to have some... refraction effect up ahead. I've tested my calibration, but it's not my systems that are faulty. Just giving you a heads-up."

"++Your observation is correct and astute, Fio'tak.++" Skyhunter's voice seemed distorted as it played through the team comm-network. "++Our signal to you seems weaker. Most of my Shas'El think there is some kind of electronic interference, but Gue'vesa'El Vandred thinks there may be some kind of psychic influence. Seeing as you Gue are far more attuned to these magiks than any of my kin, I want Shas'ui Harland to scout up ahead and identify any kind of local magiks. Can you do that for me, Harland?++"

"Right away, si- Commander." The human crept up around the corner, his body hung low to the dirty wall. The rest of the recon team hung back, their weapons ready to support Harland if he was under threat. The Gue'vesa disappeared for a few seconds, before he popped back around the corner.
"Vandred's right, Commander. The bastards have set up a psychic shield just down the corridor. I think it seals off the inner chambers from any kind of damage or electronic signal."

"++Are you sure about this? Have you tested passing through the shield?++"

"One step ahead of you, Commander. I can pass through it, but my markerlight can't register through it, and my pulse pistol only seems to impact against the shield. It works both ways, naturally."

"++Good work, Gue'vesa'ui. Set beacons around it's perimeter as far as you can, give us an idea about it's size. Fio'tak, try and analyse it's arc and chord size to give us an idea of what's in there. I'll stay in contact, but for now, find somewhere to lay low and avoid detection.++"

------------------------------------------------------------------

The Pathfinders pulled back, taking refuge in a small chamber off of a side corridor. Judging from the lack of glyphs and cobwebs from inside it, it had likely been missed by even the feral orks that prowled the tunnels. They set up camp here, leaving the drones on sentry duty as the Pathfinders set about mapping the inner ruins and calculating the size of the psychic shield. Harland approached Tsa'lan, who was munching on a nutrient bar. She looked to face him.

"What is it, comrade?" she began.

Harland sat down beside her. Like many of the other humans in the cadre, his face sported hair around his cheeks, mouth and chin. For a Tau, this was utterly alien, but Tsa'lan had found it rather normal after a while. "Shas'ui-"

"Please, call me Tsa'lan. The name's not quite settled in yet."

"Tell me about it - half of the time I don't even remember what rank I am any more." They both laughed for a second before Harland became serious again. "Tsa'lan, I wanted to ask your opinion on this assignment."

"What of it?"

"Well, we're at a lot of risk here. I've done the maths - there is no way we can extract out of these ruins safely and have a dropship ready to escort us out. There simply isn't time to scramble one for us. And if we're caught, I'm not sure if we can hold off from them all down here."

Tsa'lan couldn't help but allow herself to be intrigued by the human's thoughts. "We're in deep recon, Harland. This is what we do."

"What we used to do, you mean? Under the command of that Ethereal, Warp take his remains." Tsa'lan looked at him funnily. "Sorry, it's a human phrase. Still, Skyhunter could have sent in drones before us. There's no need for us to be here."

"Well, the drones still need a controller, one who has a close control link to them. If we sent a drone in alone, what if they got stuck in these webs?" She wanted to sound convincing, but she knew she didn't. Harland knew it too.

"Tsa'lan, listen to me. We shouldn't be down here. And look - the highest ranker we have here is us and that drone controller. That's it. There are plenty of Shas'ui and other Pathfinders that can take our place. There's not even that many of us down here. All our orders are coming from Cadre Command, but we have no command representative here with us."

"What are you suggesting?"

Harland rose to his feet, looking down on the Tau. She could sense waves of worry emanating off of him.
"This isn't just a recon mission. This is a suicide mission."


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/03/28 01:13:08


Post by: Sgt. Vanden


Before The Banquet…
The scouts had returned, and with them, they brought news. Good news. They had found what appeared to be an ork settlement. They identified key targets within the camp, and even spotted someone who looked as if they commanded the rabble. Good, Iodius thought. To kill him would be to sever the head of the green menace in the Namrex dunes. As such, Iodius mustered the majority of his force. A sandstorm not too different than the one they had gotten lost in was also headed the orks way. They would use that as a way of getting to their objective unseen, and then they would jump out and cleanse the area of any greekskins. A direct plan, Iodius thought, one that can go wrong many ways, but they could not spare any time. The sandstorm prevented air support, and the sandstorm was also interfering with the transmitters, making an area bombardment inaccurate. No. They had to do it this way. Iodius prayed that the sandstorm would not lead them away once more, for an opportunity like this does not often pop up. Four drop pods were ready for drop, and once the signal and coordinates were transmitted, they would land upon the enemy like meteors of fury. Thirty Space Marines were waiting in the drop pods, the last one occupied by Ancient Keldas, the chapter’s last dreadnought. Former captain of the 3rd company, he was entombed in the sarcophagus over a hundred years ago, the majority of his body melted away after a direct hit from a Tau broadside. He survived by sheer willpower and stubbornness. The internment did nothing to that same stubbornness, bar increase his hatred of the xenos. He had yet to see any action during the campaign, which Iodius thought he would change that.

They packed four rhinos to capacity, and another two razorbacks. They were accompanied by ‘Danc Maimes’ and ‘Light of Edun’, both Destructor pattern. Iodius sat inside the crew compartment of his razorback, with him, the five members of his command squad. Merik, veteran, and bearer of a rare plasma-gun. Alianor, another veteran, he had lost his arm in the Oxion crusade, but his replacement was ever more powerful than the previous. He held his power sword, and brandished his bolt pistol. He was ready for the coming fight. Apothecary Apolonus tinkered with his narcethium, always trying to improve it. Honoured Brother Carak held the banner sidewards, though the actual fabric never touched the ground. He had held the banner for over two hundred years, and he had never let it go. The last member of the command squad was Cedric. New Company champion, an adept with the sword, but had yet to properly prove himself to Iodius. This coming battle would be a good start, thought Iodius. They were nearing the target, and so far, they were undetected.
The drivers voice sounded in Iodius’ ear.
“Two minutes until we arrive at the greenskins doorstep”
“Thank you, we shall be ready.”
“Aye we shall, I’ve been waiting to bloody my blade for ages…” Alianor chimed in, always eager for the fight Iodius thought.
“There will always be time for that. You of all people should know that.” This was the first time Iodius had a command squad, and he didn’t know what to think of it yet. He did not like the idea of being babysitted around the battlefield, yet even he could not argue the efficiency of it.
“Come Chaplain, stop with your sentimentality. You can’t say you’re not eager for this?” Iodius smiled
“Aye I am eager, I’m just being subtle about it.”
“I never took you as a subtle one Chaplain…” Apolonus looked up from his toy. He was aged, and looked twice his actual age. His once black hair was now purely silver, looking as if his head was bionic. Far from the truth, he didn’t have a single bit of bionic on him.
“Since when do you speak Apolonus? I thought you the more silent one…” Merik included himself the convesation.
“I speak when I have something to say. Usually the majority of your conversations are pure stupidity, so I don’t bother myself with it.”
“Pah, that’s just being rude! You don’t say anything because you can’t think of anything witty to say!” Alianor exclaimed.
“Anything I say in your presence is witty…” Apolonus sighed and went back to tinkering
“Thirty seconds ‘till drop-off” The pilot’s voice was heard again.
“You heard him! Everybody ready!” Iodius was on his feet, Litany of Fury on his lips, and hand on his Crozius. “We surround as many greenskins as we can, kill any you see, but leave the leader to me. I
Have a score to settle.”
Apolonus holstered his bolter and finished working on his narcethium, Alianor held his Power Sword in an iron grip, Merik had unslung his plasma-gun, Carak unfurled the banner, keeping it tilted to avoid contact with the ground, and at last, Cedric brandished his sword and shield like a babe clung to his bottle, wherever he went, they were with him.
“Where’s the subtlety now Chaplain?” Merik mused
“Shut up Merik.”

The battle was one-sided from the start. The assault began with the withering salvoes from the two predators, followed by the razorback’s heavy bolter fire. The orks stationed at the crude walls were cut down in moments, their bodies torn to ribbons as high calibre shells ripped through them. The rhinos and razorbacks moved through the walls, which seemed to open up as the tanks collided with them. Such was the power and nature of the attack. Orks caught in the way of the oncoming vehicles were either shot or taken by the tracks of the several hundred kilogram tank. Twenty secons after the assault began the drop pods landed, each disgorging a hail of fire and zealous warriors. Keldas laughed as he poured plasma over the orks, always happy to help in purging. Surprisingly, the orks managed to muster a counter attack, though it was like a wave breaking upon rocks. Then Iodius saw him. A massive ork, saddled onto an even larger boar. It wore a standard issue commissariat cap, and held a massive gun. Even as he rode into battle, he was shooting it at the mass of bodies around him, mostly orks. Iodius made good time getting to him, only having to kill seven orks before finally the leader looked at him.
“Wot are you doin in me camp Space Marine? You lot betta get out ‘efore I have you all BLAMMED! I’z da Kernal ere, and I says PISS OFF!” With that, the ork ushered his mount to charge at Iodius. Easy enough to predict, thought Iodius. He sidestepped the rampaging boar and brought his Crozius to bear, bringing down both rider and mount. He put a bolt through the eye of the boar before turning and charging the recovering ork, only to be blasted aside by its giant weapon.
“YOU KILLED (Name of Boar)! DIDN’T I TELL YA TA ZOG OFF ALREADY?!” His voice was edged with anger, and even traces of fear. “ZOG OFF YA WEEDY GIT! DAKKADAKKADAKKADAKKA!” A hail of bullets that would shame an assault cannon stitched their way towards Iodius, who had barely enough time to bring up his arm to block the majority of the bullets. He felt at least six tear through his armour and rent his skin, nevertheless, he arose once more and charged the downed ork, who had probably broken a few ribs from firing the weapon. He swatted aside the gun with his Crozius and brought it down hard on the orks head. The ork lay sprawled on the ground, stunned, and ready for death.
“Youz…Youz can’t kill me…I’ze your soupeerior…”
“There’s been a change in command.” Iodius was about to bring down his Crozius to finish off the marchief, but was interrupted by a loud squeal.
“Eeeeekk!” The chief’s boar sidetacked Iodius, sending him flying off to the side.
“(Name of Boar), YOU CAME BACK FOR ME!” The Kernal climbed back onto the beasts saddle and made his way from the battlefield, “DIS AIN’T OVER SPACE MARINE! I KNOW WHERE YA LIVE NOW!”

With the departure of their Warboss, the remaining orks made a swift retreat. Many orks had been killed, but their leader made his escape. Iodius was still happy, he had shown the orks they had plenty of teeth, and ready to bite whenever the need arose. Iodius had already administered the rites for the dead, and was making his way back to his razorback.
“Didn’t think that boar had a thick of a skull as you did ya?” Once again Merik teased Iodius.
“Shut up Merik”

Iodius and Ceasar were talking in one of the tents.
“So this banquet, who are we going with?” Ceasar asked
“We? Since when were you coming along?”
“Since you couldn’t be a diplomat even if the Emperor himself asked you.”
“True, but do we really need an entourage to accompany us there?”
“Of course we do, it’ll get the other attendees talking. Plus if something goes on down there, then we’ll show that they’re not just for good looks and style.”
“Ugh fine…But I swear to the Emperor if you bring too many…”
“Don’t worry old friend, I’ll keep it subtle.”


“Subtle you said? THIS IS HALF OF OUR VETERANS! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING!”
“Making a point. We’re not here to fool around, this merely proves that.”
“If you were trying to make a point, then you could have gone about it in a better way than this…”
“I know, but it’s always fun annoying you.”
“One of these days Ceasar…”


Somewhere on Crion
His screams could be heard throughout the cave. Loud, tortured, and filled with hate.
“Once again, I will ask you Chapter Master, where is your previous Lord’s sword?”
“I do not know! I have told you this…” The figure was bound in chains, and his ribcage had been torn open. “Why do you do this to me…I am no servant of the Ruinous Powers…”
“Oh but my clueless Chapter Master…You will be…” He chuckled, the ‘I’ on his forehead barely noticeable in the dark. “All shall feel Pne--The great lords embrace eventually…”
The screams resounded as Aladar’s ribs were once again broken and moved.
“Tell my lord that the location of the sword will be found eventually. He shall have it very soon.”


Spoiler:
Rolled victory, cleansed area of many orks, but the leader got away



Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/03/28 21:03:59


Post by: Robin5t


The City of Ros Hannoi, Tonken, Indo-Cambria

Ros Hannoi was the largest Human settlement on the continent of Indo-Cambria - and in fact, the only major settlement that had managed to stand tall against both the local wildlife and the feral Orks that infested the region. As such, it was usually well-patrolled and defended -however, despite their defences, the city slept, not knowing that they were currently playing host to two shadows from another species that night.

The two Mimes had been watching the city through the day, identifying priority targets. Once the sun had set, they got to work - one heading to the barracks of the local guard force to plant a series of devices there, the other heading to the district that housed the economic upper class and nobility to plant a series of devices in the communal eating and drinking areas there, before moving onto what they had identified as the office of the city's leader to do the same. The devices were extremely small, gave off no emissions of any kind, had small, built-in holo-fields to even fool the natural eye, and were even resistant to psychic detection due to their wraithbone construction - not that the humans were likely to have a psyker precise enough capable of matching subtlety with the Eldar. The purpose of these devices was simple and twofold - to record conversations, and to subtly read the minds of those around them, transmitting the information back to the Harlequins' main encampment in real-time, where Imryll, Cuddio and a team of Mimes would decipher what was useful and what was not.

It didn't matter what nation, what species and what level of technological development the city you were infiltrating happened to have, the best areas to find out really useful information all tended to be the same: communal areas for the upper class, communal areas for the military, and the office of the leader. Knowledge like that had been built up by the Masque of the Blameless Culprit over a long period: for some reason, they often found themselves recruiting Shadowseers who were excellent at illusions and mind manipulation, but with significantly less ability to read the Skein of fate and see the future. In an attempt to stay current, the Masque had taken notes from the Commorites - and put listeners in several Craftworlds, where they would report any major visions they became aware of back to the Masque where they could decide to act upon them.

The Masque soon discovered that visions were not the only information that an informant could provide for them - and, extending their fledgling network further, quickly found that while prophecy could tell you an end result, real-time information could give you the tools you needed to craft the end result you desired. They expanded the network even further - across several Craftworlds both minor and major, corsair strongholds, they even had eyes and ears in Commoragh - though they were fairly certain this was only because Asdrubael Vect allowed them to. Harlequins received allowances in the Dark City that few others did, but it was best not to push the Supreme Overlord. They learned more about their craft - how to create listening devices and the best places to put them, who were easy and useful targets for subversion and the tactics required to do so, how to tell if an asset has been compromised, how to utilise information without drawing suspicion to your asset.

This infiltration, while small in scope, was merely the first step in the Masque's attempt to ultimately create a planet-wide information network that supplied them with information from all the major settlements. It was also a success - both Mimes planted their respective packages and left the city unnoticed, heading toward their extraction point, where two skyweaver jetbikes were awaiting them.

Spoiler:
Minor victory - we infiltrated Ros Hannoi and bugged the place, the mayor's office in particular, while getting away cleanly.


______________________________________________

Jorgon, Indo-Cambria

"High Avatar," Imryll approached the Great Harlequin, "We have an issue."

Feubryn had been awaiting word from either of the missions they currently had operating - Dranc and the Dark Troupe to trim the local Feral Ork population, and Cuddio's Mimes and their all-important infiltration. He turned to face the Shadowseer. "What is it, my dear?"

"The Craftworlders are coming. Here. Now," Imryill responded bluntly.

He stared at her for a moment. "Are you certain?"

"No, High Avatar," she deadpanned, "It is something I simply made up to mock you."

"Sarcasm is unbecoming of you," he replied, giving her a gimlet eye, not that she would notice behind his mask, "This is unfortunate! I hoped to meet them on our terms and dazzle them with our mystique!"

"We still have a few minutes," Imryll pointed out.

"Then there is no time to lose!" Feubryn sprang into action, calling out to both of the troupes present, "Everyone! Quickly, amass by the Webway gate, and put on your best 'We have been expecting you' poses! Yes, Sun Prince, that is perfect," he nodded appreciatively at the leader of the Light Troupe, "Follow the Sun Prince's example, Light Troupe! He clearly knows what he is doing! Imryll, I will need your help speaking to them."

"How so?"

"Maintain telepathic contact with me, as subtly as you can," Feubryn advised her, "And come up with appropriately vague, doom-like, prophetic-sounding phrases for me to say to them. You have a real knack for it, and Craftworlders love that sort of thing."

"You're learning," Imryll said in approval, "We'll make a diplomat out of you yet, High Avatar."

"Please, do not make me blush so close to the main event! I have to look my best, you know!" Feubryn said grandly.

It took about a minute or so for the Harlequins to get into the best, and most dramatic positions they could find. As the last Player found her place, the Webway Gate distorted, and figures began marching through. Aspect Warriors were at the head and on guard, an unusually large proportion of Howling Banshees among them.

'Odd of them to expect a trap from us, but I suppose one can never be too paranoid,' Feubryn thought to himself.

Once they were satisfied the coast was clear, the main warhost began to come through. Aspect Warriors, Guardians, Vehicles, Bonesingers, Equipment - this was a full warhost, bearing the colours of -

'Craftworld Iybraesil,' Imryll supplied helpfully via telepathy.

'The matriarchal Craftworld, correct?' Feubryn mused idly, 'Followers of Morai-Heg. What brings them here? I thought they primarily concerned themselves with the Crone Worlds.'

'Perhaps there is a connection to whatever strangeness resides here,' Imryll responded, 'We should do our best to find out.'

He sensed the Farseer before he spotted her. Walking in the midst of a heavy guard, the robed seer approached with the sort of regal grace other species simply could not mimic. Feubryn strode forward, arms spread aloft.

"Welcome, my cousins, to our humble abode!"

'Say something about fate bringing us together to face danger,' urged Imryll.

"It would appear that the fickle mistress of Fate has brought us together to face the threat lurking on this world," Feubryn dutifully continued, "My name is Feubryn Valorbane, and I am the High Avatar of the Masque of the Blameless Culprit. My lovely companion is Imryll Fatewalker," he took a moment to once again appreciate how ironic that name was, given her general inability to see the -

'I will make you dream of entire worlds coloured in nothing but grey.'

He promptly cut off that line of thought at the threat. "There are, of course, many more of us, but other introductions can wait. And whom do I have the pleasure of speaking to, Farseer of Craftworld Iybraesil?"

"The pleasure is all mine," the Farseer replied with a warm smile, "I am Farseer Lilliana, of Craftworld Iybraesil, as you correctly deduced. You and your Masque have my thanks for allowing us to seek shelter with you, Feubryn Valorbane."

"Think nothing of it, milady! What is a little room-sharing between friends?" Feubryn responded grandly. Internally, however, he was panicking.

'Imryll!' he thought frantically.

'I know, High Avatar, I see it too,' the normally stoic Shadowseer sounded concerned, 'The Farseer is... smiling?'

'I didn't know they could do that!' the Great Harlequin all but shouted in his mind, 'What should I do!?'

'I do not know! Perhaps... smile back?' Came the hesitant reply.

'I am WEARING A MASK!'

'When dealing with powerful telepaths, it is literally the thought that counts, High Avatar.'

"We gave already identified a large clearing where you may move your equipment and set up your encampment," Feubryn continued, keeping a straight (or rather, a smiling) face and showing nothing of his internal turmoil as he indicated the location in question, "I will allow you to get settled in before we discuss more serious matters! And of course, this meeting of kindred requires a celebration! Light troupe! Twilight troupe! Let us make the preparations! We shall put on a fine show for our friends!"

"That sounds wonderful, High Avatar Feubryn," Lilliana responded, still smiling, "I shall see to it that our own preparations are done post-haste. We would not want to deprive you of the chance to perform!"

'I believe that was an attempt at humour, High Avatar,' Imryll informed him seriously, 'This is even graver than we thought.'

'We must have a strategy meeting on this, as soon as possible,' Feubryn agreed.

'Remember to warn them about our follower, High Avatar.'

"Then I shall leave you to it," Feubryn advised, "I will have the troupes stay out of your way as you set up. I will give you one initial word of warning, though," his demeanour changed. Grand, humorous geniality gave way to grave seriousness. "There is a Solitaire on-world. She is not technically a part of our Masque, but tends to follow us around. I warn you in advance for two reasons. One, because I am quite aware of the... effect," he chose the word delicately, "that they can have on Eldar who are not used to their presence when they do not hide it," 'effect' in this context meaning 'absolutely terrifying them'.

"I see," Lilliana nodded seriously, "Thank you for the warning. I will make my forces aware not to approach her. What was the second reason?"

"Because she is extraordinarily annoying," Feubryn admitted.

"Oh," the Farseer didn't really seem to know how to respond to that, "I will see to our preparations now. Again, my thanks. I look forward to discussing more important matters with you."

The Farseer left to join her troops, who had already started making their way over to the clearing that would soon form their base. Feubryn breathed a sigh of relief.

'Thank you for reminding me to warn them about Fallacy,' he thought gratefully, 'I had almost forgotten to do so.'

'I believed it could have been somewhat awkward if some of their troops approached her without forewarning, High Avatar,' Imryll admitted, 'I still recall the Ulthwé incident. I will never be able to remove from my head the image of an entire council of warlocks running down a hill, waving their arms around and screaming in terror.'

'Indeed,' Feubryn reminisced, 'It was the one who tripped and started rolling down that stuck with me. Now then, let us go prepare a dance. We will have to select one that we can perform without Dranc for now...'

Spoiler:
Feubryn and Imryll are forced out of their comfort zone when they meet a Farseer who doesn't quite follow the usual Farseer Personality Regulations™...


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/03/31 03:43:32


Post by: Palleus


Grim, Cambria.

Green skin glistened with sweat as long ships were lashed together with braided vine ropes, each one a ramshackle masterpiece: A sharp prow for ramming the enemy. A front ramp for fast unloading once they had run aground. Thick boards of black ore oak were placed, spaced, and positioned for maximum protection with minimum weight. To an outside observer, it looked to be nothing more than a pile of sticks, roughly held together with nothing more than rope and hope. But as the greenskin stepped back to admire his work, he knew their true mettle. Each design was a gift from Mork, flashes of inspiration came and he created. Each creation worked just as intended. It was in his blood. He and his creations were one.

It was a pity these creations would be wasted.

The greenskin sighed as he moved onto creating the next long ship, knowing that the fate of this one would be the same as all the others. Rowing towards the main lands and being blasted to bits before reaching land. The only thing ever to return from their voyages were splinters and blood. Still, warboss Neroz Da Ugly was adamant. They would take the land, no matter the cost. So the greenskin worked again and again, perfecting his long ship design, and watching them row to certain doom. To him, today was just another day of constant toil, and eventual disappointment.

But this day changed everything.

He heard it as he was gathering more rope, an almost quiet wail that whispered though the leaves of the jungle. The whisper became a shout, and the shout became a deafening roar as the sky itself seemed to catch aflame. Grots scurried under any available cover, from rocks to discarded tools, and peeked at a massive burning hulk that tore across the sky. The greenskin stood in awe as he watched it slowly rip the sky apart with its trail of billowing smoke.

Sparks broke across the burning hulk, and a huge shard fell from it, twirling in the air as it fell towards the shipyard. Gretchen squeaked in fear and fled as they realized their doom, and the greenskin shook himself out of his awe-filled stupor and ran as fast as possible as the sky fell around him. Tree trunk sized bits fell from the shard and embedded themselves in the ground, leaving scorched craters and shattered trees in their wake. A burst of splinters rained on the greenskin as a nearby shed was shattered by the death rain, but on he ran until the whole earth shook and threw him down, as the shard finally collided with the shipyard. Longboats shattered in an instant, their thick black ore oak boards burst, and their shattered remains scattered through the air.

The deafening roar became a shout, and the shout became a whisper as the burning hulk flew further and further north, and the greenskin picked himself up from the ground. Where there was once a shipyard, now there were shambles. The splintered remains of the last batch of long ships littered around the massive shard. The greenskin could not help but return to his state of awe as he gazed on the shard. It was larger than anything he had created, or seen for that matter, save for the hulk it sheared from, and taller than any of the trees of the forest. Captivated by the shard, the greenskin studied it by cooling sections with water and prying bits apart to look at what was inside. Most of it was solid metal, melted and reformed by the reentry in strange and flowing patterns, but it was in the second hour of inspection that the greenskin found the true prize. A metal hatch groaned and grated as the greenskin pried at it with an oak pole until it finally broke open, revealing a tangled mass of sparking wires.

Wires

In that instant, the greenskin knew. He knew what they were. He knew what they could do. He knew what they needed, and how they would work. With the new materials at his hands, his inborn instincts kicked in, and visions of future inventions flooded his mind. Waves of ork troops clad in iron plates, charging through spears and bullets alike as if it were nothing. Smoke belching machines rattling forward faster than any ork or beast could run. Massive metal claws that could crush any foe. Loud, metal spewing weapons that spat a rain of death.

“Good Mork…” He said quietly to himself, stumbling back as he recovered from his influx of vision. This was a great opportunity that had been given to him, and he needed to act quickly to take full advantage of it.

“You!” he said, pointing his finger at a curious grot “Get tha’ workers! We’z got work ta’ do! And tell da’ boss dat mek Hannibal iz workin’ on somethin’ real good…”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

It had only been a few days after the sky had rained its fiery blessing on Hannibal, and already the shipyard had taken on an entirely different form. Scaffolding has been hastily built all around the shard. Grots scurried to and fro, hauling tiny bits of scrap they managed to peel off, and tossing them into sorting bins. The dozen orks that Neroz had assigned to help were busy carting off piles of scrap metal and dumping them into large furnaces that had been dug into the ground, logs being constantly fed in to keep the metal hot and molten, where it was then poured out into clay ingot molds. Hannibal watched over it all as he tinkered with a large metal claw he wore over his own hand. It could cut through an entire tree with ease. The power in his hands was incredible.

Power that Neroz would surely take for himself.

And why should he have all the power? Hannibal pondered to himself as he checked his reflection in his claw. Neroz rose to power as any ork ever did: brute force. That was exactly his problem. He was all Gork and no Mork. When an attack failed, he simply threw more boys at it, even if craftier council could be found. Hannibal, once a proud nob in the battle host, was now regaled to endless ship building. Only to see his creations return as shrapnel; punishment for voicing his opinion when Neroz was angry.

No longer.

Hannibal closed his claw with a crunch. Soon, the tribe would be free of Neroz’s foolish ways. Hannibal would lead the green host to victory. It would become an iron horde, crushing all who opposed them with might and guile. But for now, Hannibal would bide his time.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/03/31 17:50:36


Post by: Buttery Commissar


[Day before the knight duel]

Liza's team, the Kroot and the Histans landed on Crion in a remote southern area of the planet's ice caps. They aimed to remain neutral from the scrapping and power struggles flowing across the surface, but as the shuttles deployed, Edward watched them leave with a sense of great trepidation.
"This isn't Trisburg," Garth reached across the railing where Edward leaned, watching the sensor monitors, and gripped his partner's hand, "and everyone involved is capable of looking after themselves."
The Lord captain tore his eyes from the screens, "Am I that transparent in my self torment?"
"Near always," the commissar kept his hand in place, "it's one of your endearing qualities. Now, either you trust those Kroot to keep the cogboys safe, or you wasted nearly twenty thousand credits on a pointless misadventure. Which is it?" he smiled, a welcome sight after the stress of deployment.

"You are right. I shouldn't underestimate our experienced recruits." Edward shook his head.
"Plus, the Histan lads will be reporting back to us regularly, even if the others forget to." a silver tooth glinted in the commissar's smile.
The rogue trader laughed, "You sly dog."
"More about your peace of mind than anything else," Garth tapped his temple with a finger, "now, I believe you have an excursion of you own to get ready for. Or are you not planning on sleeping?"
"The duel!" Edward slapped his forehead, "Is that tomorrow?"
"It's in eight hours." taking Edward's elbow, Selka gently steered him away from the screens.
"Going to be an interesting mix of people." the Lord captain paused in the doorway.
"Bed!" Garth pulled off his hat and swatted the lingering Edward.
Edward drew himself up to his full height, "Bed, Lord Captain." he grinned and swept his arm up as he left.
Garth smiled and rolled his eyes before manning the display screens himself.

*

The shuttle crafts skimmed at breakneck speeds through the night sky, before landing smoothly amongst the thick snowbanks.
"You will stay inside the crafts until we have built the shelters." Liza's voice cut through the various rumblings of the engines.
"Already being babysat by the people we're here to protect?" a Kroot grumbled from one of the benches.
The Techpriest with them turned and inclined his head gently, before pulling down his own rebreather, "Night is at least twice as cold here as daylight, and these shuttles are climate controlled," he then lifted his robe slightly, displaying what at first appeared to be a metal boot, until those watching realised it was a bionic limb, "plus, our extremities are unable to feel the cold. We mean no disrespect, but by building at night when people can not traverse the area, we are reducing the risk of being caught unprepared."
"And no disrespect back to you," a Kroot shaper named Reg'ol nodded, "your logic is solid, if a little opaque to the rest of us."
The priest smiled, a wide thin line in a deathly pale face, "Ah! Then I will endeavour to be far more opaque, and encourage my colleagues similarly. For now, rest and stay warm. We will build."

Spoiler:
All forces in the Southern half of Crion may roll to spot my crafts coming in, and from that attempt to work out where the Admech base is.
Remember we are more of a auto mechanic / garage than an invading force, but if you come armed for a fight, fething Skitari, man.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/03/31 21:09:50


Post by: chazz huggins


Lord Governor Tobias Payne sat at the head of the long table in his diplomatic suite. The walls of this hall of statesmanship were cream, they held grandiose windows which framed the rocky shore that was Payne island and one could watch as the sea crashed gently upon these boulders. The low hanging Luna Epsilon hung in the night sky revealing only a sliver of its full self. Across from the row of five windows was the hearth, the fire illuminated the room casting shadows and twisting them. The suiete was on the second level of governor’s estate far from the commotion of the ballroom and its occupants and had only three doors, one that led to one of the governor’s private kitchens where servants prepared a special dinner for the crusading delegates, the hallway access point, and the door that rested behind Payne that led to his private quarters, each door was guarded by two palace guards, adorned in a deep blue carapace that matched the tapestry. The table they sat at was massive built to accommodate both humans and Astartes with comfort, Payne’s father had it commissioned when the Blood Angels visited Crion all those years ago, the table had not seen action since.

Payne looked to all those gathered before his long table. To the governor’s right sat Captain Fairfax, Magos Liza, Captain Taranis, Alpha Faolan, and The Angel. In the left column sat Captain Ceasar, Wolf lord Stormclaw, Queen Moira, and Tempestor Castilla. At the tables opposite head was Inquisitor Randall. The rest of the crusader guests were forced to wait in the ballroom.

Governor Payne cleared his throat with a grotesque noise, “My Lords I am so very much honored that so many noble champions of the Emperor have come to thee defense of Crion. I would like to on behalf of myself and every loyal Crionian like to thank you for your swift intervention.” Payne’s words were prewritten by some dreg with an auto quill, it was quite apparent. The portly governor continued speaking, “My lords I have gathered you here to discuss exactly what it will take to return Crion to normalcy.” Taranis interjected “You will forgive my interjection governor but me and my men are not here to deal with whatever plagues your harvest.” Payne was obviously furious at the shark’s sudden transgression but the governor checked his emotions and replied once again clearing his throat “Then what pray tell has brought you to my world Captain.”

Taranis rose to his feet much to the relief of the large chair in which he sat “Me and my brothers hunt xenos by far more despicable then the filth of green skins, we hunt Eldar and we have great reason to believe that they have arrived here on Crion.” Murmers broke out amongst the crusaders, Captain Edward Fairfax jotted something down on simple pocket journal. Payne spoke “My lord what proof have you of an Eldar incursion?” Taranis spoke “We have tracked their movements here.” Payne snorted “But have you encountered any Eldar on Crion or its moons.” Taranis spoke “Not yet but I know that…” Payne cut the astarte off “So you would derail my delegations for speculation of Eldar. I am Lord Governor of Crion and I would know if Eldar had stepped foot on my world.” Taranis had no reply to the governor as he was technically right, still he would not take the governor’s doubt lightly. Ceasar shook his head, a gut reaction as he knew that the Shark’s lust for Eldar blood could be another’s doom.

Payne returned to his planned speech, “Crion has three cancers that must be removed. The first and most concerning is this heretical incursion that has swept over the moon of Luna Epsilon. We have already lost a hive to the traitors and I fear their heresy will spread. We are still unsure who we are dealing with or what they are capable of.” Ulfric growled “It matters not who they are only where, all heretics bleed the same.” Randall spoke “We must make eradicating these traitors a priority.” The Angel spoke from behind her mask “Agreed the Arbiters of truth will lead the vanguard against the traitors.” Tempestor Castilla spoke “My lords if I may. The Arbiters of Truth are unworthy of such an honor, some of us veterans of the Chardon crusade remember the sins of the fallen order.” Captain Fairfax spoke “Agreed.” The Angel kept her composure “We will not hide, we are guilty, we can never fully atone for the fallen. We do not seek redemption rather we seek a to pay in part an unrepayable penance and if our debt means our death, then so be it.” Castilla spat “Tell that to those who fell to Arachus.” Randall spoke out “We are not here to discuss the innocence or guilt of the Arbiters of Truth nor are we here to speak of battles past.” Castilla spoke “You are correct Lord Inquisitor.”

Governor Payne refocused the conversation “Thank you Inquisitor. The second nuisance is a separatist organization calling themselves The Tillers. They have caused a great deal of damage to our industry. Normally I would not ask off worlders to assist in such an affair but our PDF can not handle so many fronts. If Crion is to be restored, we must eliminate these apostates.” Alpha Faolan spoke “Tell me governor what do you know of these separatist, they seem to be a thorn in your side for some time.” Governor Payne seemed annoyed at the thought of Tillers, “They are led by a man calling himself Horatio Payne. He is claiming to be my bastard and as such the true heir to Crion. He is a liar and heretic, he rallies hordes of field hands to take up arms with fancy speeches of equality and the tyranny of the bourgeois.” Yet another note for Edward’s pocket book. The governor spoke “The majority of these terrorists are isolated to the continent of Krius, but cells are beginning to appear in cities throughout Crion.” Queen Moira interjected “Could a diplomatic solution be reached?” Payne spoke “They will not speak; they are no better than feral anarchist. Which brings me to the final threat.”

It was at this time a servitor brought out a large silver covered tray and laid it before the Governor. Three other servitors brought three similar trays. Liza watched the half organic automatons with curiosity, they were ornate butshe was still not fond of the use of humans. “The orks have been fighting with unusual amount of organization as of late. I fear their unification may herald the beginning of a Wagh. I do not know what’s caused this sudden change but it must be stopped.” Payne looked out to those gathered before him and clapped his hands together “Well then I suppose all that remains is deciding who will handle which threat, but that can wait till after dinner.” Payne arose to his feet and put his left hand atop the silver tray cover and his right hand with his glass in the air, “A toast is in order.” Everyone who sat at the table rose and held up their drinks “Here’s to us defenders of Crion and Servants of the God Emperor.” As the kitchen door swung open with the servitors departure something caught Faolan’s eye, something that shocked him to his core, the Hound shouted “Governor wait.” But it was too late Payne uncovered the tray of food and found not his expected pile of Crionian clams, but a single green skinned Gretchen aiming a crude pistol at him.

Meanwhile in the Ballroom

Commissar Jethro Alenko leaned on the railing that overlooked the ballroom, he gazed at those gathered about the Governor’s manor he could tell that an agent of the Inquisition made many of the attendants uncomfortable. He watched with hatful eyes as the three scion bodyguards of the 85th made idle chatter by a silver statue of the Primarch Roboute Guilliman. Captain Kid approached the Commissar with two glasses of punch, the Mordian nudged the Commissar and handed him a glass. She spoke “Enjoying the party commissar?” Jethro laughed “More than you I wager. Is that for me you shouldn’t have.” Kid looked annoyed she shook her head “I was trying to eavesdrop on some of the more loosed tongued guests.” Jethro took a sip of the sweet red liquid and spoke “And?” Kid replied “At this rate it seems I’m more likely to get chatter out of a servitor.” “A shame, it seems our entrance left some unnerved.” Kid replied “Randall is to fond of theatrics, you think being part of a cloak and dagger outfit like the Inquisition he’d be a bit more subtle.” Alenko shrugged “I was never fond of the shadows nor the beasts that lurk within them.”

Commissar Garth Selka watched the two Inquisitorial henchmen from the punch bowl. He knew that Commissar, but from where. He saw him at the duel that was not so surprising as the Inquisition has spies everywhere. But, Garth felt he knew him before that. He racked his mind but no name came to him. Who was he? Corporal Tekkar one of the Histians that accompanied him and Ed approached him and spoke “I don’t like the Captain being alone.” Selka broke his gaze away from the mysterious Commissar and spoke “Ed’s a big boy he can handle himself.” The Histian laughed “You don’t believe that do ya.” Selka growled “You will show respect to your Lord Captain.” “Sorry sir.” Selka sighed “And no I actually don’t believe that, but he’ll be safe he’s with Astartes after all and Liza.” The Corporal shrugged “Your right, still wish we could be there for… whatever it is their talking about.” “As do I.”

Commander Cearul Adair, Chaplain Iodius, and Battle Leader Conan watched the two Grey Knights from across the ballroom. Conan spat at the marble floor and servitor modified with cleaning implements came hobbling over. The wolf spoke “I hate the entire bloody Inquisition, but the sons of Titan are by far the most detestable.” Commander Cearul spoke “I’ve not heard of these Grey Knights, but if they serve the Inquisition they could be trouble.” Conan growled “The wolves remember the Months of Shame and can assert they are indeed trouble.” Chaplain Iodius spoke “Come now we are all brothers. I am sure the reputation of these Grey Knights are exaggerated. Let us speak to them.” Floki approached the Chaplain and spoke “Oh the Grey Knights have earned the mysterious reputation they leave no witnesses, ever. If you approach them, you may never return.” The veteran Iodius scoffed “I will not be swayed by Fenrisian superstition.” Floki sighed “It’s your funeral brother just don’t haunt us who warned you.”

Justicar Freeman and Brother Captain Athenar watched as the Chaplain approached. Iodius made the sign of the Aquilla and bowed before the Grey Knights, the sons of Titan returned the gesture. Iodius spoke “Hail brothers, it is well to see you. I am Chaplain Iodius of the Dorn’s Wish Chapter.” Captain Athenar spoke plainly “Chaplain.” Justicar Freeman was more inviting “Well met brother I am Justicar Freeman and this is Brother Captain Athenar.” Iodius felt uncomfortable but attempted to continue the dialogue “Tell me I know nothing of your chapter, are you sons of Corax?” Athenar relayed a message psychically to the Justicar and Freeman spoke “I am sorry Chaplain we do not openly discuss our chapter.” Iodius smiled “Oh come now I realize you are part of the Inquisition but surly can share some of your chapter’s history.” Justicar Freeman didn’t need Athenar’s psychic instruction to do his will, “Chaplain we have only been speaking to you out of respect for your rank and dedication to the Emperor. Were you a normal battle brother this conversation would not even be happening. So I ask for your own welfare you walk away now.” Chaplain Iodius was insulted that a marine who was likely not even half his age would speak so lowly to him “Listen, I’ve smitten more enemies of the emperor than you have days existed I would appreciate some….” A sudden nose bleed caught the chaplain off guard coupled with a crippling headache. Justicar Freeman spoke his voice made him nauseous “Please brother go enjoy the party.” Iodius began to back away and felt better with each step he took.

Chaplain Iodius quickly stopped his bleeding and walked towards the group of Marines that awaited him. Commander Cearul spoke “How did it go did you learn anything?” Chaplain Iodius wishing to not look foolish spoke with a smile “Aye I did I got their names.” “What are they.” Asked on of the veterans that had accompanied him and Ceasar. “The one on the right is…” Iodius mind went to a blank, he remembered being told their names but he couldn’t remember what they were. In fact, the more he thought back on the encounter the less he remembered. An Astartes has a photogenic memory this was odd. The veteran spoke “You all right brother?” The Chaplain spoke “On second thought we would be wise to avoid these lot.”

Commissar Jethro Alenko watched from the balcony as the lines of nobles swayed and shuffled from one end of the dance floor to the other. The song ended and the band quickly turned the pages of their sheet music and began again, it was The Rains of Faust. Jethro smiled as he looked over to Captain Kid “This takes me back.” Kid spoke almost sounding curious “Does it? Any memory in particular.” Jethro smiled at his treasured memory and spoke “A wedding about eight years back. That was the last time I danced come to think of it.” The Mordian laughed “I didn’t realize that dancing was in a Commissar’s skill set.” Jethro grinned “But of course the Schola Progenium trains the finest dancers. On Mondus we’d disassemble las guns and study the Lectitio Divinitatus but on Tuetus we’d put on our leotards and pour our soles out on the stage. Had I not been selected for the Oficio Prefectus I’d be Lord master of the Dance.” Kid laughed “I think it for the best.” Alenko let the laughter settle and he left his gaze upon Captain Kid for too long. The Commissar cleared his throat and spoke “So tell me Captain when was the last time you danced.” “Mordians don’t dance.” Jethro laughed but the Captain was clearly serious. “Never?” Jethro asked and “Never” was the captain’s reply. Wit escaped the commissar and an uncomfortable silence fell upon him. Kid looked at Jethro with a raised eye brow “Are you alright Commissar.” “Captain would you care to…” a blood curdling screech cut the commissar short.

A baroness spotted the first of the Green skins as the orkish grot sprung forth from the punchbowl, chucking forward a crude ork grenade known to them as a stikk bomb. As the fragmentation device exploded killing three unlucky nobles and an innocent drink servitor, ork Kommandos repelling from ropes bursted through the massive windows, their heavy boots crunching the broken glass as they charged into the party goers. A nob with a power klaw shouted “No survivors Big Boss’s orders!” The orks did not need such a reminder as they unleashed their choppas indiscriminately upon armed palce guard, crusade, and unarmed noble alike. A Kommando plunged his choppa into the chest of one of the Valorn men at arms his carapace doing nothing to stop the barbed blade, the man at arms was quickly avenged a bolt shot from the Wolf Guard battle leader Conan. Veteran Brother Danner of the Dorn’s wish chapter had locked his combat blade with the sword of a snarling kommando. Brother Danner would have won the duel had it not been for the intervention of another kommando who placed an axe in the unarmored rear of the back of his knee. The ork seeing his opportunity struck at the stunned Danner and removed the space marine’s helmeted head from his power armored shoulders. In a rage Iodius rushed forward at the two green skins, his mighty Crozius Arcanum crushing the orks thick bones as their bodies were tossed to the opposite end of the room. Commissr Garth Selka watched as one of the Histians that had accompanied him and Ed fell after a shot from an ork Slugga put a fist size hole in his chest. Garth raised his pistol to avenge the fallen bodyguard but another ork charged him from his left, the ork tackled him to the floor and raised a twisted dagger to finish him with. Had it not been for the swift blade of Queensward Valorn the commissar would have died. Thankfully Amanda’s blade was true and struck the ork cleaving it in two allowing Garth to roll to his feet. Captain Athenar and Justicarl Freeman unleashed a bolts of chain lightning on the rampaging orks, however the orks wooden armor made his spell not very effective. The Orks charged against the grey knights with brutal fury. An ork equipped with a device known as a rokkit stikk swung at Justicar Freeman hitting him with explosive force. Fragments of the marine’s armor were cast asunder as the son of titan fell to the ground. He was alive but barely. In the eye of the storm of war was the nob commander.

The Nob Kommando was a behemoth among orks. In its right hand was its mighty power klaw, in its left a crude jagged morning star. Three Scions of the 85th and three of Randal’s Storm Troopers surrounded the beast. They aimed their menagerie of weaponry at the ork but the nob bellowed a mighty WAAAGH! and charged the carapace clad troopers. With a swing of the klaw two scions were hit with crushing weight of the power klaw while one of the Inquisitorial storm troopers was lifted into the air. With the nobs morning star, the remaining two storm trooper and scion was struck with lethal force. The Inquisitorial trooper locked in the nob’s clutches was severed in two his torso and legs falling to the floor. Floki looked at the nob holding his lightning claws at his side and growled “Prepare to die ork.” The Nob clanked his two weapons together and unleashed a war cry and charged the space wolf. Floki had expected such a primitive move, but hadn’t expected the speed and strength the ork would strike with. The ork and wolf exchanged both each growing in rage and strength as their blows were dodged, blocked, and deflected. The tide changed when Floki struck at the green skin, the ork dodged the blow and quickly grabbed the wolf by the shoulder and fist. The nob brought the trickster down to the ground and placed his boot to the marine’s power pack. The ork proceeded to push the marine’s elbow inward with great force. The power armored joints resisted as did the son of Russ but the brutish strength of the nob could not be resisted. The marine’s elbow shattered, Floki gritted his teeth as his bone fractured and tore at his black carapace. The ork released his grasp and laughed as he raised his massive morning star to end the marine and brought it down with primal aggression.

Alpha Faolan watched the servitors exit the governor’s diplomatic suite into the kitchen, but as the door swung open a trio of brutish figures caught the hound’s eye orks no way of mistaking them. Faolan shouted “Governor wait.” But no waiting was done as Payne unveiled the grot assassin waiting to blast the portly lord governor into oblivion. The grot needed only move its finger in the slightest and the governor would die. However, the governor was blessed when Ta’lok’s knife came zooming from the rafters impaling the grot. Angel looked to where the knife came from and saw only a fleeing cloaked figure.

Though the grot assassin was dead the danger was far from passed as three ork kommandos came rushing from governor’s kitchen, another group of five stormed through the windows, while another squad of five came from the door that led to the governor’s quarters. Thirteen orks in total. The kommandos eliminated the palace guards with uncanny efficiency leaving only the governor and guest crusaders. Each crusader drew what weapons they had and made ready for battle.

Castilla did not have time to draw her pistol before the first ork was upon her. The ork raised its hand axe over its head and brought it down upon scion. The Tempestor thought on her feet and grabbed a large silver platter and used it as an improvised shield. Though the silverware likely saved her life the vibration of the ork’s blow hard enough strength to cause a minor fracture in her wrist. The Angel leapt from her position and descended upon the ork that threatened Castilla her mechanical legs piercing the beast’s hide as she landed upon it. With her hand flamer she incinerated another of the elite komando that charged for her. Edward fired his las pistol at the approaching greenskin. The red energy bolts charred the orks skin and clearly angered the beast but had no other effect upon it. Eventually the ork was upon Fairfax and swung for him with a might blow. Ed had dodged the blade but not completely as the crude choppa had caused him a flesh wound. Ed was not so fortunate when the ork delivered him a forward kick which stumbled the rogue trade to his back. The commando was about to finish the job when he was struck by a pair of power daggers, striking like the fangs of a demon. Magos Liza plunged her twin blades deep into the kommando’s leathery hide. The knives eviscerated the ork likely saving the rogue traders life. Randal drew his plasma pistol and power sword as three orks descended upon him. The first ork was turned to blue goo when the super heated plasma made contact with it. The inquisitor’s second start was not so lucky as the pistol’s overheat indicator began to beep. Knowing he had not a second to spare Randall threw the pistol out the broken window and watched the pistol explode on itself. “Damn plasma” thought the inquisitor. Randal would rely on his blade to handle the remaining two orks. Wolf Lord Stormclaw intercepted an ork that was clearly headed for the Payne, the champion of Fenris had only had combat knife to fight the beast with. The astartes blade proved sufficient as the Wolf Lord rapidly dodged a swing from the ork’s choppa and plunged his blade into the throat of the invading xeno. Captain Caesar placed a bolt round in the skull of marauding commando. The captain felt a harsh sting in his wrist as a sluga round hit his mailed fist. Though the primitive ork projectile could not penetrate his power armor it did force him to drop his bolt gun, without a blade to fight the xenos the captain was forced to rely on his fist. Queen Moira’s power saber gleamed in blue and red as it sliced through the leather jerkin that the commandos wore, the primitive armor not standing to the energy of the power sword. Taranis smashed an ork’s skull in the palm of his power fist. Captain Faolan had been the most prepared for the ork intruders, he drew his bolt pistol and placed a round in each of the three orks who stormed in from the kitchen. Faolan droped his pistol and drew his massive blade Fang Bearer quickly turned around to face the xenos who entered from the window. The two handed relic blade cleaved through an ork with the slightest of effort. Soon enough the Kommandos lay dead.

A deep purple shield caught the nob’s titanic blow. Commander Cearul grunted as he forced the ork back. The nob snarled “SPACE MARINE! YOU FINK YOUR ARD ENOUGH TO STOP DA MIGHTY KORPORAL BROGG!” Cearul brandished his blade and laughed “I’ve slain orks twice your size.” The Brogg beast snarled “ZOG YOU ONLY DA BIG BOSS IZ BIGGA DEN ME EVERYONE ELSE IS JUST A PRETENDA.” Cearul laughed “Come throw yourself upon my blade beast.” Brogg charged at the marine leading with his morning star. Brogg’s blows were mighty but Cearul’s defense was unyielding, his storm shield absorbing the ork’s blows. Brogg grew furious and Cearul saw his chance. The ork rushed the Hound commander Cearul swung with his power sword and severed the ork’s left arm. Brogg ranted in pain “ME ARM YOU CUT OFF ME ZOGGIN ARM!” Cearul did not let up on the wounded ork as he unleashed a mighty shield bash upon Brogg and the ork stumbled backward and fell out the window from which he entered. The ork fell near forty feet to the rocky shore below.

Inquisitor Garett Randall removed his sword from the corpse of the last Kommando that ambushed the crusaders. Tempestor Castilla spoke her voice betrayed her anger “I thought the orks were contained to Cambria!” Payne looked sincerely shocked “They are!” Captain Taranis spoke as he clamped his helmet to his head hiss voice transforming from organic to filtered, “Clearly they are not.” Magos Liza spoke “How did these beasts get here?” her answer came in the form of an artillery.

Queensward Valorn beheaded the last Kommando and the party went to calm and silence. That calm was broken when a 500 millimeter shell bursted throught the window and killed a dozen palace guards and guests. What calmed had been achieved was broken by the screams and fleeing of nobles.

Alpha Faolan looked out the window and saw the ork flag ship upon the water. The ork carrier unleashed several flying contraptions called Dakka Jets and War Koptas. Faolan heard the answered the com bead he had in his ear it was his second Cearul. The marine spoke “Brother we are under attack.” The Alpha replied as he watched the ship fire another shell “I know brother ready Canagan, we have a ship to sink.”

Inquisitor Randall looked over to Faolan and spoke with haste “Is Canagan a land speeder?” Faolan nodded “Aye she’s the fastest the Hounds have.” “It is equipped with a teleport homer yes.” “It is.” The Inquisitor spoke “When you get to the ship activate it My captain will open a portal and you will have reinforcements. The rest of us will stay here and defend the manor.” The Hound nodded, he did not trust the inquisitor but reinforcements could not be refused.

The ork invasion was in full effect when Faolan reached his land speeder. Beach assault crafts unloaded hordes of ork boys upon the shore of Payne manor, the skies flooded with storm boyz, and groups of elite kommandos off loaded from War koptas. The palace guards mounted their defense but the orks were many and they few. Faolan mounted the gunner seat in Canagan and readied the multi melta. Cearul activated the machine and the hovering vessel sped forward.

As the scout craft entered open water two ork dakka jets lowered their altitude to less than a foot above the raging night sea. They trailed the skimmer and opened fire at it twin linked dakka guns splashing the water below them. Cearul pulled up and then back and soon enough the two hounds were above the speeding jets. Faolan did not wasted the opportunity and fired the melta at the plane directly below him. Whatever the molten round hit triggered an explosion and the jet fragmented as it hit the water. Now the pair of Emperor’s Hounds were behind the remaining Jet and Faolan fired again. The entire right wing came apart and the plane was plunged into the sea. The marines went uncontested the rest of their voyage to battle ship.

They reached the ship’s deck and Faolan switched the teleport homer on as mobs of orks that made the runway crew charged at the two. Cearul drew his shield and defended his commander as Faolan gave a mighty cleave with his claymore sending ork chunks all about the deck. A few more moments and dead orks later the portal appeared and a group of loyal Imperials were present. Taranis and Athenar were the largest presence as both wore terminator armor. Taranis threw orks over board with his power fist and peppered orks with bolts from his stormbolter. Athenar opened a swerling vortex of doom that swallowed dozens of green skins and forced a grot to cling to a railing, the grey knight plunged his nemesis halbrid into the maw of a rampaging squig. Captain Caesar and three of his men opened with bolter fire slaying orks in handfuls. The party began to disperse throughout the ships as not to give the orks an easy target. Then a feral war call rang above the crusaders.

A massive ork clearly the leader of these sailors leapt from position to be among the crusaders. The ork was bionically modified what the orks would label a Cybork. The ork had the trappings of a big mek adorned with various tools and bits. The mek shouted “Who dares come aboard Da big Mek StoneGob’s kruza.” One of the marines from Dorn’s wishe charged the mek but the ork tossed a device at him. The device stuck to the veteran marine and began drilling into his armor and then into the marine’s flesh. The Astarte clawed at the contraption to no avail, the drill seemed to grow larger and larger as it buzzed through the marine’s chest cavity. Caesar felt his blood boil and the marine reved his chain sword and rushed for the ork. The mek deliever a boot kick at the enraged captain and saw he was out numbered and likely out matched. The ork spat “Ah Zog you, take da ship da big boss will kill you lot later.” The mek ran off and grabbed a rokkit pack of the corpse of a dead Nob Stormboy. The mek took off into the night sky. The survivor that weren’t occupied fighting orks began firing at the fleeing big mek to no avail.

Soon enough the ork invaders were dead or fleeing off the island. The night had been one, though it should not have been a night that needed winning.

Commander Shadowbrand watched from afar as a human put the down the last ork. The Tau smiled, the humans had more immediate concerns then their Cadre, this was an advantage Skyhunter would not waste. The Tau were still undetected by the Imperials and they preferred to keep it that way Shadowbrand ordered the men back to their stealth transport. They had seen all there was to be seen here.

Inquisitor Garrett Randall watched as a blood red sun rose above the ocean. He took in the salt air; it would have been nice had it not been for sea of blood that flowed upon the island. Captain Kid approached Randall and spoke with grim fortitude “We lost three troopers, Juticar Freeman is wounded but he should survive.” The sea was calm again and it crashed upon the beach Garett made no comment. Kid spoke again “Its going to get worse isn’t it.”
“Much worse.” Was Randall’s only reply.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/04/01 00:19:26


Post by: War Kitten


Lilliana glowed with pride as she watched the new base camp for Iybraesil’s Warriors come together. It had been a few days since the Eldar had rapidly retreated from their initial starting point in response to the oncoming mon’keigh attack force, and she was very pleased with the progress that had been made on their new camp thus far. Already the camp was surrounded by layer upon layer of wards that would confound the minds of the hated enemy, making them think that there was nothing there. Thus was the Eldar way of war, as much misdirection and trickery as direct violence. Lilliana was determined that this new camp would not be found, and so she and Warlock Raela had personally seen to some of the most powerful of the wards that now surrounded their camp. In addition to the wards, a network of eyes had been set up throughout the surrounding forest. Several small Webway gates had been scattered throughout the forest surrounding the Eldar base camp. Any foe seeking to engage the Eldar would be forced to suffer constant harassment by Rangers and other Eldar forces, who would be able to strike at them before fading back into the Webway, to strike again from another, unexpected, angle. Such tactics had worked many times for Iybraesil in the past, and she knew that this time would be no different, if the foe were brave enough to seek out the Eldar.


She turned her gaze from the wards that surrounded the camp to the camp proper. She could see already see the quarters for the Aspect Warriors and Guardians taking shape in the camp as she Bone Singers drew them from the warp using their instruments. As they played the Wraithbone seemed to shift and move as it’s form was altered into the one that the Bone Singers’ instruments demanded. The site of it had always disturbed Lilliana on some level. She had great respect for the Bone Singers themselves, but something about them disturbed her on a primal level. She was jolted out of her thoughts when she heard some quiet footsteps behind her. It was Warlock Raela. Lilliana knew that if Raela had wanted she could have made it so that even Lilliana’s keen hearing would have been unable to detect them, and for that she was thankful. She was amazed every day at how Raela had transitioned seamlessly from the life of an Imperial Inquisitor, to that of the Eldar, and it had been little surprise to Lilliana when Raela had nearly instantly set out on the Path of the Seer. Her psychic powers were impressive, not nearly as strong as Lilliana’s but impressive nevertheless. She was skilled with the Runes of Battle, and she had rapidly reached the rank of Warlock, where she seemed to be content to stay for now. As Raela stopped a few feet away from Lilliana, Lilliana quietly turned to face her and asked “How go the preparations Raela? How soon will we be ready for war once more? My blood sings for vengeance against the slayers of our warriors, and I long to make them pay for their deeds.” Raela cocked her head to the side, a human gesture that never failed to confuse any Eldar who saw it, and replied “The Bone Singers estimate that they will be finished in two days time, so I would give it three days before we are war-ready once more. Never fear Farseer, the Carchoradons will pay for their temerity, it is only a matter of time.” Lilliana nodded and then turned back to watch the camp come together, and she clasped the small charm that hung from her neck. It was a gift from her daughter, something that she had shaped from wraithbone and given to Lilliana before she had left for war. It was more than that to Lilliana though, it was a reminder of what she was fighting for. She quietly uttered a prayer to Isha before slowly beginning the long walk to her quarters. There was still much to be done.

Spoiler:

Still in Indo-Cambria, setting up my base. Also remembered to bring Raela back, so TS can get off my back about her



Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/04/01 01:33:25


Post by: TheEyeOfNight



++HIVE COGGER//BATTLE OF THE MAW++
The battle had raged for an hour before the first of the rebel lines broke, and the orks spilled like a horde of insects into the streets of Hive Cogger. From there, it descended from a stopgap battle into the absolute crushing madness of urban combat. Orks and rebels alike were leaping from rooftops onto each other, wrestling through tunnels and alleyways. This wasn't war, it was a brawl, and it was drenching them all in blood.

Mordecai stood in the street, snapping off shots with his meager autopistol at the dense shapes clashing within the smoke and flames around him. The battle was chaos, nothing but sheer madness incarnate, and no amount of prayer or rallying cries could have prepared him for it. One of the wolf-pigs, absent of its rider, came bearing down on him through the dust. Mordecai threw the shield before him, and the beast slammed into it, driving him hard into the broken road. The rebel could feel ribs break under the impact, and he braced himself for the end.

The blast of a nearby shotgun pierced the air, and the weight on the shield was gone. Lazarus stepped over him, unloading the second barrel into the wolf-pig creature as it struggled to stand. Tossing the smoking shotgun aside, he extended a hand towards Mordecai as the rebel struggled to catch his breath.

“Stand!”

“Father!” Mordecai protested, spitting red saliva through his white mask. “...I'm...I bleed....”

Lazarus wrenched him around, and Mordecai beheld the demagogue's true and terrifying silhouette against the cloudy sky. The His grip was firm, unyielding, but supported Mordecai and helped him to stand. It was the grip of a parent, raising a child from an unfortunate fall. Lazarus's eye gleamed, a bright contrast to the smoke and dust which choked the air, and he spoke commands meant not just for Mordecai, but for everyone in the city.

“You don't have time to bleed. You have time to stand!”

His sword flashed, cutting down a squealing greenskin as it leaped, and he shoved Mordecai into a standing position. The beaten, war-weary coat he wore was torn with fresh blood and fresh rips as he strode towards the nearest struggle, shouting as he did.

“Isolate the big ones! Keep them separated before we drown!”

* * * *

Jerimoth sat at the back of a drainage tunnel, his fingers clutching the battered stock of an ancient autogun. His left arm still shook, and his face was still covered in a dirty bandage from where he had tried to peel away its skin. He was not fit to fight, but all were fit to serve somehow under the Legion's banner.

A lumbering nob cast its shadow over the mouth of the tunnel, and Jerimoth knew he had his chance. His finger convulsed on the trigger, firing a spray of nonsensical bullets to draw the ork's attention. With a blood-hungry grunt, its bulk filled the entrance to the tunnel, charging down towards the helpless human, waving its axe and shouting unintelligibly. A red light appeared in Jerimoth's hand, and he laid back into his throne of piled shrapnel. Had the ork understood explosives better, it might have realized that the drainage tunnel was now an enormous shotgun barrel, leveled at both it and the mob on the streets coming to investigate.

Beneath his bandages, Jerimoth forced a painful smile, and hoped that someone would tell his name to the Flayed Lord when the battle was done. The ork reached out for him, and he pressed the detonator.

* * * *

Jael sprinted past the burning wreck of an artillery cannon, struggling to reload her autogun on the move. The towering ork chasing her roared again, lobbing an axe at her head and missing by inches. She closed her eyes, struggling to remember the prayers and chants that Lazarus had taught her. They fled her now, with her courage, and left a vacant hole of terror in their wake. If she was truly a servant of the dark gods, her life was in their hands.

Behind them, the cannon's ammo cache cooked off, and the artillery was thrown into the air on a hideous fireball. Shrapnel exploded out, punching clean through the ork's back and out its chest in a grisly display. Flesh and blood showered the air as the greenskin stumbled, still roaring bloody spittle as it faltered in its charge.

Jael's hands found a broken piece of stonework, easily the size of a Basilisk shell, and she shouted as she swung it around, knocking the ork to the ground. With strength she didn't know she had, Jael raised the block nearly to eye-level, and slammed it down on the beast's head.

She kept slamming the stone down until there was nothing but pulp under it, and then she slammed it down once more for good measure.

* * * *

Lazarus spun away from one ork, disarming it with a flick of his sword and leaving it for the rebels to finish off. He was bleeding, but he didn't dare look down to see how badly. The gods had not yet permitted him to die, that was all he was certain of. But the tide of greenskins was unending, even as he heard the shouts and cheers at each nob's death. They weren't who he was after.

“'UMIE!”

The shout shook the pavement under his feet, and Lazarus spun around, bringing the sword up to a guard stance. An immense juggernaut of an ork stormed through the wreckage, tossing aside ork and rebel alike as it moved. Behind it was a meter-long log, which may have once been a tree trunk, studded with spiked metal and bits of bone along its entire length. Blood and pulped flesh decorated it in gory testament to the strength of its bearer.

“DIS ORK CITY!” The ork swung the club overhead, smashing aside one of the flamethrowers with ease. “DIS ALWAYS ORK CITY!” Its face, if it could be called such, twisted in rage, and Lazarus wagered that this was SkullSnake, the warboss itself.

Lazarus tasted blood, and wondered vaguely how long he had been bleeding from his mouth. There was little time to consider as the ork bore down on him, screaming and swinging its club in every direction. Lazarus spun away from the charge, a blur of motion as the club shattered the stonework he had stood upon. The ork may have been a force of nature, but Lazarus was a messenger of Chaos, and he had little use for whatever direct challenge the ork had in mind.

Hanging from his belt was a single anti-tank shaped charge, a prize originally intended for aid in opening the Maw. Lazarus had taken it for himself, hunting through the packs of orks in search of the warboss, and now the possibility of victory lay open before him. The strange cone-shaped charge lofted lazily through the air, as if contemplating its final moment of existence.

It detonated with a crack that shook the dust from the air, and a piercing lance of molten metal struck out like lightning, and blew a cannonball-sized hole through SkullSnake's midsection. The club, suddenly absent of much of the muscle which supported it, clattered to the ground, and the abrupt loss of blood and mass would have killed a lesser being outright. SkullSnake staggered, falling to one knee as it struggled to keep itself upright. The shock was still worming through its body, and a hushed quiet fell around them as a hundred eyes turned to see the warboss's charge cut short.

Lazarus limped forward, his jaw set in a firm grimace, his ears ringing loud from the explosive shot. His sword, beaten and bloody, swung up to rest against SkullSnake's throat.

“In the name of the Flayed-”

The ork twisted around and bit the blade, locking the edge between its grimy teeth. Lazarus snapped his arm around, twisting the tip of the blade to point back down into the ork's throat, and viciously kicked the hilt as hard as he could manage.

SkullSnake glared at him, gurgling noise as blood and frothy saliva pooled around around the beaten sword. It seemed like an eternity before the greenskin's eyes finally clouded, and the massive beast fell over in an unceremonious heap. Lazarus stumbled back, exhaustion finally permitted to take over, and put his hand against a nearby heap of rubble. A terrifying wail rose up through the Maw, and the remaining orks scrambled towards the gap in the wall, trampling each other in their haste to regroup somewhere away from their dead boss's body.

Mordecai was there, helping him up, and Lazarus once again became aware that he was bleeding from a great many wounds he should not have ignored. The blue light within his artificial eye flickered as a frustrated sneer twisted his lip.

“Now, Mordecai....now we can bleed.”

He slumped down, and the sword slipped from his fingers.


Spoiler:
Part 2, finally up


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/04/01 16:58:27


Post by: The_Grey_Knight


Nysshea laughed. Others of her kind would be stealthy, would creep along without a sound. Not her. Or the rest of the Harlequins with her. No, they wanted the humans to know that they were going to die, wanted them to run towards them, defient to the last. And then they wanted to tear them apart in a bloody masterpiece.

The Death jester and the other dozen Harlequins crept through the underbelly of the city, water dripping through the unused tunnel. Pipes ran the length of the walls, more rust than metal now. The tunnel, behind the pipes, was rough stone, carved from the local rock and was seldom used for anything but gang fights. It was one of number that ran from the farms outside the city, to its inside, now forgotten and a perfect entrance for anyone who knew where
to look. This particular one lead to the main gate within Torcan, where the majority of guards were posted. The main gate was at the end of a long entrance passage way, and was the first and final defense before you arrived in Hive Torcan, which was in no better state than the tunnel the Harlequins crept down now. The hive itself was warren of chambers and buildings, all decaying and thrown together in the most haphazard way possible. Ancient and beautiful architecture resided beside crude slums, plamsa being vented through. It was simply a place where humans could rot together, dressed as a place to keep them safe. And it would not keep them safe toady.

The plan was surprisingly simple. Nysshea and twelve other members of the Reaper's Mirth would enter the tunnel after infiltrating a crumbling farm house. From there they would follow it all the way to the Hive, through its many branches and turns, looking out for the two local gangs, the Kretchmas and the Bleeders. They were the only thing that could go wrong with the plan, as there was enough of them that they would have a chance of halting them, if either
gang were to come across the clowns. However, the two gangs had been at war for so long that they would be too busy killing each other than to pay any heed to the Harlequins. Eventually Nysshea and the Players would reach the end, and come out right behind the guards. They had also timed it so that the guard would be at its largest, with only a few more in the actual city. From here, the Harlequins would use the element of surprise and the fact that they weren't in the mens' firing lanes to kill them all ruthlessly. They would then proceed to slaughter the entire hive.

Suddenly, as Nysshea rounded a corner, the air filled with shots. Las gun fire and crude metal bullets tore through the air, and three Harlequins died before they had a chance to return fire. Gripping her Shrieker cannon, Nysshea looked at her foe. It was impossible. The Bleeders and the Kretchmas were attacking them, fighting side by side as they rushed the clowns, knives out and guns firing. Nysshea hefted her weapon and fired into the gang members. The unlucky victim's blood vessels rapidly expanded as the toxin spread through their body, and they exploded in beautiful shower of gore, bone fragments embedding themselves into the humans around him. She used the blade on the end of her cannon to rip open several enemies in front of her, while the rest of the troupe whirled around, blades flashing and shuriken pistols firing. Humans died in troves, flesh torn open as screams filled the tunnel.

But there were too many.

Nysshea slashed again at a leader that rushed her, cutting him from hip to shoulder and revelling at the blood that gushed out and the organs spilling to the ground. Four more took his place, and she was forced to take six steps back, firing again into them and watching the organic explosion. The rest of the Harlequins faired no better, swamped by shear numbers. They leapt around, parrying and cutting, and being dragged to the ground by bloody hands, to be
hacked apart by blunt blades. She screamed in rage as another Player fell, and rammed her blade through the chest of the human in front of her, tearing apart the one behind with her bare hands. A boot came out of no where and slammed into her stomach, and a bullet seared through her shoulder. Scrambling back and grabbing her Shrieker cannon, she and the remaining seven Harlequins retreated back the way they had come, hundreds of the allied gang members pursuing them, blades out. Suddenly, from behind the clowns, rushed out yet more foes, surrounding them. Fighting with pure rage, the Harlequins tore into the new fighters, trambling their lacertated bodies into the floor, laughing as the bones cracked under foot. Nysshea cut open her foolish opponent, who had rushed at her, enjoying the way he screamed and squirmed at the end of her blade. His screams just seemed to enrage his friends, who heeded not how the foolish human had just died, and rushed at her. She fired at the first, and the explosion killed the other three. She ran forward, impaling another, and continued to cut down any that got in her way. In a whirlwind of blood and gore, the harlequins pushed on, sustaining more and more injuries.

Eventually, Nysshea and six of the twelve Harlequins reached the other side, and howling in anger, sprinted away from the mob. After a bit, they came across a lone gang member, holding his knife. He was there to try and cut them off. Stupid human. Remembering how much gangs loved their weapons, Nysshea grabbed his blade with unnatural speed and, pinning him to the wall with her good arm, slit open his stomach with his own knife. Then, stabbbing the knife into his arm, she shoved her hand into his stomach, and pulled out his organs. He screamed, and shaked with pain, howling for mercy, but Nysshea kept going. First his intestines fell to the floor, and then she ripped out his still warm liver. Finally, cracking his ribs, she pulled out his heart loving the way the blood ran between her fingers, before ramming the knife through his throat, pinning his corpse to the wall. Let it serve as a message. She would return and paint the city red with blood. She would fill the hallways with screams, and paint pictures with their carrion. She would kill a hundred for every Harlequin that had died today, and then more for her own enjoyment. It would not be quick, no, she would kill in the most painful ways she knew, and being part of the Masque of the Reaper's Mirth and being a Death Jester she knew very painful ways to kill. But she would not stop there. This world would be painted red, would forever echo screams of the genocide she would commit. Every human, astartes, ork and, hell, even eldar would die, spectacularly and horrifically. All for the sake of Cegorach.

And so, once again, Nysshea laughed.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/04/01 17:27:16


Post by: Robin5t


Crion - Jorgon

Blameless Culprit & Ibraesil Encampment


Feubryn could immediately tell that something had gone wrong.

For one, the mood of the returning Dark Troupe was a horrible mixture of sombre rage and frustration – not the vicious satisfaction he would have expected from a victory.

Probably a bigger indicator, however, was that five of the players who had accompanied Dranc on this errand were missing from the return group. He could not see the Fading Star, the Shade Weaver, Elria the Sorceress of Strings, Galead of the Clear Night or the Marquis of Mystery.

He approached Dranc and the Shadow Duke immediately. “Tell me everything,” he said simply.

The tale Dranc told was as sobering as it was surprising. Led neatly into an ambush, by Feral Orks nontheless – he admonished himself for having that thought. His underestimating Orks of any description was what caused this disaster in the first place.

Fallacy's intervention was both surprising and not so – the Solitaire was usually so unpredictable that trying to expect anything from her was an exercise in futility.

Finally, he advised the Shadow Duke to recuperate with the survivors of his troupe, before advising Dranc there would be a War Council with their new Craftworld friends later that night.

It was a rather despondent Feubryn who walked into his pavilion, only to find it occupied.

“Fallacy,” he blinked, taking in the Solitaire, who was sitting, casually on a seat with her feet up on his table.

“Feubryn,” she greeted him lazily, “Hi there! I was just thinking about you, and what a surprise, here you are! We really need to have a bit of a chat, you and I.”

“You saved the Dark Troupe from the Ork ambush,” Feubryn stated.

“No,” Fallacy corrected him, “I saved them from your foolishness. Apparently sixty million years of cumulative knowledge borne from constant warfare between our race and the Orks had taught you nothing, but perhaps now you have learned not to underestimate them so badly.”

Feubryn grimaced. “Listen… what I mean to say is-”

“No,” she said flatly, “You listen.”

He shut his mouth, the thank you left unsaid.

“You believe I followed you here,” she began, “I didn't. I came here independently. I was here significantly before your advance party even stepped foot on this planet. You followed me. I'm assuming you'd like to know why I am here?”

“You had the same vision as Imryll,” Feubryn guessed quietly.

“Not quite, but close enough,” Fallacy stood, and began to pace, “I was made aware of the secret lurking in this system, and I set out to stop the potential calamity that may ensue. It was part of the plan, you see. Part of the Great Jest. So I planned, I plotted, I walked the many varied paths of fate, I used every ounce of the knowledge our God has provided to me, and it became clear, that the only way for me to achieve this on my own was… unfavourable. Immoral. Even the lives of such simple creatures as Mon-Keigh should not be expended so carelessly, never mind the lives of the other Eldar here... but I resigned myself to do what was necessary.”

She stopped, and regarded him calmly, “But then! Then you arrived. Feubryn Valorbane, hero of the Veleáth war, with your faithful Masque following alongside! And fate? It changed. Suddenly, another option presented itself! Despite all my power, all my ability, you could potentially do what I could not, and achieve victory without resorting to such… measures,” she emphasised the word, “I was, naturally, delighted. So I contacted you. I dropped you a hint or two. I intended to use my knowledge to guide you, indirectly to the best possible victory. That needs to change.”

Feubryn's eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“Because now, we are working on a time limit,” Fallacy said simply, “The Reaper's Mirth and Silent Shroud have arrived in the system.”

Feubryn sat up in interest. “When was this?”

“Yesterday,” the Solitaire replied, “Do not celebrate yet, Feubryn. Given what I know of them, they are likely to be very much in favour of the… original, plan,” she said delicately, “I have no doubt that they intend to bathe this system red with blood, and, well, you know the Reaper's Mirth,” she shrugged, “They'll probably enjoy it. Mad as a bunch of headgear-loving primitives, that lot.”

“So why haven't you went over there and convinced them to do things your way?” Feubryn asked reasonably.

“Were it so easy!” Fallacy laughed, “That would have been perfectly possible, if not for two, rather significant things… first of all, I have no idea where they are, and, while small compared to the greater galaxy, Solar Systems are still rather large to explore on your own. Secondly, I believe there is also a significant chance that they may have a Solitaire of their own with them. With another one like me around, forcing the issue would become… rather difficult, to say the least.”

Feubryn grimaced. It was bad enough having a Solitaire on your side, but having one potentially against you?

“So who is correct? Who is actually following the Laughing God's will?” Feubryn asked. “Is it they, or us? Someone must be incorrect.”

Fallacy tilted her head. “Perhaps it is them, and Cegorach wishes for this planet to die. Perhaps it is us, and Cegorach has plans that involve this planet living. Perhaps it is both! Remember that our god is, at his core, a trickster, after all! Or perhaps he genuinely does not know, and is hedging his bets,” she mused, “Remember also that nothing is infallible, even a god. But there is a bigger question, Feubryn Valorbane, the question I would have you answer right now. The lives of every living thing on this planet, up to and including ourselves, and your new friends from the Crone Craftworld, are potentially at risk. With that in mind...”

Her gaze seemed to pierce through him. “Does it matter?

He was silent for a moment, meeting her gaze evenly.

Finally, he broke the stare-off, and chuckled. “No. I don't suppose it does.”

“Good!” she said cheerfully, “Now then, since we've gotten all of that cleared up, I'm going to go out and scare some Craftworlders before we have our little get-together! I wonder if I can make another Warlock roll down a hill...” as she left his pavilion, he heard her exclamation from outside. “Wait, is that Farseer smiling? Since when could they do that?”

Spoiler:
Done with the writing relating to my first couple of rolls. Now it's time to take a few more actions...




Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/04/01 21:04:43


Post by: Palleus


Squigs snarled and strained at their leashes as the ork search party scoured the jungle, a grizzled nob leading the hunt. A chorus of snickering, jeering, and overall boasting rose from the pack of hunters, filling the jungle with their tall talk of battle prowess once they found their foes. Tall talk that reached the ears of Guts Da Vagabond.

To the untrained eye, the massive bulk of the nob was almost indistinguishable from the branches he leaned against. His green skin, marred by battle scars aplenty and mud formed into camouflage stripes, blended into the foliage well enough that it took far more than a passing glance to distinguish canopy from greenskin. Guts offered a sneering smile to the search party below. This was a game he had played for years, ever since he had dared to challenge Neroz Da Ugly. Gut’s empty eye socket was a souvenir to the day that he had lost. Now the untamed jungle was his home, plagued by constant search parties for his head, and the heads of the few remaining boys that followed him into exile. Guts’ smile turned into a wicked grin as he saw one of the squig handlers get a little too close to one of the tree, and with a quick chop of his hand, he signaled a hidden boy to strike. A javelin whistled silently through the trees, passing the doomed ork by mere inches, and struck its target.

The tree was angered.

Javelin fully lodged in its bark, the tree creaked and groaned as it retaliated against its perceived attackers. The squig handler barely had the time to scream before he and his squig were wrapped in the tree’s crushing embrace of death. The rest of the search party gathered to the awakened tree as it still spun and reached its branches out to avenge its wound.

“Get back! I said get back you lot!” Barked the lead nob, pushing his way through the ranks of squig handlers to get a better view at the carnage. “Wot happened ‘ere?”

“I dunno boss…” piped one of the handlers. “We was looking for tha’ Vagabond boyz, and all tha’ sudden, tha’ tree snatched ‘em! I don’ like this… if tha’ trees are mad at us now, we’s better leg it back to camp…” He said, his squig whimpering its approval of the plan.

“I iz that boss of dis’ search party!” the Nob bellowed into the hander’s face. “I gets to say what we’z gunna do, and what we’z ain’t gunna do! And I says that we’s gunna get outta ‘ere before more trees gets angry.”

The rest of the party gave their brutish approval, before turning back to the camp, carefully staying clear of the trees around them. Once the last greenskin faded from view, Guts slid down the tree with his boys.

“Looks like we gots squig meat tonight boys!” Guts said, a broad smile on his lips. “Just wait till that tree calms down before ya try ta snag it.”

“Boss! We gots company!” Called a voice from the treetops.

“Company!? Tha’ search party left!”

“Dis one ain’t from tha’ search party, boss! He’s commin’ right at us!”

“Alright boyz. Get yer spears ready, an’ spread out!”

On Guts’ orders, the company of boys sunk into the landscape, each to a tree or bush, and each with a javelin poised to strike. Guts stood, seemingly alone, facing the greenskin that dared intrude into his exiled lands. As the intruder came closer, the sounds of heavy footfalls though the brush were accompanied by a faint and foreign hum. Perplexed, Guts stood his ground to see who, and what, would emerge from the undergrowth.

What emerged was something that Guts had never seen.

This greenskin's left hand was gloved in a gigantic metal claw that twitched with anticipation, while the other hand held a strange square device. On his back was a perplexing array of rods and balls that produced the faint hum heard though the trees.

“Oi!” Guts shouted to his unexpected guest. “An’ what kinda’ git are you?”

The other greenskin smiled. It was sly, knowing, and disturbing all in one toothy package. “I‘z mek Hannibal. You must be Guts Da Vagabond, yeah? Guess my gitfinda' works.” He said triumphantly, holding up the strange square device.

“What’s it to ya, wierdboy?”

“Neroz’s got quite-a prize on ya’ scalp. He says he’ll make tha’ one dat brings yer ‘ead back gets ta’ be in the honork guard.”

Guts snorted. “If ya fink ya can get in the honork by killin’ me. Ya gots another fink commin’.”

Guts gave the signal, and three javelins soared out of the brush and streaked towards Hannibal. In the blink of an eye, green energy flashed from Hannibal’s array, catching two of the three javelins and blasting them to splinters mid-air. Raising his clawed hand, Hannibal deflected the third javelin, muttering something about readjusting capacitors before turning his attention back to Guts.

“I ain’t ‘ere to join some zoggin’ honork guard. I’z here ta see if you you wants in.”

“In on wot?”

Hannibal grinned. “Killin’ Neroz, that’s wot. Yer lookin’ at tha’ future warboss.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“AN HONOR!? YA GOTS TA’ BE ZOGGIN’ KIDDIN’ ME!” Ace Blackblood bellowed at the top of his lungs as he threw furniture into the air, rampaging around his hut. Ace was one of Neroz’s honork guard, something many boys aspired to, and many failed at. Only the best of the best were called to be in the honork guard, and Ace was no exception, earning his position with a strong arm and killer aim. The benefits of being part of the honork guard were great. The best food, the most spacious housing, a small mob of boys to call your own, and being sent on only the most bloody of missions. This latest mission was not the kind of “honor” that Ace wanted.

“But boss, it ain’t that bad…” spoke a blackblood, one of Ace’s boys. “Maybe we’ll be tha’ ones tha’ get to tha’ umies?”

IT IZ THAT BAD YA GIT!” Ace shouted as he backhanded the foolish boy into a nearby wall. “He’s sendin’ us out on tha’ boats as soon as Hannibal’s done wit’ tha’ next batch’a ships! You know what happens to tha’ boyz on tha’ boats? THEY AIN’T NEVA’ SEEN AGAIN!”

Ace sat on the floor with a thump, his teeth grating against each other, and a threatening growl in his throat to prevent more foolish attempts at making the situation seem better than the truth. Ace harrumphed. The truth was Neroz did think of this as a great honor. A romanticized notion of sailing across the ocean, and taking the human city by storm, and raising banners in his name on the battlements. A dream that had no way of being realized with Neroz’s current stone-brained tactics. Ace snorted as he thought over his options. If he followed Neroz’s plans, then he would be lucky if he made it halfway to the mainland before being blasted out of the water by the humans. If he dared challenge the boss, he would lose. Good shot or no, it would take far more than a few well aimed javelins to take down Neroz Da Ugly. The only other option was escape. But if he managed to escape, he would have to climb the ranks of yet another ork tribe before he was considered capable of anything more than meager boot licking. The brooding silence was cut short by the faint creak of the hut door opening. Ace looked up to see a greenskin looking at the upturned furniture with a sickening gleam of glee in his eyes.

“Who tha’ gork are you?” Spat Ace “And what ya doin’ in my hut?”

The greenskin smiled. “I heard you’z tha’ next one dats takin’ my boats on a one way trip.”

Ace growled. “You must be Hannibal, huh? Ain’t you gots somthin’ better ta’ to than goatin’? Like buildin’ those boats?”

“I ain’t buildin’ no more boats for Neroz.”

“He’s boss Neroz to tha’ likes of ya, ya work slaver!” Ace countered, more out of prideful reflex than anything.

“What if I told ya, you ain’t gunna be on any suicide boat longer?”

“Yeah?”

“What if I told ya, that he ain’t gunna be boss much longer either?”

“What if I told ya, yous iz outta yer zoggin mind? He’s too big. You ain’t gunna stand a chance against ‘em.” Ace bitterly spat. No one could beat boss Neroz. He was stone-brained, but his might was the greatest in the tribe. Hannibal merely smiled again at the comment.

“Oh I fink dere’s somethin’ I gots ta’ show ya den. If ya don’ want ta’ get sent off ta’ a wet death, I fink you’d better come see…”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

IronGore sat in his cell and counted his scars. Brawls between his smaller cell mates were sometimes sporting, but mostly dull. The only entertainment for the battered nob came in the form of the morning matches. Gladiatorial battles for the enjoyment of Neroz Da Ugly. Wither it was against the creatures of the forest, other prisoners, or another nob that boasted himself into thinking he was capable to taking down the arena champion, the end result was always the same. They fought, the enemy died, and IronGore was patched up for the next fight.

He used to keep up with the days kept in captivity, hoping for an eventual rescue. But days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months, and months turned into years, and still there was no sign of rescue. Losing all hope in anything more than being used as the entertainment for Neroz, all IronGore had left was to count his scars.

A quiet thump woke IronGore from his nightly ritual, and he straightened as an unknown figure approached his bars.

“‘Ello IronGore. Good ta’ meet ya. I’z Hannibal. I gots a proposition for ya.”

IronGore walked to the bars and took a good look at Hannibal before speaking. “Wot’s it?”

“How’d ya like to be outta dat cell?”

“I don’ fink Neroz would like it.”

“I don’ care wot Neroz likes. He ain’t gunna be boss much longer. Sides, da new boss is gunna need some lefftenants. An’ you’d make a good un’.”

“Who’s gunna be da new boss? You? Ain’t you a bit… small ta’ be tha’ boss?”

Hannibal grinned wickedly at the jab to his size. A wicked and knowing grin. “Let me worry about that now. Do ya want ta’ be outta here or not?”

“Dere’s guards.”

“One guard. An’ he ain’t wakin’ up anytime soon.” Hannibal stated confidently, flexing his clawed hand.

“What ‘appened to tha’ others?”

“Dey’re distracted. Neroz iz handin’ out some’a my new weapons in da’ village.”

“You gave ‘em new weapons?”

Hannibal chuckled “Don’ worry. Yer’ gettin’ better ones. So, you in?”

“I’z in, on one condition.”

“Funny, I’z got one condition too.”

“Wot’s that?”

“When I’m da boss, you gets ta’ be my lefftenant. But no runnin back to SkullEata, gots it? You iz my lefftenant.”

Irongore snorted. “It's been years, an' SkullEata ain’t here bustin’ me out. He an’ his boyz ain’t kin ta’ me anymore. Dey left me for dead. But I ain’t doin’ that ta' tha’ boyz in ‘ere. If ya bust me out. We’z all getting’ out. You bust us all out, an' yer' kin ta' me.”

Hannibal smiled. “Ya gots yerself a deal.”

A few short minutes, and a few flexes of Hannibal’s claw later, the greenskins found themselves outside the arena, Hannibal dragging the drooling unconscious guard behind him. IronGore took a moment to breathe in the clean night air, and look up at the stars again. It had been years since he had seen them, and they seemed to shine brighter in a joyous greeting for him. Out of the shadows of the night came the shapes of two nobs. IronGore stiffened, his fists clenched, and poised to attack before Hannibal touched his shoulder.

“It’s tha’ otha’ lefftenants.” He explained before turning to one of the Nobs. “Ace, did tha’ handout go well?”

“He liked ‘em, boss. He liked ‘em a lot. But he didn’ go for tha’ big ‘un.”

Hannibal’s face furrowed. “Who’d he give it ta’?”

“Gort BadStomp. He said it was for krumpin’ the SkullEataz real good last time.”

Hannibal scratched his chin and thought for a moment. “Not wot I wanted, but still could be useful…” He trailed off, still deep in thought for a few moments more before snapping back to reality and dropping the unconscious ork.

“We needs ta’ ‘ead out before dem’ guards come back.” He said finally. “Guts. Give us a good ‘ead start, den torch da’ place an’ get out. I gots some toys for you boyz that I fink you’ll really like. Come on now, we got’s a warboss ta’ krump in tha’ mornin’!”

Spoiler:
Recruitment: Victory.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/04/01 21:38:45


Post by: Bobthehero


----- Scion Basecamp, Drake Point -----

The Valkyrie landed in the middle of the night a lone bird in the air. Castella existed her transport with a few men that came to help secure the palace. Her left arm was held in place in a bandage. Gallus had ordered her to reported to his tent, he was too busy to wait for her at the landing pad. Gallus message had been quick, he was clearly angry at the losses of his men, she made her way to her commander tent to deliver her report.

'' Sir? '' She asked, entering the command tent

'' Ah, Castella, you're there, what the hell happened? '' Gallus asked

'' The Orks, sir, commandos, they struck the palace, tried and kill everyone ''

'' And our men? ''

'' All dead, I've asked around and going from where their bodies were, they froze up is my guess ''

'' I suppose that's what we get for sending newly qualified Scions for that ''

'' Either that or they still get their '' fix bayonet '' mentalities from the time in the Guard, I think, sir, that we should work harder to remove that ''

Gallus briefly pondered on her suggestion and nodded

'' Makes sense, you'll take care of things, what happened to you arm? ''

'' These ridiculous parade holsters got in the way of my drawing, had to use silverware as a shield ''

Gallus raised an eyebrow

'' You were wearing ful carapace armor and you used silverware? ''

'' Consider it a reflex, sir I doubt it helped much ''

'' Mhmm, well then, next time there's an event like that I'll go myself, and we'll ditch the ceremonials, go in full combat gear and with veterans, no excuses for dying like a green soldier on his first battlefield ''

'' Can't wait to see you try and eat with a power fist, sir ''

Riley smiled at the comment and continued

'' Now, what did you learn? ''

''Eh... you're not gonna like it, sir, there's a lot of Astartes present, no Guard and some Inquisition ''

'' We'll play on our then, what else? ''

'' Three problems, the Orks, and two groups of cultists, we have the name and the general description of the leader of one of them, the Tillers, his name is Horatio Payne, he's on Krius and - ''

'' Then we have our target, we'll take out that idiot while we train the PDF here, I'll make plans for that tomorrow ''

'' What about the Ork ship? ''

'' You said something about Marines being killed in the attack, as well? Well there you go, leave the Orks to e'm, they'll want revenge for their fallen brothers ''

'' Not us? ''

'' Subversion's a much bigger issue, I find and we got a lot more intel for this than for anything else, dismised ''


----- The next day -----

Fourteen men and women stood at attention in front of Gallus, amongst them, Tempestor Secundus Mallia, who was chosen to lead them. Gallus turned on a cogitator and inserted a dataslate in it. A face showed up on the screen.

'' This is Horatio Payne, so called descendant of the good governor, and one of you '' Riley looked at the two sniper teams present '' is going to put a an explosive hellshot round in him. He's holed in city on another continent, some of you will enter the city, pose as civies, the rest will relay intel here, where we will make decisions as to when and where to take the shot. Tempestor Castella '' '' Sir! '' '' here will be in charge of all of you while you're down there, she will decide who to send where. She has full autority to give the order to take the shot if such an oportunity arises ''



Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/04/01 22:26:33


Post by: Ezra Tyrius


Kusun’s heavy footsteps resounded loudly in the long hallway leading towards the Omnia Cadunt’s armoury. The floor trembled softly beneath his feet, the mighty vibrations of the generators and engines clearly discernible in this part of the ship as it gradually moved into position.

It had been two days since they had managed to slip into the system undetected, and the ship now hung in orbit above Crion’s second moon as they prepared for deployment on the surface. He had tasked his crew to decipher the various signals coming from all over the system while he and a small strike force investigated the moon for anything useful.

Kusun growled. The thought of simply eradicating the worthless inhabitants of the blasted rock below him was tempting, but corpses sadly lacked the ability to give him any clues as to where his quarry was hiding. He would have to make do with terrorizing the slaves for now, although he knew that would not sate his hunger for long.

His line of thought was rudely interrupted when a shape nearly barrelled into him from an adjacent corridor. Instinctively, he stepped back, his hand already locked on the grip of his Bolt pistol; it would not be the first time an ambitious subordinate had come to face him.

His grip relaxed slighlty as he recognized the hideous form of an Akhenat-pattern slave-construct, which was the usual companion of-

“Mithras.”

From the darkness of the corridor appeared a second figure, one more imposing than the frail body of the aberrant machine.

“Kusun.”

Mithras’ voice was like a sliver of ice, crawling down the back of one’s spine. The Dark Apostle relished his oratory skills, always finding the right words and phrases for every occasion. His face was hidden behind his ornate, horned helmet, but Kusun could sense the Apostle’s sinister grin all the same.

If one would have passed the same hallway in that moment, they would have been able to feel the tension between the two Astartes as one might feel the cold, unfeeling texture of a ferrocrete wall.

On one side, a giant whose black armour was covered in spikes, horns and the contorted faces of bound daemons, whose visage was trembling softly, like ripples in still waters, waiting for the predator underneath to rise to the surface with terrifying fury.

On the other side, an Astartes slightly taller than the first, whose appearance was enlarged further by the unholy icon reaching upwards from his backpack. His crimson form glistened from the sacred oils that had been applied to it, although what fluids it was that the Apostle used to bless his armour was a question best left unanswered.

The slave-construct’s metallic eyes went from Kusun to Mithras, analysing both Astartes with the morbid curiosity typical of the Abominable Intelligence used by the Dark Mechanicum.

“Heard you’re going to the surface”, Mithras continued, cocking his head ever so slightly.

“You heard correctly then”, Kusun replied coolly, his eyes firmly locked on Mithras’.

“I don’t recall being invited”, Mithras smirked. “You are aware that by doing so you leave me in command of the Omnia Cadunt?”

Kusun didn’t reply. A soft laugh escaped Mithras’s throat.

“I didn’t know you trusted me with such an honour, Brother”, Mithras spoke, now audibly amused by the situation. Kusun knew the Apostle was gauging how far he could go with that power, but he had no intention of rising to the bait.

Instead, he was going to remind Mithras of his place.

“I trust you with nothing, Apostle”, Kusun replied, keeping his composure as calm as he could. “In fact, if your survival was not a prerequisite for my return to the Warmaster’s side, I would have slain you and offered up your skull to Khorne the day I was put on the same vessel as you.”

Mithras’ smile evaporated. Kusun couldn’t see it, but Mithras’ body language told him enough.

“Besides, I do not believe I have much to worry about from you, Mithras”, he continued, taking a step forwards towards the Apostle.

“Because if my memory serves me correctly, I am not the only one who has to atone for previous… mistakes, is it not?”

Kusun had stepped even closer now, his right hand idly tracing the haft of his daemon-possessed axe as he felt his rage boiling up.

Mithras said nothing. He stood there, motionless, waiting for Kusun’s next move. Mithras was a mountain in the face of a tsunami, the calm before the storm that was Kusun’s rage.

Kusun’s eyes bored into Mithras’ for a few more minutes, before he turned around and continued to walk towards the armoury. He felt the Apostle’s eyes stabbing him the back, but he knew Mithras was smart enough not to challenge him while his own position was equally fragile.

As he neared the end of the hallway, he addressed Mithras a final time.

“And do not forget, Apostle...

Omnia cadunt.”


Spoiler:
The Black Legion lads are hanging out above Moon #2 at the moment

Also, in case someone's interested, Omnia Cadunt means 'All Things Fall'


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/04/01 22:53:54


Post by: EvergreenArcher


[Pike-ard, Crion]
Run
The ravener charged out into the open. He was sent to suicide charge the trees and see what would happen. The hive had stopped all assaults upon the trees. There weren’t enough bodies left to throw at them. The ravener had made it to the halfway point. The trees were silent. No attack came. No surprise trick. Silence.
Continue on and Investigate
The ravener continued on its way mindlessly. Its will was to to obey, even if it meant its death. It was now steadily closing in on the tree line. Silence. The hive did not understand. Nothing was happening. Did this mean that if the hive does not attack something, there is no battle? No, the hive must attack. More biomass is always required. The brood must gather all of it, on every planet. None shall be spared. The ravener was at the first tree. It continued on and slithered over the root in front of it. Nothing happened. The ravener was entirely focused on hearing or sensing the smallest noise that would mean its death. There was no noise. All that could be heard was the soft sounds of leaves rustling in the wind.
Safety
The trees were silent. The hive had created a ceasefire for now. There would be revenge later on. The time was not now. There were orks to eat right now.
Send out a raiding party. Ambush. Kill. Consume. Retreat.
A large group of raveners exited the crashed space hulk along with a the Great One to project synapse to the forces. A small swarm of rippers scuttled behind them to finish the job afterward. The party went south, all the way back to Jorgan. To where the first enemy the brood encountered here slept. They would no longer rest soon.

[A few hours later, Jorgan, Crion]
Wait at the tree line. Send out a small force. Lure them out. Slay them all.
Raveners are designed to be experts of ambush. They slink into the shadows, slithering out of sight. Any biomass with a trained eye would see them. These, however, were orks that already had sight of prey. The orks hiding in their camp had quickly spotted the Great One striding forward, gallantly spraying its venom cannon out towards the fort, and letting loose a loud, primal roar. The bio-forms in wait were well prepared as the Great One made its way back to them. The orks had swarmed out in a large group to challenge such a mighty form as the Hive Tyrant. One of the larger nobz the lictor had spotted earlier was leading the charge. His name was "Leftenut" JagBore, a close friend of KoreGog. He would bring great biomass and would weaken the orks. The first half of the orks had made it into the tree line.
Attack.
The orks received the full fury of a very angry hive fleet. Raveners surrounded the bulk of the ork army, either leaping in to slice and dice, or to rip greenskins apart with devourers and deathspitters. All ranged fire was very precise, even if it took longer to shoot. No tree was to be harmed. The Great One approached the puny nob that called himself JagBore. None could match the grand view of the Hive Tyrant. The Great One was given a wide berth by all of the nearby boyz. The fight was between one of da biggest and strongest, and one of the highly adapted and very strong. None of the orks carried ranged weapons, even JagBore.

“You’z gonna regret trying ta take our fort! I’m gonna get a new trophy on da wall taday!” JagBore said. He took a swing at the Great One.

The hive did not care about “words.” They were simply a primitive form of communication unlike the highly evolved form used by the hive. All the brood could understand from what he said, was that he thought he was going to win. False. The hive tyrant blocked the ‘uge choppa with a talon, while taking a swipe with the other. The nob dodged out of the way with surprising dexterity for such a bulky body.

“Ha, you dink I waz gonna get hit by dat? Youz weaker den I thought!”

The hive tyrant did not care about these taunts. It merely continued with the attack. It stabbed out with the talons again to try and hit him, but again, the nob was gone before they hit. This happened once more before the Great One changed tactics. As it was swiping out with the scything talons, it also fired the venom cannon. The nob could not hope to dodge it all. One talon gouged a rent in the side of the nob. This, however, only angered him more.

With a loud “Waaagghh!” the nob charged at it while taking quick chops wherever he could get them in. The hive tyrant was put on the defensive, but not for long. Honor, is not a tyranid term. It was used for foolish biomass. The orks stayed away from the one on one duel. The lictor, was waiting for the time to strike. As the relentless assault came down upon the hive tyrant, the lictor stuck from the shadows. It dug in to the back of the nob, severing its spine with an accurate blow. The nob fell to the ground, all limbs unresponsive. It still refused to die.

“Oi, why kant I move ma legs? What ha-“

The swarm was done hearing him talk. The lictor finished the job while the Great Hive Tyrant went about butchering any orks that didn’t already flee back to the fort. A nice portion of the greenskins that had went out to meet them had been slaughtered. With the bodies that had been slain, not many losses were actually an issue. The fight had went well. In the end, it was still not a lot of orks compared to what was left in the encampment.
Soon they shall fall as well. Consume. Retreat.
The rippers quickly set into the dead bodies, reclaiming the biomass left there. Soon enough, there was no sign of the battle except for some foliage that had been disrupted. The force returned home to do the will of the hive. The hive had won. The hive had proven its strength.
Long live the hive

Spoiler:
I stopped attacking trees who stopped attacking me in return, and I sent out a ambush force to kill as many with as little deaths where I rolled a victory.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/04/03 09:57:30


Post by: The_Grey_Knight


Flames raged around it, as Sheagoresh advanced upon the farmer and his family. The farmer himself stepped forward in a pityful attempt to protect his family. The Solitaire wasted no time in stabbing his Harlequins kiss into the man's stomach, the monofilament wire tearing his waist apart, before kicking his legs away from him. The two seperate parts of the farmer made satisfying thuds as they hit the ground. Leaping forward, Sheagoresh swept its left hand up, the
phase field on the end of the caress cutting through the human female like there was nothing there, before advancing on the bawling child. Sheagoresh judged his age to be around 6 Terran years, but it showed him no mercy as the Great Harlequin kicked him, before embedding his hand in the frightned face of the child. The silence that followed was so much more pleasing to the Solitaire, who had always been more akin to the Masque of the Silent Shroud than
any other masque. Getting up, Sheagoresh moved onto the next house, the fields of crops around them ablaze as shadowy figures danced through.

Nysshea crouched on the roof of nearby cottage, its occupants already smeared across the walls. The plan to burn the farms had been as a result of her failings, and she still bore the scars of it. The shadowseers had been able to do little for her shoulder and so she was forced to rely mostly on her right arm, an annoyance as it meant less accurate shooting. But it was not like the farmers would be shooting back. She could see the two masques prancing through
the burning fields, hunting the humans like they were no better than animals. Which they weren't. The Players of the Silent Shroud were unnaturaly quiet as they set about their task, the hiss of gunfire strangely silent, prefering to end their quary quickly lest they scream. Nysshea and the rest of the Reaper's Mirth didn't like this way, they more enjoyed hearing their prey scream in blind terror. And such was the case across the farms. Next to pockets of silence, were
pockets of absoulute madness, where the human farmers were killed horrifcally and slowly. In Nysshea's opinion, this compensated for the fact the slaughter was so small scale. The Harlequins only had the resources for a small area, and had to strike quickly afterwards lest the guard ramps up security. As long as Edreach did his job... At that moment, something caught Nysshea's eye. In a little ditch was a group of farmers, holding an assortment of 'weapons'-kitchen knives, pitchforks, some one was even holding a broom. Amused, the Death Jester watched. A burly man holding a scythe, who was obviously the leader, was rallying them, telling them that it was for their families, for the God-Emperor. What rubbish. Laughing, Nysshea aimed at the leader, just as he reached the pinnacle of his talk. The air filled with a loud shriek and Nysshea's, even with her bad arm, shot was true. The man screamed, and then exploded, drowning the group in a tide of super-heated gore. No one survived. Nysshea, grinning, stood up and applauded their deaths. That was entertining.

-----------------------------------
Beneath Hive Torcan


Edreach watched William Barett stroll through the tunnel, who was unaware of the shadowseer that lurked in the shadows. The Harlequin had entered the Bleeder's teritory head on, cloaking the shadows around him. Slipping past the guards, clouding their minds, Edreach had headed straight for the back streets, away from prying eyes. He'd observed the gang, and the Kretchmas, for a week now after their failed attempt at storming the hive. In this time, he'd
formed a plan on how best to start a gang war. He'd found that the Kretchmas were run by a single family, and that the first born son, due to inherit the gang, was not taken to walking around with many guards in tow. From there it was just a case of how to frame the bleeders. William Barett, who now walked past the clown, was the best way to do it. As a boy, William had rose to fame when he had single handedly brought down a plot to overthrow Shane O'Conner (the Bleeder boss). Since then, he had become an enforcer, and gathered more fame through acts like the 79th Kretchma assault and the green assasin. However, he was known to have a raging temper, to swing first and think about the consequences later. And through all of this he had only ever used one dagger. Right now, he was returning from a meeting with Shane, alone to be as inconspicuous as possible. Stepping forward, Edreach sent his psykic
power into the enforcer's mind, watching as William fell to the ground, already asleep. Moving quickly, the Shadowseer stole the dagger, and hurried towards his true target, wiping the enforcers mind.

The underbelly of the hive was even more confusing than the above, but the Shadowseer knew the way, as if by instinct. All the while sticking to the shadows, he stalked through the darkened tunnels towards Anton Kretchma. It wasn't long until he found him. Anton was swaying down a tunnel, clearly drunk, with four angry looking guards behind. Four? This would be easy. Surging forward, Edreach slammed his miststave into the head of one guard, crushing it against the wall like a grape. Before anyone could react to this, he wirled to the next, slamming the butt into the guards chest, and laughed as it collapsed inwards. The other two rushed at him, while Anton stumbled away. Firing his neuro disruptor, Edreach watched as the guard hit fell to the ground, screaming in agony as his nerves disintegrated. The final protector had no chance one on one against a Harlequin, but charged anyway. Ducking, the clown swept the man's legs out from under him, rising again to fire down. Turning as the man screamed, Edreach faced the son. He was gaping at the Shadowseer from the floor where he'd slipped in his drunken state, begging for his life. Unsheathing William's dagger, Edreach stepped towards the human, and plunged it through his throat, watching as the man choked on his own blood. Then, like a shadow, he slipped out.

Sheagoresh could feel that the deed was done. It was stood over the body of a middle-aged man when the Solitaire felt it. It was like a change in the air current, a subtle change of fate. But it made all the difference. The farms had never been a way to starve the hive, there were too few of them for that. It had simply been an entrance for the two masques, and now the gang alliance was off, nothing could stop them. Cegorach's will would be done.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/04/03 10:12:09


Post by: Irishpeacockz



Cearul brought the Canagan back around towards what remained of the Planetary Governor Payne's Mansion. It was a battlefield, the ork's crude beach assault craft littered the shoreline along with corpses of both Orks and men strewn all over the area where the orks had landed. Cearul approached a landing pad where many aircraft were coming and going, the various leader's of the Imperium departing to spread word of this assault and to shore up their own defences deduced Faolan as Cearul pulled up to a landing pad with Cabhan Cadarn and Pryce Nye along with one of their own thunderhawks, the Cuir Airde, which was awaiting his return. Pryce took a step forward with a confused expression " What the feth happened ?" Faolan raised his hand, "let us embark brothers, we can reflect on recent events on the return journey". Faolan's thunderhawk took to the skies leaving Payne Manor behind them.

Cearul broke the silence " That was .... more interesting than I thought it would be"

"That is one way to put it" nodded Faolan

"What just happened ? " inquired Pryce

"It seems that this whoever this Big Boss is just tried to kill off all the imperium leaders stationed on Crion" explained Faolan

"Extremely cunning for an ork" added Cabhan

"Indeed" agreed Faolan, "Cearul I do not want an assault on such scale to happen back on the isles, whatever security Ardan has placed double it"

"Yes sir, I must admit I am eager to see what the old dog managed to conjure up" grinned Cearul

"As am I" admitted Faolan.

Silence once again entered the Thunderhawk, Faolan took the opportunity to reflect on the banquet, more specifically the leaders he encountered there. When Faolan thought of the leaders he met at the banquet Planetary Governor Payne was the first to come to mind. He came across as a self entitled idiot whose laziness in terms of security endangered the entire crusade and possibly the whole sector, needless to say after today Faolan neither liked nor trusted the Planetary Governor. From the sounds of it Tobias came from a proud legacy, he disgraces it with his incompetence thought Faolan for allowing not only speratists to rise but the foul corruption of chaos aswell. The thought of the Governor made Faolan's blood boil and he decided to move on.

His mind drifted to his brothers in the 3rd company of the Ultramarines, Chaplain Iodius and Captain Ceasar particularly. Faolan noted that they brought an unusual large amount of marines to the banquet but could not deny their usefulness considering what transpired. Iodius struck Faolan as everything a Chaplain should be, Leadership apparently came easy to the Chaplin with the marines serving with him seem to be inspired by him,Faolan gathered that if he asked his marines to follow him into the eye of terror itself they would. An inspiration to us all remarked Faolan.Captain Ceasar appeared to be friendly, at least to his fellow battle brothers and was willing take or throw a joke around, not so much unlike Cearul thought Faolan. Faolan also took note that even disarmed the Captain still fought on with his fists against the greentide of flith. Commendable indeed mused Faolan.

Faolan moved on the Lord Captain Fairfax and his entourage next, Faolan recalled how the Rogue Trader took note of what was said at the meeting specifically the three main threats that were discussed and how he agreed with Tempestor Castilla on the distrust of the Arbiters of Truth which suprised Faolan. Why would a rogue trader have so much distrust for the Angel and the Arbiters of truth ? Unless he has history with them deduced Faolan. Faolan also recalled how Lord Captain Fairfax's skin was saved by Magos Liza. An interesting person, Faolan was unsure what to call her, Magos Liza seemed to be organic apart from her rebreather and her braided "hair" of metal and cable. Faolan was impressed at her combat prowess she displayed in saving the Lord Captain, an interesting individual to be sure thought Faolan. Edward Fairfax's second in command also caught Faolan's eye, Garth displayed the usual stereotype of a commissar. He was silent, alert and looked a bit grumpy, he even had the uniform on. I must inquire as to how he managed to give up his duties to the commissars the next time I meet this man noted Faolan, I bet an interesting tale lies behind it.

Captain Tanaris of the Carcharodons Chapter sprang to mind next, a chapter with a bloodied reputation remarked Faolan. He frowned upon the way Captain Tanaris declared that he had no interest in Crion but merely the Eldar that reside upon it. Faolan believed that Space Marines are to go to where they are needed not where they willed, if every chapter followed Captain Tanaris' example the Imperium would have fallen long ago as each chapter would have their own agenda and would have no interest in assisting the Imperium. Not to mention the fact that he wore Tactical Dreadnought Armour to a banquet, prehaps as an intimidation tactic if nothing else, it seems his chapter strives on fear. Needless to say Faolan was not impressed by Captain Tanaris' display.

Another individual who impressed Faolan was the beautiful High Queen Moira Valorn
who proved that experience is not everything when she hacked and slashed numerous ork kommandos with her power sabre when they attacked the manor. Faolan was glad to see that the High Queen did not rely on her suit completely in combat.Prehaps there is more to this one than I initially thought admitted Faolan.

How could Faolan forget Ulfric Stormclaw's entrance to the banquet ? With his war horn and all, Faolan even give a chuckle at the look of some of the nobles faces when he blew into it, no doubt followed by the typical mutterings of savages and barbarians as they go to mingle with their peers or to get another glass of punch. Faolan did not mind though prehaps he even liked it seeing the nobles uncomfortable if not for a second. It should be no suprise that Faolan preferred the company of Lord Stormclaw to the other Imperial leaders so much so that he often let his guard down in Lord Stormclaw's company more often than Faolan would like the admit, must be the mead decided Faolan. Rumors about the Emperor's Hounds being a successor to the Space Wolves still persist to this very day although there is very little to support this bar a few similarities in command structure and iconography. None the less Faolan looked fondly upon Lord Ulfric Stormclaw and his battle brothers.

Faolan rattled his brain trying to remember the diplomatic suite and who was sitting where feeling as if he had forgotten a few leaders, ah yes Tempestor Castilla recalled Faolan noting her objection for the Arbiters of Truth to battle the heretics. Understandable thought Faolan but the Angels point of atoning for their sins is also valid, a slippery slope deemed Faolan and one I stayed out of. When the orks attacked Castilla was one of the first to be attacked and was unprepared like the majority of the delegation and if she was a normal guardsmen prehaps she would have perished but Tempestor Castilla was a soldier of the 85th Scions and thought on her feet grabbing a nearby silverware try to act as an improvised shield which impressed Faolan to no end. What also impressed Faolan what the Angel which leaped across the room to assist the Tempestor despite the fact that they were arguing moments earlier.

Like Magis Liza the Angel was a very mysterious figure to Faolan. She was dark haired and had bronze skin, hot white talons replaced her hands and not to mention the two great golden wings she sported from her back. The way she took down the ork that was threatening Castilla and the way she incinerated another was almost hypnotic to Faolan, he quickly shook his head and moved on to the final Imperial Leader.

The way the banquet responded to Inquisitor Garrett Randell's reflected Faolan's opinion of the organisation. The bands stopped playing, people who were having a good time chatting and gossiping stop and stared, the whole room that was filled with laughter and music just seconds ago plunged into silence as the Inquisitor entered the room, the life was sucked out of it. The Inquisition is an essential organisation to the Imperium's survival and Faolan understood that but the way cetain Inquisitors conduct their business left a sour taste in Faolan's mouth. That being said Inquisitor Randell was quick to respond to the ork threat and to come up with a counter attack. Faolan grudgingly respected the Inquisitor for that much at least.
-----------------------------------------------
The Cuir Airde landed back on the isles of Pratt. Faolan disembarked to find his old friend Ardan Rymus and Emyr Glaw to welcome him to their new home, at least for the for the foreseeable future. "How was the banquet Sir ?" Inquired Ardan

"Interesting, we will talk more inside" Ardan showed Faolan to his quarters while Cearul went off to complete his Commander's task. From what Faolan saw during his walk from the Cuir Airde Ardan had done well, as Faolan knew he would. He has used the terrain to his advantage forcing an invading force to attack up a slope, trees were being cleared to allow vision across a majority of the isle, high walls, tarantula turrents and patrols were set up forming a strong perimeter and by the looks of things most of the base itself was in order. Ardan reached the largest building which was more or less in the center of the complex, he opened the door and stepped aside allowing Faolan through "Always a gentleman" joked Faolan as he stepped on in, "Good work on the base old friend but I did not quite catch the name of it" Ardan donned a confused expression " A what ?" Faolan spun on his heels " A name ! What shall we call this bastion of hope, I guess you did not think of such a thing have you ?" Quizzed Faolan with a slight tone of disappointment " No I did not" admitted Ardan. "Very Well, spread the word this camp shall be henceforth called Canis Caelum" Ardan slammed his fist to his breastplate " Before you go Ardan I trust Chaplain Carwyn landed ? " " Indeed he has, will I summon him ? " Faolan leaned forward with both hands on a large round table in the center of the room " Indeed along with the rest of my war council, the banquet has highlighted a few threats to be purged" Ardan grinned "Finally the real work begins"

Spoiler:
Takes place on Payne Manor and the Isles of pratt, also my Base gets a name Yea !! If anyone has any issues with their characters in this feel free to PM me and i can do some edits if i feel they are reasonable






Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/04/04 17:35:46


Post by: Palleus


Grim, Cambria

The night sky was filled with the sound of metal beating against metal and the red glow of molten iron as Hannibal’s boys churned out thick armor plates in a crude assembly line. Hannibal looked out from the balcony of his hut, well pleased with the rate of production as he saw grots scurry about with boxes full of newly minted bullets gleaming in the red glow. It was glorious, the vision of so many of his creations coming to life before his very eyes. The most exciting creations were not coming to life on the assembly line, but they were on his workbench in his hut.

“Ya sure ya don’ want one a’ my ‘specialty items?’ ” Hannibal asked Guts, casually pointing to a small pile of flamethrowers, and large machine guns.

“Nah, boss. Save it for tha’ boyz. Tha’ eye’s good ‘nuff.” Guts replied. Where his empty eye socket used to be, now a mechanical eye sat, a bright blue light shone behind the lens. While he greatly appreciated the return of depth perception, Guts insisted that he preferred some of the quieter fighting methods, choosing for himself a pair of metal axes and a half dozen metal javelins, all of which he proceeded to grind to razor sharpness.

“Suit yerself” Hannibal said with a shrug returning to his most recent pet project. Flipping his welding mask down with a nod of his head and making a few more welds.

“Yer sure Neroz ain’t gunna see what’s goin’ on ‘ere and ‘ave a look?” Ace questioned, his eyes not leaving the window nearest to the village. He had taken residence there as soon as they had gotten back from the arena raid, and had only looked away for the briefest of moments when ironing out the details of his custom weapon.

Hannibal chuckled in reply. “He an’ tha’ rest’a tha’ tribe iz too busy puttin’ out tha’ fire. And even den’ Neroz’ll be too buy punishin’ somebodeh for tha’ burnin’. We’z got tha’ whole night ta ourselves.”

“Iz a good night…” IronGore’s words made the room stay silent. The nob had barely spoken since they had made their way to the shipyard, only to grunt his approval on seeing the vast array of weapons that Hannibal set out for him, and the rest of the lieutenants, to choose from. He was now practically clothed in firepower. Twin bandoliers, filled to the brim with rockets, hung from his shoulders. His hand rested on what Hannibal called a tankhammer, little more than a pole with a sturdy rack mounted on it for which to place rockets on before smashing them against the enemy. From his belt hung several sizable bombs, each capable of demolishing the largest hut in an instant.

“But wot about afta’ ‘dis night?” IronGore finally finished his eyes still on the stars.

“One ‘fing at a time, now. One ‘fing at a time.” Said Hannibal as he finished his last few welds, and examined his latest masterpiece. “Don’ worry, I got’s bigga’ plans than jus’ rulin’ ‘dis tribe. You lot ain’t gunna get bored. Yer’ weapon’s all done, Ace. Wanna give it a spin?”

Ace finally peeled his eyes from the window, a wicked gleam filling them as soon as he saw the weapon. Stood on its end, the gun was as tall as his own massive frame. A barrel the size of his face was fixed to the main body of the weapon, while a smaller lead-spewing barrel was mounted underneath. Testing the weight, Ace could not help but laugh. Before that moment, the greatest firepower that Ace had ever wielded was a boom spear, and he was itching to find out just how much greater firepower he held in his massive green hands. With barely a moment’s thought, Ace snagged an iron plate and flung it through the window. It corkscrewed though the air for a few moments before a green burst of energy impacted it, knocking a hole clean though and sending it on an even tighter spiral down to the ground.

“Watch wot yer’ doin’ ya git!” Barked Hannibal as he smacked Ace upside the head.

“Ya said give it a spin!”

“I didn’ say use tha’ metal as target practice! Tha’ was gunna be part’a yer armor! Now get me another plate from tha’ forge, else ya fancy gettin’ stabbed in tha’ one spot ya ain’t armored, cuz ya’ got too trigger happy, ya’ git!”

Ace grumbled to himself as he walked down the steps towards the forge, leaving Hannibal to begin welding on his new project.

“Ya sure we gots enough time fa’ all ‘dat?” Asked Guts, assuming Ace’s lookout position towards the village, his cybernetic eye flashing green as it switched to night vision. “We wanna’ get ta’ Neroz before he gets ta’ wonderin’ where we’re at.”

“Oh ‘dis? Dis ain’t gunna take too long. We’z got plenty a’ time before tha’ mornin’. An’ I plan on bein’ prepared before we’z get Neroz. If we ain’t prepared right, ‘den we’re headin’ ta’ our grave. An’ I gots lots’a livin’ left ta’ do. Now get ova’ ‘ere IronGore.” He said, lifting a pair of wicked looking spiked gauntlets. “Lemme see if these’ll fit ya right.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Work and anticipation kept Hannibal awake all though the night, but his senses were as sharp as ever as he walked out to inspect his boys. Iron gleamed in the rising sunlight, and Hannibal could not help but grin as he saw his vision in the flesh right in front of his eyes.

This was the start of his Iron Horde.

“Boyz!” He shouted, commanding their attention. “ ‘Dis iz a big day fer us! Too long we been lead by ‘dat idiot Neroz. Wot has he done fer us? Nothin’? I says, he’s done worse than nothin’! We’z been sendin’ out boyz on tha’ boats ta’ die! And we’z been fightin’ tha’ otha’ tribes, but we ain’t come even close ta’ krumpin’ them yet! I says we’z got’s ta’ do somethin’ about it, and ‘dats wot we’z gunna do today! Neroz ain’t tha’ best anymore. We’z tha’ best! We’z gots a warboss ta’ beat, an’ a whole tribe ta’ show jus’ why we’z tha’ best! ‘Dis iz gunna be tha’ end a’ Neroz, but we’z jus’ gettin’ started boyz! Tha’ otha’ tribes, tha’ umies, dey all gunna know who’s ‘da best! We’z tha’ best! An we’z gunna rule ‘dis land!”

The gathered assembly of boyz shouted their approval, beating their metal axes and swords against their armor and stomping in a steady rhythm as they began to chant.

“Orks! Orks! Orks! Orks! Orks! Orks! Orks! Orks!”

The chant became a war cry, and soon the entire host of greeskins charged forward towards the village.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Neroz Da Ugly made it a point to live up to his name. Not only was his skin tone a shade of vomit yellow-green, his face was badly wounded in a battle against the Spider Riders. While a painboy was able to patch up the damage with large staples, Neroz made it a point to reopen his facial wounds every time they seemed to be healing, in order to maintain his gruesome looks. He had a tendency to look particularly gruesome when his face twisted and contorted in rage. The way it was right now.

“I DON’ WAN’ EXCUSES! I WAN’ ANSWERS!” Neroz bellowed, standing in the middle of the charred wreckage that once was the arena.

The rest of the tribe kept their distance from the rampaging warboss, their eyes nervously darting around, hoping to find something to take Neroz’s attention and anger before they were caught in his quest for a scapegoat. So loud, and so great was Neroz’s tantrum, that he did not notice Hannibal’s iron host until it was too late.

Fire shot in great gouts over the heads of the surrounding boyz, as Hannibal’s host closed in, separating the other orks from Neroz.

“WOT IN GORK’S NAME ARE YA DOIN’!?” Bellowed a bewildered Neroz as he watched his orks flee from the flames.

“NEROZ DA UGLY! YER REIGN IS AT AN END!” Came Hannibal’s voice as he strode out of the chaos, orks parting before him as he approached the warboss. A vision of his own designs, Hannibal sported thick armor plates on his arms, legs and torso, the array of rods and balls was mounted on his back, while a pistol was held in his non-clawed hand.

“An who’s gunna end it!? You?” Neroz scoffed as he pulled out a stone axe, the blade easily as big as an entire nob. “I’d like ta’ see ya’ try, wierdboy!”

With that, the mob of orks was silenced, watching as the Hannibal and Neroz locked eyes, preparing themselves for the fight. Anticipation hung thick in the air, and hushed bets on the fight to come were made. Then, it happened.

“WAAAGH!” Neroz bellowed, hurling through the air. It soared with incredible speed towards Hannibal, before it was struck by a flash of green energy from Hannibal’s array, sending it spinning off course, and skewering a far off tree. The audience of orks moved slightly further away from the angered and now wildly thrashing tree as the duel continued on.

Hannibal waited until Neroz had closed the distance halfway before reacting. Taking careful aim, Hannibal fired a triple burst of bright green energy, catching Neroz in the leg, his momentum preventing him from dodging. Neroz’s skin blackened and blistered as each blast burned sizable chunks out of his yellowish flesh. Still on he ran, howling with pain and rage at Hannibal as he sought to avenge his wounds. Still Hannibal waited, a wicked green spreading across his face that only led to further fury from Neroz. Shouting a massive war cry that wracked the heavens, Neroz brought his giant axe down, eager to split his foe in half. With cold precision, Hannibal spun to the side, avoiding the axe as it buried itself in the ground and raking his metal claw against Neroz’s already damaged leg, exposing the bone underneath.

Neroz’s shredded leg buckled, and as he sunk to his knees, a gruff voice rose in protestation.

“Oi! He’s krumpin’ tha’ boss! I gots forty teef on ‘dis!” called Gort BadStomp, one of Neroz’s honork guard members. “I ain’t gunna lose forty teef on ‘dis upstart!” He yelled as he pushed though the crowd, a small chorus of agreement rising with him as several other honork guard members tried to push their way in.

“Boyz! Looks like we gots some gits ‘dat don’ wanna play by tha’ rulez!” Called Hannibal. And at his words, the wall of iron bodies tightened. Ace, Guts, and IronGore, moved to the troublemakers and by force of intimidation, and force of fists to the face, kept all but Gort BadStomp in line. As Gort made his way closer to the two combatants, Hannibal’s eyes light with a sickening glee.

“Ya’ ‘fink ya’ can use my own weapon against me?” Hannibal said, indicating the large metal battleaxe in Gort’s hands as he casually dug his claw deep into Neroz’s leg with a disturbing crunch and a scream of agony from Neroz.

“Yeah! I’z gunna kill ya wit’ yer own weapon. Now ain’t tha’ downright POETIC!” Gort yelled as he ran forwards hefting his battleaxe, intent on removing Hannibal’s smug head from his body.

Hannibal holstered his pistol and pulled out a small remote as he continued to tighten his claw’s grip, increasing the sound of snapping and agonizing screams. Hannibal waited a few more moments before smashing his thumb down on the remote, and Gort BadStomp’s charge abruptly faltered as his axe suddenly crackled to life as electricity arced from the long handle into Gort’s hands.

Spitting vile curses, Gort fell at Hannibal’s feet, stunned by the sudden shock, and as he began to lift himself off the ground Hannibal jerked his clawed hand out. With a loud crack and a sickening sucking sound, Hannibal’s tore out Neroz’s femur, leaving the warboss to fall to the ground in silent agony. Gort had enough time to look up at the horrific sight before Hannibal swung the femur up in a massive uppercut, a fistful of teeth and Gort’s unconscious body soared though the air before coming down hard onto the ground with a satisfactory thud. Hannibal released the femur, letting it unceremoniously clatter to the dirt as he turned to the wounded warboss. The two locked eyes with each other, and they both knew how this fight would end.

“ ‘Dis iz my tribe now, Neroz.”

Neroz spat back in reply, his last act of aggression. Hannibal sunk his claw deep into Neroz’s neck and closed it, severing his spine and ending Neroz’s reign for all eternity. As he shoved the colossal corpse down to the ground, Hannibal planted his foot on the body and looked to the crowd. Hundreds of eyes watched him in awe. He had won. He lifted his bloody claw in the air and let loose a mighty “WAAAGH!” The crowd followed suit, the chorus of their cries echoing though the forest.

The age of iron had begun.

Spoiler:
Rolled a critical success!


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/04/04 19:27:47


Post by: Sgt_Smudge


"Tsa'lan! New orders from Cadre Command!"

Tsa'lan sidled over to the comms device. Harland and Fio'tak were already there, their curved helms strapped at their side. The Shas'ui removed her own helm and squatted in front of the holo-projector. Shas'O Skyhunter faced them.

"New orders, commander?" she said.

Skyhunter faced her. "You've done a good job of getting thus far. The cadre thanks you for your efforts, but we're going to need a little more."

"You want to know where Nogrod is." Harland spoke. His human voice was far more blunt than any Tau could manage. Skyhunter nodded.

"Indeed. We're going to get this Beg'el bastard, but I won't lose more of the Cadre than I have to. I'm not asking for a lot, but I-"

"You want us to find him. You want us to go into the dark zone."
Tsa'lan shot a glance at Harland again. The Gue'vesa'ui was replying to his Shas'O's orders with a dangerous speed. And, maybe she heard it wrong, but a sort of aggression?

Skyhunter's voice was blank. "Correct again, Gue'vesa. And we were rather hoping you would lead the expeditionary team."

"Commander, you meant to say that we're not all going in?" Fio'tak queried. "Only Harland's unit?"

"Not quite. We want your team in there too, Fio'tak. Tsa'lan, you are to stay here and feed back data. Testing shows that some communications will be able to get through, but only to you, Shas'ui. You'll be in the dark, I'm afraid."

"Thank you for the warning, Commander." Harland growled.
Tsa'lan didn't know if Skyhunter had heard, but even if he had, there was no sign. The comm device shut off, and darkness engulfed the chamber. Harland stood up, and grabbed his pulse carbine from it's resting place. "Unit, prepare for insertion." Tsa'lan tried to get a look of the human's bearded face, but his helmet clamped over it before she could see.

------------------------------------------------------------------

"++Shas'ui, you're getting this?++"

"It's a little hazy, but I'm hearing you."
Tsa'lan had rigged up the comms device with her markerlight. The marker was penetrating the psychic shield, partially diffracting through the eldritch energy, but allowing a semi-stable comms passageway. Of course, this left her open in the hallway. The rest of her unit were lying prone a few feet down the corridor, waiting for a rogue ork party to creep down the hallway.

Harland's unit, and Fio'tak's drones were making good progress through the rest of the ruins. Past massive barracks, foul breeding and feeding pits, and fecund mines they crept. No sign of Nogrod at all. The smaller strike team had left them far more maneuverable, and so far, no ork party had crossed them. The closest they had got was when a prowling spider had peered down the passageway. Harland had dragged the lead Pathfinder with him into a side chamber, narrowly avoiding detection. Since then, nothing.

"++Fio'tak's scouting sensors seem to indicate we've covered most of these ruins.++"

"And of Nogrod?"

"++No sign of him. You're sure that he's here?++"

"He is. He has to be." Tsa'lan tried to keep the wavering discomfort from her voice. Something was not right here.
There was an awful silence between them. Tsa'lan could feel her heart beating, faster and faster. It dominated her hearing. If Harland replied, she wasn't sure she would even hear him. When the beating got to it's crescendo, she broke the silence.
"Harland? Talk to me?"

"++What is it? Is something the matter?++" His voice was dripping with concern, a blind naive question. Tsa'lan sighed in relief.

"No, comrade. But I don't think you should stay down there any longer. There can't be much more to explore. You've done a great job so-"
"++Just one more to go, Shas'ui. Fio'tak thinks that we missed an opening. He's sent his drones down to explore, but they seem to have got stuck. I've sent him with an escort of two of my Pathfinders to get them unstuck, and then we'll be out.++"

"But they're drones! Why do they matter?"

"++Don't let Fio'tak hear you say that!++" Harland laughed. "++Remember that time with the void-pirates when he-++"
"Harland! Get up here, now. I don't like this one bit."

He seemed taken aback, and concern edged into his voice once more. "++Gods above, what's gotten into you? Okay Tsa, I'll lead the rest of my unit back up right n- Something is wrong.++"
There was a fumbling of machinery as he changed his broadcast wavelength to visual, then to the visual of his Pathfinders.

Two figures could be seen in Shas'la Ror'saal's optics. Shas'la Doi'lak and Shas'ui Fio'tak. Fio'tak was moving ahead without any of the care of the two Pathfinder behind him, dragging them along as they tried to form a cohesive unit. Dio'lak was muttering angrily at Fio'tak, asking him to slow down, but the drone commander was having none of it. The three of them passed under an archway in the corridor. Cobwebs tugged and splayed across Ror'saal's optics, but he kept moving.

The strands gave way to light. They were in a circular arena, lined with mossy stone and thick white cobwebs. Reflected daylight seeped through cracks in the ceiling and walls. Fio'tak consulted his scanner as the two escort Pathfinders raised their pulse carbines and swept the cavern. Their markerlights were useless: heavy interference rendering them inert. This would be the heart of the psychic interference. A skittering pebble drew the aim of both Pathfinders. Above it, all of Fio'tak's drones were suspended, ensnared in the translucent fibres. Their engines battled against the webs, to no avail. More pebbles cracked off the floor behind the Pathfinders, and they looked up to behold the monstrosity behind them.

Easily fifteen foot in length, and bristling with hairs and leather armour, the gigantic spider dwarfed the Tau recon team. Ror'saal looked up at the creature, dangling from a web the thickness of a tree trunk. It's malign eyes flitted from Tau to Tau. If the beast knew them as anything, it would be Prey.
Across it's massive back, an ork hung, a muscled arm gripping the extended web. Spider husks were split open and used as armour plates, bound by spider silk threads. A totem pole extended from it's back. It was a massive spider's leg, long dead, and from it, all manner of tribal fetishes and shamanistic talismans dangled from it. From beneath a ramshackle pig iron helm, two beady eyes regarded the Tau with glee.

"Another little bug enters da lair of da great Nogrod!" The ork cackled, and the spider's jaws split open. A wad of sticky web vomited from the creature's maw, striking Ror'saal, and pinning him to the ground. The camera gazed up at the ceiling, watching more spiders scramble across the roof and begin to descend. The screams and howls of Fio'tak and Dio'lak clung to the sticky walls, before abruptly ceasing. The sound of skittering spiders was the only thing left, before a pair of mandibles clamped over the camera, and Ror'saal was gone.


Harland collapsed in the safety of the Tau recon base. His helmet clattered onto the floor. His pulse carbine was clutched desperately to his heaving chest. Tsa'lan walked over to him.
The surviving two Pathfinders had headed back out of the dark zone immediately, the death screams of their comrades ringing in their ears.
Harland's eyes were wet. Soft cries were muffled in his beard, and his head was hung low over his crouched body. Shas'ui Tsa'lan didn't know what to do. She stood there awkwardly for a few moments, watching the human descend into the abyss of sorrow.
Finally, she removed her helm, sat next to him, and put a slender arm around the Gue'vesa.

"It's over, Harland. We've got him." She whispered into his ear. His body stopped shaking.

"It's over."


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/04/05 08:21:20


Post by: Buttery Commissar


Liza's hair rippled as it crackled faintly with static electricity, her anger manifested in the purest form. This was not her first encounter with the filthy Orks, but her first attack witnessed during peacetime.
She assisted in coordinating the efforts to remove the slain Orks and respectfully remove the Imperials who had lost their lives. With sadness she noticed the great variety of forces who had taken a hit, including the guardsmen and Astartes warriors.
"This must not happen again," she murmured to Lord Captain Fairfax, "No more mass meetings on the planet if the governor cannot organise protection. This was foolish."
Edward nodded silently in agreement, his face pale from the small wound, contrasting his dark and blood stained uniform. His eyes flicking back and forth in concern and looking for signs of anything overlooked during the attack. He was wearing a face of calm, but had yet to lay eyes on Garth. Part of the rogue trader could not feel reassured until he knew for certain that the surly commissar was safe.
His heart sank as he came across the dead and wounded Histans, laid out on makeshift tables, and he stopped still, unable to continue, "Not again." his mind thousands of miles and half a decade away.
"Your men." Liza paused beside him.
"My friends," he spoke quietly, "they should not have even been here."
"We needed to all be here to understand this situation," the rough voice from his shoulder height contested, "everything happens for a reason, even the gak."
"Garth!" Edward jumped in surprise.
The commissar did not meet his eye, "It is up to us what their death means. Whether it is a tragedy; we leave and lick our wounds. Or of it is a rallying point; we stay and assist."

The trio stood in silence. Liza knowing better than to interject such contemplation, and the pair of traders lost in thought.
Eventually some breeze or some conclusion stirred them, and as one they looked up at one another.
"There is only one answer." Edward looked toward the casualties.
"This is not our fight." Liza nodded, her voice almost a whisper.
"N-no!" Edward jolted, "we are imperials, we help."
The Magos smiled sadly, "Then we are at cross purposes Lord Captain. My priority can only be that of Mars. Of knowledge; not of warfare. We will not ignore any threats we encounter, but I will not deviate from our set task, not without direct order."
The rogue trader was stunned, and beside him, his seneschal and commissar stood silent.
"Then we will honour our contract to you, Liza. But I wish that you reconsider in time." Edward gave a sad smile.
Garth stared hard into the distance, his jaw clenched and unmoving.
"We disappoint you." Liza sighed lightly.
"I can't say no, Liza. But it is your way, as responding is ours." the Lord captain replied gently.

*

Edward and Garth remained for several hours at the mansion to assist with casualties, before returning with the Histans to the Sovereign, agreeing to meet with Liza once the Explorators had established their site in the south of Crion.

"One favour, Magos," Garth murmured quietly as they parted ways, "there was another commissar here tonight. You and Alfie likely saw him in passing. I'd like you to find out his name. Discretion is the word, rather than speed."
Liza gave the barest of nods to the commissar, but at the mention of his name, the servo skull honed in on Garth and began circling him gently, awaiting in instruction.
"Shoo!" he laughed but he waved a hand tiredly, and the silver skull returned to its master.

*

"You're bleeding."
Edward turned his head as he sat on the end of his bed, changing his shirt.
Garth stepped over, a mixture of frustration and distress on his face, "You stupid bastard, you're bleeding."
The Lord captain looked down at his chest, somewhat unfocused, as blood ran down from his shoulder, "You'd be right."
"I'll fetch a servitor." the seneschal stood.
"No," Edward stopped him, "just get a needle. I hate those things... They don't blink."
Garth gave a grim laugh, "They don't answer back either. I thought you'd prefer that." he looked over to his captain and realised quite how pale and tired the man was looking. Rummaging in a cabinet, he located a sewing kit, pads and a small bottle of alcohol.
"You will have to get this looked at." he sat behind Edward and placed his hand on his uninjured shoulder to steady him.
"Mhm."
"You scared me, you know." Garth conceded as he began working neatly.
"I thought commissars don't know any fear." Edward inhaled sharply as Garth pulled tightly on the threads.
"We don't usually have anything to lose." the voice was just as gruff and surly as usual, but quieter.
Edward reached his hand backward and placed it onto the commissar's where it steadied his shoulder.

"Liza surprised me," Garth murmured, focused in his work, "I really thought she would help."
"She will." Edward replied firmly.
"But who?" the commissar replied darkly.
"What do you mean?"
He growled, "I've seen cogboys step past dying guardsmen and Astartes alike to reclaim technology. Now we are on a world where there's not only ancient technology but Xenos! Think what they would do to get their hands on a few pieces of exotic technology."
Edward shuddered involuntarily, causing Garth to curse as he stitched. The Lord captain exclaimed, "That would be heresy! Have you ever heard of mechanicus aiding Xenos or chaos?"
"I have, but never from anyone who stayed around for long. I'm not saying Liza is likely to sell us out. But I'm sure her people walk that line."


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/04/05 13:44:29


Post by: Sgt_Smudge


Sunstrike Cadre's command sat around the holo-projector. All of them were clad in bodysuits, dark grey in colour, save for Skyhunter. His battlesuit was slumped over at the far end of the room, deactivated, save for the life-support function. The Tau's tired eyes surveyed the men and women of his command cadre.

Sub-Commander Shadowbrand had returned, unscathed from her infiltration operation on the human delegation. Still, Skyhunter was worried about his Recon Commander. The incident with with the Space Marines who had performed surgery on her had enhanced her biology greatly, but Skyhunter was concerned about the emotional scarring of the event. Some nights, he swore he could hear her footsteps creeping outside his rest quarters. He meant to ask her about it, but it would have to wait.

Opposite her, her direct counterpart sat. Sub-Commander Vandred, the cadre's Frontline Commander. The human had risen well through the Tau ranks, far past most auxiliaries in the old Empire. The son of a human general who had chosen to join the Tau Empire, Vandred had learnt well from his parents and become a master of harnessing and riding the bloody tides of battle. His training had benefited the warriors of Sunstrike, teaching them how to fight in close drill, and drilling them in the art of melee combat. He would never pilot a Battlesuit, but he was more than capable of fending for himself.

Other commanders waited patiently for Skyhunter to begin. The Fleet Commander, Sub-Commander Darkspear, rocked from side to side as he waited. As the commander of the abnormally large aerial contingent the cadre boasted, he had a great deal of power and influence amongst the cadre command. Of course, he would rather be following orders and relaying them faultlessly to his flight squadrons. Skyhunter had been very hesitant about Darkspear. The two had been very close, with the two commanders working their aerial tactics flawlessly in tandem under Aun'Chi's demand. But where Skyhunter had been suspicious of the Ethereal cadre, Darkspear had followed them without question. The Shas'O had been worried about a mutiny from his pilot cadre, but so far, nothing had happened. Thank the ancestors.

Darkspear's impatience was mirrored in Sub-Commander Mirrorstone. Where Darkspear was slender and swaying like a willow tree, the Territory Commander was grounded, rooted to the floor. She had once been Earth Caste, but that was before Sunstrike independence. The cadres had been integrated, forming new bonds between divided cadres. Now, she commanded the sieges and defensive actions of the cadre. Strategy books lined the Sub-Commander's walls, typed by the greatest Tau siege masters. There wasn't a huge amount to go off. Instead, she nearly constantly simulated battles in her quarters, or around the base. Vandred was more than happy to work alongside the engineer. More training for the infantry, he had said proudly. Skyhunter understood her fervent obsession with tactics. Mirrorstone had never seen combat with her own eyes, and the council chamber was an alien sight to the Tau. Skyhunter had faith she would adapt and be moulded into the command structure. She would have to.

The Shas'O took a deep breath and started the meeting. He skipped the formalities.
"Shas'El Shadowbrand, tell us about where we are. What kind of forces are present here?"

The Recon Commander stood up, her small frame dwarfed by the giant holographic map of the planet. Two smaller orbs, the moons, circled it. Two thin spires, about the thickness of a piece of string, jutted out of the planet and stretched to the two moons. The hologram slowly rotated as Shadowbrand analysed it.

"The planet we have descended on is known as Crion, in the human tongue. Our particular province is called Kalhoon, part of the Indo-Cambrian continent. It is an agricultural world, ruled by a Governor Payne. It seems that this world is rather important to the Imperium. Five Adeptus Astartes taskforces are present, alongside a Knight Household, a contingent of Adeptus Mechanicus, a Rogue Trader, and a regiment of Storm Troopers. Alongside the existing Crionian forces, of course. An Inquisitor's warband is present too, acting outside of the chain of command. In fact, all forces seem disjointed, lacking a centralised command figure. Certain figures seem more important than others, such as the Inquisitor, but gauging Imperial response would be impossible."

"Your verdict, Sub-Commander?"

"We avoid them. Too much risk to the cadre. Even if we mean them no harm, there will always be humans who disagree with our existence." She cast an apologetic look toward Vandred. "Present company excepted, Gue'Vesa'El."

"That's fine, Shadowbrand." He replied. "Why are the Imperials here? What are they after?"

"There seems to be multiple insurrections around the system. The one we have encountered is multiple feral Beg'el warbands. One such assaulted the palace with great force. I suggest we also evade these greenskins."

"Sub-Commander, we have settled down in this location." Mirrorstone spoke. "Do you expect us to abandon it at the first sign of trouble?"

"That's another issue, Fio'El," Skyhunter said. "Please, Shas'El, continue."

"There are reports of Eldar forces on Crion. Their location is, as of yet, unconfirmed and unknown, but the Imperials seems to have great hatred towards them. More threats come from the second moon, Luna Epsilon, where renegade humans prepare an assault." She swallowed back her painful memories. "And a rebel faction known as the Tillers march on the governor's palace. I doubt they would be reciprocal of our support."

"Indeed." Skyhunter muttered. "Vandred, our planned assault on Nogrod. What have you in mind?"

Vandred brushed his dark beard. "Our forces are ready. They await your command, as normal. If Sub-Commander Darkspear would condone it, I would suggest that we use firebomb munitions in clearing the tunnels, sapping and blowing open a direct aerial entrance into the psychic shield, and rappelling our forces in systematically. Nogrod would have nowhere to run."

"Good. I will meditate about this." Skyhunter turned to Darkspear. "And you, Kor'El. You said you had picked something up on our scanners?"

"Aye, Shas'O." The skinny pilot blurted out. "Patrolling Razorshark Fighters picked up an anomaly in the southern ice cap. Of course, there were strong storms and squalls at the time, and we're not sure if the signal was genuine, or simply a lightning strike. I've outfitted a wing of Orcas with thermal-insulative intakes, if you wanted to send an expedition?"

Skyhunter pondered on it. Vandred rose to his feet. "Shas'O, if I may? I would volunteer myself for this. Give me two Fire Warrior squads and a unit of Pathfinders, and I'll investigate this anomaly myself." His black eyes hung patiently on Skyhunter. Skyhunter's own amber ones met them.

"Understood, Gue'vesa'El. Choose a mix of troops, experienced and rookies. I want this done in ten Rotaa. Then we will begin the assault on Nogrod. Do you understand, friend?"

"Yes, Commander."


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/04/06 02:14:22


Post by: TheEyeOfNight



Is it at an end?

His bones ached, a dull scream of agony that sounded every day. It was the song of a million deaths in a thousand battles on a hundred worlds.

It never ends.

The voice was a thunderclap, terrifying in its enormity and intensity at once. It was tinted not with anger, but with absolute command. Lazarus knew to whom it belonged, but he dared not open his dream-self's eyes to look.

I never asked for this.

You did. When you shouted to the dark ones, when you flew into battle with naught but tooth and nail in their name, you asked for this. You asked for glory, and it is given to you.

It was truth, and Lazarus knew it. When he was younger, stronger, he had offered hundreds of lives for the attention of his masters. But now that he had lived for so long with their eyes on him, he sorely wished he could fade into obscurity again. He shivered, not from cold but from an aged dread, long-faded into his soul.

Can I not rest?

It was a hopeless plea, with neither confidence nor real vigor behind it. The voice took a long time to respond. It was not harsh, there was no rebuke within its words. But neither was there mercy.

No.



The procession reached the gates of Hive Cogger: an enormous mass of humanity, clad in rags and bearing whatever meager possessions they could carry.

In a sense, they resembled the flood of refugees which had fled the Hive not long ago, but this crowd did not smell of fear. They were livid, loud, and ready to lash out against those they saw as their oppressors. By threes and fours they had made their way to the space elevator, by dozens they had journeyed to the home of their savior, and now, by the hundreds, they stood outside and chanted loyalty to Lazarus and his gods.

They would be fine replacement for the forces they had lost against the greenskins.

* * * *

From the pitted and cracked walls of the Hive, Mordecai and Jael watched them filter in, shouting and cheering as if the beleaguered and bloody Hive was their saving grace. Mordecai's mask sat on the ridge next to him, cracked and still red with his bloody spittle. He hadn't the heart to wear it, not while Father lay wounded in the Spire. The mask had been a gift, a token from Lazarus when Mordecai took up his role as shield-bearer. Lazarus had claimed it was from the same forges as the Flayed Legion's bone-white helmets, and while Mordecai was almost certain that was a lie, he didn't care. It was a gift from Father, and that was enough.

To his left, Jael sat on the wall, her back to the immigrant crowd, and idly tugged at the petals of a pale yellow flower in her hands. She had also been quieter since the Maw, and Mordecai was unsure if it was out of respect, fear, or confusion that she didn't try to make some manner of power play.

"That's...that's a lot of them." He muttered for the fourth time, resting his hand idly on the mask.

Jael shook her head, not at the statement, but at his needless repetition of it. "From Hive Torcan, I hear. The city's falling apart from the inside out." She flicked a shredded petal over her shoulder, emanating apathy and impatience as her own mask, refusing to give away her state of mind. She was a noblewoman, had married into it, and beyond the simple weapons drills the Brotherhood had given her, she had never dreamed of fighting. Coming face-to-face with screaming greenskin madness had shaken her far deeper than she would ever admit.

She closed her eyes violently at the sudden memory, clenching her hands and crushing the flower as she recalled slamming the stone block on the alien's head. Bile rose in her throat, but she swallowed it valiantly, hoping that Mordecai hadn't noticed. She blinked away the emotion, settling her mask back into place, and nonchalantly tossed the mangled flower off the wall.

"We won't be far behind if we stay here." She looked out, past the crowds, towards the immense orb of Crion hanging in the sky. "There are too many forces arrayed out there for us to sit here and wait for news of the Amaranth. We need friends to shield us, and enemies to trample."

"Father would not agree." The young rebel shook his head as he turned away from the crowd, picking up his mask and reaching down to grasp the battered shield from its place on the stonework.

"No." Jael allowed herself a condescending smile, which she made sure he caught a glimpse of, before rising and strutting away with far more confidence than she felt. "He's not agreeing to much right now."




The blue eye lit up, slowly at first, but with a gathering intensity, until it illuminated the Governor's bedchamer with a ghostly glow. The air grew still, as if Hive Cogger held its collective breath in anticipation. The body on the bed, for so long limited to one ragged breath every dangerous few seconds, began to twitch and gasp for air. Four rebels, seated in an honor guard, backed away slowly, their eyes wide in anticipation and zealous joy.

Lazarus opened his good eye, staring up at the ceiling above, and knew what he to do.


Spoiler:
Just plot-pushing for now, next move is percolating within my brain. More crazy to come soon.

Also, as fun background: the original tabletop-Lazarus earned his name by killing an IG command squad in a charge, then rolling Eternal Warrior on the boon table. Not much point for a 1-wound model, but the fluff possibilities are very entertaining


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/04/06 03:00:56


Post by: Tactical_Spam


Where is it? Must find it! It must be here. It is here...

* * *

An adamantium gauntlet dusted off a soot covered command console. It had been five years since life had touched the abandon corpse of the "Grand Exorcist." Or had it been five hundred years? Time was not relative to the denizens of the Warp. The gauntlet prodded cautiously at the control to determine if the vessel still had, if by some damned mechanism, life. A light on the console flickered for a moment before the bridge lit up in spectacular fashion. Static creaked over the vox relay.

"I can assume the ship is operational, Zehk?" the vox croaked, cutting in and out before dying for several moments. The gauntlet lifted the receiver and spoke once he heard the static return.

"Operational would be a very optimistic look. The Grand Exorcist is operating at 27% efficiency," an Astartes groaned back impatiently, flexing his free hand.

"Complete our task, Zehk, before you are lost to the voices."

"I am in control of the voices, Orelius."

"Complete our task-" the vox wheezed and then promptly died. Zehk broke the device in his fist and cursed repeatedly. He turned his head. Behind him were a rag tag bunch of Astartes and human, equipped in void suits and covered in varying degrees of carapace, flak or power armour. All were remnants of the New Order and and all were still loyal to their cause and to whatever hell it dragged them into. Zehk bullied his way past them and made his way down the corridors. From the auspex aboard Orelius' ship, the "Dreadful Wail" it was noted most of the halls were caved in. Battle damage from the New Order's Flagship "Warpath Furnace" had snapped the perverbial neck of the "Grand Exorcist." Many corpses, both human and Astartes were strewn about, held adrift in midair due to the inactive artificial gravity generators. Even with a majority of the ship missing, Zehk knew the "Grand Exorcist" like the inner workings of his boltgun. Zehk knew all the ships of the New Order fleet. He had to know. It was his duty. Zehk, as well as his brother, Orelius, were the Honour Guards of Taihkromn Ryus, Chapter Master of the New Order. They had failed in protecting their Chapter Master. He was on the "Grand Exorcist" some five years ago or some five hundred. Time was irrelevant in the warp. It was ironic that, after the killing blow from the "Warpath Furnace," the "Grand Exorcist" met its end fighting of daemons. The signs of these struggles were evident as Zehk traversed the halls and left his comrades to loot and pillage the dead. Corruption was everywhere. It spoke to him and he spoke back. One voice among the twisting corridors and haunted, abandoned rooms stood out over the others. It reached for him. It was always at the back of his mind, probing, searching, hiding.

Zehk...

It knew his name. Zehk checked his surroundings abruptly. He knew not of where he was, nor if he was still aboard the "Grand Exorcist." He was amidst ruins. Ruins of a Librarium. It struck him, after a few seconds, that it was Chapter Master Ryus' Librarium.

The book, Zehk...

Zehk's eyes were drawn towards a pile of books that had fallen from their shelf. One book seemed to call out to him, beckon him. He moved towards the pile. He stumbled on something, a body, an Astartes. It wore a skull helmet much like the Judges did. It was a Judge. Zehk looked around and discovered the floor was littered with the bodies of fallen Judges and Jurers, the guardians of the Judges. Horror sank into Zehk and he began to step back, only to fall over the leg of the Executioner, a once nigh-immortal Brother-Contemptor. For the first time since his indoctrination, fear dripped like venom into Zehk's veins and he froze, like a cornered animal.

They were weak, Zehk. You are strong...

Zehk blinked and gasped for air. He was suffocating.

Let me in, Zehk. Become stronger than the others

Zehk gripped his throat. He felt himself saying a name he never saw before. Never heard before. It burned his esophagus. It felt like acid in his chest.

Thank you, Zehk...

Zehk spasmed as he was wracked by an insufferable pain that engulfed his whole body and every inch of his soul. A darkness grew inside him like a weed. It embraced him even as his body rejected it. He grew cold. His joints refused to move. He felt his hearts stop beating and Zehk died.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/04/07 10:16:18


Post by: Sgt_Smudge


The white winds buffeted the shoal of Orcas as they swam through the snow clouds. Their hulls passed unseen through the thick, driving snow, casting no shadow on the unsullied ground below. Nothing saw them gradually land onto the surface of Crion's southern pole, and the thirty or so Tau infantry pile out. Their sleek combat armour was slickened by the melting snow, and drips of water fell from the angular, alien plates, before freezing as it hit the ground. Gue'vesa'El Vandred pulled his fur-lined cloak around him and felt the ice crunch beneath his boot. His hoarse voice muffled into his mouthpiece.

"Shas'vre Holliday, do we have the signal?" His adjutant glanced down at the scanning device. Green lights flickered through the driving snow. She nodded in the affirmative. "Good. Sunstrike, spread out and form three-man cohesive teams. One Pathfinder per two Fire Warriors." His troops separated without a word, their crunching footsteps heralding the start of the search operation.

The signal picked up by the Air caste patrol arrays had been accurate, at least. Something was down here, in the snow, and the Tau would find it. Vandred had no idea what he would find. A crashed lander, perhaps. Ork patrols. Worse.
Part of the Sub-Commander hoped it was Imperials. Truth was, he'd never really interacted with a human from outside the cadre. Save from gunning underpowered mercenary forces down as part of Sunstrike Cadre, he had never seen true Imperials fight. Once, he would have killed them like anything else. Now, without Aun'Chi, he might actually speak with one. Were they all technophobic savages? How could they possibly have been so xenophobic and rejected the safety of the nascent Tau Empire. The idea of such a massive and crippled Imperium filled a young Vandred with awe and wonder. It only inspired frustration and anger in the Sub-Commander.

"++'Vesa'El! We've found something. Crashed Imperial wreckage. Recent.++"
Vandred's pace quickened, and he hastened to Team 12's discovery. The rest of the unit pulled in too, encircling the objective. Vandred planted his pulse rifle into the ice and examined the wreckage himself. It was Imperial, an Aquila lander. It had ploughed into the ice, cracking the surface of the earth and lodging the bulk of the lander in the earth. Scorch marks patterned past a ruptured fuel canister, and the interior was barren. Broken monitors and sparking cables greeted Vandred. So much for Imperial presence. His dark eyes fell upon the distress beacon, failing and faulty, but it had served. Vandred examined it. A cog-wheel skull emblazoned on it leered at him. The sigil of the Mechanicus.

The only thing unexplored was the pilot's cabin. His gauntlet closed around the handle, and he tried the lock. It squealed against the ice, seizing up it's hinges. Unsheathing his bonding knife, Vandred shattered the ice, raining shimmering crystals over him. He yanked at the door. It swung open, and the barrel of a gun met his startled face.
BANG
The trap triggered, and a shotgun blast slammed into his torso, blasting him out of the Aquila lander. His body smashed onto the ice, as the blast echoed around the icy plains. As his men rushed over to him, Vandred gingerly touched his chest. The shotgun blast might have been fatal to a man in flak armour, but Tau armour was far more effective. The frontal plate had been ruined, but Vandred was unharmed. Holliday pulled him up.
"What is it, sir?"

"A trap."

The roar of the shotgun was answered by a feral howl. The entire cadre raised their rifles and dropped to a firing position. Orks.
The first of the greenskins charged out of the snowy winds, clad in thermal gear and frost camouflage. His body fell to the groud riddled with pulse rifle rounds. Another ork followed him, emerging dangerously close to the cadre before being put down. Dozens more of the hulking silhouettes grew in the thick snow. Black, oily contrails streaked through the air, and rokkits began falling near the Tau lines. Vandred grabbed his pulse rifle, and shouted to his unit.
"There's too many! Pull back to the dropships at once!"

The Tau rose from their firing positions and began to move backwards. Their fire never ceased, mowing down any of the feral orks that got too close. Their corpses lay strewn on the ice, their blood spilling out from under their misshapen cadavers. Every so often, a band of orks would charge together, butchering another fireteam as it tried to withdraw. Vandred slaughtered them all. The last thing they expected were for Tau to retaliate in melee. Yet every time a fireteam was hacked to pieces, the rest of the cadre turn on the greenskins and shanked them, severing tendons and throats. The blood of dead and dying Tau streaked the escape route all the way back to the waiting Orcas. Vandred hauled the last of the Tau wounded on his Dropship, and yelled at the pilot to take off. A killing zone of orks had been set up, forming rings around where the Orcas had been. When the three aircraft took off, the kill zones were flooded, swarming with angry, wretched orks. They would be coming back for them, Vandred swore.

Vandred sighed as his compiled his voice recording for Cadre Command.
"Recon expedition #005 classed as a major defeat.
No sign of life, save for technologically adept orks. Crashed Imperial 'Aquila' class lander, affiliated to the Adeptus Mechanicus caste of the Imperium found. Expedition casualties of 31%, of which 26% are fatalities. All bodies have been recovered, and we are making our way back now.
Gue'vesa'El Vandred, signing off."


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/04/08 04:51:32


Post by: chazz huggins


Prisoner 3434 sat at the camp fire watching the caste iron pot that hung above the weak flames. An olive drab canopy torn with holes kept the rain off him and his fire. 34 as his fellow convicts knew him attempted to scratch the dry skin under his explosive collar, a risky move but the itch had become intolerable. 1597 approached the fire and took a seat in the semi dry dirt next to 34. 1597 was a long haired man and wore a full beard, his weathered orange jump suit had its sleeves removed revealing a tattoo that marked him as a Faustian. His black boots were dull, his pants drawn over the grox leather. 1597 groaned as he reached the ground. 1597 lifted the pot and took in whiff and spoke in a grizzled voice “Smells like piss and onions.” 34 laughed as he used his rusted bayonet to whittle a piece of wood “Your losing you sense of smell its piss and cabbage.” 1597 spat “Ugh cabbage, can’t stand that gak.”

It was not long after that Arbitrator Halouk came stomping towards their tent. His eyes hidden beneath his helmet’s visor, black tactical gear hung about his chest, and a stun baton clutched in his grip. The law man was an agent of Warden Hoffman. The officer kicked over the prisoners’ pot of stew, they knew better than to protest. The arbitrator began to bark, “listen up convicts we are moving out, pack up camp we mobilize in nineteen hours, Inquisitor’s orders.” The penal legionaries rose to their feet and saluted, as Halouk moved on to tell the next group of convicts. 1597 whispered as the guard went long out of ear shot “Ass Helmet”

Inquisitor Garrett Randall stood at the war table with his usual retinue around him with the exception of Justicar Freeman. Brother Freeman’s wounds were healing well and the justicar was conscious. But at the insistence of Apothecary Myrmidon and the order of Captain Athenar Freeman had been confined to rest, as such a wound would have killed a normal man three times over. Randall spoke “While the banquet did not go as planned we did get the information we needed.” Randall pulled up map of Luna Epsilon and spoke “Heretics have taken root on this moon. It is our number one priority to see this swine destroyed before they can spread to Crion.” Commissar Alenko spoke out “We will need to establish a foot hold sir.” Randall spoke “Yes, there is a PDF out post on the island of Gin, we will commandeer it as our base of operation, the same with the men stationed there.” Warden Hoffman spoke “Lord Governor Payne agreed to this.” Captain Athenar replied “The Governor’s consent is irrelevant.” Hoffman smiled “Suppose it is.” Randall pointed to another dot on the map Hive Cogger. “Our investigation will begin here, it is unlikely that any truly loyal citizens remain, as such this will be a purging operation.” Paladin Utilitarius spoke “Inquistor we have reports that some refugees may have escaped Cogger Hive, they may be corrupted.” Randall felt the burden of his next words, “We will heavily monitor them, Captain Kid I task your men with this duty, should any of the Hivers prove to be impure, you know what to do.” Kid pounded her fists to her chest “Aye my Lord I have several men who can easily pass for Crionian natives, they know how to conduct the tests.” Utilitarius raised his voice “Inquisitor why take these risks, if there is even the slightest chance they have fallen to heresy we must act now before they can spread their taint.” Randall spoke to Utilitarius with his most stern face “Thank you Paladin your concern is noted.” Utilitarius looked over Captain Athenar “Brother tell him.” Athenar spoke much more level headed than the angered Paladin “Inquisitor Randall has the right to take action as he sees fit. Though I must say I do agree it would be safer to purge them now rather than take time to conduct the trials.” Randall took in a breath “I assure you should a single man fail the trials of purity, every one of these refugees will be dealt with, but I can not damn these men until I am certain.” Captain Athenar spoke “Very well Inquisitor, though I must insist that Brother Freeman aid in conducting the trials.” Randall nodded “Agreed his psychic skills would prove invaluable, as will his devotion to the Emperor.” Athenar nodded. Randall spoke “Make ready I do not know what awaits us in Cogger hive, but we will bring the Emperor’s light to the darkness.” Commissar Alenko raised his saber and shouted “For the Emperor, and For the Inquisition.” The rest in the room rallied behind the call “For the Inquisition.”


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/04/08 20:31:54


Post by: Sgt_Smudge


Sunstrike Cadre was going to war.

Shoals of Sun Sharks, Orcas, Barracudas and Razorsharks dove towards the Blood Dragon ruins. Escorted by the smaller craft, the Manta 'Solar Vengeance' blotted out the sun as it waded through the air. They smelled blood in the water, descending like predators onto Nogrod's headquarters. Beacons pre-established by Shas'vre Ghostwalk and guided by Shas'ui's Harland and Tsa'lan marked structural defects in the ork tunnels. The Sun Sharks were merciless, bombing the weak points with irresistible force. Specially designed drone warheads had been retrofitted to the bombs, allowing the bombs to detonate at maximum effectiveness within the earth. Orks were crushed in the seeming-safety of their warrens, their weapons of war and breeding pits flattened by metres upon metres of rubble.

Orcas descended into the smouldering pit, disgorging Breacher teams into the landing zone. Harland and Tsa'lan greeted the vanguard contingent, meeting Gue'vesa'El Vandred as he emerged from his Orca. The human general congratulated the two Pathfinder teams, and dispersed his troopers into the dark zone. Soon, the sound of pulse rifle and pulse blaster fire reverberated through the dank tunnels.

The assault was underway.

-----------------------------------

"Forward! Push them back!" Sub-Commander Vandred yelled. Primitive arrows and spears flew towards the Fire Warriors, glancing off of the rough-hewn walls. The orks were being mown down as they tried to charge through the tunnels, the tight confines allowing the well-drilled Strike and Breacher teams to fire indiscriminately. The Tau casualties had been low, and Sunstrike Cadre was nearly at their destination: Nogrod's lair.

Suddenly, a blocked off side door exploded in a hail of splinters. The Tau advance halted, and readied into a firing position. A clade of Be'gel elites, straddling fierce spiders, hulking and clad in scraps of metal armour, lumbered into the walkway. Huge shields of reinforced steel, daubed in blue and black glyphs, hung by their sides, alongside savage mauls and choppas. Nogrod's elite Nobs.

Vandred pulled out his power sword. It was an Imperial relic, passed on from his father to him - Vandred only used it in the most dangerous of situations. Faced with an ork charge, this was one of them.
"Prepare for combat! Pistols ready!"
The men at his back unholstered their pulse pistols, and readied their bonding knives. Some bolts struck true, slowing the ork advance.
Then they hit.

The first few ranks of Tau were smashed aside, their combat armour cracked and broken by the Nob's incredible strength. The Tau began their counterattack, stabbing and slicing with surprising accuracy. Vandred hacked into one, ripping one's throat from it's neck. It gargled, then collapsed onto it's mount. The spider reared up, launching at Vandred. He ducked away, and the edge of his power sword raked through it's hide. It shuddered, and died. Another blow caught Vandred in the side, knocking him to the ground. He looked up, blood on his teeth. An ork nob toting a heavy warhammer and bereft of it's mount stride towards Vandred. A Fire Warrior moved to assault the ork, but a whack from the ork's hammer sent him sprawling. Vandred reached in vain for his discarded power sword. The nob's steel shod boots kicked it clear, and Vandred felt the ork's talons around his throat. It's massive jaw swung open, revealing a mass of bloodstained teeth. Before the human could say any defiant last words, it's mouth began to close over his head.

There was a flash of heat, and the ork's head burst into a cloud of ash and molten flesh. Vandred's helmet absorbed the worst of the heat, and he fell back, the ork's grip abating around his neck. The nob crumpled on the bloody stone floor, it's head burned and shredded. Dazed, the Sub-Commander looked over to where the shot had come from. Stood down the hallway, dominating the scene, a trio of Crisis Suits advanced. At their head, an XV89 class suit lowered a pair of smouldering fusion rifles. The marking on the suit were instantly recognisable as it bounded down the hallway, past Vandred. The fusion rifles split, forming a pair of incandescent fusion blades. The ork nobs, revelling in the close fight the Tau were giving them, failed to notice the Battlesuit. Unitil it was far too late. Their smouldering corpses fell to the floor, and the suit stood at the head of the advancing Tau forces. Vandred rose to his feet, and raised his power sword high.
"Forward! Support the Shas'O!"

-----------------------------------

Nogrod's spider was up ahead. Skyhunter's elite cadre of Crisis suits were baiting the shaman, sending it's spider mount into a frenzy whilst the rest of the Fire Warriors gunned down the hordes of spiders and orks that were trying to aid their liege. Skyhunter was holding a side tunnel off by himself, reducing the myriads of attackers to molten slurry with his twin fusion rifles. A warning light flickered up on his HUD. One of his Crisis suits had been blasted by a warpfire bolt from Nogrod. The team fell apart, losing their co-ordination. The spider mount, now seeing true targets, began to lash out with fang and web. It's eight eyes locked onto Skyhunter, and it gambolled towards him.
Good, Skyhunter thought.

He overcharged his fusion rifles, sealing the mouth of the tunnel, and engaged his jet pack. His suit shot out of the way, evading right. The arachnid smashed into the wall, narrowly missing Skyhunter. It swung a thick limb at him, trying to knock the commander down. Skyhunter caught the limb, and broke it over his suit. The spider squealed, and thrust itself onto Skyhunter. The Crisis commander jumped up, hovered, and landed on the monstrosity's back. Nogrod jabbed at the Shas'O, piercing into his iridium suit with a lucky blow, but missing the pilot. Skyhunter looked down at his HUD as he tried to wrench the staff out of him.
Fusion blades, 67% ready, a flashing light told him.
Nogrod made another strike, glancing off of Skyhunter's raised gauntlet. The battlesuit batted away the staff, and aimed a savage kick at Nogrod. The ork's outstretched palm swirled with eldritch power, and a bright blue blast wave forced Skyhunter away, and tumbled him off the back of his mount. His feet digging into the earth, Skyhunter looked up to see the titanic beast bearing down on him.
Fusion blades, 98% ready.
Skyhunter stood up, hunkered down to receive the charge. His mind-impusle unit was already triggering the fusion blades. The gun casing began to slide back, exposing the volatile reactor core. The spider was a few feet from him now. It opened it's jaws to strike.
Fusion blades, 100% ready
Twin lances of pure fusion energy tore open the creature's jaw, splitting it's arachnid head clean open. The two halves of the spider collapsed around Skyhunter, and Nogrod leapt off, plunging his staff down at Skyhunter. A bestial warcry was on his lips, eyes wide in vengeance. He was midair when Skyhunter fired his fusion blasters. Nogrod was pinned by incandescent beams of heat, torn apart and roasted alive as he fell. His smoking corpse splattered at Skyhunter's feet, still clutching a blackened staff. The ork warband, as if they could somehow feel their leader's death, turned tail and broke, fighting amongst themselves to make off with the good loot. Skyhunter watched as his Fire Warriors pursued the greenskins, laying down floods of pulse fire at the tempo of Vandred's bellowed orders. The sound of bombers from up above began to echo through the caves. The orks were surrounded. So they fought.

They didn't stand a chance.

-----------------------------------

Skyhunter and Mirrorstone's orderlies were rummaging through the old Shaman's loot cache. Many things that the ork had accumulated had no purpose to the cadre, but Mirrorstone demanded to keep it, and passed it to an orderly, who dumped it in a cargo net carried by a drone attendant. So far, it was full of ores, metals, skulls, eggs, and various other items. Skyhunter swept aside a pile of debris, causing Mirrorstone to tisk. Underneath, the sigil of the Blood Dragons Chapter met his optical sensors. Ancient relics, tomes of war and battle, sat covered in dust. Most of the Chapter's weaponry had been cannibalised and lost to the orks, but a few pieces stood out. Namely, a massive power axe. Skyhunter took it up in his hands, and gave an experimental swing. It had good weight, easy to lift in his XV89 Battlesuit. Mirrorstone strode over and examined the weapon.

"I've seen these before. It's a Dreadnought weapon, mounted onto Space Marine battlesuit equivalents. I'm sorry, Shas'O, but the power coupling wouldn't adapt, I don't think it's-"
A raised hand halted her, mid sentence.

Skyhunter planted the haft of the axe into the ground. His voice had a dark humour to it.
"Then make it fit, Fio'El."


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/04/08 22:03:42


Post by: EvergreenArcher


[Pike-Ard, Crion]
Revenge
The hive was ready. KoreGog had stood for far too long. His forces had harmed the hive, and he shall be consumed in return. The lictor, now known to the hive as the Leaping Terror, was dispatched to take him out. His reign was about to be put to an end.

[Jorgan, Crion]

The Leaping Terror silently stepped out of the bushes. It now stood at the edge of tree line outside the fort of KoreGog da Bloody. The night was dark and it would never be seen.
Infiltrate Eliminate
The fort had sentries posted all around it. Fires were everywhere to light the way, since the night was dark and it was pitch black. It only aided the hive. The lictor easily slipped past the sentries without an issue thanks to its special adaptations. It now just had to find KoreGog. The Leaping Terror searched everywhere but the place was very unorganized and confusing. It looked hopeless until it stumbled upon a drunk ork. It was however, more like the ork stumbled upon the lictor. The moment the lictor noticed the greenskin coming, it had stepped into the darkness surrounding a wall. The camouflage all lictors had began to do its job. The lictor was now one with the wall. The drunk ork began to wobble past before tripping and falling to the ground like the pathetic biomass it was. It was only when he talked to himself that he became useful.

“Dat wuz some party d-d-da b-boss wuz throwin in the mess hall. I c-can’t wait ta get back in there after sentry d-duty.”
“Get off da ground ya lazy grot! Ya got work ta do ya git!” A nearby nob shouted to the drunk ork. He attempted to get up and hobble to his post, but he was no longer useful. Time to go kill a leader of an army.

The lictor peered through a hole high up on the roof of the mess hall. Inside, the orks were cheering and having a merry time.

“Ta da boss! He gotz us a propa fight!” One nob said.
“Ta da boss!” The assembled greenskin mass said.
“I like da work dat has been done ‘ere taday. You lot ‘ave earned dis fungus vodka! Drink up an’ letz get ready ta clobber some more gitz!” KoreGog da Bloody replied to this. With this, the crowd descended into a song while swigging on their drinks.
“Weez are orks and we kill dem all!
Orks, orks, orks!
Weez krush an’ maim an’ kill an’ burn!
Orks, orks, orks!
None can stop da waaaagh of orks!
Orks, orks, orks!
Fear our might or face your death!
Orks, orks, ORKS!
Weez are greenskinz an’ you are DEAD!
ORKS, ORKS, ORKS!”

“Time ta loot! Time ta kill!
Time ta see ya innards spill!
I’m am da ork an’ you da git!
I a chop an’ you a split!
Time fa you ta face my mitts!
You ‘ill miss and I ‘ill hit!”

More and more singing and chanting. It went on and on. All the while, the orks getting more and more drunk. Patience is key. The more the lictor waited, the better its chances were. It was at this moment that KoreGog got up to leave. The lictor readily awaited his passage. KoreGog stepped out of the building. He stumbled a few steps out and took a deep breath. His last breath. The Leaping Terror, rightfully earning its name, plunged down upon the very surprised, and very drunk warboss. He did not even have time to turn around before the scything talons had pierced straight through the back of his neck. No words were uttered. No cry for help. KoreGog da Bloody had been slain.
Make him suffer
The lictor responded. It beat its body up over and over. Cutting and stabbing and wasting biomass. The hive did not care. KoreGog had angered the brood. It was the wrong thing to do. This same punishment would be done upon any and all that disrupt the consumption off the planet. No resistance or fear the wrath of the swarm. In the end, the warboss was still mostly intact as he was so big. He just had many more cuts on his body than necessary. The noise of this had attracted unwanted attention. The footsteps of all the orks in the mess hall were heard. It was time to leave. The lictor slinked into the shadows. No greenskin discovered the lictor as it made its escape.
A massive blow had been dealt to the greenskins. More biomass would be gotten easily because of this.
Long live the hive

Spoiler:
So I assassinated the leader of the nearby ork klan with a major victory and I named my lictor.



Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/04/08 23:42:36


Post by: 2BlackJack1


"They took one of ours. It is time for us to take one of theirs." Meenos remembered Ta'lok's words. "Meenos, Seri, Voshia, I need you to go back to Kampf's Anchorage. Edgar still breathes, and is now hidden. His men are not so fortunate, and know where his rat den lies. Find them."

Their hunt had taken the trio to the slums of 'Rat Town' to find Jebediah Godwill, the left hand man of Edgar. Filled with thieves, crooks, and smugglers, it was no surprise to Seri that these dregs of society would be more willing to listen to the rebel's honeyed words. The man would be hosting his own rally here, and it was the Kroot's intent to get him before he could. From what the trio had gathered, he had chose to use the rundown arbites facility to host the meeting, as any of the law enforcement units had either joined their rebellion, or were stationed elsewhere in the region, and the man was already inside the building, making final preparations before he gave his speech.

Moving quickly, the trio slit the throats of two guards, and slipped into the facility after hiding the corpses. "Godwill will be using the lead officer's desk room as his own." Meenos whispered.

"Prey always will hide, he is no different, I hope he feels safe where his den is. It makes the finding so much more entertaining" Seri spat. Voshia stayed quiet, a sense of determination filling her. Meenos signalled the group to move ahead, and he scanned ahead as he moved. The room, while large, was vacant excluding themselves, and any decoration and furniture had been in ill repair for far too long. Cobwebs covered lights, and dust covered seats. Ahead was a small hallway, and a sign gave directions to a number of rooms, including Godwill's.

Meenos froze in place, and hissed for his partners to hide before leaping behind a long forgotten sofa. The others barely had time to find their own places to hide when several men entered the room. From Meenos' position, he counted six pairs of feet. The Kroot kept his knife close to his chest but was ready to attack on the slightest sign of being discovered.

Meenos heard several clicks before someone exhaled. He cringed at the sudden bitter smell, and knew that one of them was smoking. Shortly after, he heard a faint smack, and saw a small, smoking object hit the ground. "No smoking in here, civilian. You're lucky that we're letting you in here anyway, family relations or not." One man grumbled, his voice a gravelly growl. The man sighed, and Meenos saw him stoop down to grab the lho-stick, and the Kroot moved backwards slightly to be out of his view. In an instant, the man's head snapped towards Meenos' hiding spot, and slowly crept towards it. Meenos held completely still, refusing to even breathe. A rounded face appeared above the sofa, and the man gave a gasp before Meenos' knife was in his skull.

The Kroot didn't waste any time to spring over the couch and swing his knife into the nearest man. The man, an officer of the arbites, drew a baton and made to block the blow, but was far too slow for the Kroot. Meenos didn't need to say a word for the other two Kroot to join the fray. The trio ducked and dodged batons, fists, and the ends of rifles. For every blow sent at them, the Kroot returned with vicious execution. Meenos say one man stumble over himself as he turned to flee, and that he raised a quivering hand and muttered something to himself.

Except, it wasn't to himself, Meenos realized. A personal vox, to warn other guards, and more importantly, Godwill himself. Meenos sent a knife spinning end over end at the man, and there was a meaty thunk as it met his chest. The entire fight had only lasted a few moments, but it had changed everything.

Seeing that neither of his kin were injured, he reclaimed his twin knives and lead his pack onwards. Meenos silently cursed when he saw several guards standing outside Godwill's office, though he knew they would have been there with or without an alarm being raised. Prepare for a human attacker, the guards were shocked with horror to see inhuman creatures running at them. One had fired a shot before Seri was on him, slashing and biting into him with a ferocity unlike any other, and his lone lasround had flown past the trio harmlessly. Meenos lost himself in the combat, instinctively blocking one blow before jabbing with a knife. Rewarded with a cry of pain, Meenos kicked out at the man, causing him to stumble and slip on his own growing pool of blood. Thrusting a knife downwards to finish the man off, Meenos then rolled forwards and slashed upwards into another guard.

Meanwhile, Seri was dueling two guards at once, blocking with her bladed rifle and feigning counter attacks to keep them back. Outraged at the sight of their comrades being slain by xenos, the two rushed forwards in unison. With a glint of mischief in her eyes, Seri ducked, and both men stared in horror as their blades embedded into one another. "Too slow, humans." She taunted, and snickered to herself as both men fell to the ground together.


Seeing that the guards were caught up with Meenos and Seri, Voshia slipped into Godwill's office, but what she saw only disappointed her. Their target, their prey, was laying facedown, unbreathing and completely still. Grabbing his wrist, she tutted when she found no pulse. No marks were on the man, and she found an open cartridge in his pocket, with a pill shaped hole in it.

"You coward." Voshia hissed.

The fighting had subsided now, and Meenos and Seri stepped through the door, seeing Voshia crouched over Godwill's body. "Dead?" Seri asked, and folder her arms, already knowing the answer. Voshia nodded, and showed them the cartridge. With a grunt in response, Meenos began picking through the late Godwill's desk, grabbing anything that seemed of use. While Meenos rifled through the office, an idea came to Seri. Without saying a word, she hoisted Godwill's body over her shoulder.

When both Voshia and Meenos looked questioningly at her, she explained, "We may not have been able to kill him, but we can make him a message. A symbol." Meenos stared at Seri for a moment longer before a malicious grin slowly crept up his face.



It was a cold morning, with the breeze still seeping through Gaelos' coat. After the excitement of yesterday, and Jebediah Godwill's disappearance from a guarded building, the man had wondered what had happened. Not that the arbites had said anything about it, Gaelos thought bitterly. Gaelos pushed his thoughts away, he was used to his higher ups leaving him, the common man, behind. This was why he was a part of the Tiller Rebellion, they promised what he had never known, what he never dreamed of.

Lost in thought, Gaelos only came to when he heard the cawing of a raven. Looking up, the man blenched and gagged, hardly daring to trust his eyes. Ahead of him was a hanging body, with a hastily tied rope around his neck, letting the corpse dangle off of a street lamp. It was barely recognizable as human, as it had bloody stumps in replacement of its arms and legs, and it's entire torso had been torn to shreds. Barely able to handle himself, Gaelos crept forwards, his own grim morbidity keeping him on his path. He sank to his knees when the wind blew the body around, allowing Gaelos to see the man's face, which had remained wholly untouched in comparison to the rest of the ravaged cadaver. Gaelos shook his head, made a prayer to the God-Emperor, and after wiping tears from his eyes, double checked to make sure what he saw was true.

It was Jebediah Godwill.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/04/09 04:22:17


Post by: Bobthehero


----- Sky above the Krios continent -----

Garvel stood up, undoing his buckles as he did so. The flight was rather long and he had to walk around the Valkyrie a little. His decision came at a wrong, however, as the Valkyrie jerked violently. sending him crashing on the walls. His armor took most of the hit, but every Scion could feel their Valkyrie lowering.

'' What's going on? '' asked the Tempestor in charge

The pilot voice blared on the PA '' Fuel's out, something's wrong with the externals, I'll land it, but you guys will have to hitch a ride on the bird or leg it ''

'' Land it? '' the copilot asked

'' I stand by my word, there's a clearing on our right, we'll head there, release the fuel tanks, it'll get in the way and we're deep in it enough as it is ''

'' Gotcha, fuel's down, landing gear coming down as well ''

'' Aight '' the pilot switched on the PA '' Hang on, we'll make it, but it won't be your softest landing ''

The pilot killed the PA and switched comms with his copilot '' We still got a bit of juice, we're aligned pretty well with the clearing, I'll kill the engines and use whatever we got left to power up the VTOL's, should keep the cargo alive, you keep an eye on with the lascannon scope, don't want to hit a tree on our way ''

The gunship came down hard on the open space, the strapped in Scions were fine, but Garvel was thrown around like a ragdoll. The ramp opened and the six intact men and women exited the cargo bay, carrying the uncouscious form of their comrade. The Valkyrie crewmen met up with the stormtroopers.

'' Sent a message to the rest of your squad, they're coming down now, what happened to him? '' asked the pilot

'' Unstrapped himself, we do that on long flights ''

'' Is he...? ''

'' He'll be fine once we stimm him, carapace armor's pretty tough, despite what one might think ''

The Scion carrying the medkit was busy looking through his pack for stimulants when the other Valkyrie landed nearby.

Mallia ran up to the half of the operators under her command.

'' What happened! Why is that trooper down! ''

The pilot answered

'' Some flaws in the fueling system, we ran out of fuel, had to land it here, your man unstrapped himself ''

Mallia facepalmed

'' Hope one of you has a plan, we can't fit everyone in the same bird, we can't abandon a perfectly fine Valkyrie here, either ''

It was at time that Garvel stop straight up

'' Ma'am! I got it! You and your half land at the LZ like we planned, set up the camp, we'll leg it! ''

'' That's... at least a day walk ''

'' Our suits have stims injectors, we'll run on that juice and crash as we come to our hole, then we can infilitrate that city and take out the target? ''

'' And the gunship? ''

'' Who ca- ''

The other pilot interrupted the stormtrooper

'' Simple, we drop you at the rendez-vous, transfer some fuel from one bird to the other, cross the ocean and meet up with some of your men on the other continent, get fueled proper and then reach the base ''

'' What about sending another Valk? ''

'' Too much risk, I am not even sure we passed through unseen, sending another Valk is asking for trouble ''

'' Alright, but I want the downed team to stay by the gunships until they take off, make sure noone stumbles up on the undefended ship ''

The grounded Scions spread around, establishing a secured perimeter around the Valkyrie, while the rest of them boarded their functionning transport and flew to the landing zones. Two hours later, the Valkyrie came back, and the pilots quickly started transfering fuel.

'' I've already calculated the distance we'll be able to travel, according to the Tempestor I talked to, squads are already being sent to secure the area where we'll land, we're good to go ''

The Tempestor left in charge by Mallia nodded

'' We'll get moving then, see ya back at the fort ''

----- Krios continent, the 85th cache near New Pavus, a day and a half later-----

The cache had been dug fairly slowly, but considering they were doing with half the men they were supposed to, Mallia couldn't complain. The rest of her troops were making regular radio check and would be fairly close to her location right about now.

It took about twenty minutes for the first armored shape to become clear, the cameleoline coat made the Scions almost invisible in the forest. Extra precaution.

'' How did it go? '' she asked

'' Well we need called in for a contact, did we? '' answerd the Garvel

'' I suppose so, you got ten hours of rest now, then we'll send you off in the city, there's a road nearby, we'll figure out the details once you've reset ''

'' Aye ma'am, with pleasure ''

The newcomers were awakened by their colleagues some time after. Mallia was getting ready to brief them.

'' The five of you will enter the city, you'll dressed in civies. Bring weapons if you must, they don't really check for e'm at the gate, we made sure, this is stricly reconnaissance, figure out if the Tillers are strong here, and then learn where Horatio is, once that's all done, I'll send the snipers and they'll take the shots, unless you're 100% sure you can take him down on the spot ''

The team nodded

'' Find an abandonned building, or a hole or whatever, lay low down there and then conduct your mission, we've set up comms up in a tree out there, so you'll be able to reach us if anything goes wrong. Now go and change yourselves, we readied autopistols for you ''

The five stormtroopers headed out of the hole in ground, wearing unremarkable clothes, with their gear hidden in whatever pockets they had. They reached the road in a few minutes and started to walk towards New Pavus.

'' Not a lot of refugees, coming today ''

'' Gonna make our job easier, look at the walls, see if there's a way to get through for the snipers ''

The team stopped talking once they've reached the city gates, a few men were keeping watch, but none of them stopped the Scions, so far so good, except for the massive delay, they didn't any particular weaknesses in the walls, but that would warrant a more complete reconnaissance. They looked around the city for a while before finding a place they could occupy in piece, the team had brought few possessions with them, folding mattress and whatnot, they've them down and quietly proceeded to reinforce their new house.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/04/09 20:40:48


Post by: Kharne the Befriender


This piece was co-written by myself and Vanden with some help from 2BJ1 and Chazz

=====Governor's Mansion, Crion=====

Iodius stood over the bodies of Danner and Bedre. Both veterans of hundreds of years of war, both killed by savages. Iodius swore revenge on every damned ork he could find, but that would have to wait. With the Carcharadons in attendance of the banquet, Iodius thought it would be the only way to mend history. He had asked Captain Taranis if he and Ceasar could accompany him to his camp. Afterwards, they would discuss terms of the truce, and, hopefully, renewed relations. Taranis was intrigued by the thought, and he offered the two a trip on his Thunderhawk to his camp. That was a start at least.

Ceasar put on his helmet. He didn’t want the Carcharadons to see his dismay. He didn’t like them any more than any other Battle-brother of his, but he knew that if they were to win this war, steps would have to be taken. As a precaution, he placed a single bolt into his ‘Stalker-pattern bolter’. Any shenanigans would be met with a bolter to the head. His thoughts were interrupted by a voice
“How many ways have you thought to murder our allies Ceasar?” Iodius leaned on the wall, he obviously witnessed the loading of the bolter.
“At this moment? Four. One of them is throwing them out of the Bird.” Iodius raised his eyebrow
“You know that’s a heretical thought? I can have you killed for that…”
“I know, but you won’t. You know exactly what I think about this, and what the majority of our brothers do.” Ceasar nodded, he understood. The past between the two chapters was sour, but that’s why he was trying to fix it.
“Aye, I do, but quit your moping and deal with it. We have a plane to catch.” With that Ceasar bowed and strode out of Ceasar’s sight, leaving him to further prepare.
“Be a shame if that plane came crashing down…” Ceasar spoke under his breath.
“I heard that.”
“Gak”

The trip to ‘Strike Base Armageddon’ was a silent one. Iodius and Ceasar sat on one side, while Taranis sat on the other. Ceasar rarely lifted his head, and Iodius’s eyes were closed. His mind had wandered back to the fateful day that he learned of the betrayal. He felt his lip curl in disdain, and felt the eyes of Captain Taranis fall on him. He was too young to know exactly what happened, but there was no doubt in Iodius’s mind that he had heard what had happened.
The pilots voice was heard over the Stormbirds vox.
“Three minutes until we reach ‘Strike Base Armageddon’.”
Ceasar nudged Iodius to wake him from his thoughts, the startled Chaplain automatically reached for the hilt of his Crozius, but held it in place as he remembered where he was.
“Three minutes ‘till we reach the Carcharadon camp. Wake up and at least try to make yourself presentable.” Ceasar grumbled.
“Presentable? We’re Adeptes Astartes, not some pompous noble trying to impress a governor (Like those Ultramarine gakkers…), We are always presentable.” Iodius smirked.
“At least put your helmet, don’t want to scare our new allies out of their socks now do we?” Ceasar always had the upper hand when it came to smart-assed comments, Iodius would never surpass him in that. Taranis smiled, it was uncommon to see two different individuals get on so well. The Stormbird touched down on the outskirts of the camp, and the trio walked out to be greeted by the Techmarine Ogun and a Chaplain. Ceasar’s grip on his bolter intensified as the Techmarine strode out to greet his newly arrived captain.
“Captain, you did not tell us you were bringing guests.” He bowed his head to Taranis and cast his eyes over the two strangers. He looked over the two, this time the insignia on one of the strangers shoulder pad catching his eye. “That symbol…I’ve seen it somewhere…”
His eyes lit up and he nodded.
“Hmm…I see…Come, we have much to discuss.” With that, the Techmarine strode away from the four further into the camp.
Sensing Iodius and Ceasar’s confusion, Taranis turned.
I can speak through telepathy. My voice has been shattered by the likes of an Eldar witch we search for, but luckily Ogun was able to create a psy-vox.
Iodius shook his head
“My mind is my own, I ask you leave it that way.” Taranis nodded.
“At least we can communicate, but it seems I look like an idiot when I speak to you that way.” Ceasar was less guarding when it came to speaking psychically.
“You are an idiot.” Iodius coughed under his breath.


=====Strike Base Armageddon, Clerth, Crion=====

Exitar watched as the last remaining fragments of the Eldar vehicles were loaded into crates prepped for the Carcharius when it brought Taranis back. The tech was to be sent to the Adeptus Mechanicus on the planet as a sign of good will. This gave Exitar an idea, he moved over to the communications bunker and stepped inside. He addressed the man in charge, “Contact the Agrona, have them send both the MAximus and the Griseus. Contact the Nasus and have them start flying sorties over the forest, try and find any sign of Eldar. I’ll contact you later for results.” “Yes sir, I’ll see that it gets done.” Exitar turned as Ogun entered the bunker, “Captain’s back.” Exitar followed Ogun out of the bunker just in time for the Carcharius to touch down on the airfield. The side door opened and Taranis stepped out followed by 2 other marines. What appeared to be Captain and Chaplain of the chapter Dorn’s Wish if his memory proved correct.

Taranis had begun telepathically communicating with Exitar, “Have there been any developments?” “Yes, the Eldar have attacked the base, we have caught and tortured one. These are the Eldar we’re after.” The amount of hate that Taranis exuded chilled Exitar to his bones, and then it vanished. “You have this captive? And what is with those crates?” Exitar looked over at the lumbering aircraft as the last of the cargo was loaded and it prepped for launch. “We are sending the remains of the Eldar tech to the Mechanicus on the planet. How did things go at the banquet?” “Poor, the Governor is an ignorant man, but we have evidence now. Oh, and Orks attacked.” “Sounds like quite the evening.” He looked to Ogun and again began to telepathically communicate, “Take Oligidon and Microdon and scour the forest, find whatever trace of the Eldar you can find.”

They followed Taranis for about 30 seconds until he stopped to meet two other marines, one appeared to be a Techmarine, the other was a massive Chaplain clad in ancient Tartaros plate. No words were spoken, this must have been a psychic conversation. The Techmarine walked away and Taranis turned around, “That was Techmarine Ogun, he is in charge of defending this base and this,” He gestured to the machine man rigidly standing there, “is Exitar, the Company Chaplain and my second in command.” The gargantuan figure next to him rumbled, as if waking from an aeon long slumber. He looked at Taranis, “Who are our guests?”His voice had the hiss of bionics, and Iodius presumed he was almost as ancient as his armour, though that was practically impossible. “Hail, I am Captain Ceasar of the Tenth company. Before anything else can you please tell me, what came first, the armour, or you?” Ceasar joked. It was risky, but he was one for first impressions.
“Your death will come last if you don’t hold your tongue.” Exitar’s voice was a whir of biomechanics.
“I try telling him that he needs to watch his words…I am Chaplain Iodius, and by the Emperor it is good to see another Chaplain…” Iodius exclaimed, none of it was exaggerated.
“You have no other Chaplains?” Exitar seemed slightly surprised.
“I am the last one remaining in the Chapter. We suffered a major treason as of late, and we’re still reeling from it.” Iodius’s face dropped, the memories of his fellow Chaplains clogging his mind.
“You will get over it, the Emperor will see to it.” Exitar’s voice lacked any emotion.
“Indeed…In time…Come now, let us stop with this depressing topic, we have an alliance to forge no?” Ceasar was quick to change the topic, as it too hung on his heart. Taranis nodded, and lead the two over to a large bunker. They sat and began talking for the next hour, until the conversation hit a wall.
“I am sorry, but the sins of the past cannot be forgiven in a few sentences and good alcohol. The Chapters history cannot be rewritten in a day. It just simply cannot be done.” Ceasar sat back and crossed his arms, obviously disturbed by the notion of forgetting everything.
“Then what do you propose you do Captain? Or is all this talk of Peace and Alliance just a waste of time?” Exitar was also unhappy, he had better things to do than talk about peace and harmony between the two chapters.
“We fight.” Iodius finally lifted his head. This being the first time he said anything the entire conversation.
“We what? Are you mad Chaplain?” Ceasar was taken aback, the notion of fighting another chapter was absurd, especially one that they had bad relations with.
“Probably. But think about it, an honour duel, between the two that actually remember what happened that fateful day.” He gestured to Exitar and himself. “It also helps that we’re both Chaplains. Even ground.” Iodius was calm, for once…
Taranis turned his head towards Exitar, whose gaze had been fixed on Iodius. Exitar made no movement, but it was clear he would accept.
“Aye, I do indeed still remember the day. This is a fair ask, Chaplain, but where, and when?” Exitar leaned back and crossed his arms. This might just get interesting.
“I can’t see why not now. With the armour we have on our backs and our fists. I’d assume that a space can be cleared in a marginally short time?” The last part was addressed to Taranis, who nodded and went to rise.
“Actually, we have a combat training ground we can use.”
“My, you are always the one with the stupid ideas Iodius…” Ceasar held his head in his hands. This was going to be the second duel he was going to see his best friend in, although he was sure he would come out of this a lot worse.
“Guess I spent too much time around you.”
“You’d think that you would’ve grown half a brain by now if that was true…”

It took not but a minute of walking before they reached the grounds, the men readied themselves. Iodius and Exitar stood at opposite ends of the arena. Each administering Rites on themselves. Ceasar stood next to the Captain of the Carcharadons.
“How long do you think it’s going to take for them to knock each other out?”
“No more than 5 minutes.”
“Want to make bets?” Ceasar laughed, and to his surprisal, was met by a hand reaching out and grabbing a bottle of fine Macragian wine. “Oh, one second…” He fished around in a small satchel he brought with him, and, after a few moments, pulled out a cask of Fenrisian ale. “Nicked this last time we visited Lord Stormclaw.” He was met by a raised eyebrow and a firm handshake. “This will be interesting now.”
“Of course it will be, it’s the two most stubborn people on the planet duking it out, what more do you expect?”
“I see your point. Good luck”
Iodius rose from his kneeling position and removed his helmet.
“Let’s make this interesting, helmets off. Almost evens the odds.”
“No, helmets stay on.” Exitar felt himself becoming gore hungry.
“Helmets on then. Let’s do this.” Iodius raised his fists, and the timer began.

Iodius began the fight. Using his superior speed and manoeuvrability, he lunged at the giant. Two quick blows to Exitars helm left him surprised, but he recovered quickly. Lashing out with the back of his armoured fist, he backhanded Iodius two metres, then closed the gap with one massive step. He brought his massive foot down on Iodius’s back, but he was no longer there. Already Iodius had rolled to the side and kicked at Exitars legs. The blow did not even sway the giant, as once again he brought his foot down, this time stomping right on Iodius’s left hand. Iodius felt bones break, and quickly bit back a grunt of pain. He planted his feet firmly on Exitars breastplate and pushed backwards, which in turn sent Exitar back a few paces. Iodius used the opportunity to get to his feet, but by that time, Exitar was already upon him. An armoured fist sailed through the air and Iodius barely backstepped to avoid it. It was followed by blow after blow from Exitar, and Iodius felt him get closer and closer to the arena boundaries. Instead of dodging the last strike, he grabbed at the armoured fist. His muscles tensed as he felt himself slide back thirty centimetres. He had stopped his assailant, and pulled himself closer to Exitar. He brought his left elbow up onto the ancient Chaplains faceplate, he heard the hit resonate inside the helmet. The blow staggered Exitar only angering him. Exitar grabbed at Iodius, who was still trying to scramble away from Exitar to avoid his revenge. Too slow, thought Exitar. He felt his hand move over something, and he closed his grip and pulled. Iodius felt himself being dragged back towards the furious Chaplain. Exitar smiled as he held the Chaplain by the foot, and he drew his arm back and swung him around. He released and saw Iodius spiral through the air and land on the ground with a thud a full six metres away. He skidded another two before finally coming to a rest. Iodius knew he wouldn’t win the duel like this. In terms of strength, Exitar won hands down. But if Iodius used his superior speed, he could possibly gain the upper hand. Exitar reached up and pulled his jaw sidewards, hearing a click. ‘Better’ he thought. Exitar turned his attention back to the dazed Chaplain and began making his way towards him. Exitar knew he was winning at the moment, but he knew that he should not underestimate his opponent.

Taranis’s eyes widened as the timer passed the five minute mark, and heard Captain Ceasar chuckle.
“Guess you owe me that beautiful beverage ey?” Ceasar rubbed his hands together, wondering what he could do with such power…
“How about we raise the stakes?”
Taranis once again reached out and pulled out another unopened bottle of Wine. This time, Ceasars eyes widened at the sight. The gambler inside him was reaching out, begging for the second bottle…
“What are you changing it to?” He could barely handle the thrill of the bet.
“Nine minutes. Winner goes home with four large bottles of alcohol.”
Ceasar knew he shouldn’t…But, he reached for yet another cask of Ale and placed it with the rest. He then outstretched his hand and smiled.
“May the best Chaplain win.” Taranis also smiled and grasped his hand, urging Exitar to beat Iodius quicker.

Iodius feinted right and darted beneath Exitar’s guard, hammering his foot onto the back of Exitar’s knee, bringing the warrior to a kneeling position. He followed with several other boots to his other knee, before Exitar finally got his hands on him and began squeezing the life out of Iodius. Iodius struggled in the iron grip, but managed to get his good arm out, and began pounding at Exitar, each blow bring a grunt from both opponents. Eventually, Exitar released Iodius and took several steps back, holding a hand to his helm. Iodius in turn, wheezed as he tried to once again fill his lungs with air. Several more minutes passed of the back-and-forth dance the two Chaplains were performing. And the bets had reached a new height. In the pile sat seven bottles of Wine and three bottles of Ale, along with several notes with a scribbled ‘IOU ALCOHOL’ tossed into the pile. Thirty minutes passed, and neither opponent seemed to give way. Both swayed from the constant fighting, and both were wounded. Iodius limped around Exitar, who in turn squinted to see Iodius, his one remaining good eye struggling to see through the blood, and his bionic eye’s lens was shattered. Iodius once again lunged in towards Exitar, trying to catch him by surprise, but instead, was met with a boot straight to the chest. He fell backwards and felt his chestplate buckle as Exitar followed him down with his foot. He felt shards from the armour bite into his ribcage, and he struggled to lift the giant weight off of him. Exitar knew all it would take was one more stomp. As he lifted his foot to finish the fight, Iodius pushed upwards with surprising strength, and managed to get Exitar to fall backwards. Iodius pounced onto Exitar’s form and once again began pounding at his cracked helm with renewed vigour.
“STAY *Punch* DOWN *Punch* EMPEROR *Punch* DAMN *Punch* IT *Punch*!” Exitar could no longer hold on. He felt his head tilt backwards, and felt his eyes roll back. Iodius saw this, and fell off the giant.
“Just for the record…You fell first…” Iodius gasped between breaths.
Exitar mumbled something that must have been in his native language and managed to laugh once before he slipped into unconsciousness. Iodius followed suit less than three seconds later.

“The bonds of Brotherhood have been renewed. And I welcome it!” Ceasar exclaimed as he grasped Taranis’ hand and shook it up and down vigorously.
“As do I, but tell me…Who won the bet?”
Taranis was smiling, already knowing the answer.
“Ah yes…The bet…I’ll have the Thunderhawk drop the rest off once we’re ready to go…” Ceasar was sad to part way from the plethora of alcohol he had pilfered over the many years of Captainhood.
“I’ll tell you what, how about I take a few casks and you take a few bottles.”
“That’s generous of you Taranis.”
Taranis’ eyes made their way to the pair lying in the middle of the arena.
“You think we should get them up?”
“Just send an apothecary, we have Wine and Ale to taste.”
“That would give Artemis something to do. Wait, what do you mean we?
“Why of course! You can’t drink on your own now can you?”
“I suppose not. Come, I shall prepare a feast for the occasion.”
“The new alliance or the procuration of new drinks?”
“Bit of both.”


The captains made their way to the feasting hall when they passed the armory. Taranis stopped for a second and looked at the door. Ceaser stopped shortly afterwards and looked the door over slightly confused.
“What, is the door a heretic?”
“This is where the Eldar captive is being held.”
“A live Eldar? At least you have evidence to show the Governor. May I speak with it? Perhaps my methods and approach will allow me to get more answers for you.” Taranis mulled this over.
“I believe you have an Eldar to interrogate. They walked through the door and started down the corridor. Taranis pondered what the other captain had just said, maybe he wouldn’t kill the Eldar yet. Perhaps it still had use.
After a couple minutes of walking they finally arrived at the location. Before them, was the broken body of what seemed to be a Warlock of the Iybraesil Craftworld. He felt no pity for the Xeno, as its crimes against the Imperium were uncountable. It was time for Ceasar to see what information he could collect. He pulled up a chair and dragged it across the room until he was face to face with the Warlock. He sat down and the Warlock raised its bloodied head. He noticed that it was missing most of its fingers.
“I told you before mon’keigh…I shall say nothing more…” Ceasar said nothing as he inspected the Eldar, casting his eyes up and down the Xeno, as if…Looking for something…
“I see your soulstone is missing.” The words ‘soulstone’ unlocked something deep inside the Warlock. Fear. “It’s not a well known fact, but did you know that the more pain a Xeno such as yourself has sustained after the loss of its soulstone dictates how much more pain it feels once it’s soul goes to Slaanesh?” The Warlock's eyes widened at the statement. It had clearly not known it and contemplated whether it was true or not. “I speak the truth Eldar. Now, if you give me information on your warhost, your farseer and what you know of this planet, I will ensure, that on my honour, your death will be quick. If not, well, lets just say my friends aren’t as nice as myself. Your choice.” Several minutes later Ceasar returned to the company of Taranis.
“The Warlock truly knows nothing, but he did tell me he overheard something about Harlequins. Seems like this lot isn’t the only Eldar on the planet…and I’ll bet you my cellar that that’s where the Eldar moved to. I couldn’t see them staying here after what you told me.” Taranis seemed to think on the statement for a while.
“You don’t have a cellar anymore remember?”
“Oh…Yeah…” Both Taranis and Ceasar laughed, and Taranis began making his way to the captive, but was stopped when Ceasar placed a hand on his shoulder. “Make its death quick. I promised on my honour.” Taranis looked at Caeser, “I don’t I’ll kill the Eldar yet, not until the Governor sees it. Then yes, it will be quick.


Taranis walked out of the building and was surprised to find Exitar standing and waiting for him, his armor still beaten. “Exitar, I thought you were still recovering.” “I need not recover long. I bring news, aerial reconnaissance reports show no sign or trace of the Eldar.”
“What of Oligidon? Did they find anything?”
“No, nothing…”
“Then we are at a loss here. I’ll contact the Governor, invite him to our feast. I want you to keep watch on our wishful friends.”

Sometime Later

The Governor’s shuttle gently landed on the airfield of Strike Base Armageddon. A few moments after landing the shuttle door opened before several of the Governor's personal guards exited the vehicle and stood to the side. The Governor stepped out of the shuttle with the pomp and circumstance of a king, he was followed by a hooded figure which grabbed Taranis’ attention.
“Governor, welcome to our strikebase.”
“Thank you Lord Taranis, it is my pleasure to be here.”
“Before we attend the feast I have some things I must speak with you about. If you would follow me please.”
“Yes, of course.” The plump man struggled to keep up with the massive Astartes. The Governor looked to the hooded figure behind him before looking at Taranis. He seemed to think his words over before speaking.
“Lord Taranis, I believe we may have gotten off to the wrong start at the banquet.”
They were nearing the base armory, but the Governor had not noticed.
“Is that so? I believe I should be the one apologising after my interruption.”
“Oh, uh, well apology accepted. After talking with my advisers and reviewing some, incidents that have occurred, I have come to the conclusion that Crion might have-”
They had reached the building and Taranis had opened thedoor for the Governor. He walked to find a being strapped to a chair, it wasn’t dead, merely unconscious. The Governor’s jaw dropped at seeing the alien in front of him.
“-Eldar…”
“We caught this one after they launched an attack from the Jungle. We searched for them but they have disappeared. We are currently seeking aid to hunt these Eldar down so we may end this.” A third voice spoke.
“We may have what you are looking for.” The hooded figure revealed itself to be a Kroot.
“A Kroot? I do believe you can help, as long as your allegiance remains with the Emperor we shall have no quarrels. Governor, I may not have need of your PDF, but now that you mention assistance. There is a Guard regiment, the ‘Redeemers’ as their known, stationed on the Forgeworld of Stalos. Contact Colonel Axius, tell him the Void needs steel, he will understand.”
“Why of course Lord Taranis, I will have my men contact them, but remember I need this to be confidential, Emperor knows what would happen if the populace found out.”
“Of course Governor,”Exitar had entered the building by this time and was waiting for the conversation to finish. “What do you require Exitar?”
“The feast is soon to start and Captain Ceaser says he needs his drinking buddy.”
“Of course. Governor, you looked famished, Exitar will escort you to the feasting hall. I will be there shortly, but I must speak with your friend here for a minute.”
Taranis and Ta’lok waited for Exitar and the Governor to leave the building before resuming communication.
“I believe we not yet acquainted, I am Taranis, captain of this company. You are?”
“Ta’lok, I lead the rest of my kin on this planet. We’d be glad to help, but I’ll need something to bring back to my kin.”
“I see, well, I can promise you a share of the Eldar bodies we kill. You help us, and I’ll guarantee that your kin eat well. I have allies coming to aid us as well, perhaps they will also have work for you.”
“This sounds like a good proposal, so what exactly do you need?”
“I need you to hunt the Eldar of Craftworld Iybraesil, this is one of them.” He gestured to unconscious Eldar across the room. Ta’lok looked hungrily at it.
“If you accept this deal you can have him. He has fulfilled his purpose here.” Ta’lok pondered the offer and mulled it over.
“You have a deal Astartes.”
“Wonderful, contact me before you leave, I’ll have the Eldar packed up for you.”

The Next Day

Exitar sat on a stool next to Taranis’ bunk, he was reading one of the local papers. After reading a couple pages he set the paper down and picked up his Crozius. He deactivated its power field and looked it over, then he started poking Taranis with it. Taranis quickly turned to look at Exitar who sat there still clad in his Terminator plate.
“Exitar? How did you get in here? Why are you prodding me?”
“We have received word from Colonel Axius.” This peaked the captain interest.
“Have we now? What has he said?”
“He is sending us three companies to aid our cause.”
“Only three?”
“Apparently Stalos has been raided a few times by Corsairs.”
“Understandable,” He thought for a second, “Chaos Corsairs or Eldar Corsairs?” Exitar cocked his head slightly.
“He didn’t say. Where shall we have them stationed?”
“I’ll think it over, but rally the men. We have slaughter to prepare for.”
“Yes, sir.”


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/04/10 09:00:30


Post by: chazz huggins


KoreGog was dead, but the reign of brutality that his clan had wrought was far from over.

Kort BloodSpitta who the orks had come to refer as “The Mean One” had assembled all the clanz prominent figures, nobz and various odd boyz in KoreGog’s great hall where only the night before the great Koregog Da Bloody feasted and celebrated the capture of Eldar. Kort BloodSpitta was every bit as cruel and as violent as Koregog and believed himself every bit as strong. The ork was covered in tattoos and scars, each a memory of a good fight.

BloodSpitta spoke “KoreGog is dead, dat makes me Warboss now.” A nob shouted “Zog you I won’t follow a git faced weasel like you.” The mean one growled “I’m da biggest I’m da boss.” The rebellious nob spat “Yer a fat one fer sure, but I’m da ardest and killyest so I ought ta be Warboss.” BloodSpitta flipped the massive table and gave a feral growl. Blek a Runtherd laughed “Only one way to settle dis, one of you has gotta die.” The nob drew his choppa sword and charged at Kort shouting “Well it aint going ta be me.” Kort unveiled a pair of bearded axes. The nob swung but Kort effortlessly dodged the attack. The nob swung again and again Kort dodged only this time Kort brought one of his axes down at the bend of the ork’s arm severing it. The nob howled in pain, Kort smiled as he pressed his advantage. Kort put his axes in the ork’s chest and the nob fell to the floor. The rebel was barely alive, and kort took a swing, and another swing, until it stopped moving. Than after the beast was dead Kort kept swinging and swinging. Each blow sprayed him with his opponent’s blood. Soon there was nothing easily recognizable of the opponent only a pile of blood and mashed gore.

Blek gulped nervously “Well suppose that settles it unless any of you ladz have anything to say.” All the orks in the hall were both impressed and terrified at what they had just saw, each happy that it wasn’t them. Blek took their silence as a clear thumbs up “All right den, all hail Warboss Kort BloodSpitta Da Mean One.”

Spoiler:
A new Boss emerges after the death of Warboss KorGog. ork victory revealed


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/04/10 16:32:31


Post by: Robin5t


In a scenario not unusual for Crion over the last couple of weeks, a small group of shadows darted through the jungle, jumping through the treetops from branch to branch.

Feubryn had tasked Dranc, along with Imryll and Fallacy, to investigate the nearby mon-keigh ruins at Fallacy's suggestion. Apparently, in those ruins there may lie some hint as to what secret was hidden in this system.

So, the three of them set out – they were dropped off a couple of miles out by Starweaver then made the rest of the approach on foot.

“And thus, the three heroes made their way through the canopy, inching ever closer to the end of their quest,” Fallacy muttered from the front, “But what perils would await on the Heroes' Path? They would soon find out.”

“I take it you do not know what dangers we should expect, then,” Imryll said quietly as she leapt alongside him.

“I would assume there will be Human traps,” Fallacy shrugged mid-leap, “Other than that, I can not say.”

“Between the three of us, we should be able to handle most dangers,” Dranc interjected, “Anything we can not kill, which, given present company, is a very short list, we are fast enough to flee from.”

“Well, let's find out,” Fallacy said, “I can see the entrance.”

The entrance to the ruin was rather unimpressive. The Imperial architecture had long been covered in a variety of quite recognisable architectural horrors, as familiar as the warriors standing around outside it.

“Orks,” Imryll sighed, “I suppose we should have guessed.”

“It seems we must deal with the current tenants first,” Dranc pointed out needlessly, staring at the small group of Orks, “If I may deal with the ones outside? I have an amusing idea.”

“By our guest,” Fallacy waved him on grandly.



Two Orks stood in a watchtower, as a small group of their fellows stood around beneath it.

“I'z bored,” complained one of the Orks, “When'z we gonna go out with Koregog's boyz and have a propa fight?”

“When da boss sez so, so keep it down,” the other countered, “You know wot da boss'll do if he hears you snifflin like a Grot.”

The other Ork's reply was cut off as a rock hit him square in the head. “Ow!” he snarled, “Oi! You lot! Which one of you runty gitz just chukked that rock at me 'ead!”

One of the boyz down below shouted back. “Nobody been chukkin nuffink! You'z definitely hit your head, Zog, but it wasn't nuffink we did!”

“Wot did ya say, ya git?” Zog demanded, “Well 'ere then, 'ave it back!” he picked up the rock in question and hurled it down at the shouter.

The rock hit the shouter in the nose. He staggered back – before his blood began to bubble underneath his skin. This continued for a moment, then, without giving the rest of the boyz around him time to react, he exploded violently, spraying the Orks around him with acid and painfully killing them all.

Zog stared at his hand in shock. “Did you see dat?” he demanded.

“I saw it good, Zog,” the other Ork replied, staring at the scene in stunned surprise, “You just chukked a rock off his 'ead and he went and 'sploded!”

“It'z got to be a blessin' from Gork an' Mork,” Zog said reverently, cradling his hand, “I'z been given the Rockchukkin' Hand of Gitsplodin!”

“We'z got to tell da boss,” the other Ork agreed.

“Zog da boss! Wif dis hand,” he raised his hand into the air, “I'z gonna be da boss!”

A sound echoed, like air being sliced, as razor-sharp projectiles cut through the Ork's raised hand at the wrist, slicing it off entirely.

“No!” he cried in dismay, “Not da Rockchukkin' Hand of Gitsplodin!”

The hand hit the floor as more projectiles carved up the other Ork. Zog dropped to his knees, cradling the severed hand, “You woz too 'splodey for dis world,” he said solemnly, before he was proven right as the hand began to bubble.



Dranc gave a deep chuckle as the final Ork was killed by the explosion of his own severed hand.

“Creative,” Fallacy murmured appreciatively, “Putting a shrieker round in that Ork just as the rock hit him was good timing.”

“I do my best to please,” Dranc gave a grandiose bow, “Now then, ladies. The way is clear. Shall we proceed and enter this Ork-filled primitive ruin?”

“Oh, Dranc,” Fallacy pretended to fan herself, “You know exactly where to take a girl on your first courting!”

“I'm afraid I'm not so easy to impress,” Imryll said calmly as they moved toward the entrance, “You will have to treat me to a meal, first.”

“I will bear that in mind,” Dranc said in amusement, “There will undoubtedly be more down there.”

“Good,” Imryll responded primly, “It wouldn't be fair if you had all the fun.”



Meanwhile, Ros Hannoi, Indo-Cambria, Crion

Cuddio's Mimes were at work again - this time, planting more listening devices throughout the city. They focused once again on buildings from the higher economic classes, and once again managed to slip out unseen. If anything important happened in Ros Hannoi, the Masque of the Blameless Culprit would know about it.

They had planted everything they could in Ros Hannoi, and the network was unlikely to expand further here. The next target would be another city...

Spoiler:
Minor victory, planted more bugs in Ros Hannoi.


--

Dranc ducked under the swing of an axe, bringing the scythe on his Shrieker Cannon around in a sweeping arc that separated the Ork's legs from his body. He saw several more charging down the hallway at him, and responded by opening fire with his Shrieker Cannon on fully automatic. In the reasonably narrow corridor, the Orks had no chance against the hail of Shuriken blades and were swiftly cut down. This granted him a moment's respite, which he used to check on his two comrades.

Imryll slammed her Miststave into an Ork, sending him flying into a wall with physical force one would never expect an Eldar of any description to be capable of producing. Another approached her from behind - only to swiftly turn and start savagely attacking the Ork next to him, who responded with an equivalent level of brutal violence. The two fought tooth and nail, only for one then the other to suddenly slump as Imryll picked them off with shots from her Neuro Disruptor. The most surprising thing about that scenario was that the Neuro Disruptor worked on Orks at all - before he first saw one of his comrades use one against an Ork, he had been quite sure the Greenskins had no brain to speak of.

A series of guttural roars caught his attention before he could try to determine where Fallacy was - another group of Orks were charging down the corridor at him, this time holding their primitive boom spears. With several loud bangs, five large projectiles were launched at him at high speed, and, primitive or not, getting hit by one would still hurt. While four of them would fly wide, one had luckily managed to fire at the right spot to hit him through his holo-field - leaning backwards, he committed himself to a full backwards cartwheel to allow the spear to fly harmlessly over his head. Unfortunately, this had given the Orks an opportunity to close the gap between them, and he was forced to back away as the lead one swung at him with a large, bladed club. It swiftly followed after him as he backed away toward the wall. Dranc cursed internally – fighting in enclosed spaces like this was not his strong suit. Having a long weapon did not help.

He turned, running up the wall and performing an acrobatic backflip to avoid the swinging club once again. As he sailed over the head of the Ork, he caught it's neck with the flat of his blade. As he landed on the ground behind it in a crouch, he pulled down hard - the Ork was bent forcibly back at the knees only to be held up by Dranc's hand - shielding him nicely from the savage overhead chop of another Ork, who sank his axe deep into the chest of his comrade. The Ork growled as it pulled the choppa free, preparing to swing it again, this time into Dranc.

The attempt was short lived, as a blast of pure telekinetic force barrelled into it, pulverising its internal organs and knocking it into another Ork with some force. Imryrll stepped forward, calmly firing off a shot with her Neuro Disruptor at the last remaining Ork. "I think we should find Fallacy," she said.

"Indeed," Dranc agreed, pushing the body of the dead Ork off him with a small effort, "I believe she went ahead to tackle the leader."

They proceeded down the corridor, which ended at a T-junction - and quickly determined, by way of observing the trail of bodies, that Fallacy had gone left. They followed the trail into a larger chamber, where they found the other member of their group.

Fallacy was currently in the middle of six large orks, one slightly larger than the others - Dranc determined them to be Nobs, and a Boss, the largest, strongest and most deadly Orks in a given group, who had worked their way to the top of the warband by being brutal, vicious and cunning, the epitome of the Ork war machine made flesh.

They didn't stand a chance.

The Solitaire was currently balanced on her hands, twisting around in a whirlwhind of kicks that, coupled with the twinned Harlequin's Caress' equipped on her legs, took savage chunks out of the attacking Nobs. One fell to the ground as his kneecaps were literally kicked out, before her leg swiftly came back around and scythed through his head, finishing him off. Another roared and swung down at her with a savage blow - a casual turn of the leg parried the strike wide while the other foot snapped forward, kicking out the Nob's heart, which was still beating before it hit the ground.

Fallacy then pushed herself up into the air, spinning around into an axe kick that cleaved clean down the middle of another nob, who immediately slumped to the ground. Landing on her feet, she leaned to the side to allow another enormous axe to chop through the empty space her torso had formerly inhabited, before she let loose with a combo of kicks almost too fast for even Dranc to see, felling the offender.

The last Nob gave a guttural shout and came at her in a leaping charge. Fallacy darted forward, coming to a stop underneath the offender - before flipping back onto her hands, legs shooting up to catch the Nob by the neck between them. The Solitaire swung her legs down with as much force as she could muster, pile-driving the still-airborne Ork head-first into the ground and splattering his skull and cranial matter across the stone floor.

It had taken a few seconds. The Boss, to his credit, did not look scared - only furious.

"You dancey shiney git!" the Boss roared, "You gone and krumped all me boyz! I'll krump ya right back!"

With a roar that seemed to shake the room, he charged at the Solitaire, the gigantic two-handed maul in his hands raised and ready to pulverise her into a fine mist. The maul smashed down onto the ground with a mighty crash - but his elusive foe was not under it when it landed.

"Wot?" he blinked, then fell to the ground with a mighty crash as his entire body seemed to stop functioning, revealing Fallacy behind him, who walked calmly away from him with her back turned. She did not look back once. "Why can't I feel me body? What did you do you zoggin dancey gigh..." with a loud, brutal cough, blood sprayed out of the large Ork's mouth, and his head slumped down, dead.

There was a moment of silence.

"I would have made him explode."

Fallacy turned to Dranc. "What?"

"When you killed him," Dranc elaborated, "You should have made him explode, and not looked back at the explosion as you walked away. It would have given a much better effect."

The Solitaire blinked, before looking distraught. "Oh dear, you're right! I completely missed an opportunity there for a dramatic 'great warriors don't look at explosions' scene! No, no, no, I need to fix this!" she zipped over to the dead Warboss, kicking him in the side, "You! Resurrect yourself! We need to do it again!" when there was no response, she kicked him again. "I don't care if I snapped your spinal cord at the neck and destroyed your internal organs, you need to get up and do it again!" When it became apparent that the Warboss was not getting up again, she dropped to her knees in despair. "I really messed up..."

“You didn't even make a quip,” Dranc pointed out helpfully.

“Noooooooooo!”

Imryll ignored the wailing Solitaire as she addressed Dranc. "I believe that's the last issue we'll have with the Orks," she said calmly, "We should search this place. Look for anything that is subtly hidden enough that the Orks would not have found it."

“Noted,” Dranc nodded, before turning away to search down one of the corridors.

“And you,” he heard Imryll kicking the sniffling Solitaire, “Get over it and make yourself useful.”



The Blameless Culprit Encampment, Jorgon, Indo-Cambria, Crion

Cuddio entered the pavillion of the High Avatar, to find Feubryn looking extremely irritated.

“Cuddio,” the High Avatar greeted, “You have news?”

“…” Cuddio informed him.

“So the infiltration was successful,” Feubryn nodded, “That's good. At least we have some good news today.”

“…?” Cuddio tilted his head, mask changing to a look of confusion.

“It seems the Dusk Knight and Twilight Troupe decided to interpret my request to obtain some Ork weaponry in a rather different way to what I was intending,” Feubryn sighed. “I intended for them to go out, ambush a patrol and take their weapons so we could frame the local Warboss for an attack on another Boss in the neighbouring region, as you know.”

Cuddio nodded.

“I've had a message back from a frantic member of the Twilight Troupe,” Feubryn continued to explain, “Apparently, the Dusk Knight decided that the best way to frame the Warboss for an attack on another boss would be to steal his personal weapon from the armoury in their fortress.”

The Master Mime's mask changed to a look of exasperation.

“As you can probably imagine,” Feubryn's even tone did not betray his thoughts on the matter, “This hasn't gone well for them. It seems the Dusk Knight, not only having this foolish idea, also ended up triggering a trap and has now, along with two of the Players from the Troupe, been captured by the Orks.”

Cuddio's face turned neutral. “…?”

Feubryn stood up. “Well, we're going to have to mount a rescue, aren't we? Get everyone ready. The troupes, the Voidweavers, your Mimes, I want us ready to move out the moment Imryll, Dranc and Fallacy return. And make no mistake,” he growled, “When we bring them back, I will tan that fool's hide for over-thinking and bungling things to this extent.”

Spoiler:
Major defeat – the Troupe Master of my Twilight Troupe and two other players are now held captive in the former fortress of Koregog the bloody. Probably worth noting that they tried this before Evergreen's Lictor assassinated him, it just took me some time to get a chance to write it all up.




Dranc narrowed his eyes as he caught sight of something unusual. So far, they had found nothing but the wonders of Ork interior decorating and ruins long-destroyed, but underneath an Ork banner, he spotted a faint, uniform crack in the wall.

He pulled the banner to one side, and began to feel around the wall – after a moment, he found a loose part of the stone, and pushed it in.

He stepped back as the stone moved aside, revealing another corridor. He wrinkled his nose beneath his mask as an awful smell came out of it – the cause quickly became apparent as he spotted the long-burnt corpse of an Ork. At the end of the room was a door, and next to the door, extending from the wall, was a statue, in a shape he imagined was supposed to look like the Mon-Keigh's rendition of a dragon.

He stepped inside carefully, eyes alert for anything, as he made his way toward the body of the Ork. He looked over it – the damage was clearly done by a flamethrower of some description. Was this the work of one of the former defenders, or -

He heard a click. And instantly understood that the Ork had been burned beyond recognition by a trap – a trap that he had foolishly walked into as well. Flames burst out of the mouth of the statue, bathing the entire mini-corridor. It was impossible to avoid, and he wasn't quick enough to get out -

The world seemed to blur as he found himself fall to the ground outside the corridor. Standing above him was Fallacy – who looked at him with a wagging finger.

“You should really be more careful, Dranc,” she chided him, “You're the only Death Jester in the Masque, remember. If you fall, it's really going to limit what kind of performances they can play.”

Dranc blinked, getting his bearings. “My thanks,” he finally said, “I was reckless.”

“Yes,” she agreed, “Unusually so, for you. But what's done is done.”

It took them a few minutes to work out how to disarm the fire trap. Of more interest, however, was the door. Untouched by the Orks, and with no obvious locking mechanism, there was obviously some secret to this door…

But what?

Spoiler:
Minor victory, searched the ruins at Site Havishan.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/04/10 23:21:39


Post by: Sgt. Vanden


The 2nd Helsreach ‘Gorgons’. Straight out of the previous campaign, Lord General Henri McFallus sighed. He pictured Helsreach once more for the nineteenth time this hour. It had been ages since he had seen its twisted but beautiful horizons. He missed the rivers of molten lava, he missed its one spire city, but most of all, he missed his daughter. She was probably nearing seven years old, but he wasn’t even sure anymore. It had been almost seven years since he left her, and four since his wife’s death. Antonia. He still remembered her name. It was his last words to his wife,
“She shall be named Antonia, in honour of her grandfather.” He remembered the long kiss they shared afterwards, and feeling his wife’s tears on his cheek. He could still remember how soft and fine her hands were…He felt himself tearing up himself, and he cast the thought from his mind. He would have to wait until he saw his angel. He had waited a seven years, he could wait another year or two. Sadly, his astropath intercepted a message, one that practically screamed ”HELP US”. Of course he would have to once again tell his Regiment that they were going into war once more. They were all veterans, and all of them longed to see their wives and world again. But they wouldn’t.
“Ben, relay the message again.” He spoke to his second in command, a veteran and dear friend of his. Ben stirred and groggily opened his eyes.
“Wawasdatsir?...” His breath stank like amasec, and Henri recoiled as it hit him. Unlike the General, Ben went straight to the Generals ‘Only in extreme occasion cabinet’, opened it, and proceeded to empty half of the bottles. Henri was not inclined to stop him. Different people reacted in different ways to this news such as this. Henri’s was to reminisce about what he wasn’t going to see, some would sit and mope, but the majority would get whatever alcohol they could find and drain it.
“I said, get the transmission up again.” Henri said it louder than before, and Ben slowly rose to his feet and sarcastically saluted his friend.
“Yessir, if you don’t mind me drinking more of your brilliant beverages you have procured the past years…” He stumbled towards the console in the middle of the room, then punched in a couple of numerals and fell backwards into his seat.
“(Static) Payne of Crion. We are under attack, (Static) Orks unifying. (Static) Separatist scum. (Static) Heretics. We are deserate, our PDF is incapable of defending against all these threats. Any Imperial forces in the area, we beg of you to come to our aid. Coordinates follow…”
“Crion. Agri-world, lost contact with the rest of the Imperium about 7 months ago. Guess we can’t turn down a request from another Govenor gakking his pants now can we?” Henri rested his head in his hands.
“We could pretend we never heard it…” Ben was still trying to find a way out of the engagemet, but he knew Henri was never going to turn it down.
“Want me to tell the Commissar what you said?” Henri tried hiding the urge to laugh out loud as he saw Ben’s reaction.
“Commissar? Oh no, I never said anything! DontbeperposterousIdontknowwhatyourtalkingabout.” He hurried out of the room, only to burst into laughter a few seconds later. The laughter went on for about a minute, and was indeed very contagious, as Henri felt himself slipping of his chair. He had no idea why either one of them was laughing so much, but he welcomed it. Ben stormed back into the room and clutched his side.
“It-It-it huwts!” He collapsed to the ground and rolled side to side, in agony, but still laughing. Henri sat and cried tears of joy, as it was somehow funny to watch his best friend in so much self-inflicted pain.
Commissar Kurt Van Feineish ran into the room with his bolt pistol drawn.
“Sir is everything…alright?” He raised his eyebrows at the sight of the two grown men rolling on the ground like school-children. “Sir?”
Henri nodded to Ben, who slowly reached up and replayed the message once more. The Commissars face dropped as he realised they were going back to war.
Ben looked up at Kurt, and, inbetween bouts of laughter managed to say “That ole’ Govenor gone and shat his pants, and Henri here is sending us off to smother his face with it.” He barely managed to finish the sentence before laughter once again consumed him, and surprisingly, Kurt began laughing. They both stopped to stare at the spectacle.
“Can-can he do that?” Henri gestured towards the laughing Commissar, this being the first time either of them had seen it.
IT’S A MIRACLE OF THE EMPEROR!” Ben exclaimed and threw his hands in the air, and, once again, the contagious laughter spread through the entire ship.


Several hours later, and even more empty bottles of alcohol later, the trio became serious.
“Now, how do we tell the troops?” Ben asked, with the occasional hiccup inbetween.
“We, do not. You tell the men.” Kurt chuckled.
“What?! Why me?” Ben painckedly looked around at the other two.
“Because, you drank about three quarters of my alcohol. And I have no idea what happened to whatever I didn’t take off you…” Henri wasn’t displeased with Ben, he was just making his life harder. Good old fashion fun he thought. “Ah don’t worry, I’ll tell them. They deserve to hear it from their Commander, not some second rate thug.” He looked at Ben, who, surprisingly, didn’t take the joke badly.
“A second rate thug would never be able to hold his stomach as well as me.” He joked back.
“The Imperium would never allow a second rate thug into the Guard.” The Commissar tried his best at joking, but his lack of experience meant that he would be the target of comebacks very ofter.
“Then why are you here Commie?” Ben’s head lulled back and forth, obviously blind drunk, but that did nothing to stem the reaction from Kurt, who rose and struck Ben with his Bolt pistol.
“That is considered treason, Major. I would shoot you right now had the General asked.” He leaned in closer to the stunned and bleeding Ben. “Know your place.” He reached out and pulled the man back up, who appeared to have sobered up after the blow.
“Yes…Yes Commissar…” Ben reached up to the cut above his eye, and winced at the pain.
“Now that that’s sorted…What shall I tell the men…” Henri once again began thinking of a speech to lift the troops’ spirit.

Henri stood on a podium in the hangar bay of the Hopilite, a Endevour class light cruiser. He gazed upon the faces of the assembled troops, all were weary, all wanted to go home. He had to shatter those dreams now. He would now see the men and women he had served with the past six years with cry, curse and hate him. But, it was necessary. They would forgive him in time.
“Men, Women, all of you have served with me all the way. We have faced Xenos, Greenskins, and even the Horrors of Chaos. And we prevailed against all odds.” A cheer went up from the crowd, and several helmets were flung into the air. “We prevailed, and we should be going home to our wifes, our children, and whatever else you are into!” Another cheer went up, and even more helmets were flung into the air. “But we are not.” The noise drained from the hangar, all eyes were on Henri now. “Our lovers’ beds shall once again remain empty for another year. We have, once again been summoned to another planet. Wracked by insurrection, a Greekskin uprising, and possible chaos ” He saw the eyes around him tear up. Their faces contorted into a look of anger, sadness, and confusion. He continued. “We have been once again requested to aid this world. We are to go there, squash the rebellion, purge the Greenskins off the face of the world, and then we will leave. We will go back to our lovers, and there we shall stay, Emperor willing. But for now, we do the Emperors will.” Silence. Henri closed his one remaining eye. “I miss my family as much as any of you do. But, we cannot forsake our souls in exchange for some time with our families. Now, set course for Crion. Send word of our arrival and make sure the PDF is ready. We’re going to take out our anger on them, along with the Xenos and Chaos that taint that Emperor forsaken world.” The crowd infront of him shifted. It was a simple mission, they would arrive, kill whatever Xeno they could find, train the PDF, and they would leave. Shouldn’t take more than a month or two. Henri didn’t know how wrong he was.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/04/11 07:43:07


Post by: chazz huggins


The banner of the inquisition stood before the gates of outpost Cain, under it an army. The guards on duty did not hesitate to open the gates for agents of the Inquisition, they knew better. They quickly summoned Watch Commander Malcom Grayson and the officer quickly rubbed the wrinkles out of his uniform and rushed to the front gate to greet their unexpected guests.

Randall was already giving orders to his men as they entered Fort Cain’s courtyard. “I want those melta charges taken to the armory right away, I want the Penal camps set up outside the walls by nightfall, and would someone please fetch me Warden Hoffman.” Randall quit his string of commands when he saw Commander Grayson approach. Randall smiled and extended his hand to the confused Commander “Ah you must be Commander Grayson; I compliment you on such a well maintained bastion.” Grayson sook the inquisitor’s hand “I am sorry Inquisitor you have me at quite the disadvantage, I never received word that we would be visited by a member of the holy inquisition.” Randall laughed “My apologies Commander, I am Inquisitor Garrett Randall of the Ordo Malleus. You needn’t feel worried about not expecting our arrival we sent no word. You see discretion is one of our many weapons. Also I am afraid we are more than just visiting.” Grayson raised an eyebrow “Oh?” Randall looked over his shoulder to Commissar Alenko and gestured for him. The Commissar nodded and stepped forward unrolling a scroll and began to read “Effective immediately by order of the Inquisition; This bastion and its garrison being of vital importance to the Emperor, is until further notice under the direct command of Inquisitor Garrett Randall. Your complete compliance and nondisclosure is required failure to meet these standards is tantamount to heresy. We thank you for your cooperation in advance.” Commander Grayson was attempting to wrap his head around what he just heard, “Did you just take command of my station and conscript me and my men into the Inquisition.” Randall spoke “To put it bluntly yes, though I prefer the term deputized over conscripted.”

Grayson shook his head he did not like this news “Inquisitor I welcome you as an ally but…” Grayson stopped speaking and began listening to his com bead. He put his hand to his headset and began speaking “Well sink it.” A moment pass “Well fire it again.” A longer moment pass “What in bloody feth do you mean they’re having no effect their wooden boats they can’t stand against our artillery.” Captain Kid shook her head “Sounds like trouble, I’ll ready the men.” Grayson began shouting “Well hit them with the bloody Storm Shard then!” Alenko spoke “Their getting close.”

A dozen massive long boats paddled through the water towards the island of Gin. Artillery rained upon them but they could not penetrate the kustom Mega Force Field that one of the ships emitted around the wooden armada. Black sails and red iconography of a boot looming over a brain marked them as being under the command of Mad Dok Kavorkoz Da Pain Boss. Soon enough they were on the shore of Gin and the boarding ramps hit the beach, hundreds of ork boyz began charging for the out post, with wild and feral intention.

Commissar Alenko watched as the Inquisitorial Storm troopers, Penal legionaries, and PDF troopers formed ranks upon the bulwark of the out post. Alenko raised his saber and brought it down shouting “First rank fire, second rank fire.” Orks fell but the feral leapt over their fallen brothers and continued their war path toward the out post. The orks were only a few feet away from the gate, they charged with extra fury seeing their prize uncontested. Then in a flash of light Elevin heavily armored figures stood before them. Paladin Utilitarius raised his nemesis force Halberd and roared “For the Emperor.” The ten grey knight terminators returned the call and began unleashing their wrist mounted storm bolters upon the tide of green skins. The ork ranks nearly halved before they reached the Grey knights. The bladed battle between the orks and grey knights did not last for long. Dozens of orks fell as they met the force charged halberds of the Sons of Titans. Soon enough the green skins took enough losses to break their mob mentality. The survivors began hurrying back to their massive long ships, all the while taking more fire from the guards and battery mounted Storm Shard mortars. With the enemy gone the silver clad champions were away in another flash of the eye.

Commander Grayson looked to Commissar Alenko and asked “Who in the Emperor’s name were they.” Alenko looked over to the Captain and spoke “Remember that part about nondisclosure, that goes double for them. I suggest you forget about them Commander or the inquisition will make you forget, or worse.” Grayson nodded and watched as Randall approached. Garrett spoke holstering his plasma pistol “Now commander what was it you were saying before we were so rudely interrupted.” Grayson got to one knee and spoke “My men and my fortress are at your disposal Inquisitor.” Randall smiled “Good, I was worried I’d be forced to promote Lieutenant Gonzaga to watch commander.” Grayson forced a smile, he wasn’t entirely sure if the inquisitor was joking.

Spoiler:
Inquistor Randall has made it to Luna Epsilon and they get a good warm up against some of Dok Kavorkoz's orks before heading off to go fight some chaos.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/04/11 18:40:28


Post by: Palleus


The forest grew weary as the cannibalization of the hulk shard increased. The red glow of metal burned though the night as more of the village orks worked the line, eager to work for the promised reward of their very own set of iron armor, weapons, and a chance to conquer more land. Gort BadStomp stood on a makeshift lookout post above the work line and barked orders at the orks below. His hands, rendered useless after his incident at the duel, were now replaced with crude metal claws. They were a “gift” from Hannibal, along with a stinging reminder of what had happened before when the last time he attempted to kill Hannibal with his own weapon. Gort grudgingly went along with it. An ork without the use of his hands was of no use to any of the other tribes, and Hannibal was fond of using his loud mouth to keep the other orks in line. Gort decided that revenge over lost limbs would wait until a more opportune moment, and so he kept himself occupied by bellowing orders at the orks below.

Hannibal sat in his hut surrounded by metal plates. His dirt floor was gouged and scraped as the mek sketched hundreds of new inventions in the dust with his claw. A pounding came from his door, pulling him away from his newest design. Opening the door, Hannibal was greeted by one of vagabond commandos, covered in camouflage stripes and holding a metal javelin by his side. Hannibal waved him inside and sat down.

“You gots word from Guts? What’s tha’ Skull Eata’ camp like?”

“It’z big boss. Real big.” The commando began, sketching the outline of the fortress out in a pocket of unmarked dirt floor, poking points of interest with his javelin as he continued. “ ‘Dey gots metal bunkers, an’ lots’a boys with shootas an’ some real big shootas in towers all along ‘ere, an’ ‘ere.”

Hannibal’s eyes narrowed. “Shootas? How in mork’s name did ‘dey get all ‘dem shootas? Did tha’ metal comet hit ‘dere?”

“We didn’t see no metal comet frags, boss. But we did see somefink real intrestin’.” The commando leaned in closer, daring not to say it too loud. “Offworld’a greenskins.”

Hannibal leaned backwards, the spite in the commando’s voice was reflected in the mek’s face. Off-worlders here and now was bad timing for the Iron Horde. They needed to gather up more orks and boost their numbers, but an off-world boss would never willingly take orders from a feral ork, iron or no iron. Hannibal thought for a moment, studying the fortress sketch before finally looking at the commando again.

“Report back ta’ Guts. Tell ‘em ta’ see if we’z got a clearin’ near tha’ fortress. No less than five hundred squiggoths away, but don’ go more than’ a thousan’ away. An’ don’ get spotted by tha’ skull eata’s, gots it? We needs ta’ make sure dey’ don’ thin’ we’z a threat yet.”

The commando nodded, turned around, and walked out the door without a sound, a surprising feat, for a greenskin. Hannibal turned back to the floor, studying the fortress for a moment more before using his boot to scuff out some of his less favorable sketches. Humming a drinking tune to himself, Hannibal began to sketch again, and made a mental note to order the stockpiling of more squig oil when he was done.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Hidden in the trees, Guts looked down at the ever thickening patrols, his mechanical eye piercing straight though the night, and giving him a good view. Guts and his commandos had searched for a clearing, but it seemed the patrols where almost as thick as the jungle. Skull Eaters armed with boom sticks and off worlders armed with shootas showed up at every turn, and the team had to stop for fear of being detected more times than it was able to move on. As the last greenskin slipped out of view, Guts let out a sigh and shook his head.

“Das it boyz. We’z ‘eadin’ back.” Guts said, his hushed voice low in defeat.

“But boss, ain’t we supposed ta’ find a’ clearin’?”

“If ‘dere iz a clearin’ it, ain’t worth findin’. At tha’ rate we’z goin’, we’z gunna get found long before we finds any clearin’. An’ some clearin’ ain’t worth tradin’ our surprise for.”

“If you sayz so boss. But yer’ tellin’ tha’ big boss about it…”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Guts’ commandos braced themselves for the inevitable tantrum. It started as soon as they entered the Iron Horde’s turf, and their fears only worsened the closer they walked to Hannibal’s hut. Once they were in front of Hannibal himself, their muscles tensed and knotted as they readied themselves to run away at a moment’s notice. At the same time, however, they could not help but want to watch, certain of the torrential tantrum that would soon follow. Thus, they stood, ready to leap at the first sign of anger, but helpless to do anything but watch as Guts explained the situation. When he finished, Hannibal stayed still, only the hammering of iron and the grinding of teeth could be heard in the silence.

“Tha’ Skull Eata patrols didn’ have any shootas?” Hannibal asked, his eyes directly locked onto Guts’.

“Jus’ boom sticks, boss.”

“An’ yer sure ‘dey didn’ see ya?”

“We got out clean, boss.”

“Good, ‘den ‘dey don’ know we’z still eyeballin’ ‘dem. Get some more supplies ‘an patrol tha’ border. An’ grab Ace an’ his blackbloods while yer’ at it. We don’ wan’ tha’ skull eata’s or tha’ off worlder’s gettin’ any funny ideas before we’z ready.”

Guts turned and left, his commandos standing still a few moments longer before awkwardly following suit, unsure of what exactly happened, and waiting until they safely left the hut before muttering to themselves about Hannibal’s lack of reaction. Hannibal let them mutter, he was busy reshaping his mental plans. The clearing plan did not work out, but there were many other plots and schemes swirling in Hannibal’s mind. Perhaps this was for the best, he thought. The fact that the off world orks did not seem to share their technology with the Skull Eaters brought to mind a new scheme, one that may end in more surviving orks. And Hannibal needed as many orks as he could get for the Iron Horde to grow. If convinced to join the Horde, space orks could be valuable. His tribe was eager and willing to fight, but many of their minds proved too primitive for any weapon that was more complex than ‘point and shoot.’

And so he sat for hours, carefully inspecting each plan and calculating each possibility before he finally stood, a new plan in his mind and a gleam in his eye.

Spoiler:
A few minor victories/minor defeat in reconnaissance of the Skull Eaters. And Hannibal has been busy making things.



Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/04/11 21:18:07


Post by: jhe90


Trickster departs.

“Isles of Pratt, they not far off according to the maps we where suplied on the moon and nearby cities” Conan was sat in his office, Battle leader ment paperwork and even space wolves needed admin. “Aye floki. Easy flight, well within the range of a sormfang or stormwolf, ready your gear, depart soon as your fueled and there's a spare slot in the pattern”

“Conan you owe me one after this, try not to kill any contact reports! “ Floki relaxed, he was a senior wolf guard and easily had the rank and vetrancy to handle a meet and greet type job. But was conan sending him for a reason he did not know?

Wolf base

Volund was supervising the restoration of the space port and it's repairs, so much work to do and the hangers where's being repaired but days off weather tight, Radar was online and outer auto guns had power suplies now stable with the secondary grid working.

“So much fething work” grumbling ,two days straight work on the base by serf teams working in shifts where tired, hu!and could only keep the rate and secdule up before they made mistakes and would need to be swapped out. “Agmar tell team 12 to take a hour to rest, one nearly fell off a roof and another nearly broke a leg, swap with 11, run way is running ahead of plans and we need not waste lives”

“Aye my lord, il see to it” Nodding to Yarl Agmar, human but he knew his job well and was very good at it. Well not quite human he had passes selection and would of made a good space marine, yet fate had a different plan and he still served with honour. Yarl agmar headed to Jeep like buggy to take him to the chomand post, why he forgot to bring a vox man? The Jeeps vox was on the blink again, scavenged off the base they where junk when new and few decades of sitting in a garage had not helped, still beat walking.

To Pratt isles

The sea was stormy below as the gunship flew out towards the Pratt islands, nor roomy with its massive hell frost cannon, and missile pods but was fast and floki was not one to waste time flying a slow craft. Reading the digital map, one hour left on the flight despite the driving rain, in some ways this world reminded him of home as below a great group of sea borne animals broke the surface to breathe. Not quite a great kraken but one would still make a great feast on its own.

“Up 500 feet, get us over that stormline” a order met by a beep from the servitor auto controls, if it came to real flying Floki could fly this machine in far worse condition and weather without issue. Feneris wass a harsh planet but it's storms made ood training that few planets could ever match.

“This is claw Delta Charlie bound for the isles of Pratt, require permission to land on terms of parlay” Floki waited until the vox crackled and replied. “ claw delta Charlie, permission granted, pad sectus 9, welcome to the isles of Pratt. “

The landing was easy, the powerful engines were not fazed by the high winds and storm landing perfectly on the pad without trouble. Floki stepped down from the cockpit of his gunship into a stormy evening whilst a Marline escorted by a gleaming guard of escorts waited for him. They had more time to plan than they made out.

“Veteran Ardar, Emperors Hounds. Excuse the Captain, away at the event. I'm next full senior” A long scar across his face told of a past experience but the face was still welcoming to the spacee wolf. “Floki, wolf guard of Ulfric storm claw, my Lord too is away at the events, guess it's up to us to work this out. “

Taking in the space wolf. Twin lighting claws and a little shorter but had a sharp look about him that his blades where not the only sharpened weapon. This marine could be worked with and was not the idiot the chapter where made out to be by some. Next to him Emyr stood silent bearing sword and shield with his helmet secured revealing jet black hair and a oddly for the hounds clean shaven. “Excuse my guard he is always the quiet one but in security we all need a man we can trust”

With a exchange of nods the marines made there way to the chomand bunkers at the centre of the base and saluting the guards at the door leading down to the cool fortified levels where the chapter had made its home. The meeting chamber was Spartan but we'll equipped and hospitable. “So. MY bearded brothers outr chapters have rarely met, but the Wolves reputation proceeds you” “aye and yours to us, your chapters history is not as long but still worthy of telling and some strong reference to fearsome hounds of war, one day have to match one in test vs a Ferrasian wolf”

Ardar was laughing, the wolves seemed the type he could work with “aye but no cheating, people know of those legendary wolves the size of a rhino who stalk your planet. May be less fair “

Negotiations took a few hours to iron everything out between the two chapters and there respective members but left on good terms. “ aye see you at our mead hall, we always knows how to entertain a mighty feast of legends.. Grim joy welcomes your chapter “ climbing into the gunship Floki took control as the storm had picked up, this may just be a interesting flighty he thought as the gunship rose and took off into the brunt of the storm front he passed earlier now fully engaged and powerful. “This is floki, mission success over”

High queen moria placed the wax seal upon the terms of truce and alliance for the hounds, one chapter was useful, two more so. Marines where hard to sway however and take careful work. But a knight house was a might force to have at your side and her house would need allies. Floki handed the scroll to the hounds and passed on the loyal message to the hounds from house valorn, they would read and view it carefully go weigh its value.

Floki arrived back to watch the blood eagle leaving for the feast at the mansion, its bigger size was proving far more steady in the storms heart. Knowing Ulfric he would make a clear statement and maybe not go down well with the overly sensitive nobility, inquisition too, there presence was not entirely confirmed but the signs where obvious.

After the banquet (post chunk, due to timing this is two weeks work in one chunk)

Floki groaned from the pain of the shattered shoulder, not serious and he had survived worse but would have him off front line duty for a while. “Fething ork feels like I got shot all over again” Ulfric Storm claw looked on as conan applied the basic medical aid till they got back to grimjoy. “Locked the armour and sealed it to keep it steady till we can patch you up floki, im a wolf guards not a wolf preist. “ “conan, get security upgraded at our base, if they have the guts to attack there they could hit anywhere. Use whatever you need to. “ “aye lord storm claw I will get us secured, the northern bastian we can rebuild with time” Ulfric nodded his approval to the plan and sat in contemplation of the events and lords present. The knights would fly home once they had filed there reports with the inquisition.

Shocked by recent events, the party, its security and the orks managed to do so much damage. Yarl agmar was angry at the failings, angry at conplacancy and idiots. The knights where UN armed yet held there own vs the orks whose primal power and lack of fear was a potant combination.

Amanda valorn was looking down at her bronze armour now splattered with streaks of both red and green blood from the attack. The sword was clean and perfect as ever the power field never left a dirty blade, the sword, her oath. Maybe she should take Agmar up on that drink at the hall, could not be a worse idea than the chomando raided party, least her oath to defend her queen had been proven and set in blood, but blood was not just green but red.

Meanwhile sertf crews worked to rebuild the northern bastion section of the outer wall and others toiled to get the last few hangers secured as a powerful storm was incoming and the knights armsmen had been moaning of wet hangers and tools. They would of dphad a shock on feneris, this was every day weather on the coast. “Powerful one boss, cancelling all remaining flights out there” a vox oporator informed a senior serf “aye OK. Tell the crews to hurry on the Bastian north, I don't want to lose work or lives. Pull team 10 off break water by 17.00 at latest, teams 20-32, get the the control tower water tight asap, storm shutters if we can, boarding if not. “ taking to the order, the box crew began to issue orders to relavent teams. “Aye sir, all done, even braced though the outer bastian will have it rough. Yarl agmar already informed grey hunter sqaud dark wolves are pulling duty there tonight when it's at worst”

Spoiler:

Ok so yes put of sync. It's a older chunk and newer.
But finally done.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/04/12 00:40:00


Post by: War Kitten


Woten, Moon #1

Falkon walked around the massive form of the Knight Atrapos and winced as he gazed upon the vicious scars, gashes, and dents that had been left by House Valorn’s encounters with the feral orks of this dirt ball. While the damages to the House’s Knights wasn’t severe, it was still bad enough that it would take several days of repairs by the House’s Sacristans to restore them to prime fighting shape, which meant that the armsmen of Valorn had to step up to the plate. The enemies of Man would not wait, so neither could House Valorn. Queen Moira had already sent him a message, asking him to set a meeting with Wolf Lord Stormclaw so that he and the Lord could discuss how to deal with the Feral Ork problems on this moon. He glanced again at the damaged Knight and sighed. Despite all their training the Knights still had precious little actual combat experience, and it stood out to Falkon’s trained eyes. He and his fellow armsmen had reviewed the footage collected by the Knight’s onboard cameras in an attempt to learn how to best fight alongside the massive Knights, and despite the fact that the Scions worked well together, Falkon could still see all the little mistakes they made. A momentary pause here, a slightly too slow reaction there, to a Knight these didn’t mean all that much, but to anyone on the ground such things might mean death. Falkon sighed and clenched his power fist at his side as he completed his inspection. He would pass along the damage report to the Sacristans and then he needed to go talk to Sera about altering the Knight’s training routines, and the thought of talking to Sera made him blush for some reason. The two of them had been close ever since he had come to find himself in Valorn’s service a few years ago, but it was only recently that he found himself examining every encounter he had with her. He sighed and shook his head, he wasn’t going to examine his feelings right now, if ever, he had his duty to attend to. He just hoped that his duty kept him as far away from the Scions of the 85th as possible. While officially the Imperials who had fallen during what he referred to as the “betrayal” had been killed by enemy fire, Falkon and a select few others amongst the Valorn armsmen knew the truth. They had been betrayed, and Falkon wasn’t sure that he would be able to control himself if he got too close to those treacherous Scions again. He clenched his fists at his side again until his anger subsided. Maybe that was why he got along so well with the surviving Scions of Valorn, both of them had suffered terribly at the hands of traitors. With that thought he turned on his heel and began walking back towards the impromptu barracks that had been set up for his fellow armsmen in the city.

Spoiler:
Just some proof that I'm not dead. Just rather busy.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/04/12 12:15:04


Post by: 2BlackJack1


"Weez all gonna go a lootin'!
A lootin' weez 'ill go!
Nuttin'z gonna stop us!
Cause weez of BadToof an' wherever we go,
Skulls are cracked and loot iz towed!
Off to Gorehound's base we go!"

Gorgrim belched out a laugh, and fired his gun in the air, making enough noise to be heard over the roar of trukks. Snickering at the sudden noise, Grizby clambered up onto the trukk's dashboard, fiddling with a knife of bone in his hands. "Weze gonna get him good dis time, boss. Den youz kan have all dat scrap." Grizby said, looking up from his knife.

Gorgrim pounded a fist into the trukk, "I already know dat. But dis feral git is 'ard. But he ain't 'ard enuff. Not when we play tug of war wif him an' da trukks." Grizby snickered at the thought, and nodded enthusiastically. Getting to Gorehound's settlement wasn't hard, and neither was ramming his trukk though it's gates, dragging several orks underneath his tires as he charged forwards. The other trukks followed suit, and buildings and walls were crushed underneath their orky treads.

Gorgrim leapt out of the trukk, firing his skorcha into a group of grots that had rushed forwards, aiming to loot his trukk. Laughing, he yelled out "Fore!" And sent the last grot's head flying into a wall when he swung his thunda hammer into its terrified green face.

"An' don't ya grotz forget dat I'm in charge!" Gorgrim laughed, and loped forwards, hearing the heavy thumps of his nobz close behind him. Gorgrim had only spent a few minutes to find Gorehound, and the two circled each other, sizing up the other warboss. Both warbosses sheathed there weapons, preparing to beat the other into submission with nothing but their bare hands. "Ya still don't look dat big, Gorgit." Gorehound laughed, and lunged forwards, sending an uppercut at Gorgrim. Grabbing the feral warboss' wrist, he sent the fist downwards, making da Cook stumble forwards, and into Gorgrim's other waiting fist. There was a collective groan from Gorehound's gathering of nobz, and jeers and laughter from Gorgrim's. A kick into Gorgrim's leg ended their laughter, and Gorgrim felt his head collide with the ground. Before he could move, Gorehound was on top of him, punching into Gorgrim's head repeatedly with the weight of a mountain behind each hit.

"Zog. Off!" Gorgrim roared, and shoved the ork behind him, and tried to ignore that he felt several of his own teef missing. Taking several steps back, Gorgrim let Gorehound come to him, and sidestepped his lunge before stomping on the feral's chest. Laughing through coughs of blood, Gorehound grabbed Gorgrim's leg, and pushed upwards, sending BadToof stumbling over himself backwards. Again, da Cook came at Gorgrim, and he felt his side tear open as Gorehound swung at him.

"Dats a knife, ya cheatin' pansy!" One of Gorgrim's boys yelled, and soon the rest of the nobz were hollering and chanting, laughing and protesting the lack honor at the duel.

"No cheata' will be my boss!" One nob yelled.

"Dats how Mork would want it! Stab 'im again!" Another jeered.

The arguments came to blows, and Gorehound and Gorgrim found themselves in the middle of an all out fist fight. The pair never lost sight of each other, and traded blows in the middle of the sea of fighting orks. "Look out boss!" Gorgrim tore his eyes away from his opponent to see Glotzinga running towards him, his whirlagig soaked in blood, waving his arms and pointing towards an oncoming trukk. Gorgrim's trukk. It was a flaming wreck, and it plowed through the massive mosh pit and promptly exploded, sending limb and scrap in every direction.

Gorgrim staggered away, covered in blood and soot. "Me trukk. Da Smasha of Gork is gone!" He groaned, ignoring the burn marks across himself. Gorgrim heard fighting in the distance, but none close to him. The warboss knew that either he was the lone survivor of the crash, or the others had limped away, trying to clear as much distance as they could from the smoking ruins. And as much as it pained Gorgrim to admit it, Gorehound was too 'ard to die in that explosion. "But he ain't 'ard enuff for me." BadToof growled.

"Boss! Boss! Over here! I found somefink!" Gorgrim sluggishly turned his head, hearing a shrill voice. Grizby? He wondered, and a rock flew and hit him in the nose. Roaring in protest, he bounded forwards, only to find Grizby sitting on part of a broken war trak, throwing an apple into the air before catching it. Shaking his head, he throttled the grot, and picked him and and set Grizby on his shoulder.

"What do you want, you zogger?" Gorgrim rumbled.

"I found somefink. It's dat way!" Grizby said excitedly, entirely uncaring about Gorgrim's punch.

"Don't tell me where to go! I'm going dis way!" Gorgrim announced, drawing his weapons and heading in the direction Grizby pointed to. It didn't take long to find what got Grizby so excited, and even less time to hear it. Ork bones were being snapped, gunshots and rockets were being fired, and there came a deep, booming, metallic, yet also orky, laugh in the midst of it all.

"Dat's a Gorkin' deff dread!" Gorgrim said, and realized it was fighting Gorehound's orks, not his own. "An' it's on my side!" With that, he gave a cry of Waaaaagh and charged forwards, gunning down orks and hammering into their skulls.

"Who'ze you?" The deff dread rumbled, shearing another ork in half.

"Gorgrim BadToof, now, who are you?" Gorgrim demanded, shoving the barrel of his gun into an ork's eye before priming his skorcha.

"Killrod Deff 'Ead" it stated blankly, "an' I ain't no Killa Kan." With that, it simply charged forwards, smashing the final ork in the mob into paste before turning to Gorgrim.

"Gorgrim. You'ze fight good. Dat Gorehound boy ain't a boss. You is." Killrod said, his weapons moving idly around. Gorgrim grinned, liking where this was going.

"Come wif me, weze are gonna go back to me camp, get some dakka, and smash dis place ta bits. Loot it all."

"All?" Killrod said. "Let's go."

Gorgrim let out a belch of laughter, and throttled Grizby again, cutting off his statement of "I told ya so, boss."


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/04/13 08:22:57


Post by: chazz huggins


The streets of Cogger hive were filled with an unholy silence, the air was thick and reeked of blood, the only lights in the underbelly of the hive were stray vehicle fire and the las gun mounted holo lights of the troopers of 4892nd penal legion.

Arbitrator Halouck looked at the Auspex scanner implemented to his wrist. The small wrist mounted computer was the Arbitrator’s best means of keeping his charges in line as with a few simple button presses an arbitrator could detonate the collar of any of the prisoners under his command. Should an arbitrator die in the field command of his squad would transfer to another Arbitrator. Should the fight seem beyond hope an arbitrator might detonate the collars of his charges to ensure the enemy can not extract any information from them. However, this level security came at a cost as it was not unheard of bomb collars to detonate by mistake after being hit by a lucky bullet, or the collar’s anti removal feature might be trigger if a prisoner moves in an odd fashion. Still for all its flaws it ensured that the convicts were well behaved, well at least when near the watchmen was near.

3434 felt over encumbered by the darkness of this place, it reminded him too much of home. He watched 1597 advanced up the street with his las gun aimed forward. He took cover behind an advertisement display then waved the rest of the squad forward. They had been at this scouting for hours and had come into contact with nothing. From the looks of the place there had clearly been a war here, las burns and bullet scars on the walls and casings on the floor. 34 saw no one and heard nothing but still he could shake the feeling that he was being watched. The squad of convicts had reached their destination a small abandoned house.

An actual home in a hive is rather uncommon as most common under hivers lived in the massive hab block tenements, but this was once the abode of a priest of the Ecclesiarchy and he was afforded this luxury. This holy man’s house was to be outpost five of twelve to provide recon ahead of the rest of the inquisitorial forces, they would rejoin the main force once they began the operation to purge the hive.

1597 kicked the rotting wooden door open and 22 heavy boots came storming in checking everywhere for contacts. Arbitrator Halouk checked his scanner again before declaing the house to be clear. The arbiter began “3434 and 0351 you two have first watch the rest of you rest up.” Halouck heard a call on his micro bead, “Sir I think you should get a look at this.” Halouck headed upstairs to where 7387 had called him. As he entered the door he saw the back of the prisoner in front of him was an alter. 7387 with a grim look upon his face moved to unobscured the guard’s view. The stone table was a horrid sight, carved with chaos stars and coated in dry blood. But above the sacrificial alter hung 8 grizzly visages, and though without eyes could peer through souls of those who looked upon them. Halouck pressed at his com bead “5219 bring the flamer.”


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/04/13 12:59:44


Post by: Sgt_Smudge


Sunstrike Cadre moved on quickly from Nogrod's annihilation. The cadre had suffered very little casualties in the final battle, and the feral ork warband was destroyed. Sunstrike Cadre annexed their fortified lines out to cover the Blood Dragon ruins, with Fio'El Mirrorstone leading the archeological dig crews. Shas'O Skyhunter left the Tau to her own devices, and rallied the rest of Sunstrike Cadre.

Three strikeforces were assembled, tasked with investigating some of the key locations and notable sites Shadowbrand had scouted.
Closest of the three was a minor human hive on Indo-Cambria's west coast. Ros Hannoi, as the city was called, was the only real hive on Indo-Cambria, and would make a useful staging post for Sunstrike Cadre to solidify their survival on Crion. Skyhunter had made this clear - if Sunstrike were to hold onto their land, they would need to win over some natives and insert themselves into the Crionian society. 1st Reconnaissance Cadre, under Shas'vre Ghostwalk's command, had been tasked with establishing a beachhead and relaying data to the rest of Sunstrike.

The other location was far isolated from any other sites too. Shadowbrand had spoken of undersea cities, dwelling leagues under the sea surface. One of these cities, known as AHC-02, lay off of Kalhoon's coast. More protection from retribution Tau fleets or angry Imperials would be welcomed. To this end, Gue'vesa'El Vandred and his elite would be tasked with infiltrating and securing the entrance to the city, via hijacked Imperial bathyscaphes.

The third prong was the most hazardous. Far away, on the main Crionian landmass, Shadowbrand had reported numerous fortified points, fortresses and coastal defences. Black Water Bastion was one of the most infamous of these, and massive amounts of troops had been diverted to it. A perfect target - slow and single minded. Shas'O Skyhunter would lead a small kill team of Crisis and Broadside suits and one of the cadre's Riptide suits. Shadowbrand would accompany the elite team, alongside a team of her own Stealth suit veterans. They would have to lay low immediately.

In a manner of days, all three taskforces had departed from Cadre Command, leaving the bulk of Sunstrike under the command of Sub-Commanders Mirrorstone and Darkspear, with orders to hold at all costs.

Taskforce Alpha - Shas'vre Ghostwalk
The team's Orcas had landed just off the coast itself, with the frothy spume at their backs. Shas'ui Tsa'lan had hopped up the cliffside, with her full team of Pathfinders at her side. Harland and Ghostwalk were covering the squad from the base of the rocky slope. The Shas'vre had eschewed his Ghostkeel suit for the mission, this time clad in XV25 Stealth suit plate. His fusion blaster was unpowered, but his markerlight swept across the nighttime sky. His voice sounded in Tsa'lan's ear.
"Hold. Searchlight on your left. Find cover."

"There!" Harland lit up an opening in the rock face. The waypoint lit up on Tsa'lan's HUD, and she began to scurry to the tunnel.
No sooner had her men piled into the tunnel than a harsh, burning light swept across the mouth of it. The light kept moving, unaware of the Tau under it. One of Tsa'lan's Shas'la called her over. He was tapping against the end of the tunnel. His knuckle elicited a sharp metallic ringing. A hatchway. She grinned and raised a hand to her headset.

"Shas'vre - we've found a way in."

Two silenced blasts from Ghostwalk's fusion blaster turned the bulwark into molten slag, and the recon team proceeded into the tunnels. Judging from the fecund waste around their ankles and putrid stench swirling around their suits, this was a sewage network. They had swept the dank warrens for about half an hour before they made their first contact. Two sewage workers, toting flamethrowers and eradicating a sub-chamber of some kind of filth. The breathy hiss of their flamers and the amber glow of their fire could be noticed from all the way down.
Ghostwalk nudged Tsa'lan.
"Shas'ui, clear the way." She raised her pulse carbine halfway before Vandred stopped her.

"Wait. Let me speak to them and see if we can find a safehouse in the city."

Ghostwalk growled in frustration. "Human, you are at risk of jeopardising the entire operation. If this backfires on you, you will suffer for it."

"Understood, Shas'vre." Harland muttered. "Right, Terral and Ahzair, come with me. Remove your helms and strip off your main armour plates." All three of the humans stripped down to their fatigues, bereft of their few armoured plates, and waded towards the sewage workers.
"Hail, friends!"
Harland's voice echoed through the tunnels. The two workers halted, and turned their guns on the three Pathfinders. Ghostwalk indicated for one of the railgun bearers to prepare a shot.

"What? Who are you? Why are you down here?" The first worker blurted out. "This is a contaminated zone!"

"We got lost, about three days ago," Harland blathered. "We've been waiting for someone to come and get us since!"

"Oh yeah?" said the second. "Why were you down here?"

Ahzair took over. "We were out for that bounty on them orks. Couldn't find none."

"And what would you kill them with, eh?" The flamers hissed menacingly. Harland moaned internally, and pulled out his bonding knife. His comrades did the same. He handed them to the workers. The turned the blades over in their hand. "Say, where did you get these? These look awfully like their from-"

"Ultramar!" stammered Harland. "From Sotha, believe it or not. We're bounty hunters, you see."

"Why didn't you say so!" The worker burst into laughing. "That would explain your accent as well." Harland baulked - he had forgotten his developed Tau accent. He masked over it with a smile. Judging from Azhair and Terral's expressions, they had too.

"You do seem to like those knives there." Harland pointed out. The workers nodded, running the blades over their palms. Harland knew that to give up one's bonding knife was a grave sin, but pragmatism took over. "You know, we've actually missed the rent on our accommodation by now. If we gave you those knives, you wouldn't be able to put us up somewhere, would you? Purely temporarily, of course."

One worker turned to the other. "Actually, we were just talking about a small property my in-laws left behind. Killed in the tunnels or something, I don't know. Instead of writing it off, I'm sure you fellers could hole up in there. I've got the key right here, just take the tunnel left behind you, take the right turn, and the entrance is above you. The city should be asleep, most of our Arbites are patrolling the coastal front. They think they found something, you know?"
Harland gave a quizzical expression, and motioned for the worker to continue. "Of course, it's two streets down, past the Statue of the Angel Sanguine, and take the left alley. Number 21, I think."

"Thank you for that, friend," Harland shook his hand, as per human custom. "You have no idea how grateful we are."


Taskforce Sigma - Gue'vesa'El Vandred
"Ready weapons!" Vandred's voice bounced around the interior of the massive brass sphere.

Vandred's detachment was rapidly descending through the water, moving further and further away from the sun. The initial insertion had gone well, with Vandred's Orca hovering above the floating dock and disgorging two Breacher teams and some Pathfinders. The few dock workers were no match for the Tau soldiers, and their bodies were tossed overboard. Claret liquid oozed out into the ocean.

The three squads clambered into the bathyscaphes and plummeted through the bloody water. Through the reinforced pexi-glass window, Vandred could see AHC-02. Bioluminescent bacteria swarmed in nutrient cages, illuminating the outer dome. Kelp farms and geo-thermal vent stations sprawled out of the main structure, forming a vast network of structures on the ocean floor. The bathyscaphes drifted on their logic engines, with automated servitor pilots directing the brass orbs through the silvery water. Docking clamps engaged, and the craft began depressurising. Vandred whipped out his pulse pistol and power sword, and prepared for heavy resistance.
The lock hissed open. The Breachers' fingers clamped on their triggers.
The hatch swung open.

Nothing.

Air swept between the two rooms, and the Tau spilled out into the empty hallway.
"Spread out, lock down a beachhead." Vandred barked orders as he strode over to some form of console. "Fio'Ui Jul'tan, see what you can find."
Vandred's Earth Caste assistant withdrew a drone from his pack, and began tapping across the surface of the panel. After a few taps, Jul'tan punched the metal, and pulled off the panel, revealing a multitude of wires and gas tubes. His drone swept in, and spread a mass of mechadendrites over the wires. In a matter of seconds, a screen above Vandred lit up.

Several dozen live footage images popped up. They showed one of two things - empty streets and blowing debris, or furious battle scenes. Both forces were human, blasting down fire lanes and behind makeshift barricades at eachother. Vandred's helmet AI scanned some of the fighters. Their suits had a match to data Shadowbrand had found out earlier.
The Tillers.
The loyal elements of the Governor's troops were repelling the rebel Tillers, but both sides were running out of ammunition. Lasgun packs were being depleted faster than they could recharge, and many soldiers were blasting down the bullet-strewn streets with antique slug-throwers and carbines. The flames of Molotov cocktails and other firebombs still fanned the heat of the war. Vandred grinned under his helm.

"Keep your heads down. Pathfinders, spread out and find a place for us to lay low." The dozen scouts dispersed into the depths of AHC-02. Vandred turned to his assistant. "Jul'tan, contact Cadre Command. Tell them to muster all of their own weapon stock and prepare it for delivery."


Taskforce Ultra - Shas'O Skyhunter
Skyhunter hunkered down close to the edge of the crops. Black Water Bastion's guns had remained levelled at Indo-Cambria, waiting for more ork invaders. They'd never thought to look up. Skyhunter's taskforce had dropped from high altitude, before activating their retro-thrusters and plummeting into a nearby field. In the dead of night, the Crisis Suits were nigh undetectable. Behind the Shas'O's vanguard, two Broadside suits and a Riptide had been abandoned, their pilots remotely sweeping the area with their marker drones. Skyhunter whispered into the team comm channel.

"Anything to report?"

"No patrols, commander. Just a small farmstead up ahead, inhabited. An elderly Gue male."

"Do they pose a threat?"

"No, commander. Permission to mark for shot?"

Skyhunter increased his magnification, and watched the farmer squatting outside his house. He was old, sending up plumes of smoke from a worn pipe. Next to the house, a large barn stood forlorn. Judging from what he could see, he reckoned it would be able to hide the deactivated Riptide suit until was needed, and from unwanted Imperial patrols. It was only a matter of taking the barn for themselves.
Skyhunter looked again at the old man. They could kill him easily. A fusion blast would incinerate him, leaving nothing but ash on the wind. No Imperials would ever know, nor would they care about the fate of an old man a mile out from their fortress walls. They never looked out for their own. It would be so easy.

"No."

Skyhunter rose up from the crop and flew silently towards the man. His thrusters, silent as the wind, held him mere feet above the earth, carrying the commander aloft on the air. The man never noticed, until Skyhunter's feet clattered onto the wooden decking. The man spun around, and regarded the flat black flanks of Skyhunter's Crisis suit. His face dropped, but his eyes maintained contact with the suit.

"Have you come to kill me, creature of darkness?" His voice was cracked, ancient.

Skyhunter's voice was hard, forged of steel and iridium. "Not necessarily. We mean you no immediate threat."

"Then what is it? Speak, and let this be over with."

"I want your co-operation."

"My land, ain't it? Everyone wants my land. The soldiers outside, always demandin' my tithe be increased. Comin' in and takin' my food off my table. Stealin' bad crops, and blamin' me when it makes 'em puke." He sighed. "I ain't got nothin' left for you, creature. So you may as well kill me now."

"We're not after your land. And if you help us, no human will be asking for your crops any more. We have come to liberate you."
The man tottered to his feet and gave a salute to Skyhunter. The Tau gave a bow of respect and gratitude. In the moonlight, Skyhunter could see silvered streaks falling down the man's face.
"We'll help with your crops. Just let us hide in your barn there, and forget about us. Your crops will be cleared by the morning. No-one will bother you again. On that, I swear."


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/04/14 02:43:43


Post by: TheEyeOfNight



++CRION//BLACKWATER BASTION++

“Throne!” Commander Kass shook his head, tossing the data-reader onto the small conference table. He sat back with a huff, and snatched up a steaming recaf cup. “Emperor take these blasted heretics! Turned the whole Hive Cogger into an ork-loving hellstorm.”

He realized too late that one of his aides was trying to gesture towards the door. “Sir.”

Isaac stood there, dressed in a fresh captain's uniform. The PDF at Blackwater had been more than willing to accommodate the “Crazy Coggers” into their base, if only because it meant more rest between guard shifts. Whispers still followed them everywhere, and opinions varied between those who thought they were cowards for fleeing, and those who thought they were insane for still existing after that attack. The truth, of course, was more complicated, but the Crazy Coggers had melded quite well with the camp in the meantime.

Kass waved him in. “Aw hell, Venier. Didn't see you there, get some recaf.” The commander gestured to the nearby steaming pot, and 'Captain Venier' followed with a nod.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Didn't mean to insult your hive or nothing, it's just,” The big man shrugged, trying to think of something eloquent. “I'd wanna bust some skulls if it were mine, you know?”

Isaac paused and nodded, suppressing the distinct visual image of cracking the Commander's head open with the recaf dispenser as he poured himself a cup. “I think I do, sir. I think I do.”

“And get this 'arch-heretic' sort.'” Kass tapped one of the readers, and a decent representation of Father Lazarus flickered to life, pieced together from reports and rumors. It was good picture, strong and heroic, the way rumors were supposed to spread. “'Arch-bloody-heretic'. Haven't heard that phrase on Crion since...well, since never.” He took a sip of recaf and grimaced hard, at either the flavor or the reports in his hand. “Stories are preposterous: killed a greenskin chief, wears an old colonel's coat...I supposed he gaks lightning and spits lava too. You get a look at this scum when you, you know, took off, Vernier?””

Isaac allowed himself a slight smile at the commander's evasion of the words 'fled', 'retreated', and 'ran'. It also helped suppress the proud smile he wanted to express as his eyes tracked over the reports. Word was spreading about the Battle of the Maw, and Lazarus' story was becoming legend among some of the more volatile hives.

“Yes, sir, I think I might have caught a glimpse.”

“Well, Scions'll pulp them soon enough. And what the Scions don't get the Astartes will.” The commander set down his cup and made the sign of the Aquila as he mentioned the Marines. “And if there's anything left after that, word has it we've got a fething Knight house on-world. I tell you boys, the whole thing's going straight to the Warp.” He lifted his cup in a toast, and the aides joined him in a toast. “Just be glad it's nowhere near us.”

Isaac raised his cup, and delivered his most winning smile as he considered the absolute irony in that statement. “Let's hope it stays that way, sir.”



++LUNA EPSILON//MT GORGON++

The sun was beginning to lower in the sky, casting a reddish glow over Mount Gorgon in the evening haze. The wind had died down, making the journey across harsh rock mildly more comfortable, at least for Pine. The young rebel was wrapped in a tattered red sheet to protect himself from the wind, and had no other assigned task than to keep his eyes open.

His partner, Caleb, lagged behind him, lugging a large backpack with a series of antennae sprouting from its back. It was an old mining sensor, but to call it an auspex would have been an insult to an entire generation of Mechanicum. It was a simple high-freq sonar, pinging the rocks to look for weaknesses, any place that fortifications might dislodge part of the mountainside. Hive Cogger was a burning corpse, and the Brotherhood would soon need to find another place in which to station themselves.

“More caverns.” Caleb sighed, flexing his shoulders to try and work the aching out of them. “We should forget fortifying the place, could just hide inside for an eon or two.”

“We're not hiding.” Pine shot a venomous glare at the planet hanging above them, pulling his makeshift cloak tighter as he felt a sudden chill. “We're waiting. Waiting for Father to give the word.”

Caleb scoffed, and released one strap of the sensor, letting it drop to the rocky ground beneath them. It made a satisfying clunk, and he rested heavily on a nearby rock. “We're wandering around a mountain to kill time, Pine. When it starts to get dark, we'll return and tell them what they already know.” He spread his arms to gesture to the entire mountain. “It's a rock.”

The sensor began to squeal, flashing like a wildfire as the ground suddenly trembled. The little machine's pinging sounds became more and more frantic, as the cavern beneath their feet suddenly filled with solid mass. The rock under them suddenly glowed red hot, the heat spreading like water under their feet. Their screams of pain were cut off in a deafening roar as the mountain erupted open, and something clawed its way out.



++LUNA EPSILON//HIVE COGGER++
Jael cupped the blue flower in her hands, idly brushing the petals away from the center. Beneath those, a set of smaller and more vibrant blue petals were growing outwards.

“That's why we say these never fade.” She smiled softly. “The new blossoms grow inside the old, and replace them once it's time.”

“That's fascinating, Jael.” Mordecai gritted his teeth in frustration, tossing aside another series of pages. He was beginning to regret asking her about Crion's people, but as one of the few members of the Brotherhood who came from the Legion and were not recruited, it behooved him to know his new territory. “I suppose you make some hallucinogenic tea out of them to see the future too?”

She shot him a glare and set the flower aside. “No. We believe in omens, not forced visions. Strange weather, shooting stars, even some animals. There's a bird-”

A sudden and alarmed shout from outside the chamber cut her off. In a heartbeat, both of the rebels were on their feet, Jael with her knife and Mordecai with his shield, dashing out to the grand balcony overlooking the hive below. A group of cultists were gathered at the edge, pointing excitedly towards the horizon.

A serpentine shape, small from this distance, wound its way into the sky, twisting and rising on great wings. Fire exploded from its mouth, illuminating a tortured and blackened countryside below, where the smoldering remains of an outpost lay below. It took Mordecai a long moment to realize he was looking at a dragon.

He felt a sinking pit in his stomach, and inclined his head towards Jael. “Any idea what kind of omen that is?”

Sudden laughter, a hoarse bark of mirth, caused them both to spin around. Lazarus stood in the doorway, leaning heavily on it but still standing. His torso was covered in yellowed bandages, many of which were still moist with blood. His skin was pale, but he was smiling: a genuine, pleased smile that he had not worn for some time. The fact that the sorcerer A'Khel, in all his arrogant knowledge, had not forseen this unique turn of events amused him to no end.

“A dragon, waking from a deep sleep, breathing fire on an unsuspecting world.” He lifted off the doorway, and limped forward with his malicious smile growing. “I'm going to say it's a very good omen.”



Spoiler:
So apparently I woke up a dragon after rolling a defeat exploring Mt Gorgon. Oops. Also, Isaac made it into this episode, so he gets paid


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/04/14 14:16:57


Post by: Palleus


Avarquell, Cambria

IronGore trudged through the jungle, followed by the groaning of wagon wheels and disgruntled orks. Soon the tree line broke way for the Skull Eater’s fortress. IronGore silently motioned forwards, as five large wooden wagons creaked forwards, filled to near overflow with barrels of ork grog. The company of orks silently moved towards the fortress gate, machine guns slowly following them, and a look of determination in IronGore’s eyes. He waited until they were close to the gate before finally shouting to the battlements.

“Oi! Ya guard gits! Open up! It’s IronGore!”

“IronGore, eh?” Came the reply as the guard leaned over the battlements. His gleaming armor, and gun in his hand made it clear that it was an off-world ork. “I ain’t eva’ herd of no IronGore. I don’ remember you bein’ one of tha’ tribe.”

“ ‘Cuz Neroz had me locked up in tha’ arena, ya git!”

“An’ how’d ya get out?”

“Some runt decided he wanted ta’ be tha’ new boss. Dey wrecked tha’ arena, and me an’ my boyz got Neroz’s good grog. Figured, we’d give it ta’ da’ Boss Skull Eata’ if he lets us back in.” IronGore said with a chuckle, patting one of the hefty barrels.

“I ain’t lettin’ ya get in ‘dis place. It’s tha’ Big Boss’ orders.” The answer was resolute. As unmoving as the fortress walls.

“ ’Den let me talk ta’ Boss Skull Eata’, an’ he’ll give ya tha’ orders!” Barked IronGore, starting to lose patience.

“I says I take orders from da’ Big Boss! An’ Skull Eata’ ain’t tha’ big boss. So I says you betta’ turn around an’ git yerself outta ‘ere before I gets too trigger happy, an’ start usin’ you an’ yer’ boys fer target practice!”

IronGore stood, glaring at the guard, and eyeing the many guns still aimed at him and his boys. Then, with a final grunt, he turned around, motioning for the wagons to follow.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Grim, Cambria


Back in the safety of Hannibal’s tribe, the wagons came to a halt. A disgruntled groan came from one of the barrels before the top of it flew off, and Gort BadStomp climbed out.

“ ‘Dat waz a waste’a time!” Gort “We gets stuffed in tha’ barrels for nuffin!”

“Shut yer zoggin’ mouth, Gort.” Came Hannibal’s reply as he knocked the lid to his barrel aside. “Lest ya wanna’ get zapped again. ‘Sides, it wasn’t a whole waste. We still got tha’ good grog.” He said, slapping one of the barrels, and it giving a satisfactory slosh in return.

“Be better if we gots ta’ drink it…” Gort muttered as he climbed out of the barrel. As the two Nobs set their feet on the solid ground, many of the other barrels began to come open as ironclad ork upon ironclad ork spilled out, grumbling and stretching. Only half of the barrels remained unopened, sloshing about as the orks dropped to the ground.

“Not a bad idea, Gort.” Hannibal said, stroking his chin. “Tha’ boyz deserve it after that long of a haul. What do ya say boyz? Get tha’ wagons back to ‘da hall, an’ ‘ave a good drink on me.”

A chorus of grunts of agreement and a small cheer came from the boys as they began pushing the wagons towards the tribe’s hall. Even Gort allowed himself a small smile, showing the stubs where new teeth were growing, before following the wagons.

“Ain’t you comin’?” He asked, noticing that Hannibal stood still.

“Nah, I gots otha’ fings ta do.” He said, halfway lost in thought, before walking towards his workshop, new schemes and ideas circulating in his mind about how break Skull Eater fortress.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/04/14 19:04:44


Post by: The_Grey_Knight


The two masques reached Torcan before anyone knew what was happening, though the clowns made a ceremony of their arrival. The lower level that they arrived at had no guards, just civilians and they died in suitable gory fashion. Nysshea was at the for front of the attack, and made sure of her promise. The first victim was an adult male, and he was kicked to the ground, where the Death Jester proceeded to cut out his spine. Still holding the bones, she darted forward, strangling the next human with the spine. She gutted a women he crouched over her baby, which Nysshea tore apart spectacularly, and proceeded to use the women's intestines to hang her next victim, tying the end of the organ to a vent in the ceiling. And this wasn't even the most gory death in the hive. The Silent Shroud were methodical, killing as quickly as possible down the centre of the hive, but the Reaper's Mirth were revelling in the bloodshed. Humans were crucified, pinned to the walls with their families jagged bones and fathers awoke from an illusion to find not a Harlequin impaled upon their blade, but their own children. The streets literally ran with blood, ankle high, and gore was pasted to the walls and ceilings, painted into images of ironic tortures and of Cegorach.

Nysshea stepped forward, stepping over corpses. She shoved her fingers into a man's eye sockets, watching the man scream in agony as his eyes ran down his face, like vile tears. She then broke his legs , leaving him to starve to death in darkness. As his screams reached a crescendo, she couldn't restrain a giggle at his pain. Dancing over his screaming form, she stalked towards an old woman crouched in a doorway, kicking her in the ribs and enjoying the way they cracked under her foot. Then, punching her hand through the women's chest, she squeezed her heart and tore it out of the ragged hole in the human. The women's eyes widened at the site of her own heart, and Nysshea had a sudden urge to bite it. Raising the organ above her head, she let the blood fall into her mouth, tasting it, before taking a little nimble of the muscle. It wasn't bad. Flashing a bloody and feral grin at the lady, she tore a giant chunk out of the heart, taking time to chew it and taste it all. Dropping what was left of the heart, she moved on through the hive, enjoying it immensely.

Sheagoresh had its own performance, however. A small group was mounting a defence, the Tillers of Horratio Paynne. They were up a few levels, and Sheagoresh was headed there now. Running along impossibly fast, he didn't even break stride to cut down the humans in his way. It wasn't long until he reached the futile defence, Harlequins already amongst them. Clumsy autoguns fired at the Solitaire, but it twisted through them, laughing at how slow they were. And then it was amongst the humans. Whirling around, it cut them down without remorse, too fast for their human eyes to keep up with. They had no use to it, they knew nothing. It was only interested in Horratio.

Sheagoresh left the other Harlequins to deal with the them, running along the walls in a feet impossible for even other clowns. Into the heart of Tiller territory. The first he came across were nothing but grunts, a second layer of defence. They died. He cut them down, dancing through. Half of the humans died from their own autogun shots. Moving on, it walked through the hallways, slaughtering everyone in its path. Eventually, Sheagoresh came across Sergei Zekva,
one of Horratio's lieutenants. Sergei was, in fact, the one who started the fight, charging forward, and swinging a giant machete. Sheagoresh, twisting round to avoid the blow, felt a kick suddenly connect with his stomach. So the human had some fight. The Great Clown waited for the enforcer to strike next, before ducking under the wide sweep of the blade and slamming its shoulder into Zekva's groin. He staggered back, and the Solitaire didn't let up, surging
forward with a lightning fast strike of its hand that tore through the man's stomach like it was nothing. Falling to his knees, the man tried to lift his blade, but the Harlequin was already behind him, pushing the Kretchma to the ground with his foot. It was then that something caught its eye. A letter, tucked into the back pocket. Reaching down, the clown pulled it out, reading the crude human language sprawled across the paper. It regarded a Tiller operative
called Seeder, who was relaying orders from a man code named Red Omen: "Red Omen’s orders are to fortify sector 83-19 and 47-02, keep secure no Bleeders or Kretchmas until we can negotiate a more permanent alliance, we will need them for when we assault the upper hive. Seeder." Red Omen was most likely Horratio, and Sheagoresh thought that if they could find Seeder, they could find Horratio, if he was close enough to be relaying orders. Still clutching the note, Sheagoresh moved out, searching for more victims. They were here for slaughter after all.

The two masques left no one alive on the bottom floors. The hallways echoed with screams of agony, and the hive was pasted in human, decapitated heads lining the streets which were slick with gore. And yet even as iron willed guards despaired at the genocide, laughter rung through Torcan, chilling its remaining occupants of the top floors to the floor. It told them that though the PDF guards kept watch now, they would die. And it would be a specticle.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/04/14 22:44:10


Post by: Bobthehero


----- City of New Pavus, slums -----

The five man team had been scouring the city for a few hours now, and had found very little. The name of a local tavern had come up a few time, and it was about time to eat anyway, so the Scions figured they'd kill two Xenos with a lasbolt and headed to the Emperor's Saloon. Food and drinks were decently prized and the Scions enjoyed their first beer in a long time, all the while keeping an eye for stranger follks.

'' On your right Garvel, don't turn back, guy with some bodyguards, most likely, you see him Mallear? ''

The Scion nodded and added

'' I think I see stripes, we'll have to get closer, too many people walking around ''

Garvel stood up

'' That beer went down too well, gotta use the facilities ''

The man stood up and walked by the suspect table, noting his rank and catching little of the conversation, news of an Hive and nothing else, nothing good. Garvel went back to his table a minute after and updated his comrades.

'' He's a major, he's also wearing the sloppiest dress I've ever seen for an officer of his rank, especially considering there's not much going around here, also mentionned an Hive, but at this point, it could be anywhere ''

Praetia answered

'' Then we'll figure that out later on, I think this is a good chance for us to progress, update the Tempestor and try and act like civies, this guy's gonna notice right away we've got training if we don't hide it right ''

Another Scion left for the facilities, relaying the informations to the Tempestor Secundus back at the cache.

'' You have my go '' said Mallia over the vox '' Try and avoid confrontation, this is our only good lead, I'd rather that guy stay alive until Payne's dead ''

The Scion sat back and nodded

'' Another drink then, take shots, and play the part of the refugee drinking liquid courage ''

The team made its way towards the major and were stopped a meter or so away from him. Mallear had to supress a smile, sloppy work, they were well within range to take out the guards before they could fire a shot. But that wasn't their intention and everyone looked down like a pack of scared dogs. One of the guards made a move to shove them away from his officer, but he was interrupted.

'' Leave e'm be, will you? Seems they been through enough, they don't need the last bastion of hope kicking them away ''

'' Las-la-last bastion of hope sir? '' asked Garvel

'' Relax kiddo! Sit down, have a beer, I am Major O'Connell or was, officially, but I kept my rank under the new administration! Ah! ''

'' You mean... the uh... Tilters? ''

'' Tillers my good lady ''

Garvel and Praetia looked around

'' Aren't you afraid to proclaim that outloud? ''

'' Here? Never! The Imperium has no power in this tavern! But enough about me, what about? I've been talking and talking, but perhaps I am talking to the wrong people? ''

'' We're from uh Luna Espilon, city of Arcadis Bay, too many Greenskins, not enough Imperial ''

The Major raised an eyebrow at the answer

'' That's... rather far away, you walk that all by your five selves? ''

Praetia shook her and looked at the Major with sadness in her eyes

'' There were more of us, but we left our home with nothing but what we could carry, no map, we got lost, many died, we were the lucky few ''

O'Connell grunted

'' Uh... uh, that would make you ridiculously lucky, in fact, almost too lucky one would say ''

'' Lucky enough to join ya? We got no possesions, no nothing, the Emperor has abandonned us... '' whinned Garvel

'' Well we're always looking for new recruits, and your travel seemed to have shaped you very well. We shall celebrate with a pint! '' O'Connell looked at one of his guard and waved him away. The man came back a few minutes late with enough beers for everyone. The Scions took theirs and the atmosphere was noticeably lighter, it was at that moment that Mallear asked O'Connell why'd he join. The Major scowled and everyone felt the unease of the man.

'' Before I joined up with the PDF I was just some hiver scum from Katagor. I remember being hungry, fighting other children for scraps of moldy bread. I was strong enough to make it out of the hive and into the PDF but few were so fortunate. Once I a had the false honor of attending Supreme Lord Fat Ass’s parties. Mountains of food, ten times what the party goers could eat. They ate near none of it and just threw it all out, fething nobles. Crion produces more food than any other Imperial world, so why is it that there are children starving in the underbelly of the hives? The problem starts and ends with Tobias Payne. You see no governor before him has had starvation, no governor before him had demanded such high tithes from the people, we suffer and he smiles atop his ivory tower. When I heard the legends of the long lost bastard Horatio, being a man of the people, promising to restore a fair and equal tariff and end our decades of suffering, I had to see for myself. What I saw was a man worthy of command, a man I’d be honored to fight and die for. So told my captain he could shove and joined up with the Tillers, no regrets no matter what ''

Garvel and two of his comrades played the part of the outraged civilians and took a long sip to move the conversation away.

'' What about the man that leads all this? You mentionned Horatio, but we don't know much about him! ''

'' Aaaaaaaah! Horatio, now THAT'S a leader I'll follow to the warp and back. He's close to his men, sometimes even lead raids agaisnt that waste of human flesh the Imps call a Governor. You should see him on the field! A leader of men through and through ''

'' Oh... seems like quite the man indeed, can't wait to meet him! '' said a Scion

'' That'll be complicated, not everyone just knows where he's going, and even if you join us, you'll be at the bottom rung, there's little chance you'll be able to come across him ''

'' Bah, we've been lucky so far, weren't we '' and the group laughed and drank more of their alcohol






Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/04/15 00:00:22


Post by: Tactical_Spam


"My lord, he has locked himself in there," a human whispered to Zehk's second-in-command, a Night Lord Apothecary who only went by 'Witch Doctor.' He was a scrawny creature, even for an Astartes and walked with a limp despite not having a combat injury. He had long, oily black hair that always covered his face apart from his mouth which was always pulled back in a shrill grin. He spoke in a hysterical tone that often left those who had been in his company with a sick feeling deep inside.

"And?" the Witch Doctor spoke in a tone that could be gravely mistaken for happy. It was imperative that one did not assume the Witch Doctor was happy less they wished their organs to be used in his ritualistic medicines. Being prone to dramatic mood swings, it was best not to remain in close proximity with the Witch Doctor either. His voice quickly became a hiss, "What am I supposed to do about it?"

"Lord Orelius-"

"He is on his ship! He is not here... In this... Mausoleum," the Witch Doctor said in a hushed tone as if he was about weep. He bowed his head and hid his face with his hands.

"My lord..." the human started nervously before the Witch Doctor's spastic laughter cut him off. The Witch Doctor waved the human away and approached the vault door Zehk hid behind. With a soft tap of his knuckles against the Ceramite of the door, he drew Zehk's voice out from within.

"She is coming..." Zehk whispered over the vox, his frantic voice trailing off, "She's in my head, brother... I can't make her leave."

"Who, Zehk, who is in your head," the Witch Doctor inquired, whilst looking for a way to open the the vault door. It was not a coincidence that the Witch Doctor served as Zehk's right hand. Zehk was prone to daemonic possession and the Witch Doctor was a master at exorcisms via rituals and incantations, thus granting him the name "Witch Doctor."

"The Hunter... She hides in the shadows... They all do!"

"Calm down, my Lord. I need you to open the door so I can help you."

"NO!" Zehk roared over the vox as the rest of his motley crew came to join the Witch Doctor at the door, "They are coming! Keep them away!"

The Witch Doctor slammed his fist into the vault door. They would need a Chainfist or a High-powered Las-torch to open the vault from the outside and that would take a considerable amount of time, something they would soon not have. An Astartes from Zehk's crew informed the Witch Doctor that foul Daemons were prowling the ship and they picked up on the scent of the trespassers. Before the Witch Doctor could make the call to abandon Zehk until they had enough equipment to open the vault, one of the humans came running with news that the dead, both Astartes and human had began to rise. They would have to get Zehk now or he would be lost forever. If Zehk was killed aboard this blasted vessel, Orelius would surely have the Witch Doctor's head. With that imagery firmly planted in his mind, the Witch Doctor formed Zehk's crew into a solid firing wall, ensuring that any creature, alive or dead, would have to wade through hell to get to the vault. It did not take long for the first abomination to shamble into view. Its body was decayed almost to the bone and was covered by an impossibly black cloak. It opened its mouth and emitted a banshee-like howl before hurling itself towards the Renegades. After a hundred rounds had pierced its skeletal body, it slammed into the ground dead and its black cloak vaporized, leaving only a splintered body. More of its kin, the dead, rounded the corners and filled the hallways as they threw themselves towards the living.

"Zehk, open this damned door. We do not have-" the Witch Doctor commanded his lord before something else caught his attention. Within the writhing tide of the dead was a single figure, much larger than the others. It too was wearing a coat of shadows, but much unlike the others, the figure appeared to be alive. That is when the Witch Doctor noticed something was very wrong. The humans of the crew could not, to save their life, hit any of the dead. Their shots went wild and ricocheted off the walls or struck one of their comrades. Surely enough, the human line was overrun in mere seconds of the appearance of the mysterious figure.

Morg...

The Witch Doctor knew who addressed him. He drew his bolt pistol and pulled the trigger. A resounding click answered him and he tossed the jammed weapon aside. He took one step forward and everything became dark. He activated his helmet lights and scanned the area. He was in a fortress, a fortress of Nostraman design. A voice called out to him in the darkness.

"Morg..." the voice called, raspy, gagging. The Witch Doctor went into a full sprint after the voice. "You let me die, Morg..."

It was his Primarch, Konrad Curze. He was alive after all these years. The Witch Doctor ran down the hallway towards where he thought Curze's sanctuary was. Once he reached the door however, his visions faded and he found himself once more inside the "Grand Exorcist." He was at a dead end, the door in front of him sealed tight. It was the vault he desperately needed open. He called out to Zehk, whom was still raving over the vox, but it was to no avail. Behind the Witch Doctor, Zehk's Astartes fell one by one, hoping that the path behind them would have been cleared by now. The Witch Doctor spun when the last Astartes was dead and faced the undead horde. At its forefront was the figure, now clearly a Bloodthirster to the Witch Doctor albeit its skin was a deep grey and it wore no armour besides its cloak.

"You are oddly feminine for a daemon of Khorne..." the Witch Doctor taunted, backing himself into the vault door. The daemonette approached him and crouched so they met at eye-level.

"And you are short for an-" the daemonette began before the Witch Doctor thrust a combat knife to its throat. The daemonette was deceptively quick for its massive size. She easily dodged the knife lunge and grabbed the Witch Doctor's arm. He thrust his other arm, the one that housed his Narthecium into the daemonette's face, causing her to recoil and release the Witch Doctor. He then dove towards a fallen bolter, but something stopped him midway. He looked down and realized that he'd been run through the chest with a massive sword. "Oh look... I've been impaled," he coughed out, almost finding it humourous that he'd die like this. His laughter died when his lungs filled with blood and his body stopped twitching.

* * *

Raak'tiil forcibly removed her sword from the Astartes that had just made a ruin of her face. She drew her sword up and looked at her reflection. A diagonal scar ran across her face and over her nose, ending above her right eye brow. If that Astartes were alive, he would have paid dearly for making her face asymmetrical. Raak'tiil sheathed her sword behind her back and approached the vault door.

"Is my monkey inside there?" she asked the door. It replied by slowly grinding open. A body stumbled out and greeted the greater daemonette with a clumsy bow. It didn't take long for Raak'tiil to notice its shadow was distinctly ape-like.

"Yes, I am inside this... fleshy thing," the body replied, awkwardly making its way down the hall, "Return to Ewryht'eikl and tell him we have the last of the New Order. I shall resurrect more of the dead and return them to his domain."

Raak'tiil nodded and dispersed into the shadows.

Spoiler:
Finally...


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/04/15 17:20:11


Post by: Ezra Tyrius


Kusun snarled as he cut another farmer in half with a single swing from his axe. The man’s guts splashed wetly on the dirt, staining the ground with a puddle of deep crimson. Swinging his axe around in an effort to clean some of the gore off of it, he took stock of his surroundings.

The small human village was burning, thick, ink-black smoke trailing upwards from the inferno. The wooden houses of the farmers were reduced to ashes by bouts of promethium, spewed forwards by a flamethrower wielded by of one of his subordinates. The few farmers that managed to stagger out of their burning homes were quickly cut down by the rest of Kusun’s escort, who were similarly busy murdering every living thing in the small village.

But Kusun was not yet satisfied. The blood was flowing, as the Blood God demanded, but slaughtering a few defenceless Imperials lacked the appeal of actual combat. He wanted to feel the sweat of effort running down his spine, the stinging pain of wounds received and given, the thrill of death coming so close to claiming him. Only then did he feel alive, on that precious, adrenaline-filled line between life and death. It was why the Blood God had reached out to him so long ago, in the dust-filled gladiatorial arenas of the World Eaters.

The sound of his vox crackling to life brought him out of his musings.

“What is it?”

“I have some interesting news for you, cousin”, Mithras spoke, audibly amused even through the heavy static. Communications between the Omnia Cadunt and the surface were rather hazy for some reason, and although Mithras swore he had someone looking into it, Kusun suspected the Dark Apostle kept the static as a way to subtly annoy him.

He had to admit, it was certainly working.

“Enlighten me”, Kusun sighed, as he kicked a farmer’s dismembered corpse.

“Gladly”, Mithras grinned. “We’ve managed to identify a few of the signals floating around, and there are some… exciting ones among them.”

“Keep it brief, Apostle. This is not one of your sermons”, Kusun replied, slightly annoyed.

A soft laugh resounded over the vox.

“As you wish, Lord.” The sarcasm in that last word alone was so thick, one might have mistaken it for an Ogryn’s skull. Kusun could almost feel Mithras make an apologetic gesture, a wicked smile across his face. He slammed his axe into the corpse again, hoping it would keep the idea of violently strangling the Dark Apostle at bay.

“There’s your usual fare of Imperials, a couple of our erstwhile brothers among them.”

“Anyone familiar?”, Kusun asked. The thought of facing other Astartes again brought a crooked smile to his face.

“The Wolf’s sons, for starters.”

Kusun groaned. Of course, the Space Wolves would be here. Another saga to add to their sacred halls, as they would say.

“And?”

“The Carcharadons, surprisingly enough.”

“The Sharks and the Wolves. Can’t imagine that going well.”

“We can only hope. There are other Astartes signals, but we haven’t been able to identify them yet. Other than that, there’s two Knight Houses in-system, and some Imperial Guard regiments.”

“And you call that interesting, Mithras? I didn’t know you’d lowered your standards.”

Mithras tutted. “Aah, but my dear Kusun, I’ve saved the best for last, as always.”

Kusun rolled his eyes in annoyance.

“There were a couple of rogue signals, some of them lasting not even a second before disappearing again. I suspect at least one of them to be of the Eldar.”

“The Eldar? What would they want with this world?”

“Who knows. It’s not like they’d tell us, anyway.”

“And the other signals?”

“One of them seems to be coming from Hive Cogger, a city north-east of your position. Chatter seems to indicate it’s been locked in some sort of civil war as of late, with some Chaos-backed rebels, apparently.”

“You think a Chaos warband is behind this?”

“I do so indeed. If what I’ve been hearing is correct, it might be the Flayed Legion.”

“The who?”

Mithras tutted again, a sound Kusun had rapidly started to despise.

“The Flayed Legion, led by the ever-enigmatic Flayed Lord. They’re a rising star within the Eye, last I heard. I think they could be useful.”

“You believe they know anything of our quarry?”


“Even if they don’t, their presence here is a good distraction. If we’re lucky, we might even be able to work together.” Mithras seemed enthusiastic about the idea, oddly so, even. Kusun would have to keep an eye on him when they approached the Flayed Legion.

“We will head to Hive Cogger, then.”

“Perhaps we could try letting them know we’re coming first, cousin? I doubt they’d welcome us with open arms.”

“We, Mithras? I wasn’t aware you were coming along.”

“Oh I am, my dear cousin. In fact, I’m coming down with the Storm Eagle to pick you up. Because you weren’t planning on heading there without a diplomat, were you?”


Kusun groaned again, the thought of spending more time in Mithras’ company was already damaging his psyche.

“It’ll be a while before I make it there, Kusun. Shall I tell the crew to find a way to contact the Flayed Legion?”

Before Kusun could reply, a loud rumbling grabbed his attention. A group of PDF troopers appeared from the hills in the distance, heading to the village, armoured vehicles speeding ahead of the infantry towards the burning village at a hellish speed.

Kusun smiled.

“Don’t bother, Mithras.”

“I believe I already know a solution for that little problem…”


Spoiler:
Kusun and a couple of Black legion dudes are heading to Hive Cogger from Zandriel


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/04/15 18:10:24


Post by: Irishpeacockz



Faolan sat restless in his chair studying the various maps of the jungle as he had been for hours. Sunlight pierced through the blinds covering the window revealing the dust particles in the air. Faolan's War Council would meet soon, he had spent hours coming up with various solutions on how to approach the greenskin menace that was so close to Canis Caelum and finally he believed he had come up with something to present to his eager peers. Not that Faolan could blame them, Space Marines were not created to patrol bases and kill the odd ork, it was past time to begin purging the various filth that ravaged Crion and it's orbiting moons. Faolan pulled himself up his desk and decided to freshen up a bit before meeting with the Council, it is going to be a long day thought Faolan as he left the mound of old reports and maps and his quarters behind

Faolan entered the War room fresh and began walking over to the globe emitting from the circular table in the center of the room, examining his subordinates as he done so. The room was dark despite it being dawn with the only light source being the globe in the center of the room, leaving the corners shrouded in darkness Faolan still managed to capture some details of his men despite the darkness. Cearul stood patiently awaiting for his Commander to begin, Faolan noticed he did not trim his usually well maintained beard, did he forget or is he growing it out ? Through the darkness Faolan could just make out Chaplain Carwyn’s skull shaped helm, a helm that has struck the fear into countless guardsmen both loyal and traitorous. Apart from his helm Carwyn was submerged in darkness, his jet black plate blending into the shadows. Four figures lingered in the corners of the room waiting to begin discuss tactics. One figured sported a scar on his face , Ardan, a second had his hair braided, and the other two could barely be seen, Faolan presumed Emyr was one of them and the second was probably Pryce. Faolan approached the globe and activated a few buttons, the globe shifted and zoomed in on a jungle area north of Canis Caelum across the sea. The shadowy figures embraced the light of the globe and revealed themselves, Faolan was correct in his assumptions as Emyr, Cabhan and Pryce stepped forward. “ Listen up brothers, as most if ye know Governor Payne’s mansion was assaulted by a band of greenskins. Before we were rudely interrupted the Governor mentioned various threats plaguing Crion and it’s moons, the orks were one such threat. Tobias Payne reckons they are organising into a Waaagh, as such we will strike them while they are still in their petty warbands weak and isolated”. Faolan motioned to the globe, “ Just north of our position is one such warband, it’s exact whereabouts are unknown but we know the general area of their encampment. They are led by one who calls himself Gorehound Da Cook.” Faolan pressed a few more buttons and a tactical map appeared. “ Three teams assisted by Cuardach hounds will fan out and search the jungle for the foul greenskins, keep in constant comms and report in when you find what we are looking for”. A round of grumbling and nodding heads gave Faolan the confirmation he needed. I will lead strikeforce a haon, Ardan you have command of strikeforce a do and Carwyn you have strikeforce a tri, each strikeforce shall consist of whatever squad you feel comfortable with but the hounds are essential to the mission, we move out in two hours” a chorus of fists slammed against the chests echoed throughout the room as the three strikeforces went to prepare. As Faolan was about to leave he spotted something moving in the shadows instinctively his hand was gripping the hilt of Fang Bearer in an instant. Hound Master Rhodri emerged from the shadows grinning from ear to ear, Faolan cursed. “ Rhodri last I checked you were not on my War Council” spat Faolan “ Perhaps we should change that “ joked Rhodri. Before Rhodri could blink Faolan charged the apothecary grabbing him by the throat like a dog by the scruff and pinned him against the wall. “ Presume to tell me how to run this company again and I will starve the hounds for a week before feeding them their Master” Faolan noticed how Rhodri’s arms were up in self defence placing his narthecium right near Faolan’s throat, Faolan tightened his grip. “This is not the first time I have had to put you in your place apothecary but it will be the last ” Rhodri managed to nod and Faolan released him. “Speak” demanded Faolan. “ Rumor has it Sergeant Turlach found signs of a certain beast we may be looking for” revealed Rhodri. “ I’ve read the report, what of it ?” Asked Faolan his patience wearing thin once more “ May i inquire as to when we will be following up on this piece of information ?” Inquired Rhodri. Faolan frowned “ Who said we would follow up on it ?” “ I trust you remember Baltair Seoc’s command ? This would be a terrible opportunity to pass up” Faolan sighed “Orks will be the priority but I will look into this beast” Rhodri bowed “ It is all I ask my lord”. Done with the conversation Faolan marched out the door to ready his strikeforce and leave this folly behind him.

The sun was still rising when Faolan emerged from the command center, a light rain had started to fall along with a light mist, peaceful thought Faolan, something an angel of death should never know. As Faolan was taking in the crisp morning air Techmarine Cadfael took the opportunity to approach his Alpha, “Alpha Faolan” bowed Cadfael “ Brother Cadfael” nodded Faolan, Cafael revealed a dataslate in his hand, “I heard about the ork assault at the banquet fear not I have coordinated with brother Cearul and have secured the coastline against any enemy foolish enough to approach” Faolan smiled “ One less thing to worry about, well done brother. Now if you excuse me I have an ork to hunt” departing Faolan made his way to the landing pads where Assault Squad Trodaithe have been assembled along with Cearul and Pryce. With their Alpha’s arrival the three thunderhawks took flight to track down the ork menace infesting the jungles near Canis Caelum.

Faolan’s thunderhawk dropped down next to the others in a clearing in the forest. Carwyn, Ardan and Faolan distanced themselves from the rest of their force, Faolan began the conversation. “Right Ardan you and your marines will head north west while me and my marines will march north, Chaplain Carwyn you will search northwest with any luck we will track down this beast before dinner”. Ardan and Carwyn spoke no words they did not need to action was what Faolan wanted right now and they had their orders. Gathering his marines Faolan began navigating his way through the jungle making sure he was heading north. Something felt wrong almost as if they were being watched through the trees. Faolan’s vox cackled to life, it was Chaplain Carwyn “Alpha something is wrong here I can feel it something in the trees” “Agreed brother, the hounds confirm your statement even they are on edge,be on your guard and report in regularly”. Faolan and his marines followed the hounds as they tracked smell and sound, such is the specialty of the Cuardach breed. The hounds led Faolan and his group to what appeared to be another clearing at first but upon further inspection it was clear that these trees were crushed aside by some huge creature, “Faolan here, how goes the search ?” Ardan was the first to reply “No sightings sir even the dogs are clueless, some of my men swear they saw the trees moving though I don’t believe it” Chaplain Carwyn chipped in “Unfortunately Commander my news is no different from Ardan’s nothing to the North west either” This search isn’t going as well as Faolan hoped. “Found some crushed trees must have been made a beast” Faolan reported “Must be a huge beast” mused Ardan “Indeed let us search for an hour more and call it a day” just as Faolan said so bolter fire rang in his ear “The trees are moving I repeat the trees are moving !” Faolan was about to respond when the trees around him shifted and changed “ All units fall back to the rally point now !” Before Faolan could retreat the trees parted to reveal three squiggoths charging Faolan’s position with a big ork on the back of the squiggoth in the center “ Oi Spesh Marine wot you doin’ in my Jungle ? You hoping ta krump me eh ? Yous not da first and won’t be da last, Have at im boyz” raising his choppa dozens of boyz emerged from the treeline charging his squad. Faolan was more worried about the squiggoths than the boyz however this battle was a hopeless one and ordered the retreat. Due to the trees shifting and changing the paths had changed making the way back even longer and harder, the hounds were spooked by the shifting wood so the marines could not rely on their senses. The trees themselves picked off a few marines as a branch would fly down and pluck a marine up into the canopy never to be seen again however the odd tree struck an ork aswell perhaps the jungle and the orks are not on the same side ? Faolan knew they were almost out as the foliage was thinning out and they could see the sky, Ardan and Carwyn confirmed they reached the rally point and that the thunderhawks were on standby. On the last stretch Faolan was grabbed by two branches and hoisted up into the air, acting quickly Cearul ordered the men to chop down the trees holding their Alpha in their wicked grasp, before the trees were toppled they let go of Faolan and retreated back. The last thing Faolan saw was the ground rushing to meet him as the world went dark.

Spoiler:
Gonna start introducing breeds such as the Cuardach, action takes place near Gorehound Da Cook while the rest takes place in Canis Caelum


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/04/16 02:19:12


Post by: TheEyeOfNight



Lazarus never cared much for symbolism. In all his battles and all his trials, he had never had a use for crafting elequent icons out of his circumstances. He preferred to use his faith, will, and cunning to carry out his Lord's command, and so no need to bring overmuch ceremony into the bargain. However, this dragon was a new hurdle. He didn't dare send forces after it, not with wounds from the Maw so fresh, and the immigrants from Torcan still arming themselves. But he could not ignore it, all of the Hive had heard its roar when it broke free of the mountain. And so he would use it.

"If there is order, it is because the gods allow it." He paused, recovering from a wounded muscle spasm before he continued. There was something unsettling about the mountain, but its definition evaded him. "We bask in order so that we may fully relish our fall."

Behind him, listening to each word, were two dozen of the finest, bloodiest, most suicidally loyal killers of the Brotherhood. All of them had stood with him at the Battle of the Maw, and had walked the streets by his side when the city first fell. The accompanied him now, on the slopes of the mountain itself, though they did not know why he had asked for them.

"This world is in fragile order. Envy it, for it has yet to experience the full glory of the gods' gifts." He spread out his arms, wincing at the effort, to take in the mountain itself. "The gods send armies, storms, and sometimes...they send creatures of their own." Lazarus turned to the first of the towering killers, who bowed his head in respect. "Lamech. You have read A'Khel's Ninth Canticle have you not?"

"Yes, Father!" The man's voice boomed through his gas mask, ceremoniously streaked with ork blood, which Lamech refused to remove. Lazarus suspected the disciple was planning to decorate the mask with an artistic blend of blood sprays before this war was done.

"And what is the first parable therein?"

"All things are but ashes in time!" Now that was pride in his voice. Lazarus was impressed, and mildly surprised that Lamech could read in the first place.

"So they are. So they are indeed."

He turned, resting his hand unsteadily on a blackened, cracked boulder as one of the wounds from SkullSnake flared up in his side. Again, the feeling of unease came over him as his eyes swept across the stones. He raised the hand, dusted with the ash and debris of the mountainside, and extended it to the first of the chosen disciples. With one finger, he drew a rough serpentine shape on the man's rough iron chestplate, figurative of the dragon which dwelt below.

"From this day you will be Drachen. You will lead your brothers, and bring the fire and fury of the gods themselves to the enemies of the Flayed Lord." He nodded his head once in respect. "Fire and fury."

As one, they raised their weapons and held them high, as if in offering to the dragon within the mountain. Their chant was strong, filled with venom, hate, and praise all in one.

"Fire and fury!"

Lazarus' eye narrowed as he realized what felt wrong about the mountain: the foliage remained. Not a shrub nor tuft of grass had been burned away by the dragon's fire, only the rock below had taken the heat of the fire. Rising to his feet, Lazarus did his best to dismiss the uneasy feeling in his mind, and led his new Drachen back towards the hive.

Spoiler:
If you can't beat it, make it your mascot. And pardon the crappy photoshop skills.






Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/04/16 04:27:41


Post by: VladimirUhl


“From what Ilbist has discovered on this… signal, we know that it is a planet with two moons. We also happen to know the source of this signal. It’s coming from some ancient ruins. We… well we are going to gain access. Any…” I twitch a bit from the blood that still emanates from the foul trophy Gilutekh has crafted. “Any… threats will be taken care of…”
“My lord…” Ilbist speaks up once again. “I also know that the place we are going to rise is… empty as of now. So movement would be vital at this moment.” I think about what she said. My brethren do not possess any functional monoliths, so we would not have a base… perhaps we could just use this as our place of strategy… not that my army would listen. They usually just drag their deformed figures around until they find something to hack up, but maybe this time would be different. I place my hands on the black stone table and look at my two commanders.
“We move now. Rally the army. We are rising by the ruins and gaining access.” My commanders nod and take off. It’s time to rise. I feel energy in my core crackle and burst as I warp out of my safe haven. My resting place. I feel dirt and stone compress my body as I begin my ascent to the over world. I was never built to dig, but my hands rend the dirt away and open the ground. I force my head out first, and then the rest of my disfigured corpse form comes with. The over world is bright. It’s too bright. Gilutekh crawls out of the ground next to me, and Ilbist forces her way up soon after as well. I watch with twisted delight as my brothers rise from the ground like a scene straight out of the tales of the living. I hate their forms and their behaviors, but I can at least take delight in this singular moment. Gilutekh breaks the silence of talk by pointing out the direction of the ruins.
“M-m-my lord, the ruins are th-th-that way…”
“Thank you Gilutekh. We must make haste. This place is foul and tainted with enough life as is.” My legion begins the march over to the ruins. Some move with a primal and ancient eeriness and a slow enough speed to match it, but others have evolved beyond the clumsy walk of old and run towards the objective. Ever here there is diversity I suppose. The march would seem like an eternity to a mortal, but I arrive before I even begin to think about thinking. Thus is the way things ought to be. Less thinking and more doing.
I approach the ruins and find an ancient stairway leading down. The dust is thick and heavy. Disgusting. I step down the stairs with Gilutekh and Ilbist flanking me to reach a great Adamantium vault. I do not notice whose tomb it is as I order my commanders to begin to work on the great door. They slash at it endlessly making small cuts in the mighty prey. I worry not about how long it’ll take. I have all the time in the world after all. Once they slash a necron sized hole in the door, I enter to find a scene that would have made my blood boil if I had blood. Great “VI”’s mark the walls with giant murals depicting a space marine captain and his marines slaying a huge number of necron warriors. I am disgusted. I scan the room to find two other things of notice. A fairly ornate and ancient sword is encased in glass towards the center. If my hands weren’t already covered in five swords, I might have been excited, but the Hyperphase sword in the center would make for an excellent mount. The body of my fallen fellow overlord Moolahk of the Hoptek dynasty. I don’t remember what he was known for, but I did know his corpse would look good on my mantel as well. I order Ilbist to take the sword and Gilutekh to take the body up to the surface. It was time to leave this disgusting place.
I arrive at the surface, and my Flayed horde is still wandering aimlessly around. I needed to find them a target to slaughter soon. It was only a matter of time before they did it themselves.
Spoiler:
I am in Spiri as of now. I apologize for the wait on my arrival. I know it's a little short. Track has me running up the walls, and it's getting to be crunch time for my AP class. Time is not very abundant these days. I hope you enjoy.



Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/04/17 01:30:37


Post by: War Kitten


Namrex Dunes, Moon #1

It was time. Falkon could barely contain his excitement as he read the message that Queen Moira had sent to him. While the repair-work on the Knights was going according to schedule, Moira felt that they could not cease their efforts against the Feral Orks for even a moment, they needed to keep hammering the tribes so that they could not organize a response. Falkon had heard rumors that some new Warbosses had landed on the planet itself, and if it was true it made his mission all the more crucial. If these new Bosses were powerful enough they could rally all the Ferals on this planet under their command and turn them into an unstoppable army. The very thought made Falkon shudder a little bit. He had seen just how dangerous Feral Orks could be under the command of a more modern Boss during the Crusade of Fury, and he wasn’t eager to repeat the experience. He turned his attention back to the message, he was being ordered to take a fewl squads of armsmen and head to the Namrex Dunes. There, a local Warboss was on the rise, and so it fell to Falkon to cut the snake off at the head before it could rise up to bite the Imperials. The problem would be in how he could get the Ork’s attention, smash them, and then get away. House Valorn lacked conventional ground vehicles, so they could not facilitate any sort of fast escape, which meant that Falkon whad to consider his options carefully, for a great many lives were now relying on his skills as a leader. He sighed and stared at his boots for a second. Things were much simpler back when he was a regular Guardsman… He shook off the bout of self-pity and jogged over to the armory, where he began to don his armor and weapons. As always when he saw the armor that he and his comrades were equipped with, Falkon couldn’t help but feel a sense of awe overtake him. The armor itself was based on an ancient design that had first been used amongst the Solar Auxilia during the Great Crusade. It had been modified slightly over the years by House Sacristans, who gave it gyro-stabilizers and reinforced plating around the chest and throat, but the basic design had mostly gone un-changed. And the weapons…. Every time he saw them he was reminded of just how well connected House Valorn was still. They had the means to equip every single one of their men-at-arms with Volkite rifles. Most planetary governors considered themselves blessed if they could give one squad such weapons, and House Valorn had hundreds of them in their armory, just waiting to taste battle one more. With a grin he hoisted his rifle from where it rested on the table and ran his preliminary checks on it. He nodded in satisfaction as he saw that everything was in perfect order. He expected no less given the dedication that the Sacristans showed, but it paid dividends to be sure. Too many times had he seen good men die because they failed to take care of their equipment, and Falkon did not intend to become one of them. He hadn’t survived Orks, Heretics, and Trecherous Allies only to die because of equipment failure. His checks finished, Falkon donned his helmet and jogged to where the lander was waiting. It was time for battle.

Just as the last of the armsmen jogged down the landing ramp of the lander, Falkon heard the roar of bike engines, and as he turned to investigate the source of the noise he saw a group of silver-armored bikers roaring towards him. From the briefings he thought that these must be members of the “Arbiters of Truth”, and as they pulled up to the waiting armsmen and stopped Falkon couldn’t help but feel a vague sense of apprehension. It wasn’t fear, but the sense that these were not men who one should trifle with. Every one of them moved with a lethal grace that reminded Falkon of a predator. He shook off his fear as the leader of the bikers dismounted and approached him. As he drew closer Falkon realized that the man in front of him was a giant! While most Astartes towered over the average man, this one seemed to be a giant amongst giants, and Falkon took an involuntary step back as he took in the giant that now stood before him. The armor on his left arm, including his shoulder pad, seemed to be made from the bones of a great beast, and his facemask was wrought into the shape of an angry face, as if the wearer himself was projecting his hate of his foes to everyone around him. On top of the mask was strewn a crown of teeth and bone, doubtlessly from the same creature that the armor on his left arm was made of. After a few uncomfortable seconds in which neither group spoke, the giant finally said “Armsman Falkon? I am Judge Hetarr of the Arbiters of Truth. We will be assisting you in your battle against the Orks this day. My brothers and I will grab the Orks attention and we will bring them back into a killzone. I would recommend that you and your comrades keep up and establish yourselves in the killzone before we get back. I’ve already sent the coordinates to your tablet.” And with that the Astartes turned on his heel and strode back towards his brothers. As he did Falkon released the breath that he had been involuntarily holding. The arrogance of that man was astounding! While most Astartes seemed to come off as condescending to the average man (even if they really didn’t intend to do so), Hetarr took it to a whole new level, and Falkon got the sense that most men were far too intimidated by his formidable stature to notice. The thought made Falkon stand up a little straighter, and he turned to his comrades and began barking orders, and as one they began to run towards the designated coordinates. They would prove their worth to Hetarr, Falkon would not let his casual dismissal of their skills pass without a fight!




*The Ambush*

Falkon could hear the faint sounds of bike engines in the distance, growing closer by the second. He looked across the canyon to where his second-in-command Amika crouched amidst a cluster of boulders and twirled a finger over his head to indicate that she should ready herself and her squad. She nodded in reply and she gave a series of hand gesture to her squad mates, who then disappeared to their positions amongst the rocks, while Falkon did the same for his squad. As the bikes drew closer Falkon could also faintly hear the roars of the Orks as they pursued the bikers. Falkon raised his Volkite Rifle and aimed it at the narrowest point in the canyons. There the Orks would be at their most vulnerable, and it would be there that they would die. He did not have to wait long for the Orks to arrive. Seconds after he raised his rifle he saw the first Arbiter Biker round the corner, swiftly followed by the rest of his squad. Mere moments after the last biker roared past the ambush point the first of the Orks rounded the corner in hot pursuit. It seemed that the Arbiters had managed to drag the whole tribe with them, and Falkon silently thanked the Emperor that this tribe was one of the smaller ones. Then he saw something that made his heart beat faster in his chest. In the middle of the pack of Orks there was a massive figure who had a few metallic objects pinned to his chest. While he couldn’t make out the exact details from this distance Falkon knew that those were medals pried from the corpses of noble soldiers, and that the massive Ork was none other than Kernal Bloodkill. If they played their cards right they could decapattate the Ork tribe right here, they just had to wait for the right moment…. As the Orks sprinted ever closer to the ambush point Falkon raised one hand to restrain his comrades from firing until they right moment. There! “NOW!” Falkon yelled and then he began firing. The Orks in the canyon had just enough time to look up at the source of the noise before they were engulfed in Volkite fire. It was hardly a battle, he would recall later, it had been more like a massacre. The crude armor of the Orks provided zero protection against the lethally accurate fire of the armsmen arrayed all around them in the canyon, and Orks fell by the dozen. Kernal Bloodkill had scarcely lasted for a few seconds after the firefight started before he was burnt to a crisp by the massed Volkite fire that engulfed him and his boyz. A few minutes after the shooting started it ceased as the last boy turned tail and tried to flee before being scythed down by the armsmen. As one the armsmen let out a roar of victory. They had gone up against a numerically superior foe and they had come out victorious! The best part was they had taken no losses in the bargain! Falkon and his comrades cut off the burnt head of Bloodkill and took it as a trophy of their victory, and Falkon thought it would do nicely as a gift to Chaplain Iodius and his chapter. They had suffered at the hands of the Orks, and the head of Bloodkill would go a ways towards establishing friendly relations between the two groups. Their good mood persisted all the way back to their lander, even the fact that the Arbiters had scarcely stayed around long enough to congratulate the armsmen on their victory did very little to diminish their pride. Falkon did notice though, with a tinge of worry that Judge Hetarr was not with his brothers. He didn’t have long to ponder this fact though, as he stood there he received another message from Sera telling him to return to their base, apparently the Sacristans had managed to seriously upgrade her Knight suit. By the time the lander took off Falkon had pushed the Judge’s disappearance to the back of his mind, he had other things to worry about.

Spoiler:
Rolled pretty well for my assault on Bloodkill, and the Arbiter and I steamrolled em. Vanden, if you want to write up getting a slightly burnt Warboss head in a blurb of yours go ahead, since my guys took his head for you. Also, rolled my first major victory to repair my Knights, and I got some upgrades for em! All in all a good day for me



Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/04/17 04:12:48


Post by: Tactical_Spam


"There was a time, Chapter Master, when we met secretly because you felt obligated to protect me, but I am well and capable of protecting myself. I welcome the thought of your guidance and direction though I have grown my own wings and can now achieve greater heights than you may ever. I am no longer an alley girl from Gallor Prime," the Angel spoke, her words almost as cold as adamantium. She remained standing as her Chapter Master, Ajax Sylus, sat upon his throne hesitantly, his pride slightly wounded by the Angel's harsh words. Neither wore their usual battle plate and wore only the simple white robes that all the members of the Arbiters of Truth wore.

"Every time we speak, must you distance yourself further from me?" Sylus sighed. His eyes never left the floor as he spoke with the Angel. This minor detail irked the Angel more than it should have.

"I have not distanced myself from you as much as you have from me. You have made me part of your petty games, Ajax, and I do not take kindly to being played," the Angel snapped after a drawn out silence. This brought Sylus' eyes up to the Angel, though neither wished it did. Sylus gripped the arm of his throne tightly and readjusted himself. Both found the place this conversation would bring them to uncomfortable.

"There are things in this galaxy that are bigger than you and I. My only choice was to have you take up the mantle of the Angel-"

"You could have left me alone, just as you did with the others from Gallor Prime. I did not want to be a part of your ancient prophecies. You have dragged me into these convoluted schemes that have no end. Each of your fething crusades have been about the same damn thing."

Sylus tensed up and readjusted himself. By the look on the Angel's face, she was beyond furious, though it didn't take a physical appearance to notice. The melodic tone was gone in her voice and her tattoos no longer shone brightly. Her expression and body image became much darker as a result and Sylus felt it was very unnerving. She continued.

"You are trying to find him. You are looking for Ryus."

She was right. Sylus had said that he never felt like Ryus had truly died and it happened to be coincidental that their new handler, Inquisitor Birminghold, was incredibly interested in a warband called the "Fallen Order." The Angel didn't need a divine intervention to see that the old sins of the New Order were still apparent in the Arbiters of Truth. They were still subversive and deceitful to the bone so much that their face as a highly superstitious chapter was hardly true. They hadn't changed slightly and barely repented for their misdeeds in the Charadon System. Now that the Angel was granted access to all the information about the Arbiters of Truth, or the then-New Order, she could see that almost their entire history was seeded with lies and underhanded plans. Despite all of this, all of the cowardice the Arbiters harbored, the Angel had hoped Ajax Sylus, the one human, hardly a fitting term in both character and appearance, that mentored her into the Angel, would be different than all the rest, but it turns out that he was just like the others.

"We cannot rest until he is dead..." Sylus trailed off, clearly entrenched in thought. The Angel has never seen him in such mental anguish as he was now.

"Why do you need me? Why can't you kill him?" the Angel demanded. She was not going to be lied to now. She would not leave until she found the truth.

"You are an untouchable. You do not exist in the Warp which makes you a prime assassin against Psykers... Against Ryus."

"So that is my only purpose? I kill Ryus then what? You'll get rid of me like you got rid of him?" the Angel cried. Sylus had never seen the Angel cry, but it brought him much sorrow to see it now. She made her way to the door.

"Annala, I..."

"For the first time since we left Kattifrakk... You have mustered the courage to use my real name... Congratulations," the Angel said, coldly, void of all emotion and walked out.

Spoiler:
Not much, but I figured I'd get something out for the Arbiters of Truth.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/04/17 14:32:26


Post by: Palleus


The crackle of the fires, the stomping of heavy boots, and the occasional shout or grunt formed a rhythmic tune that filled the night as the shadows danced with the flickering torchlight of Skull Eater fortress. Guts stood at the tree line, his eyes carefully observing the patrols along the fortifications. A smile broke across his face as he saw an opening, and without wasting another second, he dashed towards the wall, leaving only a slight rustle though the underbrush as a sign of his passing.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

SkarGore walked his patrols, his massive frame causing the wall’s wooden planks to creak and groan in protest. He was bored. Worse than that, he was bored, and had to walk the rounds at night. His hands gripped his javelin as he thought it over. Night was always when the best drinking was had, and the least interesting things happened to the guards. He longed for a good raid, to be part of one, or even to be attacked by one. Any chance to fightwas more than welcome. His eyes darted back and forth, attempting to will the shadow’s figments into foes, but he was disappointed again and again.

SkarGore let out a heavy sigh as he leaned against the wall’s battlements, picking at the dirt from under his finger nails, thoroughly convinced that this watch would end just as any other, with the taste of stale leftover grog and disappointment.

A thump.

SkarGore’s ears perked at the sound, tracing its origin to under the machine gun tower. Walking slowly and softly, he approached the sound. His heart pounded with anticipation, and his hands began to sweat as he gripped his javelin, and alarm horn tightly. Reaching the bottom of the tower, SkarGore saw the source of the sound. A dead greenskin, one of the watch, his heart impaled by a metal javelin. Beyond him crouched a nob, his skin covered in camouflage stripes, and a quiver of javelins was slung on his back. SkarGore grinned as he slowly hefted his javelin, his awaited moment of glory had come.

SkarGore’s foot shifted.

The nob’s ears perked.

The javelin flew.

Streaking though the air, the javelin rushed towards the nob, grazing his leather armor as he spun to the side. The nob hurled a pair of iron javelins, one after the other, as he fell through the air and rolled to his feet. SkarGore fell to the ground, the javelins striking him in the thigh and the shoulder. Through grunts of pain, he grabbed his horn and blew it with all the strength he had left. The horn’s sounding abruptly ended as the nob rushed over and kicked it out of SkarGore’s hands, but he blew long enough.

“You’zgunna die.” SkarGore taunted, coughing up blood. “You’z stupid ta’ fink ya could take tha’ fort all by yerself.”

The nob smiled as he drew a bulky looking pistol from his belt. With a click, a brilliant flare flew into the night’s sky, illuminating the whole fortress.

“Commin’ alone wasn’t part’a tha’ plan, chump.”

With that, the nob ripped out the iron javelins with a single hand, and plunged them into SkarGore’s chest.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

As the flare filled the sky, the very air around Hannibal shifted from tense anticipation, to eager aggression.

“ ‘Dat’s ‘da signal. Let’s go boyz!” A roar of joyous rage followed Hannibal’s order, and the iron horde advanced.

Skull Eater fortress was in disarray. The night watch rushed to their emplaced guns, and the rest of the forces ran about, trying to arm themselves before the fight began in earnest. The dark proved to be the iron horde’s ally, as the defenders could see nothing. They hustled to their post, hearing the sound of many steady footfalls rise louder and louder.

“Wot in tha’ name a’ gork iz ‘dat!?” Yelled one of the defenders as the horde finally game into view. Each of Hannibal’s orks held a large iron plate of steel larger than himself, and all of them held together in a unified defense, presenting the defenders of Skull Eater fortress with not a horde, but a solid wall of iron on all sides. In the middle of the horde was a battering ram, it’s body made from a black ore oak, and the head was metal, shaped in the vision of a squiggoth baring its teeth. Frightened and confused yells came from all over the walls as their assailants came ever closer, the defenders unsure how to fight this foe.

“Well don’t jus’ stand ‘dere ya gits!” Yelled a nob from the top of a guntower. “Shoot da zoggin-“

His instructions were cut off mid sentence, as the base of his guntower, and two other guntowers, was blasted away by massive explosions. The defenders watched helplessly, as those defenses crashed to the ground.

Silence.

Only footsteps.

Then the bullets fired.

The walls of Skull Eater fortress erupted in angry gunfire, hot lead raining hard against the iron wall of shields. The iron horde kept coming, the bullets bouncing off the shields, only leaving dents in the thick iron plates as they came to the door. The shields parted, giving way for the battering ram to come forward.

“Heh. A ram. ‘Dey gunna be at ‘dis a long time.” an off world ork said to another, feigning more bravado, and more faith in the gate’s latch bar, than he had at the moment.

Hannibal smiled as the ram came to a stop in front of the gates, a few of his orks fell to the death rain, unlucky casualties as the shield wall reformed around the ram, but the horde as a whole remained unharmed.

“Put on tha’ braces!” He barked, his quiet planning done. It was time for action, and orders. And orders were best received when bellowed loudly.

Ironclad boys rushed forward, fitting solid metal braces on the otherwise free-swinging battering ram. The wall’s defenders only had a few moments to wonder between gun bursts before Hannibal pulled a lever on the side of the ram. The squiggoth’s mouth opened, once baring its teeth, now it was in mid howl, and deep in its throat where over a dozen rockets.

“FIRE!”

The rockets flew out of the ram in an instant, striking the solid gate with a furious assault, turning the front into Swiss cheese, and its heavy tree-sized latch into splinters. Hannibal ordered the braces removed, and with a single mighty swing, the gates flew open. The iron horde rushed in, casting aside their shields, now past their purpose, were cast aside as soon as they entered the compound.

Hannibal stood at the gate, barking orders to his lieutenants. “Gort, Ace, get up an’ clear tha’ battlements. Give us some supportin’ fire! IronGore, we’z takin’ tha’ ground. Krump as many as ya want, but Skull Eata’s mine.”

With that, the nobs flew into action. Gort rushed towards the nearest set of stairs, his hands now replaced with a pair of massive power claws. He could not help himself but grin as he rushed the enemy position, ripping though armor and green flesh as if it were paper, and carving a bloody path up to the battlements. Ace followed suit with his blackbloods, their bullets cutting swaths though the enemy ranks that attacked them.

As the iron horde fought further in the fortress, the enemy resistance increased. More and more defenders filed out of their huts and grog halls as more attackers came through the gate. A near standstill was reached with Hannibal and IronGore in the middle, inching forwards swing by bloody swing. Soon, they fought their way to several of Skull Eater’s nobs. Hannibal raised his pistol, firing a volley of green energy blasts at his foes, and catching one in the chest, and ending his life. IronGore leaped forwards, brandishing the back end of his tankhammer, revealing a razor sharp axe blade that he swung towards the nobs. One nob was unlucky enough to be caught in the first swings, going down as the blade carve though his heart. Two more nobs were more agile, dodging and blocking the blows as IronGore pressed the attack. Then, with a swift spin, IronGore turned the hammer around and swung it migtilly. The nob raised his javelin to block the swing, and the rocket detonated, showering the nob with red hot molten metal as the directed blast went off.

Watching his comrade fall to the ground, the last of IronGore’s foes rushed him, pressing his attack before IronGore had a chance to reload his hammer. The nob gave mighty swings, keeping IronGore off balance enough to keep him from giving any retaliation. At last, the nob’s relentless attacks paid off, and IronGore was knocked to the ground with a heavy handed strike with the Javelin’s handle. There was no ceremony or gloating to be had as the nob moved to finish off IronGore, save a sneer of satisfaction.

The Javelin raised up, its stone surface stained with the blood of IronGore’s allies. As the nob began to stab it down, a blur of motion caught his eye. He turned, but too late, as a metal javelin impaled his head, sending him crashing hard into the ground. IronGore stood up, placing a rocket into his hammer, and turning towards his savior.

“Good shot, Guts.”

Guts smiled as he pulled the javelin out. “I figured ya’ could use the help, seein’ as tha’ boss iz buisy.”

Guts nodded behind IronGore, and the two turned to watch as Hannibal squared off with a gargantuan ork clad in thick metal plates from head to toe. Only his head was truly visible, but IronGore recognized that face instantly.

“Skull Eata’…”

Hannibal and Skull Eater sized each other up, their battleground became the eye of the storm raging around them as no boy dared enter their fight. Hannibal made the first move, firing his energy pistol at Skull Eater. The armor did a fair job as the green energy impacted, and largely vaporized, large chunks of the clunky metal, but Skull Eater remained untouched. Skull Eater responded in kind, firing from the two machine guns attached to his hand, all the while bellowing and charging towards his challenger. Hannibal’s array proved itself once again, as the lightening shot towards the bullets, forming a glowing, crackling barrier that none of the projectiles passed.

The two met in combat, Skull eater bringing his mighty claw to bear. Hannibal moved to the side, barely dodging the massive blow, causing the claw to crash into the ground, before swinging up with his own. He struck the armor hard, and sunk the claw in deep, before ripping out a sizable chunk of metal. It was only metal, to Hannibal’s dismay, and his foe remained unscathed. With a jarring crunch, Hannibal was struck on the head as Skull Eater tore his claw out of the dirt, and brought it up in a backhanded swing. Hannibal was thrown to the ground, his helmet thrown clean off. His ears ringing, Hannibal spit out a broken tusk before standing again to face his foe, only to find Skull Eater climbing into a truck. Hannibal rushed towards him, but it was too late. The truck’s engine roared to life, and Skull eater was driven though the chaos and out the front gate, escaping certain defeat as Hannibal’s boys continued their crushing advance.

“ ‘Dis isn’t ova! Ya hear me! I says ‘dis isn’t ova!” Skull Eater shouted as his truck sped away. It did not take long for his remaining boys to realize their boss had fled, many of which surrendering to the iron horde with only a few die hard fanatics preferring to fight to their deaths.

Hannibal stood still, a small trickle of blood coming from his empty tusk socket, and his eyes still on the horizon where Skull Eater fled as Ace came up to him.

“Hey boss, we got’s tha’ fortress. Tha’ boyz are thinkin’ a’ havin’ some a’ tha’ grog ‘dey gots in ‘ere ta’ celebrate afta’ we’z done lootin tha’ bodies.”

No response.

“Boss? Er… Boss? Ya there?”

“Wheels.” came Hannibal’s response “We’z gunna need some wheels.”

Spoiler:
Finally captured Skull Eater fortress!


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/04/17 23:14:29


Post by: Sgt. Vanden


Iodius awoke from his deep sleep. He asked the nearest apothecary the date. One day. He had been out for a day. He groggily pulled himself out of the medical bay. His entire body ached, and it reminded him of how he felt during his initiation. His years as a scout were hard, but this fight dwarfed it. His imaginary list of injuries had increased by a marginal amount. He found it hard to smile, hell, he found it hard to do anything. He bit down the grunts and marched on. He nodded to whatever Space Marines he saw on the way to his destination, and they nodded back. He had earned respect for beating their Chaplain in combat, and it was rightly earned. Then he arrived. One of the three original bunkers that were here before the Carcharadons made landfall. He entered the building and made his way to the very centre of the building. He removed his helmet, bent his knee, rested his elbow on his knee and planted his head in his hand. The shrine of the Emperor was a glorious one, depicting Him slaying a Great Dragon of old. He sat there for several hours, Space Marines came and went in the time he was there. He felt his mind begin to wander.

Iodius awoke. He was sweating and breathing hard. He checked the chronometer in his eye. Eighteen hours. He had been sitting there eighteen hours. He had no idea what he had dreamt of the past hours, as if it was a black stain in his memory. He rose, put his helmet on and made his way out of the temple of the Emperor. He arrived at the quarters that had been assigned to Captain Ceasar. He knocked. No response. He made to open the door, and it gave way. Ceasar was strewn over his bed, one leg dangled off the edge, and his helmet was on the floor. Stuck in his hand was an elegant looking bottle. Iodius removed his helmet and reached down. He pried the bottle from his fingers and read the label, which was drawn over with several dodgy pictures of Tau and Eldar getting shot.
“Macragian Ale’? Where the hell’d you get this…” He whispered to himself. Ceasar shifted on the spot and covered his face with his arms. “Still asleep ey…” Iodius made his way out of the room once more and called over a few Carcharadons. He grinned and led them back into the room.
“On three…One, two…Three” Iodius blocked his ears
“SURPRISE!” The assembled Marines bellowed at maximum vox amp. Ceasar never knew what hit him. He sprung at least a full metre off the bed and landed flat on his face.
“WHAT WHO WHE-“ He saw Iodius laughing in the corner. “Oh I hate your arse right now…” The Carcharadons shared a laugh and left the room, going back to what Iodius dragged them out of.
“Y-Y-You should’ve s-seen your face! AHAHAHAHA!...” Iodius reeled backwards, clutching his stomach and laughing with unheard of volume.
“Oh I hate you. Now, what was that for and what do you want?” Ceasar rubbed his face, still sore from his fall.
“Ah..hahaha…Oh that was good…Anyway, why’d you get drunk? I’m going to assume that Captain Taranis had something to do with it?” Iodius wiped away a tear.
“Aye, we may have drank a little last night. Now answer my other question” He righted himself and leaned on the bed, occasionally taking a swig from his bottle.
“We have spent too much time here, and I have not heard anything from ‘Encampment Belial’. And I don’t think you need any more time with your drinking buddy, it’s getting quite unhealthy.” Iodius rose and helped Ceasar up. “Get yourself cleaned up, we leave in the morning. Say bye bye to Taranis. I have much to think about.” Iodius patted Ceasars shoulder guards and walked out, leaving Ceasar to clean up the room.
“Ugh I’m going to miss you…” Ceasar looked at the bottle and kissed it. “Next time friend…” He rubbed his temples and began cleaning his mess.

The two left from Strike Base Armageddon early in the morning, only notifying Captain Taranis. A thunderhawk was called from the Battle Barge in orbit and picked the two up. Taranis and Ceasar grasped each other’s hands and shared a laugh.
“If you ever need anything, just ask. We will be there.” Ceasar laughed, he had made a new friend.
“Same to you friend, have a nice trip.” Taranis nodded and stepped back.
Iodius sat in the cockpit with Mikelus. He was above farewells, but would admit that he would miss these Marines. He enjoyed their company, and looked forward to future engagements with them. Ceasar entered the Thunderhawk and sat down. Iodius went back to the front of the Thunderhawk and sat with Ceasar.
“Hell of a week ey?” Ceasar said tiredly
“Ain’t no rest for the Wicked.”

The return was undoubtedly chaotic. They arrived to Cedric(company champion) waiting with at least another four marines. The Champion walked up to Iodius and bowed.
“Brother, there have been developments whilst you were away.” He wore his helmet, but Iodius could hear the sorrow his voice. Cerdic did not wait for a response, and turned away to lead them to the chapel of the base. Iodius was taken aback when he saw the four bodies. Each one had wounds similar to that of power weapons. Orks did not have such technology, especially the orks in the immediate area. He reached down and rested his hand on the Aquilla on the nearest one. It was bloodied.
“How?” Iodius closed his eyes, almost knowing the answer.
“There was a traitor within the ranks. Manus. He was overtaken by some foul power and murdered his own brothers. It took my blade to put him down.” Cedric held his head low, unwilling to meet Iodius’ gaze.
“Where is he?” Iodius rested his hand on his crozius.
“He is contained in the barracks. We have been interrogating him the past three days, and have increased security as a precaution.”
“I shall see him. He has much to atone for.” Iodius turned and went to leave, but stopped as he reached the door. “Tell me Cedric, why have we heard nothing from you the past few days?”
“We were unable to fix communications. Techmarine Strates has not been able to fix it, says something about a disturbance in the force distributors in the communication array.” Iodius nodded.
“Carry on Cedric.”
Iodius marched to the barracks. He felt something stir within him that he had never felt before. The apparition marched next to him, each step was just as vindictive as Iodius’. Iodius had sheathed his crozius to hold something he picked up on his way there. He reached the barracks within minutes of setting off. He heard the growl before he entered.
“Chaplain…Come to gloat?” Manus’ voice was not of this world. Raspy and deeper than it had been before. The room was barely lit, with only a few fires burning in the four corners of the room, and Manus was bound in the centre. Iodius said nothing, just removing a combat knife from his hip. He went to Manus, and began sawing at his shoulder. The once proud marine bared his teeth at Iodius as his tattoo was sewn off. As the skin was finally removed from his shoulder, Iodius stepped back. The skin was thrown to the side, and Iodius punched Manus.
“Ahaha…That’s right…Let go of your rage…Succumb to the urge…” Iodius gritted his teeth and punched harder. Each punch drew a laugh from Manus. The laughter peaked, and Iodius roared. He removed his helmet and hit Manus with it. Each blow drew more and more blood, Iodius felt blood in his mouth, and realised he had bitten down on his own tongue. He hit Manus once more and pulled back. He grabbed what he had brought with him, and put it over one of the torches. He left it there until it was red hot. He grabbed the metal aquilla and felt it burn against his armoured hand. With his other hand he held back Manus’ head.

Iodius wiped the sweat off his brow and looked over the traitor.
“The reward for heresy.” Iodius held his Crozius in an iron grip, its head glistened with blood. “Death.”

Spoiler:
The start of something sinister within the ranks.



Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/04/19 03:02:45


Post by: Kharne the Befriender


=====Strikebase Armageddon, Clerth, Crion======

Taranis stood in the middle of an open pasture, taking in the environment. He closed his eyes and felt the warp. He slowly raised his hands and as his hands rose, so did the earth beneath him. He felt the power of the immaterium surging, bending the planet, shaping the landscape. Taranis was lifted into the air upon a pylon of rock, it stopped and settled when he could see above the tree line. He sat down and looked over the land, it was peaceful.
“Captain!” Taranis stood up and walked to the edge of the rocks and looked down. Artemis was there.
“What is it Artemis?!”
“The Guardsmen are but 10 minutes out, would you like to greet them?!”
“Sure.” He lowered the pylon back down to ground level. “Good to see you Artemis, how goes your work?”
“Fortunately it is slow, the men are well trained. I have something to ask of you.”
“Of course, walk with me Artemis,” They began walking back towards base, “What is it you require?”
“I assume we plan to be on this planet for awhile, yes?”
“I would assume so, why do you ask?”
“I wish to look over the local villages for possible recruits.” Taranis thought it over, he hadn’t even thought of replenishing ranks.
“You may Artemis, I suppose that would help.”
They arrived at the base as the first of the three Tetrarch Heavy Landers made ground fall. The Captains and their subsequent staff and orderlies approached first. First was Captain Vitear, a suave man with a look of regality about him. He face only marred by a single scar on his cheek. Following him was Captain Matesius, he was an average sized man of above average intelligence, his right arm was bionic as was his left eye. The two captains greeted each other as Captain Sibarios walked right past them. Sibarios was a gruff brute of a man, such was expected from the son of a former Vostroyan. All three Captains stood in a line ready to greet the man who had helped save them. Taranis walked forward flanked by Exitar and Artemis, all clad in armor.
“Captains, glad to see you’ve come to bring His wrath upon the enemy. I would hold off on deploying yet until we can establish a proper location for you to set up. May I inquire your names?”
“I am Captain Vitear, I lead the Iron Reclaimers Infantry Company. If a hill needs storming, we’ll take it or die trying.”
“I’m Captain Matesius of the Purifiers Infantry Company. I’ll make sure the enemies of the Emperor are but ash.”
“Hehehe,” Captain Sibarios chuckled, “I’m Captain Sibarios, I lead the Manumit Host Armored Company, if you need something one let me know, I can get it done.”
“Very well men, it is good to have you hear. Do what you must, but I need you to follow me..”
The Captains gave their staff orders and sent them off before before following the giant Astartes. They walked for a minute or two before approaching the command stronghold of the Strikebase. They entered and walked down a hall before entering a room with a rather large table. They all sat down and looked around for a bit. Taranis was first to speak.
“I’m forming a Strikeforce to send to Hive Torcan,” He threw a small box into the center of the table and it projected a map of Crion, “There are Eldar rumored to be there, the Governor wants us to go in and take them out. He emphasized, however, that this is to remain as confidential as possible. Matesius, I want your company to go with Exitar and take those Xenos down. Vitear, we’ll have you set up next to Armageddon, you’ll be deployed when we find a suitable target for you. Sibarios, how well can your men entrench?”
“We can dig like wolverines if need be, are there mole people about?”
“No, I want your tanks to entrench around the base behind the walls we’ve built. We’ll turn this place into a fortress yet.”
“I can do that.”
“Good, I trust you all will succeed in the Emperor’s name. Strikeforce Apocalypse will launch in two days, dismissed.” The Guardsmen left the rooms and back to their own companies to start preparations. After they had left, Taranis turned to Exitar, “You will be leading this Strikeforce, you will take Squads Leiodon, Typus, Mokkaran, Corona, and Pelagios. The Carcharius will drop you off. The Perlo, Ditropis, and Maximus will go with you as well. Is there anything else you need?” Exitar thought it through, “I would like to call on the Astartes of the Dorn’s Wish chapter, I wish to see their resolve in combat. I would also like to contact the Armsmen of House Valorn, I Knight could facilitate this operation.”
“So be it then, you may contact them. Artemis, I want you to go with Exitar, perhaps we may find recruits in this battered Hive.”
“Yes sir, I will be on the lookout.”
“You both may go. I will contact the Agrona and see if anything recent has occurred.”
They all parted ways, Artemis went to the barracks to monitor the men and make sure everyone is healthy, Taranis went to his chambers to switch out of his armor, and Exitar walked to the communications room. He entered the building and went to the man in charge of the building.
“You there, I need you to establish a vox link with Chaplain Iodius of the Dorn’s Wish chapter.”
“Yes m’lord, here you are.” The serf handed Exitar the vox, it was a couple minutes before a voice was heard.
“Exitar? What is it you need?” The man’s voice was forced and pained, he was obviously still hurting from the fight.
“I am to lead a Strikeforce against the Eldar of Hive Torcan and it would be deeply appreciated if you could send some help.”
“Hmm… hold for a moment,” The vox went silent for a couple minutes, “I will accompany you along with Squads Pelis, Giecos, and Androdian. Where is this Strike force leaving from?”
“We leave from Armageddon, in two days time. Welcome to Strikeforce Apocalypse.”
The vox went silent. Exitar was glad that the conversation went better than he thought. He still had another call to make though.
“Patch me through to House Valorn.”
“Yes m’lord.” Exitar held the vox for a few minutes before it whirred to life, a female voice came through.
“This is Amanda Valorn of House Valorn, with whom am I speaking?”
“This is Exitar, Chaplain of the Carcharodons 9th Predation Company.”
“Hello Chaplain, with what can I help you?”
“I am requesting one of your Knight kin, we are launching a Strikeforce to combat the Xenos threat at Hive Torcan, I figured the Knights of House Valorn would enjoy the opportunity to smite the enemies of the Imperium.”
“Indeed we would, Knight Sera Valorn has just gotten her Knight repaired, I’m sure she would like to take her Knight out for a spin.”
“Thank you, we are congregating at Strikebase Armageddon in 2 days time.”

-----Two Days Later-----

Exitar stood to the side of the strike base's airfield, Artemis and Matesius standing next to him. He walked up and down the line as the 5 squads he was taking were filed and in rank. He looked over his astartes before speaking,
“Men, within the hour, we will be enroute to Hive Torcan. We are to eliminate the foul Xenos that hid within its walls, and we are to be discrete with it. The Governor wants this to be confidential, but we will do what is needed.” He stopped speaking as a large whirring was heard, it was not but seconds before a teal Thunderhawk came over tree line. It slowed and landed about 50 meters away from the gathered men. The front ramp lowered and a Chaplain walked out followed by 30 Marines. Iodius took a look at the gathered Sharks and gestured for his men to do the same. Exitar was first to greet, “Ah, chaplain, it is good to see you again.”
“Likewise. I bring with me Squads Pelis, Giecos, and Androdian.”
“Allow me to introduce you to most of the commanders. This is Artemis, apothecary for our company and this is Captain Matesius of Purifiers Infantry Company.”
“A pleasure to meet you both.” He thought for a second, “What do you mean most commanders?”
“We are awaiting on a Knight Sera Valorn.”
“An Imperial Knight? I’m impressed Chaplain, this is a worthy battle group.”
“Yes,” A large rumble was heard as the Carcharius approached the base, an Imperial Knight hanging beneath it, “Here they are now.” The Knight was lowered to the ground with a large thud. The Stormbird detached from the Knight and landed, out of the side door emerged Sera Valorn who was accompanied by 10 armsman. As they approached Exitar couldn’t help but notice the ancient armor and weaponry they possessed, it was as if the Solar Auxilia still existed. The Knight pilot surveyed the 80 gathered marines, “Well this is an impressive battle group chaplain.”
“It is,” Exitar and Iodius spoke at the same time and then looked at each other.
“Sorry, I should have specified.... What is that?” She looked past the commanders and at the massive ship behind them. Matesius swelled with pride. “I am Captain Matesius of the Purifiers Infantry Company, that is the Lander that hold my company.” Exitar looked back, “Speaking of introductions, this is Chaplain Iodius of the Dorn’s Wish chapter, this is Artemis, apothecary of our company, and that’s Matesius as you now know. Let us move out then shall we?” Exitar began giving commands,
“Leiodon, Typus, and Pelagios, you will be riding in the Caestus Rams, dismissed. Iodius, accompany your men in your Thunderhawk.” Iodius nodded and then began herding is men into the Thunderhawk. “Matesius, return to your Tetrarch and ready your men, you will receive orders before arrival.” “Sir.” Matesius gave the Astartes a salute before turning and leaving for his ship. “Mokkaran and Corona, report to the Carcharius. Valorn, you and your armsman will accompany myself and Artemis aboard the Carcharius. Let’s move out people.”

=====Outskirts of Hive Torcan, Hotch, Crion=====

Exitar had spent the majority of the flight viewing a holographic map of their landing zone, mapping out where the defenses would be and what changes to the environment would have to be made. He had reached his conclusion, he picked up his vox unit and switched it Matesius’ channel. “Matesius, I have your orders. I want you take your men and have them start building into these positions. My men will assist you with the construction of defenses.” “Yes sir, i’ll begin delegating command.” He switched the vox over to Iodius’ channel, “Iodius, the Imperial Guard will begin defense works, can your men provide overwatch?” “I’ll have them patrol the perimeter.” He put down the vox and stood before walking over to the Knight pilot, “When we touch down I want you to get in your suit and scan the area for threats.” “I will do so Chaplain.” Exitar began walking to the cabin of the Stormbird when the vox went off, “We’ve arrived at the LZ.” He stopped midway and walked to the door and opened it, he leaned out and saw the area they would be setting up camp, it was right outside of Hive Torcan.
It took about 30 minutes for the Marines to land and get to work, it took an additional hour to finish unloading the massive Tetrarch. Exitar stood on a small hill between the camp and the Hive and looked at the latter. He surveyed the walls and higher buildings, his gaze fixed on a spot where he thought he saw movement. He caught a glimpse of a mask before it disappeared into the shadows.

The Harlequin's new exactly where they were at. This offensive had just gotten significantly more difficult.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/04/19 04:57:57


Post by: Bobthehero


----- City of New Pavus, slums -----

The infiltrated Scions weren't going anywhere so far, they had wandered around, looking for other high ranked Tillers to approach, the only thing they'd found were a few pro-Tillers propaganda fliers, including some with pictures of Horatio, at least they'd recognize him now, and would be able to gun him where he stood if they came across him. The mission had been delayed for too long and Mallia was getting impatient, they had very little intelligence gathered, it was probably time to change strategy.

'' I vote we snatch the Major and interrogate him our way '' said a Scion

'' That could work, his guards are sloppy, and they weren't wearing decent armor, our silenced pistols should make e'm go down quick, don't think the guy will resist interrogation for too long ''

'' We'll have to track him first, can't take him in that tavern, too many people ''

'' Obviously, you guys brought some sleeping darts? ''

'' I did! ''

'' Great, I'll confirm orders with the Tempestor and we'll plan it in more details ''

Mallia reviewed what her men told her and gave her them her go

'' This has been a huge waste of time, go ahead, we need progress ''

----- Drakes Point PDF Training Post -----

Riley was in a foul mood, the PDF bunch he was assigned were exceptionnally incompetent today. He shot the slowest with a '' training bolt '', the lowest setting possible on a hellgun, still extremely painful, but not likely to cause lasting wounds, or to kill.

'' You're wounded, idiot, now your squad's gotta carry ya... FIRST SECTION! You got a men down, fething act like it! '' One trooper came back to help his comrade, Riley gave him a few seconds before shooting him in the head.

'' First section! Noone was covering your buddy while he was treating your wound, some gakhole shot him in the head '' This time, the PDF's followed their procedures and two men showed up, one checking up on the wounded, while the other was providing covering fire. To their credit, the soldiers managed to move their comrade pretty quickly, and he was swiftly left under the care of the platoon medic.

'' Alright you two get back to your section, they'll need you '' The pair moved up and their sergeant ordered them in position to support the rest of the squad. They made good progress despite their losses, taking their objective. Unfortunately for them, the rest of the platoon did not fare too well, and an enemy counter counter attack charged at them, hitting the sergeant with a burst of lasbolts to the chest. His armor probably would've stopped the worst of the hits, but for the purpose of the exercise, they would count as kill shots.

'' Two IC, take over, repel that charge, you're in a good spot! ''

The new man in charge answered by ordering his squad to throw frags

'' FRAG OUT! '' said a trooper, followed by the muffled explosion of the training grenades, the rest of the squad rose up, slowing down the enemy where it was, and forcing them to take cover and fire back, there would be no close combat on this assault. Lasbolt lit up the training ground as both forces exchanged fire, the men under Riley supervision slowly taking their enemies down. In the end, they had lost two more men, but had been victorious.

'' All right, not too bad, you guys started off really sloppy, but at least you pulled outta that one, but remember, when you go take care of a wounded, make sure you bring someone to cover you, you don't know the state of your buddy, and you might get attacked while you're treating him, no doubts you guys would've pulled through with less losses with an extra gun up there, you're all dismissed ''





Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/04/20 16:43:40


Post by: Palleus


Skull Eater fortress had been transformed.

Wooden walls reinforced with iron plates, twice the gun towers, the machine gun emplacements were doubled, and new rocket launcher emplacements studded the walls and bunkers. The orks now called it Iron Skull fortress, a boast that even Skull Eater could not defeat the Iron Horde. Hannibal let them change the name. He rather liked it.

The days following the fortress victory were filled with laughter and drunken song. Even the surrendered orks were gladly welcomed into the horde, drinking along with the rest. Hannibal, however, never joined in the festivities. He preferred seclusion as he plotted out the reinforcements of Iron Skull fortress, and worked on his latest project.

The sound of song was drowned out as Hannibal’s project roared to life. Crowds had begun to gather at the building Hannibal claimed as his new workshop before the door burst open, as Hannibal rode out atop a large iron bike, and sporting a wicked grin. Nobs bellowed bids of hundreds of teeth at Hannibal as he drove around the inside of the fortress, his bike gleaming from the twin gun barrels to the tailpipe. A few hours later, Hannibal was back in his workshop, humming a song to himself as welded the frames of four new bikes, with a chest filled to the point of bursting with teeth placed in the corner.

It was then that an ork boy came to his door. It was one of the off world orks who had surrendered during the battle. He, and the rest of his kin were welcomed into the iron horde in the typical ork custom, and Hannibal was quite pleased with the grasp of technology the off world recruits had and made sure to put them to good use.

“Boss. We scouted out tha’ otha’ bases, an’ ‘dere ain’t no sign a Skull Eata’. Ain’t no sign a any a his boyz.”

Hannibal put his tools down, and pushed the welding mask off. Wiping the sweat from his green brow, he bade the boy to go on.

“The camps were empty. ‘dey took tha’ weapons. Nothin’ left ta’ look. Ya fink Skull Eata’ decided to leg it afta’ tha’ beatin’ you gave ‘em?”

Hannibal shook his head, but smiled at the thought of him besting Skull Eater in combat. While not exactly the way it actually happened, Hannibal was happy with letting the new recruits believe that he was the mightier ork. Skull Eater proved to be a strong, and durable opponent. In his heart, Hannibal knew that the threats Skull Eater made were not idle ones. This report only confirmed his suspicions.

“He ain’t runnin.” Hannibal said. “He’s got too much pride fer’ dat. He’s gatherin’ fer’ an attack. Get Guts an tell ‘em to come ‘ere. We gots more buildin’ ta do.”


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/04/20 23:11:03


Post by: Sgt. Vanden


Iodius readied himself once more. The Thunderhawk roared through the sky, bound for the coordinates relayed by the scout group. He was angry at the development at Encampment Belial, and this was a perfect pass-time. An ork establishment was found somewhere in the desert, and Iodius went with twenty-nine other battle brothers, each eager to spill xenos blood once more to destroy it. Iodius hoped that the damned leader was there. To kill him, would be to cut off the head of the ork tribes in the region, and make their eradication quick and easy. Iodius closed his eyes and edged the pilot to fly faster.

The orks of the Namrex dunes were surprisingly adept in technology, their Trukks only exploding 4/10 times the driver turned on the engine, their ranged weapons only jamming every 7 shots, and usually exploding afterwards, their melee weapons were usually clubs or crude axes…Well, at least the orks thought they were pretty savvy. But no amount of DAKKA could prepare the orks for what was coming. The Thunderhawk streaked overhead, disgorging missile after missile into the most fortified parts of the camp. Trukks burned, orks died. It was glorious. After each pass, the orks would try to regroup, but the low moral, little to no discipline, and common rivalries prevented such a thing from happening. By the time the Thunderhawk landed and delivered its payload, the orks were pretty much gone, running away from Iodius and his pent up rage. Only a few stragglers remained when Iodius reached the camp.
“Orks spotted moving due north. Do you wish for me to hunt them down, Chaplain?” Mikelus’ voice sounded in Iodius’ ear piece.
“No, I wish the pleasure of killing them myself. Circle above us and tell me what you can see, we shall start heading out now.”
“As you wish, Chaplain.” Iodius heard the distinct noise of the Thunderhawk taking off and saw it pass overhead. A few minutes later and Iodius once again heard Mikelus. “Chaplain, it appears that these orks are running straight into a sandstorm. Visibility is bad, and they shall be slowed for quite some time.”
“My thanks, we will arrive there soon. Iodius out.” None shall escape the will of the Righteous. He would make sure of that.

The battle took place nearly 40 minutes after the transmission. Iodius met the orks in the middle of a fierce sandstorm, that limited visibility to four or five metres. As such, Iodius and his Brothers heard the orks long before they saw them. The orks had spent a very long time in these sandstorms, and as such, grew accustomed to the low visibility. There was no end to ork adaption, Iodius thought.
“WAAAAAGGGGHHH!!!!” Iodius heard it. The same voice. Kernal Bloodkill was here. The air around Iodius suddenly became congested with bullets, although the majority of them were directed upwards. Iodius had seconds to react when several orks materialised infront of him. He swung his Crozius at the first, at its head rolled off back into the sandstorm. The second and third were killed by quick shots from his bolt pistol, but the rest were on Iodius before he could do anymore. He felt his rage flair as he felt at least four different weapons breaking on his armour. The orks fell one by one, and Iodius could feel himself calming slightly. All that changed when the Kernal finally arrived at Iodius’ position. Iodius swing his Crozius at him, but it was deflected by the orks massive gun, the sheer bulk of it turning aside Iodius’ weapon. He felt a sharp pain as the Kernal unleashed a salvo at point blank range. The bullets tore through Iodius’ skin, although the majority of them passed clean through. Iodius fell backwards and collapsed into the sand. His marines were pushing the orks back, and the Kernal saw this. He had no time to finish Iodius.
“OI, Call da boys back, we’ze gots ta get outta ‘ere!” That was all his orks needed. Iodius saw the Kernal once again on the back of his boar, about to make his escape once more. Iodius gritted his teeth and lifted his pistol. He pressed the trigger, but the hammer mearly slammed on a empty magazine. As such, he did the next best thing.

His Crozius soared through the air and hit Kernal Bloodkill in the head. Iodius saw him fall from his saddle and land on the sand. That was it. It was over. Iodius was about to rise up and claim his prize when he was stopped in his tracks. The orks body was rising once more. Iodius let out a groan and voiced his dismay so loudly, that even the Kernal heard him.
“Ugh, Emperor damn you ork! Why aren’t you dead yet?!” Iodius rose and began making his way to the Kernal, who was still struggling to get up.
“Dats because you ‘aven’t said da magik word, Space Marine.” The Kernal grinned from ear to ear, exposing his sharp yellow teeth. Iodius heard a rumbling come from behind, and the distinct noise of an engine. He turned, only to see the silhouette of an ork trukk zooming towards him. It was at this moment, he knew, He fethed up. He did the only thing he could, and thrust out his fist with all the strength he could muster and felt the impact. His fist punched its way through the thin grate at the front of the Trukk and straight into the engine. The brittle ork contraption broke and caught fire, igniting the fuel stored only a few centimetres from it. Iodius wasn’t awake to see or feel the explosion, but he was sure he’d feel the aftermath of it when he woke up.

He was right. He felt how he looked, which was pretty darn bad. The good news kept on coming however, with news of the Kernals escape. Iodius got off the cot in the apothecarium and made his way outside. His Marines suffered minimal injuries, and even managed to find Iodius’ Crozius for him. A serf ran to him.
“Mi’lord, we have someone on the vox, he goes by the name of Exitar” The serf bowed his head and awaited the response.
“Exitar? What does he want…Ugh…Ceasar must’ve forgotten something there…” He looked down on the mortal. “My thanks, lead me to it.”

A FEW DAYS LATERR…
Ceasar sat in his command tent organising strategies and other menial tasks when a serf burst into the tent.
“Lord, I bring joyous news!” The serf exclaimed, obviously eager to tell his Captain something.
“Yes? Well what is it man, spit it out!” Ceasar thought he’d humour the little guy.
“House Valourn armsmen have sent over the charred head of Kernal Bloodkill! They got him!” Ceasar raised an eyebrow.
“Get me a ride. I want to thank them in person and want to meet the ones who succeeded where even we failed.”
“Yes Mi’lord”
“Oh, and one other thing…”
“Anything Mi’lord.”
“Get me beverages to take with me. I want to see how many it takes to knock out a human.” The serf smiled.
“Yes Mi’lord, but I’m pretty sure it’s about six glasses of ale before they’re out cold.” It was Ceasars turn to smile.
“Oh, great, thanks for taking the fun out of it…”
“Anytime Mi’lord.”


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/04/20 23:11:55


Post by: Sgt. Vanden


North Vox, Crion.

As the first Valkyrie roared into North Vow, each guardsman prepared their own weapons. A display of power was needed to show these backwater troopers what real training looks like. Each trooper was different. Modified weapons, hot-shot lasguns and sniper rifles. Each had their own choice in firearm, choosing whatever they were good at using. This routine assignment was going to be over quickly, but they still needed a base of operations. Defenses were set up within the hour, communications established and a perimeter was set. Several kilometres from Kampf’s Anchorage, the ‘Gorgons’ established their base.

“Get that cog-head here! The turrets are on the fritz again.” Ben called out to no-one in particular. He looked over at what the Tarantula turrets were trying to target. Something in the treeline he thought. If the turrets were loaded, there was no doubt in Ben’s mind that the turrets would’ve spent it in less than ten minutes. A few minutes of kicking the turret and excessively cursing, the Tech-priest arrived, and was highly displeased with Ben’s treatment of the turret. After blessing the turret, administering firing and targeting rites and even tinkering with its machinery, the techpriest stood back.
“It seems that the turret believes there are hostiles in the treeline.” The techpriest muttered, his voice a mix of mechanics and old age.
“Well, can you fix it?” Ben asked, annoyed at the less-than-helpful techpriest.
“No. Theres nothing wrong with it. Just clear the trees back and it’ll fix itself.”
“Is that the only option? Ugh…And I thought my life was going to be easy…Alright, get some squads assembled, give them axes and a couple Chimera’s, we can use the wood burned to keep us warm at night.” Within the hour, a line of Guardsmen trickled towards the treeline.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/04/21 01:50:27


Post by: War Kitten


Moon #2, Hive Cogger.

Deep in the depths of Hive Cogger, a long abandoned Webway gate stood silently. It was ancient even when the human settlers of Crion first set down the foundations of Hive Cogger in the distant past, and for years it had stood abandoned in the depths of the Hive. Its’ existence completely unknown to the inhabitants of Hive, but the Eldar remembered. They remembered back when this world had once been a part of the Eldar Empire, and now they used that knowledge to gain access to the Hive. For many years the Hive had stood inviolate, with invaders being unable to break through its’ thick walls into the Hive proper. But no longer. In a flare of light the Webway gate activated, and the first warriors of the Eldar strikeforce began to make their way through into the Hive. First came the Striking Scorpions, who immediately disappeared into the shadows that surrounded the gate. Their job would be to eliminate any humans who were too close to the gate, for the rest of the strikeforce would need some time to get through the Webway gate and assemble themselves. Several Flayed Legion Cultists, along with a few civilians who had the misfortune to be nearby, were eliminated with swift, shocking bouts of violence. Their corpses dragged off and hidden in the shadows, leaving little sign that they had ever been there. Their task done, the Exarch of the Scorpions and his squad settled down to wait. It would be some time yet before the rest of the Strikeforce were able to get through. They had to time their entrances carefully, for any big flares of energy might be detected by the primitive sensors of the mon’keigh. While it was unlikely, given how primitive the sensors of the Hive were, Lilliana had given strict orders to not push their luck by going for a massed invasion of the Hive. No, the Strikeforce would trickle into the Hive a little at a time, and when they were ready, the enemies of the Eldar would feel their wrath. Farseer Lilliana had seen a vision of this Hive. The fouls servants of Chaos had begun to set their claws into the Hive, and if they were not stopped this Hive would become a stronghold for the foul servants of Chaos, and so the strikeforce had their orders. They were to sabotage the efforts of the servants of Chaos in this Hive in any way that they were able, ensuring that the efforts of these foul degenerates were made moot. If all went well the servants of Chaos would fall before them like wheat before the scythe.

Warlock Raela stepped through the Webway gate, and looked around at the rest of the assembled Eldar warriors around her. Nearly every Aspect was represented here, with the sole exception of the Shadow Spectres and the Crimson Hunters. Her heart swelled with pride as she gazed upon the proud visages of her fellow warriors. The memories she had of being an Inquisitor of the Imperium seemed to fade a little more with every day that went by and strangely enough, Raela didn’t miss those memories at all. This was where she truly belonged, amongst her kin, and she never tired of her new role. She turned to the Guardian Squad that had traveled through the portal with her, and made a series of hand gestures, issuing orders to her squad, and as one the Guardians began darting down the corridor towards where the rest of the Strikeforce were awaiting in ambush. Lilliana’s vision had shown a rather sizeable group of Chaos worshippers heading their way not long after the last of their Strikeforce came through, and Lilliana had ordered that they be crushed with extreme prejudice. None dared risk speaking aloud as they darted from cover to cover, the servants of Chaos had ways of keeping an eye on things that bordered on the supernatural. A few minutes later Raela’s squad arrived at the ambush point, and took up position with the rest of the warriors, and Raela received a silent salute from her counter-part Warlock Viksanis, as he stood silently in the shadows alongside his own squad of Guardians. Now they just had to wait for the humans to arrive, and play their part in fate’s tangled web.

There! Raela’s keen ears could faintly detect the sounds of approaching cultists, their boots making obnoxiously loud sounds on the ferro-crete and adamantium that made up the floor of this section of the Hive. She glanced towards Viksanis, who gave Raela a nod that spoke volumes in of itself. His squad was ready for action, and as she glanced at the Exarchs that were command each squad of Aspect Warriors she received similar nods. They were all ready. The first of the humans rounded the corner and began walking towards where she crouched amidst the shadows, and even from here Raela swore that she could smell the taint of Chaos on him. The sour smell of metal mixed with something foul and indescribable. It would be her pleasure to wipe it from existence this day, she just had to wait for the right moment. The Scorpions would be the ones to initiate the attack, everyone else would wait on them before launching their assault. Then the moment came. With a cry that was swiftly cut short, one of the cultists in the rear of their formation was dragged into the shadows, and as the rest of them began to turn to investigate the noise, the ambush was sprung. Mandiblasters spitting death, and pistols blazing the rest of the Scorpion squad leapt into action, with 6 humans being cut down in the time it took them to blink. Then came the Banshees, whose keening wails dropped several of the humans to their knees, with blood leaking out of their shattered eardrums. They were shown no mercy, and the silvered blurs that were the power blades of the Banshees were swifly colored crimson, as heads were parted from necks by their lethally accurate blows. The few cultists who still had enough of their wits about them raised their weapons and began to fire wildly, desperate to hit the deadly warriors who were now amongst them, and far more often than not their inaccurate shots hit their comrades, and the few shots that did hit home on an Eldar warrior were easily deflected by their masterfully crafted Aspect armor.

Through it all Raela stalked forward like a Goddess of War, her Guardians and Warlcok Viksanis at her side snapping off shots at any of the humans who tried to engage her. One part of her mind stayed disengaged, and focused on what was happening in the battle at large, and she was constantly issuing mental orders to the warriors around her, ensuring that they fought like a well-oiled machine. Desperate counter-attacks by the cultists were swiftly blunted, and then driven back in disarray by the fury of the Aspect Warriors. As she strode forward, she was lit up by a psychic nimbus as she used her powers to sway the battle even further in her warriors’ favor. Blows that would have been mortal wounds to an Eldar warrior bounced off of armor like rain, and wounds that should have been trivial for a human warrior were suddenly much more devastating, and cultist after cultist was cut down. Raela was jolted out of her battle-trance by a faint noise behind her, and she turned to see a truly massive brute behind her, with a weapon poised to bring down upon her unarmored head, but he didn’t move. Raela glanced down for a second and saw why. There was a long, slender blade stabbed through his chest, and Raela heard the cultist gurgle as his lungs began to fill up with blood. Then with a swift jerk the blade was removed, and once it was gone the warrior collapsed bonelessly to the bloody ground, and Raela saw her savior. It was Aelvin, one of the few male Howling Banshees of Iybraesil. He gave her a warriors salute with his blade before diving back into the fray, his sword a crimson blur as human after human fell to his skill. By the time Raela shook herself out of her fugue state, the battle was over. The entire group of humans had fallen, and the Strikeforce had mercifully taken very few casualties, the speed and fury of their assault ensuring that the humans had had no chance to respond to their attack. The bodies of the few Eldar who had fallen were already being borne respectfully back to the Webway gate, while the human bodies were being left where they fell. In the distance Raela could hear explosions, and she knew instinctively that another part of Lilliana’s vison had come true. The last part of her vison had been of human warriors loyal to the Imperium also fighting inside this hive, and Raela knew deep in her bones that her Strikeforce was not along in their desire to punish the foul scions of Chaos, and the thought brought an almost feral grin to her face. This was only the beginning, Raela thought with some satisfaction, as the Striking Scorpions set off again into the shadows already hunting for their next target.

Spoiler:

Rolled a major victory on my infiltration and I got to mess up some cultists. Now to wait for the inevitable retribution from EoN. At least I got to do a thing....


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/04/21 21:23:45


Post by: Robin5t


“Now, I've been wrong before,” Imryll began slowly, “But I believe the key to opening the door resides in those four statues.”

“Hmm,” Fallacy stroked her chin thoughtfully as she studied the room, “And what leads you to that conclusion?”

“I believe I may have a guess,” Dranc ventured thoughtfully, “Is it that they're the only things in the corridor that aren't either the door itself, the trap, the burnt corpse, or us?”

They were referring to the four statues that dotted the corridor. The one furthest to their left was of an Imperial Space Marine, holding a globe. The second was of a different Space Marine, this time thrusting a spear through another Marine whose armour was different – likely supposed to represent one of the traitor marine groups. The third was of a Marine kneeling with a sword, and the last was of a Marine with another wounded or dead Marine in his arms.

“That would be around fifty-percent,” Imryll agreed, “The other fifty comes from the fact that they're statues of Space Marines holding weapons in what I believe are supposed to be dramatic poses. Humans love that sort of thing. Almost as much as Craftworlders love vague prophetic statements about doom. It is highly unlikely they aren't relevant in some way.”

“There is an inscription above the door, as well,” Fallacy mused, “Vigilance, Victory, Honor, Sacrifice. Amusing, that last one. These apes have a habit of clinging to concepts they don't understand, don't they?”

The other two Harlequins in the room suddenly felt distinctly uncomfortable. It was one of the few taboo topics within the Masque, or among Harlequins in general – the fate that awaited every Solitaire. That when they inevitably met their end, their souls were the property of She Who Thirsts – unless their own Patron, Cegorach, could win them back with his cunning. Needless to say, that contest did not always end in favour of the Laughing God.

“...Okay, I have absolutely nothing,” Fallacy confessed after a moment, unaware of the discomfort she had inadvertently caused her fellows, “There is some kind of secret, here, but I can not fathom what it is at all.”

“Nor me,” Dranc shook his head.

“I'm afraid I have also come up short,” Imryll admitted, “I need time to think on this.”

And so, they studied the statues, and the door. They studied them long, and hard. After roughly half an hour, the Shadowseer and Death Jester looked about ready to give up, when Fallacy suddenly perked up.

“I have an idea,” she began, “Now, what if these statues, and bear with me on this,” she stressed, “Are actually supposed to have some kind of meaning?”

“What do -” Dranc went very still. “You can't mean...”

“Meaning? Wait, you can't be implying what I think you are,” Imryll recoiled in horror, “Are you saying that these crude lumps of stone are supposed to be Art?!”

“Yes,” Fallacy forced the words out painfully, “Think about it. What would art look like if it was... attempted, by a human?”

“I didn't believe they were capable of producing it,” Dranc said honestly, “So I did not ever consider the possibility. But I can see where you are coming from. To their unsophisticated minds, these brutish stone carvings are probably masterpieces.”

“Excuse me, while I resist the urge to regurgitate,” Imryll shook her head, “I'm sure I once saw an Exodite's pet dragon produce a more meaningful exhibit via the end result of it's digestive system.”

“So,” Dranc said, “Obviously, those four words each line up to a particular statue.”

“Yes,” Fallacy agreed, “I also think so.”

“This one,” Imryll walked around the statue of the Marine holding a globe, “My first thought would be 'Human distracted by shiny ball'. But I don't believe that is one of the options, so… a human watching over a planet, perhaps? I'd presume it's supposed to indicate vigilance.”

“The one with the human skewering the other human would be victory,” Dranc nodded, “His technique is shoddy. Skewering an enemy all the way through with your pole-arm is an excellent way to end up unarmed in the middle of a battle.”

“And I think that one is supposed to be a human leaning over another, slightly more dead human,” Imryll sighed, “I imagine that is supposed to be the 'sacrifice' statue, meaning that the kneeling human represents 'honour'. Trust the humans to find their honour in kneeling to their betters.”

“So clearly there is a trick to them,” Fallacy mused, before her sharp eyes caught sight of something. “There.” Leaning down, she tapped her finger to a small nodule on the base of the 'Vigilance' statue. “Something unusual. There are more of them, too. A small grid. I wonder...” idly, she wrote 'vigilance' by tapping the grid of nodules with her finger.

The statue promptly responded by turning, fully, until it was facing the door.

“Well, well,” Imryll tilted her head, “How quaint.”

It didn't take long for them to do the same with the other three statues. And, sure enough, as soon as the last word was entered, the stone door in front of them began to slide open.

Fallacy took the lead as they cautiously entered what looked to be a library of some kind. Most of the books and tomes they could see were long since ruined.

“You know, I'm kind of disappointed,” Fallacy sighed, “Only a fire trap and a simple ruse? I thought this place would be guarded with the same level of zealotry the humans manage to put into everything else they try to protect.”

“You've said it, now,” Dranc sighed, before he was promptly proven right.

“WHO ENTERS THE LIBRARY?”

Striding out of the shadows, every footstep seemingly shaking the earth, a giant human war machine made itself known. A construct the humans called a Dreadnought, this one coloured in grey and looking aged, but no less dangerous for it. It's right arm was fitted with a large, whirling cannon, while the left had a clenching fist that could no doubt crush any of them into paste.

“On the other hand, that,” Fallacy grinned, “Looks like a party.”

The Dreadnought paused, seemingly observing them.

“XENOS DETECTED,” it boomed suddenly, “PURGING WITH EXTREME PREJUDICE.”

The cannon on it's side started spinning, letting loose a hail of high-calibre bullets on the Harlequin's position as it charged forward. None of them stayed idle – blurred, distorted figures darting away in different directions.

Dranc found cover behind a large pillar, and let loose with his shrieker cannon, spraying the side of the Dreadnought with hyper-velocity monomolecular discs. He grimaced as he noticed that, while the discs were cutting into the heavy armour plating of the machine, none of them were penetrating the armour deeply enough to do damage. As the dreadnought returned fire with a significantly more deadly and uncomfortably accurate barrage, he dived out of his cover and sprinted toward another pillar before his current spot was too damaged to protect him from the metal monstrosity's cannon.

“PURE IS HIS FURY THAT ERUPTS FROM SIX BARRELS.” The Dreadnought's voice seemed to shake the room.

As he did so, the Dreadnought's fire became less accurate – not erratic, but more as though it was targeting something else that only it could see. The reason soon became clear – Imryll, glowing with wispy, ethereal energy, stood with a hand outstretched at the combat walker, throwing it's targeting astray with images and sensory readings of imaginary foes.

As it tried fruitlessly to destroy its non-existent foes, a prismatic blur of colour descended upon it – striking at it from every angle, cutting through the plating with ease, but seemingly not affecting its combat ability negatively in any way. Enraged, the Dreadnought brought up a foot, and slammed it down on the ground, shaking it and disrupting the footing of Dranc and Imryll as Fallacy leapt back to avoid the extremely localised earthquake that ensued. The problem became quickly apparent – while the Harlequin's Caress could easily phase through the metallic war machine's armour, it didn't have the reach to hit the vital systems without risking the wielder's life severely from the possibility of a counter-attack.

“IMPENETRABLE IS THE BULWARK THAT HE GRANTS US THROUGH FAITH.” The dreadnought continued to chant as he turned his attention to the Solitaire at his feet.

Seeing an opportunity to attack from behind. Imryll changed tactics, and charged at full speed. Leaping high into the air, she gripped her miststave in both hands and brought it down with a cry – right as her enemy suddenly turned, with surprising dexterity, the powerful claw on its arm clenched into a fist as it tried to punch her out of the air. She angled the stave to intercept the blow.

Boom.

Adamantium fist and Wraithbone stave collided as the mechanical matched power with the metaphysical. The two attacks connecting resulted in a shockwave that blasted throughout the room, scattering rocks and rubble, blowing away the remains of long-forgotten books, and staggering the dreadnought back – however, the war machine had the better of the encounter, as the force sent the Shadowseer flying away with a cry. Dranc was blown off his feet by the wave.

“Well, Mighty Metallic Champion of Mankind,” the Dreadnought turned to face Fallacy, “I must admit, I am disappointed!”

She strode out from behind another pillar, around a hundred meters away from the Dreadnought, staring him down with a wide grin. “You said you would be purging us with extreme prejudice, but the prejudice you've shown so far is really rather tame! You've spent all this time in a library, surely you must have had plenty of time to practice proper use of adjectives.”

For a moment, they stood off against each other; two ancient warriors. Brute force against impossible speed, mighty strength against peerless finesse, cold calculation against depthless cunning.

“DEATH IS HIS GIFT TO THE ALIEN AND THE TRAITOR.”

The dreadnought opened fire as the Solitaire moved.

The hail of bullets pelted the shapeless mass of colour as it charged directly toward the dreadnought. A literal wave of metallic death surged forth to obliterate the Harlequin, who in turn began a death-defying dance toward her opponent.

Duck. She let a round fly over her head.

Lean. Another passed through the air where her torso used to be.

Weave. She snaked around three more.

Flip. She passed between another two.

Spin. Another six flew by.

Roll. Another three.

Slide. Another four.

Leap. Another five.

Strike. Her leg lashed across the front of the Dreadnought's torso, right into the face-plate. It did not penetrate completely, but her eyes narrowed as she identified what may have been a weak point in the otherwise impenetrable armour.

In a flash, she zipped away from the war machine as it tried to grasp her with its crushing hand.

Her two allies had not been idle as they observed this, and both of them had seen it. Dranc was first to reach the dreadnought as it turned to face Fallacy, climbing up the lumbering giant with typical dexterity. He pulled himself up onto the top of the walker with an easy flip, before opening up on the face-plate with his shrieker cannon at practically point-blank range.

The Dreadnought reached up to grab the unwanted rider, but was cut off as a series of glowing projectiles slammed into it's side, staggering it. Imryll rejoined the fight with a vengeance, charging forward with a swarm of psychic energy projectiles floating around her, each one pelted at the guardian instantly replaced. Dranc continued to pelt the face-plate with shuriken, natural balance and grav-belt ensuring he did not lose his footing on the unsteady and impromptu platform.

Suddenly, the dreadnought opened fire again, this time on the Shadowseer, who was forced to reform her projectiles into a circular shield. The burst of fire connected, kicking up a significant cloud of dust. When it cleared, it was clear that the shield had held, but the moment's respite was all the dreadnought, a veteran of a thousand battles needed.

The fist shot up to grab Dranc. He neatly side-stepped the arm – but was not prepared for the giant hand to come loose from the arm, attached to a chain as it grabbed him. The dreadnought was rewarded with a startled cry from the Death Jester as he was pulled off the top of the walker, followed by a roar of pain as the hand began to close. The sound of bones snapping was drowned out by the triumphant rumble of the ancient war machine.

“FUTILE IS THE STRUGGLE OF HIS WRETCHED ENEMIES.”

A mighty crash staggered the Dreadnought again as Imryll's stave smashed down upon it's face-plate, smashing it off cleanly and revealing the near-corpse underneath. The once-mighty marine inside had long been reduced to a withered old husk, kept alive only by the life support systems inside the machine.

Imryll kicked away from the face plate as the dreadnought dropped Dranc in an attempt to bring it's arm to bear and defend the now-exposed weakness.

It wasn't fast enough. Fallacy's foot lashed down in a savage axe kick, finally ending the long, pained life of the operator. The dreadnought suddenly stuttered to a halt, before the lights across its hull began to power down, along with its limbs.

“Silence,” Fallacy finally declared once it became clear that the fight was won, “Is the gift that he just keeps on giving.”

--

“I think,” Dranc groaned, “I will endeavour to avoid your parties from this point on, Fallacy.”

Imryll checked him over with a shake of the head. “Left arm broken in three places, several broken ribs, other less significant injuries. You'll live, and you're not in any immediate danger, but we should not take any more chances. We should head back.”

“No,” Dranc rejected the idea, “As you said, I will live. Take this opportunity to search this place. I would rather this hadn't been for nothing.”

It took a few minutes of debate, but Fallacy and Imryll finally relented and began to search the ruins of the library. As they had previously noted, a significant number of the tomes present were ruined by decay – and even more were ruined by the fight. But they managed to find two books of interest.

One was a book detailing the psychic discipline of the Marine chapter who once lived there. The Tome of Black Fire would be studied extensively by Imryll, before it was handed to Fallacy to bring back to the Black Library – knowledge of any kind was to be treasured and stored there, even that from the lesser races. The other was an indecipherable book titled 'The Times of Fire', written in an unknown language, that Fallacy was absolutely sure was vital for them to take with them.

It seemed that, despite Dranc's injuries, the incursion was a success.

They had found their first clue.

Spoiler:
Minor defeat, Dranc injured and a pair of books to show for it. Still, they're pretty interesting books, by the looks of things.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/04/22 08:25:04


Post by: chazz huggins


Mordecai looked at the map layout of the 4th level of Cogger Hive. Eleven flags rested inside model buildings that indicated where these new intruders have taken up lodging. Mordecai looked at them with intrigue, who would be so bold as to enter the domain of the Flayed Legion, who would dare to defy the will of Father Lazarus. Reports suggest they are penal legionnaires, it is unlikely they came from Hive Cogger’s Prisons so where did they come from, another hive perhaps? Ultimately It mattered not who they were or where they came from, they would die like all the others. Mordecai looked to his would be sergeants and spoke “I want these lot to be made an example of, swarm the houses bring ten times as many men as we need. I want the bulk of these men alive, we will be sending them home fleshless.” The officers of chaos grinned at the prospect. Before Mordecai could give the final order a the crack of gunshots and las fire could be heard outside his den, by the sound Mordecai judged it some distance away from his den. Mordecai raised an eye brow beneath his mask “What in the warp?” Less than a minute later a messenger came storming in through thee doors “My Lord we are under attack.” Mordecai growled “You can’t handle some penal Legion dregs, you are a disgrace to our lord.” The messenger stuttered “My Lord I…” Mordecai raised a blade to the messenger's throat and growled “You what?” The cultists panicked fearing for his life “It’s the Inquisition my Lord, they march under the Inquisition’s banner.” Mordecai smiled beneath his mask “Good to know.” He then proceeded to slice the courier’s throat. Mordecai looked over to the Sergeants “There is no room in our ranks for cowards. This will be your only warning.” Everyone in the room nodded in understanding.

3434 knelt in cover behind a burnt out car avoiding the worst of the cultists auto gun fire. He blindly returned fire from his position, only to be met with more bullets. 34 looked to his left and saw Halouck and 1597 in a similar predicament hiding behind a car across the street. Halouck shouted “Frag out.” Before unpinning a grenade rising from his position and chucking it towards a cluster of advancing cultists. The bulk of the cultist scattered away for cover but a corrupted servitor that accompanied them was not so fortunate. The lobotomized heavy weapons platform was destroyed in a shower of blood, oil, meat and iron. The Grenade detonated the servitor’s pack of heavy bolter rounds taking with it an additional three cultists. However, these losses were ultimately meaningless, the Flayed Legion was an immortal brotherhood without number. Halouck barked into his wrist com “This is Operator Halouck squad 37582, requesting immediate reinforcement.” Prisoner 7387 was hit the throat by a sniper, the convict fell to the ground gasping for air. 34 watched as 7387 squirmed and suffer prisoner 5219 went to him. The convict had no intent of helping the dying man rather he sought to rob his still undug grave. 5219 claimed 4 LHO-sticks, 7387’s lucky shiv, a lewd picture of two women, and his boots which he tied around his neck. 1597 was disgusted by this at least two of those LHO-sticks were his. However, 5219’s loot grab seemed rather pointless as in less than a minute they would be overrun by cultists. A reply came from Halouck’s communicator “Operator Halouck this is crusader; reinforcements inbound stand by.”

From the streets behind the penal squad came the rumble. Three Malcador Assault Tanks came rolling up the boulevard. They fired their full arsenal at the cultists hordes, Heavy Stubbers and Bolters cutting down the horde, and the primary battle cannon demolishing the buildings they took cover in. The front of the tanks opened and thirty inquisitorial Storm Troopers clad triangular black silver carapace poured from them leading the charge was Captain Amanda Kid.

The sight of the Storm Troopers made many of the cultists break ranks and retreat. However many of them feared Mordecai more than they feared the inquisition. Kid began firing her hot shot las gun at the cultists as did the rest of her men. The cultist attempted to dig themselves back in but the heavy fire from tanks made it near impossible ass a single shot from the primary gun would crumble any defense they may erect. Arbitrator Halouck grinned at his good fortune and shouted “Prisoners advance.” The orange jump suit unit arose from their cover and finally got the chance to get some pay back. Their las guns set to half charge was able to cleanly pierce through the cultists salvaged flack armor. Kid slung her rifle around her back and drew her power axe and bolt pistol. Kid with a former Faustian knight and Catachan devil charged for their enemy. The cultists knew nothing of close combat and had naught a proper blade to defend themselves. Kid cut through ranks of the foes as did her subordinates, all the while the remaining troopers continued to rain hell fire upon the heretics. Realizing this firefight had become unwinnable the remaining cultists fled praying for their master to be merciful.

Kid spoke into her com bead “Fire team thunder report three casualties, negative on fatalities, sector 4-02 secured.” Arbitrator Halouck removed his helmet and approached Kid. The officer pounded his fist to his chest and spoke “Thank you Captain I appreciate your sudden intervention; I realize we are not high priority.” Kid wiped a swath of blood from her face and spoke “Think nothing of it, we were in the neighborhood. How many men did you lose?” “Only four.” Came Halouck’s reply. Kid sighed “You have my sympathies.” Halouck needed no such sympathies but would accept them regardless.

Meanwhile

Commissar Jethro Alenko shouted atop his lungs at the penal troopers under his command. “Focus fire on the heavy weapons teams.” It was after he said this he was forced to tackle a Arbitrator to the ground when he saw a molten beam fired from a las cannon approach him. The Arbite Sargent shook his head at the Commissar to thank him for his sudden intervention. Alenko quickly returned to shouting “I said focus fire damn it.” Warden Hoffman Fired his laslock at the advancing cultists and took out one of the Las Cannon operators, it was not long after another took his place, Hoffman shouted over at Alenko “We need to decommission that weapon battery.” Alenko nodded “Ajachus begin your assault.” It was Utilitarius who replied “We bring doom.”

Two groups of five terminators appeared in the flash of an eye the enemy learned what fear looked like and it was the sons of Titans. The hulking behemoths unleashed their Storm Bolter upon the cult before charging them with their glaives. Brother Athenar being adept in Biomancy casted iron arm and with a single cleave of his blade sent a dozen cultists flying. None escaped the paladin’s wrath such was his hate for the filth of traitors.

Mordecai watched his men flee from atop his tower. He would have each of those scum pay for their sins with a slow death. But that would have to wait, he needed each of them for the fight to come. Mordecai looked to his sergeants and spoke “We are moving deeper into the hive.” One of the men scoffed “Retreat Lazarus won’t like that.” Mordecai felt his rage grow as he took the soldier by his collar and growled “Do not pretend to know his will.” The man spat in return “You are a coward, and he will punish you like one.” Mordecai growled in a rage and lifted the soldier over his head and threw him over the tower balcony where he splatted on the metal ground bellow. Mordecai looked over to his remaining officers and growled “Anyone care to join him?” silence “I thought not.”

Inquisitor Garrett Randall holstered his plasma pistol and stepped over the half corpse of a dead cultist. Randall looked over to Alenko “I think we’ve made a good first impression.” The commissar grinned as he pried his blade free from a corpse “They are everything.” Captain Kid spoke her voice more serious, “Sir we have our enemy on the run, let us give chase into the underbelly of the hive.” Randall spoke “Don’t worry they won’t escape us, they’ve nowhere to run. We will tend to our wounded first then we will finish cleansing this place.” Paladin Utilitarius approached he seemed almost happy “Our work is not done here Captain, but we have struck a mighty blow against the fiends of the warp, take pride in that.” Captain Athenar was pleased by the paladin’s relatively friendly demeanor battle against the most detestable foes of the emperor had a odd way of calming Utilitarius. Randall spoke “Yes we have struck a mighty blow, but remember the beasts fights hardest when it is on the verge of death. This is not let over.”


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/04/22 21:18:10


Post by: Irishpeacockz


Faolan awoke to see the sky moving yet he was not or so he thought. Upon inspection he realised that he was being dragged through the mud by his brothers as he tried to gather his senses and realise what was going on. Then he remembered the trees, the orks, the ambush all of it, even getting plucked up like a flower in a colourful garden by those trees, the ones that moved ? A group of greenskins pounced out from the swaying treeline onto the retreating marines, a purple figure leapt forward to engage them. “Keep on moving, get the Alpha out of here, Pryce to me !” Faolan realised the figure was Cearul who had quickly taken command of the rapidly declining situation. Out of the ten orks charging the two astartes one leaped ahead thinking he could wipe the forest clean of the three squads of astartes scrambling to escape whatever madness they waltzed right into. All it earned him was Pryce Nye’s power sword through his groin nearly cutting him in two, Pryce went right and Cearul went left hacking, slashing and blocking blades with the greenskins in an attempt to buy their Alpha time to escape. As Cearul ran his power axe through the back of the last xenos the trees shuffled again revealing three dozen more orks charging and screaming for their heads. Like his Alpha Cearul order Pryce to disengage and fall back. With the ork mob in tow Cearul and Pryce saw the sweet sight of three thunderhawks loading their Alpha aboard, Cearul motioned for his brothers to take up firing positions “Orks are on there way set up a killzone !” The marines held their fire until all the orks had entered the killzone. In unison a chorus of bolter fire and dying screams echoed throughout the nearby jungle as ork blood flooded the clearing saturating it with both the blood and spores of the greenskins. As soon as the last round was fired Cearul went to check on Faolan, Faolan seemingly fine put one hand on Cearul’s shoulder and grinned, “Fine job lad, now make sure to incinerate this clearing, we do not want more ferals to sprout out of the ground” nodding Cearul relayed the order to Pryce who would see it done. With their heads hanging in defeat the Emperor's Hounds headed for Canis Caelum, just in time for dinner.

The Cuir Airde land back in Canis Caelum where Apothecary Siron was awaiting by the landing pad to examine the Alpha’s injuries. Faolan stepped out onto the landing pad, the rain from earlier had picked up and the mist had parted, reminding Faolan of home. Siron approached Faolan to examine his “injuries” but Faolan was in no mood for check ups and told the apothecary to call by his quarters later. Faolan attempted to wander in the vague direction of his quarters, the fall to the head he sustained left things a little blurry, not that he would admit such a thing that would lead to more medical examinations. Luckily he found his way to the door to his quarters and entered inside. Faolan eagerly embraced the comforting arms of his chair as he fell into it. Pouring himself a drink he waiting for the inevitable company that would knock on his door at any moment. Faolan closed his eyes and enjoyed the brief moment of peace and quiet before Techmarine Cadfael barged in. “Not even a knock ?” Asked Faolan as he came crashing down from his peaceful slumber. “Apologies my lord, this is something that cannot wait, our scanners have picked up the location of nearby ruins which I believe may have once belonged to the Blood Dragons Chapter that once prowled this moon. I believe power artefacts may still yet remain and it would be worth our while to secure them.” Faolan frowned and scratched his head, trying to keep track of every chapter in the Imperium from memory is an impossible task “Is there any chapter related to these Blood Dragons ?” “Besides from the Blood Angels or the Blood Ravens due to similar Iconography no nothing” Faolan nodded “Very well then anything we find is ours seeing as can not find a next of kin as it were. You may go as soon as you are able brother Cadfael but take Rhodri with you and two tactical squads just to be sure” Cadfael donned a expression that was a mix of confusion and caution “ May I ask why am I bringing Rhodri my lord ?” Faolan shrugged “ Just to get him out of my hair” Cadfael bowed and began to make his preparations. Faolan called out to the techmarine before he departed for his excavation “ Send in Siron, tell him to get this medical examination over and done with !” Siron stood back up, checking Faolan’s vitals for the nineteenth time “ Your injuries were not fatal but I would advise against any operations for the next twenty four hours, nothing some good rest will fix” Faolan scoffed “Rest ? The Emperor’s Angels of Death do not need rest just enemies to smite” a few seconds of silence passed before being broken by a guilty Faolan “Apologies Siron my mood has been foul of late and you are just doing your duty I can not be annoyed at you for that” Faolan sat up from the bed “Be on you way brother” Siron bowed and departed without saying a word.

Cadfael’s pace quickened to he closer he got to the landing pad where Tactical squads Mara and Uirlis awaited his arrival. One of the tarantula turrets went on the fritz must as he was about he depart, merely an issue with the wires, so easy a servitor could have done it thought Cadfael as he raced around the second to last corner to the thunderhawks. To say Cadfael was excited was an understatement, he was giddy almost like a child awaiting a present. The kind of ancient technology was could have been left behind by his brethren had him grinning ear to ear, thank the Emperor and the Omnissiah that I donned my helmet this day reflected Cadfael as it hid some of his excitement from his brothers, yet despite the helmet his voice betrayed him bearing the slightest tone of excitement in it. The same grin vanished like a sugary donut in Tobias Payne’s presence as Cadfael rounded the last corner to see Hound Master Rhodri impatiently tapping his foot on the spot. “Did you rewire half of Canis Caelum ? I do not have time to be waiting around or visiting dusty ruins, I have work to do directly from Baltair Seoc himself” declared Rhodri “Seems you will have to make time then, Faolan Gall wants you on this mission Emperor knows you are not here on my request” retorted Cadfael “Enough” sighed Rhodri “Let us get this over with, I will fly with Mara” said Rhodri as he entered the awaiting thunderhawk to the left, suits me just fine thought Cadfael as he entered the thunderhawk on the right with squad Uirlis.

The journey to Site Henry was silent, Cadfael stared at Rhodri and Rhodri pretended not to notice, but he did. Every marine in that thunderhawk could feel the tension between the apothecary and the techmarine. Brother Dai broke the silence over the onboard communications “Brothers, sensors indicate the fortress is down below but it is covered in foliage, there a small clearing to the north I will set you down there, you must hike to the south to reach the fortress” Cadfael moved his gaze from the apothecary “Very well brother, do what you must”. A few moments later a green light flashed indicating the marines to get ready. Brother Dai set the gunship down “Good fortune in your search brothers, Emperor guide you” “And you as well” muttered Rhodri as he brushed past Cadfael out onto the jungle floor. Setting out in the vague direction of the ruined fortress according to their information. The jungle was thick and no natural paths had been made, Cadfael estimated that they may have been the first people here in centuries. Drawing his chainsword his began cutting back the foliage, his brothers began to do the same with their combat knives. “This will slow our travelling time immensely” sighed Rhodri as he chopped through a bush, “Indeed it will but we should still reach Site Henry before the moon rises” stated Cadfael stepping over a hacked shrub. As the marines headed deeper and deeper into the green abyss the thicker the overhanging canopy had become, so much so that only a sliver of sunlight was shining through the canopy illuminating the various insects that lived amongst the overgrowth on the ground. Fours hours later after they decided to carve their path through the jungle, Cadfael studied his dataslate to gauge their progress, they were close, after carving a few more trees down in the general direction of the fortress he discovered a clearing in the woods, looking up he saw no sun, no sky, no moon. All he saw were more damned branches and leaves. “As far as I know Site Henry should be in this clearing” announced Cadfael “Fan out and search this area”. The limited sunlight highlighted the treeline to his left where he spotted a grey surface beneath the raging overgrowth, hacking away the vines Cadfael placed his hand over this new surface, stone, deduced Cadfael. Turning to his right and traced the length of the wall. The grey surface that he was trailing his finger along suddenly gave way. Stumbling forward through the sprawling overgrowth, Cadfael discovered a highly ornate door. Cutting away the vines surrounding the door he took a step to examine his find. A pair of twin doors stood slightly ajar, they were thick,made out of oak and reinforced with steel. A dragon was exquisitely carved on both doors. “Brothers !” Smirked Cadfael “We have found our prize” the doors hinges protested as they creaked open.

Darkness greeted them as they entered Site Henry through a narrow passage that stretched ten meters and two marines could fit abreast.The air was stale and dusty and their enhanced eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness. The passage opened out onto a large hall. Cadfael imagined his brothers stalking this hall and greeting visitors here, now all that remained was dust and filth. Searching the hall they discover four passages similar to the one they entered through, two were blocked off due to the roof collapsing in on them, leaving two to be explored. “I’ll take the left you take the right” decided Cadfael as he went off to search the ruins eagerly. Rhodri was also eager but not for the same reasons as his brother, he was eager to end this foolish mission and return to tracking that beast that Turlach had tracked, not crawling around in a dusty tomb like scavengers. Rhodri navigated his way down the right passage and something caught his gaze, a corpse. A corpse ? Here ? Must have been recent reflected Rhodri. Upon inspection the corpse was quite old but not as old as the fortress itself otherwise it would be naught but dust. Many of it’s innards have decayed, it’s once fine thick hair was now matted and grey, Rhodri spotted dried blood around its mouth, this one went down fighting deduced Rhodri. As he left the decaying dog behind he continued on into the room at the end of the passageway. Dozens of similar corpses littered the room along with many dead orks. Rhodri’s heart sank as some of the corpses were no more than puppies, they died defending their young realised Rhodri as he searched for anything of use. Disappointed and disheartened Rhodri made for the door back down the passage, the scraping of wooden startled Rhodri who spun on his heels and was now scanning the room. Out from under a wooden plank stumbled a young pup. Rhodri’s instincts kicked in as he moved to comfort the terrified puppy. The puppy attempted to run away but Rhodri was too quick and picked up the dog with ease. The puppy was just skin and bone barely hanging onto life, it was a male and was perhaps related to if not the same breed that Turlach had found on Pratt. Cadfael’s voice boomed down the corridor as he walked into the room “Rhodri my passage led to a door, I believe that if we can re-” Cadfael looked up to see the massacre and the young in Rhodri’s hands “What in the Emperor's name is all this ?” “A massacre, orks stormed this place probably looking for loot and killed most the the hounds that were only trying to defend their young, I will be taking this one back to Canis Caelum” Cadfael nodded “Fair enough, join me in the hall when you are ready to discuss this door I mentioned” Delighted with his find Rhodri turned and perhaps this was not a wasted trip after all smirked Rhodri as he made his way to the hall back through the narrow passage to see what Cadfael was babbling on about this door.
Spoiler:
Action takes place at Canis Caelum and in Cly at Site Henry


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/04/23 01:20:50


Post by: Kharne the Befriender


=====Conference Room, Yankor, Luna Epsilon=====

Grulahk, Tach’var, and Numek sat in the ventilated conference room, both Grulahk and Tach’var stared at Numek uncomfortabley. Numek took a deep draw from his cigar and blew a smoke ring, he obvious enjoyment at his new found talent began to subside as he looked at his companions.
“What are you two looking at?”
“Don’t play that gak with me Numek, you know exactly what we’re looking at.”
“My new lungs are of no concern to you.” He looked at Tach’var and held out the cigar, “Want to try it?”
“Sure.” He reached over the table and grabbed the still lit cigar and took a couple puffs before passing it back, “Not bad.”
“You two are joking right? Am I actually going mad?”
“Stop being over dramatic, you should be pleased to know that progress is going very well.”
“Good to hear…” It was again silent in the room, Grulahk swiveled in his chair, “Numek, by the time I get to the deployment bay, I want 4 squads of Warriors, 3 squads of Immortals, and a squad of Praetorians ready. Send the Scythes to drop us off outside of Hive Cogger, I’m going to see how are cultist friends are doing.”

=====The Maw, Hive Cogger, Dierdra, Luna Epsilon=====

The Scythes screamed over the ground seemingly splitting the air as the flew, their impeccable speed allowing them to reach the drop zone in under an hour. All 8 Scythes passed over the target without slowing, an amber radiance coming from under their hulls. Grulahk looked around and did a headcount, making sure everyone was there, all was well. He motioned for them to move towards the Hive and they began their metallic march. Grulahk was in the mood for some song but decided against seeing his Legion probably wouldn’t sing, and he wouldn’t force them. It was a simple 5 minute walk to a collapsed portion of the wall known as ‘The Maw’. As he approached he saw several Cultists appear and aim weapons at them. His Warriors began to raise theirs but he motioned from them to lower them. A couple autogun shots went off striking the ground in random areas, they stopped and a cultist stood up and lowered a radio from his head, “Y-You may enter!” Grulahk nodded and renewed his march into the city. Grulahk was escorted by a few Cultists towards one of the spires. On his way he caught a glimpse of a particular group adorned in banners and iconography of a dragon, these men seemed more competent than the average cultist, and better equipped to. After a few more minutes of walking through war torn streets they reached a spire. He walked inside and into a foyer unsure of where to go next. He heard a voice come from his left, who ever spoke was apparently recovering from injury,
“When my men radioed me and said we had men made of metal at the gate I almost didn’t believe them.” Grulahk walked into a room that appeared to be an office. “But here stand a member of the Necron regent, I am Father Lazarus, and what is your name?”
“I am Grulahk, Second Nemesor of Kageros.” Grulahk hung his staff on a coat rack and sat in one of the chairs, it creaked and groaned under the weight of the Necron. “Kageros has spoken with one of the Flayed Lords captains, he has told me to come speak with you here, how can I be of assistance?”
“As of current i’m organizing the Hive’s defenses. Are you aware of the Blood Dragon ruins present in the system?”
“Indeed I am. Are they of much use?”
“They are, you see, some of these Ruins contain magnificent artifacts. Perhaps you can help us find them?”
“I’d be glad to, we have scanners at the Megalith that we can use. In the meantime, I will leave my men here to help with the defense.”
“Your help is appreciated Grulahk.”
“I will contact you when we find one of these Ruins.”
Grulahk exited the spire and gave his Praetorians commands to aid the Cultists. A Scythe screamed overhead and picked him up.

=====Megalith Site, Yankor, Luna Epsilon=====

Grulahk sat in the scanning room observing the monitors. So far nothing had been found, but Grulahk had an idea.
“Boost the signal, perhaps we can find something deep in the jungle.” The Warrior in charge began boosting the signal more and more. The room suddenly lit up in an amber flash as the equipment before him exploded. Grulahk stood back up and spoke into his communicator, “Numek, come fix the scanner.”
“What happened?”
“I may or may not have blown it up…”
“How?!”
“Just come fix it.”
Numek was at the rooom in under 5 minutes and surveyed the damage. “This will take at least a week to fix.”
---About A Week Later---
“Fixed.” Numek looked over the machinery and nodded in confidence.
“Thank you Cryptek, help me boost this signal. I am looking for Ruins of these ‘Blood Dragons’.” They began pressing buttons and monitoring screens, it took about an hour before something pinged on the screen. Grulahk grinned and grabbed the communicator he had attuned to Lazarus’ signal.
“Lazarus, we’ve found one.”

Spoiler:
My Necrons are still alive.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/04/23 21:04:44


Post by: Ezra Tyrius


Following the creation of an entry point into the ruins below, the excavation of Site Delta had commenced in earnest, Astartes and human working alongside one another to clear the vast halls and rooms of rubble and debris. Although the old outpost had suffered a long period of disuse, its structure and interior had held up rather well against the passage of time thanks to the thick layers of ice shielding it from the elements.

Unfortunately, this was also the case for the internal defence systems, which had cost the life of a single cultist and had put several others into the care of the Remnants' Apothecarium.
Three groups of Astartes carefully descended deeper into the complex, hoping to find a way to disable the defence systems before any more casualties fell. After several hours, and many lucky escapes from activated boobytraps, Lord Breacher’s group stumbled upon the command centre, from which he managed to reprogram the defences.

From that point on, the Remnants went unopposed in their efforts to claim this ancient structure for themselves.

After the rubble was cleared, the rest of the Remnants' equipment and personnel was brought down to the surface, and the base was soon bristling with all kinds of activity. The structure was fortified, vox-scramblers and jammers were planted in a large area around the base, rooms were reorganized and retrofitted with equipment, all to turn the base into a veritable fortress.

The Commander was coordinating the situation from within the command centre, whilst the other Lords were mostly busy with keeping their charges in check. Lord Breacher had been especially excited about the local armoury, while Lord Executioner and Lord Apostate were fascinated by the impressive fresco's and inscriptions covering the walls of the base.

But the Remnants were on Crion for more than simply creating a base for themselves. It was time to discuss what their next move would be...
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Commander stood in the centre of the command hub, his eyes locked on the hologram of the three planets in the system floating above the room’s central table. The other Lords did the same, occasionally sifting through the dataslates that a couple of servitors were passing around.

All eyes looked up when the door to the command centre slid open with a soft hiss, revealing the grand shape of the Sorcerer’s heavy Terminator armour. A keen eye could still see the faint traces of deep cuts and rents across the exquisitely crafted chest plate, a reminder of the diabolic power of the Daemon Prince he had helped slay.

Lord Apostate’s face contorted into an amused grin as the Sorcerer stepped into the room.

“Well, well, well”, he spoke, as he locked eyes with the Sorcerer. “If it isn’t our Lord Sorcerer. How good of you to finally join us.”

The Word Bearer’s sarcasm garnered no response from the Sorcerer, who calmly took his rightful place at the command table.

“You’re late”, Lord Breacher grumbled.

The remark seemed to amuse the Sorcerer, who tilted his head in the Iron Warrior’s direction.

“On the contrary, Lord Breacher. I arrive precisely when I mean to”, the Sorcerer replied, his grin hidden behind his gold-plated helmet.

“Perhaps now that we are all here, we can discuss our current predicament”, the Commander spoke, his voice carrying a hint of irritation.

Everyone turned their eyes towards the hologram, as the image zoomed in on Crion itself.

“Crion. Breadbasket of an entire sector. Up until six months ago, one would have had difficulty finding a world more untouched by conflict.”

The hologram zoomed in again, focussing on one of the great green plains of the planet. A dirty brown smear appeared in the centre of the screen. Upon closer inspection, crude buildings and vehicles could be seen, alongside several brutish figures pacing back and forth.

“Orks”, Lord Ravager snorted in disgust. “The Greenskin menace rears its ugly head again.”

“Indeed it does”, the Commander continued. “The last reports we’ve intercepted hinted at the Ork factions on this world uniting to strike at the Imperial presence.”

“Reports that turned out to be truer than the Governor had expected”, the Sorcerer added. “A crew of their Kommando’s managed to strike at the Governor’s Mansion itself, while the Imperial forces were gathered there no less.”

The other Lords were taken aback by that information. The Orks were a tenacious species, but for them to be so audacious in their efforts was… unexpected.

“Speaking of the Mansion, did we not have an informant placed there?” Lord Apostate asked.

“We still do, fortunately”, the Commander replied. “Our informant not only managed to survive the Greenskins’ raid, he also gave us valuable intel on the Imperial presence assembled in this system, did he not, Lord Sorcerer?”

The Sorcerer unclipped a dataslate from his belt, and connected it to the hologram. A list of names, accompanied by heraldry and a somewhat accurate pic-capture of their face appeared in sequence in the hologram.

“As you can see, the Imperium is not planning on leaving anything up to chance.”

“Then perhaps we must search for suitable allies”, Lord Apostate spoke, his eyes lingering on some of the projected names. “Was there not word of a rebellion on one of the moons?”

“I suppose you mean Hive Cogger, on Luna Epsilon?”, Lord Executioner retorted. “The Imperials have lost contact with it some time ago. Whether the rebellion was successful or not is yet to be determined.”

“We will discuss that matter later”, the Commander spoke, his voice suddenly weary. “For now, we will keep ourselves off everyone’s radar, so that our activities may continue without unnecessary interruptions. Return to your charges, and see to your respective duties. Dismissed.”

With that, the group dispersed, each of the Lords heading back to their assigned quadrants. The Sorcerer remained, surrounded only by the noises of the machines lining the walls and the servitors pacing around the room.

He disconnected the dataslate, clipping it back to his belt, and watched intently as the hologram of Crion and its two moons appeared again.

He felt his mind tingle as he reached out into the Etherium, there were the future was already written, although the words were ever-changing. His eyes rolled back into his skull as he opened his mind to the madness beyond.

Three worlds burn, their surface turning to ash;

A bloodied jester smiles, and another weeps;

Four giant machines march to their doom;

Dogs and wolves cry to the heavens;

A blood-red eye casts a baleful gaze;

A flayed man lays his head to rest;

And above them all;

The moon waxes.



Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/04/24 23:15:25


Post by: EvergreenArcher


[Jorgan, Crion]

It was time.
Dig
The small force of raveners began to claw their way underground. The ground easily gave way beneath their sharpened talons. They had started the tunnel well into the tree line outside of the ork settlement. Their job was to dig underneath them, and sow terror and destruction in their wake as the main force charge through the front. They would not know what hit them, and then they would be biomass for the reclamation pools. Like the rest of them.

The main bulk of the swarm still consisted of warrior forms and raveners ever since the failed assaults on the trees. Half of the force was given rending claws or other close combat weaponry, while the others were given devourers and deathspitters. The infiltration force was in place.
Begin the Attack. Slaughter them all. Leave none standing. For the Hive.
The Great One charged out of the tree line, with the Leaping Terror right behind it. Warriors and raveners were spilling out of the gaps between the thick jungle trees. Bio-acid and beetles rained down upon the surprised greenskins. All manner of shots began to bounce off of the hardened carapaces of the tyranid mass. For every bio-form knocked down, another took its place. The swarm was not as big as it should be, but they were still tyranids.

Under a hail of fire, the wooden walls protecting the orks were brought down. The Waaagh! Of Kort BloodSpitta met Hive Fleet Cerberus. It was brutal. Both sides took massive losses upon the first impact. The Great One fired its venom cannon point blank into one nob, completely shredding the flesh off of his bones, before those too, were shredded. The Leaping Terror attacked and eliminated any ork racking up a kill count. Just then, the lictor jumped over a fallen warrior form to land squarely on the back of a victorious nob. He just had time to glance up before he never could again. The charge was halted as the overwhelming numbers of the orks started to show. The bio-forms continued the struggle to gain the upper hand.

The sounds of footsteps could be heard overhead. As it got louder and louder, the ambush was sprung. With a massive roar dirt and mud gave way beneath the gathering ork horde. Raveners climbed out to rend and tear. They wouldn’t be able to. With this sight, the orks were not willing to lose their force from two sides. The ambush force from the back was the final straw. The ork horde retreated by cutting through any opposition they found until they were running into the jungles to find somewhere else to go. The ork fortress had fallen, but many greenskins remained, including Kort BloodSpitta. Much still needed to be done to finish them off. For now, the hive had to consume and fall back. Reinforcements must be made.

Long Live the Hive

Spoiler:
My tyranids were engaged in a battle over the fort. I rolled a minor victory and ousted them from it, while only trading blows. Kort still lives, for now.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/04/25 09:44:45


Post by: jhe90


A Ferrasian feast

Yarl Agmar tidied up the last of his dark beard and checked the result in a dented metal mirror hung off a broken bracket on the bare wall, the base was Spartan but now lit and heated seemed alot more like a home. Next stop the Knight Scions floor, Amanda valorn stepped out waiting, “ your late Agmar, never keep a lady waiting” “ja but in ferrasian the time felt right” She had to laugh the wolves where a odd lot but
Honest and loyal to those they choose, if maybe a bit more lose on timing than some. “Shall we go to the feast then?” “Aye but first, “ handing her a small token in a old knight tradition. “Old wolves learn new tricks too”

Thee feastvwas a loud affair and boasts, tales and sagas grew in magnitude as the ales consumed increased, several fights, drinking contests and bouts of competive telling of sagas later the various space marines and humans of the two allies staggered back to the upper levels of the storm battered tower they called home. Winds howled and mighty forks of lighting lit the sky like day light for a fraction of a heartbeat.

No one noticed two figures huddled close fpr warmth together on a small flat balcony huddled in thick furs watching the storms lash the northern bastian of the space port and lighting illuminate the shape of towering space marines Manning the storm battered defences.

A lords anger

“Eldar, eldar… enough of just orks and chaos we get the space elves too! Rumurs of those in masks who dance in shadows and impossible acrobatics. Could it be?”

“Mask clad shadows, the ainciant for of the shrine world? It could be Lord Storm claw” Conan replied, but when you found one, you normally found more of the elagant and arogent xeno. “Aye conan, the dancing trickster, the mask hiding al
, the harliquin. There aims unknown” slamming a fist into the table there emnity was earned long ago and rumurs of involvement in the death of a previous great wolf was enough to heat the blood in the coldest ferasiasn winter.

“Damn them, reckoning be it when we catch them. Put extra wolves on guard on the permitter, there smell will serve better than sensors vs this for. Order a small task force to purge the small ork boat camp located on the coast while your at it, burn the boats”

“Aye lord storm claw, it will be done”

Part two to follow


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/04/25 19:12:31


Post by: Sgt_Smudge


Taskforce Alpha

Harland cowered deeper into his hood. It still smelled of the dead street beggar he'd hauled it off. Vestiges of blood caked the interior - the Gue'vesa wasn't sure if that was the previous owner's cloak, or the rats' that were devouring his corpse. There were no rats in the Tau Empire. Harland had been taken aback by the brutes' ferocity. That didn't stop him from putting two pulse rounds into their dank furry hide.

The human auxiliary slumped next to a street corner - his dark eyes peering out from under the hood. A team of Arbites strode through the rain, regarding Harland with disdain. The silver rain ran off their black carapace and combat shotguns. Harland turned away from them under his hood, and they passed by him. Stupid Arbites.

Warm amber light spilled out from an opening door. Inside, a throng of civilians made merry, singing and carousing. Drinking away reality. The cantina doors shut almost as soon as they had opened, and a ragged mess shuffled out into the dark cold rain. The other hooded figure splashed across the street. Harland glanced up, and grinned. Water dripped from his face.

"A Throne, please? For the Greater Good?"

The figure gave him an indecipherable glance, and moved closer to Harland. She pulled back her hood, and whispered into his ear.
"Just wait for the sun."

The two auxiliaries crept into the shadowy side street, their cloaks barely keeping out the cold. They sheltered under an overhang, and removed their hoods. Harland could just make out Sera's dark face in the shadows, and he bade her give her report in a hushed whisper.

"The chief figure here is a Lord Mayor Javier Maldonado. He's not really seemed to have taken a side in this civil war, and has ignored the Tillers in the city. Apparently, being the only stable city on the continent has led to a lot of ork attacks. There's been no rebellions to take power, not just yet, but there are certainly rebels in the city. For now, the nobles and the impoverished have joined forces, although I suspect that this is a fragile peace."

"Excellent work, Sera." Harland muttered. "Let's get that back to Ghostwalk."
The two Gue'vesa pulled their stolen goods over their heads, and crept down Ros Hannoi's dark streets.

------------------------------

Taskforce Sigma

"You've got the package?"

The auxiliary at Vandred's side nodded, and gestured to the the sack of guns. Vandred peered inside. A veritable treasure trove of Tau pulse weapons looked up at him. Mostly pulse pistols, but a few rifles and carbine were thrown in the mix too. Of course, only a scant few of the guns had magazines, but there would be enough for a few test fires if the clients wanted a trial run. He'd made sure that after last time, they were ready.

His meeting the day before had been with the rebel Tillers, and whoever was leading their section against the loyalist troops. Vandred and a team of some of his best had snuck close to their barricade and asked to trade goods. After a few minutes of negotiations, the Tau were let over the walls and the rebels oversaw a test firing of the weapons. Vandred saw the look in the eyes of their commander, and knew he had him. No man could resist the promise of a bigger gun. When Vandred brought up payment, the man faltered. They had nothing to pay the auxiliaries back, but would get to it. He swore an oath on it - it had seemed genuine. Vandred had smiled, and said they'd be back to sort out payment. If the loyalists didn't give them a better offer.

This time, Vandred had his men hang back, save for his adjutant. The two of them crept in front of the loyalist barricade, and asked for the trade again. After a few moments of muttering, the sentry let them in. Oil can braziers lit up behind the barricade. There was hardly any men behind it - the only resistance was a three man team, and a heavy stubber. Vandred ignored it, and began his sales pitch.

"You boys look like you could use some more firepower here."

"We'll manage. What have you got? Food? Ammo? Spare parts?"

Vandred grinned. "Better." He gestured to the open bag of guns. He brandished a pistol from it, and blasted it at the wall. It tore through the ferrocrete, sending chunks of rock skittering everywhere. The soldiers looked impressed. Now Vandred would need to use his bluffing.
"These are Imperial Mark Seventy-Four plasma weapons, and they're all yours, if you can pay up."

The soldiers didn't seem to buy it. "Mark Seventy-Four? I swear we were only on Mark Twenty-Six?"
"That's also what I heard. And 'em don't look like any Imperial plasma gun?"
"Exactly what I was th-th-thinking."

Vandred raised his hands in mock surrender.
"Easy, lads. I'm only just passing on what I got told. And I can assure you, this is what the new Mark Seventy-Fours look like. Perhaps you'd like to trial one?"

"I dunno who sent you, but th-those don't look right."
"And if those ARE gen-u-ine plasma guns, why are we payin' for 'em?"
"Yeah. You some kind of scavenger? Or some Tiller traitor selling gak unto us?"

Vandred brandished the pulse pistol onto them, and warned them. "Listen, I'm giving you these guns here, if you're willing to buy. If you don't want to, we'll move on by and-"
"Sell them on to them Tillers? I don't think so!"

The guardsmen rushed Vandred and his adjutant, fists clenched. Vandred squeezed the trigger. Out of ammo. Vandred had a moment to curse his own error when a fist smashed into his face. His adjutant went down next to him, bleeding from a nasty gash. Vandred started to get up, and found a thick boot holding him down.
"Sorry pal, but I think these are our guns now."
The guardsman hauled up the sack of pulse guns, and sprinted further back into Imperial lines. The other two guardsmen hauled Vandred to his feet. One pulled the auxiliary's arms back and the other pulled his fist back to punch. Vandred was ready for the wind to be knocked out of him.
He wasn't ready for a pulse round to take the guardsman's fat head off.

The other man holding Vandred back staggered away from the spurt of blood, releasing him. The Sub-Commander followed up, elbowing the Imperial in the face, sending him sprawling into the filthy street. The guardsman shuffled away from Vandred, and his eyes widened as the rising Sub-Commander was flanked by a pair of Fire Warriors, toting "Mark Seventy-Four plasma guns". His bloody lips trembled as he uttered his last word.

"Tau?"

The sound of gunfire and bright blue flashes rippled down the street.

----------------------------

Taskforce Ultra

Shas'O Skyhunter strode into the barn. All pretences of fear or worry had left the elite strike cadre: no Imperials had investigated the old man's crops, and Shadowbrand's automated drone network would pick up anything larger than a field mouse. They were untouchable. Inside the barn, the team's various Battlesuits hung limp and dormant, their pilots enjoying the downtime.

Shas'vre Fue'Tan was the first to aknowledge Skyhunter's presence, and raised his bonding knife in his direction. The rest of the team followed suite, saluting their commander. Skyhunter dismissed them, and continued on. Shadowbrand approached him.

"Any word from our stealth drones, Shas'El?" Skyhunter spoke.

Shadowbrand grinned. Her blue-grey skin pulled away to reveal a sharp, white grin, and her amber eyes lit up.
"All that we need. Black Water Bastion, as the humans call it, has been fully mapped out. No-one saw our drones, and we now have accurate readouts on all the ammunition stores, barracks, surgeries, latrines, power generators and heaters, and command posts. And whatever else. All the data's been sent back to Cadre Command, and they're calculating the garrison's response times to an attack." She seemed flushed with victory, as if the battle had already been won. In many ways, it could have been. She continued. "This is easier than I thought - you'd have thought they weren't at war."

Skyhunter grinned from inside his Crisis suit. "I've heard the older Gue'vesa use an old Imperial phrase - I think it's rather apt now."
Shadowbrand cocked her head, expecting him to continue.

"No-one expects the Imperial Inquisition."



Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/04/26 02:38:01


Post by: TheEyeOfNight



++LUNA EPSILON//HIVE COGGER++

The Drachen trucks lumbered through the streets of Cogger's lower levels, lighting up the debris-ridden streets ahead with flickering headlights and the occasional chatter of bored gunfire. Lamech stood in the back of the third truck, resting his arms on the top of the cab while his gunner swung the gun back and forth. The missing patrols had last been in this area, and Lazarus seemed cautious, but Lamech was convinced it was nothing more than leftover orks from the Maw. He hissed frustration through the beaten-iron skull helmet he wore, and debated for the eighth time if he was going to try to paint it white. It was rumored that the Flayed Legionnaires wore white helmets out of deference to the Flayed Lord. Perhaps the Chaos Lord himself would smile on Lamech if he did the same? No, Mordecai had worn a white mask for years, and Lamech was determined not to follow in anyone's footsteps. He would find his own way to-

The truck lurched to one side, clipping a nearby promethium supply line and throwing a shower of sparks. Snapping from his thoughts, Lamech snarled into his radio.

"Mind the pipes! Don't want to go up like some sort of-"

The lead truck exploded in a storm of flame, slamming sideways off the road, trailing smoke and screams. What might have been written off as a freak accident didn't fool the Cogger natives, and the blast illuminated a brief glimpse of slender red armor, painted like fire, melting away into the shadows near the pipe. Eldar! Lamech had never seen one himself, but he had heard a thousand terrifying stories, and with a malicious grin he determined to write the thousand-and-first himself.

"Xenos!" He snatched the electro-whip from his belt and pointed ahead. "Light them up!"

The trucks swung around to broadside that part of the pipes, and the heavy stubbers began to beat a steady drumbeat, showering the shadowy areas in sparks, shrapnel, and a cacophany of ruin. It was a warning to the rest of the trucks more than anything. The Eldar were like ghosts, gone the moment one fully set eyes on them, but Lamech caught the flash of a single green-armored leg, extended a heartbeat too soon from its cover. He pounded once on the top of the cab.

"Haul right!"

The truck skidded sideways, slamming into the green-suited warrior as he stepped into the street and sending him crashing to the ground. Lamech leaped down, lashing the electro-whip around the eldar's legs and triggering the hilt. The whip was normally used to bring down Ogryn's and even aspect armor couldn't keep out the scalding bursts of energy. The warrior convulsed on the ground, and a half-dozen cultists immediately set upon him with spikes of rebar.

Lamech ignored the alien screams, yanking the whip free with a laugh. The shadows were alive with movement, there were dozens more of the xenos, but any hiveganger knew the key to a fight was the other gang boss. As if on cue, the warlock, glowing with psychic power, was within his sight. Had he a single thought to appreciate beauty, Lamech might have compared her to an angel or a spirit from another realm. But the Drachen had no head for poetry or art, and he was having far too much fun to stop and admire anything but blood.

Lamech cracked the whip, discharging the lingering current into the air with a loud snap. He grinned behind his skull mask, advancing steadily on the slender warlock, already envisioning the barbs making her dance in agony on the street. She turned towards him, but did not retreat, or even flinch as he stalked closer. Her face had a curious expression, even for a xenos.

Was it surprise? Irritation? Fear, even?

No, he realized suddenly, skidding to a halt. It was patience. The warlock was waiting calmly for something.

The cultist to Lamech's left split in half without more than a gurgle, and a crimson sword lashed out between the falling remains, scything through the air where Lamech would have stood a heartbeat later. The Drachen laughed behind his mask, snapping his right arm back to slash the electro-flail across the Eldar's torso.

The strike never landed. The whip rolled out in front of Lamech's feet, accompanied by the sudden, bodily chill of shock and blood loss as he realized his arm had been neatly shorn away above the elbow. The banshee champion drew the blade, cutting loose a thunderous shriek from his helmet, and made to disembowel the stunned cultist.

The heavy stubbers thudded to life, scattering heavy slugs across the street in a random blitz of iron hail. A handful of eldar, closing in around the wounded cultist, were beaten back in a spray of xenos blood and armor shards. Aelvin spun away, cutting his sword through another cultist as he leaped away from the flying debris of the roadway. Cultists surrounded Lamech, their autoguns chattering blindly in all directions as the sheer weight of the fire pushed back the Eldar counterattack, and a steady hiss rose in the background.

"Get back! Get back!" Lamech felt them lift him up, slamming him into the back of one of the gun trucks, but the world was a dull roar around him past the freezing horror spreading through his body. "Move! Cut the line!"

The background hiss became a roar, accompanied by the sickly pungent smell of promethium. A snap, a flash, and an explosion erupted up from the pipeline, launching a curtain of fire behind the trucks as they sped away from the battlefield. Wracked with pain, curled up in the back like a shameful child, Lamech stared at the ghostly images of the Eldar on the other side of the flame. For the first time in a life of violence, death, and anger, he understood what true hatred felt like.

Spoiler:
Victory against Eldar, which in this case just means minimal casualties. And Lamech could really use a hand.



Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/04/26 05:36:06


Post by: Bobthehero


----- New Pavus, slums -----

'' That's the slaughterhouse the major's living in '' said Garvel

'' He lives in a slaughterhouse? Kinda messed up don't you think '' said someone else

'' Mhmm, big building, can fit many defenders, lots of room, lots of accesses, that'll be a bitch to take with only five of us ''

'' What! You mean the team hidden in the woods ain't gonna help us, that's ridiculous! ''

'' Higher ups want to give one last change to stealth, I guess, we're still under the radar as far as the Tillers know ''

'' Mhmm, how are we going to to do that, then? ''

It was at that time that Mallear came from his initial recon.

'' Bad news, there's three access, means we'll be only two in there, that'll be trouble ''

'' And with pistols only? ''

'' We'll '' acquire '' their rifles if need be, but the point is to get in and out with the prize, not wipe out the Tillers where they stand ''

'' Who's going in then? ''

'' I will! '' two voice spoke almost as one, Garvel was one of them.

The team had agreed to wait till the night before hitting the rebels. Garvel and his comrades decided to hit the western door, it was less exposed on the main street and the dumpster nearby would be ideal to hide the dead guard.

'' Wait till they switch guard, then we'll take him out, you kill him, I'll hide the corpse '' the other Scion nodded and the pair proceeded to wait until the guard was relieved by his comrade. That took about an hour and Garvel's comrade walked up to the man, pretending to be a beggar, the guard had allowed the stormtrooper to get within melee range and he never saw the knife that went through his throat, he died quick, and died silently. Garvel raced out of the shadows and lifted the guard while his buddy made sure no other Tillers would sneak up on them.

'' Any weapons? ''

'' Just a baton to beat up wanderers, don't think the Tillers are quite to the point where they can wave rifles around in the streets ''

The duo entered the building. They could hear the conversation of a few Tillers nearby and took out their pistols.

'' Keep one alive, we can't walk waste time walking all around the place, and we don't have the ammo to kill everyone, speaking of, you got flashbangs? ''

Garvel nodded and prepared his grenade.

'' How many? ''

The other Scion took a quick look in the room.

'' Three, that's awfully convenient for us, one has a flamer, I'll kill that one, kill the one further away from the door, we'll interrogate the other one really quickly ''

Garvel thew his grenade in the room.

'' MacAnnan, is tha- '' the Tiller would never finish his sentence, as a bright flash overtook his sense, followed by bullet smashing his brain. The other man died in a similar way, the last one was tackled down and had a pistol silencer shoved in his mouth to prevent him from making too much sound.

'' You so much as speak one letter too loud, our Inquisitor's gonna keep you alive for weeks, understood ''

The mention of an Inquisitor removed all colors from the face of the Tillers and he slowly nodded.

'' I am taking out my pistol, you will tell us where major O'Connell is sleeping now ''

'' Th-, I mean second floor, room in the ba-ba-back ''

Garvel brought his pistol and shot the Tiller in thead. The stormtroopers proceed to the second floor unchallenged. The room mentionned by the traitor seemed pretty obvious, with two guards at the end of the corridor. The Scions made quick work of the suprised men and entered the large room.

'' You watch the door, I'll look for the bastard '' said Garvel. The Scion looked around the room, seems it was split in smaller rooms, with no bed obvious in the one he was in. Garvel went to the next door and found a bed, Garvel took out the injector and readided himself, uncovering the form on the bed. It a pig carcass, someone had a very sick sense of humour, or... he heard the click of a snub revolver being cocked. Feth.

'' Hands behind your head, now ''

The major, ah, so he was pretty good. Garvel complied, hitting his vox-link while moving up his hands, atl east his comrades out would know he's in trouble.

'' Arcadis Bay my ass, couldn't fake the accent to save your life, get up ''

Without lots of options, the stormtrooper stood up and exited the room, passing by the corpse of the other Scion, his throat having been slit open.


----- Two hours later, 85th Command post -----

Gallus slammed his fist on the table, Castella had brought the news just now. Two men missing, possibly dead, no prisoner, no progress. Both his seconds were there.

'' To hell with stealth, Riley, take your best twenty and three Valkyries, you're going hunting, when can you be in that building? ''

'' Five hours, add fifteen minutes to that and I can have the building empty of life, with that guy in a Valkyrie ''

'' Get to it then, bring a vox clarion, you'll get specifics regarding your target while you're in the air ''

Riley nodded, saluted and ran to his men quarters. One Scion on watch saw him approach.

'' Uh... sir? ''

'' I want 1st platoon 5th and 6th sections, fully geared for a raid, with flamers, we're clearing a building and we're already late ''

'' Yes sir! ''






Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/04/27 20:42:56


Post by: jhe90


A Ferrasian feast part two


It took over a day for the storm to weaken and for the bases aircraft to fly again safely for the small raid on the ork coastal camp. Too small to be a huge threat but a single ork could cause problems yet alone a small organized camp.

The mission was a combined assault with elements of Yarl Agmars auxiliary forces, Space wolves marines and Amanda Valorns armsman backed by airborne gunships for fire support during the rapid raid.

“Your flying in the chomand hawk knight Scion Valorn, pad 10, the armsmen are already gathering near the hangers ready to leave soon as go ahead is given” the female serf excused her self politely and took to her other duties about the base. On the hour mark she borrowed one of the old Jeeps to drive to the pads. “Amanda, you join us on this one, now we are comple, let us go” boomed Yarl Agmar over the engines idiling whines, hugging him and ignoring a few jokes from the Ferrasian officers, “orks, aircraft and danger, never miss a solid second date” “ja, but it's not going to be boring” laughed the Yarl as they boarded.

The Flight to the camp was not a long one but the officers soon had got the plans, tactics and final details worked out quickly and making best use of the mixed forces capabilities and unique skills of the supporting humans, the marines where taking the first blood. “Agreed, we go with it, any objections” none where raised and it was decided, the wolves where to target boats and docks, Auxiliary was to cut off retreat once the docks burned and take the camp from behind, lastly the volkite equipped armsman job was to take the jungle gate and cut off the escape route there. With a final nod and a round of amsac the first aircraft screamed in low and fast over the water to the target.

A sudden wall of bolter and rocket fire lit up the sky as dawn broke over the docks scattering orks and meks working on constructing the crude boats from large tree trunks and heavy scavenged armour. Even before the smoke had begun the clear the sky claws where soon amongst the orks and fighting a fierce battle jumping from boat to dock and roof to roof each engaging multiple orks in rapid duels. On the jungle gate near a large sea cave the Armsmen of house valorn pressed forward and several where felled by crude traps of wood and stone yet where effective and soon found the route was emptey but the small mob whose resistance lasted very little when the volkite fire ofn the highly drilled force took them by surprise.

Taking the fight forward the armsmen pressed forward and hit the boat yards flank hard firing volleys of relentless flaying energy, yet even there armour was not impenetrable and several fell to crude boom spears or richer orks with crude but powerful blunderbuss firearms the size of small cannons. Despite its gains Amanda valorn and her guard where fighting a dangerous closed qauters fight.

Waiting for his turn Yarl Agmar had placed his forces well and watched as melta bombs set large fires by then docks and drove some of the orks heading for the rear gates of the crude but we'll fortified camp. They line held but soon a large nob gutted several troops on its way and then faced the Yarl. “Oi humie, ya ruin our fun, our boats, now ya die” despite his increased strength and stature the ork was stronger and this find would be won by brains not brawn. Ducking low he saw his chance to strike and swung the massive bladed axe into a defensive block, and pulled the fuse on its crude grenade harness before ducking as the green skin exploded in a pile of green and burned chunks.

Turning round he saw a sudden ork about to charge impaled on a sword before he could raise his weapon. “Ja, thanks, still say it was a good date” laughing as she quickly beheaded the ork, “aye. But next time maybe somewhere less … orky, the locals are a tad less welcoming “

As they colated the reports and bodies stacked and set aflmae in a great pyre to prevent some of the spores forming new orks and future warghs. Boats destroyed, the base was a burning ruin I'm the distance with great black plumes towering overhead the warboss escaped the docks and had managed to sneak out to live another day, despite many woumnds it took far more than that to slay a mighty boss. “Il get ya gitz, I'm not dead yet” The loss of all the gunz had hurt, metal, all scavenged hard, it would take to rebuild his clan.

In the ruins they found somthing a ainciant sheild with a boss in the form of a dragons maw and long defiled aqulla hanging off the bosses throne, an artifact of the lost chapter perhaps?


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/04/29 00:52:26


Post by: War Kitten



As Amanda Valorn charged towards the Ork Camp, surrounded on all sides by her loyal armsmen, she realized that she was not afraid. There was a little bit of apprehension there yes, as thus far she had only experienced the thunder of war from the relative safety of her Knight suit, and now here she was leading a charge against some Orks. The fear should have been overwhelming, she had heard many stories of others freezing up under pressure, leading to them or others being hurt and killed, but that wasn’t the case for Amanda. She had never felt so alive in her life. It was intoxicating, she realized, the thunder of war. One could easily get lost in it, and lose sight of their objective. She had been given an objective, she and her Armsmen were to take the Jungle Gate and hold it, ensuring that the Orks had no way to escape the furious Space Wolf assault. They were to be the anvil that the Orks broke against versus the Hammer of the Wolves, and Amanda gave the Armsman next to her a fierce grin, excited by the prospect, and the armsmen returned the grin. House Valorn would prove themselves in the fires of war, and they would show the galaxy that they were not defeated by the losses they had experienced. They would come out of this even stronger than ever before. Let the enemies of the Imperium tremble, she thought as she caught sight of the first Orks up ahead, for the Wolves of Valorn were on the hunt.


Before any of the armsmen could open up on the Orks, there was a flash of movement and the armsmen to her left slumped to the ground dead, caught through the chest by a fiendish Ork trap, and several more spears were hurled by the Greenskins before the Armsmen could respond to the ambush, and two more armsmen fell, impaled through the chest and neck by the crude, but lethal weapons, and Amanda burned their faces into her memory. She would not forget their sacrifice, and she would burn a hundred Orks for each Armsmen who fell in her defense, and she would begin to even out the tally with these Orks near the gate. All around her Armsmen fell into formation around her, and as one they raised their Volkite rifles and opened up, and the Orks who were foolish enough to have thrown the spears were the first to die, incinerated by the vengeful Armsmen in flashes of burning green energy. The Ork mob ahead had noticed the ruckus and they began sprinting towards the advancing force, excited by the prospect of a good fight, and as they drew closer Amanda could make out every detail of their disgusting faces. The Orks had green, sallow skin, crude stone and wood choppas, and each one was clad in scraps of what appeared to be great beasts, along with crudely woven cloth. The mere sight of them filled her with a fiery hatred, and the deaths of her Armsmen only added fuel to the fire, and she raised her sabre and pointed it at the onrushing Orks and spoke one word. “Fire.” In another hail of light the onrushing Orks were incinerated, and the wavered for a second as the sheer weight of fire, and the burning corpses of their comrades tripped them up and forced them to slow as to avoid a potentially lethal fall. This pause was to be their undoing, and the Volkite rifles of Valorn spat death again and again, until the Orks charge went from wavering, to breaking as the few remaining Boyz attempted to flee back towards the main camp. They didn’t make it, as the vengeful Armsmen scythed the last one down just a few short yards away from the Jungle Gate, which was slowly opening to reveal another Ork horde bearing down upon them. Realizing that this horde would not be as simple to break, the Armsmen raced for cover. The Orks, perhaps sensing that they had the advantage, opened fire on the Armsmen. Most of them had crude BoomSpears, but a few of them had different weapons that resembled the Blunderbusses of old Terra. Despite how crude the weapons seemed, they were still lethal, and a few more Armsmen were shredded by the ferocious strength of the Blunderbusses, or torn apart explosively by the BoomSpears, despite their advanced armor. As they fell Amanda let loose a shout of furious denial. No more of her men would fall her, and she rose from behind the stump she had ducked behind and leveled her volkite pistol at the Orks. She would show them how a daughter of Valorn fought!


Her Armsmen rose along with her, and their Volkite rifles once again sang a song of death, and Orks began to fall by the dozens, their crude armor no match for the flaying energies of the Volkite rifles. Similar to the previous mob of Orks, the sheer firepower their small group unleashed sent the Orks back in disarray, and Amanda was quick to seize the moment to order the advance, and her forces pushed forward. The next few minutes were a blur as the Armsmen slowly pushed the Orks back into their camp, towards where Amanda could hear howls of the Space Wolves as they unleashed their fury upon the Orks. The sound brought another fierce grin to her face, something that was echoed by the men around her. Over the last few weeks the Armsmen of Valorn had become close to the Space Wolves that they now fought alongside, and the two groups were ferociously proud of the achievements of the other. And then of course there was Agmar…. She and him had become extremely close to each other over the last few weeks, and he had asked her to accompany his brothers in their assault on the Ork Camp. A good first date indeed! Then Amanda saw something that made her blood run cold. Ahead she could see Agmar in a furious duel with a massive Greenskin. What he couldn’t see was the smaller Ork that was creeping up behind him raising a weapon, obviously intending to stab him. She raced forward towards them and lunged with her sword, praying that she wouldn’t be too late to save him….

Amanda removed her helmet and wiped the sweat off her brow. It had been a long, hard fight. But they had won, and all around her the Orks burned, along with the remnants of their camp. The Warboss and a few other Orks had managed to effect an escape, but Amanda knew that they would be hunted down and killed in the next few weeks. No one escaped the wrath of Fenris, and this Ork would be no exception. Then her thoughts turned to the fallen. Too many of her Armsmen had fallen today, and she knew that their faces would probably haunt her for the rest of her life. She accepted this simple fact with all the grace of her lineage. They had died in her service, and in her defense. The least she could do was remember their sacrifice, to ensure that they hadn’t died in vain. Their bodies were laid out back on the drop ship, and they would be prepared for shipping back to their loved ones, wherever they might be. House Valorn would ensure that they were given every possible dignity, after all, they had earned it. Satisfied, Amanda put her helmet back on and sealed it, and then she turned and began walking towards the drop ship to join her men. The day was not yet over.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/04/29 02:31:52


Post by: Tactical_Spam


Six human psykers were dragged into a ritual circle that had been scorched into the earth just moments earlier. Each human was a virgin, just as the ritual demanded. Each human was bound and gagged with the vines of the Rose of the Heshlik Gardens. The thorns of the vines bit deeply into their skin and they made their agony known. Five of the six humans were arranged into a five pointed star while the sixth was placed in the center of the star. Each human was held in place by an Absent of Ewryht'eikl, whom wielded a shard of the Razor of Esekuur.

The ritual took place on Crion, though the reason behind this was hidden like an Absent in the shadows. Ewryht'eikl only alluded to the fact that it aligned with his master plan. The ritual circle was drawn far from any civilization besides a scarce amount of native tribes, which had already been killed, sacrificed or enslaved by the Servants of Ewryht'eikl. Deep in the forest they burned the circle into the ground. A large mass of mortal followers of Ewryht'eikl surrounded the circle along with Absents, who patrolled the area like rabid dogs in search of scraps. Not one soul would disturb the ritual.

"Why must we wait so long, Pneuma?" Raak'tiil groaned. She despised the way the material universe looked in comparison with the Warp. It was dull and stale unlike the ever changing see of the Warp. How she hated that.

"We wait for night fall. That is when the ritual must be completed," Peuma Plagueborn gurgled, the nearest cultists passing out from the foul stench that left his gaping maw. He reached a disease festered arm out to the sky, "It draws close... We are on the eve of something monumental."

"I have an eternity. This is hardly monumental in the scheme of that time."

"Yes, but our lord, Ewryht-"

The ground shook like an earthquake. Something very large had entered the forest.

"It is time..." Pneuma uttered. Another small quake rattled the earth and knocked a few cultists down. The shaking drew closer. Each quake was bigger and more pronounced as if a giant was heading towards the ritual circle.

"I AM RETURNED!" a voice thundered and shook everything nearby to the bone. If any cultist had been left standing, they were now prostrating themselves towards the direction of the voice. The giant kneeled so its upper body was below the tree height and it gazed at the Raak'tiil and Pneuma. Its voice was hushed and emanated from the grotesque mouth in the giant's chest, "Start the ritual."

Raak'tiil nodded to the Absents holding the five outermost humans in the circle. Each human had its throat slit in unison and a cry of sorrow and mental anguish came from the human in the center of the circle, who was to witness the atrocities of the ritual first hand. The giant withdrew a large book from it's side and began reading an incantation. Energies from his words whipped around the circle and flew into the bodies of the dead human sacrifices. Each body was raised up and its arms were outstretched. The incantation lasted for what seemed like hours until a single phrase was spoken.

"Suolyn'ne..."

Each of the bodies, including the living sacrifice in the center of the circle, exploded into pure, unyielding darkness. It engulfed the vicinity of the circle and devoured all noise, light and blocked every sense. All the humans nearby experienced acute agony in their heads while the darkness lasted, the giant however, felt something different. He heard a voice and saw a figure. A tanned human with a long, dark brown and black tail ending in a rattle that shook when the creature spoke.

"It has been so long since I have been in the presence of another being... Who is it that has managed to summon me?"

"I am Ewryht'eikl, lord of Darness and the Undeath," the giant spoke confidently, a wide grin splitting each of its three faces. It lowered its massive heads so it could address the she-snake face to face.

"In another life, I would call you by another name... Your faces remind me of a young, hot-headed psyker from a desert planet far from here..." the half-snake said drawing her hand up to touch one of the giant's faces.

"I do not go by that name any longer. I am Ewryht'eikl. I am your patron," the giant reassured.

"I understand, Ewryht'eikl."

Spoiler:
Ewryht'eikl is finally in the crusade. He is on Luna Epsilon, in Zike.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/04/29 14:45:39


Post by: Irishpeacockz


Rhodri comforted the young pup in his arms for the hundredth time, in an attempt to make it hang on just a little bit longer,but unless they move out soon the pup will die. There was no food or water in this dusty tomb of Marine and Hound as far as Rhodri could see and the pup was starving for he was nought but skin and bone. As a Hound Master Rhodri had grown attached to the hounds in the kennels, perhaps more so than the ones in the barracks. They were as loyal as any marine and followed orders without question. They only sought Rhodri’s attention and affection and perhaps the odd meal and hunt, in Rhodri’s mind they were the perfect companions and just as a techmarine would risk his life for some technological marvel, Rhodri would do the same for everyone of his hounds. As such Rhodri would do everything in his power to keep this pup alive, not only because it would help in his mission given to him by Baltair Seoc himself but because it broke his heart to see such a magnificent creature in pain.

Cadfael cursed under his breath as his latest ritual had yet again failed to get the power restored to the old fortress. He was about to perform the proper rites again when Rhodri barged in with Tactical squads Mara and in tow “Rhodri, I told you I need my privacy if I am to re-” “Forget about that door,forget about this place, you have been trying all night to restore power and we have not seen so much as a spark.” Spat Rhodri annoyance clearly present in his tone. “What about the possible artefacts that could be behind this door ? Powerful weapons and armour could prove invaluable to the chapter” argued Cadfael, Rhodri stepped forward closer to his brother “Forget about your swords and armour” said Rhodri as he lifted up the pup in his arms “This is the weapon we need, this is the future of our chapter”.Cadfael tilted his head in confusion “ What do you mean” “If this pup is from the breed I think it is this could make our hounds on par with the Thunderwolves from Fenris, they could cut through not only light armoured infantry but more heavier armoured troops such as nobz and our traitorous brethren, perhaps even light armoured vehicles” grinned Rhodri, “So Cadfael we have found a weapon just not in the form you were expecting. Now let us move, the future of our chapter is dying.” Saying what he had to say Rhodri spun on his heels and began the trek back through the passage they had cut their way through to get to Site Henry. Brother Dai brought the Cuir Airde around to collect his brothers so they could report their “success” to Alpha Faolan Gall.

Cearul patted Brother Alwyn on the back, “Good Sparring session brother your defensive stance was good while your footing in your aggressive stance could use some work. How is your new leg ?” Alwyn shook his new bionic leg “It will serve Commander, but I must admit I am still adjusting to it, my balance is not quite right” Cearul smirked “I noticed, stop limping, put some weight on it and you will be back slaying xenos in no time”. A steel haired man approached the two robed giants, “Idris !” Bellowed Cearul “I was not aware you made it to the surface” Idris slammed his fist onto his breastplate “Only temporarily, I will be returning to Aspen’s Claw in a few hours but alas we must catch up another time, I come bearing summons from Faolan Gall for Cearul Adair, the old dog said it is urgent”. Putting his training blade back on the adjacent rack, “Very well, best not keep him waiting, Alwyn, Idris I will see you when I see you” with a slight nod Cearul left his friends in the training room and made his way over to Faolan’s office.

Cearul knocked on his Alpha’s door three times. Faolan’s familiar rough voice echoed from inside his office “Come in”. Faolan Gall was sat down behind his desk reading reports and studying maps, His once proud black mane now fostered many grey streaks in it, once Cearul entered he put down a dataslate he was studying and rose out of his chair. “Cearul, I appreciate you coming here with haste, i’ve been reading our allies reports and i'm happy to say they have made some progress which means we have to step up our game and put this Gorehound Da Cook down” Cearul could see the rage boil within his Alpha by the mere mention of the greenskin, “How do we approach him ?” Asked Cearul “The trees themselves protect the orks any approach into the forest would be suicide” Faolan walked into the adjacent room where a map of the nearby region which housed Gorehound, Cearul followed suit. “We will set up a killzone and lure the orks in, hopefully Gorehound himself will show and we can cut the head off the snake and shatter the orks in this region”. Faolan turned to Cearul and the atmosphere in the room changed completely “ I have failed this chapter and you particularly. You have always been in my shadow, by my side, I have never trusted you to take command independently, leaving such command to Ardan believing you were not yet ready. I have decided due to my recent disaster that you Cearul Adair shall have the command, prove to me that you are ready to command and bring me Gorehound Da Cook’s head”. Saluting his Alpha Cearul made way to ready his forces, it was finally time he got his own command, it was time to hunt some ork.
Spoiler:
Just a small piece setting up my next chunk, wrote from Cearul's perspective for a change. Occurs at Site Henry and Canis Caelum



Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/05/02 02:13:27


Post by: TheEyeOfNight



++HIVE COGGER//OUTER LEVELS++
Mordecai knew what chaos sounded like. He had been trapped in its embrace when the feral orks attacked the Maw, and had stood his ground as blood and madness stormed all around him. They had faced a tsunami of rage and lived, but this was different.

Now they faced a lightning strike of fury which they could not deflect.

A battle cannon's hideous echo thudded from behind him as he sprinted down the ruined street, the shot passing overhead and ripping the heart out of a nearby building. The roof blossomed upwards on a sudden flame, and cultists were thrown from within as the enormous shell detonated. Reflexively, he raised his shield, hearing the patter of shrapnel on its beaten surface. Ahead, a group of the enemy's prisoner-soldiers had broken through, streaming from a gutter below and catching the group of cultists from the flank.

“The lift!” Mordecai shouted, vaulting a tumbling piece of rubble. “Secure the lift!”

He slammed his shield hard into the first of the penal legionnaires, feeling something crunch beneath the impact as he sped onwards towards the central lift. The gargantuan elevator, once used to transport heavy construction equipment up and down the levels, was a surefire way to transport the heavy Malcador tanks up to the higher levels without opposition. Smoke streamed overhead as a handful of cultists fired home-made rockets from the rooftops, scattering broken stone shards and nails through the penal legion ranks. The accompanying screams were satisfying, but Mordecai knew those flimsy shots would have no effect on the silver-armored knights advancing down the alleyways.

“Brother Mordecai!” A masked cultist, bearing the weight of an older-model vox-caster on his back, limped his way forward. “Brother! We've re-armed the far defense gun! Where are the tanks?”

“Nurgle take the tanks!” Mordecai grabbed the man's arm, dragging him along towards the lift. “Tell him to swing the gun west! West!”

Ahead, the cultists had reached the lift, turning around to form a gunline at its edge. Mordecai leaped over the crate barricade and landed hard on the iron grate floor. He kicked the controls hard, and with a titanic groan of effort, the lift began to rise. Mordecai gasped for breath, but he knew his task was not yet done.

“Tell the gun to lock onto the lift.”

“Brother!?”

“Lock onto the lift! There will be more tanks, and more soldiers, but there will be no easy road for them.”

For three agonizing minutes, the lift rose, finally coming to rest at the next level up. The cultists poured out of it as if it was already aflame, and Mordecai pushed and shoved the last ones to hurry. “Move! Move!” The overhead light clicked green: someone had summoned the lift from below. His hustle broke into a full sprint. “And fire! For the Flayed Lord, fire!”

A series of thunderclaps rose from the east, and with a roar and flame that rivaled the dragon beyond, the lift shattered into debris and slag, collapsing down in a useless scrap heap. Mordecai mustered as much saliva as he could and spit it down the smoldering shaft.

* * * *
++HIVE COGGER//GOVERNORS SPIRE++
“Father!” Mordecai slammed into the door, throwing it open as he stumbled into the governor's library. “They are here! Silver knights in the outer sectors!”

Lazarus stood over a large desk, his one good eye staring listlessly down at the surface as his blue artificial eye gleamed and blinked with information. “I know. The day has come sooner that I thought it would.” Lazarus rested his hand on the desk, closing his eye and shaking his head. “I had hoped that we would have found it by now. But since we are short on days...” He motioned Mordecai towards the map, and the rebel approached, his panic replaced by a cold curiosity. On the desk was a sprawling paper, retrieved from the archives below them. And on that paper was the end of Hive Cogger.

The paper was a map of the lower levels of Hive Cogger, in all of its Imperial-sanctioned ramshackle organization. Dozens of servitors had diligently slaved over the map for decades, updating it as new sections were built and old ones collapsed. Cogger had lived like a parasite growing on its own corpse, like many hive cities, and the revision number printed in bold on the map gave testament to that.

But far more chilling was the elegant, twisting rune Lazarus had drawn on top of the map. Inked in deep red, it overlaid the streets of Cogger, connecting alleyways and industrial complexes into a profane sigil ripped from another realm. The symbol curved and snaked its way through the map, passing seven different points before terminating at the center: the Governor's Spire.

Even on such a mundane medium, the symbol shivered with untapped power, drawing energy from the Immaterium and emanating an unnatural hiss just beyond normal hearing. Mordecai turned in shock, but Lazarus was already on his feet and moving.

“It's time we reminded this world that we are the true children of Chaos.”



Spoiler:
Minor Victory against the Inquisition, and Lazarus begins to play his own hand


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/05/02 13:26:11


Post by: Palleus


Hannibal looked out from the walls of Iron Skull fortress. It had been some time since he had wrested it from Skull Eater’s grasp. Somewhere in the jungle, Skull Eater was gathering his forces, and Hannibal made sure that when the time to fight did come, that he would be ready. Guts had helped the iron horde place traps in the jungle, and they had paid off with the prize of one of Skull Eater’s trucks. While he placed more traps around his Fortress, Hannibal’s eyes turned to the south. Nogrod, the boss of the spider riders, had been a constant rival to Nerozz due to their neighboring territory. But since the Iron Horde rose, Nogrod’s tribe had been suspiciously silent. Hannibal was keen to know if another attack was coming soon, and had sent Guts to scout out their rivals. Now there was nothing left for Hannibal to do than build, and wait. Wait for Guts’ return, and wait for the coming storm of Skull Eater’s revenge.

Hannibal took a deep breath. He would wait. Impatience leads to disaster, and he would let Skull Eater make that mistake. The Iron Horde would be fully prepared when the time of Skull Eater’s revenge was at hand.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“Oi! How long to we’z gotta go ‘till we’z get ‘dere?” Norrik bellyached as he and his spider rider boys crawled at what felt to be a painfully slow pace as they followed behind Guts da Vagabond. None of the spiders were too keen on letting an unknown ork ride them, and Guts was not too keen on riding a mount that was known for devouring greenskins. As a result, the group passed through the jungle at what was, for the riders, a maddeningly slow pace.

“Don’ worry, Norrik. We’z almost ‘dere.” Came a tired reply. The same one he used the last four times he was asked. With a roll of his good eye, Guts hoped that Norrik’s skill in battle would make up for the miserable journey.

“Why we’z got’s ta’ go so slow anyways? Can’t we’z jus’ get to da fort ourselves?”

Guts chucked. “Yer’ askin’ me why havin’ tha’ wall guard see a bunch’a spida’ rida’s chargin’ at ‘em would be a bad fing? You wouldn’ make it halfway.”

“Yeah, well if you’z so smart, ‘den tell me why’z we gots’ ta’ all be in a line? We’d be a lot fasta’ if we din’ have ta’ single file.”

“Traps, ya git. I told ya. Traps.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Ya told me. ‘da traps’ll get ya. ‘Dere’s traps all ova. We don’ wan’ all yer’ boyz ta’ get caught up by all tha’ traps!’ Well we’z been crawlin’ like a snail in ‘dis jungle fer hours now, an’ I don’ see no zoggin traps! Not a single zoggin one!”

Guts sighed as he stopped in his tracks. Scooping up a sizable stick, he took a moment to find his target before giving it a good throw. The stick flew though the air, striking a few leaves as it soared towards its mark. With a small snapping sound, the stick struck a leafy patch in the ground before skidding to a halt.

And then, nothing happened.

“Well, ‘dat sure was some trap…” Norrik snorted though chuckles. But Guts stood still, looking at the leafy patch with expectation, and a worrying smile.

A soft hiss.

A canister sprung from the ground.

A quiet puff as the canister exploded, sending shards into surrounding foliage.

The trees awoke.

As the trees thrashed about, Norrik’s haughty grin faded, and Guts threw him a smug smile of satisfaction.

“Alright, alright. Guess you waz right about tha’ traps, ya zoggin tree whisperer.” Norrik admitted as he slouched down in his saddle, resigning himself to the slow march to the fortress.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Hannibal sat still, staring into the dust as his mind chipped away at the knowledge before him. Norrik had told him everything. The invasion of the blue-skins, the death of Nogrod, and the fall of the whole tribe. Where there was once a mighty ork presence, now there were only scattered bands of riders. This changed things for Hannibal, and he sat still, motionless, save for the rising and falling of his chest with steady breaths. He had already dismissed Norrik, welcoming him and his riders into the horde, now he was only accompanied by Guts in his silence.

Hannibal sat this way for a long time, the question of what to do with these blue-skins and their technology turned in his mind as he examined it from all angles, weighing risk with reward.

His eyes focused again. He had his plan. “Guts, I need one of your Javelins.”

Guts responded without hesitation, taking a javelin from his quiver and presenting it to Hannibal. “What’s ‘da plan, boss?”

“We’z gunna send a message.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The tau convoy readied for their trip though the jungle, their maintenance of the drone network complete. The maintenance crew gave a final nod to their retinue of warriors, and loaded up in their orcas. The warriors were quick to follow, keeping a wary eye on the jungle as they came aboard.

The door hissed closed, the engines hummed to life, and the orca began its ascent.

The passengers braced themselves for the orca to pick up speed, but instead, a crackle came over their comms as the pilot addressed the rest.

“There seems to be something wrong with the starboard-aft thruster. I need to put her down again.”

The fire warriors exchanged worried glances at the thought of landing again, instructed the pilot to keep the engines running, and rechecked their pulse rifles. As the door opened, they re-secured the surroundings as the others rushed to check the thruster.

“Shas-ui, I think I have found the problem. There is a Javelin stuck in the gyro-stabilizer.”

At those words, the fire warriors tensed, checking and rechecking the jungle for any sign of an enemy. But not a single greenskin could be found.

“Make the repairs quickly…”

“It is done. But you need to hear this.”

“I will hear it once we are in the skies. Everyone, in quickly.”

The team made their way into the orca. And an audible sigh of relief sounded over the hum of the engines powering to full speed.

“Now what was it that I needed to hear?” The shas-ui asked, taking off his helmet and wiping the sweat from his brow. He was presented with the javelin. Its blade was made of iron, and at the base of the blade was a small speaker with a few buttons. Over the engines, an ork voice could be heard from the speaker.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/05/03 06:53:51


Post by: chazz huggins


Innocence Proves Nothing

Justicar Freeman had healed from his wounds that he sustained at the Governor’s banquet. He had a gruesome scar on his torso where the rocket stick had struck him but was otherwise no worse for wear. The Grey knight was given command of a hundred of Inquisitor Randall’s storm troopers and given a task. Ensure that the refugee camps that surrounded Drake’s Point were free of heresy.

Lieutenant Jackson strolled along the fairway of refugees. They were a miserable lot, motely, weary, and starving. They huddled in masses around humble campfires under canopies to keep the cold off that came with the night’s rain. Jackson did not dawn his inquisitorial armor rather a long black trench coat to remain inconspicuous. Jackson eyed a beggar with a bowl, the man moaned “Please my good sir, spare a throne.” Jackson reached into his pocket and pulled a odd silver coin, marked with the all seeing eye of the inquisition. The beggar bowed humbly hearing the coin enter his metal dish “Thank you kind sir.” Jackson bowed slightly and continued on his path. Lieutenant Jackson raised his wrist mounted com bead and spoke “All Tracers set, begin specimen extraction.”

Men and women went missing that night carried away by shadows and specters. Each that went missing awoke in a similar place an empty white room bound to a chair.

Lieutenant Jackson entered the interrogation room with a clip board in his hands. The inquisitorial henchmen spoke “Tell me your name.” The man tied to the chair groaned “Where am I?” “That is Irrelevant, your name please.” The man recognized Jackson as the man who put a throne in his cup, the man snarled “Let me go this instance, you have no right to…” It was at this moment Justicar Freeman entered the cell, “The inquisition would appreciate your compliance.” The restrained refugee froze for a moment before speaking “My name is Jon Took.” Lieutenant Jackson continued “Can you name the Emperor’s nine loyal children Mr. Took.” Took easily replied “Leman Russ, Roboute Guilliman, Sanguinius, Rogal Dorn, Ferrus Manus, Lion El'johnson, Corvus Corax, and Vulkan.” Jackson continued “Can you recite for me the Litany of the Emperor’s Fire.” Took bowed his heads and spoke “For those who walk in the light of the Emperor; fire is their water, fire is their blood, and fire is their spirit. Embow me Emperor with your righteous flame so that I may do you will now and forever.” Jackson nodded over to Freeman and began to head for the door “Thank you mister Took, we will be back shortly.”

Freeman and Jackson walked side by side to the next cell, through the one way mirror they spotted a man restrained to the chair. Jackson raised an eyebrow “I never gave this man a token.” Freeman folded his arms as he replied “He had one none the less.” Jackson interest was piqued and he entered the interrogation room.

The man growled as Jackson approached “Let me go I didn’t do nothing wrong.” Jackson removed the silver coin from his pocket “How did you come by this coin.” The man spat “Old lady gave it to me traded it for a scrap of bread.” Jackson paced around the room “I do not appreciate lies mister…” The man replied “Mister none of your damn business. And that’s the truth old lady gave it to me.” Justicar Freeman entered the room speaking “Yes she did but not willingly I imagine.” The man gulped as the grey knight entered “Space Marine, who the feth are you people?” Jackson continued “Are you familiar with the Inquisition?” The man’s face grew pale as he replied in a near whisper “Only rumors.” Freeman spoke “Than tell us how you came by the coin I will know if you lie.” The man hung his head “I killed the old lady, slit her throat and took the coin, it was shiny and I wanted it.” Jackson was still unmoved the man was clearly evil, but not necessarily an agent of chaos. Justicar Freeman spoke on “Can you name the Emperor’s loyal sons.” The man replied slowly needing to think about his answer “Guilliman, Russ, Ferrus, Rogal Dorn, Sanguinius, Lion El'johnson, Vulkan, and Corax.” Jackson ordered “Recite the Litany of the Emperor’s Fire.” The murderer began “For those who walk in the light of the Emperor; fire is their water, fire is their bloo-….” The man attempted to finish the word but couldn’t. He soon began screaming as he felt his own blood burn as it coursed through his veins. His volume increased and then his voice turned to gurgling as blood began to pour from his mouth. After about three minutes the man’s eyes rolled back into his head and his corpse went limp in the chair. Justicar Freeman regretted the discovery but his duty was clear “There is no doubt, heresy has been detected Lieutenant Jackson inform the men.” The storm trooper knew what this meant.

2:48 AM Refugee Camp Outskirts of Drake’s Point

The Inquisitorial storm troopers broke into five-man kill teams each squad armed with flamer. They silently descended to the camps everyone was asleep, the occasional roaming insomniac and late night latrine goers were dispatched with knives. Every exit from the camp was sealed off and at at 3:07 AM the tents that held the refugees were set ablaze by geysers of flame. There was panic men women and children rushing from burning tents some of whom had caught fire, heretic and refugee alike were indiscriminately gun down by cracks of las fire. None were spared they could not risk a single heretic escaping their wrath so all were judged guilty. After twenty minutes of screams and cries all went silent under the crackle of the purging flame.

Justicar Freeman looked at the charred corpses of those around him, children. He knew that they had done the right thing they were to purge the heretics at any cost. Still he knew he would never grow numb to the horror of their deeds. Lieutenant Jackson came rushing toward Freeman “My Lord, we have reports of a possible group of heretics fleeing to the south in a vehicle.” Freeman hoisted his halberd “Gather the Valkyries.”


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/05/03 22:09:30


Post by: 2BlackJack1


Ta'lok sat cross legged, quietly humming to himself, watching the sunrise. "Few things in life are so beautiful, wouldn't you agree, Meenos?" He asked, sensing Meenos' presence behind him. The Master Shaper smiled at Meenos' surprise, and was glad to see it quickly suppressed.

"Ta'lok, Godwill is dead. His body has been made into a message, and even now Edgar fears for when we come for him." Meenos replied.

"While I am glad to hear of this, I asked you a question." Ta'lok said sagely, still admiring the view.

Meenos sighed, "Yes, Shaper. It is an enjoyable view, but surely there are more important things than Crion's sun rising?"

Ta'lok slowly shook his head, and stood up, facing Meenos. "Meenos, how I wish you saw the bigger picture. Unfortunately, we do not have the free time to continue a lecture. More specifically, I do not. Either through anger, grief, or hysteria, your message has made Edgar poke his head out of its hole. He plans his speech, but no words shall come. I will make sure of that."

Meenos was silent for a moment, "You will join the hunt, Shaper?"

Ta'lok nodded, a glint of humor in his eyes, "I can hardly let the krootlings be the only ones to hunt, and I will not find myself babysitting the governor throughout this entire campaign. I expect to be gone for a few days, but no more than a week." Meenos nodded, and realized that this meant that he would not be coming. The pair clasped arms before Ta'lok turned towards their encampment to gather his gear.

Edgar grinned and waved at the assembled crowd in front of him, expertly hiding the growing sense of paranoia that was on the verge of consuming him. His past speech had nearly cost him his life, and now his associate, his own friend, had been found hanging from a streetlight, torn apart and left to rot. Edgar forced the thoughts out of his mind, he couldn't let any idle fear get in his way. The Tillers needed him, and worrying about some boogeyman wouldn't do. Edgar reached for a cup of water, and quickly drained it's contents. The rebel set the empty cup next to several others.

From a window, several robed figures watched the proceedings. "He's worried, he knows we come for him." Ta'lok whispered, slightly moving his head to look at Grulkin from the corners of his eyes. Grulkin cocked his head, expecting Ta'lok to continue. "He keeps drinking those cups of water, and he hasn't even said a word yet. And his hands, they're clenched whenever he isn't using them. He grins, but it's all a ruse. There is an entire art of reading people, Grulkin. I've learned quite a lot in my time."

Grulkin shrugged, and looked back towards Edgar, who had finally started his speech. "Brothers. Sisters. Visionaries and revolutionaries all of you. I greet you all with a warm smile and an open heart." Edgar began, and Seri scoffed from Ta'lok's left. "To this day, the Tillers, Horatio, and all of us have proven our justness, and our righteousness. We have shown to the world that the governor is nothing but all tyrant, a thief, and a traitor to the common man! This coward has done everything in his power to throw us down, and to spite us for seeking equality, liberty, and a life worth living! But we will not be dissuaded, we cannot be stopped!" Edgar's voice rose higher in volume, and became a rumble that caused the crowd to cheer and applaud his words.

Ta'lok saw a malicious smile creep over Edgar. "The governor fears us, brothers and sisters! He has sent the alien filth to do his own dirty work!" The man gestured behind him, and a humanoid body was raised by a rope around its neck for the crowd to see.

Ta'lok felt his stomach tighten as he recognized the body. "Torken!" One voice shrieked, and was followed shortly after by an inhuman figure sprinting across the fields, directly towards Edgar, already throwing down its hood to reveal the Kroot beneath it. Several other figures took up her cry, and bounded after her, drawing their own weapons and casting down their hoods.

Ta'lok sighed in disappointment, and signalled for the rest of his kin to follow. As one, a dozen more of the avian mercenaries bursted from their hiding spots, some rushing for Edgar, and others to the guards, and engaging in a merciless melee as they cut down any human that stood against them. Ta'lok lead the charge and passed Voshia, who had caused the assault to start early.

Voshia was viciously engaged with three arbites, narrowly dodging their mauls and sending knives in return. Ta'lok returned his focus to Edgar, who was arguing with one arbites member, one with the markings of a captain, and quickly turned to flee as he saw that Ta'lok was getting closer. The Shaper fired a single round into the captain's unarmored head, all the while still loping forwards, determined to catch Edgar once and for all.

By now the entire rally had fallen to chaos. Citizens fled in every direction like rats, clogging roads and trampling one another in their flight, and those that stayed hurtled items end over end at the aliens, screaming incoherently at their appearance. The guards stood against the Kroot, but none were used to seeing such creatures, let alone fighting them. The fury of seeing their fallen kin only furthered the Kroot's battle prowess, and bodies were steadily falling to their guns and blades. Yet, Ta'lok's mind remained sharp despite the anarchy surrounding him. He was slowly gaining on Edgar, only momentarily pausing to shoot at a guard that got too close, or to dodge away from the remaining mob and their constant volleys of rocks, bottles, and whatever else they could scrounge.

The Shaper heard the heavy footsteps of Grulkin behind him, followed by the snap of a man's throat as the mercenary crushed his windpipe. "I'm with you, Shaper!" Grulkin bellowed, and threw an axe into another guard's skull.

Edgar ran faster than he thought was imaginable, pushing passed anyone he came across, sometimes deliberately shoving them into his assassin's way. He never looked back as he fled, but was unable to get rid of the image of a knife in his back from his mind. The rebel doubled his pace when he reached the pavement of the road, and his shoes pounded against it as he ran. Soon all he saw before him was towering buildings, and he lost himself in their maze.

Ta'lok slowed as he saw Edgar's path, and knew he would corner himself eventually. The Shaper gave a gesture to Grulkin, who grinned ferociously before splitting off on his own path. Behind them, the ringing of blades meeting and the crack of gunfire was waning, and eventually turned into a pressing silence. Ta'lok knew that his kindred were already rendezvousing, knowing that the petty guards would not be able to kill off all of his kindred, and trusted his kin to not get forced into a battle of attrition. Their job was to distract the guards like fire to the bush a hog dens in, and force Edgar to flee. "The pig will only fight while cornered, and then it is brought low," Ta'lok growled as he ran.

Edgar kept running, painfully aware of how much noise he made, but not daring to slow himself to make less of it. Occasionally, he could hear the cawing of some creature, and saw a silhouette of a beast on the rooftops. Distracted and utterly terrified by this shadow beast, he never realized it was slowly forcing him into a dead end. Once the rebel found that he had been trapped it was far too late. "No," he whimpered, "Damn the alien who did this." Edgar heard footsteps behind him, and his head whipped backwards. What he saw made him stumble back.

Ta'lok slowly approached Edgar, who just glared at him in return. Behind him stood Seri and Meenos, who were among the first to find Ta'lok's whereabouts. Edgar spat at Ta'lok, but the Shaper kept to his slow advance. "Edgar-" Ta'lok began.

"No! Shut the feth up, alien! I will not listen to your lies. Not only do you belittle our galaxy with your existence, you make allies with our tyrant governor. The Tiller Rebellion may not have me after tonight, but after this, after what you plan on doing, they will hunt you. Your nest will be burned, you and all of your kind will not stand before Horatio." Edgar roared, and in his anger he took a step towards Ta'lok. "So take me, alien! Take my life, and become prey, you savage beast!"

Ta'lok stood still and silent, looking down into Edgar's eyes. "Say something! Taint the Gothic language and speak your mind, if you have one!"

"I thought you wanted for me to be silent." To Edgar's surprise, the avian creature gave a guttural noise, and it's shoulders shook. It was laughing. This only enraged Edgar even more, and he shouted, "Do not mock me!" He raised a fist, but before he could deliver it he heard a heavy thump of something hitting the pavement behind him. Slowly, he lowered the fist, and looked backwards. He nearly collided with a towering brutish creature, and only saw blackness and stars accompanied by a blinding pain as he collapsed onto his side.

Grulkin looked down at the coughing form below him, and lowered his own fist. "The Shaper does not like threats, human." He rumbled, and grabbed the collar of Edgar's shirt, lifting him back onto his feet. Grulkin let go of Edgar, and the rebel swayed slightly, but remained in his place. Grulkin hit Edgar between his shoulder blades, dropping him to his knees.

"Grulkin. Enough." Ta'lok said, showing no traces of emotion in his words. Grulkin took several steps backwards, and shrugged unapologetically. The Shaper turned his attention to Edgar, who had lost all the color in his face, and stared at the ground in front of him, refusing to look at his tormentors. The speech maker flinched as he heard the scrape of a knife leaving its scabbard, and expected his life to end at any moment. Instead, he saw a blade skitter into his view, and its hilt bumped against his knee.

"You will not be murdered, Edgar. I will not kill you in cold blood. No. Face me in a challenge of blades." Ta'lok said, his voice brooking no argument.

Edgar wrapped one hand around the blade's hilt, and looked up at Ta'lok. "And if I refuse?"

Ta'lok sighed, "How about we make a deal. If you can defeat me, you can walk free. We will give you twenty four hours, and then the hunt will start anew. Or, I can slit your throat now, and you can die a coward." The alien's words filled Edgar with a new burst of energy, and he ignored the dull throb in his head and back as he gave a shout and lunged forwards at Ta'lok, furious that something so foul would insult him. Instead of meeting Ta'lok's chest, Edgar's blade cut harmlessly through thin air. Before he could recover, he was sent stumbling forwards, and he covered his head to avoid it from colliding with the pavement.

Except that Edgar never reached the ground. In a single blur of movement, Ta'lok had dragged him backwards with one hand on Edgar's shoulder, and used his other hand to cut open Edgar's throat. "The hunt is over, my prey." Ta'lok whispered, and let the man fall backwards. As he hit the ground, the knife fell from his fingertips, and both of his hands flew to his throat, vainly trying to stop the waves of blood from spurting out of his jugular. Without hesitation, Ta'lok was upon him, cutting out Edgar's heart before the man realized what was happening. The Shaper lifted the bloody organ into the air, ignoring the thick red liquid that slithered down his arm.

"Kindred. This hunt has finished." He proclaimed, and lifted his head into the air before dropping the heart into his awaiting beak.

Spoiler:
Finally, Edgar has fallen. Horatio, we come for you next.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/05/04 04:38:09


Post by: chazz huggins


Garvel awoke his vision blurry. He didn’t remember being knocked out, but he must have been. He felt his arms and legs restrained to the chair with thick heavy ropes. From the darkness came a spot light blinding. The Scion’s vision began to refocus and he could see a group of individuals standing before him. It was at this same time it became clear he was no longer in the slaughter house but in what appeared to be a warehouse. A familiar voice spoke to him as he approached from behind the light “It would seem your luck has come to an end boy.”

O'Connell’s voice had no cruelty which struck Garvel as odd. Garvel remained silent he knew what was about to come and he knew what to expect, they had trained him for just this. O'Connell sighed “I’m going to assume that Merrick Vendez was just an alias you gave me at the pub, so I’m going to ask kindly to surrender your real name to me.” Garvel remained silent. O'Connell’s shook his head.

O'Connell leaned back in his chair “You’re not from Crion, that much is clear. Never seen any of the governor’s goons with that much training or gear.” Garvel remained silent still. O’Connell sighed “Tell me off worlder what does Crion mean to you.” Garvel made no reply he had neither desire and nor answer. “Nothing, it means nothing to you just some gak hole with a lot of bread. For us its everything.” O'Connell repositioned himself to sit straight up “We are both soldiers, but you are missing something.” Garvel raised his head to listen. “Purpose.” The notion angered Garvel but he would not reward the traitor with a response. O'Connell continued “You think your comrades will rescue you. I have no doubt they will.” Garvel was confused what kind of interrogator reassures his captive he will be rescued? O'Connell continued “You aren’t a person to them, to them you are just an asset, a weapon to be replaced when broken. They aren’t coming for you they are coming for their weapon.” Garvel pushed these words these lies from his mind but still they oozed through his ears. O'Connell knelt down to face the scion eye to eye “You are more than that, you are a man one of the Emperor’s faithful. You need not live for those who do not have your own interest at hearts, you need not follow men who would see you die for stupidity. You are my brother.” The bearded man drew near to the restrained Scion and spoke “So tell me brother what is your name.” The scion remained silent and after a moment O'Connell turned to leave. Before O'Connell could take four steps the scion spoke in almost a whisper “My name is Garvel of the 85th Tempestus Scions.” O'Connell turned and spoke “Think on my words Garvel, you are your own man.” And with that O'Connell and his men left the warehouse leaving Garvel alone in the darkness.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/05/06 08:28:04


Post by: Robin5t


The prison, for lack of a better term, looked like all Ork buildings did – decrepit and on the brink of falling apart. However, it was clearly sturdy enough to hold off most of the things that would be likely to try and attack it.

This state of affairs suited Gitgrabba just fine. Gitgrabba was, at his core, a rather cowardly Ork – generally not willing to get into a fight with anything that had a weapon in its' hand and wasn't chained to a wall.

One would think that, given Ork culture, he would quickly end up dead. However, he was very good at keeping things locked up – and the Boss both noticed and appreciated these qualities, and so Gitgrabba had protection from his fellows, at least, as much as it was possible for an Ork to have.

The first indication he had that something his favour with the Boss offered no protection against had come for him was when the door to the prison literally disappeared in a burst of flame and force.

Scrambling, he grabbed his choppa and began to back away as a tall, thin figure walked through the passageway where the door used to be, holding a pair of red pistols, with another pair of crystal-esque pistols attached at his chest. He recognised the figure to be one of the knife-ears, like the ones they had been storing there not long ago.

“Well, well,” the knife-ear said in disappointment, “It appears our friends are not here. It's fortunate I kept you alive – you seem like the type of fellow who knows things.”

“You stay back, knife-ear!” Gitgrabba snarled nervously, holding his choppa, “Or me boyz outside will gut ya!”

“Outside?” his enemy tilted their head, “Oh, you mean those greenskins I slaughtered on the way in. Yes, I'm afraid they won't be 'gutting' anyone. And neither will you. Cuddio,” he clicked his fingers.

Suddenly, Gitgrabba felt something constrict around his limbs, snapping his arms out wide and rendering him unable to move. He tried to glance at whatever was the cause out of the corner of his eye, but he couldn't make out anything.

“Monofilament wire, a creature like you could not see it without assistance,” the knife-ear said simply, “The mimes are all very good with it, but my colleague Cuddio is a true artist. Now, then. My name is Feubryn Valorbane, and you, my friend, are going to answer some questions for me.”

“Why would I -” Gitgrabba's bit of defiance was cut off by his howl of agony as monofilament wire sliced off two of his fingers.

“Now, now,” Feubryn wagged his finger chidingly, “That wasn't a question. This, on the other hand, is; were there others like me held here?”

“Yeah!” Gitgrabba tried to struggle, but this only made the pain worse as the wires dug into his skin, “So wot?”

“I can't help but notice that they aren't here any more,” Feubryn noted, “Cuddio, two more fingers.”

The wires snapped shut, no sound but the Ork's roar of desperate agony.

“Now then,” Feubryn leaned in, “Where might my friends have gone, hmm?”

_____________

“Skulleater,” Feubryn tested the name on his tongue, “Skulleater. Descriptive name, don't you think? Skulleater.”

“…?”

“Why, yes, there is a reason I'm repeating it over and over. I'm making sure I've got the pronunciation right! After all, we are meeting this fellow soon and I'd like to make an… impression,” Feubryn replied cheerfully.

“...” Cuddio shrugged.

“Indeed,” Feubryn nodded as they approached the Starweaver waiting to pick them up, “We know where they are and that they're still alive, at least. I'd call this a successful excursion. Now, let us embark on another one.”

________________________________________

The Colosseum was a few miles into Avarqwell, and what was generally regarded by the locak Orks as Boss Skulleater's territory. A huge, wooden contraption filled with stands and surrounding a blood-soaked field, this bloody gladiatorial arena drew Orks from all around the continent, from other continents, and even some from off-world, all to participate in the only form of entertainment most Orks could get that wasn't involving themselves in a fight – watching one.

Orks against Orks was, of course, a common fixture, but if that was the only fight they had on the roster each week, it quickly would have gotten stale. Hence, they would often grab vicious wild beasts, humans, and anything else that they might want to see bleed and die for their amusement and was unfortunate enough to fall into their grasp.

Boss Skulleater had been on the receiving end of some significant and humiliating defeats, recently, and he needed to compensate – so compensate he did.

“All right, you bunch o' gits!” he roared into his voicegubbinz, an off-world Ork device that amplified his voice that he had traded for a couple of years back, “Everyone knows Skulleater knows where da best scrap is, and right now, the best scrap is about ta happen right here!”

A roar of Orkish approval from the crowd was his response.

“Now then, I gots somefin' REAL special for ya!” He grinned, “Gerra look at this!”

From out of a large door, cage was trundled onto the field by a group of Orks. Inside, were a group of slender humanoids the likes of which most of the Orks there had never seen before – but they recognised them, almost instinctively.

“That's right, boyz! Right 'ere, right now, you'z about to see some honest an' true knife ears in da ring!”

The crowd cheered rauciously back at him, bringing a grin to his face.

“Now, when we got them,” he lied blatantly about the circumstances in which he obtained these captives, “They had all kinds of flippygubbinz and spanglygubbinz that they used instead of fightin' like proppa boyz,” boos rang out, “But Boss Skulleater'll have none of that in his fightin' pit! So we took all their gubbinz and gave them choppaz. They'll be fightin' like Orkz!”

The crowd's mood improved even further.

“But, Boss Skulleater, you ask, wot are these knife-ears going to be fightin'?” He continued, “Well, bring it in, ladz!”

The opposite door opened, and another cage was trundled out, this time holding only one creature – a rather large and irate creature. Like a cross between reptile and insect, the most notable features being the two huge, scythe-esque talons it held over it's head.

A Tyranid. Specifically, a Lictor. The crowd went wild.

“Dat's right, boyz,” Skulleater called over the cheers, “It's a Leapabug! Dis critter killed a ton of boyz when we brought it in, and now it's time to see what else it can kill!”

“Now den,” he said, “We've got da fighta's ready to go… boyz! Let 'em loose!”

“I've got a better idea, Skulleater,” a new voice interjected, “And I'd like to share it with all of you.”

Every Ork in the stadium looked up at the Starweaver that was currently hovering above them. It floated slowly down into the middle of the ring.

A lone figure stepped off.

“Hello, Gentleorks!” He called, “My name is Feubryn Valorbane, and I'm here because you lot have been very, very naughty, and taken something that didn't belong to you!”

He waved over at the cage containing the trapped Harlequins. “I am, of course, referring to my colleagues, there. So, if you don't mind, or actually regardless of whether you mind or not, I'll be taking them and heading home.”

Skulleater managed to shake himself out of his fury. “YOU-”

“Now, now,” Feubryn cut him off, “No interrupting. Father is talking!”

“You – you knife eared-” Skulleater snarled.

“Don't make me come up there with the belt, young man,” Feubryn scolded.

“Come up here? What you gonna do, knife-ear? There'z only one of you, even wif your fancy flyin' machine,” Skulleater stood up, “And there'z a lot more of us! Tell him, boyz!”

In response, every Ork in the stadium began to roar angrily. The WAAGH! seemed to shake the very ground Feubryn stood on.

“Ah, but that's where you're wrong,” he said, smiling behind his mask, “There isn't only one of me.”

That's when all hell broke loose.

Mimes appeared from their hiding places, popping up in the middle of the crowded stands. Wraithbone Garrottes slashing left and right, lashed out before slipping away, leaving the watching Orks in pain and utter confusion – which quickly turned to violence, as the Orks turned on each other, believing their fellows to have attacked them.

Feubryn, on the other hand, stalked toward the cage holding the Twilight Troupe members.

The Ork handlers snarled and began charging forward to meet him, choppas raised – they fell before they even made two steps. The Great Harlequin holstered his Neuro Disruptors as he walked past the convulsing, dying forms of what would have been his enemies.

Many Harlequins favoured the Sword, or the iconic Harlequin's Kiss. Fewer still preferred to wield the Harlequin's Embrace, or even the deadly Harlequin's Caress. Feubryn, however, was different – he focused his time and effort into becoming a pistolier of the highest calibre. With a brace of pistols, including two Neuro Disruptors and two Fusion Pistols, he had the firepower to take out any threat, and both the skill and speed to use it to maximum effect – if he was being modest, he would still struggle to name any Harlequin as quick and accurate on the draw as he was.

He drew a Fusion Pistol. “Stand back,” he told his fellows, who promptly did as they were told.

With one blast, the door of the cage was no more.

“We are glad for your rescue, High Avatar-” The Dusk Knight began.

“Save it, and get your foolish hide into the Starweaver,” Feubryn said evenly, “When we get back to base, we will discuss the idiocy that forced this rescue in the first place.”

The other Harlequin winced, then nodded and ran toward the Starweaver, which was now hovering just above the ground.

Feubryn began to follow them, noting that the confusion in the stands had begun to die down, and the Orks were starting to focus on them again – some climbing over the walls to get into the stadium field itself.

On the other side of the field, the Orks holding the other cage hacked open the doors – only to immediately die as the Lictor inside leapt out and began tearing them apart.

Feubryn tapped a crystal in his pocket.

And at this psychic signal, the Masque of the Blameless Culprit's vehicle-borne contingent descended from the sky.

Skyweavers and Starweavers dived down, strafing the stands with deadly shuriken cannon fire that shredded Orks in their hundreds. Some of the more daring Skyweaver riders rode in low so that they could slash at the now rioting Orks with their Zephyrblades.

The Voidweavers joined the fray next – the blasts from their prismatic cannons lighting up the stands in spectacular laser blasts, sending Orks near the blast radius flying and obliterating those unfortunate enough to be directly in the line of fire.

However, many still made it onto the field. Feubryns' arms were a blur as he shot down foe after foe with his Neuro Disruptors, all while backpedaling toward the Starweaver, which had lifted off slightly and was heading toward him.

He heard the swing of an axe from behind him. The swing was promptly interrupted.

He turned, to see an Ork looking confused as his arm refused to budge. That confusion turned to pain and horror as his arm was then sliced apart, before his neck followed suit, ending his misery.

Fingers twitching to command the monofilament wires used to perform this kill, Cuddio nodded at Feubryn, who nodded back.

“A timely assist, my friend,” he said cheerfully, right pistol blasting another Ork while his left holstered the Neuro Disruptor to draw a Fusion Pistol, “Your sense of timing has always been impeccable.”

In response, Cuddio raised his arms. Feubryn could make out the tiny wires as they wrapped around the handles of various fallen Ork weapons.

Then, with a twitch of Cuddio's fingers, the weapons rose into the air. The Orks charging in from that direction paused at this wall of steel and sharpness.

Then, with another twitch, the weapons smashed into the Ork formation.

Choppas hacked apart hapless Orks as the Greenskins tried, vainly, to defend themselves from the weapons that moved almost as though the spirits of their deceased owners had possessed them.

This was Cuddio's skill – while most of the masque's Mimes used their Wraithbone Garottes as slashing weapons or silent killers, Cuddio had mastered monofilament wire to the point where he could made the world dance with his strings like a master of puppetry. He put this skill to use both in the Masque's performances, and on the battlefield, as seen today.

The confusion wrought by Cuddio's attack gave Feubryn a vital moment – which he used to leap up onto the waiting Starweaver. Cuddio, seeing that his work was done, swiftly followed suit, and the skimmer began rising, even as the rest of the skimmers continued to lay waste to the Ork crowd.

Few of the attending Orks had projectile weapons of any quality. The occasional bullet whizzed by, and throw spears fell well short of the vehicle as their throwers roared their frustration. Out of curiosity, Feubryn glanced down toward the other cage – the Lictor was gone, only bodies showing as evidence of it's existence.

Feubryn tapped his crystal again. “Well, this went as smoothly as we might have hoped,” he sighed, “Time to leave. We've given these fellows enough real entertainment for one day.”

Reacting to his signal, the Skyweavers, Starweavers and Voidweavers pulled away from their positions, rising up into the sky again.

Feubryn heard the Ork Warboss' scream of rage get fainter and fainter as they began their journey back to base.

“…” Cuddio looked at him.

“I know,” he replied grimly, “I saw it too.”

“The Lictor,” one of the rescued Harlequins said quietly.

“How did a group of primitives get hold of one? The most reasonable assumption, and one that we're going to have to work with, is that the Devourer has a presence on this planet,” Feubryn frowned behind his mask, “And it needs to be put down quickly, before this world becomes another Valedor.”



When they made it back into camp, they found Fallacy waiting for them.

“I see your quest was successful,” she noted at the appearance of the former captives.

“As successful as it could have been,” Feubryn agreed, “With some grim tidings to share. What about you? Where are Dranc and Imryll?”

“Dranc was injured by one of the site's defences, but he will live,” Fallacy said simply, “Imryll is tending to his wounds as we speak. As for our quest, we found two tomes, one of which I am certain will be of great importance once translated.”

“Good,” Feubryn nodded, “I will see to Dranc, have you already begun translating-”

That was when they felt it. Every Harlequin in the Masque, as one, looked up to the sky.

The sudden influx of malicious power seemed to shake the very fabric of the warp around it. It was as though the waves of the Immaterium's metaphorical sea had been crashed over by a massive tsunami of hate and malice.

As sensitive to the warp as their race was, the appearance of an extraordinarily powerful Daemon in the materium could incapacitate any who were near enough when it occurred. The Harlequins, however, were protected by their faith and their god – which meant they were instantly able to digest what had happened and what it meant.

“How?” Feubryn was the first to speak, and he was extraordinarily angry, “There should be seers watching, plans in place, safeguards!”

“I don't know,” Fallacy said grimly, staring at the spot where the planet's moon would become visible in the night sky.

“Is that it? Is that the catastrophe? Have we already failed?”

“I do not think so,” Fallacy shook her head, “Normally, the appearance of a Daemon like that is the end-game for any aspiring Chaos cult. This,” she frowned, “This feels like only part of a larger plan.”

Feubryn grimaced. “You have a better feel for these things than any of us. How powerful is it?”

“More powerful than me,” Fallacy said with certainty, “I doubt I could face it alone for long. We need more, more to throw at it, a means to beat it. A Daemon of that power can not materialise without either a powerful artefact or dozens of temples to tether it to the material world. One thing is for certain,” she turned to the Great Harlequin, “We need to be on that moon.”

With that, they both turned to find the other leadership figures in the Masque, the possible threat of the Great Devourer long forgotten.

Spoiler:
Victory, rescued my captured guys from the Orks and inadvertently freed a Lictor while I was at it.



Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/05/06 12:23:05


Post by: jhe90


Honours earned (wolf base, hive grimjoy then ruined estate, last site henery)

The Medicare teams where busy with the wounded from the recent raid on the ork camp and several where having new augmentic limbs fitted along with treating the orks vichous melee and gunshot wounds. Even with the elite staff time would be the only healer for some as humans could only take so much trauma.

Meanwhile at the chomand centre at the control tower dozens of scout reports where being collated into a detailed local map and intelligence data base including several overgrown and deralict ork camps, and more interesting to the lords a stone ruin massively overgrown of a hard stone only found hundreds of miles away and not native to the islands. Too well built to be local tribes in the jungles, orks who built rough but solid structures of the local iron hard jungle wood and definitely formed by men. Looking over the holo scans of the ruins and it's sourounding terrain features. “Costal, look to grid D7, stone pier supports and buckled metal beams. Evidence of small shelteted harbour and it's foundation, too straight to be a natural formation of stone. Grids G7 to G12 in particular then curves off East to link to the cliff face” Wolf Guard Conan saw that and more from the holo projection, buildings, ruins and a round base higher on a promitory of a ruined light house. “Aye I see it, looks like a costal estate and guarded by a large gate house with two flanking towers positioned on the natural raised area of rock. Some one important or something “ Lord storm claw saw the map unfold, a ruined access road this place was getting rather more interesting than before and the layout was making best use of a cliffside area raised higher than the jungles below. “Then we go Conan, ready a team, fuel the blood eagle. Sitting about behind our high walls was not our life, let's find some trouble and poke it” Lord Storm claw smiled it was always good to face dangers, the wilderness and more sagas to his extensive personal saga that lay on the desk bound in thick leather with strong metal binding.

The ruined complex had been long reclaimed by the jungles slow but unstoppable progress, stone forced and cracked as nature applied its unbreaking pressure. Upper levels russled as leaves moved in the wind and birds and smaller animals nested above the hunters that stalked the Forrest floor hiding the basements and sub levels of the ruins like caves and dens of nature.

The gunship was idling on the pad as Lord Storm claw approached his wolf guard stood alongside their massive mounts known as Thunder wolves panting and growling lone hunters not ment to be together or confined in small spaces they snarled and restlessly stalked each other. “Easy, open space soon” Lord Storm claw controlling the beast and easing it, mighty wolves, deadly and clad in fur like armour that was proof vs all but the sharpest blades and bullets. Gathered alongside a unit of the legendary thunder wolf cavalry equally mounted on their lethal and willful Stead's only a space wolf could ever command and never fully tame.

“This is Blood Eagle ready to depart to war” “ confirmed, good hunting Lord Storm claw”

Landing near the ruins in a jungle clearing far enough not to startle anything dwelling there but not too far to reduce the speed of response if help was needed. Secondary gunships cleared an area to land heavier support if needed and deploy the reserve forces.

Loud howls of man and beast as they charged into the jungle and spirits rose following the ruined road as riders flew over the gaps, jumped mighty trees thick as a battle tank and whose riders raced and joked as they sought to be the first to the gates drinking, feasting and laughing as they rode. Changing the instant they reached the gates they slowed and began to enter a open and overgrown plaza, terraced and tactically bad place to linger. “Spread out, weapons tight unless needed” the Lords orders confirmed with curt nods as they began to spread and explore the ruined buildings.

Meanwhile….
“This is Ivar, fire on my mark” the long fang pack let loose a blinding flash of incandescent energy at the door ernough to melt a land raider to molten slag. “Fire again, burst fire” slowly the door sagged and bucked before the last volley it gave way and a blast of stale air rewarded the Kraken slayers breach.

Two packs of grey hunters fanned out and spread out scanning the space, a garage of relics and items lost to time. Rhino tanks and predator battle tanks dating back to the great crusade of demios patterns, mklb land raider towering in the back and a large shadow deeper into the room. “This is team two, we need a iron priest and a thunderhawk transporter. Good find command “ “copy team two, support on route soon as able to take off asap. “ came commands reply. 12 rhino of the demios type, two mk1b land raiders and 3 intact preadetor tanks. Far in the back a great marstadin stood towering over all and hull marked with a great sigil of a dragon.

Further deep in the garage past the relics they found a buckled and bent door forced open yet no one had entered this room in centuries at the least. “ Sgt, only a power fist could do this damage, a dreadnought most likely “ placing a gauntlet on the frame and looking into the dark. “ aye, dreadnought. Keep a eye on that area beyond but keep a low profile, quiet and discreet but be on your guard.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/05/06 14:49:49


Post by: Sgt. Vanden


The Thunderhawk roared once more into Hive Grimjoy. Ceasar and his five scouts sat in the crew compartment.
“Pilot! Tell Lord Stormclaw that Captain Xenthes is coming back for round two.” Ceasar called out to the pilot, who did as he was asked. After a few minutes, the pilot called back.
“Sir, he says you still owe him tales of our chapter to add to the Saga’s of Fenris.”
“Blimey I thought he would’ve forgotten that after the 8th drink…Fine, tell him that after I come back, I will tell him over a mug of cold mead.”
“Yessir.” Again a wait for the response. “He says he looks forward to it. Debarkation in 5 minutes.”
Once again, Ceasar and his retinue were met once more by Lord Stormclaw. Ceasar heard him and smelt him long before he saw him, the booming laughter and prominent smell of booze on him easily identified him.
“CAPTAIN XENTHES! AHA! IT’S BEEN A WHILE FRIEND!” Lord Stormclaw greeted Ceasar with a massive bear hug, which derived said captain of air for the duration of the hug.
“G-great to see y-you too…Lord S-Stormclaw…” Ceasar took in a massive breath as soon as he was released. “It’s good to have access to my lungs once more…But I’m afraid my eardrums will never recover…”
“So, what brings you here Captain?” He asked in his booming voice.
“I come here to thank the Valornarmsmen for killing the Warboss who plagued the Namrex Dunes. Any idea where they might be?”
“Aye, I have an idea. But you must tell me more about your Chapter first, your Chaplain promised last time but he left before I woke up from my hangover.” Lord Stormclaw crossed his arms.
“I will tell you a fraction of it before I attend to the matter of thanking House Valorn whilst there is still sunlight out. Have you ever heard of The Tragedy of Darth Plaigeis The Wise? Of the recent demise of my Chapter, where a full 4 fifths of us turned to Chaos. All because of one man. He sowed corruption through the ranks, many of my fellow captains fell to his meddling. I am just happy he is dead now. I will go into more detail once I get back. On my honour.”
“Pah that is good enough. House Valorn, their staff and whatnot are stationed over there.” He pointed towards a part of the camp. “Good luck navigating through the camp.”
“Thank you, I’ll see you again in a few hours.”
“I look forward to it, Brother-Captain.” After another breath taking embrace, the pair parted and went their separate ways.

Ceasar was met by two armed guards bearing the colours of House Valorn.
“Stop there Lord. May we inquire as to why you come to this part of the Hive? You are obviously not Space Wolves.” One of the guards called out. Ceasar and the three scouts behind him stopped he held out his arms in a form of surrender.
“We mean no harm, I just wanted to congratulate the warriors who killed a pest over in the Namrex Dunes. Armsmen I believe.” Ceasar kept his tone as friendly as possible, and the two guards seemed to notice it.
“If you’re talking about the warboss, then yes, that was the armsmen. Tell us your names and we’ll talk to some higher ups and see if we can’t get you inside.”
“I am Captain Xenthes,” He pointed to the three scouts behind him in sequence. “Jakiel, Matieil and Ganus.” He then pointed off to the distance. “Vanus and Sergeant Daniel and also back there ready to fire at both of you.” The two guards seemed particularly distraught at the last comment, ducking down behind sandbags. “Pah, don’t worry, I just wanted to test out your defence. And, if I’m to be honest, I’m not overly impressed.” Ceasar stopped and put his hand up to his ear. “What is the problem Daniel? Oh, well then, come on down and introduce me to your new friends.” The two guards warily poked their heads out from the cover. “Sorry about that gents, but it appears you have one upped us.” Ceasar said as the other two scouts appeared each clad in jungle patterned camo-cloaks, followed by four armoured men. Ceasar looked them over. He was impressed. It was almost as if he was looking at the men of the Solar Auxillia. The one at the front held a higher composure, and flexed a massive powerfist.
“I commend you for spotting my scouts. Not a lot of people have the hindsight to do just that.” Ceasar said as he offered his hand to the man. “Whom do I have the pleasure of speaking to?”
“They were well hidden yes, but we have the entire area monitored. Captain Falkon, and you are?” The Captain reached out with his powerfist and shook Ceasars hand.
“Captain Xenthes of the Chapter Dorn’s Wish. You caught out my two best scouts, and that is very commendable. I also assume you are the one who killed Kernal Bloodkill?”
“Yes, but I had help. Armsmen and Volkite weapons tend to break a few skulls, if you get my jist.”
“More like char them. Did you see what you sent us? If it wasn’t for the note, I was going to assume the Wolves had played another one of their famous pranks again.”
“Indeed Captain. So, what brings you here, and why is it you didn’t send any notice?”
“Well, Captain Who’s Name Sounds Vaguely Familiar, I wanted to come and congratulate the people who managed what even I could not. And I’m one for ‘unexpected arrivals’.” Falkon nodded his head a few times.
“Thank you, now, was there anything else?” He raised his eyebrow expectantly.
“Oh, yes, that’s right, I wanted to secure a ‘proper’ alliance between House Valorn and my Chapter. You wouldn’t know who I could talk to about that now would you?” It was Ceasar’s turn to raise his eyebrow expectantly this time.
“That’d be High Queen Moira. I can take you to her if you want?”
“Oh yes, that would be great. Oh, and say sorry to those two lads by the front, I may have gone overboard with the ‘testing the defences’ thing.”
“I’ll tell them that Sir, now, if you could follow me.” Falkon gestured towards the two guards who opened the doors to the compound.

“High Queen Moira is getting prepared. In the meantime, I thought it would be fun to explore the compound.” Falkon said as he led Ceasar and Sergeant Daniel through the depths of the area the armsmen had deployed in.
“You know the word fun does not resonate within the majority of Space Marines.” Daniel responded coldly.
We, are not part of the majority. Continue please Falkon.” Ceasar said as he nudged Daniel into silence.
“Thank you Captain. Now, to our left, we have the garage of the Knight Acheron. It’s Pilot is Baron Cassius Valorn.”
“Acheron? I do not believe I have heard of that type of Knight before. Could I have some more details on it? For purely informational purposes, I assure you.” Ceasar smiled warmly.
“Of course Captain.” Falkon nodded as he made his way into the garage. “As you can possibly tell, it has a very large Chainfist. Also a Archeron pattern Flamer, which as you can also tell, is just a very large flamer. Everything else is common on other Knights.”
“Feth those bunkers…” Ceasar said in a hushed tone as he looked over the massive suit, which was met by a sharp elbow to the gut by Daniel.
“Language Captain.” Daniel said as straight faced as he could.
“Did you just? Emperor, I won’t even ask…” Ceasar stared blankly at Daniel. After taking several more steps, Falkon stopped and put his unarmoured hand up to his ear.
“Yes M’lady, we’ll be up shortly.” He turned to face the pair once more. “I’m afraid I’ll have to cut the tour short, High Queen Moira is ready to see you now. If you’ll follow me…” Falkon moved past the pair.
“More bloody stairs…” Ceasar was met by another elbow to the gut. “Can you stop that?”
“I’m sorry, it’s just too fun.” Daniel smiled under his cowl.

Moira offered her hand to Ceasar, who bowed respectively and kissed it.
“High Queen Moira, it appears that you are no less beautiful than the day I saw you at the Governor’s mansion.” Ceasar smiled, first, well, second impressions were important.
“And I see you are no less charming. Strange, I thought that was one of many emotions drilled out of you Space Marines at a young age.” Moira mused as she retracted her hand.
“Just stereotypes M’Lady, our Ultramarine Brothers would say the exact same thing to us.” Ceasar looked beside him, then back at Moira. “Oh, where are my manners, this is Sergeant Daniel. Daniel, say hi.” Daniel growled at Ceasar before also kissing Moira’s hand.
“Excuse the Captain please, High Queen, we all believe he was dropped as a toddler, and the apothecary’s took him in because they felt sorry for his family.” Daniel once again retreated into the confines of his cowl to smile to himself. Ceasar pulled Daniel away from the High Queen and once again addressed her.
“So, shall we get down to business?” Ceasar smiled as she gestured to the table.

“So it’s settled? We finish the alliance with something special…But what could possibly be special enough to cement a brand new alliance…Oh, a hunt! We go on a hunt?” Seeing the confused expressions from around the table Ceasar continued. “We” He gestured at Daniel. “Go on a hunt, with you” He gestured at Moira and Falkon. “Easy enough, we go out, kill a few animals, come back and it’s settled.” Ceasar sat back down, looking quite proud of himself.
“Ok, so your saying, we go out and kill innocent animals to eat, just so we can finish this alliance? I don’t know about the rest of you, but that seems a little harsh…” Daniel once again crossed his arms. There were so many better ways to go about this, but his Captain always had the most outrageous ideas…
“Who knows, the little furries might’ve pissed on a shrine of the Emperor for all we know.” Falkon joked. The rest of the group, barring Daniel, shared a laugh.
“So it’s settled? High Queen, will you be joining us?” Ceasar asked as the entire group rose.
“No, I do not believe I will be able to. My brother Cassius might want to join you instead.” She shook her head sadly.
“Who?” Ceasar questioned. Daniel thought it to be wise to jog his Captains memory.
“You know, Baron Cassius Valorn? We saw his Knight?” Seeing the blank expression on Ceasars face he continued. “Ugh…Feth those bunkers…” Daniel rubbed his temples.
“Ohhhhh! I remember now, brilliant, we will prepare. Be ready within in the hour, we will.” With that, both Ceasar and Daniel bowed to Moira and left the room.
“…”
“…”
“I haven’t seen Space Marines quite like those before, that’s for sure.” Moira spoke to her advisor.
“Do you really think you want to speak to them again?” Falkon asked, all the while staring at the doorway.
“Probably. That was fun.” Moira smiled. Falkon noticed that, and took pleasure that she did.
“As do I.” Falkon kissed Moira’s hand and left to gather the hunting party, including Cassius.

Spoiler:
Part uno of duo



Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/05/06 20:44:19


Post by: chazz huggins


The access lift was disabled forcing the inquisitorial forces to rely on humbler means of transit. The great freeway of stairs that allowed for the humble denizens of Cogger Hive to traverse from level to level as the great lifts were reserved exclusively for business and the noble. The men encountered some resistance as they traversed up the great stairwell but nothing they couldn’t handle. Eventually after near six hours of walking and occasional fighting the entirety of the inquisition war band made it up to the upper hive. The upper Hive was once a realm of elegant gleaming spires and the posh of noble fancy. One would hardly think they were even in a hive thanks to the artificial sky that hung overhead. However, this dreamland was now perverted by the claws that wrench the psyche of man. Men hanged from lamp poles, horrific runes were carved into every wall, and the once always false blue sky bled a horrific crimson.

As the soldiers emerged from the stairwells they were met by a wall of auto fire. The legionaries and storm troopers rushed for the nearest cover and began clearing the cultist that fortified the building that stood against the Inquisition’s access points. After five hours of fighting the inquisition had secured only a few feet of the hive level. They had but stalemated with the cultists securing only nothing but their own entrance.

Inquisitor Garrett Randall convened his war council in a blown out shop only a block away from the line of cultist exchanging potshots with the inquisitor’s own forces. The sound of gun fire cracked in the not distance and from the broken window panes one could see squads of Penal guardsmen and Randall’s Elite rush to reinforce their embattled comrades, while men on stretchers were being hauled back to the medical tents. Randall saw all his advisors were present and began to speak “The cultists have consolidated all their forces here; we have thus far barely managed to gain any ground at all. If we are to make it to the citadel than we need to regain the advantage.” Randall leaned over the table and pointed to a point on the map of the upper hive and began speaking again. “As you know these Cultists have shut off the lifts forbidding us from bringing in our tanks. Naturally having these would prove invaluable to our efforts here, so we must capture the lift controls here.” Randall looked over to Captain Kid “Captain Kid, I’m assigning you and your men to handle this.” Kid pounded her fist to her chest plate and spoke “I won’t fail you my lord.” Randall Looked over to Commissar Alenko and spoke “Jethro I’m placing you in command here while I’m away.” Alenko asked “Where do you think your going.” Randall spoke “These cultist fight with uncanny determination, they may have something planned I wish to scout ahead with the Jackals to ensure that all is well.” Kid spoke with some concern as the Jackals was the informal nickname of a squad of penal guardsmen reputed for being an unruly lot of vagabonds “My lord wouldn’t you prefer a squad of my troopers to accompany you.” Randall spoke “The Jackal have proven themselves masters of stealth and reconnaissance. I will take them.” Athenar spoke “You take great risk in doing this Inquisitor, I insist you take me or Utilitarius for your protection.” Randall shook his head “Brother Captain You are needed here as is Paladin Utilitarius.” Athenar added “At the very least take Brother Chiron a single battle brother won’t make a difference here.” Randall conceded “Very well then, his psychic aptitude might come in handy.” Randall looked over his men and spoke “We all have tasks see to them.” And with that everyone in the room pounded their fists to their chests and left to make ready for what lay ahead.

The sewage pipes that ran under the upper hive led to the lower sections of the hive where it dumped freely upon the less fortunate denizens. Captain Kid was glad her helmet filtered out the smell of this place which she could only imagine to be horrid. As if the sewer hadn’t been repulsive enough the cultists had been dumping corpses here and the rats were drawn to them in hordes. Kid signaled her squad to hold as they came to their destination. She looked up above at the grate overhead. She could see two cultists standing overhead smoking. Kid signeld for one of her men to hand her the explosive charge and the trooper removed the explosive from a leather satchel. Kid climbed the later and placed the charge.

The ground exploded and from it poured over a dozen soldiers in silver and black carapace armor. The cultist began to take aim at the sudden invaders but the commandos were already upon them. Hot shot las fire turned the crude defenders to ash in less than two minutes the cultist that occupied the lift control center were dead. Kid spoke over her communicator “We have the lift bringing it back on line.” It was Alenko’s voice that replied over the vox “Excellent work, we’ll have our armored support within three hours. I’m sending you reinforcements to help you hold the junction.” Kid spoke “Copy that.” One of Kids men asked with a grin as she killed the link “We’re getting back up from the cons?” Kid spoke “Probably why.” The trooper laughed “I don’t think they have proper hazmat gear for that sewer.” Kid chuckled “I suppose they’ll just have to hold their breath.”

Garrett Randall’s expedition into enemy territory was already at a poor start. They had nearly been spotted by three massive cultists patrols. Prisoner 3434 was worried Brother Chiron would betray their position due to his massive stature but he knew when to lay low. The citadel was the hive’s capital and had become the fortress headquarters of the cult. The squad was heading up a boulevard when they heard the beat of a drum in the distance. Randall pointed towards an abandoned building and Arbitrator Halouck motioned for his men to clear the building. The building was confirmed secure and the party waited hunkering low as the parade of cultist passed the house, marching and singing. Above the chant came the booming hiss of a demented preacher “Forward you dogs, we are awaited at the side of the dark gods! Ave Lazarus Ave the Flayed Legion.” The marching cultists returned the shout and continued their dark war hymn. For near fifteen minutes the inquisitor’s retinue laid low in the house. When the coast seemed clear Randal arose and spoke with regret “Their forces are to thick this way, if we continue we’ll only get ourselves killed.” Chiron spoke “Are we heading back Inquisitor.” Randall nodded “We’ll rejoin the rest of the men and try to push ahead with them.” And without another word the inquisitor and his men made their way back.

When Randall arrived the last of the Malcador Tanks had exited the lift and Captain Kid had radioed that she and her men were on their way back. Randall looked to the distant citadel spire and knew that things were reaching a turning point.



Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/05/06 21:38:26


Post by: Sgt_Smudge



Vandred stood before the Tiller's commander.
The man, known as Captain David Nassau, had been more than willing to open up his gates to accept Vandred and his honour guard, especially when he spied the sack of loot he was hauling. Vandred had explained his situation bluntly - omitting how he had would have sold guns to the loyalists. As far as Nassau knew, he had been ambushed on his way back to his outpost by loyalists, who robbed him of his weaponry, and left him for dead. The captain accepted his story, and offered retribution. Just as expected.
Now would be the hard part. Vandred had ordered his honour guard to remove their tattered robes and hoods. The rags came off, and their Tau combat armour stood out, alien and angular to the human rebels. Vandred explained himself.

"Hold your fire! We mean you no harm - we are emissaries of Sunstrike Cadre. We used to be part of the Tau Empire, before we left their tyranny behind. You fight the same battle as us, for equality and freedom from injustice. The loyalist dogs are corrupt and writhing in the filth of their opulent overlords. But you - you embody what Sunstrike was. We would be honoured to aid you and support the cause of justice, no matter your race. And when we triumph, we may be able to prosper together. What say you, Captain?"

Nassau reached for his sword. Vandred resisted the urge to draw his pistol and blast the human away, showing no fear in front of the man. He tensed, waiting for the sword to slice at him. The blade slid out of the scabbard, and Nassau held it up to Vandred. He spoke, both to the Fireblade and his men.
"On my honour, and the honour of the Tillers' cause, I accept your aid. Sunstrike Cadre and the Tillers will fight together."
Vandred realised that Nassau's gesture was a salute - a sign of peace. Peace through superior strength. Vandred drew his own sword, and crossed blades with the rebel leader. The pact was sealed. Nassau's men cheered, and the captain sheathed his saber.
"Now Vandred, come here: we have battle plans to draw."

-----------------------------------


Vandred checked his pulse rifle for the umpteenth time. He wasn't sure if being in a bathyscaph, literally grinding against the sea bed, would be any good for the weapon's calibration. He hoped he wouldn't need to find out. The rest of the bathyscaph was filled by a combination of troops. Some were Vandred's own honour guard and some Pathfinders: they remained aloof from the other passengers.

Nassau's men were clad in their makeshift flak armour - some left over from their PDF training, others still sporting punctured from lasrifle rounds. Vandred wasn't sure if the previous occupant had been a Tiller or a loyalist. Some of the Tillers were wrapping their grubby hands around the pulse carbines and various other weapons Vandred had gifted them. It was somewhat amusing to see them handling the alien rifles, constantly stripping the gun and running oil over it. He heard a word muttered repeatedly under their breath - "Omnissiah". Vandred made a mental note to research the matter.

Vandred peered out of the window. Dirty plumes of debris blossomed up from the sea floor of the Abyssal Plain, trailing behind the bathyscaph. In the inky water, Vandred could glimpse the spotlights of the other bathyscaphes - at least another dozen of the craft. The Tillers were going to war.

"Stop!" The pilot called from the cockpit. Alarm laced his voice.

"What is it?" Nassau waded through the sea of humans and Tau, making his way to the cockpit. Vandred followed him, ducking below the low hanging lights. The pilot merely pointed up through the pexi-glass.
The meagre sun's light surrounded the vast creature. Bio-luminescent parasites crawled on it's underbelly, marking it's scarred and craggy hide. Long, tentacle-like fronds drooped from it's jaws, and Vandred gazed in wonder. A big, black eye regarded the convoy of bathyscaphes, and the whale moved on. Vandred could feel the thrashing of it's monstrous tail, the beating of it's massive heart. He let out an involuntary breath as the beast swam off.

"We got very lucky - Bottom Whales have accounted for far too many deaths down on the Abyssal Plain," Nassau sighed. "Must've feed recently."

The convoy continued with speed, skirting around the edge of AHC-02 until they reached their entry point, with each craft touching up against the plasteel wall. Nassau called the halt. Two fusion cutters extended from the front of each bathyscaph, sending up silvered plumes of bubbles from the depths. Vandred asked what they were for.

"These used to operate in the caves a few clicks away from here. These were built to clear through any rockfalls that might trap a ship down there. Now we'll repurpose them."

The fusion cutters touched up against the wall of AHC-02, and began breaching. Airtight seals linked the breach sites to the hulls, and the men inside each bathyscaph prepared their weapons one last time. Nassau gave his last orders.

"Today, the loyalists fall! Tillers we are, and the Tillers are given divine aid. The Sun strikes with us, and will drive out the shadow of tyranny and incompetence - for Crion!"

The breaches opened up, and the hatches opened up to the slaughter.

-----------------------------------

Vandred wiped his blade on the corpse of the dead Imperial at his feet. The assault had gone well, with his own men remaining unscathed as the Tillers pushed up, desperate for blood. Vandred, thirsty for revenge, had led a side charge against a battery of autocannons. The gunners' weak armour was nothing to the pulse rounds of Vandred's team, and their commander had roared in fury, throwing aside his lasgun and drawing a shock maul out. Vandred met their commander head on, his power sword alight with unbridled energy. It hadn't ended well for the commander.
Now the guns were silent, the slowed Tiller front could advance, and soon, their breaching charges began tearing holes in the loyalist barricade. The loyalists fought like cornered dogs, firing well-aimed volleys from the breach points. For a moment, it looked as if the tide of battle would turn.

Vandred slipped into a side building, and began scaling the stairwell up. Some of his fireteam followed, the rest holding suppressive fire at the back of the street the Tillers had piled up in. Vandred smashed out a half-ruined window, and oversaw the interior of the loyalist compound.

The soldiers were forming makeshift barricades within their cordon, preparing for the Tillers to breach through. Marshalling their defence, some commander in a black coat and peaked cap brandished an oversized pistol and yelled litanies from the top of her voice. From the scope of his pulse rifle, Vandred could see the wide berth the men were giving her, and the handful of blown-out corpses at the woman's feet. 'A Commissar,' Vandred thought.
"Light her up." he beckoned to the Pathfinders beside him. They obliged, lining up their markerlights and illuminating the Commissar on the Tau combat system. The rest of Vandred's men raised their pulse rifles expectantly. They hung on the Gue'vesa's word.

"Fire."

-----------------------------------

It had been a success. With the death of the loyalist's commissar, the defenders lost all heart - as the front ranks found themselves unsupported by their fleeing comrades, they were cut down by Captain Nassau and his men, leaving the remnants of AHC-02's PDF fleeing for the only available transport out to the Governor's Palace. Those that never made it were cornered and captured. Vandred found Nassau after the battle, carousing and singing in joy as the Imperial banners burned.

"Ah! My friend!" Nassau beckoned Vandred over. "You are the architect of this!" He gestured to the joyful chaos around them. The men raised their weapons in salute to Vandred. "The Tillers are in your debt, friend. I'll send a full report to our leader, telling them that Sunstrike Cadre is supportive of our cause. Emperor be with you."

Nassau grabbed Vandred's hand, shaking the Fireblade's dark hand. Vandred returned the motion, grinning to the captain.

"And you too."


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/05/06 21:56:03


Post by: Tactical_Spam


Forget all you remembered
Forget the sins you have committed
Forget the sins of your Brothers
Forget the betrayal

From today on,
You are renewed

From today on,
You are redeemed

From today on,
You are retribution

Purge the Sin
Purge the Mutant
Purge the Witch
Purge the Heretic

From today on,
You are an Arbiter

-The Rite of the Arbiter


Judge Hetarr made a wide, sweeping gesture with his arm and his Astartes fanned out through the jungle, leaving ten meters between each of them. Such was written down in the Codex Astartes. This was the first active combat the Arbiters had seen since the fall of the New Order, an event which left a bad taste in the Veterans of the chapter. Though notoriously radical before, the Arbiters of Truth were strictly adherent to the Codex Astartes. They did not wish to suffer the repercussions from the Imperium that their fall had given them in consequence. They could not requisition materials such as bionics, new Power Armour or vehicles that were so vital to their crusade of penance. They had to settle with their battle-scarred relics and their salvage from the fateful Charadon Crusade. Fortunately enough, Mars was gracious enough to allow them to replenish their Gene-seed stocks at the cost of sending some Aspirants to Mars to become Techmarines, a practice not practiced since the formation of the New Order. Along with the new Brothers of the Omnissiah, the Arbiters allowed a new Librarius to be established, though the Chapter leaders knew they would be despised by most of the chapter. An Apothecarium replaced the Sister Hospitallers whom fled the Kattifrakk system in the wake of the fall, fearing the spread of Chaos followed the Loyal New Order Astartes to their reclusive home system. From then on, the Arbiters became more self-sustaining than their predecessors. They could harvest their own gene-seed and repair their own equipment.

The Judges, in the face of all this new frontier, refused to change. Their position, which encompassed the tradition roles of Captain and Chaplain, was deemed to important to divide into separate parts. They did, however, reform the Hassassins, the New Order's headhunters. They reintigrated the anonymous killers into the ranks of the up and coming Second and Third Companies. Their purpose was to root out all signs of doubt or behaviour deemed "dangerous to the survival of the Chapter." All deaths were made to look like accidents. A friendly fire casualty here, a death to a hidden enemy there. None could point back at the Arbiters for the blame of these deaths and none wanted to. No one wished to be the next target in the sights of the Hassassins.

Judge Hetarr stopped his men at a line of trees that broke into a steep overhang. At the bottom of the overhang was a massive gulch. A large waft of black smoke billowed past Hetarr and his men. It heralded the beginning of what they discovered. Ork factories spanned the entire length of the gulch and belched thick black clouds that painted the sky with smog. One of Hetarr's marines stepped forward and mag locked his bolter to his leg.

"Brother-Judge... Are those-"

The Judge held up a hand for him to stop. Something monumental was moving. The earth was moving. The Marines behind Hetarr ducked behind trees and aimed their bolters high as a monstrous abomination rose from the gulch. It was a colossal figure like an Ork, but manufactured in a crude resemblance of one of their gods. Hetarr knew what it was. A Gargant. More of its kind rose from the ground and clamored for a chance to get out of the gulch. These creations were smaller, though still larger than anything the Imperium had brought to the table.

"Send a message back to Crusade Command on Crion. Tell Annala we have another Gallor Prime incident on our hands," Hetarr said, turning back and heading towards the trees, keen on not being obliterated by one of the orkoid titans. The ork tide would most definitely take a long time to reach the orbital elevator to reach Crion, but that would hardly be enough time. The Marine in charge of the long range comms began send packets of information to Crion via a large, hardly man-portable vox caster. A servo skull over his shoulder whirred to the edge of the overhang and recorded what it could of the Ork manufactorum.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/05/07 02:43:57


Post by: War Kitten


Farseer Lilliana sat quietly in mediation, both her mind and body at ease. As she sat she quetly went through the breathing exercises that she had been taught when she had first set foot on the Path of the Seer. The exercises were designed to help open the participant’s mind, to make it easier for them to divorce themselves from their thoughts, and to see the skein of fate with an impartial lens. As she drifted slowly through her own consciousness she finally felt at ease, and for the first time in several days she finally felt a sense of peace and contentment wash over her. Her base of operations was secure, and events at Hive Cogger were going according to fate’s skein according to Warlock Raela, and she felt something that she hadn’t felt for many weeks now. Hope. Hope that all the sacrifices she had made, all the grief and pain that she had experienced would all turn out to be worth it, that fate was truly fair in the end. It was a pleasant feeling, and she reveled in it for a few more moments before she turned her attention back to the skein of fate. As always she was taken aback by the sheer scale of what she could see. Unfolded before her were chains of events that guided the lives and futures of nearly every being in this system, both of what had already happened, and what was to come in the future. As she watched some threads snapped and disappeared, and others wove themselves into being to take their place. It never ceased to amaze her just how much of a benefit being able to access this was to the Eldar race, without it they most likely would have died out as a species long ago. “Stop it!” she chastised herself mentally, she didn’t have the luxury of spending time lost in her own thoughts, she needed to see what impact Raela’s actions, and the actions of the other races, had had on the skein. She focused her mind on one small section of the skein, and she began to observe the impacts that the decisions of the other races had made on the skein, and mentally she began to adjust her plans to keep fortune firmly on the side of the Eldar. If she played her cards correctly then events would continue to unfold in her favor in the coming future, and she grinned slightly, secure in the knowledge of what she needed to do next. The smile quickly fell away; however, as she noticed the skein begin to change.

Where once there was a vast network of possibilities, that slowly grew and shrank as new factors came into play, one by one the strands that represented the future of her camp began to disappear, to be replaced by one dark, single thread. As she examined the thread closer, she began to see flashes of an attack on an Eldar camp, of a patrol being cut down by Orks who displayed a quite unusual proclivity for stealth, and her blood ran cold. She intuitively knew that part of this vision had already come true, the patrol that she had sent out had undoubtedly fallen to the brutish Orks, but based on the quiet calm she could hear outside the Orks had yet to launch their raid on her camp. Lilliana bolted to her feet and darted for the exit, she had a small window of time to prepare her kin for the oncoming attack, and she intended to make full use of every second of time that fate would give her.

Spoiler:
My part of the debacle that was the Ork attack on my camp, I lost a patrol to the Orks, and Robin ends up pulling my butt from the fire. I'm sorry that it's not that long, but I've had zero time write the last few days, and I wasn't in the mood to try and write out a big blurb. Hope you guys still enjoy



Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/05/08 14:15:58


Post by: Irishpeacockz


The squads that Cearul had chosen to ambush and kill Gorehound Da Cook had assembled in the courtyard of Canis Caelum where over two thirds of the pack were assembled, ready to get vengeance for the mockery that was made of the chapter in the jungle. Faolan peered through the window overlooking the courtyard from his office, eager to see just how much of his teachings had rubbed off on his subordinate. Upon first glance Cearul did not seem to be taking any chances and had assembled the majority of the pack with Devastator squads Neart and Bua, Tactical squads Fraoch and Mara, Assault squads Onòir and Trodaithe along with two packs of hounds which Faolan recognised as the Fianna breed from which his own hound was from and which were the toughest breed that the chapter possessed in the kennels, although that may change soon mused Faolan as his eyes drifted to the two predator destructors which were making their way to the landing pads to be prepared for transportation. Faolan grinned, if Gorehound is baited into this ambush, he won't stand a chance.

Cearul surveyed the force he had mustered, every marine eager to spill ork blood, taking a deep breath Cearul approached the platform overlooking the crowded courtyard. His brothers hushed and silence reigned supreme in the courtyard as Cearul stood above his brethren. “Brothers, this is not the first time we have gone to put this foul xenos down but it will be the last. We didn't know where he made his camp, where he was hiding from our justice but this beast has not a single thought in his head and we will take full advantage. We will lure the creature out from his precious jungle into a killzone, with the packs of Fianna and the assault squads closing off their rear trapping them, as an old Terran saying goes it will be like shooting fish in a barrel. Now brothers man your transports, the hunt begins !” Cearul threw a mailed fist into the air where sixty or so fists mirrored his followed by roars,cheers and even howls from the dogs themselves, a mighty host indeed reflected Cearul as he made his way to a thunderhawk while being flanked by Ardan and Cabhan who would be accompanying him on this mission. “Well young pup” smirked Cabhan, talking as they walked “About time you were let off your leash” Cearul returned the smile “Indeed brother, hopefully this will go well and I will be let off more often” “You are not taking any chances” chipped in Ardan, “There isn’t much that could have twart the type of force that is gathered here”. Cearul turned his head to the right, not breaking pace “What about a few squiggoths ? That fat ork had a few” quizzed Cearul as he and his companions boarded an awaiting thunderhawk. “A few for dinner !” Joked Cabhan in an attempt to calm Cearul's nerves. Any other time Cearul would have burst out in laughter but all he managed to muster was a chuckle. The door to the Cuir Airde closed and Cearul's master plan was set in motion.

Cearul was deep in thought thinking about alternatives in case anything went awry when his comlink buzzed in his ear, it was Scout Sergeant Turlach “Commander Adair, me and the hounds have found a nice place where we can funnel the greenskins through, sending you the coordinates now.” Cearul gave a sigh of relief “Good job Turlach, rendezvous with Squad Rothar and reel the greenskins into our trap”. The pieces were falling into place, everything was running like clockwork yet Cearul still felt nervous, if I put my trust in my brothers and my sword arm I will be fine thought Cearul reassuring himself as the thunderhawks began to land at the ambush point.

Disembarking from the Cuir Airde Cearul immediately began to survey the surrounding area that Turlach has praised so highly. It was a beach mainly which led into a heavily forested treeline to the north, a large bank of sand which formed some kind of hill to the west, to the south was the raging sea and to the east was a canyon , That is where the greenskins will come from figured Cearul as he began to position his forces. “ I want Squads Neart and Bua on that hill to the west, let their firepower flood the beach with greenskin blood. Squads Fraoch and Mara will be holding the base of the hill, let the orks charge into your lines of bolter fire. Squads Onòir, Trodaithe along with the hounds shall hide in the treeline, beware the trees brothers do not disturb them lest you suffer their wrath, let the orks funnel in and close off their escape. Station the predators between the treeline and the hill, let their autocannons rip the greenskins a new one.” With his orders being issued Cearul and his honour guard took his place in the front line with the two squads of tactical marines. The waiting had begun, there was nought but the sound of the sea crashing upon the shoreline and the howl of the wind for what seemed like an eternity. Suddenly Four purple figures emerged from the canyon on assault bikes, Squad Rothar thought Cearul as he readied himself “Remember brothers let the filth in before we crush them !” Bolter, Heavy Bolter and Auto cannons we all aimed at the maw of the canyon all awaiting the greentide. The orks could be heard before they could be seen, their war cries may have startled some imperial guardsmen but the Emperor's Hounds stood strong, their faith unwavering.

The first of the ork boyz emerged on foot and charged straight at Cearul and the tactical marines. Cearul waited for the orks to stop spilling in so that his forces hidden in the treeline could cut off their escape, but the greenskins just kept on coming and the first few boyz were now getting closer and closer …. “All squads open fire” ordered Cearul as he raised his sword. The orks were lit up into a chorus of dying screams “Squads Onòir and Trodaithe launch your attack now !” Commanded Cearul as 20 astartes soared through the air along with two packs of hounds emerging from the treeline tearing into the greentide’s flank, destroying them. A second wave emerged charging into the assault marines who were now at the opening of the canyon. A massive fat ork was at the center of the mob chuckling, Gorehound realised Cearul. The orks surrounding Gorehound did not began to chant and bang their choppas off the ground, Cearul could make out the name they were chanting, Daisy . The ground itself started to shake as the trees were crushed aside by a massive Squiggoth into the marine’s flank. Before Cearul could issue any orders Scout Sergeant Turlach raced toward the beast on his assault bike. “Turlach what the feth are you doing ?” Demanded Cearul “My duty, order the predators to bring the canyon down on my head when the squiggoth is in position” Cearul instantly knew what Turlach was about to do, make the ultimate sacrifice. Turlach raced towards the massive beast firing the bolters into its thick hide getting its attention. Once it began lumbering towards Turlach he spun towards the canyon with the Squiggoth in tow. Cearul sighed “Order the predators the aim their auto cannons for the top of the canyon and hold your fire”. Turlach made his way into the canyon firing at Gorehound and his boyz who ducked for cover. Gorehound began to run back into the depths of the canyon as the Squiggoth entered the canyon, Cearul turned his head to the predators “Open fire” with a clear reluctance in his tone. The auto cannons boomed and the canyon was blown to pieces with the two walls collapsing in on each other crushing the Squiggoth and the heroic Scout Sergeant Turlach. Cearul looked down at the floor, today he had hoped for a victory, this was not what he imagined it would feel like. Bruised and battered the astartes boarded their transports back to Canis Caelum.
Spoiler:
takes place near Gorehounds camp




Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/05/08 22:34:38


Post by: Sgt. Vanden


The two hunting groups arrived at the hunting site at nightfall. Each scout carried a sniper rifle, Ceasar held his Stalker-pattern bolter to his chest and once again examined it. A pristine weapon, two thousand years old. This relic of the Chapter had been in his possession since he gained captain-hood, and had never missed its mark. His thoughts were interrupted by a large crash, the ground around him seemed to shake. He looked up and saw several trees part way.
“Cassius, do you really think it necessary to bring a Knight on a hunting trip?” Ceasar asked as the Acheron trampled trees and bushes alike.
“Of course it is, and that’s Baron to you.” A voice responded over Ceasars vox.
“A title demands respect. You have to earn that respect from me, for I do not hand it out on a whim.” Ceasars response was cold. He heard no other response from the pilot, and continued on his way down to meet the rest of the group.

Falkon and his armsmen were set up a few hundred metres downhill, so Ceasar and the scouts voxed for the two to meet and brag about their kills later on in the night, which Falkon agreed to.
“How long will you give us Captain?” Ceasar asked through the vox.
“How about three hours? Should be enough time to get a few kills.”
“The one with the least kills buys the other group drinks?”
“Deal. Get ready to pay out Captain.”
“You bloody beat me to it…”
“I aim to please.”
“Aye you do…Good hunting Falkon.”
“And to you Ceasar.” With that, communications were cut, and the hunt began.

About an hour and a half later, which was eight animal kills later, Ceasar heard a booming voice in the distance.
Did I get it?” Ceasar sighed and rubbed his temples with his hand. He kept moving, and eventually he heard nothing but the noises of the wild. He stopped and brought up his bolter. A bipedal beast crouched down and began knawing on grass and berries. He sighted it at sixty metres, and was about to go in for the kill when the creature looked away from Ceasar and ran. Odd. The creature hadn’t seen him, nor could it have smelt him, the wind was going in the opposite direction. Ceasar checked the positioning of his scouts on his visor, but all he saw was static and the occasional blimp. Again, very odd. Ceasar checked his sights once more and found nothing. His prey had escaped. He made his way to where the creature had looked before it had ran off. Nothing, just a few rustled bushes. Somebody had been laying here. Ceasar proceeded more cautiously, and scanned the area with his scope. Ceasar eventually made his way to a clearing, and turned on his vox.
“All scouts, report position.” A minute passed. Two. Then ten. No answer.
“All scouts, report position.” Another minute. Then he heard it. The slightest sound of static. It wasn’t coming from his vox either. Ceasar ran until the sound became clearer. Then he saw Brother Vanus. Dried blood stained his throat and chest. Ceasar examined him for any signs of life. Nothing. He was dead for at least half an hour. Stab wounds to the throat and chest. The blade had pierced his heart, then followed up with a quick cut to the throat. He closed Vanus’s eyes and once again attempted at making contacting his squad.
“All scouts! This is a priority one transmission, reply as soon as you get this!” Ceasar didn’t have time to wait, and so he scrambled around the area for the scouts sniper rifle, which he did not find. He picked up another sound, and he sprinted towards it, purposely making as much noise as he could. The noise continued to move away from Ceasar. Not many things can match the speed of an Astartes, but those that could were dangerous. He followed the noise for several minutes, before he finally lost it in a clearing. He scanned the area. To his left were another swathe of trees, his right, a cliff drop. He made his way to the drop, and gazed over the edge. A several hundred metre drop. Fatal.
He heard the sound again and spun on his heels to face the direction it came from. He brought up his bolter in one fluid moment and finally spotted what had been leading him on the chase. His heart dropped as he recognised the distinct ‘twack’ of a sniper being fired and felt a sharp pain in his chest. He felt himself being flung off the edge of the cliff and closed his eyes.
“My honour is my life.” He began as the distance between him and the ground closed.
“My duty is my fate.” Four hundred and fifty metres.
“My fear is to fail.” Three hundred and fifty.
“My salvation is my reward. “ Two hundred and fifty.
“My craft is death.” One hundred and fifty.
“My pledge is eternal service.” Fifty metres.
“My life, for the Emperor.” Captain Ceasar Xenthes hit the ground.

Spoiler:
WOAH DID NOT SEE THAT COMING NAH UH!

Part 2 of 3. I want to add a little something, but thats still under construction.



Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/05/08 23:24:00


Post by: Sgt_Smudge


Hannibal leaned up against the truck as the listened to the sounds of the jungle around him. The wind blew through the leaves and Hannibal cocked his head to the side, feeling the breeze. He looked to the position of the sun.

It was time.

“Oi! Tha’ wind kicked up a notch. Raise tha’ barrel two more degrees. That ought’a do it.”

Ace grunted and turned a knob on the artillery piece bolted to the truck bed. Taking aim down the sight, he nodded in approval.

Hannibal’s face twisted in a cruel grin.

“Fire.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Shas'vre Ria'rak felt the wind buffet against his cloak. Below him, in a natural clearing in the forest below, was the meeting point. Save for the rotting leaves and small mammals, the clearing was empty. This was meant to be where he would be meeting the ork, Hannibal. The Tau was unsure of his motivations, but trusted the judgement of Shas'El Mirrorstone. She had communed with Skyhunter, and ordered the Shas'vre to meet the ork - with as much caution as possible.

Two score Breachers stood behind him, their pulse blasters at the ready. Two other teams of Stealth Suits, led by Shas'vre Cer'hai also waited behind their commander, ready to provide protection if need be. In the other two Orcas of the contingent, Pathfinders had their markerlights trained on the target zone. Nothing would escape their soaring hunter's eye.
If there was anything to be seen.

Ria'rak turned away from the hatch and looked back to the pilot.

"Comrade, can you take us down? Orcas 2 and 3, stay hovering and provide overwatch."

His dropship spun down, falling like a petal into the glade. Alien creatures scampered away, and their tracks were flattened by the boots of the Tau delegation. Cer'hai's Stealth suits swiftly melded into the edges of the glade, becoming nigh invisible to the naked eye and unprepared scanners. Ria'rak stood behind his circle of Breachers, and examined the area. Even on the ground, the only thing that stood out from the ground was a chewed and bleached pile of Ork skulls. His suspicions were confirmed.

“There is nothing here." Cer'hai said. "What do the orks want to send us to a pile of skulls?”

“Perhaps that is what they wanted to say. A message.”

Cer'hai scoffed “A message? That they can kill their fellow orks too? More likely they told us the wrong coordinates. They are orks after al-”

“Wait." Ria'rak silenced his companion. "Do you hear that?”

The Tau tensed as a shrill whistle sounded through the air.

“Incoming!”

The whistle grew louder as a streak of iron flew down from the sky, plunging into the pile of skulls and sending bone soaring into the air. Ria'rak recovered from the shock quickly, confused by the lack of an explosion. The dust cleared, revealing an iron harpoon halfway buried in the pile of bones.
Ria'rak carefully approached it, his eyes narrowing as he inspected the surface. His eyes fell upon a speaker, and almost as if on cue, it crackled to life.

“ ‘Dis iz Hannibal. Hope you don’t mind me droppin’ in like ‘dis, but I wanted a chance ta’ talk to ya before ya’ decided ta’ light me up wit’ yer’ pretty blue-shootin’ gunz. Now ‘den, who are ya’?”

“I am Shas'vre Ria'rak, speaking on behalf of Sunstrike Cadre. I am here to speak with you about your message. You wanted to make some sort of co-operation agreement.” The last sentence was not as much of a question as it was a statement of fact.

“Yeah. You could put it that’a way.” Hannibal’s voice said over the speakers with a chuckle. “Well ‘den, let’s get started.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Hannibal smiled as he felt the air rush past him as he rode in the truck. Ace zig-zagged though the maze of traps as the two made their way to Iron Skull fortress. The main gate opened up, and an excited call from the boys rose as their boss returned. Dropping down from the truck, Hannibal went straight to his workshop where Guts, Gort, IronGore, and Norrik were already gathered.

“What’s da word boss?” Asked Guts, absent mindedly sharpening a javelin.

“Good. It’s real good, boyz.”

“Dey’ took tha’ deal?”

Hannibal grinned. “Dat. An’ even betta. We’z getting weapons too. Slug throwerz, and ‘deyre givin’ some’a tha real good otha’ ones.”

Norrik’s head rose and a grin grew across his face. He had seen the destructive potential of the Tau weaponry first hand, the idea of using those same weapons was exciting to say the least.

“So what’s tha’ plan boss?” Norrik said, tapping his spear expectantly.

“Gather some’a tha’ boyz, an’ get tha’ shields an’ spears. We’z gunna get tha’ rest’a yer kin.”


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/05/09 17:35:04


Post by: Palleus


Ace sighed as he looked out from Iron Skull’s battlements. It had been a few hours since he and Hannibal had gotten back to the fortress, and the boys were busy chattering about their future mission to round up the last of Nodrod’s spider riders. Spears and shields clattered together as the boys’ excitement grew. Ace sighed. He did not share in the excitement of his green-skinned kin. He was regaled to keeping watch over the fortress, an assignment fraught with boredom. Hannibal had assured him that he was because there needed to be someone he trusted in charge, especially if Skull Eater decided to attack then. Still, that did not lessen the sting of being the one left behind. So, sighing again, Ace rested his elbows on the battlements and gazed at the jungle.

The jungle moved.

At first it was a single tree, whipping from side to side. Then another followed. Then another, and again another until it seemed half of the forest was in a frenzied state. Ace’s eyes widened, and he barked a laugh before rushing down into the fortress.

“Skull Eata’s commin’ boss! His army’s headed ‘dis way!”

The camp fell silent as hundreds of greenskin eyes looked to Hannibal.

“Excellent.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Skull Eater’s truck slowly drove through the jungle as the sound of Hannibal’s traps exploding caused a constant rhythm to his army’s march. He, and many of his higher ranking mobs, were fortunate enough to have the killa kans march in front of them, taking the brunt of the wrath of the traps and angered trees in stride. Those lower on the totem pole were not afforded such luxurious positions, and had to run as fast as possible at the first sign of a sprung trap. The trees claimed many greenskins, but they feared the ill tempered Skull Eater more, and marched on.

Skull Eater glared at his surroundings the whole time. He had tasted bitter defeat at the hands of Hannibal, forced to flee from his own fortress, and then was humiliated again at the hands of the knife-ears. He needed a victory, not just for the morale of his men, but for his own morale as well. His power claw flexed with every passing wish to get his hands around Hannibal’s throat. Skull Eater fortress would be his again.

A shower of shrapnel awoke Skull Eater from his wishful imaginings, as he witnessed a nearby killa kan step on a rocket mine that blasted its foot right off.

“Oh zog it all!” Came the voice of his driver, swerving to avoid the flying foot, and slowing to a stop to survey the damage.

It only took a few moments of inspection for a clear verdict. “Sorry boss. He ain’t gettin’ up anytime soon. We could patch ‘em up if ya’ wanna’ stop fer a litt-“

The mek’s voice was abruptly cut short as Skull Eater plunged his claw deep into the kan’s hull, ripped out the still squirming grot pilot, and tossed the tiny body into a nearby thrashing tree.

“We don’ stop.”

With that, Skull Eater climbed back into his truck, and barked orders to march forwards.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

As Skull Eater’s army cleared the jungle, they came upon the sight of what was once Skull Eater fortress. The fortifications had been transformed, from impressive to awe inspiring. Lines of machine guns, and rocket launchers stood atop tall towers and sturdy walls of armored iron that gleamed in the sunlight.
There was little time to waste, and Skull Eater bellowed a mighty “Waaagh!” as he and his forces charged the fortress with all the speed they could muster, desperate to reach the walls before they were blasted by the fortress’ firepower.

Their footfalls thundered across the field.

No shots responded.

What began as a furious charge became a confused stroll, as Skull Eater’s army walked into an empty fortress by an open front gate.

“Boss, I don’ get it…” Said Skull Eater’s driver, looking around at the empty courtyard “Ya’ fink he legged it when he saw us commin’?”

“Yeah… But ‘den why’d he build it up?” Skull Eater’s eyes narrowed as he looked around. Something about his surroundings was different, something that he could not quite put his finger on.

As the last of his army filed into the fortress, one of the Nobs came up to skull eater. “Hey boss, some of tha’ boyz was ‘finkin a’ goin’ ta’ get some of tha’ grog, if ‘dey left any of it. What’cha ‘fink abou-“

His words were cut short as the main gate snapped shut with a great force. Boys rushed to the gate, and attempted to pry it open, but it refused to move. The boys’ ears perked, and their heads rose upwards as they heard a familiar and haunting sound.

The chorus of machine guns locking their bullets into place.

Skull Eater’s army watched in confused curiosity as the machine guns slowly turned around, and pointed at the mob.

Silence.

Then the bullets flew.

Chaos erupted as the horde ran back and forward, not certain of what action to take as the rain of bullets poured into their ranks, ripping apart the greenskins, and ricocheting off the armored walkers. The once secure fortress walls now formed a pit of death, and the boys climbed over themselves as they tried to reach the guns. A few groups were successful, and managed to climb up to the walls and smash some of the guns before they were riddled with bullets. But the tower guns remained unscathed.

The Iron Horde arose.

Seemingly pouring out of the woodwork, armor-clad boy after armor-clad boy raced towards Skull Eater’s army out from secret rooms and basements hidden in every conceivable place in the fortress. Shield and spear fell against pistol and axe, as the sides exchanged blows. Skull Eater was surrounded, but his kans made the Iron Horde pay dearly for their trickery.

Over the battle racket, Skull Eater bellowed an order to his personal mek. “Give tha’ orda’! Call in tha’ reinforcements!”

Spoiler:
Part one of two.



Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/05/09 21:19:19


Post by: jhe90


Honours earned part two.

“ this is Floki, contact, section 6 “ the mighty thunderwolf growled and snarled into the darkness “kill” floki commanded in his native tongue and the stark harsh light of the twin claws blades lit up the decrepit and damp tunnel, reptilian limbs and carapace fragments flew as the space wolf engaged in a savage battle, a space wolf can see in near pitch black like daylight and soon the battle was over stood alone alongside the nightly wolf and examined a limb, scaly, hard carpace and thick natural bone, little weakness in the reptilian beasts.

Contacts were made all over the site as Lord Storm claw slashed one in twain with the mighty relic wolf claw, “weak alone, but on mass. Bjorn fall back and detonate the roof to slow the damned things down. Hundreds slain, how many thousand remained was unknown as a large section of cleaning crushed dozens swarming after byorn as the waves of heat from the melta bomb caused Ulfrics skin to blister slightly from the confined detonation.

Backing up a hill as they fought using the wolves they were mounted on to keep ahead of the board and lure them to the right spot, the ruined lighthouse, looking out over the mass from the wall. “Look, we are surrounded, now they cannot escape us” laughing as Lord Storm claw decapitated one of the fastest of the reptilian horde, “let them come, let them come! “ roared Lord Storm claw as he prepared to face the wave main body.

The ground shook and everything stopped for a second as a gargantuan squisauth lumbered out the jungle, feral and massive it had been called by the noise and battered aside thick trees and stonework like nothing at all. Soon a chaotic there way fight began as each sought to slay the other two parties. Dodging the giant's foot Conan messages “plan firestorm, bring in the knight”

The battlefield broke into many smaller battles as space wolves dueled the reptilian horde, and both tried to avoid the massive swuigauths rampaging blows crushing those too slow almost beyond recognition. Moria valorn sounded the knights mighty warhorns and charged over the rough ground spanning the cracks, risires and fallen trunks with a well practice ease and began to let loose her avenger gatling cannon sending hundreds of rounds a minute into the emperor's foes. “Lord storm claw, stay left, the right is where I can best tackle the orkoid”

Knight and beast fought on heroically and her sword flashing as the massive powered blade cut deep into the skin and inflicted a savage and deep wound though it was not one sided as roaring in pain it slammed her upper hull and destroyed the heavy stubber, servitor gunner and left a large tusk embedded in the knights body work forcing a sizeable chunk of armour to bend inwards.

Soon the deep wound inflicted began to pay off and it's movement became more sluggish, strength weaken as it lost vital life blood from the gash running deep down its side. Soon she saw her chance and delivered a death blow upon the feral giants heart and smiting it crashing down to the floor as it eyes finally closed for the last time.

Back to base.

“Moria valorn, Lord Ulfric Storm claw requests you attend him at the hall. “ the simple robed and fur clad setf left a note and backed off leaving her to work out what would be going on as she checked her report, her warsuit needed minor repairs and several messages from home had to be handled and replied too later.

The Hall was on a lower floor of the tower, a large solid building that housed commands, officers, senior serfs and many other support staff and troops who called the old ferocerete building home, well not quite the banners and furs quickly reminded her who had first set up home here.

“Moria Valorn High Queen and slayer of the great beast welcome, your service has been noted” the wolf lord was standing and bore a sword, well to human in the space wolf's grip it looked like a dagger at best. “I only did my duty Lord Storm claw, we made a oath and we do not intend to break it” Holding her ground as Amanda had found was the way to react, respectful but confident. “Ha, now we agree on that, and my oath to back your house. Let this symbolise it, a sword I found in the ruins, blade made of adamantium and a handle now bound in the skin of that squigauth near your most mortal blow, balanced perfectly and sharp as the day made despite being down in the damp for maybe centuries or longer. “ reversing the grip expertly and handing her the blade she reached out to take the sword, light, but In the light she now saw a group of ferrasian runes etched into the blade and small oath of loyalty picked out in gold along its scabbard.

The damage was easily being repaired and and yet was not the same suit that she had left with as now she looked up to its shoulder high above to its right. In gold a snarling form of a wolf stood out from the ground and runic patterns in silver decorated her left leg plate telling of her saga and placed with room to expand as the wolves expected this alliance to last. She was beginning to feel as she had earned her title and becoming a skilled war leader as the high queen should be, proving her skills where more than just in the text books and was capable of living up to her family's history, honour and reputation.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/05/09 22:34:39


Post by: Bobthehero


------ Skies above Crion, 3 hours away from the New Pavus target -----

Riley finally received the images from his teams in the city. The building they were going to assault was a simply warehouse, with only two access. This would make breaching the doors too troublesome for that strategy to be worth, no, they'd create their own way in. The two doors would work agaisnt the heretics, however, as Riley only had two sniper teams under his command, and he gave them orders to deploy right away. The team tailoring the Tillers already had confirmed that the building had a basement, it was likely that Garvel would be held there, meaning that reaching him would be tedious, but Riley had confidence in his man ability to take advantage of the situation created by the attack. Riley shook his head and went back to planning the attack. Riley noticed the poor state of the roof and formulated a plan based on this weakness. The Valkyries would form a line and collapse the roof using rockets and heavy bolter shots, with the obstacle removed, the first section would jump inside the building, and secure the area for the second section to drop in and help clear out the warehouse. The plan was dangerous and brutal, the kind of plan the men Riley brought would absolutely love to pull out. Riley sent the images to the pilot.

'' What's that sir? ''

'' Your target, collapse the roof, your bird is last, keep the ramp opened during the air strike, I am not going to tell you how to use your munition the best or which angle to attack from, I'll leave that to you, as long as we have access and we can jump freely, you do your thing ''

'' Works for me, sir ''

Riley turned towards his vox operator.

'' Patch me through with everyone, I'll brief you all right now ''

The other Scion nodded and opened a general channel.

'' You're through, sir ''

'' Alright men, this will be a simple mission, we're going through the roof, '' ride the fireball '' as some of you have be known to call it, my section on the first run, second drops on the other pass, once everyone is in, we clear our the building, locate the access to the basement as fast as possible, except for the major, I want no survivors ''

Everyone acknowledged and the rest of the flight happened with very little of note.


------ 3 hours later -----

As soon as it was obvious that the Valkyries were headed towards this warehouse, the Tillers inside tried to mount up a response, and a few men stormed out with anti aircraft weapons, ready to take out the gunships. The quality of their weapon didn't go unnoticed by the men observing the doors neither did it prevented them from pulling the trigger, showering the men carrying extra ammunition in gore. On the northern door, one brave Tiller picked up the launcher and set his sights to the skies. The sniper smiled and fired at where the rocket was houe in the launcher, the explosion triggering the explosion of the spare rockets, destroying the door, the Tillers and the the anti air weaponry.

While this was taking place, the Valkyries came within range of their target and rockets started to rain on the old roof, demolishing it with little time wasted. The last wooshed over the building, disgorging elite soldiers into the warehouse. The Scions landed in middle of a carnage, some Tillers were spread in pieces all the room, rockets had gone through the roof and left large craters on the floor, it was the kind of mess the stormtroopers excelled at fighting in. When Riley landed, the few Tillers that survived the strike struggled too stand up, two of them had already been executed where they stood. Riley took aim as one of them went for his weapon, the lasbolt went through the traitor neck and left and scorch mark on the wall behind. The rest of his section proceed with the killing of the last survivors, and the room was secured before the Valkyries began their next pass.

The second section landed a few seconds after all that and together the Scions began to secure the rooms surrounding the one they were in.

'' Sir, there's a bunch of unarmed pricks in that room '' one of the Scion had gone ahead and checked a room

'' No survivors, torch e'm ''

Four stormtroopers moved to the door, two of them armed with flamers. The two others opened the door just enough for the muzzles of the flamers to go through. They pressed the trigger for two seconds, filling up the room with promethium. The door was then slammed shut and held close by the two other Scions, until the banging stopped.

'' Room secured, sir! ''

There was a few other rooms, but they were all either empty or had been cleared by the rockets. The Scions looked for a way down, where the Tillers would've been protected from the airstrike.

'' Door's here... BREACHER UP! '' shouted a stormtrooper. The designated breacher came up, krak charges in hand. He set down his bombs on the hinges and ordered everyone back. Riley stood at the end of the group, his auxiliary grenade launcher loaded up with a stun grenade. The breacher shouted, and the door exploded, it was quickly followed up by the grenade, and the Scions stormed the basement. The first operator entering the room was welcomed by a burst of autogun, he fell forward, allowing the second man to answer back with a burst of hotshot lasers, nearly decapitating the Tilller and setting his clothes on fire. The rest of the traitors were still reeling from the assault and they were cut down with little resistance.

'' Room clear, two door and a hatch ''

'' Clear the rooms and drop a few grenades in the hatch ''

The Scion that got shot stood up and shook himself.

'' Y'alright buddy '' asked another masked figure

'' I'll live, bullets never made it past the outter shell of the carapace, they'll need more than a couple of badly aimed shots to down one of us ''

The other men cleared the rooms around this one. The first one was empty, and already fairly damaged, it seemed the Tillers had taken the time to destroy as much intel as possible. The other room had an uncouscious Tiller and Garvel. As the Scion that came in first aimed his hellgun at the traitor, Garvel had to suppress the idea of moving the barrel away from its target, the Tiller was shot where stood. This was followed by the explosion of the grenades.

'' Sir! '' said Garvel as he saw Riley enter the room.

'' Ah... Garvel, everything alright? We were worried 'bout you ''

'' You should know better, sir ''

Another stormtrooper entered the room .

'' Sir the hatch leads to the sewer, its a mes down there and there's no way we can track whoever used it ''

'' The major... noone reported killing him, right? ''

'' No sir, I guess we all know where he went ''

Riley nodded and ordered a last sweep of the building, making sure there were no survivors or anything they could use to further their mission. With that done, he ordered everyone in the Valkyries, they would all go and pick up Mallia team, who had secured the corpse of their comrade.



Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/05/13 16:41:54


Post by: Irishpeacockz


Faolan heard the commotion outside, they had returned from their hunt. No doubt Cearul would come to his quarters to report in, which Faolan was eager to receive. In order to not appear too eager Faolan grabbed a nearby dataslate and sat down behind his desk which was made of oak and had an iron trim along with a pack of snarling hounds defending their humanoid master carved into the front of it. It was bigger than a normal desk to accommodate the user, it was almost a relic of the chapter. This relic, this masterpiece was now littered with reports and maps so much so that throughout entire top of the desk not one patch of oak could be seen. As Faolan pretended to look at it a name caught his eye, Rhodri. The dataslate that Faolan had picked up was a report of their efforts at Site Henry, skim reading his eye caught a few words, Rhodri, Cadfael, power failure, puppy. Faolan’s doors slid open to reveal a grim faced Cearul, Faolan put the dataslate down making a mental note to read the report properly later and focused on Cearul.

“ Why the grim face brother ? Was your hunt successful ?”

“ It was”

“ So I ask again why the long face ?”

Cearul sighed “ We lured the foolish orks into our trap and slaughtered them like I thought we would their blood saturated the sands.”

Faolan interrupted, impatience being one of his many flaws “ Yes, still waiting for the doom and gloom”

“ Gorehound Da Cook emerged with a Squiggoth from a canyon in which we used to funnel the orks in, Scout Sergeant Turlach took it upon himself to lure the beast back into the canyon and made me fire at the canyon, collapsing it on top of him and the Squiggoth”.

Memories of Faolan fighting alongside Turlach in dozens of campaigns flooded through Faolan’s mind before he regained his senses. Faolan could see that the recent memory was still disturbing Cearul, getting up from his chair Faolan wrapped his arm around Cearul’s shoulders and went outside.

“Listen lad Turlach knew what he was doing, that Squiggoth would have done a lot of damage, he saved a lot of lives. He also meant for this to be a lesson.”

Cearul stopped walking and tilted his head “ A lesson ? What lesson ?” anger rising in his tone.

“ The lesson of dealing with losses as a commander, something all commanders go through. Each of us attempts to deal with it in our own way some take to drink, others distance themselves from their troops and the worst commanders don’t deal with it at all and lose it one day” Faolan stopped remembering a particular PDF commander that soiled himself before his death. “I cannot help you here Cearul, you must find how to cope with loss by yourself”. Cearul nodded in acknowledgement. “Now get Cadfael over here to refurbish the second barracks” Cearul’s evening seemed to be full of confusion “What for ?” “I am putting out a call for a Crusade Command Meeting here in Canis Caelum and my quarters will not suffice, I want a long table set up for our guests as well as a feast to be prepared, make this place look presentable” Cearul again nodded and asked one more question before he left “Sir where will the marines currently resting in the second barracks go ?” Faolan shrugged “Either squash them into the other barracks or build a new one, the guest come first”.

With the orders giving Faolan set out to make the call, The leaders of the mighty Imperium would meet at Canis Caelum and he would be ready.
Spoiler:
A small piece to set up the crusade command meeting. Spot the reference if you can



Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/05/13 21:06:17


Post by: EvergreenArcher


[Jorgon, Crion]

The bodies of orks and tyranids littered the ground, but not for long. The ripper swarm of Hive Fleet Cerberus would see to that. An endless tide seeped out of the jungle, bent on consuming any dead corpse it could find. There were few things it could not find with the eye sight from over 1,000 forms. The swarm scuttled across the ground, obliterating all signs of life beneath it, and leaving a trail of barren land. As the tide approached the still living tyranid bio-forms, those units sped away as fast as their limbs carried them. No waste was to be had in the brood. Not one life or organic body.
CONSUME ALL
The rippers did not need to be reminded. This was their sole task, one they were adapted to do. None were around to stop them. Rippers ran up and down bodies, digging through them in all directions, stripping the meat off of the bones and even sometimes chewing through the bones in their eagerness to fulfill their duty. Raveners, orks, nobs, warriors. All were the same to them. None were spared from their insatiable hunger. The mass swept through the camp. By now, the camp was drowning in beasts, all ripping apart as many bodies as possible, bit by bit. Until it was over.
Return
The swarm fled as quickly as it had came. If any were to glance back at the fortress of KoreGog da Bloody, they would find no sign of battle. It had never existed.

[Pike-Ard, Crion]

The reclamation pools of the hive were teeming with biomass. As fast as rippers could throw themselves in, was as fast as it could be pumped out to the Norn-Queen. She sat fat on her throne, gorging herself on thousands of organisms as they perished to feed her. Egg after egg spilled out around her making the room full to the brim. At the far edges, fully grown and fully adapted hormagaunts split from their casings. Termagaunts readied their assortment of ranged weaponry. Raveners slithered next to the new lictors. The swarm was regenerated to 115% of what it came here with.
It was with this, that change would come. No longer would the brood have to fear the leftover orks. No longer would the hive have trouble with Gorgrim. No longer shall the trees gorge themselves upon the hive’s bio-forms without getting hurt in return. The swarm shall cast a shadow so large that the galaxy’s pathetic warp will be SILENT!
LONG LIVE THE HIVE! LONG LIVE THE HIVE!
All of the tyranids of Hive Fleet Cerberus let loose a massive roar. Wild animals scattered in all directions from this huge, terrifying noise. The brood had been reborn, stronger than before, but this was only the beginning.
Long. Live. The. Hive.

Spoiler:
I rolled a major victory on consuming all the bodies of the previous battle. The hive has been resurrected and shall seek revenge on all that have messed with them.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/05/13 21:31:37


Post by: 2BlackJack1


Ta'lok sat cross legged once more, faintly murmuring to himself with closed eyes. Through the darkness, he saw strange visions. He saw fires spreading through forests, a drake dragging itself across the open sky with bony wings, but his journey ended with past kroot hunting some prey. Whenever his kindred appeared in his meditations, they would always do something to acknowledge his presence. These hunters had simply nodded while murmuring "Shaper" that easily carried to Ta'lok, despite their distance, before they would return their focus on their hunt. Ta'lok could almost feel the tall grass brushing past his legs as he walked towards the spirit kroot, and the breeze that ruffled his clothes went unfelt. There were only two senses given to those on a spirit walk; sight and sound. The rest were lost along the journey, making it harder to remain in the ghostly realm for long. Ta'lok was a stone's throw away from his long deceased kindred when everything around him turned gray and dispelled like a mist. Kroot, grass, and air, all were gone in an instant.

Ta'lok felt himself plummet into a free fall. An icy wind pierced through his clothing, and the Shaper would have closed his eyes, but it was too dark to tell if he had already done so or not. After what felt like an eternity, the Shaper found himself standing, alone, in an empty field. It stretched on further than the Kroot's eye could see, but that wasn't what worried Ta'lok. The lack of any color did, however. Never had he gone without proper sight in the visions, as was the custom. Shaking his head, Ta'lok walked forwards, knowing that all would be explained as he ventured forwards.

As the Shaper pushed onwards, thunder rumbled in the distance, and lightning cackled overhead. Soon, a downpour formed, and cascaded over Ta'lok. Burnt houses and corpses formed out of the drizzle, showing recent signs of war and slaughter despite their gray coloring. Ta'lok continued to stride past the murdered people and their ruined homes, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. Of why he was seeing it. The Shaper froze when he heard a deep laughter from underneath the ground itself, and saw buildings slowly sink into the earth, disappearing beneath the soaked grass like they were never there.

Then, what little light Ta'lok used to guide himself was snuffed out, and he heard the scuttling of many claws against hard rock.

With a jolt, Ta'lok came to, composing himself and seeing that his visions were over for the time being. The Shaper coughed, and saw specks of blood splatter on the ground in front of him. "And so," Ta'lok whispered, "comes a new war to Crion."


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/05/17 19:08:17


Post by: TheEyeOfNight


++LUNA EPSILON//HIVE COGGER++

Lamech knew anger, he had known it all his life. He rose with it in the morning, and he wrapped himself in it when he lay down at night. Rage and violence were all that had kept him alive, but they now had to compete with a new feeling: shame. In the guest room of the governor's spire, surrounded by bloody bedsheets and crude medical utensils, Lamech lay in the midst of his failure. His arm, reduced to a covered stump below the elbow, was bandaged and awaiting its replacement. The bionic arm, stripped from some spiteful old Arbiter's corpse, lay on the dresser nearby, to be sewn on once Lamech had recovered enough to heal.

He rose to his feet, groggy with blood loss and pain, resting his hand on a tray of medical tools. He had risen from the dregs and scum of Cogger to the first of the Drachen, the chosen of Lazarus's crusade against the hive. And he had destroyed it all with a single doomed raid. Lazarus would surely never give him command again, and the Flayed Lord would never hear of his name.

Like so many millions before him, he was doomed to obscurity, failure, and the eventual mercy of death.

His fingers closed around a scalpel with a shaking firmness, raising it to eye level. All across the Legion, whispered among the humans and dared among the Astartes, was the tale of the Mark. None knew how the Flayed Lord came to be so, but it was the highest degree of loyalty and sacrifice to willingly flay one's own face in honor of His wounds. That, Lamech swore to himself, would surely earn the Flayed Lord's eyes.

No mortal has ever survived the Mark.

It was known among the Brotherhood: to take the Mark was suicide, none could withstand the pain, horror, and blood that such an offering required. It was reserved for the titans in armor that strode behind them, the superhuman warlords who they worshipped and followed. The Mark was the domain of gods, not of men. He gritted his teeth hard, letting anger and fury steady his hand, wrapping himself in bloodlust. The image of that Eldar swordsman came to mind, and Lamech envisioned bearing him to the ground, stamping a foot into his broken armor, and cutting away the xenos's skin one inch at a time.

With a defiant roar, Lamech brought the scalpel to his cheek and began to cut.



++LUNA EPSILON//MT GORGON++

Lazarus's steps echoed in the cave, resounding off the damp walls and ancient stones. His time on Luna Epsilon had been a relentless tide of noise and fury ever since the first riot in Hive Cogger. Since then, the war in the Hive, the battle at the Maw, and now the two forces closing in on his city had occupied too much of his time. It was quiet here, on Mt. Gorgon, and he savored it while it lasted. The two Drachen he had brought with him stood nervously outside, staring back at the flames and smoke from Hive Cogger. They longed to return to the fight, and they would soon.

He brought no light with him into the cave, leaving the pale blue glow of his mechanical eye to show him the way. He saw the world in eerie shades through that lens: an ancient bionic torn from a techpriest when its manufactorum finally fell to Lazarus's follower. He had borne it for so long that it was difficult to remember a time when he had both his eyes.

* * * *

He was still young, but no longer just another face in the Flayed Lord's horde. He was a champion of the Legion, one who stood with giants and gods, but now he lay on his back, surrounded by a cacophony of madness as his fighters struck back against the xenos ambush. His left eye was gone, a smoldering it of blackened bone and burning flesh marked its passing.
He could feel his skull had cracked under the sniper's bolt, and with the cold chill of defeat, he waited to fade into the demented afterlife.

Why was he not dead?


* * * *

Lazarus shook off the memory, slowing as he followed the decline of the cave towards the center of the mountain. The massive tunnel still bore the cracks and debris from where the dragon had torn its way out, and each step sent a skittering of small stones into the darkness.

He mistook it for a wall at first, such was its mass. The dragon stirred as Lazarus' foot sent a new rivulet of gravel sliding into the cavern chamber, swinging its serpentine head around faster than anything that size should have managed. The beast's eyes snapped open, catching the light from Lazarus's bionic and glinting a menacing azure in the darkness. A deep hiss, beginning in its throat, rose and roared until the terrible noise filled the cavern.

Lazarus stood still, waiting for the hiss to subside before he began to walk slowly forwards. Part of his mind was replaying the distant visions of the dragon blasting free of the mountain, laying waste to the area around it. He should have been afraid, if not terrified beyond reason. But it had been a very long time since something as petty as his own death caused him fear.

* * * *

He was a young man then, barely past childhood, with nothing but a knife in his hand and a hundred others beside him. They ran across the battlefield in a seething tide, screaming and spitting as the guardsmen ahead formed firing lines. Their lasguns dropped a dozen cultists in a wave of burning light, but the rest came on regardless. Lazarus leaped over one corpse, singing a wild chant to the dark gods, and found himself face-to-face with the enemy colonel. He flew at the officer, bearing him to the ground in a frenzy of strikes and frantic grappling before the old man could react. Lazarus' hands found the colonel's throat and he squeezed hard, blotting out the madness around him.

He shouted to the dark gods to give him strength, and they did. He would spend the rest of his life regretting that shout.


* * * *

The dragon's head towered over him, its hot breath dashing his coat back and forth with each rush of air. It was a monolith of power, and as he stood in its shadow, Lazarus understood. He now knew why the gods had led him to Luna Epsilon, why a chance orbital accident had led them to land on the moon instead of Crion itself. He understood why his search for the Amaranth had been fruitless, leaving him stranded at Cogger, in the mountain's shadow. He understood why the Hive burned from without and within, the events that had led to the dragon's release.

He understood why, when his hive was under seige, he felt the urge to return to the mountain. When he spoke, it was with neither anger nor command.

“They made me strong once, too. The gods, the daemons, the spirits beyond the world.” He spread his arms, displaying the scarred chaos star etched into his chest decades ago. “I belong to them now.”

He reached up and placed his hand on the beast's snout. The dragon snorted hard, its eyes blazing, but it did not move. This close, close enough to feel the tension and rage contained in its form, Lazarus could feel the taint of Chaos boiling in its soul.

He didn't smile. But neither did he flee.

“You belong to them too.”



Spoiler:
Pardon the delay. Will update later on the battle's progress, but here's what I have for the moment


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/05/18 00:21:40


Post by: chazz huggins


Lord Governor Tobias Payne looked at the reports on his desk the news was mixed.

Apparently the inquisition has assumed control of outpost Gin one of the military installations on Luna Epsilon. Commander Grayson was requesting permission to remove the inquisitorial forces, Payne replied to him saying that he is to accommodate the inquisition with in reason, and that he is to report any actions they take. However, the men stationed at outpost Gin were but a sliver of the inquistion’s forces, the bulk of the men were laying siege to Cogger Hive. They made no report of how the battle fairs.

The rumors of the inquisition purging entire populations on suspicion of heresy were no longer rumors for Payne as had received reports of inquisition soldiers slaughtering every last refugee that made encampment outside of Drake’s Point. Payne gave no grievance over the loss of his denizens rather he was worried about possible Tiller retaliation.

Speaking of the Tillers the 85th Tempestus Scions had request permission to declare martial law in the city of New Pavus. The city was once a beacon of Crion nationalism now it was a den of separatist scum. Payne would gladly approve the Scions request and decided he would meet with them in person to deliver the news.

House Valorn, Dorn’s Last Wish, the Emperor’s Hounds and the Space Wolves had won some major victories against the local ork rabble, it is said that the arms men of house Valorn slew the fearsome ork warlord Kernal Bloodkill. That ork had plagued the Namrex dunes since the days of Tobias’s great grandfather Maximus, its death was long overdue.

More good news from the east, apparently the orks have been distracted as of late, only a few months ago they were near the gates of Ros Hannoi. Whatever was keeping the orks busy he hoped it would keep them busy for a while. Lord Mayor Maldonado could finally breath a sigh of relief, for now at least.

Tal’lok the governor’s secret mercenary had brought him the head of Francis Beacon. Payne was sickened at the sight of the detached head but his Kroot ally seemed fond of theatrics.

There was no word on the Eldar. That worried Tobias a great deal, he hoped that Captain Taranis would find success on his search and destroy mission.

As Payne finished signing the last of his letters the door to his office opened. A figure entered the room, Tobias’s eldest nephew Rodrick Payne. A man of twenty-nine years Rodrick was the Captain of Kamrian Keep he wore a suit of green carapace armor holding a helm at his side. Rodrick was one of four of Tobias’s nephew’s. The other three nephews were his brother Percival and his cousins Tybalt and Grace the twins. Each of them had prestigious titles and post in the Crionian regular army and were paid a handsome commission. Payne spoke first feigning excitement to see his nephew “Rodrick, I haven’t seen you since the feast, How’s your arm.” Rodrick spoke briskly wishing to skip the usual small talk “It’s healed well uncle. We have a problem.” Tobias saw how unusually grim his nephew’s face was and spoke “What kind of problem.” Rodrick placed the note on his desk and Tobias began to read.

Planetary Governor Tobias Paynne,
This is a broadcast from Sunstrike Cadre, disavowed of the corrupt Tau Empire. We offer no threats, no harm, to you or any of your vassals unless provoked. We simply wish to settle for a time in Indo-Cambria until our path is made clear to us, and then we will leave. If you comply, we will allow an archeological team of yours to investigate a cleansed Blood Dragon ruin, alongside my own Earth Caste scholars, with all right to trinkets beyond our care going to you. Failure to accept our offering of peace will result in one of your holds falling to our technological superiority. You will fall next, and I would see to it that your rival, Horatio Paynne, would take your mantle, and rule with us at his side. If you raise your arm in peace, we will leave you to your work. If you raise your arm in violence, we will hunt you down, and see you destroyed. Mediate on this, Governor.

Shas'O Tash'var Kor'Kauyon Mont'yr Kais Or'es Doran Gal'leath (Commander Skyhunter) –
transcribed from T'au by Gue'vesa'El Vandred.

Tobias remained silent. He was unsure how to proceed, the Tau were still not openly hostile yet he could not allow a xeno force to occupy his world. He could not ally with with the filth of xenos nor could he allow Horatio to gain them as his own. After a few more minutes of silence Rodrick spoke “What are your orders uncle.” Tobias slumped back in his chair and spoke “Who knows of this letter.” Rodrick spoke “You, me and a vox operator.” Tobias spoke “Kill him, we can not allow word to spread. In the mean time Advice Lord Mayor Maldonado that he is on red alert due to suspicious ork activity. If these Tau aim to take Cambria then Ros Hannoi is their first stop. We never received this letter. If we don’t take any action perhaps the Tau won’t either. We will deal with the Tau after we handle the rest of our foes.” Rodrick pounded his fist to his chest and spoke “Your will be done.” The captain turned on his heel and exited the office.

Payne took the letter and placed it into the safe under his desk none would know of this, for now.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/05/18 15:19:15


Post by: 2BlackJack1


"Boss, I don't fink dis will work."

"Just keep quiet an' watch. I'm da boss, so it will work."

Gorgrim gave a quick tug on the rope, and with a nod of satisfaction, he used it to climb on top of Killrod. The warboss let out a burst of laughter, and fired his gun into the air in enthusiasm. "Why are we doin' dis again?" Killrod grumbled, his power shears idly moving through the air.

"Because, last time we sent trukks. Da trukks are blown up now, so what do we do next?" Gorgrim said, punching the top of the deff dread in enthusiasm.

"Get bigga trukks?" Killrod asked.

"No, weze walkin' dere. Dey kill trukks, so we won't bring trukks for dem ta kill. Clever, huh?"

"I don't see you walkin'" Killrod grumbled as he lurched forwards, leading Gorgrim to the head of the ork mob outside their encampment.

Gorgrim flashed his tusks in a grin, "Dats cuz I'm da boss." Using the rope as a reign, the warboss tugged it to the side, and Killrod spun around to face the mob. "Alright, ya gitz," Gorgrim roared, "Dat Cook is goin' down, an' I ain't takin' no for an answer when I tell him to bend over an' kiss my big, green-" Gorgrim's speech was interrupted by an ork howling in pain as it was sheared in half by a Killa Kan. The boss turned to look at the boy, who evidently tried to climb onto the Killa Kan, attempting to repeat Gorgrim's success with Killrod. Gorgrim let out a bother burst of laughter, and shouted "Glotzinga! You'ze got a patient ta fix!" The Warboss turned his head back to his mob, and with a shout of "Let's go get 'em! WAAAAAAGH" he led them forwards, to Gorehound da Cook.

Behind the roaring mob, the ork boy lay on the ground, unsure if being cut in half was worse than a meeting with Glotzinga or not. He got his answer when a large stick clubbed him in the nose, and a shrill voice yelled at him "Let's go! Let's go! We can't fix ya in da dirt, can we? Ize already got just da plan for ya. Howz ya like tank treads?" With that, Glotzinga used a long hooked item to latch onto the orks mouth and dragged him towards his shack.

While the Mad Dok got on with his gory work, Gorgrim was enjoying the sight and sound of his mob as they marched to Gorehound's base. Not even Killrod grumbling about not being a trukk ruined his mood, and he couldn't rid himself of his toothy grin as he looked forwards, trying to make out Gorehound's base with his beady eyes.

Gorgrim laughed as he heard the sound of alarm horns carry over to him, and it only encouraged his boyz to make more noise and raise more alarms. Some even blew their own horns, all of which were looted in the few assaults they had lead on their camp. Able to see individual orks on the ramparts of the base, Gorgrim viciously lashed out with his reins, and Killrod surged forwards, trampling two orks in the process. "Serves 'em right for bein' in front of me," Gorgrim laughed. To his surprise, not a single spear was thrown at them, and the horns had stopped blowing. Some of Gorgrim's band had tried blowing their horns again to get them all to start again, but it was in vain.

Gorgrim shrugged and steered Killrod to the center of the camp, where he saw the fat form of Gorehound laying on a bench next to a bonfire. With a cough, Gorehound sat up, and looked Gorgrim in the eye. "You'ze ain't gonna give up, ain't ya?"

"BadToofs don't give up, you should know dat by now. Now, take a good look, Cook." Gorgrim rumbled. "All my boyz are on da ground, you're on da ground, an' I'm up here. What does dat tell ya?"

Gorehound gave a grunt before answering, "It makes you da boss. Gorgrim, I'm done. Dem zoggin' Emperor's Hounds banged up me boyz good. You'ze da boss, and you'ze gotta be da one ta smash 'em."

Gorgrim burst out in laughter at da Cook. "You can't handle some beakies? Dats what's bangin' dis place up? Zoggin' beakies?" Gorgrim kept laughing at the other boss, but suddenly stopped as a moment of realization dawned upon him. "Beakies got nice loot, real nice loot. Cook, tell me about deze Hounds, I want ta meet 'em."

A malicious smile crept onto Gorehound's face, "Oh, dey would love dat. Now, where do I begin?"

Spoiler:
Finally, Gorehound admitted defeat. Also, the glorified chariot idea is TS', and I absolutely love it.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/05/19 21:54:53


Post by: jhe90


Dragons return

Volund looked on with the other iron priests of the chapter as thunderhawk transporters landed the salvaged relics, first the 12 demios rhino then 3 predator battle tanks of the same age and a pair of ancient land raiders. “Last one, tell the crew to be very careful, ready to move the super heavy mastodon” a while later soon the heavily laden craft came slowly into land bearing the priceless hull of the tank, its crew very relieved to unclamp the monstrous weight. Volund walked forward to the ancient machine of the great crusade, sensing it could still be restored and brought back to life given time. Soon towed into the motor pool and the slow process of checking and tallying the repairs that would need to be done from the smaller demios rhinos to the complex land raiders lastly to the mighty superheavy assault transport. The old rhinos would be first along with the Tanks, it was a design well known and differed little from the mars pattern used by nearly every chapter in the Impirium.

The reinforcements from wolf base quickly arrived at the site henery and brought specialist gear to combat foes found in the tunnels such as melta and flame weapons as none knew what they would find in the old blood dragon ruins. The once small deployment was growing larger and soon Auxiliary forces were scouting the surface with auguar arrays and locate any other entrances in the area.

Soon the first teams entered the gloom of the ruined garages lower levels and storage areas, derelict rooms of supplies and spares lay in ad-hoc piles and mounds that would be investigated later when the site was secured, maybe even the parts needed to bring the mastadon now known from its internal bulkheads artwork as grond the siege breaker. More broken doors and gates followed, more piles of debris and even a natural tunnel cut in mad turns as if something was trying to escape.

“100metres and closing, detecting movement. “ Instantly snap into high alert and beginning of advance clearing the route ahead room by room to guard the flanks for any surprises. At the end they found what they had detected, it was a dreadnought of the blood dragons in faded but still visible paintwork upon the ancient hull. Still serving it boomed out on a crackling vox array “identify yourself or f...eel my anger” as it struggled to arm assault cannon barrels jarring from disrepair and age. “Stand down venerable brother. Loyalist. Space wolves, 9h great company under wolf lord Ulfric Storm claw. “

Thr marine replied hoping the veteran still had the mind to understand what he had said, “now I…”static “recognise your sigil, son of Russ. I require assistance to leave this place “ calming slightly and lowering weapons the iron priest came to the fore and approached. “I am of Mars, let me check your ancient chassis and we shall bring you to the surface brother. You safe brother of the dragon” its leg fused but soon repaired and able to move freely again the group lead the dreadnought to the surface whilst others searched the site clearing it of anything of value or interest to the chapter.

Ground teams found nothing of interest to the site, but also where sure there was nothing else hidden there to. Why they chose to store such valuable armour in such a remote place and so far from the old chapters main base on the planet was entirely unknown however, also why leave a dreadnought, did they plan on return but fate had its way and no blood dragon had returned to relive the brother who guarded the garage or many centuries entirely alone.

Back at the wolf base they had managed to bring the rhino's back to service and soon were being tested on the training runs and there spirits brought back to realize their own capabilities, all turned through as a mighty roar from the garage and the mklb land raider drove out of thr garage to loud howls and hammering of fists on chest plates. It's brother was too far gone but it's parts now carried on bruning the relic to life and to future service once more.

At the back of the room stood Grond, still being worked on as the loud hammering of machines shaped new custom built track links for the massive qaud drives beaten from solid metal ingots to form the massive treads.

Moria and Amanda valorn sat watching the affair from above high off the roof of the control tower as large dust plumes rose and tanks raced, sqauds trained to disembark under veteran grey hunters and long fangs close watch and battle formations of tanks and transports engaged in mock battles and missions in a precise dance of marine and machine no human could match.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/05/22 03:38:14


Post by: Tactical_Spam


Repent. Feel the fires of Redemption

The fire burned, but its light was dim.

Good, now brighter. Fan your righteous anger

The fire burned and now its light was brighter.

You have it now. Become the flame. Purge the unclean.

The fire burned and was blinding. It was flung far from its source, but dissipated mid-flight and its source died along with it. Nu-Alhuraq felt the distain of his inner-self as he quickly attempted to must his flame in vain. He could bring himself to realign his mind. His flame was dead and darkness returned to the room. He sat down cross-legged on the stone floor of the Warpath Furnace. Despite the fact that he was well accustomed to the sweltering heat of the ship's interior, he found himself drenched in sweat. It was both physically and mentally restraining to attempt to learn how to master his psychic power alone. Many times after pushing himself to the breaking point, he heard the voices of the warp call to him. Desperate to not bring more shame to the Chapter, these were shut out quickly. Nu-Alhuraq had no master to teach him the ways of the Librarian, the ways of the Bwatakwa. He had named the psychic discipline of the Arbiters of Truth, the Bwatakwa, after a former battle barge of the Arbiters, the one that became a monument on Kattifrakk II, the Warpath Crucible.

The Bwatakwa revolved around becoming fire, becoming a weapon. Nu-Alhuaq needed to become a weapon, but he could not let himself go, as he discovered was a very easy task when performing the Bwatakwa. He focused his mind around the prospect of fire. The cleansing, purifying, beautifully destructive nature of the flame. This focus was called his Fârne, his furnace. With his Fârne, he could harness his energy into his shield and his sword. He could deflect incoming fire and set his enemy's guns ablaze at the same time. Despite the abilities the Bwatakwa gave him, all of it was useless if he could not harness his Fârne. Without the Fârne, his sense of reality dulled and he became indiscriminate in his actions. Everyone, friend or foe, felt the fires of the Bwatakwa. Should Nu-Alhuraq continue to enact the fiery doom of the Bwatakwa, he would be given the Emperor's Peace before he was lost to the warp forever.

The heavy rocrete door behind him squealed open. Nu-Alhuraq did not turn to address the newcomer out of fear of breaking his Fârne again.

"Brother-Epistolary, the Council of Ishmae demands your presence," the newcomer whispered, his voice trailing into a hiss at "presence." Nu-Alhuraq, not wishing to fully break his Fârne, discharged his pent up energy, which he called the Fawrah, and lit the lines of candles that occupied the many shelves around the room. Nu-Alhuraq stood and turned to face the quiet voice.

"Ahg-ni! How goes your training? I will assume you have learned the Fârne? That is why you went to the Council before I?" the Epistolary said, clapping his Brother on the shoulders. Ahg'ni's face remained its usual, a lifeless expression on one half and a wide smile on the other. Dark Eldar nerve poison had made his face that way, but Nu-Alhuraq never knew which side of the face was paralyzed. "Come Brother, we have much to talk about... Tell me about Crion..."

* * *

Nu-Alhuraq took his place in his throne on the left side on his Chapter Master, Ajax Sylus. Between him and Sylus was Judge Dezmon, Judge of the First Company. On Sylus' right side was Judge Greijer, Judge of the Second Company and Commander of the Fleet. Beyond Judge Greijer was the Head Apothecary, Maealij, and Master of the Forge, Khal. This was the Council of Ishmae.

Judge Hetarr, a newly appointed Judge as of the Arbiters' current crusade, stood before the Council. He had stated he had urgent news that he had to give in person, which effectively halted all operations on Crion. Why he did not relay this information to the Angel, the Arbiters' informant, it was unsure.

"Lord of the Arbiters, myself included, it has come to my attention through my own partaking that the Greenskins on the primary moon of Crion have constructed a blasphemous effigy to their gods, a Gargant. It is in our best interest that we inform Crusade Command immediately before they take the Orbital Elevator and spread to Crion like a plague."

"Informing Crusade Command would be the logical course of action as per the Codex Astartes," Sylus said, stroking his beard. It seemed as if Sylus had aged a hundred years in the course of five. The long, black beard dominated his face and ran down to his chest.

"Does the Crusade Command even have the resources to deal with the threat of a Gargant?" Dezmon inquired of Sylus. Hetarr scoffed quickly then restrained himself as Sylus locked his gaze on the young, arrogant Judge.

"From what Anna- eh erm... from what the Angel has told me, we are ill-equipped to deal with a force of that magnitude."

Judge Hetarr, quick to regain his footing in the debate, struck back at Sylus, "That is why you don't trust a girl with the matters of the Astartes." Sylus was momentarily wounded by Hetarr's words, but made it invisible to the eye. Nu-Alhuraq, on the other hand, saw it quite keenly. "We Astartes, unlike the barbaric Orks, have strategy. We will put maneuver the dim-witted fools then crush them mercilessly."

"You speak like fire, Hetarr, always hungry for destruction," Nu-Alhuraq retorted.

"Who are you to talk about fire, Witch?" Hetarr snapped back, taking a step in Nu-Alhuraq's direction. Nu-Alhuraq stood to face Hetarr, though a full head shorter, and harnessed his Fârne. Molten fire was visible beneath his skin and his eyes shown hotter than Kattifrakk's white sun.

"I will not have this senseless violence on my ship. Both of you stand down or I will blow you out an airlock!" Judge Greijer said, slamming his fist into the arm of his throne. Hetarr backed off slowly as Nu-Alhuraq's Fârne died down until only his hand glowed with fire. Nu-Alhuraq curled his hand into a fist and the light died. He opened his hand and deposited a pile of ash onto the floor of the Council chamber.

"Next time I am referred to as Witch, that will be all that remains of you." Nu-Alhuraq growled quietly, not wishing to draw the attention of the other Council members. Hetarr tapped his Deathmask then put his fingers to his eyes, then pointed to Nu-Alhuraq's. Nu-Alhuraq almost forgot Hetarr was still wearing his Deathmask. He was so accustomed to seeing a perpetual leer on Hetarr's face that the difference between silver and bronze was negligible.

Sylus looked to the floor and rubbed his forehead. The Council members all stared at Hetarr while Hetarr stared at Nu-Alhuraq. Khal was the first to break the silence.

"Motion to suspend Judge Hetarr from combat duties so he may meditate in solitude."

Each Council member nodded their head with the exception of Sylus, whom had crossed the room to one of the great water basins on either side of the Dreadnaught sized doors. He splashed the cool water on his face then hesitantly returned to his throne. Hetarr had removed his Deathmask when Sylus was away, though his expression did not change.

"Judge Hetarr, you are hereby sentenced to meditation in solitude, effective immediately. It should give you time to think about striking out against the Council," Sylus said, waving the Judge away. Hetarr aggressively approached Sylus' throne and Sylus rose to meet him. All the other Council members were out of their thrones as well. Hetarr looked Sylus in the eyes.

"You will regret this, Chapter Master," Hetarr said, his words dripping with hate. He stepped away from the throne then stormed out of the Council chambers. "YOU WILL REGRET THIS!" His words echoed through the chamber.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/05/22 13:07:26


Post by: Sgt_Smudge


Listening Drone #005 - Audio Extract 00/21/40/63
Speakers: Rodrick Paynne (Nephew of Tobias Paynne)
Tobias Paynne (Lord Governor of Crion)


++INITIATING PLAYBACK++

*silence*

What are your orders, uncle?

Who knows of this letter?

You, me, and a vox operator-
Kill him, we cannot allow word to spread. *sigh* In the mean time, advise Lord Mayor Maldonado that he is on red alert due to suspicious ork activity. If these Tau aim to take Cambria then Ros Hannoi is their first stop. We never received this letter. If we don’t take any action perhaps the Tau won’t either. We will deal with the Tau after we handle the rest of our foes.

Your will be done. *door opening, leaving footsteps*

*safe opening*

++EXTRACT ENDS++
Skyhunter gritted his teeth. The holographic image of Sub-Commander Mirrorstone shook her head in sympathy. The Shas'O turned around to face Shadowbrand, the servos in his battlesuit whirring as he did so.
"Good placement of those listening bugs."

She beamed in praise, with a self-contented smile breaking over her grey face. "I wouldn't be sure if they were still operational after the Governor's palace incident. Turns out they are - much to our advantage."

"Indeed." Mirrorstone barked. "So, the Imperial dogs want to ignore us? I say we make them regret that decision."

Shadowbrand faced the base commander. "And risk losing our men in the attacks? We aren't like the Beg'el or Gue - we do not have the men to launch a head on attack, nor enough to sustain a protracted war against them. You heard the Governor. He won't attack unless we attack first."

"And what happens when he deal with his enemies? He'll bring his armies around and destroy us. We may as well strike whilst we can - depose the Governor, put Horatio in his place, and persuade the new Governor to call the other forces to a ceasefire as we move on."

"Would Horatio stand with us? Would he still support us when he is in the lofty seat of power? We risk too much getting involved in their affairs"

"I have specialists that could-"

"Enough!" Skyhunter's voice silenced Shadowbrand and Mirrorstone. He stood, hulked over in his suit. His brow was furrowed in thought. "I will not condone any actions to be made. Mirrorstone - prepare the cadre. I want us ready to repel an ambush if it comes to it. Contact our ork... allies. There may be bad blood between our races, but the crucible of battle forges all chains."
"Understood, Shas'O."
"Is First Recon Cadre still active in Ros Hannoi?" She nodded affirmatively. "Good - instruct Ghostwalk to give us some data on the defences of Ros Hannoi. Their sites of fortification, their combat doctrine, the lot. If possible, sabotage them. That will be all."

The hologram dissipated, the musky farm air swallowing the image of Shas'El Mirrorstone. Skyhunter turned again to Shadowbrand.
"What now, Commander?"

"I'm sending that pig another message. He will respond, and give us an answer, or we will raze his palace to the ground. He seems to have made a fatal flaw with Sunstrike Cadre - one he will live to regret. Send word out to Vandred to ready his cadre, and prepare Taskforce Ultra for battle." The Tau Commander gazed out from the barn window.
"We strike from the Sun."


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/05/22 22:18:47


Post by: Sgt. Vanden


Daniel had heard the shot, but due to the circumstances, he didn’t take much notice of it. It was only until he another shot, he started to search for the rest of his squad. The shot he had heard was not that of a sniper, more like a bolter. It was close too, he presumed 100 or so metres away from his position. As he made his way to the source, another shot rang out, this time fired from a sniper. Daniel picked up his pace. It wasn’t until he heard the grunt that he broke into a sprint. He skid past a tree as a bullet whizzed past his head. He rolled into cover as another bullet hit where he was a second ago. He put his eye to the scope and saw static. He switched on his vox and was again met by static. Vocals it is.
“Scouts, report position and cease fire!” He called out, but no response was returned.
“Here Sergeant…” It came from another nearby tree. Daniel crawled his way to the tree and was greeted by the armless Jakiel.
“By the Emperor Jak, what happened?” Daniel asked as he tried stemming the flow of blood.
“Well, I got shot.” Jakiel said plainly. He was met by a slap over the head.
“Even when you’re bleeding out, you still have time to bloody joke. Typical.” A chunk of the tree was blown to splinters.
“You’re right, it is a bloody joke, and you’re getting it all over your hands.” Another slap.
“That wasn’t even funny. You should be ashamed of yourself recruit.” Daniel finished wrapping up whatever remained of Jakiel’s arm into a tight bundle, which he finished off with a little bow.
“I like the touch Sarg, add a nice touch to it.” Jakiel responded cheerily, which was met by the third and final slap.
“You realise we’re getting shot at you know?” As if on cue, another chunk of the tree the pair were sheltering behind was decimated.
“No, I never would’ve thought.” Jakiel rolled and picked up his sniper rifle with his remaining hand, he leaned it on the tree to fiddle with the sight. “Too much interference, you think whatever is shooting at us is causing it?” Jakiel asked as he removed the sight.
“More than likely. Any word from the others?” Daniel asked as he too removed his scope.
“Nothing. So it’s back to good ‘ol iron sights again?” Jakiel asked as fired two rounds into the darkness shooting back at them. He pulled his head back at just the right time as a bullet whizzed past him. “Whoof, premonition don’t fail me yet!”
“Aye. But we can’t keep this up. I’m low on ammo, You?”
“I’m on six shots, want to make ‘em count?” He asked as he pulled his head back again.
“Sure, you need help running?” Daniel asked as he secured his rifle on his back.
“I lost my arm, not my bloody mind, of course I can run. You’ve seen me run without a leg, you know I’m perfectly capable.” Jakiel readied his rifle.
“Aye, Chaplain Benturas never liked you.”
“You think? He broke my damn leg in four places then told me to run up the Hyum mountains and back.”
“I know, I had to bloody carry you back. Ready to go on my mark?” Daniel asked once more.
“As ready as I ever will be.” Jakiel held his rifle up to his shoulder.
“Great. One, two…Three!” Daniel rose and ran full pelt in the opposite direction. Jakiel rose and shot the rifle one-handed. After every second shot, he turned and ran as fast as he could for a few seconds, then turned back and shot another two times. They had covered about a hundred metres before Jakiel ran out of ammo. “Keep going! You know how to not get shot!”
“Well of course I bloody do, I’ve survived this long!” Jakiel zig-zagged over shrubs and other obstacles as they appeared.
“Sergeant?” They both heard it. Daniel rolled into the cover of another tree and un-holstered his rifle once more.
“Here! Keep your head down, we got hostiles!” Daniel called out as Jakiel followed his Sergeant around the tree. Daniel fired several times into the darkness. “Emperor these things are persistent…” Then the night lit up. Red beams of light shred through the darkness and hurtled at the assailants.
“Took your time Matiel, we almost finished the party without you.” Daniel called out as his eyes adjusted to the near-daylight brightness.
“Manus is dead. As is Vanus.” Matiel said gloomily.
“They will be remembered. The Captain?” Daniel swore he would see them avenged.
“Position unknown, sir. You want to get extracted first, or do you want to talk some more?”
“I’ll go for the extraction first please.”
“I second that!” Jakiel called out over the noise of the volkite weapons.
“Great. Baron, if you please…” Matiel smiled from under his cowl.
“With pleasure.” The giant Knight Archeron let loose a giant gout of flame from its Archeron-pattern flamer. Using the opportunity, the two pinned scouts rose from cover and sprinted the last 50 metres to safety.

Six hours later

“Sir, the sun is up, and we have yet to hear anything from the Captain. Should we-“ Matiel was cut off
“Don’t continue. We look until we find something.” Daniel didn’t look up from searching.
“Yes sir.” Matiel went back to searching the ground.
“Sir! We got something.” Jakiel called out to the other two scouts. They and Falkon’s armsmen had been searching the immediate area for three hours now. It had taken them two hours to be sure of whatever was shooting them had been driven off, and another one to recover the bodies of their brothers. Jakiel led the two to whatever discovery he made. They made their way over to a Cliffside, and Jakiel leant over, picked up a bolter and showed it too Daniel.
“Its…-“ Jakiel started.
“…The Captains…” Daniel finished. “Get me some rope. The only place we haven’t checked yet is down the cliff.” Daniel did not wait for acknowledgement, he was already moving towards Falkon and his group.
“Sergeant, I’m glad to see you back in one piece.” Falkon extended his hand for a handshake.
“I lost two of my best scouts, and my Captain is missing. I am not glad for anything.” Daniel left Falkons hand waiting in the air. “I require some men to follow me down the cliff. We don’t have much rope, and my scouts will be busy searching for any other signs of the Captain or whatever was attacking us. You have five minutes do decide who is coming. Three men only.” Daniel turned and went back to the cliff. Falkon had to lower his hand back down.

Daniel had already secured his rope to a nearby tree. Falkon and another two armsmen approached, a man and a woman.
“We are ready Sergeant.” Falkon said as he too started to secure another rope to the same tree.
“You address me as Lord. Ceasar was nice to mortals, I am not Ceasar. You call me by my rank or name once you gain my respect. Understood, Captain?” Daniel responded gruffly.
“Understood Lord.” Falkon bit his tongue. The sergeant was in pain after the loss of his two scouts, so it was understandable that he was so annoyed. The other two armsmen secured themselves and the four made their way to the cliff.
“Alright, you’ve all done this, I don’t need nor want to baby you all, so get a move on.” With that, Daniel lowered himself off the plateau and plunged the first 50 metres. The three other followed him down, taking ten-twenty metre drops. Daniel continued taking bigger and bigger leaps, eventually reaching the ground minutes before the others. By the time Falkon and his two companions reached the ground, Daniel was already out of sight. Falkon and the two others un-holstered their rifles and scanned the area. With no immediate threats, they went off in search of the sergeant. They started running after they heard a single shot ring out.
“Sergeant?!” Falkon called out as he ran towards the sound.
“Here.” Falkon entered a small grove, and was greeted by the body of a large creature, only it was missing a chunk of its head. Daniel was slumped over a large pile of splinted wood and leaves. As the armsmen made their way over, they saw that it was not in fact, a pile of sticks and leaves, but the body of the Captain. His helmet was still on, he was missing an arm and the majority of the lower part of his torso, which was obviously being gnawed on by the now dead creature.
“I’m sorry…He was a good man…” Falkon said, and he truly meant it. He enjoyed the company of the Captain, he had never known any other Astarte to be so cheery, positive and open to jokes as he.
“He should’ve died in battle, not on a damned hunt.” Daniel pried off the fallen Captain’s helmet. “Centuries of experience, countless battles, all for naught. The chapter cannot lose anymore gene-seed, especially of this calibre. He shall rest in the halls of the dead from now on. May your soul find glory next to our father.” With that, Daniel placed the helmet in the Captains one remaining hand and picked him up. The long trek back to the Hive was a silent one.

Daniel had been sitting in the exact same spot he had been when Ceasar proposed to scare the two front guards. He disassembled his sniper rifle and put it back together again in less than two minutes. In all his years, nothing like this had ever happened, and felt the pain of the Captains loss dearly. Daniel had already informed the Chaplain, who had been eager to speak to Ceasar about the ensuing Eldar threat on Crion, but was lost for words after being told his best friend was assassinated. The sombre silence over the vox was chilling, and after several minutes of nobody having any words to say, Iodius said only one thing.
“The force is redeploying. Get to Crion as soon as you can. We have much to speak about in person.” He did not wait for a reply, and hung up. That call was four hours ago, and Daniel was still ill-prepared. For the first time in his life, he didn’t know what to do.

---Elsewhere---

So it is done?”
“Yes Lord, I saw it with my own eyes.”
Good. And our agent?
“Where he’s meant to be. He awaits only an order.”
Tell him that order will not be coming for a while. We still have much to prepare for.The followers of the Corpse-Emperor will not expect an attack from their own ranks.
“Yes Lord. Is there anything else you wished for?”
No, that is all.
“Thank you Lord.”


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/05/23 01:11:29


Post by: Kharne the Befriender


=====Hive Torcan, Crion=====
The ground shook as the Imperial war machine marched on the city. Hundreds of Guardsmen accompanied by armored elements and Astartes and even a Knight. It was either a glorious or horrifying sight depending on where your allegiances lie. They strode into the city alert with weapons at the ready, Exitar spoke over the vox to the other commanders. “We’ll stop a block into the city and set up forward command, from there we’ll split the groups and carry on.” He received several replies noting the affirmative. Exitar strode at the head of the war party and found a suitable structure, he pointed at it, “This is forward command, all commanders report in.” He walked into the building, scorched and torn by war, but such was the fate of this hive. Captain Matesius and his command squad were the first to arrive, followed by Iodius and Sera Valorn. Exitar threw an object on a table and a map of the Hive appeared before them. “Matesius, take Battlegroup three and head towards the southern end of the Hive.” “Yes, sir.” “Iodius, take Batllegroup two and head to the Northern end of the Hive.” “It will be done.” “I’ll lead Battlegroup one towards the center of the city. Everyone know what they’re doing? Good, dismissed.” It took about 10 minutes for everyone to receive their orders and begin mobilizing.

-----A Couple Hours Later-----

Battlegroup 1
They had been marching about half an hour towards the city center uninterrupted Exitar sat perched atop the Knight Atrapos towards the front of the column, he kept sweeping the buildings. He had noticed more and more bloody displays as they neared the Hive’s reactor. His vox went live and a feminine voice came through, “Having fun up there?” “Shhh. Keep watch on the building on the left, three blocks up.” He jumped off the Knight and joined the other Terminators at the head of the party. Everything seemed calm, then Exitar caught something out of the corner of his eye. He looked to his right but saw nothing, he looked over the building then at the one on his left, there he saw it, dancing shadows. “Harlequin's!” The Imperials readied their weapons and began their marching forward. Several shots glanced off of the Terminators energy field, a couple of shots struck the ground. “Forward brothers! Let them know slaughter only Carcharodons can provide!” The Terminators charged into one of the buildings and began fighting the Eldar hiding there. A Brightlance was stopped by the Knight’s Ion shield and she returned it with a shot from her singularity cannon that collapsed several buildings in its vortex. Exitar ran onto the second floor of a building and jumped onto the Knight, “Sera, get to the reactor core, double time.” Immediately the Knight picked up pace. Sera burst through a wall to the reactor room and began applying supressingfire. Exitar fixed his eyes on a single Eldar at the master control console and lept again from the towering machine. The floor slightly cracked as he landed and began running towards the single Harlequin. It turned in time to have Exitar’s fist pass through its face. The Eldar hung there until Exitar lowered his arm. Exitar was joined by his fellow Carcharodons at the terminal. “Bastards. They tried to overload the reactors.” “Sir, they’re falling back, should we pursue?” “No, let them revel in failure.” Surprisingly they had sustained no casualties, but around 15 injuries, there were about a dozen Eldar corpses the men were able to collect. “Well done brothers. Celebrate the spoils of victory and feast on their corpses.” The Terminators returned to the column adorned in gore and blood, to the disgust of most around.

Battlegroup 2
Iodius marched at the head of his war column with his fellow Astartes, behind them were the Carcharodons and then behind them the Guardsmen with the Vehicles at the rear. They had been marching for an hour with no conflict, a couple buildings and they had been moving cautiously. For the last 15 minutes as the went farther north less and less buildings seemed to be destroyed, the streets seemed cleaner. They eventually got to a part of the city where the Upperhivers resided, they began peering out of windows. It wasn’t long before people began crowding the streets with excitement. The Guard and Astartes were met with a heroes welcome as they were showered with flowers and delicacies. Iodius wasn’t quite pleased with it, but he would rather have this then more dead men.

Battlegroup 3
Matesius and his men rode in a command Chimera towards the middle of the group. The Sternguard of Dorn’s Shield followed in the rear while the Carcharodon’s led in the front. Between them, roughly 50 Guardsmen and multiple vehicles marched through the street. They had been moving for about an hour and a half now, no sign of anything. It was quiet, too quiet. The leading Carcharodon signalled the column to stop, that’s when the first guardsman dropped.
“Get to cover!” Everyone scrambled for what cover they could find in the streets. Shots were fired from multiple windows but never the same one twice. More guardsmen dropped, they began firing at any and all windows in an attempt to suppress the onslaught. The Astartes trained their weapons on buildings but couldn’t see any Eldar, where they had marched like thunder, the Eldar had struck like lightning. Then it stopped, the Imperials kept firing for another minute or so. When all was said and done a squad’s worth of Guardsmen were dead, and not a single Eldar body found. It was a loss.

Spoiler:
I AM ALIVE! Here's the piece from several weeks ago.




Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/05/23 01:31:17


Post by: War Kitten


Guard Intro:
The only good Ork was a dead one.
This was something that every Helldiver learned upon induction into the Regiment, and it was the first, and the most important lesson that they would ever learn. The Elysian 14th Drop Regiment, better known as the Helldivers, had earned a well-deserved reputation over the years for their skill at fighting xenos, most particularly Orks. It was a reputation that they took great pride in, and it was one that they were eager to prove the validity of every chance that they could. While they were perfectly willing to respond to any and all threats to Imperial rule, they took particular pleasure in fighting Orks, and wars against them were always prosecuted with great vigor. As a result of this preference, new recruits in the regiment were always given plenty of extra training in the best ways to fight and kill Orks. That training would soon be put to the test, Colonel Taylor mused as his Valkyrie screamed down towards the surface of the moon below. Several weeks ago a distress signal had been received by Imperial High Command in this sector, and the call for reinforcements for the beleaguered planet had gone out far and wide, eventually finding the Elysian 14th Regiment, who were on training exercises nearby. Upon hearing of the various threats that plagued this world, the regiment had been more than happy to respond to the call to battle.

Taylor was jolted out of his thoughts when the voice of the pilot came in over the intercom saying “5 minutes to the drop zone Colonel, conditions of the drop-site unknown,” “Understood” Colonel Taylor replied, then he turned off the intercom and turned to regard the faces of the troopers who he had chosen to accompany him to claim a landing zone for the regiment. Their chosen drop zone was the Isles of Pratt, located on the first moon of Crion. A mighty Ork Warlord was rumored to have taken up residence somewhere on the moon, a rumor that Taylor fervently hoped was true. If the regiment was able to put that Ork down, it would bring great prestige to their regiment, as well as stop a potential WAAAAAAGH! before it ever picked up any real steam. Then the light above the rear hatch switched from red to green, indicating that they had reached their drop point and that the ramp would soon open. Around him men stood up and began their usual equipment checks, with each man checking the gear of the man in front of him, before he made his own checks. By doing so trust was built between the soldiers and equipment integrity was assured. Just as Taylor finished his check, the ramp began to lower and air rushed into the troop bay. Below the Valkyrie he could see flashes of green as the nimble vehicle zoomed by overhead, and with a great cry he and the Guardsmen around him sprinted forward and leaped out of the Valkyrie. All around him he could see other Valkyries roar by as they dropped their human cargoes. “Let the enemies of the Imperium beware,” Taylor grinned silently “the Emperor’s Helldivers are here.”


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/05/27 19:42:08


Post by: Robin5t


A rather unusually serious meeting, one quite similar to many others that had occurred in the last few days at the base of the Masque of the Blameless Culprit.

“I say no,” Dranc cautioned, “Involving the Imperials to that extent has never gone well in the past and it will not do so now. They will do things their usual way, throw bodies and ammunition at the problem until it stops being a problem. This is a situation that requires finesse.”

“Indeed,” Imryll responded, “That is why I believe we can use them! It is easier to produce finesse when you have someone else to do the heavy lifting for you. They can distract the forces of Chaos while we work in the shadows, as we always have.”

“The forces of Chaos do not fear a strike from the shadows,” Feubryn said mildly, “They fear the champion who stands against them in the light.”

Dranc nodded. “Good, you agree -”

“Which is something we can use,” Feubryn cut him off, “You focus more attention on that which you fear than that which you do not. We will do our best to point the Imperials at the forces of Chaos, and use the distraction they provide to find an opening to carve out victory.”

“Our Craftworld cousins have tried that, many times,” Dranc sighed tiredly, “It usually ends with the death of far too many Eldar lives.”

“Dranc,” Feubryn scoffed, “Do you take me for some Farseer, who can speak only in riddles? I will not leave them guessing. We will obtain information on the forces of Chaos at play here, and we will present this information, quite plainly, to the Imperial forces here. We will go out of our way to avoid the Imperials here as much as possible, otherwise – I have no desire to start a slugging match with the Space Marines when their even more treacherous and deranged cousins may be lurking around the corner, waiting to strike.”

“So… we keep doing what we've been doing, then?” Imryll asked.

“...Yes, I suppose so,” Feubryn admitted, “With the caveat that-”

“Sorry to interrupt,” Fallacy poked her head into the tent, “But we seem to be under attack.”

“Not to worry, we were just about to finish,” Feubryn said idly, “Now then, where was I – wait, what?”



The attack that the Orks had brought to bear would have surprised anyone with it's suddenness and ferocity – even those accustomed to fighting the Orks. So when the forces of Craftworld Iybraesil found themselves struggling to hold back the green tide that suddenly threatened to swallow them whole, it was a rather understandable predicament to be in.

Understandable, but really quite inconvenient.

It started when the forward patrols caught sight of the first vanguards of the Ork force – they skirmished with them at first, but fell back quickly as the main force made itself known - a powerful army made up of many thousands, with crude mechanical contraptions backing them.

The Aspect Warriors of the various shrines were skilled warriors, each one worth many of the green-skinned brutes they faced – but numbers were brought to bear with unusual swiftness for the Orks, and they found themselves overwhelmed. Ork rokkit and shoota fire had gotten unusually lucky and put many of their vehicles out of action, while, at the centre of their camp, Farseer Lilliana and her personal guard fought ferociously to stave off the hordes surrounding them, crackling energy flashing as Orks died by the dozens.

It was not enough.

Fortunately, it bought time for a very different barrage, which was.

Large explosions raked the Ork hordes, blowing large holes in the mob as Voidweavers flew overhead, prismatic cannons flaring as they unleashed their deadly payload into the Waaagh!.

Following them came the Skyweavers, flashing overhead and hurtling toward the Orks' Deff Dreads and Killa Kans – shots from their haywire cannons connected one by one and the mechanical killing machines failed, many even outright exploding.

Then came the Starweavers, dropping the deadliest payload of all – Harlequins.

Feubryn and the main leadership figures of the Masque dropped from a Starweaver in front of Lilliana.

“Farseer,” Feubryn said grandly, “This particular dance seems rather hectic! I hope you do not mind if we cut in?”

“Not at all,” Lilliana nodded tiredly.

“Excellent. Light Troupe, with me,” Feubryn began barking orders, “We attack to the south. Cuddio, as the main bulk of their force is there, you and your Mimes can join us. Imryll, take the Twilight troupe and face them in the West. Dranc, you are to take the Dark Troupe North and hunt down any Orks who have managed to get around the defences and may attempt to encircle us.”

“Do you wish for my forces to take the East?” Lilliana asked.

“No,” Feubryn shook his head, “I wish for your forces to rest and recuperate. Fallacy will take the east.”



The Light Troupe Pistoliers were a literal hail of Shuriken fire, Neuro Disruptor blasts and Fusion beams as they carved a swathe through the Ork horde. Larger Nobs were picked off with precision shots from Neuro Disruptors, while mechanical threats like Killa Kans were either blown away with blasts from Fusion Pistols or blasted from above by Voidweavers and Skyweavers, which continued to circle the battlefield, raining vibrant hell down upon the Ork force. At the centre was Feubryn, hands a blur as he swapped between pistols, reloading and firing as countless Orks fell before him.

The Ork's cause was not helped when, at their back, the mob was becoming even more disorganised due to the daring attacks by Cuddio's mimes who seemed to almost appear from nowhere, kill several of the largest Orks in the mob, and vanish into thin air again. The sudden leadership crisis this caused slowed any possible advance down to a halt, and the disorderly mob was in no position to resist the furious attack by the Light Troupe, their halt soon turning to a panicked retreat over the corpses of hundreds of their fellows.



Meanwhile, in the West, the Orks seemed to turn on each other with savage abandon as Imryll weaved her illusions across the battlefield. Meanwhile, the Twilight Troupe, unlike the bold, front-facing approach favoured by the Light Troupe, were more cautious, making precision attacks in precisely calculated parts of the mob, goading the Orks into advancing in a particular direction. As the main body of the Ork's Western force passed through a particular, narrow stretch of forestry, the Voidweavers and Starweavers flew overhead, raining down a focused barrage which carved huge swathes through the Ork force, breaking it instantly. The surviving Orks, once the calamitous assault was over, began to flee south.



The Northern Orks never got a chance to flee. The shadows seemed to get larger and swallow unwary Orks whole, and the Mob got more and more nervous and jumpy as their comrades slowly began to disappear, one-by-one, until finally, they were set upon by a deadly shadow in the shape of a Reaper. None would make it even as far as the camp.



“They sought to thwart the unwary sort,” Fallacy said quietly, “But as they fought without a thought,” she stepped out into a clearing to face the approaching Ork mob, “They would find their efforts were for nought.”

A blur of prismatic colour fell upon the Orks, and their eastern force soon broke with the others.



The lethality, precision and effectiveness of the Harlequin's counter-attack stunned the Orks, and they never truly recovered. Their main force scattered into the winds as straggling, smaller mobs were hunted down by Harlequin skimmers. Thousands of Orks lay dead upon the field – but their attack was not without cost. Many of the Craftworld Eldar troops whom they had initially caught unaware had fallen, each life lost more precious than a thousand dead Orks. Of Skulleater, the Warboss responsible, there was no sign.

The Eldar allies could do little else but take the period after the battle to lick their many wounds – and consider their next move.

Spoiler:
Major Victory - while the Orks did catastrophic damage to the Craftworld Eldar, the Harlequins managed to roll like a boss and send them packing.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/05/29 19:21:29


Post by: jhe90


“lord storm claw I have studied the maps, old maps and spoke with the Wotan elders and the dreadnought. It is worth a visit to the ruins on the main planet of crion” Vioarr had spent days planning the briefing and in study. “They are gathering a council, rallying crusade officers and preparing for a greater threat, small force I can spare only. Should war come I must answer” Lord Storm claw thought and agreed with his first assessment. “ Few packs at the most, few craft, that I can spare you. “Aye just a few, I shall bring back answers and scions of the 85th on planet and capable of help” “be careful of them Vioarr, they have a past and one some suspect is a dark one. I'd not call on there aid lightly.”

Vioarr surveyed the assembled force, all packs long trusted to him and well known veterans. Grey hunters of the dark wolves and the eager and blood thirsty blood claws of bragis brazen pacing as behind stood the veterans, long fangs of Thorin's thunder slayers, beards long and pale and bearing weapons with a ease only the centuries could bring. The various packs supplies were loaded onto the thunderhawk and troops boarded as Vioarr looked at the tower bearing the great banners and sigils of the company. Placing one gauntlet on his own sigil on the dark ancient armour he earned as wolf priest, each scar and mark a testament to its enduring strength.

From the tower jogged out a veteran wolf scout known as the ferrasian death. “Vioarr, lord wolf priest, permission to join your pack, your going places you need a good sniper” “granted, join the packs and load up”

As the sun rose over the walls gold light made the golden wolves on the red banners shine rose gold in the dawn's first light as the aircraft took off towards the space elevator then down to action, and onto the ruins of the dragon, searched on a island at a centre of a lake.

Sun glinting off the mighty warmachines, sigils reflecting gold, then slowly to gleaming like starlight as the waves below sparkled and glittered off the sea. A fine start to there mission and good Oman's and sagas for the feasting halls of the fang.

The space elevator was a massive marvel of technology as they descended to the planet below , the space so congested with warships as they dropped the many miles to the surface of the world, a green vista of endless Forrest for as far as eyes could see. The doors slowly opened onto the verdant green of the planet. A wild Forrested world covered mostly by the jungles and mighty hardwoods. Launching off the pads they saw the green, the sights and smells flooding the senses with new information.

The site seemed quiet from the historical records and scans showed no obvious signs of camps or enemies in the local area but prudence never hurt and the ferrasian death stalked the Forrest to scout for further intelligence and potentially vital clues. The area was thick with fog off the lake and even the enhanced senses of the wolf scout where where effected as he looked down the snipers scope at at the ruins in the far distance, shrouded by mist at the lakes very centre. The water was too smooth, the fog too thick and everything was unnaturally still, gripping the rifle tight as the wind, the wind never blew here.

Wolf base…

Lord Storm claw stepped aboard his personal thunderhawk the blood eagle after watching vioarr’s force depart for the ruins”let us depart floki, to whatever end this leads us” his mighty thunderolf panting beside him only loyal to the wolf lord fully, “let's hope the other mind there manners, if you fed skoll before we left” . Growling at mention of its name the thunderolf was a Alpha, only a greater alpha could chomand one, wild, untamed and highly intelligent hunters many had underestimated to there death.

To the ruins….

The scouts carefully walked into the ruins, it felt like the ghosts of the past still remained waiting to strike, the fog felt unnatural, the ruins, almost too inviting… “read softly I fear the embers are not entirely cold here” the lead scout voxed to the team as they slowly entered the ruined mass of stone and statues. All of a sudden a scout stepped between a arch and as a stone moved two weather beaten dragon statues ignited jaws alive with flame “feth” the only sound as the scout died in pain. All over defences came to life and turrets and statues of ainciant stone came to life. A rough Stone block became now a turret, rising from a once passive state to now deadly weapon. “ Incoming scout team, hold on. Get to cover now” as they took shelter behind a large fallen wall and pillar.

Booming explosions set off large hidden tanks of promethium and great jets of flame flew out cracks in stone work yet that only disabled some of the defences hidden in this place gunfire from turrets and hidden weaponry tried to counter but the skilled crews aboard the air wing soon where turning the tide against the auto defences. Behind the scouts position a roar of a engine marked the deployment of the vindicator krakens tooth obliterating a bunker in a single shot with its Goliath main demolisher cannon. Rounds and shells bouncing off the siege shields like rain on rock

Landing in behind was the wolf guard Fafnir ducking in behind the vindicator as gunfire still flew above, “timely arrival Fafnir, timely” vioarr remarked as he looked out as the final defences where dismounted. “Aye but a demolisher cannon fixes anything! “ Both laughing as the gunfire died down

Later exploration found the site clear and safe now the final guns where disabled and various ruined chambers and lastly a door, blackened and carved with a dragons scale and teeth in metallic relief. This site, the door they would find far more dangers below and if intact as the gates and turrets a far more interesting and deadly place than the derelict site henery.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/05/30 00:23:38


Post by: Bobthehero


---- Drake's Point, 85th HQ ----

Gallus reviewed the various reports from the teams he had sent in New Pavus, along with these reports, he had gathered data slates with basic information about the city itself.

'' It will take more than the men we have to clear out New Pavus, the corruption runs deep '' he opened '' Open support, Tillers running their things in plain light... we'll have a lot of people to capture and kill ''

Riley nodded '' I've discussed it with Mallia on the way back, we think the area that our men were sent to was probably the worst concentration of Tillers, after a quick recce, we could firebomb the area ''

Castella interjected '' Lets not go about destroying everything quite yet, we don't have the support of the governor in all this, the strike we did already stired a gakstorm and we should thank the Emperor it hasn't rained down on us ''

'' Its a good point, I'll schedule a meeting with the governor, its time we bring him to speed regarding what we're doing and gain his support in all of this ''

'' Sir we don't need that, our troops are more than capable of dealing with this filth, I think my assault has clearly proved that ''

'' Riley, for hell sake! We're talking about a million habitants! We don't have the manpower to search everything, we'll need the PDF, if only to control loyalist population while we hunt the traitors, otherwise the mob will overwhelm us, I know you're not fond of outsiders getting into our business, but I trust you're professionnal enough to see we need help ''

Riley shot a glance at Castella, but kept silent. Gallus facepalmed.

'' One day I'll trust you two are going to get along, in the meanwhile, I will need you two to look like soldiers for the governor ''


---- Governor Room, two days later ----

The Valkyrie ramp lowered itself, revealing the commanding element of the 85th. The guards saluted the officers and lead them to the Governor with little words. Pavus waved at the men as they entered the room, the Scions saluted back and the conversation started.

'' I heard you wish to impose martial law on one of my city to root out traitors, tell me, isn't that prerogative of the Inquisitors? ''

'' My lord, there are no reason to beleive that the Tillers are linked to Chaos in any way, they're mere traitors to your reign and nothing else, we merely want to help you take control of the situation, we have a report on the extent of the influence the Tillers have in New Pavus '' said Gallus

The governor sighted

'' I don't need the report, I am aware of the situation, I simply don't have the men to take care of that with more lethal threats around, but with your support, that might change, but tell me, what was that warehouse demolition business all about? ''

'' We failed to track Horatio Payne, one of our was captured, we rescued him '' answered Castella

'' Ah... yes, cut the head and whatnot... Don't bother with him, I have my own agents on it, it will be over quick. I will also send the men from the Blood Fort to support your troops, they're my own elite, they're also great interrogators and there's about five thousands of e'm, this should be enough to lock down New Pavus, my aides will coordinate the deployement with you, you're all dismissed ''

The Scions saluted the governor and left the palace, with a few of the governor aides in tow.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/05/31 20:36:21


Post by: Palleus


Spoiler:
Part two of two.


The sounds of chaos railed against IronGore’s ears as he climbed out of a trap door. He took a quick look at the surrounding battle, fashioning a rocket onto his tankhammer as his gaze fell onto one of the Kans.

“Wot’cha waitin’ fer, a polite invitation?” Ace said with annoyance as he cranked up the power to his massive gun.

IronGore smiled “An openin’. Mind makin’ one fer me?” He said, motioning to a gathering mob of Skull Eater’s boys pushing hard against the Iron Horde’s assault as they rallied around a Kan that had racked up an impressive death tally. Ace grinned wickedly as he leveled his gun, and IronGore started running towards the mob.

Ace pulled the trigger.

Bright green bursts of energy flew from the barrel, and struck those boys holding the line, ripping them apart in brilliant displays of blood. Those not locked in the melee tried to mount an offense, but the green bursts kept pouring into their ranks without relenting. Soon, IronGore was upon them, and he carved his was though two of the remaining orks before he reached he true target.

The Killa Kan turned to the noise, the angry squeaks of the grot inside were amplified though the hull as he turned to face his foe. IronGore rushed forwards, dodging the massive sharpened instruments of the Kan as he went, looking for an opening. With an annoyed squeak, the Kan made a massive lunge towards IronGore, the crude buzz saw ripped apart his toothed necklace as he barely sidestepped the attack and he snorted in triumph. Grabbing a hold of the Kan’s arm, IronGore pulled, and launched himself towards the Kan’s main body, bringing his tankhammer down. He hit his mark, the rocket striking the Kan’s visor, blasting a shower of shrapnel into the grot pilot’s body. With a long moaning creak, the Kan stopped, and slowly slumped to the ground, and a great cheer rose from the Iron Horde’s lines.

As IronGore stood atop his defeated foe, he called for the boys to attack, and soon that side of the battle was flushed with more boys, attacking Skull Eater’s forces with renewed vigor. IronGore scanned the combat, seeking new targets as he locked a new rocket onto his tankhammer.

“Take cova!” He heard a voice say, nearly drown out by the sudden sound of roaring engines. IronGore ducked down behind the Kan corpse and looked to the sky. Three planes, belching out pillars of flaming smoke from their engines, tore through the air. IronGore only had a moment before the jets fired their guns, sending massive bullets raining down. Iron and bone shattered as the death rain struck the melee. IronGore ducked down further, letting the Kan’s metal frame shield him from the strafing run.

“Ace! Take out tha’ flyers!” Hannibal’s voice sounded over the roar of engines as the trio of jets flew past.

IronGore saw Hannibal streak across the battlefield atop a bike. Several nobs were with him as well, riding on their own bikes, and rushing at breakneck speeds towards the combat as they blasted the Skull Eater orks with massive machine guns bolted to the frames. IronGore took the moment to rally the nearby survivors of the strafing run. They rushed forwards, clashing again with a great impact, and slowly but surely bunching the Skull Eater orks closer and closer together. IronGore made great sweeps with the axe end of his tankhammer, making the most of his time before the next staffing run.

The engines grew louder as the three jets turned and made their way back to the fight, but still, IronGore kept up his attack, hacking away, and praying to Mork that the bullets did not find their way to him.

An explosion shook the field, and the scrapes and clangs of metal striking metal sounded above IronGore’s head before another explosion rocked the ground. He barely had time to look up and see not one, but two jets, now reduced to blazing hulks, plummeting towards the massed brawl.

There was a brief moment of silence as both forces froze in the horror of realization before the brawl was forgotten, and they ran from their certain death.

The hulks struck the ground, skimming across, and carving a great burning and bloody swathe through both ork ranks. IronGore ran with the others, his hulking frame no match for an impact of that magnitude. He felt dust and dirt fly into his back as the hulks scraped closer.

He ran faster.

As the grating sound ground to a halt, IronGore stopped, and surveyed the damage. The two hulks were fused together at the wings, cutting the main plaza of Iron Skull Fortress in half, and bursting through the front wall. Skull Eater’s surviving forces where cut down the middle, one half trapped with the bulk of the Iron Horde, with the other half left to themselves, the ragged hole torn open in the wall providing them an escape route that they gladly took, running from the continuous fire from the remaining remote controlled machine guns. The surviving trapped orks surrendered, dropping their weapons one by one as the Iron Horde cheered.

Over the piles of the dead, they had won.

IronGore looked around the battlefield, his heart swelling with triumph before a sudden realization stopped him cold.

“Oi! Where’z tha’ boss at?”


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *


“Wot’cha waitin’ fer, a polite invitation?” Ace said with annoyance as he cranked up the power to his massive gun.

The sounds gunfire created a grand symphony to Ace’s ears, and he was itching for a chance to add to the music.

“An openin’. Mind makin’ one fer me?” IronGore replied with a smile, motioning to a pack of Skull Eater’s boys, and Kan that were successfully holding the line. Ace gave a wicked grin as he leveled his massive gun, and squeezed the trigger, sending brilliant green shots barreling towards the mass of bodies. They shimmered in the air for a moment before they impacted, blasting the boys apart in brilliant displays of red blood and green arcing energy. Ace gave a great, booming laugh himself as he pumped in more and more firepower, reducing the mob to a squabble as IronGore made his way to the Kan.

Turning his attention elsewhere, Ace went for the stairs, blasting apart each boy that was foolish enough to rush towards him. He called his boys up, shredding all who got in their way, and barked orders for them to man the rocket launchers. Soon the symphony of gunfire was joined with the uneven rhythm of rocket explosions as they focused fire at the kans, toppling them over when the odd shot hit, and crushing some of their own boys as they fell, and flailed in death throes.

It was then that he heard it, a steady sound that grew louder and louder. He looked to the skies, and saw three ramshackle jets billowing giant blooms of fiery smoke out of their engines, each bristling with massive machine guns.

“Take cova!” Ace shouted as the thunder of the engines turned into a roar that threatened to drown out the cacophony of combat. Ace crouched down as the flyers made their strafing run, adding to the symphony with a great crescendo of gunfire. The flyers carved bloody chunks out of the Iron Horde’s lines as they flew overhead.

“Ace! Take out tha’ flyers!” Ace heard Hannibal shout as soon as he rose back up.

“Already on it, boss!” He called back, ordering his boys to turn around and fire the rockets at the planes. The planes dodged and weaved through the rain of rockets. As they turned to make another strafing run, Ace pushed one of the boys out of the way, and aimed the rocket launcher himself. Taking his time, he squinted as he waited for the right moment.

He pulled the trigger, and the rocket screeched towards the plane. The pilot tried to pull out of the way, but it still struck true, hitting an engine pod, and causing a catastrophic explosion. The plane spun out of control, crashing straight into the second jet, and causing its fuel tanks to rupture and explode in turn. The heat and force fused the two hulks together, as they plummeted to the ground. The last jet flew high, pushing full speed as it fled the battle.

The two jets stuck the ground, sweeping across the battlefield and crushing any ork unlucky enough to be underneath them, only stopping when a wing struck a fortress wall, tearing a ragged hole through it. When the dust settled, half of Skull Eater’s army was retreating though the hole, while the other half surrendered. Ace joined in the victory cheers, firing his gun into the air as he celebrated.

The joy of victory ended as he heard IronGore’s voice over the crowd.

“Oi! Where’z tha’ boss at?”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

By the time Hannibal rode out into the battlefield, the combat was already well underway. Gort snorted impatiently as they waited, still under the cover of the fortress walls. His two claw arms twitched with impatience as he stood on the chariot-style platform welded onto his bike.

“Why ain’t we’z goin’ yet?” He said, stopping his foot in an unsteady rhythm.

“Wait.” Hannibal said in a tone that did not leave room for argument. “Listen.”

Soon the roar of three jet airplanes filled the air. They were masters of the sky, flying high above as they spat death. Many of the Iron Horde died in their first pass, and Hannibal knew he could not afford giving them another. Driving out into the open, Hannibal spotted Ace on the wall.

“Ace! Take out tha’ flyers!” He shouted before revving his bike. “Now we’z goin’ in.” He said with a grin, before firing up the bike and plummeting into the fray.

“Gun it, Speedy!” Gort shouted to his driver, one of the space orks that had surrendered during the battle for Skull Eater fortress. The company of nob bikers zoomed forward, blasting their guns full auto into skull eater’s boys before they smashed into the battle line. Gort leapt off of his bike on impact, using the force to vault himself over the first line of boys and plant his boots solidly on a nob’s chest, smashing him into the ground. Gort became a whirlwind of death, raking though the ranks of boys with both claws.

During this chaos, Hannibal drove through the mob, plowing through the boys unlucky enough to not move out of his way, and blazing full throttle towards a pair of thrashing kan. On seeing his approach, the nearest kan turned towards Hannibal, and thrust a giant drill forwards with surprising speed. Hannibal swerved out of the way, holding his claw out and ripping apart the leg of the kan as he swept by. The kan crashed to the ground, flailing with its single leg in a futile attempt to stand and fight, before it became swamped by warriors of the Iron Horde, climbing over the metal monstrosity and jamming their iron spears into the joints of the kan, slowly jamming and stalling it until a boy managed to shove his spear into the viewport, ending the grot’s live with a squeal.

As Hannibal swerved towards the second kan, it let loose four missiles in a single deadly volley towards the speeding mek. Two missiles went wide, the third was easily avoided, but the fourth found its mark. Hannibal threw himself from the bike, rolling on the bloodstained ground, as his bike erupted in a fiery explosion as the rocket’s explosive shrapnel ripped apart the fuel tank.

Rolling to his feet, Hannibal had enough time evaluate his foe before having to dodge out of the way of a razor-sharp claw. Hannibal rolled backwards as the claw embedded itself in the ground. Coming up in a crouch, Hannibal pulled the trigger twice. On the first pull, a single green orb shot out and struck the kan’s rocket launcher arm, making it send out sparks as the arm drooped and became unresponsive. On the second pull, a sharp crack sounded as lines green energy surged from the barrel, and struck Hannibal’s hand.

“Zog it!” Hannibal shouted as he dropped the pistol. The skin on his hand was blistered and blackened. He took a deep breath and gritted his teeth as the Kan ripped its claw from the ground, scattering dirt into the air. Hannibal saw a glint of iron from where the Kan’s claw had struck, and smiled knowingly through the pain.

“Iz’ ‘dat all ya’ got, ya’ git?” He shouted at the can beckoning it forwards with his claw. It answered, rushing forwards and swinging wildly with its claw as it closed the gap towards the taunting mek. Hannibal dove to the side, evading the body of the kan as it, pushed forwards by its own hulking momentum, continued to stagger forwards. Before it could come to a complete stop, the ground groaned before it gave way from under the kan, revealing a large pit trap, covered over by a sheet of iron and dirt.

Hannibal came over to the edge and looked down at the thrashing Kan, the trap had not been intended for the Kan, but it was good to know that it worked for a foe of that size.

“Take cova’!” Hannibal heard over the battle, he turned towards the voice and saw two of the three jets in flames and falling down to the ground.

They were falling straight towards him.

With only a few moments before impact, Hannibal looked to the pit again, and jumped into it.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“Boss! Boss!” Ace shouted as he searched the battlefield, tossing the dead aside. “Why ain’t you helpin’!” he shouted at Gort, who simply sat by, looking smug as the search continued.

“ ‘Cuz, he’s paste by now, Ace. Tha’ planes go ‘em.”

“An’ why you lookin’ so zoggin’ happy ‘bout it?”

“Who ya’ ‘fink fried my hands?” Gort snapped, with a snort.

“Oh yeah,” Ace snapped back. “Well who ya’ ‘fink swapped ‘em with tha’ killy claws?”

“You eva’ try ta’ eat with ‘em? It ain’t easy. I’ll tell ya’ that.”

“Well if ya don’ help findin’ tha’ boss, you’ll jus’ have ‘ta find out jus’ how hard it iz ta’ eat without any teef!”

Gort grumbled to himself as he moved, slowly picking though bodies with a half-hearted effort.

“Found ‘em!” Came Guts’ voice from across the wrecked plaza. Ace along with a group of the Iron Horde boys rushed to Guts’ side, as they pulled a large piece of scrap off of the ground, opening up the pit to the air. Ace peeked down, barely able to see with the setting sun.

Hannibal was at the bottom, sitting squarely on the Kan, which now sported a ripped apart crew compartment. Rope was thrown down to him, and in a few moments, Hannibal was raised to the surface. There, the crowed fell quiet as they looked upon him.

His arm was torn off.

A belt had been tied tightly around the stump, lessening the blood loss, but Hannibal’s skin was beginning to pale. He took a few unsteady breaths as he looked to the crowd before turning to Ace.

“Get my tools.”


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/06/01 01:51:44


Post by: EvergreenArcher


[Jorgan, Crion]

The 5 lictors crept through the jungle, led by the Leaping Terror. They were spread out, searching for any sign of Kort Bloodspitta and his boyz. They had been searching for hours, combing every inch of the jungle surrounding their old encampment. So far, all was quiet.
Find the Prey
Slowly, the sounds of yelling and construction could be heard in the background. The lictors isolated the noise to the north and surrounded it. As the clearing came into view, the noise grew louder. The remaining orks under Kort were trying to make wooden walls to repel the swarm. If you could call them walls. Entire segments of it were waving in the wind. They could collapse at any moment! With this knowledge, the brood was almost ready. One more thing needed to be complete.

[Pike-ard, Crion]

Die
The brood complied. A pack of hormagaunts and termagaunts leapt into the reclamation pools. Biomass was needed to make a new bio-form. One that would destroy all walls in its path. One that would repel gunfire as if it were nothing. The Norn-Queen shuddered as she generated the massive form out of the deceased ‘gaunts. It easily towered over her as it grew and grew. As the giant carnifex broke out of its egg, it let loose a roar that shook the entire space hulk fragment. Now, it was time to go to war.

[Jorgan, Crion]

The ground shuddered as the carnifex stomped across the foliage. The swarm was making good pace, and the orks would be consumed before nightfall. They had almost made it to the “fortress.”
Kill Them All
Skullbasha’ was on watch duty. He wanted ta go bash in some of da bug’s skulls, but instead, he had ta watch da wall! It wasn’t even a good one! As he walked around, he ran into Madrippa.

“Oi ya Git! Get Ova ‘ere!” He said.

Madrippa walked over to Skullbasha’.

“Ey, I can’t wait ta bash in some ‘eads,” Skullbasha’ said.

“I wish we’z could do et now!” Madrippa replied.

“Why can’t no one try an’ krump us!” Skullbasha’ shouted.

At that moment, the ground of the fortress began to tremble.

“Oi, whatz goin’ on?” Madrippa asked.

That is when the mass of chitin descended upon the orks. The carnifex barreled right into the wall and it crumpled beneath its massive weight. Orks were crushed beneath its feet. Big choppas bounced off of a million pounds of armor. The carnifex could probably take on the place by itself!
Swarm. Overwhelm. Obliterate.
The swarm’s assault was ruthless. The orks charged to meet them and were chopped to bits. Hormagaunts leapt in and eviscerated any nearby orks. Termagaunts unleashed fleshborer beatles upon whole groups, who went down writhing and convulsing. Warriors hacked nobs to pieces or unleashed lethal volleys of ranged weaponry. It was completely one sided. A few orks were in the center, trying their hardest to take a few ‘gaunts with them. They were led by Kort. That would be ended.
Threat Sighted. Reinforce. Eliminate.
The Great One charged in to face the enemy. It swatted one ork into the waiting mass of eager tyranids with a talon while firing a horde of lethal shards into a nob picking its big choppa up from the body of a termagaunt. Kort turned around from killing a warrior to see 2 tons of pure muscle and armor.

“You’z a big bug, I’ll give ya dat!” Kort shouted.

The Great One sent its scything talons from above in the hope of finishing this quickly. It seemed that would not be the case. As it sent the spikes of death downwards, Kort leapt aside much faster than anticipated and swiped at The Great One. It was prepared for this, and deflected with the venom cannon. The Great One went for another swing, but could not seem to hit him. This time though, Kort hit The Great One with his big choppa. The Great One was stunned for a second. Its armor had a dent in it! How dare such a primitive and insignificant creature harm such a noble bio-form in such a way!
Exterminate.
The fair battle that had been going on between Kort and The Great One was over. The few orks and nobs remaining were torn apart and trampled as the mass went feral in the sole goal of getting to Kort as fast as possible. One large nob feebly attempted to throw off the three hormagaunts clinging to him before he was brought low and devoured. Kort was only able to turn around and fend off a few blows before he was engulfed within the swarm. No one touches The Great One and gets away with it. Only one has lived to tell the tale so far.

As the last lines of resistance disintegrated, the brood sent in its rippers to finish with this place. All biomass was collected from the battle, including the walls as the carnifex had been chewing on them after its job had been complete.
Return. Bring The Biomass. Create New Bio-forms.
The forces did as they were told.

[Pike-ard, Crion]

All the biomass was reclaimed, all the bio-forms shiny and new. The carnifex patrolled with the second one created, and the forces used to make the first were remade. The hive was strong. The hive was ready for the next kill. The hive would destroy. The hive would consume.

Long Live The Hive

Spoiler:
So, I rolled another major victory, wiping out the rest of the orks near me and gaining a few walking tanks that like to nibble on walls. This all took place at Pike-ard and Jorgan on Crion.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/06/01 03:19:16


Post by: 2BlackJack1


Jeramin wiped the sweat off of his brow yet another time, and drove his shovel into the ground, letting it stick into the air while he caught his breath. The boy, who was no more than in his early twenties, looked up when he heard the distant roar of an engine. It wasn't unusual for some of the ranchers to travel to Canhock for supplies, or to sell whatever produce they had left from the planetary tithes. But this, Jeramin decided, did not sound like any of the vehicles the ranchers had. Nor did it sound like any of the the troops' vehicles when they came out to deal with the monsters of the West if they got too out of hand.

Any last sense of doubt that these were not regular traders or soldiers was cast from Jeramin's mind as he heard the rattle of gunfire and the screams of his neighbors. Jeramin felt himself running towards the gunfire, and his worst fears were shown before his eyes. Dozens of the greenskinned monsters were spilling out of their crude vehicles, burning buildings and mowing down the citizens of Canhock, Jeramin's neighbors, with a savage glee. Seeing his friends, people he had known his entire life, torn to shreds in front of him by the greenskins' guns , or ran over by the roaring mob of trukks, Jeramin felt himself keel over and empty out the contents of his stomach onto the road.

Staggering back, Jeramin ducked behind a building, and was hard pressed to not curl up and hope that the beasts would just go away. "This can't be happening." He whispered. Jeramin shakily got to his feet, and tried to ignore the sounds of the orks ruining his home. The farmer knew he had to get home, that maybe he could use his dad's rifle and escape. There wasn't a hive city too far away, he reasoned, and they could send help. Then, there was the holy astartes, the Emperor's own sons, surely they would save him from this nightmare.

"They wouldn't let Canhock fall. Why would they?" He whimpered, and started to head to his house. More often than not, Jeramin would find himself hiding from the orks, but slowly made his way towards his home, which was still untouched by the xenos' war machines.

Thinking it was a sign of the Emperor, Jeramin sprinted to his home, and bolted the door shut behind him as he entered it. Catching his breath, the young farmer flew through his house and flung open a side closet, and drew the rifle inside. Well worn, and used for putting Grox down rather than fighting, it wasn't much to work with, but Jeramin was determined to make it work. Even with his new source of hope, the man had to cover his mouth to stifle his shout of fear when he heard his door crash inwards. Jeramin felt a cold sense of certainty wash over him, and he took a single step towards the sound, but stood still when the heard the sound of metal boots crunching against his wooden floors.

"Come out, little humie. I know youz in here." A low voice growled, and Jeramin barely understood it, yet was even more terrified that he could at all. Jeramin gave a shout of fear when a sudden volley of gunfire tore through his home, shattering windows and sending fragments of his walls and furniture everywhere. Seeing his home in tatters, a building he had known all his life, Jeramin's dread turned into disbelief, and from there it turned into a cold hatred. Before he even realized it, Jeramin was moving forwards, and fired his rifle as soon as he turned the corner.

Even as the rifle bucked in his hands, Jeramin saw that he had thrown his life away. The monster was easily twice as tall as he was, and had only boomed out laughter when Jeramin shot him. Before he could react, the ork sent him backwards with a swipe from his hand. Jeramin's head cracked against the floor, and his vision was reduced to a blur. A groan escaped his lips, and he sluggishly raised his hands to his head, dropping the rifle in the process.

"An' I thought we waz havin' fun" the beast growled, and Jeramin felt a clawed hand wrap around his ankle. The farmer felt himself getting dragged across the floor, and all turned black.

Gorgrim flashed his tusks in a grin as he looked at the ruins of Canhock. Any survivors were being rounded up and shoved into the trukks, and the same went for anything that could pass as loot. All in all, the warboss knew he would be able to make anything short of a stompa out of it. "Maybe some warkoptas," he mused, "or a couple more deff dreads."

Gorgrim's contemplating was cut off when Gorehound approached, his face coated in blood, the only remains of the humans he had caught. "Boss, we saw a beakie. Big an' grey, he rode a bike away. We tried shootin' at him, but he was long gone." Gorehound looked at Gorgrim, trying to see any signs of a reaction from the boss. To his surprise, Gorgrim laughed.

"Dat means we'll be gettin' some neighbors, an' beakies ta boot. Now, round up da rest of da gear, an' grab more humiez. I'm gonna need more of 'em to help wif all dis loot." Gorgrim laughed again, and made his way back to his caravan of trukks.

++Two days after the razing of Canhock++

Gorgrim sat on top of a pile of metal, watching boyz and grots move with undeniable purpose. Vehicles were being repaired, new ones built, and red paint was slapped on every single one. So far, the only sign of Imperial retaliation was the whining of engines in the distance, signaling the arrival of a large force landing on Luna Maximus. "Probably more humiez" Gorgrim muttered, "Da Beakies woulda landed here, or been more sneekee."

The warboss shrugged his shoulders, and looked back down at his greenskins at work. Grizby appeared from underneath a pile of scrap, grinning wickedly at a chunk of sharpened metal in his hands. "Boss," he whispered, "some Mek wants ta talk to ya. He gave me dis," as the grot spoke he fished out a paper with various designs on it, "It's a tellyporta. Build it, step on da green ringy part, and zzzap! You'ze in his base."

Gorgrim smiled, and grabbed the paper from Grizby's hands. "Maybe dis git will be worth my time den. He seems cunnin', if he can make somefink like dis." Gorgrim hopped off of his mound of loot, and made his way to his Meks' huts. Whatever schemes they were doing would have to wait; Gorgrim had something much more important for them to do.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/06/01 09:23:19


Post by: chazz huggins


Tobias Paynne.

We demand answer. Give us a solid verdict on your stance with Sunstrike Cadre, and we will cease to contact you. Your choices are as thus: Ally with us, and allow us protection as we absolve our cause. Leave us to our own devices until we leave, and we shall not encroach upon your land or interfere with your plans. Or go to war, and invite destruction on you and your forces.

Failure to respond within twelve Rot'aa will be met as an act of complacency and hostility. You have been warned, Lord Governor. Respond to us, with the seal of your verification, or we will destroy your throne of silence. We do not desire conflict, but we need to know where we stand.

Shas'O Tash'var Kor'Kauyon Mont'yr Kais Or'es Doran Gal'leath (Commander Skyhunter)transcribed from T'au by Gue'vesa'El Vandred


Governor Payne snarled at the letter. This filthy xeno thought himself master of Crion laughable. Those Tau were cut off from the rest of their empire they would be destroyed should the full forces of Crion come to bare upon them. They were but gnats in the governor’s mind, however he had not a free hand to swat them. A new front would be too costly and time consuming for the governor, his best option was still to pretend they did not exist. However, the Tau made it rather clear they would not be ignored. It was at this point the governor’s solution came through the door.

Tal’ok entered the governor’s office removing the hood he wore that disguised his Avian features. The Kroot approached the governor’s desk and picked up one of the bauble’s he had placed upon it. The kroot spoke “You have another Tiller you need dead?” Payne arose and spoke “No, not this time I require your council.” Tal’ok laughed “I should warn you my consultation fee is outrageous, don’t you have generals and ministers for this sort of thing.” Payne shook his head “No, I require you… Tell me as a Kroot you must be familiar with the Tau.” Tal’ok set down the trinket and spoke “I never served under the Tau, but I’ve taken dozens of contracts on the frontier of the empire. Why do you ask.” Payne removed the letter from his safe and showed him the second letter.

Tal’ok read the letters carefully. Tal’ok had a questioning look on his face. Payne opened his mouth to speak but Tal’ok raised his hand at him. The bounty hunter gripped his knife and hurled it at the corner of the room. It struck something and the machinery fell to the carpeted floor. Payne’s eyes widened as he asked “What in the Emperor’s name is that.” Tal’ok fetched his knife and idled through the wreckage “Tau listening device, standard stealth cadre procedure when dealing with a possibly hostile government.” Payne slumped back in his seat and rubed his temples the man looked over to Tal’ok and spoke “You clearly know the Tau better than I, how should I proceed. I can’t publically declare them my allies nor can I afford a new front.” Tal’ok spoke “They don’t need an alliance they want lodging. Let them stay so long as they promise to move on as soon as possible and not to advertise their presence.” Payne asked “You think they would agree to that?” Tal’ok nodded “The Tau are fond of their alliances and are unlikely to break them. With some careful negotiations we can keep the Tau off your back and hopefully out of sight. I think I should be the one to approach the Tau with the terms of the deal” Payne raised an eyebrow “You? Take no offense but I never took you for a negotiator.” Tal’ok grinned “I’m a great many things governor… for the right price. The Tau would appreciate a familiar face.” Payne folded his hands “If you can keep the Tau out of my crusade I will see you rewarded hansomly.” Tal’ok turned to leave the room and place his hood over his head "Consider it done"


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/06/04 17:06:33


Post by: Irishpeacockz


Steam rushed out the door as Faolan emerged from the wash room, his hair had been washed and combed with his beard getting a similar treatment and both were now drying, they would be braided later. It was not often that Faolan got all cleaned up but since Faolan had called the Central Crusade Command Meeting he thought he would put some effort in to be presentable. He strided towards his chambers in the adjacent room where a freshly pressed silk robe was laid out on his bed. Faolan examined the robe before putting it on, two snarling hounds on their hind legs decorated the shoulders while the chapter symbol was embroidered on the chest over his heart, simple yet elegant. Putting the robe on Faolan headed outside to run a final sweep over the guests accommodation and the meeting hall itself. As the doors to his office slid open Faolan witnessed a savage battle in the sky, a thick groggy mist had captured the Isles of Pratt and the sun’s rays desperately tried to pierce the thick veil that now surrounded Canis Caelum. Faolan took a moment to take it all in, listening to the chirping of the native birds to this moon, peaceful thought Faolan, and considering what happened at the Banquet it better stay that way. Scanners had been set up and Faolan had doubled the patrols around the isle. Thunderhawks were prepped, ready to sink any unauthorised craft approaching the isle.It was early and while the Emperor’s Hounds keep constant vigilance Canis Caelum was quieter than usual.

Faolan entered the recently converted barracks which was now a big hall, a polished oak table sat in the center with a fine silk cloth thrown over, much like the stuff that Faolan’s robe was made from. oak chairs were placed around the table along with cutlery for when the food is served. Four big fireplaces dotted the room but have not been lit yet as the weather outside was quite warm. Faolan gave the room one last look over before heading for the door, as he was about to emerge from the hall the doors slid open to Emyr Glaw blocking Faolan’s path.

“Ah Emyr just the marine I was looking for”
“Sir, how is the hall looking ?”
“It is great, well for our taste anyway I cannot speak for our brothers in arms. Enough of that, Emyr I grant you the task of escorting our esteemed guests to their quarters until the meeting commences, deploy to the landing pads at once and welcome our first guest with a smile”
“It will be done Alpha”

Satisfied Faolan made his way back to his quarters to braid his mane and to apply any finishing touches needed to make him look presentable. As Faolan sidestepped a previous hole now filled with filthy rainwater Rhodri emerged from the adjacent kennels, dataslate in hand, grinning from ear to ear.

“Faolan Gall just the man I wanted to bump into”
“Yes Rhodri was is it ?” Replied Faolan coldy
“I will not keep you long, I know you are a very busy bee meeting all your friends just thought I would let you know about our latest addition to the kennels, Keon, a mere pup but he is already stronger than most of the dogs in there” praised Rhodri as he point back into the Kennels.
“Keon eh ? Means young warrior in our native tongue how ………… fitting”
“Pretty clever is it not ? Picked it myself”
“As long as you do not get too clever” growled Faolan “I will see this pup myself at a later time, farewell Houndmaster”
“Farewell my Alpha”

Taking a mental note to visit the kennels when he got the chance Faolan navigated his way around the minefield of puddles that barred his path to his chambers. Upon reaching the door to his quarters Faolan called over a serf, “Put something down to cover the mud and do it quickly, our guests will arrive soon” with the order given Faolan went to finish braiding his hair and beard and to prepare himself for the politics to come.

Emyr shifted uncomfortably next to the stairs that led up to the landing pad, along with Emyr a host of serfs and servitors awaited the host of aircrafts that would be landing at Canis Caelum. While awaiting the first delegate Emyr decided to dwell on his current situation,he was trying to figure out why in the name of the Emperor did Faolan charge him with this task. Emyr was the least talkative out of all his squadmates in Honour Guard Madra, he did not fancy the idea of socialising and found it awkward. “Why didn’t he pick Pryce for this bloody job ?” Emyr wondered to himself “He is the one who loves talking, he never shuts up.” The black dot that was quickly approaching along with the commotion caused by the host of servitors and serfs as they began to run around and make final checks to make sure the landing pad was configured correctly and that everything ran smoothly. All of this knocked Emyr out of his deep thinking and made him shift again, making sure he was presentable and checking the dataslate to view the list of names and or forces that would be attending.

Looking up the black dot that was there a moment ago was now a mighty teal thunderhawk gunship trimmed with golden skulls and imperial iconography. Quickly scrolling through his dataslate Emyr identified the craft belonging to the Dorn’s Wish chapter of Space Marines. Three marines emerged from the craft, one marine wore black plate and was flanked by two other marines. He was slightly taller than his brothers and was clearly the leader out of the trio. He donned a skull shaped helm which unnerved even Emyr slightly, a teal oval trimmed with gold with a skull and winged insignia, his chapter’s sigil. The trio approached Emyr, “Chaplain Iodius I presume ?” “Indeed, with whom am I speaking to ?” “Apologies Emyr Glaw part of Honour Guard Madra, if you will follow me to your room that we have allocated for you” “Very well”. “A man of few words” thought Emyr, “suits me just fine”. The walk to the guest rooms was taken in silence with both marines being men of few words. Emyr opened the door to a logged cabin which opened into a corridor with a fireplace at the opposite end with doors for the various guests to the left and right that ran along down the corridor, a sigil was carved into the doors indicating which room belonged to whom, Emyr proceeded to the third door on the right where an oval with a skull and winged insignia was carved “Your room is here, a serf will be sent when the Meeting will begin farewell brother” “Farewell Emyr Glaw and thank you for the escort” nodding Emyr left Iodius and made his way back to the landing pad to greet his next guest.

Emyr arrived just in time to see a thunderhawk land, Emyr needn’t look at the dataslate to know that it was in the fashion of the Space Wolves. Two large figures strode out of the aircraft which Emyr identified as Ulfric Stormclaw with some facial scars and his thick, heavy dark beard which had some grey streaks in it. The old wolf also donned a relic wolf claw on one arm and had long fangs befitting a Space Wolf of his age. The slightly shorter marine, Floki, also had a dark beard yet it was shorter than than his commanders and tribal fenrisian tattoos could be seen beneath said beard. His fangs were long but not as long as ulfric’s and he armed himself with two wolf claws. As the two marines made their way down the street ramp towards Emyr two slender figures emerged behind them, Emyr couldn’t seem to take his eyes off the pair as they elegantly strided down the ramp behind the astartes. Emyr quickly studied the dataslate to figure out they were from House Valorn, a knight house. High Queen Moira was draped in the colours of her house in a loose, silk dress with her house’s sigil embroidered on her chest, she was unarmed. Her Queensward and sister, Amanda was armed with a broadsword hung across her back with ornate copper armor in which her house symbol was engraved. “Lord Stormclaw, Loki, Amanda and High Queen Moira welcome to Canis Caelum, my name is Emyr Glaw and I will be the one showing you to your rooms” Emyr managed to crack a smile “ I think i’m getting the hang of this” “Greetings Emyr !” boomed Ulfric “Is there any ale in said rooms ?” “That can be arranged my lord” Ulfric cracked a smile “Hah ! I like you already” just as they were about to depart a massive black thunderwolf prowled out of the thunderhawk. Emyr while used to the hounds in his own chapter was still slightly unnerved by the sheer size of the beast. “Will you be bringing your wolf with you into the room ?” “His name is Skol and Sure wouldn't want to frighten your little dogs in the kennels now would we ?” teased Floki “Right then, this way” as they made their way to the guest room Ulfric Stormclaw begged a question “So then I have to ask” Emyr felt like he already knew the question before it was asked “What is it ?” “Where is your beard ? I mean you are the only one who doesn't’ have one” “A common question, my beard is patchy and not to mention itchy” Emyr shrugged “I prefer to be clean shaven” “Good choice” flirted Amanda which got her a glare off High Queen Moira. Looking to escape the awaiting awkward silence Emyr quickly shuffled into the logged cabin and proceeded to the sixth room on the right, which had a wolf engraved on it “Space Wolves are in here while House Valorn are across the hallway” “Do not forget the ale brother” Emyr nodding departed the cabin but not before getting a glance off Amanda which made him blush. “I’ll have to keep my eye on that one” noted Emyr as he once again made his way back to the Landing zone.

When Emyr returned no new delegates had arrived which gave Emyr a time to think about the whole Amanda situation. Did she fancy him ? Could this possible relationship ever flourish ? Emyr shook such foolish thoughts from his mind. No, of course it couldn't. Another black dot was approaching Canis Caelum, Emyr readied his trusty dataslate eager to identify the craft. He frowned when he identified it as a valkyrie aircraft. It was not the Tempestus Scions than who is it ? Quickly scrolling through the list of names and sigils Emyr found them at the bottom of the list in the updated section, the 2nd Helsreach “Gorgons”, an Imperial Guard Regiment that had recently arrived to the sector. Five figures disembarked from the craft with one seemly leading the others which Emyr presumed to be Lord General Henri McFallus, he had a biotic eye and a majestic moustache, a power sabre hung from his belt and had a wrist mounted bolt gun, MacFallus and his comrades were all donned in black “Lord General McFallus I presume ?” “Aye and who might you be ?” Emyr realised McFallus’ accent was not so different from the native Aspen tongue “Emyr Glaw part of Faolan’s Gall Honour guard I will be the one escorting you to your temporary chambers until the meeting starts” “Very well, follow me men” commanded the Lord General as he gestured with his power sabre in Emyr’s direction. As they walked to the logged cabin where several of the delegates were already waiting Lord General McFallus began to question the beardless marine “So Emyr care to update me on recent events ? I would like to know what me and my boys have stepped into” “I’ll tell you what I can, I presume you heard the distress signal that the Planetary Governor sent out yes ? Well a number of Space Marine chapters answered the call along with a knight house, Tobias Payne called a banquet in his own home in order to discuss strategy and tactics which was attacked by a mysterious ork called the “Big Boss” the attack was repelled and everyone parted ways. During the meeting itself Payne laid out a number of objectives, the separatist movement known as the Tillers are plaguing Crion led by Horatio Payne who claims to be related to Tobias whom disputes this, The various feral ork tribes have been growing bolder and needed to be eradicated and he has lost contact with a hive on Luna Epsilon, we fear chaos influence in that regard. We stand here now to again discuss our progress and strategy, and here we are your room is the second last one on the right,you will find other delegates here and I will make sure a dataslate with all the imperial forces stationed in the sector are sent on to you so you know who is who” “Thanks a lot Emyr, seems we have stepped into a right shitestorm here, see you soon” “Indeed we will, a serf will be sent when the meeting takes place” saying their farewells Emyr raced back to the landing zone as another thunderhawk was spotted approaching Canis Caelum.

Two marines were already waiting at the end of the ramp when Emyr arrived. Looking at the insignia they wore they were obviously from the Charcarodons Astra. The two marines stood in silence. Taranis wore black robes which had intricate designs embroidered on them which interlocked and spiral into each other seamlessly. His hair was while and his eyes black, like all of his brethren his teeth were razor sharp. Exitar his companion was clad in Tactical Dreadnought Armor and towered above everyone as a result. “Greetings brothers sorry for the delay my name is Emyr Glaw and I will be showing you to your rooms” again the marines stood in silence until a voice entered Emyr’s mind “Lead the way, brother” taken aback Emyr stood for a second wondering what happened until he read the dataslate about Tanaris and his tongue, moving on he brought them to their chambers in silence. “Third door on the right” eager to get away from the intimidating astartes. Two aircrafts had arrived when Emyr had come back to the landing pad. Castella of the 85th Tempestus Scions and the librarian Nu-Alhuraq from the Arbiters of Truth stood awaiting the at the end of the ramp having some small talk with each other. Castella was clad in full carapace armor and wore her rep mask. A power sword hung from her hip and a hellgun was griped in her hands. Nu-Alhuraq stood out to Emyr as a librarian straight away with his deep blue armor and force stave which had a burning brazier on the head of it, his skin was tanned like the rest of his brothers and his hair was styled into dreadlocks.“The 85th have been locking down New Pavus, I will make a full report at the meeting” Nu-Alhuraq nodded his head “You are not the only one who has something to report to Central Imperial Command my broth-” “Glorious defenders of the Imperium, Greetings my name is Emyr Glaw and I will escort you to your chambers” Castella and Nu-Alhuraq exchanged one last look before departing with Emyr. “Oh and my Alpha Brother Faolan Gall requests that any talk of our progress would be confined to the meeting room itself” Castella frowned “Is Canis Caelum not secure ?” “Just a precaution my lady” Emyr noticed the look of disgust that Castella made at his last comment and decided to walk more swiftly to the cabin. “Arbiters of Truth are on the second door to the left and the 85th Scions are the first door on the right” Emyr glanced to his right spotting the skull that had been carved into the door with a eye patch over its right eye. With the two newest delegates in their chambers Emyr hoped the last few would arrive soon as he had grown bored of all this meet and greet nonsense.


A Valkyrie aircraft zoomed into Canis Caelum, from it emerged Colonel Taylor and 10 guardsmen. Their armor was a deep crimson and their uniforms underneath was as black as the night sky. The Colonel stepped forward and introduced himself “Names Colonel Taylor,” Emyr rocked his brain as to who these guys are “Must be a new arrive to the crusade” decided Emyr “Greetings Colonel, I am Emyr Glaw welcome to Canis Caelum, this way to you rooms” nodding the Colonel followed, his men in tow. Upon reaching the cabin he looked for the correct sigil, an Imperial eagle, “Sixth room on the left” declared Emyr “A serf will be dispatched to inform you when the meeting will begin” “ Thanks friend”

As Emyr approached the landing pad once more it was unmistakable as to whom had arrived.
There was only one man that was so round that had been sent an invitation to the meeting, Tobias Payne himself, behind him stood a cloaked figure casted in shadow. Payne as usual was draped in the finest silks money could buy along with freshly polished buttons and various Imperial insignia, he even hung a power sabre from his belt. “Greetings Planetary Governor Payne How do you do ?” Tobias Payne strolled down the ramp taking a puff off his ito stick and blowing the smoke out of the corner of his mouth “Where is your commander ? And who are you ? I expected Faolan Gall to welcome me to his home like I did when he came to mine” “Faolan sends his regards but he is busy at the moment, my own name is Emyr Glaw and I will show you to your room” letting out another puff of smoke Tobias Payne nodded “Very Well, I will bring up my disappointment with Faolan at the meeting” Emyr shot another glance at the shadowy figure before walking towards the cabin. Opening the door to the cabin Emyr noticed some of the guests talking with one another, Castella and Lord General McFallus were conversing by the fireplace while Nu-Alhuraq was standing next to Tanaris and must be communicating via their Physic powers. Roars and laughter emeged from the Space Wolves room which indicated to Emyr that the ale had found it’s way to their door. “What is this ?” “Your room is the first one on the left” “I expected something more private and luxurious” “Space is limited here, i’m sure Faolan would love to hear any complaints that you have, Good Day Governor” not waiting for a reply and smirking at the idea of Faolan getting an earful off Tobias Payne, Emyr left the Planetary Governor with his Shadowy friend.

There was only one delegate left, which pleased Emyr to no end. The few hours of mindlessly walking back and forth across the courtyard would soon be at an end. A jet black ship swooped into Canis Caelum silent as the grave. A lone figure marched out of the aircraft bearing a holo projector and a note. The figure was a stormtrooper clad in his usual carapace armor and helmet which was masked. Handing it to Emyr the note read as follows “Greetings friends, unfortunately due to recent events I am unable to leave my current position for the meeting, as such this soldier bears a holo projector from which I will take part, Kind Regards, Inquisitor Randell” satisfied Emyr beckoned for a pair of serfs to come over “One of you needs to inform the Delegation that the meeting is about to begin. Send a similar message to Faolan Gall” the two serfs scampered off delivering their messages. Emyr left out a sigh, “Right then follow me, I will lead you the the great hall”. So the meeting begins.

Rashn did not move a muscle, he had not done so for hours. From his vantage point in a great old oak tree he could see much of the human’s fortress. When Farseer Lilianna learned of the human’s meeting she sent him and his kin to infiltrate and report back on what transpired. Infiltrating the isle was child's play, sneaking past their patrols and outmanoeuvring the sensors that were placed faced Rashn and his rangers with no challenge. Rashn placed his rangers throughout the complex, reporting back to him with the human’s movements, everything appeared normal, everything was going according to plan. While the defenses proved no challenge placing the listening device in the meeting room was a little bit more difficult, while Rashn was placing them a serf barged in to make some last minute arrangements to the room, luckily Rashn hid behind one of the great twin Mahogany doors and let the man finish setting the table, after the man had left Rashn continued placing the bugs. Now all Rashn and his rangers had to do was wait for the meeting to end so he could collect the devices and be in his way, in and out and they didnt even know I was there grinned Rashn as he admired the view from his hiding spot nestled admist the leaves.

Faolan sat in his chair at the head of the table, he looked as presentable as he ever will be and the food for the feast was prepared, it was time. The last few delegates shuffled in and took their seats. Going in a clockwise motion from Faolan’s left sat Librarian Nu-Alhuraq, Colonel Taylor, Chaplain Iodius, Planetary Governor Tobias Payne with his shadowy friend standing behind him, Tanaris with Exitar standing behind his chair due to his terminator armor, Castella, Lord General McFallus, the stormtrooper from the inquisition, High Queen Moira with her sister and Queensward Amanda standing behind her followed by Lord Ulfric Stormclaw and his bodyguard Floki. After everyone had been settled Faolan stood, “Greetings friends to Canis Caelum, firstly so we are all accounted for please bring Inquisitor Randell in” the stormtrooper produced a holo emitter which he placed on the table in front of him. Inquisitor Randell beamed onto the table where faint echoes of gunfire and men shouting orders to each other could be heard. “Greetings, apologies for the holo emitter but I could not afford to just up and leave Hive Crogger” “Very well Inquisitor, the holo emitter will suffice” ensured Faolan as he proceeded “just to let you know our scouts caught a mighty boar yesterday that will serve as the meal for tonight, I hope you all like pork” grinned Faolan continuing “ To get the ball rolling the last time we met like this a number of threats were brought to our attention, The feral ork tribes, the separatist movement known as the Tillers and the foul incursion of Chaos on Luna Epsilon, does anyone have anything to report ?” High Queen Moira spoke first “Armsmen from my house have slain a particularly foul ork by the name of Kernal Bloodkill” Payne nodded “He plagued the Namrex dunes in my great grandfather's time, a worthy kill my lady” “Gorehound Da Cook has been killed by my second in command Cearul Adair, collapsed a cliff on him” stated Faolan “What about the Chaos incursion ?” Inquired Hu-Alhuraq “Well as you can see I am on the front lines as we speak, they are crudely armed cultists for the most part and have completely taken over Hive Cogger but we quickly began pushing them back with our penal legions and heavy armor. The crafty bastards shut down the lifts reducing our usage of our heavy armor but we have since got them back online, dare I say we have got these curs on the run. That does not mean I do not require support, while hunting ferals is great and all Chaos is the greatest threat ever to plague the Imperium and must be stomped out, any help you can spare would be gracious received” reported Inquisitor Randall “Agreed, Chaos cannot be allowed to fester and corrupt” pitched in Lord General McFallus. “How about the Tillers, any progress made to stomp them out ?” Lord Ulfric Stormclaw inquired . Castella spoke “The 85th have discovered that the city of New Pavus is a sanctuary for the separatist scum, we have recently been granted permission from Tobias Payne to put the city under martial law and with the help of the best the PDF has to offer will have begun to cleanse the city” “Very good” nodded Payne “I have made a bit of progress of my own, but first I have to introduce my associate here” “Yes, you do” muttered Iodius Payne took a nervous gulp and continued “I have hired some mercenaries to qhunt down a key member of the tillers,Francais Beacon. The decayed head rolled onto the table towards High Queen Moira who recoiled from the pungent odour it secreted. “Your mercenaries are a bit barbaric no ?” Stated Colonel Taylor “Agreed, show your face !” Demanded Faolan the tall lean figure stepped out of the shadows and removed it’s dark cloak to reveal it’s grey leathery skin, it’s white milky eyes and it had a cream robe on his back that came round and fastened on its stomach which was adorned with bones, a kroot. All the Astartes stood at once,Faolan grabbed Fangbearer which was laying beside him at the table, Cearul rushed to hold him back while Iodius towered over the xenos with his fists clenched. “My lords ! This kroot has aided me so far and will continue to do so, I assure you !” Pleaded Payne as he attempted to ease the situation, “Perhaps you are unaware of my history with kroot, Governor Payne but these animals feasted on Jakarn, my own hound ! Now you dare bring one of those monsters into my base ?” “Apologies my lord I was not aware-” “What made you think it would be wise to bring a filthy xenos to this meeting anyway ?” Asked Floki cutting Payne off. Tobias Payne was sweating profusely not expecting such resistance to Ta’lok, Cearul stepped forward “Ok everyone take a brief break and meet back here in one hour” the delegates left the room bar Cearul and Faolan who still held his Fangbearer in his tightened grasp. “That was unexpected” stated Cearul “No gak” “Come let us go for a walk and blow off some steam” the two marines left the room in search of favourable company.

Lord Ulfric Stormclaw and Floki awaited Faolan as he stepped outside, “Ah Faolan Gall, How are you feeling ?” “Sorrowful, that kroot brought a lot of bad memories back which I would have preferred to remain forgotten” “Cheer up friend, say how about we check out the kennels even brought one of my own to see how they compare” Faolan eyed the massive wolf who returned his stare, approaching slowly Faolan raised his hand and began scratching the wolf behind the ear, the wolf in turn tilted his head and closed his eyes obviously enjoying the sensation which brought Faolan a smile “I see you have a way with him, your dogs adore that ole trick too eh” said Stormclaw as he took over from Faolan and scratched the wolf's ear. “Indeed, let us go to the kennels then, our most recent addition sounds most promising” the four astartes and the wolf made their way to the kennels with Cearul keeping a safe distance from the thunderwolf. The barking if the dogs could be heard from all over Canis Caelum but as Faolan approached the barking became louder and more frequent. The kennels were one of the larger buildings in Canis Caelum and seemly one of the more prioritised ones, as one entered through the massive twin doors . All the dogs began to jump up in excitement at Faolan, tails wagging, forming a circle around the marine. When the thunderwolf strode in however, every single dog’s tails stopped wagging and fell between their legs as they retreated back into the corners of the enclosure even the Fianna which were considered to be the most dangerous breed the Emperor's Hounds had to offer. One lone pup however, persisted in playing with Faolan,Keon the new pup native to this moon continued licking and biting Faolan’s fingers, his tail wagging he seemly took no notice of the thunderwolf that had almost emptied the room. Once Faolan stood he turned to see Lord Stormclaw grin from ear to ear “This one either doesn't know any better or he is special” chuckling all the while, Faolan joined in on the chuckling “Indeed, this one is new to our kennels, native to Crion and it’s moons. My Houndmaster said he was special but to flat out ignore a thunderwolf” just then without Faolan to play with Keon wandered up to Skoll who merely ignored the pup almost as if it were a nuisance. Keon began scratching and nibbling the wolf’s paw, Skoll who wasn't expecting such a thing jump in fright which set the four astartes to burst out laughing. Keon who was about to chase the wolf and continue his play session was scooped up by Faolan “Enough of that, back you go” putting the pup back down near the other dogs. “You have my thanks” said Faolan “This has definitely raised my spirits” “As it has ours brother, i’m eager to see that pup fully grown to see what he is capable of, say Floki and I still have a few bottles of brew to finish off if you would like to join us ?” “Nah, thank you for the offer, enjoy your brew” declined Faolan as he waved his brothers off “We always do!” Chuckled Stormclaw as he departed for his chambers. “So what now ?” Cearul asked “I am gonna meet with the new commanders, introduce myself, you coming ?” “Sure, got nothing else to do”

Lord General McFallus and Colonel Taylor were sharing some wine in the Lord General’s quarters when Faolan and Cearul emerged in the doorway, both men rushed to stand “Don't worry friends, sit down, relax. I thought I would introduce myself while we have the chance” “Faolan Gall right ? Quite the fury you displayed in there at that xenos, you were dead right of course” said the Lord General as he sipped on his wine, “Agreed, what was that idiot thinking bringing not only a kroot but a mercenary to this meeting, his lips are sealed only as long as he is getting paid, after he leaves Payne’s employ who knows what kinds of secrets he could spill” commented the Colonel. “I appreciate the comments but I should have held back my anger that display did noone any good” “Don't be too hard on yourself, here have some wine” “Suppose I time for one or two, thank you McFallus”.

Ardan strolled around the great hall again, he had lost count as to how many times he had done so, such is the joy of patrolling thought Ardan as he turned the corner. He stopped mid stride and listened, a rustle in the bushes, could be a bird or a similar type of creature but Ardan was not taking any chances. Drawing his chainsword his cautiously approached the one of the bushes that lingered around the back of the great hall. Ardan saw a green blur before he was shoved onto the ground. Something began to thump off his helmet, something blunt like a club, a similar pain erupted from his legs and spread. He vision started to blur and fade, he managed to catch a glimpse of his assailants before he was knocked out cold, ork kommandos. Akark clobbered the beakie boy first, right around the back of the head which dropped him to the floor where he kept on clobbering. Kharok joined in next bashing in the beakie boy’s kneecaps rendering any escape impossible, when Nurgor joined in it was all over and started beating the marine’s mid section. The marine stopped moving, “We clobbered ‘im right an’ gud” grinned Kharok “Gotta hide da body” said Nurgor looking left and right for a hiding spot “Oi what ‘bout dese bushes ‘ere, we gotta move anyway” “Hmmm, ah feth it, throw him him den and let’s go” the three kommandos hid the body in an adjacent bush and skulked around Canis Caelum looking for a new spot to spy on the meeting.

Faolan walked back to the great hall along with Cearul, Lord General McFallus and Colonel Taylor when they bumped into High Queen Moira and Castella talking just outside the door “ And thats when he fell into the punch bowl” “Whether Castella let off a smile or not it was impossible to tell as her repmask covered her face. “Ladies, the meeting is about to recommence, may we ?” Letting the two women go first they reentered the building where now roast pork was now being served, as the serf cut into the pork its juices flowed down the side of it which made many of the guests mouth water. The pork was served with potatoes and various forms of vegetables with some gravy being passed around. Once everyone was settled Faolan stood “Before we go on I would like to apologise for my behaviour earlier on and in an attempt to avoid further conflict I would ask Ta’lok to leave the building” no one argued, no one said anything as the kroot left the meeting in silence. Skoll who was curled up in a ball next to the fireplace was awoken by the smell of food and got two whole pigs for himself. “Now then, with our progress reports out of the way I believe we should make plans going forward” “Before we move on, earlier Inquisitor Randall you said you have yet to run into our traitorous brethern yet I have a feeling my marines may have made contact with them” revealed Iodius a look of concern flashed upon Inquisitor Randall’s face “From where did you get that notion?” “Something is hunting my second in command, Caesar I suspect Chaos marines” “Any other proof ?” “Not at this time” “Keep us updated Chaplain” said Randall as another round of fire could be heard from the holo emitter. Payne let out a nervous cough “Before my bodyguard was asked to leave he told me that he had felt a presence arrive in the sector, a chaos daemon perhaps ?” Nu-Alhuraq nodded in agreement “I definitely felt something cannot tell you what exactly but it was big” Colonel Taylor stepped up “We must be ever vigilant of chaos that is true but they are not the only threat, while the local feral orks hve been dealt a major blow with the loss of their Warbosses many still stand, Gorgrim comes to mind, while I have not been here long I have seen firsthand the cost of ignoring orks for too long, they must be finished off” High Queen Moira pitched in “Agreed we must finish what we started” Payne stood up “Need I remind you about the Tillers ? While I appreciate all of your efforts I believe a bigger one could be made to tackle those scum.” Exitar spoke next, “Let us not forget about the Eldar threat, who knows what those knife ears are planning” Cearul nodded “Agreed Eldar still,plague Aspen to this very day, kidnapping and raiding they should not be left to plan and scheme. They would happily sacrifice all of us for one of their own.” Faolan pitched in “And for that reason I pledge that the Emperor’s Hounds will aid you in searching for and destroying the Eldar threat” Exitar nodded “Thank you, Alpha brother”. Nu-Alhuraq spoke next “While all of those threats need to be taken care of I believe my brothers found a much more immediate threat, a massive ork horde lies south of here with an ork Gargant at its head last seen heading towards the space elevator on this moon, should they reach it they could spread their waaaagh to any one of the moons and or planets, they must be stopped on this moon and it will be a collaborative effort.” A deathly silence took the room, Lord General McFallus was the one to break it “Any other information on the horde itself ?” “Massive, wartrukks, Deff dreads, killa kans, you name it they got it, definitely higher tech than what the local orks possess” Castella spoke up “The Gargant is the main threat to be sure, any ideas on how to destroy it ? What about some melta charges from the inside of it ?” Stormclaw shook his head “A number of problems with that, one you would have to get inside it and swarms of planes would be flying around it to be sure, two the explosion that a machine that size would make will be huge not sure how much of a window a team would have for extraction. So saying that we need to use the environment to tackle this beast” “Agreed, maybe a canyon would do it, it would limit its maneuverability allowing us to get aboard relatively safely and the following explosion would collapse the canyon and bury it under rubble” proposed Faolan. “So how do we decide who does what ? As you said this will be a multi part operation a d -” Pryce Rye burst into the meeting room which startled Skoll and whispered something into Faolan’s ear. All could see that it was bad news as Faolan’s face turned into a scowl. “It appears that one of my own have been assaulted, under my own roof, he was beaten to near death and is with the apothecary as we speak. Forgive me for being suspicious to each and every one of you but the island is locked down, you are the only outsiders who could have arrived here without permission, so would anyone want to admit something ?” A silence broke out as each of the leaders looked at each other “What about your pet kroot Payne ? Maybe he did not appreciate being kicked out” spat Lord General McFallus . Payne snorted “I doubt it , he would not be so brash or foolish to attempt such a thing”. Iodius rose “You are hardly blaming us for your lacking security are you ?” Faolan rose also “Excuse me ?” “Have you not considered that it may have been one of your own ?” “You insolent cur ! Just because most of your chapter defected to the ruinous powers doesn't mean we are all so unfaithful !” Stormclaw rose “Brothers please, we must be unified if we are to tackle all the issues th-” Iodius lunged over the table sending his mailed fist upwards connecting with Faolan’s chin which sent him reeling backwards. The rest of the delegates stood up and backed off giving the two marines room. Faolan stood back up clutching his jaw before he lunged at Iodius and smashed him through the wooden wall behind him, Faolan was about to pursue him when a wall of flame soared up in front of Faolan separating the two fighters, Nu-Alhuraq stood staff outstretched “You are the Emperor’s Angels of death save your wrath for the enemy, Emperor knows we have enough of them !” Faolan looked at everyone in the room, still in a temper “Everyone leave, NOW !” One by one the various leaders left Canis Caelum while Faolan rushed to the med bay to see how his old friend was doing.Faolan reflected on today’s events while he looked over Ardan who was battered and bruised but was in a stable condition, By the Emperor thought Faolan what a mess.

Rashn watched the brawl from his tree, he saw the human donned in blacked getting shoved through the wall and the rest of them leaving soon after. The new hole in the wall made retrieving the listening device easy, as if it wasn't easy enough. With the listening device in their possession Rashn and his rangers went to report back to their Farseer who would no doubt be interested with today's events.

Cearul apologised to the last delegate as they took off out of Canis Caelum, a heavy tap on his shoulder got his attention, turning he saw Cabhan standing there “Brother Cadarn, how do you fare ?” “Just heard the news brother about the meeting and Ardan, any suspects ?” “Half the bloody Imperium at this point, just spent the last twenty minutes apologizing to our guests as they departed, to say that was foolish is an understatement.” “I blame the Kroot, it will put him in a bad mood for days” “Faolan is wise but that wisdom is useless if he cannot control his temper, I am gonna go and see what the old dog is thinking” “Very well Cearul, I will make a sweep of the scanners and see if I can't fish up something on Ardan’s assailants” departing Cearul turned for the med bay to see if he can figure out what the hell just happened, never a dull moment Cearul thought to himself as the sun set on Canis Caelum.
Spoiler:
If you were expecting a masterpiece from this, im sorry but you didnt get it, nevertheless I tried my best, I cannot do anymore. As for the objectives going forward which includes the Gargant TS will be handling those, I believe he said he will post them after this. I wrote this from my character's perspective as that is what I am comfortable with. If I misrepresented your dudes please tell me so it wont happen in the future.





Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/06/05 20:21:50


Post by: Kharne the Befriender


=====Yankor, Luna Epsilon=====

Numek stood at a table in his personal research area gazing at a three-dimensional map of some topography, his small metallic companion perched on his shoulder. It is a dense jungle terrain with thick underbrush and tall trees, flora of all shapes and sizes could be seen distributed throughout. Numek moved his skeletal finger through the amber image, the glow radiating off both his and Kephri’s ivory carapace. Where his finger moved, a line was traced, he was creating a trail to something. He was interrupted when the door opened and Kephri almost lurched at the visitor.
“Sorry for intruding, but I have a favor to ask of you.” A small blue figure slowly entered the room. Tach’var’s eyes wandered about the room as he approached Numek.
“It is quite fine Shas’O, what favor do you need?”
“I was in the information center and noticed that one of your men picked up on a signal from Crion.”
“What of it?”
“I’m no specialist, but I know that was a Tau signal a-”
“And you need someone to hack into their communications. But to what end?”
“Well, perhaps I can negotiate some form of deal with them. Seeing that they’re on the surface, perhaps we can persuade them to give us information?”
“I doubt your attempt will succeed… but you may try nonetheless, there will be a Warrior waiting for you in the Transmissions room.”
“Thank you Numek.”
Numek had already resumed his work by the time the Tau had replied. It interested him little, the toils of mortals, for he had a single purpose, to create. Numek finished tracing his line at a particular spot in the jungle, it was an entrance of some sort. As well hidden as it was, its location had already been discovered, it was just a matter of moving the troops there. He would bring along several Warrior Phalanxes as well as a Deathmark Pack. The jungle canopy was to dense for an aerial drop, they would have to go in on foot. He grabbed his staff and sent orders to those he was taking. By the time he reached the entrance to surface, 30 Warriors and 10 Deathmarks had already assembled.

=====Tybalt, Luna Epsilon=====

The trek to the Blood Dragon Ruin was a long and arduous one, filled with panoramic views and dense fog. The trip overall took several hours to accomplish due to the thick underbrush and fog, Numek wasn’t willing to take chances with the fog. Numek stopped his men about 5 clicks from where the ruins entrance was supposed to be. He looked around for a bit before continuing, “Alright, Deathmarks, I want you to scout forward. Enter your ethereal plain and watch for any threats, link up with us when we get to the ruins.” The leading Deathmark nodded, then activated his dimensional oubliette and disappeared from existence. Numek signaled for the rest of the Warriors to continue forward on their advance. The Deathmarks reached the site first and were able to locate the entrance. Numek soon followed with his Warrior Phalanxes, he looked over the entrance, inspecting the carvings on it.

The entrance was small, only able to accommodate 2 warriors side by side. They began marching but stopped after a minute or so, something was off. Before the Necrons realized the trap they had just walked into, the panels on the walls opened and beasts entered the chamber. The strange beasts with razor fangs and leathery black hides became tearing at the Necron ranks. Normally this would be trivial, but the limitations of the tunnel made it difficult to mount any sort of a proper defence. A dozen Necrons are destroyed by the beasts before the Necrons began falling back, as they did so, more and more beasts were felled. The path glowed with flashes of amber as the gauss projectors cracked and unmade the beasts. By the time they made it back out of the tunnels a few more men had been lost. Numek was not about to lose the rest of his Warriors and endanger the mission, he would deploy some scanners and see where they lead. He released them and pulled up a holo map of what the scanners were detecting. The path was small, but went on for a couple miles before reaching a large chamber.

Numek turned and faced the air behind him, “Enter the tunnel, finish off whatever beasts reappear, I will accompany you into the chamber.” Without another word the Deathmarks re entered reality and left their own dimension. They began to move cautiously through the tunnel, every now and then a few beasts would come out of the walls, but after seeing their lesser kin torn asunder they knew how to fight these beasts. As the beasts lurched for their prey, they exposed their massive maws, leaving them vulnerable to a well placed shot that would eviscerate their nervous systems. As Numek and his Deathmarks reached the end of the tunnel they approached a massive stone door adorned in runes and icons of the Blood Dragons. Above the door was written a most grave warning in High Gothic which read, “Beware Murrogg Usher of the End Times.”

Numek, believing he could handle anything, chooses to enter the room despite the apocalyptic warning. The room is quite large and contains what seems to be an altar on the opposite side of the room. Decorating the walls is a mural, it depicts a great winged beast raining black fire and death upon Astartes, but at the end of the mural an Astartes cloaked in a golden halo raises his arm to the foul beast which is then banished. Numek turned his eyes to the altar, upon which sat a great urn with more Blood Dragon inscriptions on it. A faint whirring noise drew his attention the the Deathmark closest to the altar. It began shuddering, its amber glow fading into a red one, its smooth white carapace turning to that of dark ash. It approached the urn and opened it, Numek raised his staff to destroy the rogue Deathmark, but it was too late, whatever evil slumbered within that urn was now released onto the world. Before Numek could do much of anything an ethereal flash blinded all in the room, the rest of the Deathmarks began aiming at whatever had just manifested itself. Three Deathmarks were utterly ripped to shreds by the black blur before it slammed another two into the wall, destroying them completely. Numek and the surviving Deathmarks teleported to the entrance of the ruin, away from the thing. Numek looked around, there was not a sight of the rogue Deathmark, it must have gone to who/what had been able to override its programming, this causes Numek a great deal of worry. His train of thought was shattered as a massive roar was heard from the tunnel's entrance, seconds later the same black blur broke through the entrance and took to the skies at tremendous speeds. Numek was not sure what he saw, but whatever it was, it was obviously this Murrogg.

He motioned to his surviving units and motioned for them to follow him back into the tunnel. Along the way he was able to reanimate a few Warriors, but in the chamber, none of the Deathmarks were salvageable. He looked to the Deathmarks, “Return to base, tell Grulahk what has happened here. Tell him I need a Canoptek Host and 2 additional Warrior Phalanxes.” The Deathmarks turned and faded out of existence, Numek walked over to where the urn was and began looking at the shattered pieces. This would require further study.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/06/06 02:32:50


Post by: War Kitten


The Hive is almost peaceful at this time of night. The air is perfectly still, almost as if the world itself is taking a much needed breather before resuming its’ normal rhythm. Much of the shooting has stopped, as both sides pull back to lick their wounds and prepare for the next day. The foolish younger races have forgotten about the presence of me and my kin, a fact that I intend to exploit fully, they will regret the day that they tested the mettle of Khaine’s children. We will not spill blood this night and maybe not the next either, but soon enough the mon’keigh will feel our blades, and they will know of our coming by our banshee calls. They will know fear, and they will know the wrath of the Eldar. It is only a matter of time.

I trod silently through the winding streets of the Hive, scanning the surrounding buildings carefully with weapons at the ready. At my side march a squad of ten Guardians, each one a proud scion of Iybraesil, each one a son or daughter of Isha. Every time I see it it fills me with fierce pride. The Eldar may have fallen far since our glory days, but we are still a force to be reckoned with. My memories of my previous life amongst the humans seems to grow fainter and fainter with every passing day, and strangely enough, I do not miss those memories. I’m not exactly ashamed of my time amidst the humans, posing as one of them, but my mind is eager to replace those memories with new and better ones. I’m jolted out of my reverie when the lead Guardian suddenly halts and raises a fist, indicating that the rest of us need to stop and listen. As one we melt seamlessly into the shadows, and just a few seconds later we see the cause of the Guardian’s caution. A group of Cultists round the corner, talking loudly as they go about their patrol. Their lack of discipline is reason enough to hate them, but to assist the great Enemy? That is truly unforgivable. My hand strays towards the hilt of my shuriken pistol. It would be so easy to do it, to pull my pistol and cut them down where they stand. I know that I would receive support from my Guardians, for I can sense their bloodlust just as I’m sure they can sense mine. These fools do not deserve to breathe the same air as us, but I know that attacking them now would prove disadvantageous in the long run. It would put them on high alert for some time, making future operations in this area difficult. Our objective tonight is not to slay, it is to gather information, to begin to learn the patrol routes of the enemy. And we have accomplished this. With a gentle mental signal we begin to make our way back towards our hidden base camp in the Hive. My hand was stayed tonight by necessity, the enemy will not be so lucky next time.

Spoiler:
Moon 2, Hive Cogger.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/06/06 10:44:42


Post by: Sgt. Vanden


Ben sat in the crew quarters of the Valkyrie, about two kilometres from the walls of ‘The Blood Fort’.
“ETA three minutes, sir.” The co-pilot swivelled in his chair to face Ben.
“Great, send word that we’re coming, we don’t want to catch the lads off guard that much now do we?” Ben laughed.
“Yes sir. Sending word now.” The co-pilot turned back and pressed a few buttons, pulled a few levers and turned back. “Vox is going live in 5-4-3…” He counted down the rest with his fingers. As the co-pilot closed his hand, Ben began to speak.
“PDF outpost ‘Blood Fort’, this is Captain Benjamin Sloan, of the 2nd Helsreach ‘Gorgons’, requesting a landing pad and a meeting with whoever is in charge. We need some information on the rebels.” Ben waited a few minutes, and a response came in.
“Landing pad two is clear for landing. You will be escorted to the Commander, who will be waiting for you.” With that, communications were cut off.
“Well, they’re not very friendly are they?” The co-pilot laughed after he made sure the vox was off.
“Damned right they ain’t…I think this is going to be more complicated than what we thought it would be…” Ben sighed.

True to the operator’s word, there were a pair of armed guards waiting for Ben and the quarter of first platoon.
“Commander Krane is waiting for you. If you could follow us.” The two guards turned on their heels and marched off.
“Guess we shouldn’t keep the good ‘ol commander waiting eh?” Ben nudged his men forward and followed the two sombre guards. The guides remained silent until the group rounded a corner. The guardsmen were met by another four men, one strapped to a post, with dozens of onlookers. The other three men held long, black whips, the man on the post screamed in agony, his back was just ribbons of flayed flesh. Ben was taken aback by the degree of torture.
“What is this?!” Philodus, a young sergeant, stepped forward to question the two guards.
“Orders from the Commander, now, if you will. Follow us.” The oldest of the guards moved infront of Philodus and gestured to an alley. This silenced Philodus, and he moved back to his commanding officers side. The two shared a hushed word as the guards marched off again.
“Hard-asses eh?”
“Fookin hell you can say that again…” Ben said slightly too loud, and the younger guard turned and stared at Ben. He turned back and mumbled something to his compatriot and continued walking.
“Bit loud don’t you think?” Philodus smiled as the colour slowly went back to his Captains face. Ben made a motion across his lips and kept walking.

After several minutes of walking, the group finally reached the Commanders office. The two guards entered and motioned for Ben and his squad to stay back. After a minute or two, they came back out and motioned for Ben and two others to enter. Philodus and another veteran entered, each holding their lasguns at rest. Ben noticed how spartan the room was, minimal items on the simple wooden desk, two chairs on either side the desk, and a single painting on the wall. Commander Samuel Krane rose up from his desk to meet his guests.
“Captain Sloan, a pleasure. I am Samuel Krane, Commander of this here establishment.” Samuel Krane offered his hand to Ben.
“Likewise Commander.” Ben took his hosts hand and shook it up and down. The Commander gestured to a chair infront of his desk.
“Please, sit.” Ben sat on it and heard his two men lean against the wall.
“Thank you. We-“
“Have much to talk about yes, I’ve heard it all before.” Ben was slightly taken aback by the Commanders response, and went to continue.
“Yes. You see, my regiment have just finished a deployment, and this is our only stop before we can go back to our planet and settle down. To do this as fast as possible, Lord-General McFallus requests that we begin training of your PDF immediately. Now, if you could cooperate, that would speed up precessions significantly.”
“No.”
“No?”
“No. You think you fething offworlders can walk into MY fort and teach MY men how to fight? The Blood Fort was established when Sebastian Payne first settled Crion, and we have a damn proud tradition of being the Lord Governor’s best. Take your gak to Blackwater where they might need it.” Samuel Krane scoffed at Ben, his eyes blazing a hole of hostility into Ben. Ben temper flared and he leapt to his feet and slammed his las-pistol on the desk.
“You watch your words Crane, I should have you shot for insubordination!”
“I’d like to see you try!” Samuel, now also on his feet motioned at his guards, who were both pointing their las-guns at Ben. His two men responded by aiming their own weapons at the two guards. “My word is final. Get out of my Fort.”
“Did that man out there question your word? Is that the measure of justice around these parts? You make me sick.”
“Good. Now get out.” Ben gritted his teeth and picked up his pistol.
“I will not forget this…this…Tomfoolery!!” Ben warned as he left the office.
“You can count on it, swine.” Samuel smiled as he leaned back into his chair, sharing a laugh with the two guardsmen at his sides. Back outside of the office, Ben and his men stormed back to the Valkyrie. Philodus walked next to his commander, and finally managed the courage to ask Ben a question that was on his mind for a while.
“Sir?” The young sergeant asked
“What is it?” Ben, still salty from his encounter snapped.
“Tomfoolery?” The sergeant chuckled.
“I will shoot you. You tell no one I fookin’ said that.” Ben shook his head, there were so many better words he could’ve used at the time, but he was just too pissed to think of them.
“Yes sir. Understood. There will be no tomfoolery from me, Sir.” Philodus grinned from ear to ear.
“Fookin’ smartass…” Ben also laughed.

The trip back to South Vow was a silent one, each man doing his own thing. Until Benjamin got up and squeezed into the cockpit.
“How much fuel we got?”
“About 70% full, why?”
“We’re taking a detour. Gimme a map of all the outposts around this shitehole of a planet.”
“Alright…Give me a second…” The pilot fiddled with a small satchel at his side while he controlled the Valkyrie with his knees. He pulled a small, folded piece of paper out of it with his mouth and closed his satchel. He opened the paper, revealing a hand-drawn map.
“Damn, since when were you into topography?”
“Since we got here sir, now, we can go anywhere within…” The pilot drew a small circle around a point. “Here. And that’s including reserves. Where ever we go, we have to refuel if we want to get back intact.”
“Aha, so…PDF outposts?” Ben looked over the map. “By the way, do you want me to hold the map? I’m getting a bit edgy with you using your knees to keep us in the air…”
“Nobody touches my maps, sir. Not even you.” The pilot then pointed at a few points on the map. “Just those sir, the ones we can make are these two.” The pilot pointed at two points on the map within the circle.
“Well, one of them is a big no, so how about the other one? Information on it?” Ben asked.
“Eh, it’s called Dorn’s Shield…”
“And?”
“How am I meant to know?” Ben facepalmed.
“Emperor damn it…Guess we’re winging it?”
“Anything else we can do?”
“Nah, anyway, you’re about to fly us into the trees, could you maybe, oh I don’t know, not?”
“Oh, yea. Sorry about that.” The pilot responded calmly and eased the controls back with his knees. The Valkyrie levelled and Ben let out a breath.
“So, how long?” Ben asked.
“Current speed? About two hours.”
“Good, I’m going to get some shut eye, I’ll inform the others.”
“Good, I’ll wake you up when we’re ten minutes out.” Ben nodded and went back to the rest of his squad. After the debrief, there was exactly one hour, forty-nine minutes and thirteen seconds left. He was sure to make the most of it.

Ben unstrapped himself and stood up.
“Oright, as I said, no playing around. I don’t want to go back to the General with empty pockets and nothing to show for it, he could take away my supply of ale.” Joked Ben. He knew these men for a long time, and he respected them enough to share a laugh with them. Each soldier began unstrapping themselves from their seats and began to rise.

Where the last trip was a friendly meeting, Ben would have a no bullgak encounter this time. They go in hard, they go in fast. Catch the garrison off guard, and demand they receive proper training to prevent it from happening again. Ben prayed it would work. The Valkyrie voxed in, requesting a space to land. The response came in late, and Ben raised his eyebrow. This seemed promising. The response finally came in.
“Er, yes, please land at umm…Landing pad 2.” The pilot said nothing, and pulled the Valkyrie over a small, battered wall. He yanked the controls back as another gunship filled the viewport. He swore and expertly brought down the left wing to prevent collision. He felt it scrape against the hard stone of the wall and cursed again. Ben felt himself fly into the wall opposite him. He felt a sharp pain in his arm. He shouted out in pain, and felt himself fly back into his seat, and felt another crack. Another three men were thrown around the transport, while the rest were barely able to hold on. Eventually, the Valkyrie evened out again and his squadmates were able to help him and the other fallen guardsmen.
“Sir, your arm is broken in two places and you have a concussion, can you hear me?” Philodus slapped Ben awake. “Stay awake sir, I don’t feel like having another commanding officer just yet.” The pilot stormed out of the cockpit and grabbed the two nearest troopers. He stormed up to the wall, pulled out his pistol and fired in the air. After a half a minute delay, a head popped over the rails. The pilot called out, his voice seething with rage.
“Get your ass down here! And bring your damned operator with you!” The pilot paced for several minutes, before a rackety gate opened up and half a dozen semi-drunk troopers emerged, one of which, had a distinct headset on. The pilot marched right up to the operator, grabbed his head, and smashed it against his knee.
“YOU FOOKING IDIOTIC SON OF A WHORE gak DRIBBLER! YOU COULD’VE KILLED US ALL!” The pilot kicked at the downed operator. The troopers accompanying him looked around in surprise, and were in turn, brought to their knees by the pilot. “Fooking six on one, and you all still lose. You should all be ashamed of yourselves. Now get on your feet, and tell your panty assed commander that real soldiers have come to train your incompetent asses how to fookin be real men!” The pilot smiled underneath his oxygen mask, which he had forgotten to remove. This job just got a hell of a lot easier.

The pilot was right. The commander, Ogger Berrek, was swift to agree to the Gorgons teaching his PDF. He also voiced his concerns that the Tillers, an anti-governor regime, were taking over Dorn’s Shield. This was not taken lightly, and plans were made to flush out the heretics, and cleanse the up and coming outpost of their kind. Training started within a few days, and already, the Guardsman in charge of the arduous training were taken aback by the amount of potential these recruits had. They would make soldiers of them yet. Captain Benjamin also outlawed public flaying, after seeing the atrocities performed at The Blood Fort.

One week after the events at Dorn’s Shield

“GIT YA LAZY FOOKIN ASSES OUT OF THE MUD AND UP THE WALL!” Drill sergeant Eirine yelled at the top of her voice to the twenty recruits in front of her. She, and her platoon, had been assigned training duties, along with the rest of the Company. They scrambled out of the mud, speeding at the sound of her voice, and climbed the wall as fast as they could. One by one, they went over the ten foot wall and jumped down into the sewage water. She moved beside them, constantly hurtling insults and curses at them, but deep inside, she was incredibly proud of them. In the week she had this group, they flourished like a malnourished flower. She watered them with insults, and, slowly, they bloomed, and the outline of soldiers. “GOOD! Now, get cleaned up and report to the mess in twenty minutes. And funny business and you’re sleeping with the pigs.” She beamed underneath her face mask. Slowly, the drained recruits made their way to the mixed gender showers, then back into their rooms. A few minutes later, they exited, and made their way to the makeshift mess, which was the size of a Field Command HQ. Eirine was already there, sitting at a table with the rest of the drill abbots. The mess was filling quickly, the other groups coming back from their showers also coming to eat.
“You got them working a tight schedule, I’ll give you that.” Liam remarked as he sipped his wine.
“Damned right. Wouldn’t have it any other way.” Eirine watched the twenty recruits sit at a table, and begin to converse. She saw a few glances towards her direction and smiled. She picked up her tray and stood up. “Ya know what? I think I might sit with em. Might bring up their spirits. See yous tonight.”
“Got that. Just so you know, sleeping with recruits ain’t allowed.” Zach snickered as Eirine moved away. She turned and shot him a poisonous glare. He shut up.
“Oi, you guys got room for one more?” Eirine asked as she reached the table.
“Yes ma’am, of course ma’am.” The recruits spoke out in unison.
“No need for formalities here. Just call me Sarg or something. But on the field, I expect you all to go back to addressing me by my rank.” She warned, but sat down anyway. “I just wanted you all to know that I am very proud of you all. You’ve come a long way in your first week, and I can’t wait to see what you can do in a month or two.”
“Thank you Sarg!” All the recruits responded at the same time.

Back at The Gates to Hel(Guard Strike base)

“So, theres a meeting huh?” Henri asked.
“Aye, a Chapter of Space Marines is holding it at their Base. We goin or not?”
“Aye of course we’ll go. Make friends and show our faces to the rest of the Imperials. Oh, and of course, get information and what not.” Henri twirled the end of his moustache.
“Brilliant, when are we goin?” Ben asked.
“Well, we have to get off planet, so, if we leave in a day or two, we’ll probably get there on time. Get a few Karskin and brief them. Oh, and please look presentable.”
“What? You want me to shave my beard? But…These Marines might like it…”
“Shave. Hell, wear a bloody mask. Don’t want to scare our new friends to death now do we?” Henri chuckled.
“Ah fook off.”
“You wish.”
“…Coont…” Ben swore underneath his breath.
“I heard that.”

Spoiler:
M'kay, so my piece is finally done. Just a few weeks overdue. So. Here it is. Feast my friends! FEAST!

Oh, and don't mind the swear words. It's not me trying to get past the filter barrier, it's more me trying to do the accent good.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/06/06 16:58:18


Post by: Ezra Tyrius


The wind roared as a Storm Eagle flew through the skies over Hive Cogger. The battle below made for a useful distraction, keeping most of the defences busy whilst the gunship descended towards the burning Hive.

Kusun and Mithras sat in the back of the vessel, surrounded by a group of ten Terminator-armoured Black Legionnaires. A safety measure, as Mithras had put it, in case the ‘negotiations’ did not go as planned.

Kusun despised the thought. Astartes were not meant for diplomacy, nor for ‘negotiations’. To negotiate was to prostrate oneself for another, to show weakness. He had grown amongst the pack of wolves and serpents that was the Black Legion, and he knew all too well that a silver tongue never saved anyone from the ambitions of his brethren.

The vox crackled as the intercom sprang to life.

“Lords, we are approaching our destination. Shall I open the communications channel?”, the pilot’s slightly metallic voice croaked over the vox.

Kusun sighed. “Negative. I shall do so myself”, he spoke, reaching for the Vox-caster he had ripped from an unfortunate PDF guard back in the village. He hooked a small wire unto the Vox-caster and attached it to his collar, linking his personal vox with that of the Vox-caster. Then, he carefully started tuning the signal, although it proved rather difficult as the buttons were still slick with the blood of their previous owner. After some fiddling, Kusun heard a shrill voice shouting into the vox with an admirable passion, proclaiming the death of the Imperials and the glory of the revolution.

Fanatics. Wonderful.

He cleared his throat, and spoke into the vox a single word.

“Despair.”

The voice suddenly stopped dead in its tracks. Confusion seemed to reign on the other end of the line. A few minutes of silence and static passed, only a few whispers passing between the individuals on the other side. Then, the voice spoke again.

“Who is this? How did you find this channel?”

“How did you?”, Kusun asked, his armoured fingers tapping on the unfortunate vox-caster’s skull. He’d kept it on his belt ever since the attack. He himself wasn’t even quite sure why.

More whispers, this time slightly agitated. The voice returned.

“Identify yourself! Are you a servant of the Corpse-Emperor?”

Kusun sighed. “I am Kusun Zhaqar, commander of the Omnia Cadunt and representative of the Black Legion. I’m going to presume that I am speaking to the resistance of Hive Cogger.”

Mentioning the Black Legion seemed to have caught the cultists’ attention, as their whispered chatter was now almost audible in the background. The voice returned, albeit still rather hesitant.

“Do you pledge your allegiance to the Flayed Lord?”

If Kusun had not lost his sense of humour millennia earlier, he would have laughed at such a question.

“I bow to no-one but the Warmaster himself. If your Lord takes offence to that, I propose he works it out with him instead.”

The man on the other end of the line didn’t respond.

“If you are done asking mundane questions, I would like to meet with your superiors. My ship requires a landing zone. Guide me to one or I shall make one myself.”

And with that, he unplugged the Vox unit from his suit and crunched it to dust in his fists.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

The Storm Eagle gracefully descended towards the landing zone, which was a small landing pad near the Governor’s palace. The side hatches were open, so Kusun could see the state of affairs for himself. Around the landing zone stood a group of armed cultists, several of them nervously pacing back and forth and trailing the incoming gunship with worried glances.

Kusun rose from his chair as the aircraft touched down on the landing pad, as did Mithras and their escorts. Before Kusun could step outside, Mithras placed a firm hand on his shoulder.

“Remember, Brother. We are here to make these men our allies.”

Kusun glanced at him over his shoulder. “I am aware, Apostle. Your point?”

Mithras sighed. “Try to not provoke them… unnecessarily.”

“Of course”, Kusun replied, as he stepped out unto the dust-covered landing pad.

The group of cultists visibly tensed as the Black Legionnaires disembarked from the Storm Eagle, their grip on their guns tightening as they took stock of the new arrivals.

Few dared to keep their eyes on the black-armoured giant leading the group for too long, for fear of catching his undivided attention. A careful observer noted that his left shoulderpad was coloured a bloody crimson, and an icon of the Blood God hung prominently on the figure’s belt. A massive war-axe hung loosely on his back, ticking ever so softly against the backpack, although one could have sworn it sounded more like the barking of a monstrous hound.

The giant stopped, as did his retinue. The two groups, human and Astartes, stood face to face for a few tense minutes, as the former gathered the courage to approach the latter. The situation sat on a knife-edge, and everyone knew how quickly things would escalate if it came to blows.

The giant inhaled, the sound akin to a wave heaving itself upwards before it crashed back unto the ocean floor, and the cultists and Astartes alike gripped their weapons even tighter, waiting for the fateful command that would be ushered from the giant’s lips.

“Bring me to your leader.”

The statement was so incredibly blunt that it temporarily stunned both groups entirely. Mithras smacked the palm of his hand against his faceplate as hard as he could, whilst the cultists were simply too puzzled by the statement to form a reply.

The tension returned when one overzealous cultist shouted a curse and took aim at Kusun, his eyes glimmering with fanaticism. A couple of brave others joined him, their rusty autoguns trained on Kusun’s unhelmeted head.

Kusun looked around at the group, making not even the slightest move to defend himself. His Legionnaires stood impassively by his side, waiting for what would happen next.

“By all means…”, Kusun spoke to the crowd, his voice carrying a hint of the rage that simmered beneath.

Amuse me.”


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/06/06 19:20:42


Post by: War Kitten


Guard:

Moon # 1, Isles of Pratt

The nightmare begins as it always does for me.

I’m trapped in the cockpit of my Vendetta, and all around me the skies burn and the corpses of my comrades rain down from the skies. I’m powerless to do anything to help as I watch my regiment die slowly, one by one as they fall to earth. Just as the last corpse impacts the ground with a wet thud that I can somehow hear through my cockpit I’m jerked out of the world of dreams by the impact of a small object on my chest. My eyes snap open and I can now see that the object is my flight helmet, and a second later I notice my co-pilot Jonathon at the doorway to my room. “We gotta go Eve,” he shouts while looking around anxiously “word just came in from the brass, and we got orders to fly. Briefing’s in ten minutes and Taylor will have our hides if we’re late.” Instantly I jolt out of bed and begin hurriedly throwing on my flight suit. Colonel Taylor is usually rather relaxed in his attitude towards us, so if he’s out of whack about something it usually means that the crap is about to flow downhill to the rest of us. In record time my uniform on and I and Jonathon are sprinting down the hall towards our de-facto meeting room. When I get there Colonel Tayor is standing at the front of the room with an expression on his face of grim resolve, like he knows that the gak is about to hit the fan, but he has no choice but to take it and roll with it. My fellow pilots are already standing around the room in small groups, chatting idly while we all wait for the briefing to start. Just as we enter the room Colonel Taylor clears his throat to draw everyone’s attention to him. As Colonel Taylor lays it on us that there is a massive Ork horde approaching the space elevator, the atmosphere in the room begins to change. Where once there was a weary impatience, there is now restrained eagerness. Hunting Orks is our calling, and it is one we take to with gusto. Our mission will be to scout out the main horde and to determine it’s composition so that the relevant information can be relayed back to High Command. After that is done, Taylor tells us with a gleam in his eye, then we have permission to “soften” up the Ork horde. This news is greeted with a round of deafening applause. Immediately afterwards our individual flight orders are transmitted to our data pads, and we all take off at a run towards the air-field. It is only then that I noticed the figure that is standing next to him. Standing just to Colonel Taylor’s right is a silver and black armored figure who he appears to be having a rather intense conversation with. It takes me a moment to recognize the figure as a Space Marine, one of the Angels of Death. But before I can pause to take in the sight, I’m getting shoved along by my co-pilot. “Come on Eve!” he shouts eagerly “Let’s get to it before all the good kills are taken!” His enthusiasm is infectious, and soon I found myself darting down the hallway after him, the confusion over the Marine’s presence being shoved to a dark corner of my mind, to be contemplated at a later date.

The pre-flight checks are done with a fair bit more speed and enthusiasm than normal. Most of the time these checks tend to drag on, as the process of checking every flyer’s readiness for battle is typically a laborious process. But today the pilots and ground crew go about it with an unusual speed. There is a palpable energy to the air that even the simplest of men could pick up on, and it seems to infect everyone with its’ energy. As I finish my pre-flight inspection, making sure to rub the faded nameplate on the side of my craft, I can feel a set of eyes burning into my back. I look over my shoulder just in time to see the same silver and black armored figure from earlier setting down next to the Colonel over the holo-table. Doubtlessly he’s here to offer “advice” to us regarding how to defeat our most hated foe, and I snort derisively as I turn back around. As if we need the help. I rub the nameplate on my Vendetta one more time for good luck, and as always the faded words that spell out “Indomitable” give me some last-minute comfort. One-by-one our assorted craft take to the sky and begin the journey to the last-reported position for the Ork horde. Valkyries and Vendettas settle into formation, while Vultures and a few Thunderbolts on loan from the Navy settle into their escort positions overhead. Then we begin the long journey to the last known location of the Ork Horde.
*Later*
It’s the waiting that always gets me. My squadron (Squadron Alpha), and Squadron Beta are idling nearby whilst the Valkyries and Thunderbolts run recon on the Ork horde to determine their numbers and send that information back to High Command. A vital job to be sure, but the seemingly endless waiting grates on me. Then my vox picks up something unusual, and I lean forward in my chair to listen, the signal isn’t Imperial in nature, as a matter of fact it seems to be coming from the Orks. After listening to the message on repeat for a few minutes, I’m able to discern that it is a message from one of the junior Ork “Meks” to another one informing him that their progress has been impaired, apparently their “Big Mek” has disappeared, and the resulting confusion has slowed the Orks speed tremendously.

A few minutes later a report comes in from the Valkyrie squadron that corroborates the interecepted message from the Orks, the horde is moving at reduced pace, giving our comrades back at the elevator more time to prepare. Now that the Scouting is done, Colonel Taylor gets on the vox and begins to quietly issue orders to us. We are to launch a few bombing runs on the Ork horde to slow their progress even more, and then we are to return to base to re-arm and re-fuel for when the main Ork offensive comes. As one my Squadron and I race towards the Orks, accompanied by Squadron Beta. As we fly targets are marked on our instruments, along with firing solutions and targeting data. Behind me I can hear Jonathon praying to the Emperor, a simple litany taught to Pilots at the beginning of Flight Training. The litany is designed to focus the mind, to ensure that mind and body act as one. Milliseconds can be crucial in a dog-fight, so I join him in the mantra as we draw ever closer to the Orks. Then they come into view, and righteous anger fills my heart as I see the mechanical monstrosities that the Orks have built. Clanking Deff Dreadz stomp alongside Killa Kanz and Gorkanaughts, kicking up a massive cloud of dust that can be seen for miles. How these abominations of metal can even move, let alone operate is beyond me, but the mere sight of them is enough to send a jolt of rage through my brain. And by the muttered curses and oaths that I can hear over the vox I’m not alone in this sentiment. Then my vox clicks once more, and Colonel Taylor issues the one, and only, order that he needs to for this engagement. “Now” he orders quietly, and then all hell breaks loose. As one my squadron mates and I tip our crafts into the perfect angle for an attack run, and a hail of laser beams shoot out of our crafts and engulf the Orks. Several Killa Kanz detonate explosively, hurling bits of shrapnel and flesh around as their death throes shred many of the Orks standing nearby, and a few Deff Dreadz also lurch as our lascannnons make a mockery of their crude steel plating. I add my own Vendetta’s fire into the mix, and 6 more beams of coherent light leap from my craft and impact on one of the clanking Deff Dreadz, which explodes in a ball of blinding light. As my squadron pulls back up and away from the mob, the second hammer blow comes down as Squadron Beta zooms in right on our heels to keep the Orks on the back foot. Again, many beams of light shoot out and more Orks die as walker after walker detonates under the deluge of fire that is coming from the heavens. It is a beautiful sight, almost as if the hand of the Emperor is coming down and smashing the Orks for their audacity in invading a world of the Imperium. As Squadron Beta pulls out of their attack run the third, and final, blow is struck. Several Valkyries and Thunderbolts zoom over the Orks head, their weapons spitting death. This time, a hail of bolt shells and rockets engulfs the Orks, sending bodies and bits of metal flying, tearing ragged chunks out of the horde. This seems to be the final straw for the Orks, and they mill around in confusion as the larger of the beasts attempt to exert a modicum of control over their lesser comrades, an attempt that is doomed to fail. As we fly back towards base, the vox is filled with cheers as we celebrate our first real victory over the Orks in this system. We gave the Orks a bloody nose that they’re sure to not forget for a long time, and I feel a sense of deep satisfaction fill me. I did my job and put down some xenos, the Emperor is pleased with our work this day. I’m sure of it. Behind me I hear Jonathon cheering along with the rest of them, and I turn my craft to face towards home.



Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/06/06 23:50:37


Post by: Drakka77


Post redacted by the Ordo Chronos


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/06/07 01:44:28


Post by: TheEyeOfNight



++LUNA EPSILON//HIVE COGGER++

The retreating cultists threw a makeshift barricade together along one of the mid-level streets. It was a canyon of a road, braced on either side by towering hive dwellings from which the cultists could rain down fire. At least until the enemy gained access and the complex would become a labyrinth of death and violence. But it was as good as any other chokepoint, and it was here that Mordecai chose to make his stand.

The barricade was formed of broken stones, an array of debris, and no small number of corpses piled into the mix. Behind it, tattered and panicked rows of cultists knelt behind the feeble protection, reloading their weapons and trying to pray away the sight that advanced down the road towards them.

A Malcador tank, trembling the ground, ran ahead of the penal legion forces, taking up the majority of the road and serving as an enormous shield for the forces advancing behind it. Its giant gun boomed repeatedly, blowing holes in the makeshift barricade and showering them all with bits of shrapnel and gore. Mordecai raised his shield to deflect a smoldering piece of iron, and leveled his hand towards the tank, mentally willing the Brotherhood to stand and fight in the face of the iron behemoth.

“Hold! By the gods themselves, they will advance no further!”

He felt a hundred eyes turn towards him, and a cold clench in his throat as death incarnate roared down the street. He had stood by Lazarus's side for years, but had never stood in the Father's shoes before the fury of the Imperium. He grabbed the nearest cultists and threw them back towards the line, running along the line and shouting at the cultists. His shouts caught their ears, and they faltered in their retreat.

“Hold! If it costs us every bone, body, and soul on this line, they will come no further than this!”

The cultists regained the defensive line, firing blindly but in massive amounts. The street filled with the chatter of guns and the boom of cannon fire. Mordecai planted a foot onto the barricade, feeling a surge of invincibility as one of the Malcador's shells seared overhead, missing their line by a matter of feet.

“No further!”

One hand-made missile, trailing coiling streams of acrid smoke and etched with a crude “FETH” on the side, spiraled wildly through the air. It screamed, whistled, and twisted into the tank's treads, ricocheting into a socket through either dumb luck or profane design. The tank's treads exploded out to one side, slewing the titanic war machine to the left. The barrel of its gun slammed into the street ahead of it, and the beast's momentum brought it nearly to overturn.

A heavy stubber round blew out the top hatch, following by a hail of merciless gunfire and a rudimentary grenade. The inside of the tank became at once a storm of hellfire and short-lived screams as it came to its final rest in the center of the road. The cultists sent up a roar of triumph, setting themselves firmly against the barricade and launching their arsenal at the approaching foe. Behind the wreckage, the penal legionnaires fell back, firing off blind shots over their shoulder as they retreated back to their fortified line.

Mordecai raised his fist, reveling in the surge of emotion and violence which rose about him like a fire. It felt different, it was a physical sensation of a rising tide, . Briefly Mordecai wondered if that was the Immaterium itself, answering the flood of fire and ruin which had erupted in the street. It was intoxicating, and he grinned behind his mask, wondering vaguely if the feeling was connected to the defiling ritual taking place in the sub-streets below. The cultists began to reload, and he let out a commanding shout.

“Hold them here! Not a step further!”



++LUNA EPSILON//MT GORGON++

Lazarus drew his hand back from the dragon's head, lowering his head and pointing towards the entrance to the cavern.

“Brother of the true gods. Come, we need your fire.”

The beast drew its head back, snorting hot, dry breath violently as it backed away. Lazarus clenched one fist, he did not have time to argue while the hive was under attack, but deference was the key to survival in these matters. Again he motioned to the entrance of the cave.

“Come!”

A disembodied voice roared into his mind, a wave of authority that nearly drove him backwards. It echoed within the bones of his skull with each syllable. IT IS NOT YET TIME”

He lowered his arm, meeting the dragon's gaze with a clenched jaw and a dutiful nod, calmly accepting the answer. Lazarus was a true servant of the chaos gods, and if they demanded he stand alone in this fight, he would do so.

“Father!” The Drachen's voice echoed in the cavern, the brave soul having come as far into the mountain as he dared. “A call from the Hive! We have...we have visitors!”

The dragon slowly raised its head, melting back into the oppressive shadows of the mountain's heart. Lazarus allowed himself a small smile, and backed away into the cavern entrance. Perhaps they would not be as alone as he thought.


Spoiler:
Minor Victory, deadlocked the Inquisition for the time being. And I appear to have company.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/06/07 02:32:01


Post by: Drakka77


Into the Breech: Deployment of the 487th Lunar Venatorii Panther Calvary Regiment: Outside Hive Cogger

Down in a large Devourer Dropship, the Regiment landed as a whole. Quiet this landing was not, and the Regiment moved its array of animals. The roar of Wyrms and engines could be heard as well as the neighs of horses. Over Two thousand men and women disembarked off the transport. The Various variations of Turoxes and Chimeras, rolled off the ramps as the beast masters calmed and gave over their charges to the riders. Motorcycles of all sorts high tailed down the ramps around the others. Each Company and Battalion moved into a battle line formation. Several of the Chimeras looked odd with extra antennas.

The cultist's vox communications started going in and out as static flooded the air waves. This regiment knew its business even as disorganized it looked to outsiders. There was yipping and yelling as people rode to their designated spots. Over a Hundreds of Horses, Wyrms, Bikes, Buggies, and Sentinels made up this Calvary regiment. Everyone was wearing a dizzing array of leathers and Carapace armor. The coloration was Dusty reds and charcoal blacks in a variety of different patterns. They all wore patches of a roaring Panther head. Almost before the regiment was completely formed a Flight of Wyrms took off to enter the hive. Their job was reconnaissance and maybe a little bit of dropping bombs. The horses were the next to leave, and these left in total silence. They left in squads to approach the city by stealth, they were to hit points all along the walls of the hive. This was to be a multi front battle. The lightest of the army was taking the furthest points. They were going to appear to be a much larger force and they were already pretty big. Only the Command Salamanders and their escort bikes were left of these companies as they rolled out.

The next leaving was a great split of forces as what looked like two full battalions of Buggies, Sentinels, Motorcycles, and Salamanders Split to either side of the hive with their orders. They we to hunt down and cut supply line and wreck any resistance. This hive will be subjugated to the Imperium. They were going to use every trick in the book to do so. 1st Battalion went left while 2nd Battalion went right. They moved in a kind of synchronized movement that spoke of deep planning. They were to be a siege force.

The last to move out was Fourth Battalion. These were the Chimeras of War. Four of the five companies moved out as one mass towards the center of the hive and the main entry way. They were heavily armed and ready to be in the thickest fighting. This was the Armored Calvary section. Armed with Multilasers, Autocannons, Heavy bolters, and Storm Bolters, they prepared to shred any resistance. Any may face one of these forces but all fighting like they were makes it hard to form a solid line against them.

The ones that were left behind immediately started building a basecamp in case of a long siege. These were the medics, the engiseers, and all the support troops. They could fight but their purpose was to make their fighting arm more effective.

Immediately upon reaching the city 3rd and 4th Battalions ran afoul of the traitors to the Imperium. The narrow passages of the Hive provided only so many avenues of attack and the enemy was prepared. Immediately the Chimeras came under heavy fire and small groups of isolated horse troops were disappearing. The Regiment had grown too confident that they were facing the normal disorganized rabble of civilian cultists. But it turned out that a clever man might be leading them. Several have died or disappeared. Even a couple of Chimeras have been damaged to the point of retreat.

It was chaos of warfare that ensued though that was ironic on who was causing that. It was if the entire hive was attacking them. Missiles and bullets flew everywhere. Several Companies and platoons became isolated and had to retreat on their own, taking casualties. Guardsmen and women were not only getting injuries but dying and having to be left behind as they retreated to open other paths. The wyrms unfortunately didn't see how well placed the barricades were nor spotted the cultists who were wearing dark enough clothing to blend into the dusk attack.

The Samaritans of the Support Company immediately rushed out to save who they could. The cries and screams of the injured could be heard as rescue operations occurred.

This would not be the end of the regiment though. The first forces pulled back but made way to find new routes of attack. Colonel Errmanno himself called off further attacking until other routes were found. They caused some damage but not much and definitely not enough.

" You Slackers. Is this how the best Calvary unit in the Imperium performs. Retrieve your wounded get back here and then attack again but this time use your damn heads," Colonel Errmanno Raven was an overly large man, but his bellow was loud especially over the vox. He was of average height and a slim build, though he was defined in his musculature from years of hard training as Guardsmen. He rose through the ranks as a survivor, and he made sure his men were intelligent, independent, dependable soldiers that could survive as well. He knew not all would make it but some and if he did his job right most will. His high fade cut hair bristled with sweat from his earlier attentions of taking care of his own beast, not an easy task. He was originally a Wyrm rider himself and still was, with a beast that he raised and hatched himself. He had a reputation for being an analyst and being courageous when called upon. His leathers were well worn and only the Dark Green outline of the Black Panther patch denoted his rank above the rest of the regiment. Another thing odd about him was his connections to the Forgeworld that supplied his men with equipment. His Brother was a Magos there, and his brother supplied him with a piece of equipment that usually go to Skitarii to ride into battle with to protect him, A Taser Lance. Otherwise he was equipped fair average for a Colonel, Including a Ceres Pattern Bolt pistol, Light Power Armor, Mordian pattern power sword, and an array other devices and weapons.. He also had bionics but that wasn't apparent to the naked eye so much as his brother did him well at getting his brother the best he could offer. That was one of the reasons his regiment was chose to escort a Forgeworld Expeditionary Fleet. He had them trained on their homeworld in the same sector, where these beasts roamed and only the best could tame one.

Spoiler:
Roll was for defeat


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/06/07 16:54:09


Post by: Palleus


The air was filled with screams as Hannibal was operated on.

In the safety of his workshop, he had managed to put together a suitable arm together from the scrap of the battle, taking one of the Kan’s smaller buzz saws as a replacement for a the hand, before the loss of blood required immediate surgery. Immediately he wished for a well-practiced doc at his side, and instead, had to talk his lieutenants though the basics of the procedure himself. Thankfully, the procedure was simple. Unfortunately it was also incredibly painful.

Ace held down Hannibal as IronGore struck more exposed nerves with the tools, causing Hannibal to scream in agony and clench Ace’s arm hard enough to draw blood.

“Zog it, Gore! Be careful!” Snapped Ace as he strained to keep Hannibal still.

“I am bein’ careful, ya git.” IronGore said in as calm a manner as possible, keeping his hands steady as he attached the arm. “I gotta hit tha’ nerves. It’s how tha’ thing is hooked up. ‘Ere comes another.”

Hannibal stiffened and cried out again, gnashing his teeth together and stifling his cries though gritted teeth.

“Well don’ hit any more of ‘em then ya’ have ta’. ‘E’s already gone delirious on me. Asked me to go find some squiggoths.”

IronGore paused for a moment, his green brown wrinkling in confusion. “We don’t got any squiggoths.”

“I know. Dey’re only on tha’ big moon, an I don’ ‘fink we’z gunna-“

Hannibal screamed again, and latched onto Ace’s arm with renewed fervor, who let out his own howl of pain in turn.

“Oi! Warn me next time!” Ace barked. “If ‘dis goes on much more, I’z gunna need a new zoggin’ arm!”

“Almost done.”

“Good.” Ace replied, as he readjusted his grip on Hannibal. Silently, he prayed to Mork that it truly would be over soon, and that Guts was having a better night then they were.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Guts took a moment to categorize this night as the worst night he had ever lived though.

If he would live through it.

Ordered to tail the retreating forces of Skull Eater, Guts and a handful of commandos set out with high hopes, and fantastic initial results. Not only did they find the retreating army, but they also laid eyes on Skull Eater himself, confirming his survival at the battle for Iron Skull Fortress. Unfortunately this gift of good fortune turned into a Pandora’s Box, as several of the commandos were blinded by glory lust, and decided to take down Skull Eater themselves.

Armed with javelins against the whole army’s worth of firepower, the commandos never stood a chance. The orks were cut down only a few steps into their initial charge. Guts, and the few commandos with enough sense not to go through with such a suicidal plan were soon spotted, and rushed to escape. It was now that Guts was oddly thankful for the years spent hiding from Neroz’s search parties, as it gave him the skill and experience needed for a chance of survival in the ensuing chase.

His fellow commandos had no such experience.

Bullets sprayed all around the jungle at the fleeing commandos darting though the trees as a section of Skull Eater’s surviving horde perused them. By sheer numbers, the bullets cut down the commandos, leaving none but Guts alive. Guts stayed still, hidden in the branches of a tree, and silently wishing for Skull Eater’s boys to leave. One by one, they did, until only a small handful remained, but as their numbers decreased, their wariness increased as their eyes darted back and forth watching for any movement. Guts slowly pulled out a javelin, as he eyed the group again. A single boy seemed warier than the rest, and was quick to point his rocket launcher at the slightest shift in breeze.

Guts froze as the wind unexpectedly picked up, tossing the leaves back and forth. The rocket launcher boy looked up, his eyes caught by the motion, but now were fixated on Guts. With a sneer, he aimed at Guts and fired.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Hannibal stood at the wall, his mechanical arm was fully functional, and hung at his side as he surveyed the battle damage. The bodies had been taken away, stripped of all weapons and armor before being tossed into the burial pits. The scrap had been sorted into massive piles all around, but still left in the courtyard.

Hannibal stared at the gaping hole in the wall. The planes’ collision not only ripped the wall open, but the shock of it broke apart many of the metal supports, rendering the front wall nearly useless to another powerful attack. The scrap that surrounded him was useless for such a task. The supports needed to be thick, and forged that way. This scrap was too thin. And patching the wall together with it would be a waste of good material for a wall of subpar quality. The wrong material for the wrong job.

Looking out though the jagged hole, Hannibal saw a figure approaching slowly. In a few minutes, Hannibal could make out that it was Guts, limping back towards the fortress, a number of shrapnel wounds in his leg. After a few moments of conversation, Hannibal ordered Guts to rest. Alone again, Hannibal sighed. The commando’s failure was unfortunate, but Skull Eater’s demise was required. He would be a thorn in the Iron Horde’s side as long as he lived, and he had already lived too long.

Hannibal turned to the grog hall to rally the boys. They would have a busy night before the next morning.

Come sunrise, the Iron Horde would march again.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/06/07 19:22:30


Post by: Robin5t


Feubrn raised his eyebrow behind his mask as he caught sight of Imryll, Dranc and Fallacy sat around a small table, the latter holding a small information crystal while reading what seemed to be a hard-back paper book.

“What are you three doing?” he asked as he headed over, “Is that the book you brought back from the ruins?”

“Yes,” Imryll nodded, “Fallacy has been working on the language for three days now.”

Feubryn blinked. “Three days?” he said in shock, “What could be so difficult to understand? 'Me smash demon' means they fought the ruinous powers, 'me shoot xeno' means they fought an alien race, and 'Me kill heretic' means they fought each other.”

“Incredibly enough,” Dranc mused, “Their language actually seems to have somewhat more in the way of nuance, if Fallacy is to be believed.”

“But it's still the deluded scribblings of a human with a lump of ceramic metal where his brain should be,” the Great Harlequin chuckled, “It can't be that difficult to decode.”

Fallacy looked up. “I have spoken,” she began quietly, “In more languages than there are stars in the sky. I have hissed hysterics to the warrior-covens of the Sslyth. I have told tales in the Eastern fringe, in the language of the Tau. I have growled the dead language of the Krork at their degenerate ancestors and narrated to the Necrons in tongues they have not spoken since before they were made of metal. But these human languages,” she took a deep breath, “All. Sound. The Khaine. Damned. Same!”

Imryll and Dranc inched away slightly.

“I mean, really!” Fallacy continued ranting, “This language manages to use completely different grammatical norms to dozens of other languages spoken by these squabbling apes, but still manages to sound just like them in practice! How is that possible? How do they tell the difference? It completely throws off my attempts to translate it because I keep mixing words and sounds up with one of the other barely-constructed verbal codes they have the nerve to refer to as languages, so I end up with sentences that make no sense!”

“How curious,” Dranc sounded amused, “Twice now, we have found ourselves confounded by the simplicity of humans.”

“It makes sense, I suppose,” Imryl agreed, “As a race, we mastered complexity long ago. Simplicity is the only challenge left to us.”

“There has been a disproportionate amount of Eldar who have thwarted themselves by over-complicating things,” Feubryn stroked his chin, before turning to Fallacy. “But how do you know so many languages?”

“I hear my local library is rather well-regarded,” she deadpanned.

“Fair,” he acknowledged the point.

Their discussion was put on hold as Cuddio appeared behind Feubryn, the Master Mime's mask showing a face full of urgency.

“...” He looked at the four expectantly.

“You have news?”

“...” Cuddio nodded.

“Those bugs we planted are already showing their worth, I see,” Feubryn stroked his chin, “We need to expand that network, as soon as possible. What news is there, my friend?”

“...”

“That is troubling,” Dranc cut in, “That space elevator is the only means the Imperial forces have of getting to the moon.”

“Yes,” Feubryn frowned, “Troubling indeed. Was there anything else?”

“...” Cuddio shrugged.

“It's fine,” Feubryn shook his head, “We could not expect to get much information from an out-of-the-way city like the one we have infiltrated. Even knowing that there is a large Ork attack massing against the Spaceport and that some form of unified Imperial response is mustering is enough. We know that the vast majority of the Imperial forces will be concentrated there,” he looked at the others, “We need to consider our next move.”

“...” Cuddio reasoned.

“A valid plan,” Feubryn agreed, “Taking the opportunity while they are distracted to expand our information network and infiltrate them further could grant a considerable intelligence boon.”

“However, it means we are relying on the Imperium to win their battle,” Dranc countered, “If this Ork assault is such a grave threat, we could consider assisting, to ensure there are more bodies to throw at the real threats.”

“Also reasonable,” Fuebryn nodded.

“On the other hand,” Imryll cut in, “The Imperials are not likely to tolerate our presence here once they learn of us. Perhaps it would be better to let them bleed themselves against the Orks so they are in less of a position to waylay us in the future.”

“Practical as always,” the Great Harlequin complimented, “Fallacy? Do you have any input?”

“No, this is ultimately your show, High Avatar,” Fallacy shook her head as she continued to pore over the book, “I will follow your lead on this, whatever your decision… on that note, I have it!”

“You have translated it?” Imryll asked curiously.

“Yes,” Fallacy began to speed-read through the book, “Hmm. Mostly just records of battles by a Space Marine chapter called the Blood Dragons. They have killed plenty of Orks, and also an unfortunate number of our Craftworld kin,” several sets of unseen eyes narrowed behind masks, “Oho. This is interesting,” she began to read aloud.

“987, M32, Ichabar.

In an effort to increase our pool of initiates Chapter Master Kronmen had ordered me to the feudal world of Ichabar. The Codex places no hold on how many Neophytes we may boast so we intend to take full advantage. Ichabar had been classified as a level three death world plagued by feral green skins, a perfect training ground for my company. As such I took the entirety of the tenth with me.

The first few weeks were fine Bolter drills, jungle training, mock battles however things turned when I got a report from Sargent Tecumseh who was out training the scouts how to be proper riders. They had come across odd ruins; they did not seem Imperial in nature. Curious and adventurous I ordered squads Dread Wyvern and Steel Drake to join me and Tecumseh’s squad in investigating these ruins.

We cut through the dense foliage with our combat blades and entered the mouth of this tomb. The catacombs were grim the air stirred with a horrid wrongness however I would not leave this place before knowing what made it so onward I pressed. We approached a hall on each side was a glass vat caked with dust. I approached the glass seal and wiped away the ancient debris and saw a visage. It was a skeletal thing made of steel it eyes long since dead.

Believing there was still more to learn we pressed onward until we entered what seemed to be a throne room. Another iron skeleton sat atop and throne looking down upon us around us were over a dozen more iron corpses. At our feet was a green glass ankh I took a step forward and then something happened. The glass Ankh flickered to life and the green glass veins that fed to it began to glow and began feeding to the iron men. I watched as the king atop the iron throne as his eyes came to life in a aura of green and his undead guard too arose.

We fought a long and bloody war for Ichabar one that cost me my eye and the lives of far too many of my charges. We called for reinforcements from Drekkar and we were answered by the 1st and 6th. We forced the machines back to their tombs and we slew every last one of them, we destroyed their lair. May the universe forget these loathsome machines.”

They all contemplated the words, silently.

“They fought the Necrons,” Imryll sighed, “As if the Great Enemy and the Great Devourer were not enough, the thought of having to contend with the oldest of our foes once more fills me with dread.”

“Anything else?” Feubryn asked.

“Yes, actually. Here's an interesting tidbit,” the Solitaire began to read aloud again.

“219, M33.

Master of the Forge Worjech Ivo has returned from his quest to Ironwrath. He says his search for the ancient forge has been completed. The world was said to be infested with the filth of green skin with the assistance of the Mechanicus Master Ivo purged the world of the orks and the Mechanicus has already began restoring the manufactorums. The Mechanicus has promised to keep us supplied so long as this world stands.

Among the many things Ivo returned with was a sword, a saber that was said to belong to the White Scars Captain Naran Vettar. He presented the blade to Chapter master as Kronmen’s gene seed could be traced to the famed Naran. Kronmen felt some guilt in taking the blade as he felt it should go back to the white scars. After some light convincing on the part of Worjech the Chapter Master decided to keep the blade.”

“I'm not sure I understand,” Feubryn tilted his head, “What is so interesting about some human's barely-forged machete?”

“It holds symbolic value to the Imperium, especially the Space Marines, and it may still be here,” Dranc cut in, “If we found it, it could be useful as a bargaining tool with the Imperials.”

“Perhaps,” Feubryn sounded unconvinced.

“The last relatively interesting part seems to cover the chapter's end,” Fallacy continued.

“287, M33,

This will in all likelihood be my final entry as the orks have come for us. I have fought the orks for over half a millennium and now I will meet my end at their hands. The ork warlord announces himself as Dekrun BlitzaStinka. Were it this filthy creature alone we would have no cause for concern, but the ork has rallied untold millions of its kin their ships block the sun itself.

Chapter Master Kronmen has gone missing and the council of Dragons are arguing over how to proceed. Captain Shang of the second would have us fight to the last and forbid the orks from taking our home uncontested, Captain Helmvar of the 8th would have us flee to ensure our chapter lives on. We can not reach a decision I fear the orks will be at the gates of Drake’s point at any moment. All we can do is hope for a miracle.”

She looked up at them, “The rest of the pages have been torn out.”

“Hmm,” Imryll seemed deep in thought, “That is interesting. The part about the Chapter Master going missing.”

“How so?” Feubryn asked.

“One of the things our network picked up in Ros Hannoi, High Avatar,” Imryll explained, “Local human folklore has it that there is a vengeful spirit lingering at the peaks of the mountains on the satellite they call Luna Epsilon.”

“You believe this 'vengeful spirit' could be the missing Chapter Master mentioned,” Dranc finished.

“I believe it is a possibility,” Imryll corrected him, “One that we should investigate further before we consider committing to it. But if there truly is a seven-millennia old spirit, or even a human there, the things they could tell us about this world and it's secrets would far outshine any dusty old tomes.”

“Hmm...” Feubryn stroked his chin in thought, “I will need to think on this. Fallacy, for now, I want you to see about creating a translation matrix for this language. I imagine it will come in useful in the future. Everyone else... stay alert, and stay prepared.”

Spoiler:
Old book translation victory. Truly, the hardest battle we have fought yet,


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/06/07 21:38:46


Post by: jhe90


Volund approached the old dreadnought with reverence and respect, the old veteran was more lucid now its miu was repaired and multiple minor systems restored that had long failed and fallen in to disrepair and decay of the ages. Its booming vox arrays now recalibrated it finaly spoke. "you bear ice, you bear the frost. The time of ice and fire has come. " volund looked down at the hell frost pistol, a relic only a few iron preists could maintain. "what do you speak of, the old legends of the Wotan?" "wotan , they once served the dragons. Loyal. Lords of men upon crion. They remember the past. No beware the great fire that will burn hotter than all others. The fire that will turn even the mountains to ash. " the dreadnought spoke and then decided to hold its silence.

The fire has come for crion. Ice has come for crion. The battle has begun.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/06/12 09:31:30


Post by: chazz huggins


3434 watched the Malcador Tank explode taking with it a dozen convicts and a arbite handler, it was no sooner that Arbitrator Halouck shouted to his charges “Get to cover.” And so the penal legionnaires slowly began to be pushed back by the barrage of cultist fire. In less than a minute the penal guardsmen were either behind some form of cover or dead. From the wreckage of the Malcador spilled fourth a single storm trooper the wounded tank operator clutched his side as he fell into cover behind his wrecked vehicle. 3434 looked over to the wounded storm trooper and then to 1597. “I’m gonna need some covering fire.” 1597 looked at the storm trooper “You gonna risk your ass for that feth wipe?” 34 growled “just do it.” 1597 grumbled before shouting “COVERING FIRE!” from behind cover the legionnaires began firing blindly at the cultist’s postion giving 3434 enough time to rush over to the wounded henchmen. The carapace clad trooper grunted in pain as 34 lifted him over his shoulder and carried him to safety. 3434 sat the trooper down by 9176 who once ran a humble clinic on some hive a million light-years away. The medic removed a syringe from his trappings injected the trooper with it, the tank operator seemed to calm as the liquid hit his veins. Arbitrator Halouck spoke into his wrist “Magister 5 is down we require reinforcements.” No response

The suppressive fire seemed to anger the cultists as their auto guns seemed to strike with renewed wroth. The rain of bullets began to eat away at the legionnaire’s cover and several more prisoners were picked off. Halouck shouted “This is operator Halouck Penal squad 37582 requesting immediate assistance, taking heavy casualties.” One of the prisoners began to flee, but before Halouck could detonate his collar he was mowed down by the hail of fire. A bellowing voice came over Halouck’s vox “37582 stand by for deep strike” not a second later eleven grey knight terminators appeared from nothing.

The chaotic flow of battle came to a sudden halt as the sons of Titan took the field. They took their first steps towards the chaotic encampment without breaking formation after their second step one of the braver cultists began to fire. The bullets never reached the grey knights adamantium plate as the shield generator installed in the crux terminates deflected primitive projectile. With another step the rest of the cultists began raining auto fire upon the grey knights to no better effect. At the head of the formation Paladin Utilitarius drew his nemesis force sword from the mag lock on his back. The paladin saw the fear in the cultists eyes and grinned to himself as they unloaded their weak munitions on them. Utilitarius rose his sword and shouted as he charged “For the Emperor!” and his fellows returned with a glorious call that struck a righteous fear into the hearts of those sworn to ruinous power.

The cultists broke ranks before the Grey Knights struck at the first of them. Those who were unlucky enough to be on the front lines were cleaved by the Grey Knights psychic blades. The cultists threw their arms up in resistance but met their grizzly end. The whirlwind of halberds devastated the cultists of the flayed legion.

Utilitarius looked up the boulevard as removed his blade from a traitor’s corpse. He saw a massive human firing a double barrel shotgun at the cowards fleeing the fight. The cultist champion bore many scars on his breast, he wore cargo pants like those worn by the PDF, a pair of blood stained boots, and a gas mask. In the champion’s left hand was the sawed off and in the right hand a massive sickle sword. The cultists feared their overlord enough to stand their ground. The champion saw Utilitarius and raised his blade at him.

Apothecary Myrmidon raised his wrist mounted storm-bolter at the champion but Utilitarius lowered his arm, “I will show this one the Emperor’s fury personally.” Utilitarius flourished his sword to remove the coagulating blood on the sword’s flat. The champion hoisted his sword over his head and charged for the Paladin. Utilitarius gritted his teeth and tightened his hands around his sword. The cultist had jury-rigged his rusted salvaged blade to have a power-field capacitator at its hilt, but the ruinous power had wormed its way into the once sacred technology as the once blue blade glowed a unholy blood red. Force sword met power sword and bolts of power crackled and crashed as the blades collided. Thee cultist was by far stronger than your average human, but Utilitarius was abnormally strong even by the stoic standards of astartes. With a ground shaking roar Utilitarius struck at the champion. The warrior of chaos attempted to block the blow but his curved blade shattered as the grey knight brought his weapon to bare. The blade continued downward diagonally parting the champion from his left shoulder to his waist.

Utilitarius roared as the heretic’s corpse dropped to its knees. The regrouped cultists broke once more and fled deeper into their territory. Utilitarius spoke to his men “Let them flee, they have no true escape, let them spread word of what happened here.” Utilitarius looked back at the burning tank and dead penal guard, it would be some time before the human forces are ready to push, it would be unwise to continue without their support. Utilitarius opened a vox channel with inquisitor Randall “The heretics flees.”


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/06/13 17:47:16


Post by: 2BlackJack1


The doors into the inner sanctum of Sunstrike Cadre Command slid open, and a Fire Warrior emerged onto the deck. Holographic projections illuminated the demi-spherical chamber, bathing the walls in pale blue light. Few heads turned to face the messenger, with most of the occupants working intently on their consoles. Very few of the workers were actually Tau - only about a quarter of them had their grey skin lit up by the screens. Various Human and Jokaero auxiliaries instead operated the devices, monitoring the vox channels and feed from other Tau recon parties. As he marched up the rows of screens, the Fire Warrior glanced across at various streams coming in.

---os Hannoi taskforce secure, maintaining covert obs---

---ar. Waaagh! Hannibal suffering major losses - enga---

---'vesa'El Vandred reporting all-clear in AHC-02. Ti---

---ack Water Bastion remain unaware of Taskforce Ultr---

The rows ended abruptly, feeding into a centre node. A holographic map of Crion hung in the empty space, with icons marking along it's unreal surface. Fio'El Mirrorstone rose from her chair, and address the Fire Warrior. The trooper saluted.
"At ease. You've no need to salute, trooper."

"Understood, Sub-Comman-"
"Don't. I'm just the base commander until Skyhunter gets back. Just serving."

The trooper shifted awkwardly, cut off and hesitant. Mirrorstone sighed. She had gone several hours without her last flooding of stimulants - she made a mental note to dismiss herself from her station. She already knew she'd doubled her recommended quota.
"As you were, Shas'la. What was it you were reporting?"

-------------------------------------

"A Kroot?" Skyhunter's voice was laced with tension.

"A Shaper, commander." Mirrorstone spoke through gritted teeth. "Our outer defences picked it up. It's heading straight toward the coordinates where we asked the Imperial delegation to meet."

"Have you considered that this Shaper might be an emissary of the Tau Empire? Do we know anything about his arrival?"

"Nothing. He comes without a retinue, or any kind of support element. He could be with the Empire, but I don't think so. This is a diplomatic mission, sir." Mirrorstone sighed. "Truthfully, commander, I don't know."

"Why did our drone defences not blow this Kroot into pieces?"

Mirrorstone turned her gaze from Skyhunter. "The marker drones marked it, but I didn't authorize a missile strike. I didn't know what to-"
"Fio'El, you are in command of the garrison. You command the cadre in the absence of myself, or Sub-Commander Vandred. I need you to assert yourself. Did you do the right thing?"

She faced Skyhunter again. "Yes. I did, Shas'O."

Skyhunter's face was obscured, but she felt a grin spread over his grizzled face. "Good. What is your plan?"

"Aren't you going to give me orders, sir?"

"That is my order. Your plan - you are in command, Fio'El. Tell me your plan."

Mirrorstone straightened up, and broadened her shoulders out. She was easily one of the physically largest Tau in the cadre, having been tempered by constructing and dismantling the various outposts and fortifications Sunstrike Cadre had needed in their crusade from the Empire. Her hands cemented behind her back.

"I'll see what this Kroot wants. If he poses a threat to the cadre, or brings the Empire on us, I will ensure he doesn't leave in one piece."

-------------------------------------

Ta'lok's whipcord limbs propelled him through the woodland. Up ahead, in a vast glade, the ramparts of the Tau base stood erect from the tree stumps. The Shaper halted, sidling up to an ironwood tree. His keen eyes meticulously analysed the situation. The gap between the camp and the woodland was barren. The grass just short enough to deny cover, the gap too wide to sprint. They'd see him coming. A rush of chemicals worked through his body as he watched the camp. Why was he afraid? He wasn't here to fight - just an emissary of his employer. So why did he feel so naked?

Thoughts suppressed by the sprint through the forest came bounding up. He was expendable - why would Paynne care if he was killed off? His pack of Kroot would be told about how their Shaper's hubris got him killed - the Tau would not recognise Ta'lok as the Gue emissary, and the Imperium would not care a jot. Ta'lok considered returning to Paynne, and telling him how the Tau were a menace to the Imperial forces. Sure, the Imperium would lose hundreds of men, and the Tau would be wiped out. Did Ta'lok care?
The Shaper looked again at the ramparts. Two soldiers approached eachother, and laughed together. When they removed their helms, Ta'lok saw one grey face, and a pink one. A Tau and a Human. There was no difference aside from that. Unity. Comradery. If the Tau weren't that xenophobic, maybe he'd stand a chance. 'What could possibly go wrong?' Ta'lok thought.

He edged one gnarled foot into the open glade, and kept marching into the open space. Immediately, the ramparts were alive with troopers, scrambling into firing slits, and readying weapons. The Human and Tau warriors knocked shoulders and stared Ta'lok down. The tree stumps around the glade split open and marker drones dived around Ta'lok, like sharks circling their prey. Ta'lok kept walking until he was mere metres away from the walls. A stocky Tau marched to meet him, staring at the Kroot from the walls. She was tired - Ta'lok could smell it.

"Halt, Kroot. State your name, allegiance, and your business with Sunstrike Cadre. Make it quick."

Ta'lok stared the Tau in the eyes, not daring to look down, yet daring the commander to do exactly that. He wasn't surprised when she didn't. Intimidation. Ta'lok thought, A tactic many use, but it can be so easy to shatter. A direct route will be best.

"Shaper Ta'lok, working under Governor Paynne of Crion. A name you know well, for better or worse. As for my business, the Governor has given me a variety of missions in my time on Crion. To get to the point, I am sent here to negotiate with the leader of your cadre, and reach terms both parties find agreeable." At the mention of not serving under the Empire, a few of the soldiers' shoulders slackened, yet their fingers remained on their triggers. They needed convincing. "I have proof that I work for the governor, and am no spy for the Empire. If you'd let me grab it." Ta'lok waited for a nod from the Tau in front of him, which reluctantly came. The Shaper slowly pulled out a small item from his pocket, and held it in the air for the Tau to see. It didn't take long for her to recognize it as the bug she had planted in the governor's room to listen in on his conversations. "I apologize for the property damage, but it was not where it belonged. So, I brought it home. Now, I don't believe I caught your name." Ta'lok hoped that she was willing enough to hand that out; he needed a foothold if he could get any leeway in a debate, and it would be a small start.

She was silent for a moment, as if deciding whether or not to address his request. "Fio'el Mirrorstone." she barked, "Kroot, come inside. We need a few words with you." Ta'lok nodded, and followed after the retinue of armed guards.

"We will not stand idle if any Imperial makes a move against us. We will not throw the first punch, but I promise to you Ta'lok that we will throw the last." Mirrorstone growled, pounding her fist against the table. "I'll put it simply. Leave us alone, do not interfere with us, and we won't bother you."

Ta'lok nodded slowly, "Paynne has no interest in attacking you. He has his own matters to attend to, and has no wish to start a war with the Tau. Nor does he want to let loose other Imperials upon you, but he was very specific when he says that he will not tolerate you making Crion a permanent home for your cadre. He will allow you to live here for the time being, but you must move on eventually. He also wants your cadre to not make itself a target, or he will have no choice but to take a hostile approach." Ta'lok looked at Mirrorstone's eyes, trying to find any signs of a reaction from her, yet only anger and determination showed. Impressive, few can hide their emotions so well, yet there is still the scent of tiredness, mixed with doubt, perhaps. "So, it seems we understand each other, to an extent then? No war, and no stepping on one another's toes."

Mirrorstone nodded, "I do have an offer for you, Ta'lok, and your kindred. I make this offer only once, the Skyhunter Cadre would like a pair of eyes and ears within the Imperium. If you tell us what the Imperials are up to, we will make sure you are well rewarded, and your supplies of munitions do not run short. Regardless, assuming our relation with Paynne does not falter, we can provide you a shelter in case the Imperium casts you aside."

Ta'lok considered this offer for a moment, toying with the idea like a cat does with a defeated mouse. He chose his words carefully, "I will provide information about Imperial activities, but I am not one for backstabbing allies. I will not provide information for the sole purpose of harming my employers, but there are still things I can share that you may find interesting. Be warned that most of the Imperials are not accepting of my kind, and refused my presence at their latest meeting between leaders. Some even reached for weapons, so I doubt I will have updated reports on every faction," Ta'lok smiled, "unless Paynne finds himself generous with his own information, of course."

Mirrorstone nodded again, and gestured to the guards behind Ta'lok, who opened the door, letting light pour into the room. "I am glad we made a deal, and I grant you leave. You will have ten minutes to evacuate the premise before our drones are reactivated. Spend your time wisely."


The guards watched as Ta'lok walked away from their headquarters, and were astonished as he practically molded in with his surroundings as he left, leaving no traces of his departure. Within moments, it was if the Shaper had never visited.

Spoiler:
The first part, up until Mirrorstone asking Ta'lok for his name, allegiance, etc was written, quite expertly, by Smudge. After that point, I wrote it.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/06/14 08:10:38


Post by: chazz huggins


The needles tore a hundred holes throughout her flesh. Each drug brought with it new nightmares: horrors that only darkest creatures of the immaterium can match. She slammed her fist against the walls of her glass vat in vein. All of this was to the infinite amusement to her captor, who cackled a horrid laugh a grotesque wheezing that passed for a xeno’s horrid joy.

Captain Amanda Kid awoke in her tent gasping for air and drenched in sweat. She ran her hand through her short wet hair and looked over at her chrono she had gotten nearly five hours of sleep a personal record. She could hear gunfire in the distance a noise she had long been numb to. The battle had reached yet another stalemate both sides entrenched, Inquistor Randall had ordered the men to rest as he would need them at their best when it came time to make their final push. Kid waited little time before putting on her armor and heading outside.

The inquisitorial war camp was alive, wounded were being carried to medical tent, soldiers cleaned weapons and polished armor, Storm troopers and penal legionnaires broke bread and shared war stories.

Commissar Jethro Alenko approached the captain with a ceramic mug of caffeine. The Commissar spoke handing Kid the mug “Good morning captain, at least I think its morning, can never tell in these damn hives.” Kid eagerly took the cup and drank from it, it tasted like dirt. Alenko spoke as Kid downed her beverage “We’ve made some progress since last you were awake.” Kid smiled “How? Was I fighting in my sleep again?” Alenko laughed in return, “Were that the case our enemy would be long dead. The Grey Knights pushed the traitors back, however their encountering more elite enemy infantry, nothing they can’t handle but we’ve slowed to a crawl. Randall has called for a council it will begin shortly.” Kid finished her drink and spoke with a gasp of refreshment “Lead the way.”

The war council was quite informal it had all the usual members Commissar Alenko, Captain Kid, Captain Athenar, Warden Hoffman, Paladin Utilitarius, and Justicar Freeman who had only recently returned from his mission at Drake’s point. Randall wore his black carapace armor with the holy seal of the inquisition on its breast over that he wore a tattered black trench coat. Randall Spoke only semi formally “To be blunt progress has been much slower than I like, these heretics are proving to be a stubborn lot. However I just received news that should turn the tides of war in our favor. A regiment of imperial guardsmen has by some miracle of the Emperor has made planet fall around the Hive.” “Who are they.” Asked Kid. Randall stole a glance at his paper and replied “The 487th Lunar Venatorii Panther Calvary. Wyrm riders.” Alenko spoke “We could definitely use the extra men, but I would advise caution this place can corrupt.” Randall nodded “My thoughts the same, that is why I am sending Captain Kid to make contact with their commander to ensure there is nothing to fear from them.” Kid disliked the idea of being taken away from the battle to play diplomat but she would not complain. The Captain nodded to the inquisitor and Randall concluded “Excellent make ready we will make our final push soon.”

Spoiler:
Inquistion reaction to reinforcements and some character building for Captain Kid


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/06/16 07:30:25


Post by: Irishpeacockz


Kremus blindly fired his Lucius Pattern Mk22c Combat Shotgun over the makeshift barrier towards the oncoming forces of the rotting Imperium, Kremus heard a few cries of agony as his projectiles found their mark. Risking a glance Kremus raised his deformed head when one of his pale milky eyes spotted the Imperial guard retreating, his fellow mutants cheered finally getting revenge on the ones who scorned them all their lives but Kremus wasn't convinced and stood his ground just as he was ordered to do “Hold the barricade you curs ! Hold !” Despite his commands some of the adrenaline fueled cultists charged after the fleeing imperial guardsmen only to be reduced to a bloody pulp as mud, blood and dirt sprouted from the ground where the shell landed, a second one shell from the approaching predators hit the ground sending the few cultists that were still unharmed fleeing. Cursing Kremus ordered the retreat, they didn't have that kind of firepower. They retreated to a nearby building which used to belong to the adeptus arbites and which was once a formidable structure. Now however it is a crumbling ruin like much of the city, whether that was due to the separatist uprising or the Imperial attack was up to debate. Dust fell onto Kremus’ shoulder from the one half of the roof that was left, “Rights lads, when I say hold, I mean fething hold ! The Imperials have us on the backfoot and they have more numbers, think ! Why would they retreat ? Why ? Think for once in your lives before throwing your life away -” a shifty cultist stepped forward with all the various boils on his body bubbling and pus oozed out of every pore “What is it ?” Snapped Kremus annoyed by the interruption “Grandfather has granted me a message for our master” Kremus considered this a moment, the Imperial predators were advancing on their position quickly which they could not take out and messages to their master must always be delivered with haste, “We’re moving out, grab anything useful and let's go” gathering anything useful from the station they set off to find their master.

Prophet Garathal stood atop a mound of dirt which overlooked the crowded field. His Terminator Armor was rusted and the cape that hung from his shoulder’s was ridden with maggots. The armor itself was quartered with a pea green and steel gray colour scheme. The Prophet’s helmet featured a single horn which was slightly cured in to center of the forehead, it had a T shaped slit for vision and breathing purposes and on either side of the slit near the cheekbones were holes were maggots were that emerge and submerge themselves giving one nightmares to think about what lay beneath the helm, similar to the horn on his helm two horns adorned his knee pads. His staff was long which thins out at one end and broadens out the the other. At the broad end lies a scythe with green runes etched upon its surface and drips crudes poisons and diseases, near the end of the scythe where it connects with the body of the staff a circle is carved out where the symbol of nurgle resides constantly have a sickly green aura.

The last of the women and children were being brought to Garathal as he observed the foolish humans. “Fools ! Grandfather Nurgle is generous to those in his service, he will make you more powerful than you can even comprehend and you dare to refuse him ? The one who makes sure your crops don't rot, the one that makes sure your cough goes away, ungrateful cretins !” Garathal stepped forward with his arms outstretched raising his staff high in the sky “Whether you enter his service service willingly or refuse his wonderful gifts, all shall receive Nurgle’s blessing” an aura oozed out of Garathal’s staff which spread towards the hundreds of humans in captivity, when it reached the first few humans they began coughing viciously. Soon a chorus of coughing echoed throughout the fields. Once the coughing died down another chorus rang out, the thundering sound of autogun fire. As the last of the humans were eradicated, Garathal heard footsteps approaching, turning he saw Kremus alongside a cultist blessed by Nurgle “What is it now Kremus ? Does the hive still hold ?” Kremus bowed “No Prophet, they sent in heavy armor we couldn't penetrate the thick plates” Garathal was silent a moment “Prophet if I may this one here says the Grandfather has a message f-” before Kremus could finished Garathal swung his staff diagonally from high right to low left splitting open the adjacent cultist’s stomach littering the floor with his innerds. Picking up the man’s intestines it read where words were carved into the flesh “The people of Crion yearn for my gifts, spread my children, spread my gifts to this world” the cultist collapsed and became one with the dirt. “Seems we have a new purpose my children, gather up your things, the Lord’s work is never done !” Shouted Garathal as he began to survey what was once a field of dead humans was now a field of the rising dead, one by one they rose stumbling towards their own homes, towards the armies of the Imperium.




Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/06/17 19:22:26


Post by: chazz huggins


Captain Kid blocked the glare of the sun with her armored wrist. This was the first time in weeks she had been out of the hive. After a few minutes of her eyes adjusting she could now see the world in more clarity. In the distance she could see the Venatorii camp, though the lodging was temporary it must have been a massive undertaking due to its scale. Began the long walk from the stairs that exited the hive to crionian earth below.

Kid had walked for nearly twenty minutes when she saw a trio of riders coming. It was not long before the wyrmsmen were upon Kid, the trio blitz around the storm trooper and encircled her. The three creatures looked menacing, two were black scaled with red scales that accented the flanks of their long bodies. The third rider was mounted atop a deep blue beast who’s hide was marked with freckles of white.

The lead rider spoke from atop his blue steed “State your name and business here.” Kid replied examining the fearsome mounts “My name is Captain Amanda Kid, emissary for Inquisitor Garrett Randall.” The rider dismounted Kid could see by his patch he was a sergeant. The sergeant offered Kid his hand and spoke as the two shook “My name is sergeant Jacob Holiday, it’s a pleasure to meet you mam.” Kid spoke griping the sergeant’s fist “Well met sergeant, how much further is your camp, I will need to speak with your commander.” Holiday replied “Not but another ten minutes walk on foot. I will accompany you.” The sergeant looked over to one of his subordinates and spoke “Take Azula here and inform Colonel Raven he has company.” The rider pounded his fist to his chest and the three wyrms and two riders were off.

As the sergeant said it was only a ten-minute walk to the camp. Kid saw the hastily built stables that would temporarily house the dragon-kin mounts, they walked by tables where groups of men played cards and drank, they passed patrols of riders overseeing the camps welfare. At the center of the camp was a tent much larger than the rest. Holiday looked over to Kid and spoke “Before you head in I’m afraid I will need to confiscate your side arm.” Reluctantly Kid relinquished the hot shot las pistol. Holiday continued “And that knife in your boot.” Kid removed the nine-inch blade and handed it to the sergeant. Holiday smiled “You can head right on in.”

Kid entered the tent, it was lit only by a few candles. She examined the holdings and noticed it to be a bit on the simpler. She saw the colonel facing away from her looking in the mirror. The man’s neck and checks were covered in shaving cream and in the colonel’s left hand was a straight razor. The colonel spoke friendly but didn’t turn to Kid “Captain, I thank you for your presence.” Kid spoke “Colonel Raven, the honor is mine. We appreciate your sudden arrival; it is a gift from the Emperor.” Raven wiped the shaving cream away with a rag and spoke “A high praise madam, however I think the Emperor could do a whole lot better than our humble regiment.” Kid smiled “Regardless we are glad to have your support.” Raven gestured to a table and some chairs and spoke “Sit, I reckon we have much to discuss.” Kid sat and began recounting the war for Cogger Hive.

In the time Kid spoke Raven had lit a cigar. The colonel had seen the taint of chaos before, he knows what horrors it may have on the minds of men. Raven spoke “Captain I know what the effects the arch enemy might have on my men, should any of them succumb we know what must be done.” Kid spoke “I have lost dozens of men to the taint, it is never easy but it must be done.” By this point Kid was comfortable in allowing the Venatorii to assist them. Kid spoke “We are planning a final push against the heretics, your men will prove invaluable. We can discuss this further at our forward camp.” Raven grinned we will have our camped pack by night fall, we will join you shortly there after.” Raven called outside the tent. “Holliday” the sergeant shortly appeared. “You and your men are heading out with the captain.” The sergeant pounded his fist to his chest. Kid bowed her head to Raven and exited the tent.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/06/18 09:52:44


Post by: Irishpeacockz


Garathal awaited atop a hill overlooking both the treeline his cultists were lurking in and the stretch they must make to the fort Dorn’s Shield. As the last of his cultists reserves made planetside he raised his hands and produced a green flame and sent it across the night’s sky illuminating the frenzied cultists who charged at the signal. The fort stood silent almost as if it were unimpressed by the cultist's shabby display until simultaneously ranks of las fire lit up the cultist's ranks felling them by the dozen, eager to attain his prize Garathal continued the attack, he just needed to reach the walls and pass on Nurgle’s gift to just one man and it would spread like wildfire. At first it would appear as a mere cough, a common thing, perhaps their skin would take a sickly tone. After a couple of days their skin would tighten revealing their veins underneath and their hair would begin to fall out. In the next phase there skin is paper thin, the teeth will begin to rot as the last strands of hair fall out, their cheeks sunken in, the eyes and most of their internal organs will now begin to rot until finally Nurgle welcomes them with glee and they begin to crave flesh.

Kremus emerged from the treeline sprinting and shouted in Nurgle’s name like all his brothers, such a warcry has struck fear into many poorly equipped and poorly trained Planetary Defense Force causing them to run and flee, but behind their wall they were fearless. When Kremus began his charge the warcry that he and his brothers mustered was deafening now as cultists dropped left and right it was a shadow of its former self. Before Kremus knew what hit him he felt a burning sensation in his right thigh which brought him crashing into the dirt like hundreds of others before him.

The cultist's did not manage to spread Papa Nurgle's gift however, they did not even reach the walls. The systematic firing lines that the Imperials had set up were cutting down the cultists as they tripped over their dead comrades trying to reach the walls for their master, what they lacked in efficiency they made up for in fervour. 50% of the original force of cultists were dead now, cursing Garathal ordered the retreat deciding to cut his losses rather than throw more men at the Imperial’s formidable defenses “Flee you fools flee back into the trees towards the swamp” a red ball of flame sparked to life in Garathal’s hands which he sent flying through the air to signal the retreat. Whether they were charging towards the fort or the treeline the cultists were being torn to shreds. Only a handful of cultists survived that participated in the first attack, 65% of Garathal's cultist’s more or less had perished, retreating with his plague marines and beastmen intact Garathal would never be so blunt in his dealings with the Imperium on this world again.

When Kremus awoke he was being dragged through the dirt and his leg was aflame, red lines shot through the sky in unison and dropped the shrouded figures left and right. As his vision cleared he began to grasp the situation, retreat. The word left a bad taste in his mouth and struck fear into his heart when he began to wonder about how his would punish him for such failure turning his head he saw the two cultists which have been dragging him and the decrepit treeline that they have been racing towards, “just a little farther now Kremus” reassured one of the cultist’s between his heavy breathing “We are almost ther-” the cultist’s head rocked back as a shot from a lasgun pierced through his skull dropping him on top of Kremus. The other Cultist let go of Kremus and ran “Filthy Cur, I will have your head !” Spat Kremus as he dug his fingernails into the dirt to try and pull himself out from under the rotting corpse, freeing his one good knee he dug that into the mud freeing himself. Grabbing the dead mutant’s poor excuse for a rifle he slowly picked himself up, leaning heavily on his newly acquired walking stick and began shuffling back towards his brothers, and that coward.
Spoiler:
A short piece but it explains my first disastrous roll



Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/06/19 16:19:26


Post by: Ezra Tyrius


“Marvellous, isn’t it?”

Lord Breacher’s voice thundered through the armoury, echoing softly in the room’s high domed ceiling as the Terminator armour-clad Iron Warrior walked towards the Sorcerer, who stood at the far end of the room.

The Sorcerer had been staring at one of the fresco’s decorating the walls, trying to decipher what it was they had once represented. If anything, he’d learned that the ancient Blood Dragons had quite the obsession with them, as they seemed to adorn practically every surface of this base.

“I’ve seen better”, the Sorcerer replied starkly.

The old Iron Warrior chuckled. “Tell me, Sorcerer, will there ever be a planet whose art meets your standards?”

The Sorcerer smirked as he turned towards Lord Breacher. “There was one planet that did. But then someone couldn’t keep their dogs on a leash, and well…”

Lord Breacher slapped him on his shoulder pad, laughing heartily, and motioned him to a workstation.

“Take a look at this, Brother.”

On the workstation sat an ornate curved Power Sword with a hilt in the shape of a dragon, and an equally ornate shield with a dragon crest. They were exceptionally well-crafted, their magnificence seemingly unaffected by the ravages of time and entropy.

The Sorcerer picked up the sabre, balancing the weapon in his hand before making a few swipes with it. It was light as a feather, well-balanced and razor-sharp. Its Power Field crackled pleasingly as it trailed through the air.

“A fine weapon.”

“Most certainly”, Lord Breacher spoke, as he picked up the shield and held it before him. “Their artisans knew their craft well. It’s a shame they weren’t as inventive when it came to naming their companies.”

“How so?”, the Sorcerer replied, curious as to what the Iron Warrior knew of the ancient Blood Dragons.

Lord Breacher merely pointed upwards with a mischievous grin. The Sorcerer traced his companion’s finger to a magnificent fresco that covered the entire ceiling, with at its centre the icon of the Blood Dragons. Just below the icon was a banner that carried the company’s name and number.

“The Ice Drakes?”

Lord Breacher laughed. “Rather disappointing, wouldn’t you agree?”

The Sorcerer was about to reply when a sudden cold washed over him, sending a shiver down his spine. He looked at Lord Breacher to see if he felt it too, but the Iron Warrior seemed fully oblivious to any change in temperature. He also didn’t notice the Sorcerer’s lack of response, as a message came over his personal vox.

“Apologies, Brother”, Lord Breacher spoke, as he turned his vox off. “It seems I have matters to attend to in the Generatorium. It’s a miracle any of the machinery here still works in the first place.”

The Sorcerer didn’t respond, his psyche already busy mapping the room for any threats. He barely heard the Iron Warrior’s heavy footsteps trailing off into the distance over the sound of his own two heartbeats, until the armoury’s heavy doors slammed shut, snapping him back to reality.

It was at that moment the Sorcerer realized the armoury was completely empty, filled only with an uneasy silence. The air grew cold, a thin layer of frost rapidly forming on the surface of his armour. The lights began to flicker, slowly at first but eventually flashing on and off in rapid succession. Moments later, the lights at the other end of the room dimmed, slowly covering the room in darkness.

Eventually, only a single light remained. The Sorcerer stood uneasily in the pale, artificial light, his breath forming thin vapour trails. He gritted his teeth as he prepared himself for the psychic threat that was encroaching on him from the darkness. He raised his voice in challenge, the words laced with controlled anger.

“I know you are there.”

The room seemingly gasped as the Sorcerer’s words resounded softly in the cassettes of the domed ceiling of the armoury. A tiny light appeared in the dark, and the Sorcerer squinted as he tried to get a glimpse of his opponent.

In the darkest corner of the room, an entity bled out of the shadows, two red eyes shining brightly, a crooked grin forming across its face as its form wrested itself free from the darkness.

“Oh, my dear Sorcerer…”

The Sorcerer’s twin hearts stopped beating for a second when he heard the entity’s voice. His eyes opened wide as he laid eyes on the figure stepping into the light.

“…is that how you greet an old friend?”

In the pale light of the armoury stood Acting-Captain Aurelius.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/06/19 17:02:01


Post by: Kharne the Befriender


=====Blood Dragon Site, Tybalt, Luna Epsilon=====

Numek paced around the Blood Dragon Ruin trying to comprehend exactly what was on these walls. To the unimaginative mind or a quick glance it was but pictures, but Numek knew that was not the case. No, he knew there was a story, a purpose, a left behind instruction. A Lychguard approached Numek,
“Cryptek, the equipment has been assembled and the urn is ready to be processed.”
“Good, make sure it is a thorough scan.”
“Yes, Cryptek.”
The Lychguard ordered some of the warriors to lift the pieces of the urn and place them into the device, which resembled a kind of glass box. Numek went back to staring at the walls while the Lychguard began scanning the shattered pieces. He went through the standard protocols, but found nothing. All of the sudden a faint whirring was heard over a certain section of the Urn. Numek turned and approached the machine, that pattern was very similar to something. He looked at it with renewed zeal as he realized that this urn operated much like a Tesseract Labyrinth. He somewhat rejoice in his findings until it hit him that whatever this Murrogg was, he was a very powerful Psyker. Numek moved to the altar and examined every detail and every inch of it, but it was just stone. Then he went back to the mural where the Astartes banished the foul beast. He studied the mural over and over again but to no avail.
“BAH!” Numek kicked over some equipment in his anger, “All I see is some Astartes magically shoving a dragon into an urn!”
“Perhaps you should look harder…”
Numek turned to see who had addressed him but found nothing but darkness. Numek readied his stave, but to no use as he couldn’t see anything. Before he had time to react an azure inferno engulfed the air in front of him.
“Who is there?”
“I am a Prophet, here my words...”
“What is it you have to say?”
“These murals are beyond you, but destruction is not…”
“What d-” Before he could speak further the flame vanished and he awoke. Apparently at some point he had fallen to the floor, his Guard picked him up.
“Are you ok Cryptek?”
“I am fine… I just… I need to think.”
With that, he entered the portal that led to his laboratory. He looked through the window at the Megalith, he could only see the very front. They had finished the superstructure and frame on time, now the difficult times were upon them. Alas, he could not do much, he had already given the orders on what to build… build…
“That is what I will do.” Numek began assembling his tools quite frantically.
“The murals may be beyond me, but my trade is not.”
He began working on a template, it took a crescent shape, but looked different.
“The skies will darken and fire will rain upon them.”
Numek wondered if these would help their friends in Cogger, but the 3 Oppressor Flights and extra men Grulahk sent should do... for now.

Spoiler:

Just a small piece until I can find out what to do with my new Scythe variant and my Necrons in general


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/06/19 22:09:35


Post by: Sgt. Vanden


The first signs of attack was the massive green ball of fire soaring through the air. Sgt. Eirine was one of the first onto the wall, and one of the few who saw the massive giant in the middle of the swarm of bodies rushing towards the walls. As one, they all let out an unhuman battle cry, one that rang in the inside of Eirines ears. And the Imperials responded in similar fashion. As one, the officers of the Gorgons gave the order to fire, and night became day again. Las-fire tore through the cultists ranks, and soon, the overwhelming tang of las-guns firing became louder than than the heretics’ battle cry. As more and more troopers awoke and ran to the walls, more and more cultists fell. Soon, the tide faltered, then stopped altogether. As if signalling to the remaining forces, the giant hurtled another fireball through the air. The remaining cultists fell back under the wall of lasers, they left the wounded, who were either trampled to death or hit again and again by the las-fire.

The moment the last cultist ran back into the treeline, the officers of the Gorgons assembled kill teams. Each of these teams were given full armour, covering them head to toe with flak armour, facemasks with rebreathers and flamers. They had fought devotees to Nurgle before, and they knew what danger would arise if even one person was infected. As such, the bodies that were strewn across the lands between the walls of Dorn’s Shield and the surrounding forest were summarily burnt, cleansing the taint from Imperial soil. Whatever few living cultists remained were burnt alive.

Captain Estares, the commanding officer of the 5th company contacted the Lord-General by the next day, and made sure that the General knew exactly what they were dealing with. Going off several reports, a giant led this rabble. A giant that most would believe to be a Traitor Astarte. After a quick debrief, Lord-General Henri McFallus thanked the Captain and ended transmissions.
Henri turned to Ben, who had heard the entire conversation and raised a furrowed eyebrow.
“Chaos taint on the planet? I thought the Inquisitor had the Space Elevator under lock-down? How the bloody hell did they get here then?” Ben asked as Henri caressed his moustache.
“I do not believe these are the same heretics. The ones that the Inquisitor is battling did not worship Nurgle, and it is highly unlikely that two different groups would be fighting at the same time right next to each other. No, I believe a new threat has arisen from nowhere, and that the Inquisitor should be informed immediately.”
“Ugh, do we really need to involve the Inquisition with this? You know what they do to the poor guard regiments attached to them…” Ben groaned.
“Of course I do, but we cannot fight a war on two fronts. We must focus on the real threat here, rather than just fighting amongst each other. Now, get me an astropath to contact the Inquisitor. We will decide what to do next together.”
“Yes sir…”



Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/06/19 22:10:47


Post by: Sgt. Vanden


Iodius cast the thought of the Meeting from his mind once more. He had acted in an undesirable way, and he assigned himself forty days fasting in repentance. Other than that, his mouth was left bittered after the encounter with the Hounds, and had lost any and all respect he might’ve had for them. All they were in his mind were over-zealous mongrel whisperers, nothing more. He did not attempt to recall anybody else, for somewhere deep in the mental archives his bionic eye had made, was a recording of the entire meeting, and he would explore it later. Right now, he had a more important agenda. He knew what he and the Stone Wardens had to do. Three Thunderhawks, packed to the brim, roared into the landing pads of the Space Elevator, and two of them disgorged their loads. The locals watched in awe as sixty, armour clad Astarte warriors marched down the streets of the elevator. To see one of these, nigh immortal god-kings, awe-inspiring, but to see sixty of such beings? The very thought would make grown men weep. Iodius marched at the front of the column, followed by Techmarine Strates, and Iodius’ command squad. They came to the walls, and Iodius looked over it in disapproval. He had been in countless wars against the green tide, and this petty excuse of a fortification would not last ten minutes. He turned to Strates and nodded, he knew exactly what to do, and no words were needed. The Techmarine ushered something in binary, and another sixty beings marched down from the last Thunderhawk. The servitors marched in unison, the silver of their bionics shining bright in the harsh Crionian sun. As one, they began unloading the two cargo shuttles of their load and hauling the black rockrete to the wall. Within the day, construction on the wall was well underway.

Iodius had removed his helmet. He had spent the last eight hours expertly placing and chiselling at the half tonne slabs of rockrete. Sweat poured down his grizzled face, and his hair was damp with the stuff. He watched as a pair of veterans climbed up the stairs to the top of the partially built ramparts and place a mounted autocannon and accompanying ammunition. They began setting up the weapon, and feeding it the ammunition that would most certainly be needed in the coming battle. His vision was torn away from the progressing wall towards a man approaching Iodius.
“Commander. What is it you wish to ask?” Iodius did not remember the mans name, so addressing him by his rank will suffice for now.
“Lord, I wish to ask where you will want my troops to deploy along the wall.” The man asked.
“You will not deploy along the wall. You will deploy within the city. When the orks penetrate the wall, which they will, you will be the first line of defence. It is there where the training their training will be tested.” He leaned down to be eye level with the man. “Make sure they do not disappoint me, or it will be on your head.” The man looked terrified. He was not only just threatened by a Space Marine, but perhaps the most terrifying of them. A Chaplain.
“Y-Yes Lord. They will not fail you!” The man gave a short bow and hurried off. Iodius felt like smiling, but could not bring himself to do so.

Southern part of the wall

Two Space Marines carried another crate of ammunition down by a sewage grate. Jirel played back the transmission to his master in his head.

“Mi’lord, plans have changed. The forces of the Imperials have been halted by an unseen ork uprising.”
Not unseen Jirel, everything is going just as I planned. Where is the horde going now?
“It is approaching the Space Elevator as we speak. The Imperials are harassing it as best as they can, but they are far too numerous to be halted completely, just slowed. At current speed, they will arrive at the Space Elevator in four days. But the green tide will break once they reach the walls. Our brothers have dug in like a leech, and they will not let go of the it until it is over.”
The orks will win. We will make sure of it.
“But lord, the orks do not have a big enough army. To breach it, they will need thousands of orks.”
Tens of thousands actually.
“Exactly. They do not have such numbers!”
But they will. They are starting to snowball. Should we let it catch, and perhaps give them another advantage, they will beat the followers of the corpse-god followers. Hide ammunition caches by the southern grate. I will send one of my followers to inform the greenskins of this. Make sure it is ready.
“It will be done, Mi’lord. For the Dark Gods.” The communication ended.

Jirel shook his head and continued. He picked up a discarded tire and threw it against the ammunition. He and the rest of the Enlightened had gathered scrap metal and discarded furniture and used it to mask the trap. So far, all had gone well, and nobody suspected anything.
“Jirel. We have company.” The other Space Marine with him remarked as he continued stacking tires innocently. Jirel turned to face two mortal troopers. They stank of sweat.
“Mi’lord, we noticed that you’ve been here for the past hour, and we were wondering if you needed any help?” The two young men shifted in position as Jirel rose to his full height.
“No. Leave us.” He said sternly. The men seemed content to leave the gaze of the Space Marine, and they both went to turn away, but one of them stopped.
“Is that ammunition there? What have you tw-“ The Guardsman was stopped as Jirel reached out and snapped his neck. His compatriot fell back in terror and fumbled with his lasgun in an attempt to stave off the giant. Jirel smirked at its futility and stomped down on his head. He wiped the blood and brains off on the man’s uniform and picked him up. He grabbed the other fallen man and threw them behind the pile of debris. Jirel looked at the other Space Marine.
“We need to camouflage this better. Next time it could be an Astartes that finds this.”
“Agreed. We build over it. There are some slabs over by the keep. I will retrieve them.”
“Good. Inform the rest.”
“It will be done.”



Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/06/20 21:17:02


Post by: Irishpeacockz


Prophet Garathal kept on marching as he had been since Dorn’s Shield, that was two days ago or so he thought keeping track of the sun and the moon. Of the cultist's remaining a few died of exhaustion, mainly the humans and mutants. The beastmen, plague marines and the Prophet’s seven apostles stood strong. Garathal was expecting an Imperial counter attack on his ragged train but none came, a good thing to thought Garathal, his enemies must never know how weak the Disciples of Decay were at this moment, they must show a force of strength to their enemies and recuperate in the shadows. Upon reaching a peak atop one of the many rolling hills that featured throughout the province, Garathal noticed the local fauna on the horizon change which he reckoned to be the swamp “Come brothers, only a little farther, Nurgle’s refuge awaits, where metal rusts and wood rots” pointing his staff towards the horizon,encouraging his weary band ever onwards.

Near the rear of the train lay Kremus who was slumped over Drelos’ shoulder, “In service to Grandfather Nurgle foul fumes come with the job but this minotaur takes the cake” “Be grateful” said Baezael shutting the cultist up “I could have him lay you down, let you struggle up this hill, no doubt it would please the Lord of Decay to no end” Kremus could just about make out the Beastman shaman as Drelos stomped up the hill. The shaman was donned head to tail in the same pea green as the rest of the cult with the robe being tattered near his hooves and his arms, revealing his sickly yellow, leathery flesh and matted hair beneath, it bore a hood which has various engraving along the brim representing Nurgle. His staff unlike his master’s was simple, a wooden staff that was carved by Baezael himself. Atop it laid the skull of a ram’s head much like his own with Nurgle's symbol carved into its forehead, he attached a small bit of leather to where he hand often frequents when he is walking such as now. Beneath the ram’s head were various trinkets and charms that were sacred to his people which clanked against the wooden shaft as he walked which irritated Kremus to no end. Baezael broke the silence “Brooding over your revenge against the one who ran away ?” Kremus clenched his fists “Aye, think I might take it nice and slow, drawing out his entrails and hanging him with them so the men can use his corpse as target practice” Baezael chuckled “Perhaps you will find a message amidst the entrails” Kremus shot a glare “Very Funny”

Quickly after entering the swamp Garathal felt a presence, minor at first so much so that he could have missed it but as they ventured deeper and deeper he began to notice it more and more until eventually it broke into whispers. Following the words Garathal picked up his pace striding through deep, murky waters in his terminator plate leaving his other minions to navigate around such deep waters, only his similarly armored Apostles kept up ensuring his protection at all times. Cleaving through little trees and shrubs in his way Garathal cleared a path through the foliage getting ever closer to the source of the whispers,leaving his apostles to follow in the wake of his destruction. After losing the main body of his forces leaving only himself and his apostles, Garathal stopped at the base of a hill atop of which stood a few crumbling walls with vines and other growth which had claimed the walls as their own via the passage of time,mthe hill itself was made up of slippery wet mud out of which stuck thin dead trees which could perhaps act as something to pull oneself through the mud, but for one of Garathal’s size that wasn't an option. Garathal turned to face his followers, “I will be venturing up to the top,Brothers Galrass and Farthac will accompany me, Brothers Rhaegos, Klyn,Lynx,Krel and Steele rally our forces here, we must regroup and prepare for Imperial retaliation”. Sticking his staff deep in the mud, Garathal began to make the climb digging his feet ankle deep into the mud to try and gain some footing while the climb was slow this way it was reliable and he would not slip while doing so. Upon reaching the top Garathal discover a big gaping hole in the wall which allowed easy access, the whispers were strong and loud here however still he proceeded until he reached a point where they were almost deafening, it was at this point where he knelt and prayed to the Lord of Decay, for forgiveness for his foolish actions at Dorn’s Shield, for guidance on what to do next. Suddenly the whispered stopped and he saw nothing, a moment went by then two,three then a flicker of activity burned into his mind for a split second before it was gone as quick as it had came, following this he saw a hive besieged by the Imperium, close by the ragtag troops looked like cultists and by the orange uniforms they must have been a penal legion. Garathal searched across the void trying to find a location initially finding nothing, try harder Garathal said to himself, searching some more he found it, Luna Maximus, Cogger.Garathal sat there for a long time so long that he had sunk deep into the mud, when he emerged he was giving orders left and right “Get some men to scout out this swamp and find some materials, this will be our new bastion from which we will spread Nurgle’s wonderful gifts, this shall be a cathedral for those who walk Nurgles path, this shall be a Cathedral of Blight. Signal our brother's in space send some aircraft, we are going on a trip.
Spoiler:
Garathal sets up a new church and organises a sleepover with some friends.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/06/22 00:59:29


Post by: War Kitten


For too long I have sat on the sidelines wallowing in my grief as my kin fought and died on this ball of dirt. For too long I have been little more than a figurehead, a symbol of the Council of Seer’s support to the Warhosts of Iybraesil. No longer. This thought keeps echoing in my head as I swiftly dart from cover to cover alongside a squad of Guardians. The excitement in the air is palpable, every warrior from the lowest Guardian to the mightiest Exarch feels it in their bones. It is the calm before the storm, the lull before the fury of the storm is unleashed upon all that are in its’ path. It is only recently that I arrived in this place, named Cogger by the denizens of this planet, and already I can feel myself coming to life once more. Before I was a shadow of myself, a wraith content to lead my forces from the rear, as many of my fellow seers are content to do, unwilling to involve themselves directly in battle. I will do so no longer, Khaine’s Battlelust burns in my blood, and this time I am happy to answer its’ call. This night Hive Cogger will drown in the blood of the scions of Chaos, those who would dare sully the universe with their presence. Their very existence is repulsive, and this night it will be my pleasure to destroy them. I reach out with my mind to locate the spirits of those who are leading the other raids upon the enemy. One by one I touch upon the minds of Raela, Viksanis and Doreal. Proud Warlocks all, their presence will help ensure our victory this night, and I allow a grim smile to cross my face at the thought of the destruction that we will wreak this night. I am surrounded by my kin, and I have a blade in my hand. For the first time in a while, I feel truly alive, and it is glorious.

As I crouch in the archway of one of the human’s habitation buildings a Ranger appears out of the shadows next to me to deliver a report. With a jolt I realize that it is Thirianna. For a time after the events of the “Charadon Crusade” as the humans call it, we were friends but over the last couple of years we have drifted apart as I chose to withdraw into myself and take care of my daughter. Occasionally I would hear rumors of her exploits out in the wider galaxy, but other than that I had no word from her at all. As she comes to a halt Thirianna fires off a rapid series of hand gestures, unwilling to risk being overheard by potential sympathizers to the cause of these cultists. The Rangers’ sign language is a complex thing, known only to a few outside of their organization, and I am one of the lucky few who has learned it while on the various Paths. The report itself is simple, up ahead there is a warehouse that is being used by the enemy as a supply depot. Destroying it will impair their efforts in holding back the forces of the Imperium’s Inquisition, who we have seen signs of nearby. While my forces have had no contact with the Inquisition, I have received several reports from my kin of heavy gunfire being heard from higher up in the Hive, signs that whatever their purpose is, they are pushing hard against the cultists. I acknowledge Thirianna’s report with a nod and then she seems to melt into the shadows once more. If I hadn’t seen her with my own eyes just a few seconds before I would have sworn that there was nobody there. I turn to the leader of the Guardian squad that is accompanying me and with a gentle push I pass along the information to him, along with our plan of attack. After listening carefully to my words he nods and turns to issue the same orders to his own squad, and as one we begin moving once more.

The warehouse itself is a disappointing sight. I didn’t really know what to expect from human construction, but even for them this building seems like a dump. The walls are bare adamantium, covered in strips of peeling paint, and a few guards are sitting outside of it near a fire. Even from my hidden position the smell of the cheap alcohol they’re swilling hits me, and it takes all of my will to keep myself from heaving at the horrific smell of it. Despite the smell, I send a prayer of thanks to the Gods for their inattention. Their laxity will make it pitifully easy to eliminate them, and I can only hope that the others’ raids are going just as well as ours is. I turn to the Guardians who are operating the weapons platform and I give them a nod, and a second later a plasma missile is fired into the human’s midst with a pierceing shriek. One second there was a sizable group of the human’s sitting around the fire, the next all that was left was a smoking crater and the smell of singed flesh begins to fill the air. As the noise finally begins to fade the rest of the Guardians raise their weapons and wait, knowing that the humans inside the building will quickly be moving to investigate the disturbance, and I raise my pistol alongside them. We didn’t have to wait long, as the door to the warehouse slammed open, and another group of the cultists spills out from it with weapons at the ready. They scarcely have the time to look upon what remains of their comrades before the air is filled with razor sharp death. All around me shuriken catapults sing their deadly song, and the cultists begin to fall at an alarming rate, with holes gouged out of their flesh by the razor sharp disks. As my weapons joins the choir I can feel the battle lust pulsing in my veins, and a feral grin splits my face, and I want to howl with joy at the feeling. I raise my singing spear and I point it at the apparent leader of the cultists, who is trying to usher his remaining charges into cover behind the wooden crates that litter the area, and I feel a rush of energy as my powers answer my call. Time seems to slow as I gaze upon the strands of fate that are attached to this man. There are ones where he and his men are victorious over me and my kin, but there are many, many more where he dies alongside the rest of them in this dark, dingy place, and it is one of those fates that I pull to ensure that it comes to pass. After doing so I pull myself back to my body and I watch with grim satisfaction as the shuriken sent his way seem to be drawn magnetically to him, and a millisecond later he falls shredded to the bloodied concrete. It doesn’t take long after that for the rest of the cultists to be tracked down and executed, and shortly thereafter my kin and I fade into the shadows again, having placed a series of explosive charges around and within the warehouse. The Great Enemy will not be receiving those supplies, and the thought makes me smile yet again.

The news I receive back at the temporary basecamp that was established gives me even more cause to smile. All of the raids we launched met with great success, and by the reports that I received from Raela and Viksanis, the cultists seem to be reeling from the blows that they have been dealt. But I remember to remind them, and my other warriors that we cannot let ourselves become complacent just because of our easy victories so far. It only takes one little event for the vagaries of fate to turn on us, and I urge all of my warriors to be on high alert, this so called “Flayed Legion” will not take our attacks lying down, and I know that a reprisal will come sooner or later, it is only a matter of time. I cannot see when though, those strands of fate are dark even to my sight, and despite my happiness, I am worried.

Spoiler:
Moon #2, Hive Cogger. I rolled a victory for my raids, and I managed to give the Flayed Legion a bloody nose and sabotage a few things. Now to wait for the inevitable reprisal. As always, let me know what you think so I can keep trying to improve my writing



Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/06/22 01:46:27


Post by: TheEyeOfNight


++HIVE COGGER//INQUISITION CAMP++

Nightfall at Cogger was an exercise in insomnia and waking nightmares. The perpetual glow of distant artillery, the faint screams of the dead and dying, and the omnipresent fear of a random explosion to snuff out one's light combined into a terrible place to rest. Commissar Jethro Alenko rubbed one eye hard as he walked back to his tent. The grinding warfare was a staple of siege warfare, and there was no fortress so convoluted, vulnerable, and yet impenetrable as an Imperial hive city.

His eye caught movement to his left, an unusually hurried pace in a camp for the weary and the wounded. Instincts kicked in, and his pistol was drawn without more than a moment's thought, his eyes narrowing as he peered into the darkness. He could sense the movement rather than see it, and slowly raised his plasma pistol to point up, as if firing an artillery. The others might be upset about their sleep being interrupted, but paranoia was the first skill taught to all commissars.

The pistol kicked in his hand, lofting a ball of blue plasma up into the night sky. It would deteriorate long before striking anything of note, but if there was one characteristic common to all plasma weapons, it was their painful brightness.

In the brief, harsh flash of the shot, Alenko saw a cultist crouched by the first tent, knife in hand, shielding his eyes vainly from the brilliance of the weapon.

"Heretics!" Alenko shouted.

He lowered the gun and fired a second shot, and the cultist dove for cover, narrowling dodging the searing blue blast as it plowed into a ferrocrete wall and lit up, bathing the area in angry light. At least ten of them were there, dressed in dark-colored rags and carrying the simplest, and quietest, of blades. They turned as one, unprepared for discovery, and ran back towards the city at a frantic sprint.

"Heretics! Heretics in the camp!" The pistol flashed a warning, dangerously close to overheating in his hand. He scowled, staring at the faint shapes fleeing the camp, marking the one cultists trailing behind his fellows, and set his jaw. The gun flared once more, burning his hand through the glove with a harsh sizzle, but the ancient weapon held. The ball of plasma collided with the mud to the cultist's left, bursting in a searing bubble that threw the man to the side. He hit a prefab wall and went down hard, his crude and rusty blade flying from his hand.

The two biggest legionairres fell upon him in an instant, snapping his knees with brutal kicks and cracking each rib in turn. They wrenched the cultist's arms behind his back, and one of them raised his foot to deliver a fatal shot to the cultist's neck.

"Hold!" Alenko was striding towards them, his eyes a mixture of righteous rage and indignation as he held the pistol out to his side, allowing it to vent into the cold night air. "Stand him up. Stand him up! I want to know what he came for."

* * * *
++HIVE COGGER//SALVATION PLAZA++

The 487th flooded into the plaza in force, launching grenades and wild snap-fire to drive the cultists back. After hours of exchanging fire, the cultists retreated clumsily in the face of the advance, diving through boltholes and retreating through the maze of half-destroyed buildings which surrounded the plaza. Wyrms shrieked overhead, forcing the cultists to take cover in the ruins of their own barricades as the soldiers advanced.

"Bonemen!"

The cry came in the gap between shots, filling an eerie silence on the battlefield. There was no alarm in it, nor was there cheer. It was a statement, and it became a chant from within the buildings and beneath the streets.

"Bonemen! Bonemen! Bonemen!"

With a sudden chill, it became apparent that the cultists had not taken cover from the soldiers and wyrms. They were sworn to the Flayed Legion, veterans of the furious melee at theMaw, and would not be dislodged while living. They were taking cover from something far worse.

They stalked from the ruined buildings in perfect step, crushing debris and corpses with each footfall. Gleaming ivory forms lit by the strobe of incoming gunfire, towering monoliths with skull-like faces and slender limbs. They might have been ghouls had they ever lived, or statues had anyone deemed to call them art. But the long weapons hanging from their arms cared nothing for aesthetics or appearances as they raised them in a single, massed motion. The air grew still, as if the moon itself shied away from what was about to be unleashed.

The sky lit up in crackling amber, arcing in angry trails which reached out for tank, soldier, and beast alike with a tremendous roar.

The wyrms reacted first, animal instinct warning them a heartbeat before the machines released their fury. The lead wyrm took a blast across the chest, scales falling in a gentle powder to the ground below, but the beast turned hard and cleared the remaining bolts. The skies cleared, and the automatons brought the brilliant curtain of energy crashing down onto the soldiers massed in the street. Men vanished under the storm's fury in seconds, reduced to component particles in a frenzy of xenos firepower. The returning shots ricocheted harmlessly off of the machines' metal forms, and where the lasbolts melted away metal, it reformed anew seconds after. The machines, with their blank, glowing stares and perpetual death grimaces, seemed neither to notice nor care.

They took a single, precise step forward, and fired again.

Shouts rang out, commands of retreat and covering fire as the plaza was bathed in amber light once more. The line broke, melting back towards the fortifications at the city's edge, and the plaza was yielded to the Necron "bonemen" amidst the wild cheers of a hundred heretics.

* * * *
++HIVE COGGER//SUB-LEVEL THREE++

The Chimeras rode at a blinding speed through the rubble of Hive Cogger, crushing the offal of war beneath their treads. There was no indication of stealth or subterfuge, not this time. The ornate dragon on the sides of the tanks warned everyone of whom was on the move: the Drachen, followers of the Dragon and disciples of Father Lazarus. And atop the lead tank stood Lamech.

His rusty, primitive bionic arm gripped the turret hard as the tank churned through the underbelly of the city, and the dust and debris clicked as it pattered off of his white skull helmet. But beneath that veneer, a wet mass of open flesh and muscle stared ahead in seething rage. No mortal has ever survived the Mark they said, but survive it he had. It took him an hour to muster the courage, fortitude, and insanity to finish stripping the skin off of his face, but neither the blood loss nor shock had killed him. He endured, and when he was able to stand he did so with a new fire in his damned soul.

Now he and his favored elite tore through the city as the dragon would: with roaring fire and scything claws. There was no hope of sniffing out the slippery xenos, they had to drive them out on a tide of anger and blood. And so they rode, this time towards a warhouse so recently ruined by the vicious aliens. Lamech's fist tightened as he recalled the eldar warlock, standing bathed in psychic light, a taunting target.

He was so enraptured in a fantasy of revenge that the first shot nearly tore his throat out.

The barrage of shuriken dug into the turret as he ducked down, snapping his head up to catch sight of an eldar weapon vanishing back into the second-floor window of an old, decrepit structure. Lamech roared without words, bloodlust overtaking him in an instant, and he flung himself from the turret, unspooling his barbed electro-whip as he ran. Around him, the Drachen disgorged from their tanks with cries of fury and shouted prayers, peppering the building with slugs. Lamech pointed and shouted, finally finding words, and the Chimera's autocannons swiveled as a shower of xenos fire dropped the first few Drachen.

Heavy guns pounded a relentless rhythmn, blowing giant holes through the building. From the lower levels, a pair of guardians rose from cover and leveled their guns. The surprise on their faces at how fast the cultists had closed the gap was not evident through their helmets, but it showed in their sudden snap-firing. Lamech slammed his metal fist into the eldar's breastplate, and was rewarded with a satisfying crunch as the material gave way. Above, the building groaned and began to crumble as the tank guns dismantled it brick-by-brick, showering the street with debris and alien bodies.

There was no hesitation in this action, and no confusion. It was pure human rage, gathered and directed into the xenos line.

Lamech sneered as the eldar leader, clad in sleek, smooth armor, cut his way through two of the Drachen with a slender blade. The xenos moved with an unnatural grace, darting his sword between armor and man, and back out again without pause. Lamech hurled himself forward, spinning the whip wildly in his hand before the tendrils snaked out.

The eldar caught the whip on his blade and ripped it from Lamech's hand without pause. It spun on its alien heel, dropping the sword into a merciless cutting posture, and swung it downwards at the suicidal cultist's head. Lamech reached down for something, anything, and his hand closed around a shining crystal embedded in the fallen eldar's chest armor. It felt solid enough to deflect the blow, and heavy enough to bash the thing's head in, and he raised it before him like a shield.

The eldar's strike halted in mid-swing, inches away from the shining crystal in Lamech's hand. The faltered strike cost the xenos balance and interrupted an otherwise flawless kill. The hesitation proved fatal as a Chimera's autocannon shredded the eldar from the waist down in a frenzy of large bullets.

Lamech raised the spirit stone to the flickering light of flames, turning it slowly as if he were an antique dealer admiring a purchase. He didn't know what it was, not really, but the eldar's reaction told him enough.

A malicious grin split the skinned flesh around his lipless teeth as words hissed from his throat.

"Oh, now I've got you..."

He ripped a knife from the bandolier around his chest, and forced the slender stone into the empty holster with some effort. It distorted the leather, but it shone clearly and would be unmistakable in a firefight. If it meant something to the xenos scum, he would force them to give it up, or to strike very, very carefully.

With a howl, he snatched the whip up and snapped it loudly over his head. "Strap the shinies to your armor! We're going hunting!"

* * * *
++HIVE COGGER//INQUISITION CAMP++

Molor stared down the barrel of Alenko's pistol, the sharp stabs of pain from his injuries fading in the place of fear and the certainty of death. He had prepared for this, they all had, but it did not compare to the feeling of being broken in front of the enemy. The raid was a suicide mission, but it had such promise. The penal legion corpses all bore the blocky Imperial collars, and it had not been long before mishandling had discovered the explosives within. Mordecai had gathered them that same day, and tasked them with entering the camp, finding the controls, and ending the enemy with its own tools.

They had failed.

He licked his lips, but his tongue was too dry to do anything. The commissar was saying something, he could see the man's mouth move, but nothing was registering. Molor was thinking about the name. He didn't know what it meant, or for how many untold eons it had swam through the Immaterium, but he could feel its eyes on him now.

"Pa..pah..." He found some saliva and swallowed hard, gathering his remaining strength into his lungs. "Pah'kyr'vull-"

Alenko struck him with the pistol, cutting off his words and forcing his teeth to bite hard into his tongue. But it didn't matter. He didn't need to finish, just needed to get the entity's attention. It fed on fear, savored despair like fine synth, and he had been taught its name in case he was ever capture.

Two sets of gnarled, black fingers slowly unfolded from the cultist's mouth, reaching up and out until the rotted nails had an icy hold on the man's face. The penal legionairres recoiled, swearing loudly as Molor's limbs went limp and he looked to the sky above. With a broken shriek and a sudden snap, the hands tore his skull in two. His body fell to the ground, and the hands vanished into the Warp with a sharp crack.

Spoiler:

Minor victory against Drakka, pushed them back a step or two.
Victory against WK, chewed up a squad pretty well.
Minor defeat against Chazz, Operation:Headsplosion suffers delays.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/06/22 02:04:42


Post by: chazz huggins


7 Hours Ago

The inquisitorial war council was well underway.

Warden Hoffman slammed his fist to the table, “We have the heretics corned let us advance up the center and crush them with are superior force.” Colonel Raven shook his head “Advancing up the center would be a mistake; our enemy has had plenty of time to dig them selves in charging head first would be a slaughter.” Warden Hoffman laughed “My charges would lead the way, I bet they’re eager for some retribution after the stunt those heretics attempted to pull last night.” Captain Kid spoke “I’m with Hoffman on this, advancing up the center would be the quickest path to victory.” Commissar Alenko added “We don’t need to throw everything we have into a center charge, we should split our forces and flank our enemy.” Randall seemed intrigued “You have a plan Commissar?” Jethro nodded “Of sorts.”

The commissar leaned over the table where a map of the upper hive sat. He placed a line of black tokens on the map and reached for more as he began to speak. “Our enemy is sending everything they have to prevent us from advancing. As Warden Hoffman said the bulk of our force will advance up the middle as the enemy would expect. All of our heavy armor up front” Jethro set down the tokens representing the penal legion and inquisitorial storm troopers. “What our enemy won’t be expecting is to be hit from their flanks.” Alenko sat the token that represented the Venatorii forces on the left flank while he placed the token that represented the grey knights on the right flank. “Raven’s men mounted atop their wyrms should be easily able to break through the cultists line on the left, while Captain Athenar’s task force would be small enough to slip through and reek havoc on the right.” Alenko put more tokens representing Raven’s men behind the line of black tiles. Once Raven’s men are through they will fan out behind the enemy preventing their escape. Then the center and right forces will push forward and we will have our foe in a full route.”

Captain Athenar smiled “A classic hammer and anvil maneuver.” Captain Kid studied the map before confessing “I like it.” Hoffman nodded “It is acceptable, provided the Colonel’s men are up to the task.” The colonel nodded “No task too great.” Randall spoke “So we are settled, we strike in six hours ready your men.”

Now

Commissar Alennko walked up the boulevard. In the first hours of the attack they had encountered heavy cultists resistance, but soon enough that resistance had faded away. As they marched deeper behind enemy lines they encountered only stray pockets of cultists. Now they were met exclusively with silence. The only noise that was here was the sound of inquisitorial boots, and the grumble of imperial war machines. The sound was oddly foreign, though Alenko had heard all these sounds before, they melded ill with this place. Alenko knew he was the intruding on something unholy. It was not long before Raven’s men and the Grey knights caught up with the primary force.

Colonel Raven dismounted his wyrm and approached Alenko and Captain Athenar, as Athenar spoke “We met only limited resistance.” Raven added “Same on our end. Have the cultists fallen further back then we anticipated, perhaps to better fortify the citadel?” Alenko eyes widend as he realized their blunder, but before he could voice it Captain Kid’s voice came over the Vox. “We have movement.”

Kid watched the auspex from the cabin of the Malcador tank as dozens of blips approached from all sides. Soon the blips doubled in number and then again doubled.

Alenko uttered “It’s a trap.” Not a moment later hundreds of beasts emerged from their places of hiding. They came from buildings and sewers and every shadow lurked with a pair of twisted eyes. The creatures had no uniform nature to them save that each was horrific. Alenko looked to one razor teeth, horns, blades for arms and a single cyclopean eye.

The Imperials wasted no time firing at the foul chaos spawn, but the creatures wasted even less charging them. A storm trooper fired his las gun at the creature only to be charged and impaled by its scorpion like tail. A penal legionnaire drew his shiv and dashed for the nearest beast, with some luck he struck the beast and planted his blade in its skull. The prisoner’s victory was short lived as another equally horrid creature with the hands of a crustacean pried him in two. One of the beast charged for the tank that held captain Kid. With razor claws the hell spawn shredded open the Malcador’s armor side, its reward was a buck shot from Kid’s shot gun. Commissar Alenko linked to all voxs and ordered the retreat. A demented thing charged for the commissar but was cut off by a wyrm rider. The creature beheaded the wyrm with a swing of a rusted axe, the creature then lifted the rider over head with a tentacle. The rider squirmed and freed his left arm, with that he drew a grenade from his belt and detonated it killing both him and the beast.

The loyalists were in full retreat, though they disengaged their nightmare was far from through. A chimera struck a mine and blew the treads clear off. At this time a mob of cultists revealed themselves and attacked the fleeing Imperials. The Imperials had no choice but to continue to fight their way back to their base camp and fall victim to all the traps that lay in their path.

Prisoner 1597 fired at the enemy behind him whiled dashing forward, one carless step and the steel teeth clamp down. 1597 fell and screamed in agony as the bear trap dug into his flesh. 3434 saw his friend, he wouldn’t leave him like this. 1597 screamed in pain as 3434 attempted to pry the metal trap out of the flesh of his leg. It was no use not without the trap’s key, 3434 drew the hatchet he took from the 8591’s corpse. 1597 shouted “No don’t!” but 34 ignored his request, the hatchet came down on 1597 just below the knee cutting him to the bone. A second swing and 1597 was free. 34 lifted his friend over his shoulder and carried him to the where the rest of the fleeing convoy was fighting.

It was another hour of hellish fighting before the loyalist reached their camp. A dim bastion of hope in an ever darkening hell.

An emergency council was called all the members were wounded to some degree. The silence was heavy. Randall spoke “We have lost only a battle, but the war goes on. You all exemplified honor and bravery today and for that you should be proud. We can not let our enemies demoralize us, we must remain vigilant. I wish I had good news to offer you all, but I don’t.” another heavy silence fell before Randall spoke again “At approximately 1532 Crion time the planetary garrison of Dorn’s shield was assaulted. After a short battle that was a decisive victory in the defenders favor it was confirmed that the attacking force was dedicated to Chaos.” Captain Kid spoke “So that’s it than, everything we’ve done here has been for nothing.” Randall arose “Heresy must be completely purged from Crion now and forever. What we have done here is completely necessary. We can not allow heresy to have any foothold on Crion. So I will see every last these apostate scum dead, and once I am sure every one of these mutineers have ceased breathing I will send this damn hive to oblivion!” Randall regained his composure “Justicar Freeman I am sending you and your squad to assist in the purging of these scum, track them and destroy them by whatever means. When we are finished here we will join you in your hunt.” Freeman pounded his fist to his plate. Randall continued to speak “Rest now, you all earned it.” Silently the war council exited the Inquisitor’s tent, all except Commissar Alenko.

Randall spoke first “Its not your fault Jethro, you had no way of knowing.” Alenko spoke sadly “So many died, if we would have advanced up the center we might not have lost so many.” Randall spoke “Jethro you have two options. You can sit and wonder what you could have done better, wonder about how many men you could have saved so they could die somewhere else, wonder why the emperor let you fail. Or you you can get mad, plot your vengeance and fantasize about how you will make your enemy suffer at your hands. I only have room in my army for the second kind of man.” Alenko pondered on those words for a brief moment before standing to leave the tent.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/06/23 13:20:16


Post by: Sgt_Smudge


The reports did not cease flooding in. All clear from the patrols, no risk of Imperial retribution, the Blood Dragon excavation teams were hauling plenty of resources from the ruins, and the training of the Cadre's Fire Warrior teams was proceeding as normal.
The Ros Hannoi detachment was on indefinite stand-down protocol, following the pact with the Imperium. However, Skyhunter had still insisted on keeping them stationed and reporting from Ros Hannoi, and kept them shielded from the Imperium's hawkish gaze.
Gue'vesa'El Vandred had since returned to Cadre Command, bringing news of AHC-02 and the Tiller's movements. Skyhunter and Shadowbrand's away team was still stationed on the outskirts of Black Water Bastion, although Skyhunter had confirmed that they were finding their deployment untenable and hard to justify for much longer. They would return soon, but would maintain a brief comm silence in response to a recent influx of troops into the fortress.

That would have been joyous news for Fio'El Mirrorstone, if it hadn't been for a certain two reports. And in the absence of Skyhunter to give orders, her job would become a lot harder.

Mirrorstone, Vandred, and Darkspear all stood around the holographic map of Crion. Two sigils were lit in brilliant red hues, contrasting to the normal blue. The leering grin of Waaagh! Hannibal in the north, and the axe-rake of the Tillers in the west. Darkspear regarded both sigils with a wary eye. Mirrorstone sighed, and prompted the meeting.

"Sub-Commander Vandred. You bring word from the Tillers?"

The man stretched out, his dark face wincing as his wiry body pulled taught. "Yes, comrade. Captain Nassau has called upon our aid to support him in a siege against the Imperial City of New Pavus."

"Do you realise the issue with that?" Mirrorstone interjected. "We have pledged allegiance to both factions. We cannot take sides. Your capture of AHC-02 was successful, because the Imperium didn't associate us with it. But this? This is far different, Gue'vesa - there's no way we can move to war with-"
"So you would have us break our oaths?" Vandred spat back. "We can't decline Nassau. He reached out to us, and I gave him my word. If we keep back, and avoid straight conflict, we can aid the siege, and get them inside. Once that happens, our job is over."

"You're playing a dangerous game, Vandred. Whoever we support, we betray an oath. Frankly, I'd rather not antagonise the Imperium. The Tillers are less of a threat to us."

"I fought alongside the Tillers. They treated us with honour and respect. It would be dishonourable not to repay them the same."
Vandred sighed. "Here's my proposal - I take a light reconnaissance cadre to mark up weak points of the fortification, set down demolition charges, and sabotage what we can. We wear nothing affiliating us to Sunstrike, and use enhanced Imperial weaponry with networked markerlights. If we equip marksman units with Kroot sniper rifles, we can even take out sentries without drawing attention to us." He looked approvingly to the two other commanders. Mirrorstone didn't like the idea, but she had to be diplomatic. Mirrorstone looked to Darkspear.

"You've been quiet on this matter, Kor'El. Your thoughts?" Inside, she wished he'd side with her. She was disappointed.

"The plan works, if you're willing to do it yourself. I can arrange an Orca to drop you off at the Tiller field camp."
Vandred grinned, his teeth stark against his face - Mirrorstone ignored it.
"Okay Gue'vesa - prepare to take no more than three score troops to support you. Take only what you need, and keep our hands clean. I will inform Shas'O Skyhunter of your objective." Vandred nodded, concealing the grin splitting his face.
She returned to Darkspear. "And what was your report?"

Darkspear pointed at the sigil of Hannibal, only a matter of miles away from Cadre Command, in Avarqwell. "Our allies ran into a bit of a problem assaulting a rival ork boss known as SkullEater. If we want to keep our allies alive, we should aid them, before they destroy themselves trying to take down SkullEater."

"What threat does SkullEater pose to us?" Mirrorstone replied. Scepticism dripped from her tongue. "Why should we destroy a force which means no threat to us? If they come, they will fall on our walls and be repelled like any other greenskin warband."

"Sub-Commander, this boss is supported by an off-worlder. The brutality of a feral ork alongside the cunning of a foreign ork? We should be concerned. This is no normal Waaagh. They've been massing in the forests, cleaving through the woods. Their Waaagh is so large that my own recon flyers have seen their path. If we want to destroy them, now is the time to do it." Darkspear received a nod from Vandred. Both eyes were on Mirrorstone. Pressure fell onto her. She cursed herself silently.

"Fine," she said. "Prepare the majority of Sunstrike Cadre, and send word to Hannibal. Tell him to begin the assault on SkullEater. We will do the rest."

All three Sub-Commanders saluted one another. Vandred and Darkspear left the meeting room, and Mirrorstone fell onto her chair. She just hoped that her choices were right.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/06/24 19:17:46


Post by: Ezra Tyrius


"What's the matter", Aurelius spoke, his familiar voice sending a shiver down the Sorcerer's spine. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

Hell itself shrieked as the Sorcerer instantly unleashed his powers against the shade. Great arcs of lightning launched through the room, immolating the shadows in which the figure bearing Aurelius' face tried to hide. The Sorcerer barely heard its laughter over the sound of his own voice screaming in disbelief.

"Come now, Sorcerer? Can you not appreciate a good joke?”, Aurelius laughed, as he sidestepped another Doombolt heading his way. He darted across the room with contemptuous ease, weaving between the lightning unleashed from the Sorcerer’s fingertips, his red eyes flickering wildly against the darkness of the shadows.

The Sorcerer replied by flinging a container in his direction with telekenisis, which Aurelius dodged by leaping over the impromptu projectile with an unnatural elegance. He was about to follow up with another witty remark when the Sorcerer’s Power Maul slammed into his face at hellish speed, sending him flying into the container. Not a second later, the Sorcerer was upon him again, his eyes shining a bright, hateful blue. A devastating blow struck Aurelius’ abdomen, knocking the wind out of his lungs, but he kept laughing, even as blood began to run over his lips.

A Power-armoured fist wrapped itself around his throat, clenching tightly as it heaved him up against the container. Aurelius looked upon the Sorcerer, a wide smile still across his face even as his body struggled against the psyker’s iron grip.

“Who are you?!”, the Sorcerer’s question was filled with a mixture of genuine confusion and boundless hate.

The figure laughed, coughing up a gob of blood. “I am Acting-Captain Hadris Aurelius, of the Ultramari-“

Before it could finish its sentence, the Sorcerer slammed the shade into the container again, nearly cracking its skull in the process.

“DO NOT LIE TO ME, DAEMON”, the Sorcerer hissed, his psychic overspill manifesting as small bursts of lightning flashing around his armour. “HADRIS AURELIUS IS FAR OUT OF THE REACH OF YOUR PITIFUL KIND.”

The shade smirked, and stared the Sorcerer dead in the eyes. “Ah yes, the Acting-Captain’s mysterious disappearance. Only a footnote in the Charadon Crusade, but an interesting one to say the least”, it spoke, a hint of amusement in its eyes. “Even my master does not know where the strands of his fate lead to.”

The Sorcerer cast him a quizzical look, which seemed to amuse the figure even further. “You don’t understand, do you? Why my skin is the same as your precious Acting-Captain’s. How I know of what happened in the Charadon system”, it continued, his eyes glinting malevolently.

“But what if I showed you... this?”

From a pocket on his belt the pseudo-Aurelius produced a single item.

A syringe.

The Sorcerer’s eyes widened as a horrible realization dawned on him. The sample. The very first sample he took from Aurelius. The sample that was stolen by-

“My master”, the shade grinned, blood still dripping from his bruised face. “Now tell me, Sorcerer…”

Aurelius’ eyes darkened, his skin paled and tightened around his bones and great fangs sprouted from his mouth as he raised himself up from the cold, bloodstained floor.

“What exactly is it you did to the Acting-Captain?”

And with a feral growl, the daemon Aurelius leaped towards the Sorcerer, both physically as psychically.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/06/25 16:09:03


Post by: Palleus


The night’s sky was lit up by the light of Hannibal and his welders working on a massive scaffold that surrounded two of Hannibal’s projects. Large plates of scrap metal were pulled upwards before they were welded, and riveted into place over massive joints to colossal limbs, all according to Hannibal’s vision. Mid construction, it was difficult to tell what sort of metal monstrosities the twin would become, but it all fit in his mind, as he welded, riveted, and barked instructions through the night. Come daybreak, his visions would become reality, and he would revel in the sight of his creations wreaking havoc on Skull Eater’s lines.

“Boss! ‘ey, boss!” Called a boy to Hannibal. Hannibal lifted his welding helmet, and turned to look at him. It was one of the sentries. Since the attack, he had to place sentries outside the wall breach, now that the gaping hole meant that only someone with a death wish would patrol on the battlements.

“Wat iz’ it?”

“We’z got company, boss. It’s tha’ blue-skins.”

“How many of ‘em?”

“Jus’ one, boss. Dey sent some sort’a little flyin’ robot.”

Hannibal’s eyes gleamed in the dark. “Really, now?”

*************************************************************************************

The ground thundered with the sound of heavy footfalls as the Iron Horde marched through the jungle. The sunrise gleamed red off of their iron shield and spears. The more superstitious boys called it an omen from Gork, that a red sunrise means oceans of blood before mid-day. This only proved to further excite the Horde, as jeers and shouts could be heard occasionally over the march. The army was practically giddy. Not only would it undoubtedly be a great fight, but it was for revenge. The enemy had already proven themselves worth the effort, and now they were going to see who truly was best.

The excitement was palpable.

Smoke billowed as Hannibal kept up with the boys on his bike as he rode alongside his fellow nobs. Even Gort’s sour disposition was lessened by the upcoming battle. War was in his blood, and as the battle drew nearer, he could not help but beat his metal claws against the frame of his bike-chariot, matching the rhythm of the march. His teeth bared as his heart raced, eager to dig his claws into the green flesh of the enemy.

After a few hours marching, the Iron Horde came face to face with Skull Eater’s forces inside a massive fortress.

“Thunda’ Castle,” as it had come to be called by the orks, was once an ancient stronghold long lost to the jungle. Who built it first was something the local orks either did not know, or just did not care about, as they happily bolted more and more armor onto it, turning it into a ramshackle fortress of incredible size. As the Iron Horde encroached onto the fort, alarm horns sounded, and the doorways soon flooded with Skull Eater’s orks.

“Tha’ blue-skins were right, eh?” Came Ace’s voice as his truck pulled up next to Hannibal. It was the same one they captured from the Skull Eaters before, and its cannon sat still, generously oiled and ready to rain death on a moment’s notice. “Didn’ fink ‘dere were ‘dat many of ‘em.” He said, tightening a strip of cloth over his healing arm wounds.

Hannibal nodded. There were indeed many orks, judging by the looks of their clothing and weapons it was clear that Skull Eater had been busy recruiting from the fallen warbosses’ tribes. His eyes narrowed as he recognized an unknown tribe among Skull Eater’s ranks, and wondered if the northern tribes had fallen as well. It was clear to Hannibal that his forces were outnumbered nearly two to one, but his jaw merely clenched with resolve. He would have Skull Eater’s head on a pike this day, and be rid of this thorn in his side.

“Gort.” He said, calm in the face of the oncoming storm. “Get tha’ boyz ready. We’z goin’ in.”

Gort grinned as he tapped his chariot twice, signaling Speedy to gun the engines and run him across the front lines of the Iron Horde.

“Get in line boyz! ‘Dis iz it!” He bellowed over the roar of the engine. Orks obeyed under his harsh voice, falling into place and locking shields one with another, and sticking their spears out front, forming a solid line of iron towards Skull Eater’s army.

“Let’s go, boyz!” Gort shouted, and as one, the Iron Horde marched forward.

Hannibal grinned as he saw his army in action. Turning to one of his nobs, he spoke with eager eyes. “Give tha’ signal. Bring ‘em in.”

Putting a large horn to his lips, the nob blew, sounding a great deep note that carried across the battlefield. A cheer rose from the Iron Horde’s ranks, as the thunder of massive footsteps joined the chorus of their march. From out of the jungle strode two giants of war. Massive metal feet crushed the underbrush as they marched forwards. One was given a giant metal shield on its arm with iron letters riveted on baring the name “Da ‘Eadsman,” and an equally sized axe on the other. Among many other weapons, the guns that had once belonged to the jets that assaulted Iron Skull fortress had now been bolted together to form a colossal chain gun that rested on its shoulder.
The metal monster’s twin was similarly designed. A shield on one arm fitted with an array of metal balls and spikes among its own name “Da Guardian,” and a javelin the size of a full grown black ore oak on the other. On its shoulder sat a weapon of unknown destruction. A creation of Hannibal’s vision, and covered with wires that sporadically arced in a pale green light.

Hannibal’s heart soared as he gave the order with a toothy grin.

“FIRE!”

The ‘Eadsman’s monstrosity of a chain gun roared to life, drowning out the sounds of the march as hundreds of shells flew against Skull Eater’s horde in an instant, ripping though the battle line in a furry of hot lead and blood.

Kans and other ork walkers moved towards the Iron Horde, shielding their lesser green-folk from the death rain, as they spat shots from their machine guns and rocket launchers. Many of the bullets deflected off of the shield wall, but the rockets struck home, and began to blast chunks out of the formation. As Gort shouted over the battle’s racket to reform the ranks, the Guardian took aim with its prototype custom cannon. Electricity arced all around the cannon for a brief moment before a large ball of pale green energy soared from the barrel with a hollow roar. The energy flew towards the oncoming kans, as it made contact, it did not slam into the Kan as much as simply pass through it, disintegrating the kan silently, leaving nothing but a few untouched pieces to clatter to the ground, glowing green on the edges that where closest to the energy ball.

The energy flew a little further, burning halfway through another kan before suddenly collapsing in on itself, transforming from the large pale green ball to a small bright green speck in seconds, before it lashed out in a violent explosion, ripping the nearby ground apart in a brilliant display of light.

Hannibal watched all this with a sickening gleam in his eye. He grinned wide as he witnessed the explosion, and eagerly called up to the Guardian’s pilot. “Again! Fire again! Take out tha’ kans!”

The gunners were more than happy to oblige, and soon Skull Eater’s ranks were being pumped full of energy blasts, and shells from the two iron giants. Ace had his trukk move closer, and ordered his boys to join in on the attack, blasting with their personal weapons as the trukk’s cannon lobbed explosive shells on the enemy.

Even though the death and destruction, Skull Eater’s mob still moved forward. Wither they were confident in their vastly superior numbers, or afraid of their leader’s wrath if they did not fight, they still pushed forward. They closed the gap quickly, rushing to the shield wall as fast as their legs could go. For a brief moment, the shield wall held, and the green bodies where met with a wall of iron and spears. But then the chaos broke. The spirit of the fight was too much for the Iron Horde to bare, the song of gunfire and weapon clashing against flesh called to them, and the Iron Horde’s formation broke as they rushed into the Skull Eater’s forces with a blind vigor. Ork against ork, the battlefield became a tangled mass of green bodies clashing together with axe, spear, and shield. The order of the front lines fell to chaos, and soon it became difficult to tell who on the front lines belonged to whom.

Hannibal watched as the order of the phalanx had been cast aside, and now only the chaos of battle remained as a great symphony of war played across the battlefield in gunfire, weapon strikes, and cries of the living and the dead.

It was beautiful.

Hannibal shook himself from his awestruck stupor, and refocused his mind. “Hit tha’ back row!” He shouted over the din to Ace “Tell tha’ big ‘uns to hit tha’ back row too, so’s we don’ hit our own boyz!”

“On it, boss!” Ace confirmed, as he continued to fire green bursts of energy into the foe; although, this time he aimed towards the back row of Skull Eater’s forces.

Hannibal turned to the horn wielding nob before ordering “Give tha’ signal!”

The nob put the horn to his lips and gave two short blasts and one long, prompting Gort to laugh in excitement.

“Oi! It’z about time!” He said, as he, Hannibal, and the rest of the biker nobs drove around the mob to flank Skull Eater’s forces. On the other side of the battle, Norrik and his spider riders, now clad in iron plates for both the riders and the spiders themselves, heard the sounding of the horn and moved as well. Encircling the giant mob, they moved toward the middle to press on the horde’s flanks. As the nobs squeezed the triggers on their bikes, blasting heavy bullets into the mob, spider riders wearing Skull Eater’s colors rushed towards them, tangling them in a fast paced melee as spider and bike jousted back and forth.

Hannibal swerved to the side, dodging out of the way of a spider’s vicious bite before raking his saw arm against it, sawing off some of the spiders legs before coming up and ripping through the rider’s body as he drove by, leaving a trail of blood in his wake. Gort roared in revelry as he dug his claws into any foe that dared to come close enough to reach. Speedy ducked under spears and fangs as he weaved through the foes, doing his best to provide ample targets for Gort’s bloodlust.

Norrik’s riders met a similar resistance, spider against spider, and rider against rider. Norrik’s forces had the advantage of armor, but the other riders had the numbers. He rode quickly into the melee, swinging his spear with the precision of a hundred battles, he cut off a foreleg of a nearby spider, and taking advantage of its momentary imbalance, plunged his blade into its gasping maw. The rider pitched forwards has his mount thrashed about in its death throes. Norrik gave his spider a well-practiced nudge, and the beast tore into the exposed rider with its fangs, severing his spine and ending his life.

As the battle raged, Hannibal managed to pull back for a moment and observe. Over the clash of battle came the unmistakable growl of ork jets riding on plumes of black smoke as they crested over the horizon.

“We gots planes, boss!” Shouted Ace as witness the encroaching enemy. “Were’z tha blue-skins?”

Hannibal smiled as he looked to the sky. “ ’Dere already ‘ere.”


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/06/25 16:23:30


Post by: Sgt_Smudge


Crion's sun was blotted out. The grotesque shadows of the frenzied mass of orks were extinguished, their darkness overwhelmed by something far more. Their confused porcine faces twisted to the sky. Their jaws gawped. Hannibal screamed out over the confusion.
"REFORM THE PHALANX!"

The Invincible Retribution had come.

A Tau Manta, just one of Sunstrike's vast armada, loomed over it's prey. Under it's vast wings, entire shoals of Orcas, Razorwings, Sun Sharks and Barracuda attack craft dived to attack. The clustered orks below fought to breach Hannibal's reforming shield wall, throwing themselves at the slab shields. Their choppas cut rents in the metal, their hammers caving in the walls, their sluggas blowing out chunks of ork-forged iron.
It would not save them.

Markerlights, aimed by Pathfinders from circling Orca dropships, guided pulse bombs from the Sun Shark bombers, blowing handfuls of orks asunder. Other markers instead aimed at the great fortress of SkullEater himself, letting the great teeth of the Barracudas sink in and tear it apart. SkullEater's orks, and Hannibal's own, were packed like fish in a can. Under the shade of the great Manta, bright flashes illuminated the battlefield. Each one heralded new screams, new sights - it seemed to the orks below as if the world itself were reeling and quaking from the horrific bombardment. Then the Manta's troop bays parted, and the battle was joined.

Crisis Suits fell like comets onto the ork line, their twin flamer mounts spitting fire behind them. Their jets halted just over the ork hordes beneath. They fired. Rampant flame leapt through the greenskins, coursing through their bestial bodies. Hannibal bellowed for his boyz to pull back, letting the fire breath freely through SkullEater's own. His front ranks obeyed, still clutching their shields up. Burning orks charged their lines, maddened and scorching: the cold steel phalanx pushed them back in. The flamers continued to burn. Mirrorstone looked from above, and smiled.

"A success, I think." she barked to Darkspear. The Air caste Tau said nothing. Mirrorstone returned to her instruments. Four drones hung around her, their markerlights deactivated for now. She wanted them ready for when she joined the combat. The battle was going well below: the Crisis bomb tactic had worked well, and after the initial strike, they had pulled back beyond Hannibal's defensive line. The Orcas were starting to land, reinforcing the ork battleline with pulse fire and markerlights. SkullEater was nowhere to be seen. Mirrorstone strode into the troop bay of the Invincible Retribution, and hopped into her Battlesuit.

Darkspear's voice rang in her ear.
"You're going down there?"

"I can't see SkullEater from here. I trust my own markers to find that wretch."

"Suit yourself, Fio'El." Darkspear snickered for a moment. "Just be aware of some reading on my sensors here. Electronic activity coming in on the east."

"Understood." Her suit juddered into life, and she dropped through the exit hatch, her drones trailing behind like a flock of baby geese after their mother.



Mirrorstone hovered beneath the Manta's shadow. Already, the damage done to SkullEater's massive Waaagh! was resolving itself, and the orks were rallying. From her new vantage point, she could see the battle more clearly. Ex-Boyz of Nogrod's warband hurled curses at the sky, trying to seek vengeance for the destruction of their camp. The assimilated warbands of Boss Koregog were less vengeful, focusing more on the shield wall penning them in. But SkullEater's own boyz were not going out quietly.
Already, they had taken the charred corpses of their fallen comrades and were breaching the shield wall. Instead of massing against Hannibal, SkullEater was applying massive force onto the left flank. The line was beginning to crumble, as the orks began their breakout. From her lofty heights, she ordered the deployed Tau to reinforce the flank. At her word, three wings of Crisis Suits arced over, roasting the most vicious of the greenskins. As they staggered through the flame, pulse fire from entrenching Breachers tore the Nobs apart. But Hannibal's casualties, and the vast size of SkullEater's host, still left the coalition outnumbered. Mirrorstone knew that the only way to bring this battle to a swift end would be to end SkullEater himself. Her markerlights hopped from target to target, sweeping through the largest orks like wildfire. Finally, they settled on the beast perched on top of a pile of corpses, toting a cruelly spiked battleaxe and clad in hulking Mega Armour. His bloody jaw spat out foul spittle and orders to the swarming creatures around him. Mirrorstone looked closer. The necklace of cracked skulls around his trunk-like neck confirmed the beast.
Boss SkullEater was in her sights.

"I have a lock on SkullEater! Prepare seeker missile batteries to fire on my m-"

"Overruled," Darkspear interjected. Mirrorstone began to retort, when the Early Warning Override on her suit began to scream. "Aircraft inbound." Darkspear's tone was clipped and precise. In the cockpit, he always was. "Commandeering all available fighters and missile systems."

"No, I have a lock on SkullEater! We can end this now!" she shouted. "We can spare a few missiles, surely?" SkullEater's eyes fell on her, daring her. "Take the shot!"

"Look." Darkspear's command forced her head to face the scrambling fighters. Buzzing swarms of Dakkajets, Chinorks, Deffkoptas and Bommas hovered around their vast cousin. Bristling with guns, shedding armour plates from it's lumbering hull, propelled by myriads of jets, propellers and air balloons - the Sky Fortress limped through the sky. Already, it's rudimental artillery stained the air, alongside the contrails of flyers. "This is the Big Boss - SkullEater's off world ally. And this is his host. We're outnumbered." Darkspear paused, relishing this fight. "These bastards will not take the sky from us. I need everything I can get."

Mirrorstone growled in anger, and watched as SkullEater leered at her before retreating into his walls. His boyz fought harder, the false eclipse giving them courage. The line buckled.
"Fine." sighed Mirrorstone. Her suit began to dash through the sky, her drones painting shoddy ork craft moments before barrages of seeker missiles ripped them apart. "Strike from the Sun."

Tau fighters were scrapped by rampaging Stormboyz mobs, dropping grenades into their path. Stormboyz took off from the deck of Chinorks and the Sky Fortress, only to paint the sky red when burst cannons ripped them apart. Deffkoptas sawed through unwary flyers, their buzzsaws shredding the armour plate. Mirrorstone's own markers, alongside those of some Sun Shark bombers, lit them up. Explosions bruised the sky.
Bombers of each race dived over both the Sky Fortress and the Invincible Retribution. Corpses of slagged aircraft ploughed into the superheavies' hulls just as often as the bombs did. The Manta's point defence guns were blasting away, ruining the shoddy ork fighters with mechanical precision. On the other side, the crude flakk guns on the Sky Fortress peppered the Tau craft with simple weight of fire, flying through literal walls of lead rain.

Mirrorstone glided into the path of the Sky Fortress, and scanned it's rough-shod hull. The hulk's plating was literally falling apart, raining onto the battle below. The armies were slaughtering eachother, the drab coloured Tau only barely resisting the swarming orks. Even the Crisis vanguard were hard pressed. For the first time, Mirrorstone was glad for the alliance with Hannibal. Despite being outnumbered, they were the only thing holding SkullEater's swarm at bay - and Mirrorstone would break the deadlock once and for all.

Another plate fell off, finally revealing a path into the fortress. She dashed in, avoiding the web of pipes and support rods, aiming for the ramshackle command bridge. Four mega-armoured Nobs stood around a throne, guffawing and chanting at the ensuing chaos. A gnarled hand tapped at buttons from the throne. Mirrorstone landed on the bridge. The Nobs turned to face her, hefting their power klaws. She grinned. Her Battlesuit was weaponless, as they knew well. But they forgot that the Battlesuit WAS a weapon.
They learned far too late, as their bodies fell off the parapet and through the bottom of the airship.

Mirrorstone shook off the gore coating her limbs, and returned to face the shrivelled ork in the throne. It was ancient, with its flesh hanging off: like its malign cunning. This was the 'Big Boss' Darkspear had mentioned. It's lipless mouth turned up and grinned at Mirrorstone.
"And wot are you gonna do? Kill me? Dis ship can run wivout me. I've fought worse than you, ya pathetic runt hiding in dat armour. Kill ma ship? You ain't got the dakka. Dis is da airship dat destroyed Vergengrad, da great Imperial city on Alemaigne! Run back home, fishy - you ain't beating da Big Boss! No-one 'as, and no-one will!"
He reached for a kustom-mega slugga, and blasted it at Mirrorstone. Her neuroweb jammer fried the safety limiter on the gun, igniting it's power core and blowing Big Boss' hand off. He yelped in anger, clutching his smoking wrist. Mirrorstone sauntered over to him.

"You're right. But you just let me scan your entire ship. I know EVERY weak point of this ship. I know that there's no way off this ship. And now my marker drones have painted each critical target for the entire fleet." She lifted off from the ground, and hovered in his face. "You might fly under the sun: we strike from it."

Explosions rippled across the Sky Fortress. Big Boss glanced at the exterior cameras, and looked on in horror as Barracuda wings shot past the ork fighters, and aimed like a spear at the structural weak points of his great creation. Railgun fire tore through the plating like wet paper. Entire sheets of metal were slagged, plummeting below. Another engine failed, falling to two Barracudas hunting it. Mirrorstone pulled out of the rapidly disintegrating death trap, her drones zipping behind. The ork fleet, now realising the tide was turning, was thrown into disarray. Some craft went out in a blaze of glory, crashing into Tau fighters and sending both craft spiralling to Crion. Others turned tail and broke, returning from whence they came. Some of the orks on board the Sky Fortress, seeing hope down below, grabbed makeshift parachutes and jumped overboard. Those who actually had working parachutes were cut down by the waiting Razorsharks below. Across the Tau comms channel, Darkspear's voice dripped with barely contained satisfaction.
"All fighters, proceed all out attack. Bring the bomber down onto the orks below. Make them pay."

More explosions rippled across the Sky Fortress' hull. It dipped, falling in the face of the Invincible Retribution, feebly trying to stay upright. Big Boss frantically hammered at buttons. It was useless. He felt his guts turning as the writhing sea of orks swam up to meet him.
Big Boss got a last chance to scream before the Sky Fortress smashed into SkullEater's horde.



The ground battle was still raging on. The air battle was won, the efforts of Darkspear's air caste repelling the vast ork aerial assault, but the combined forces of Hannibal's boyz and Mirrorstone's soldiers were still locked in a standstill with SkullEater's horde. Many of them had been crushed by the falling Sky-Fortress, but they kept fighting around it's burning husk. Volleys of pulse fire and waves of savage choppa blows tore through SkullEater's main host. In return, they fought back with tooth and nail, sheer muscle and rage smashing into Hannibal's boyz. Their morale was flagging: Big Boss, SkullEater's off world sponsor, was dead, crushed in his own Sky Fortress. But whilst SkullEater yet lived, their spirit would not break. The battle raged on.

Mirrorstone touched down onto the bloody earth. Her Crisis Suit bodyguard were burning a path through the ork masses with fusion blade and flamer, fighting towards Hannibal. The ork was lodged in the centre of the scrum, hacking and blasting at anything not in his colours. Mirrorstone walked towards him. Without command, the Crisis Suits cut into the battlefield like a hot knife through butter, and approached Hannibal. The boss paused mid-swing, and acknowledged the hulking Battlesuits around him. He battered his good hand on his chest, and spoke.

"Dat was a good plan, bluie. Appreciated."

"My thanks, ork," she barked. "But this battle is not over yet." Hannibal cocked his head. "SkullEater fled inside that Blood Dragon ruin - he's holed up in there now. Root him out, and you never have to worry about him again."

Hannibal grinned. "Oh, I'm aware. I was just waitin' for my allies to join me in goin' in."

"What allies?"

"You, ya blue-skinned git." Hannibal winked. "Ya didn't think I was going in there meself, did you? You come wiv, and help me flush 'im out. One thing - he's MY kill, understand?"

Mirrorstone had no choice but to accept. "Understood, Be'gel. A small taskforce will accompany me inside. Once we get you to SkullEater, he's all yours."

Hannibal grinned. "Now DAT'S what I like to hear!"

They both turned and looked through the throng of clashing orks. The maw of the ruined Blood Dragon fort was waiting. SkullEater was waiting.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/06/25 22:42:42


Post by: chazz huggins


Warboss SkullEater entered the jagged gates of Thunda Castle. The orks that were stationed here looked at him, he could see the beedy red eyes’ of his men, judging him, questioning his worth, each glare branded him a coward. The once mighty SkullEater; champion of Gork, slayer of the Zurn RokGob, the would be overfiend of Crion, now but a pathetic husk of himself.

SkullEater reached the stairs that led to his inner sanctum, there a trio of nobs waited for him. One of Korgog’s old Lieutenant’s, a shaman from Nogrod’s clan, and last his own underboss. They stood in his path, the boss shouted “Out of me way you gitz.” One of them spat, “We don’t think you got what it takes to lead no more SkullEater.” One laughed “cowards can’t fight propa.” Another spoke with a wicked grin as he drew his knife “We thinks its time for a change in leadership.” They charged at SkullEater a lethal mistake.

The enraged warlord grabbed his former second by his throat, he broke his spine with the hydraulics of his klaw. He threw that corpse at the shaman pinning him to the floor. The Bloody’s old ork was seized by his arm, SkullEater then proceeded to live up to his name sake by biting into the side of the ork’s head removing, flesh, bone and brain. Skull eater then walked over to the pinned shaman, the ork begged for mercy as the warboss brought his steel boot down on his head, flattening his face and ejecting gore from either side of his head.

SkulleEater turned to see dozens of orks around him. The boss spat out the fragments of the lieutenant’s scalp and skull “Any of you lot think you ard enough to take on da mighty SkullEater.” Silence. “NO! Then get back to zoggin work, and you hear anyone questioning my leadership, you tell them what appened ere right now!” The orks all scurried off to preform their commanders will. With a growl Skulleater turned and proceeded up the steps to his inner sanctuary.

SkullEater was at last alone. He knew not what to do, without Big Boss’s air force he didn’t stand a chance. The ork unleashed a feral growl and kicked over a fire pit. However, SkullEater was not as alone as he thought as a voice spoke from the shadows “Dis is why we can’t have nice things.” SkullEater raised his big shoota “Who da zog said dat!” A match was struck and cigar was lit, the dim red light revealing only vague details about the orks face. SkullEater growled “I said who da zog iz you!” With an exhale of smoke the ork stepped into the light. “Names Gadnuk, and Big Boss ain’t too happy with you.”


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/06/25 22:55:13


Post by: Irishpeacockz


Before Prophet Garathal and his disciples departed their new found home, there was a number of issues to be seen to, Kremus dragged his bad leg through the mud that was smeared all over the courtyard over to his master “My lord, we have found some quarries that were abandoned much like this outpost but they seem to have hit a snag, they cannot figure out how to get the stone up here, getting it up a steep slope is hard enough but with loose footing from the mud it-” “Silence worm, stop wasting my time with such nonsense and get Drelos and Kalnar to lift them up, patch the hole in the wall and reinforce the others, the cathedral shall be built in the center and I want all the towers along the wall rebuilt and the insides cleared out. I want a reliable way up this hill, carve a staircase out of stone up to the main gate which also need to be remade and make sure to add a preservative to the wood otherwise it will rot, I only want one entrance, one weakness in the structure which we must remain vigilant of. The Barracks,mess halls, armouries and training grounds shall be placed around the Cathedral itself and I want a private study to be made which adds onto the Cathedral, accomplish all this and I shall be pleased” bowing Kremus hobbled away barking orders to two cultists who were standing around and chatting. Garathal turned to his bodyguard who was as silent as the grave “Apostle Galrass gather the Apostles and tell Brother Anlock to gather a portion of his plague marines, we move out in 10 minutes”. Stomping across the busy Courtyard Garathal managed to find Bazael surrounded by his beastmen kin and where the went, swarms of flies followed. “Shaman, Nurgle has need of your warriors, particularly the Pestigors, gather a party and have them group up A with the Apostles” the beastman nodded “It will be done at once my lord” Baezael turned to leave but Garathal was not done “Nurgle has entrusted to you with the knowledge to spread his gifts, you shall use them. Spread his gifts to the local fauna and wildlife, when I return from my trip I want to feel at home” kneeling the shaman grinned “With pleasure my Prophet”. Departing for the clearing made for the thunderhawks, Garathal and his party embarked to Hive Cogger to see the state of these Cultists and whether they are worth his time.

As his little fleet approached Hive Cogger Garathal managed to get through to someone on the ground “Who dares to approach Hive Cogger which is conquered in the Flayed Lord’s glorious name ?!” Garathal would have rolled his eyes but they had rotted away long ago, he turned to his Apostles “Nothing worse than a cultist who doesn't know his place” turning back to his vox Garathal retorted “Nurgle's chosen has arrived clear a few landing pads, I have brought a few friends” cutting off vox communications Garathal peered through a slit in the side of the aircraft, the hive was covered in darkness except for the fires of the imperial’s camped outside and the fires of battle that raged inside the hive itself. It was clear to Garathal that the cultists have the odds stacked against them especially against Imperial armor luckily Garathal has brought just the thing for the tin cans, a nice bargaining chip thought Garathal .The Disciples of Decay landed on the rusted space that was cleared for them on which stood dozens of cultists holding up their autoguns with a nervous yet viperous demeanor. One cultist stood out from the horde “Who dares to encroach on lands that fly the Flayed Lord’s banner ?” Simultaneously the three
Hatches of the Thunderhawks opened spreading forth a foul aroma followed by flies and maggots which hit the wave of cultists like waves against the rocks, the cultists backed off from the pungent smell which they found to be intolerable with some coughing uncontrollably. A booming laughter emerged from the center Thunderhawk as Prophet Garathal emerged with his anointed seven in tow. From the left emerged the Chaos champion Brother Anlock and his plague marines, the champion’s body was bloated with his yellow skin having rotted and his hair has fallen out long ago, he armed himself with a Bile Spewer, Papa Nurgle's version of a flamer which can spew out his toxic substances to foes. While the plague marines themselves sported a variety of weapons they all had the same thing maglocked to their hip, the dreaded plague swords. These rusted blades drip with the diseases of their master and on,y the most devout in Nurgle's eyes shall be worthy of bearing them like his glorious children who call themselves plague marines. From the right emerged the beastmen cultists whose armor was salvaged from anything they could find and weapons were generally autoguns while the more bloodthirsty beastmen had clubs or sharpened metal poles. The cultist spoke up again “What is the point of such an entrance ? If you are here to take Cogger from us yo-” Garathal laughed again “Take Cogger from you ? Run along and inform your master of my arrival before my patience wears thin” the cultist stood firm as did Garathal “My lord is in a meeting at the moment he shall not be disturbed” ignoring the cultist Garathal spyed the Governor’s Spire which towered over all the ruined buildings that were littered across the hive, presuming that their leader was holed up in the spire Garathal turned to his followers “Anlock you have command of the beastmen hold this platform, Apostles with me” the eight giants in terminator armor marched straight through the sea of cultists who parted before the mighty Sorcerer, the cultist who tried to stop Garathal at the landing platform followed him “I suppose I could escort you to Father Lazarus, my lord” Garathal could tell that last part wasn't easy for him to say “Very well, but hurry along you rat you have delayed me long enough”

The Prophet entered the once exquisite tower, he could imagine it in it’s splendour as fragments remain of its once rich past, muddied carpets, finely carved marble pillars who stone was brought from halfway across the Imperium, paintings and ornate suits of armor that once adorned the walls were now mostly plundered, the cultists taking off with the armor and the paintings have been taken down and used to keep the fires going. Taking a flight of stairs Garathal looked out onto Hive Cogger, or what was left of it. The spire stood over everything in Cogger giving one a superb vantage point to see the various skirmishes that were happening throughout the husk of the once great hive. Many buildings were crumbling and in one section the orange jumpsuits could clearly be seen, “so close” realised Garathal, “things must be worse than I thought”. Reaching the top two large doors lay at the end of the corridor which obviously must of been his destination, red carpet ran from the top of the stairs to the twin doors, whether the carpet was red originally or whether it was stained with blood was anyone's guess, as Garathal was getting closer and closer voices could be heard from inside but they stopped as he grew closer, his footsteps giving him away. The cultist stopped at the doors and turned to talk to Garathal once more who shoved the cultist aside and pushed the twin doors opened with a satisfactory creak.

All heads looked to the door as a massive figure waltz through the door followed by seven others similar to his size, his held a scythe with a glowing symbol of Nurgle, if that didn't give his allegiance away then his bodily odour definitely did. Standing Father Lazarus bowed “My lord, it seems today is full of suprises not one but two guests today” he gestured to the edge of the table nearest to the doors please make yourselves comfortable” Garathal walked to the edge of the table but remained standing due to his massive frame with his apostles in formation behind him, he took a moment to observe the other members in the room. At the opossite end of the table sat Father Lazarus who seemed small compared to the terminator clad marines that stood in the room, the man himself sported a Colonel’s Coat which has has seen better days with an artificial blue eye, to his left sat a necron which surprised Garathal not that he would show it, it’s burning red eyes stood out in the dimly lit room, it’s main armor was white which looked similar to ivory in appearance and trimmed with obsidian black, amber energy surged through the necron along with gold accents on various pieces of his armor, he remained silent. Noticing Garathal's glare the Necron spoke up “I am Grulahk of the Kageros Dynasty, we have an agreement with Father Lazarus and thought it would be only fitting to attend” Garathal nodded showing that there was no problem. Across the table from the necron sat two marines behind them stood their ten terminator clad brethren, the taller of the two spoke up “My name is Mithras and my friend here is called K-” “Kusun” spat the other marine cutting his friend off. Mithras was the taller of the two he sported no hair on his face or his head and wore the iconography of the Word Bearers while his friend had a rebreather with a long scar running across his face with a red knot on top and wore the colours of the Black Legion. After some quick observations Garathal introduced himself “My name is Prophet Garathal and I have come to this sector to spread Grandfather Nurgle’ gifts to the fools of the Imperium and release them from their false belief in the rotting Emperor. I am here to see if an alliance can be formed and from the looks of things you could use all the help you can get” Father Lazarus sighed and slumped back into his chair “Honestly Cogger is not the reason I am here it is just a mere stepping stone, these cultists are a mere tool to be used to help me with my true goal of finding the amaranth” that piqued Garathal's interest “What is this Amaranth exactly ?” Father Lazarus shrugged “The chaos gods are not always clear with their messages, but I Will figure it out” “I see” Garathal’s tone suggested he was disappointed at the lack of information on the Amaranth. Mithras spoke up next “You are not the only one searching for something, we seek another warband who call themselves The Remnants, if you help us find them we will help you find the Amaranth and perhaps with Cogger’s Defenses aswell” Father Lazarus considered this a moment “Very well, you help me and I’ll help you” Garathal turned to Mithras “Is there a sorcerer in this warband ?” “Why yes, yes there is, have you had dealings with him ?” “Not quite, while I was praying to the mighty Lord Of Decay I felt a disturbance, a flicker in the warp, sorcerer’s can make such disturbances” Kusun rose out of his chair “Did you manage to track it ?” Garathal shook his head “No, as I said it was but a flicker if it was a sorcerer he must be powerful, powerful enough to hide his presence from me but if he appeared to me for a second perhaps his concentration was broken and if it happened once it may happen again, I will keep a lookout for this sorcerer” satisfied Kusun sat down “And what do you want in return ?” “I may need your help in the future, if I do I expect you to do so, agreed ?” Kusun eyed the rotten sorcerer before Mithras broke the silence “Agreed” “Excellent” grinned Garathal “As for the Amaranth I intend to spread my cultists throughout Crion and her moons, If I am successful I shall make inquiries and if they know anything I will send them your way” Lazarus nodded “You have my thanks” Grulahk spoke up for the first time “While all this this great the Imperium of Man is still knocking on Cogger’s door, My Dynasty is willing to provide troops and advice to defensive formations in this regard. In return we ask that the Imperials be keep away from the Yankor region and maybe in the future if we need any supplies” Lazarus agreed “We can grab the imperium’s attention provided we hold here” Garathal spoke out “I would also be prepared to help Crogger in fact my troops are waiting outside, before you accept my help Nurgle's gifts are for everyone not just the Imperials, your cultists the will receive them just as much the encroaching armies of the Imperium will” Father Lazarus agreed “As I said, they are but a tool do what you like in fact we have a few medbays where our men are too injured to fight perhaps Nurgle could make use of them” Garathal almost squealed in excitement “Most definitely” Lazarus stood once more “Very well my lords if that is everything I still have a hive to defend, we are all helping each other and hopefully things go well” Father Lazarus nodded and departed through the twin doors behind him.

With nothing left to be said Garathal left the way he had came back to Brother Anlock and his waiting forces “Brother Anlock mobilise our forces and coordinate with the cultists here you are tasked with pushing the foul Imperium back and to gift them with Nurgle’s delights” Anlock slammed his rusted breastplate “Yes my Prophet it will be done”. Moving on Garathal quickly found numerous medbays, well if one could call them that. These makeshift centers where more of a place for men to die rather than to get help with men crying out on beds or laying up against walls. Picking one who wouldn't shut up Garathal plunged the curved blade of his staff into the stomach of the cultist ripping his guts out onto the cracked tiled floor, the body collapsed but slowly rose again and stumbled towards a fellow cultist and bit down hard on his neck spreading the infection further. Garathal moved on to the next medical center and repeated the same process Garathal sliced one man open and moved on until all the centers had been visited. Upon returning to the platform where Anlock and his thunderhawks were stationed the once whimpering group of cultists were now a ravenous horde of zombies awaiting a command “Brother Anlock you have the Command, May you carry Grandfather's favour” “May he favour us all” Garathal jumped back on his Thunderhawk and returned to his holy Cathedral, for he had plans to set in motion.

Spoiler:
CHAOS SUPER FRIENDS REUNITE, Actions takes place at Hive Cogger


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/06/26 19:03:48


Post by: Drakka77


Siege of Hive Cogger by the 487th Lunar Venatorii Panther Calvary Regiment[u]

Colonel Raven was fuming at the traitors that set up cunning traps but they were not the only cunning ones here. After the aborted extending of the Inquisitor's control, he went back to his basecamp which was looking more permenant by the day. The encampment grew larger and larger with stalls for each wyrm and horses, as well as facilities to house all the people involved with their care. It was turning into a mini city of its own. His various Battalion and Company basecamps were doing the same as he tracked their progress over vox. He had his three pronged plan already moving forward and the side tracking of the Inquisitor's plan actually helped one prong. Sgt. Holiday bringing Captain Kid here was a good thing.
1st and 2nd Battalions has now completely encircled the great Hive. Lieutenant Colonel Alexander Jones of First Battalion reported several attempts by the Cultists of trying to breach the siege.

The Cultists were trying to transport stuff in and out of the city via a variety of civilian transports. These were no match for the heavy weapons carried on the fast attack platforms of the Lunar Venatorii. One interesting incident was when the Cultists led a breakout attack against and encampment and was killed to a man during the attack. In the Hive they had advantages of terrain, outside it was the guard. A group of cultists tried a charge into the heart of First Battalion encampment to get chewed up by the timed bursts of Heavy Bolters and Heavy Stubbers for each encampment of guard had time to entrench themselves and set up a series of anti infantry and anti armor deenses. Even a couple of Anti air platforms at each encampment was run by the senior gunners of each formation.

The cultists hit the siege outpost at dawn, a long stream of screaming lunatics led by a towering Ogryn with chaos stars etched into its skin and heavy metal plates strapped to its chest. Under heavy fire they reached the outpost's edge, trampling over their own casualties or diving behind their friends' bodies as shields. The ogryn threw soldiers back from his path like they were insects, roaring with rage as it stormed through the first line of defenders, swinging a light pole back and forth in great sweeping motions.

A dark shape flashed overhead, and a wyrm's claws grabbed onto the giant metal shoulder plates, lifting the ogryn off of its feet with a mighty yank, the light pole falling from its hands. The wyrm flapped its wings hard, carrying the giant ogryn as high as it could before the beast could retaliate, and released it a heartbeat later, sending the ogryn sailing into the ground. It hit hard, sending up a spray of mud and bloody spittle amid the sound of shattering bones. The cultists paused in their advance, shock taking over their minds as the wyrm circled once overhead and roared. As one, the cultists turned, retreating back into the hive and abandoning their dead to the field.

The Hive looked odd with a ring of encampments around it. At each of the compass points was a Large encampment each unique to a Battalion. At the North and South was the combined Elements of 4th and 3rd. At East and West was either the First or the 2nd Battalions. Between each major encampment there was a series of satellite encampments each run by a company in the nearest Battalion. Patrols was left up to the mass Calvary of Bikers and Horses of 1st through 3rd, each with an escort of a Flight of Wyrms and one Fast attack vehicle section that included Sentienels and Tauros Buggies. Fourth was setting up the entrenchment for each battalion and company providing complements of true infantry. This was a major effort.

So far the effort not only stopped Convoys of food and supplies down to a trikle for the Heretics, it also caught an interesting piece of information of reinforments to the enemy. The enemy had more of their "bonemen" enter the city. This "Bonemen" were definitely xeno tech, but not completely invulrable. Two of their flying platforms were destroyed by the Melta Lances of the Elite Wyrms of 3rd but a price was payed to stop even that much. Multiple Wyrms are now on recovery and up for bionic repair due to the damage these advanced xeno robots.

3rd Themselves though was able in their retreat from the Choas Spawn and "Bonemen" attacks inside the Hive, to set up and ironclad Basecamp. Elements of 4th with their heavy weapons on Chimeras and Tauroxes were able to clear a couple blocks of traitors and the Flights of Dragons set of a series of nests on the roof tops. One Flight of twenty actually made it back to the Inquisitor's camp and got orders to back up Captain Kid's Element. Apparently that Capatin made a good impression on Colonel Raven. He actually took charge of the Hive Basecamp himself.

After the ambush with the Choas Spawn that killed Private Fredrick Jenkins, The Wyrmriders and Horse Troops had heavy fighting back to their line. Lucky for them while soldiers of 3rd were battling out of the trap that the Inquisition soldiers had led his into, that and the aborted taking of the plaza where 'bonemen' attacked his men. 4th using their Chimera's flamers to clear a few square blocks of all opposition. And 3rd retreated and reinforced the Line 4th had set up.

But not all news was good. His Vox warfare section fowled up badly. They didn't interfere with the Cultist's Communications but disabled all long range communications in the Regiment. To speak to each other they were relying on runners and short range voxes set up at every encampment. This had the Colonel enraged. Especially because everytime they try to communicate long distance a weird message repeats. "The Stars will Bleed."

Spoiler:
Victory. I'm assuming you want to cut off food supplies and such to the heretics, so you do cut off some convoys en route to the traitors, and set up the siege. The cultitsts send a small attack to push you off their doorstep, which fails. A few of the buggers are killed before they retreat.

Defeat. Not only do you fail to interfere with the enemy voxes, but the cultists manage to slip their own interference into your voxes. It isn't a recording device, but it does make long range vox transmissions difficult.

Victory. The beachhead meets its own resistance, but it does get formed.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/06/28 19:09:39


Post by: War Kitten


Moon #2, Hive Cogger

I’ve often been told that there’s no feeling quite like the one that you get just before a battle is to start. That feeling of foreboding, the electricity that seems to build in the air as the timer begins to tick down, the sense that this is just the calm before the storm, and that very soon all hell will break loose. That is the feeling I have right now, as I supervise the preparations for my regiment’s move to Hive Cogger. The only way I can describe it is controlled chaos, Guardsmen and flight crew run past me loading ammo, medical supplies, weapons and spare parts into our Valkyries in preparation for the trip to the Hive. Word has begun to filter in from the regiment stationed outside the Hive that the situation is far more serious than originally anticipated, and so High Command has ordered me and my boys to the Hive to render assistance. “Assistance”, I snort bitterly as I remember that that was the exact word that was used when my role in Cogger was laid before me. What good does High Command expect that a fething air-cavalry regiment will do in a Hive? Those things are most assuredly NOT conducive to the Elysian way of war, and High Command has to know this, so why are they sending us? Do they doubt the loyalty of me and my men? Is that why they are sending us off to this potential death trap? I shake myself fiercely, banishing those dark thoughts to the recesses of my mind where they belong. Now is not the time for me to begin to doubt, doubt leads to hesitation, and hesitation leads to death. As the controlled chaos continues to unfold around me I clench my fists in silent defiance to the dark thoughts that continue to plague me, when the time comes I cannot be found wanting. I’m jolted out of my dark thoughts when Sergeant Jacobson taps me on the shoulder and says “Sir? We’re just about ready to roll, the men are assembling near their assigned transports, and you might want to get moving if you don’t want to be late for your prom date.” The sergeant grins as he’s saying this to show that he’s just teasing, and I return his smile with one of my own. When I do he gives me a crisp salute and jogs off to where the rest of his squad has assembled in front of one of the crimson-armored Valkyries. Jacobson is one of the best commanders this regiment has, and I have a feeling that he and his men will be crucial in the upcoming war. Time and time again he has turned down a promotion to a Platoon Command, content to lead his squad of Veterans. As I turn and begin to jog over to where my own command squad is assembling the feeling of foreboding returns, and I can’t help but wonder what’s going to be waiting for me up there at Hive Cogger.

As the last of the Valkyries settle down on their landing gear outside the Imperial Base Camp set up outside of Hive Cogger that feeling of foreboding still hasn’t gone away. If anything, it has grown even more during the flight over here. We’ve settled down a short distance away from the camp, hoping to avoid any potential misunderstanding with the forces that are already stationed here. We voxed ahead to warn them of our arrival, but you can never be too careful, anxious and trigger happy sentries tend to shoot first and then ask you questions while you’re lying on the ground bleeding. Settling down a short ways away from their camp will let them digest our arrival safely and send out some scouts to meet us and bring us into the camp. I gesture to the disembarking Guardsmen around me to settle down to wait for our new allies. We don’t have to wait long, only a few minutes after we first set down we can see several figures approaching us, and as they get closer their image clears to reveal several Guardsmen mounted on what appears to be giant Wyrms. The Guardsmen around me begin to whisper as the riders get closer, some with excitement, and others with fear. As they get closer I take the opportunity to study them. Each man is clad in carapace plate, with face concealing helmets, and underneath it they are wearing what appears to be leather of some sort. Each individual is armed with a lance and a hot-shot laspistol. The Wyrms themselves are no less impressive, each one exuding a sort of restrained wrath, like a ticking time bomb waiting to go off on some unfortunate foe. The lead rider removes his helmet to reveal a shockingly young looking face and says “Ah, you must be the new arrivals. I’m Sergeant Holiday, and I’ve been sent to escort you boys to the main camp for a meeting with the boss. Pick up your kit and when you’re ready we’ll head out.” As I turn around to issue the necessary orders to my men, I find that they had already picked up their gear and are staring at me with anticipation and without another word we begin to set off with the Wyrm Riders towards the main camp, which slowly gets closer as we begin walking. Behind us the Valkyries begin to slowly lift off and begin their own trip towards the main camp, to set down near the motor pool that we saw as we flew over. The sight banishes the anxiousness that has been gnawing at me for a little while, and I smile softly. The Emperor’s Helldivers are here, and we will bring death to the enemy.

Spoiler:
This is supposed to take place after the Gargant events, but to avoid any continuity issues I made no mention of the Gargant. Heading off to reinforce Drakka.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/06/29 03:51:11


Post by: Kharne the Befriender


=====Yankor, Luna Epsilon=====

“This is Shas’El Tach’var of the Rix’lan Coalition, I am broadcasting this message on Tau radio waves. I have intel indicating your presence here in the Crion vicinity. If you are part of the greater Tau Empire, then you are an enemy. If you are working with the Imperial vermin on this planet, you are an enemy. If you consider yourself an enemy of the Tau Empire and the Imperium, then we will be willing to provide support. You may reach us on this channel to negotiate a meeting.” Tach’var left the communications room with a renewed fervor, he relished in combating the Imperium. He thought back to when he was just a Shas’ui serving under Harax when he was a Shas’vre. Thardega was a gritty battle, he still remembered the campaign, but it had been 10 years, and he had seen new exploits. As he walked down the hall he spotted a particularly regal figure closing the distance, it took a second for his eyes to focus and recognize the figure as Kageros.
“Kageros! What brings you here?”
“Ah, Shas’El, it is good to see you.” His cheery tone quickly faded into a grave one, “Do you know where Grulahk is?”
“He is attending a meeting with the leaders of several Chaos factions, he should be back soon.” He looked over Kageros’ expression, “What has happened?”
Kageros looked a little hesitant but then spoke, “A massive Ork Waaagh has made it’s way towards Voor’Han. I had to recall Rak’than’s fleet from Prin’sheks orbit to help stave them off, but it is a war of attrition we are slowly losing. We need to pull our resources out of Crion to combat this threat, unfortunately, the Megalith will be abandoned.”
Tach’var thought this over for a second, he knew opportunity when he saw it, and this was quite the opportunity. “Perhaps not Phaeron,” This caught Kageros’ attention, “If I can talk to Harax I can convince him to send at least half a Tio’ve to Crion. You can take Grulahk’s fleet-” He was cut short by a metallic voice. Grulahk had arrived.
“What about the fleet?” He turned towards his superior, “Kageros, it is good to see you, too what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Voor’Han is under assault by a massive Ork Waaagh. I came here to pull our forces back to help defend.”
“Abandon Crion? I have just established an alliance with several Chaos factions here, one of them being the Flayed Legion. Do you require the whole fleet?”
“We will see, our friend here was explaining his plan to me.” Both Kageros and Grulahk eyed the grey-skinned Tau with curiosity. The Shas’El felt a little uneasy under the crimson eyes of the metal men, “Well, abandoning this facility would mean abandoning the Megalith. I can talk to Harax and convince him to send a few Cadres here. If you could leave your Canoptek elements and a few phalanxes, we could continue progress on the Megalith and honor your agreements.” A fourth voice rang out, “You will need a Necron command element to stay behind and oversee the work, I volunteer.” The others turned to see Numek walking towards the group, Kephri perched on his shoulder. Grulahk then spoke, “I can leave most of our canoptek elements here. I will also leave a Harvester for you Numek. I will also leave half of our air forces and a legion here to honor my agreements.” Kageros thought for a bit, “That sounds like a plan, Tach’var, you will come with us, I’ll arrange a meeting with Harax on the way.”

=====Rix’lan Command Center, Prin’shek=====

Tach’var was anxious about how the meeting would go, but his proud stride wouldn’t show it. He walked down the hall and stopped at the door leading to the meeting room. The guards at the entrance opened the doors and Tach’var walked into the grand room. It was cylindrical with a large desk towards the back, facing the door. Directly in front of the desk are 2 chairs that face it. Around the room are 6 chairs lining the walls. Behind the desk a hardened figure looked through various papers, a scar running down the right side of his face through his eye. Harax looked up and stood, he and Tach’var saluted each other before each taking a seat. Harax was the first to speak, “Kageros messaged me ahead and told me of your plan. It’s… interesting.” Tach’var looked at the empty chair next to him, “Where is Shas’El Melek?” “His fleet is currently helping the Necrons with the Ork problem, it is far worse than I thought. Had to hire some friends to help.” “Friends?” Harax gave a gruff chuckle and gestured to the window, there was a large encampment a few miles out. “Tarellians. I’ve invited their leader to meet with us, they’ve been a great help against the Ork threat, and given their past… I think they’d volunteer to fight the Imperials.” Only a few seconds passed before the door opened, a reptillian figure entered the room, he was clad in a dark bronze colored armour with etchings on it. “May I introduce Grand Chieftain Rasz’k Xarak, he leads the Tarellians helping our cause.” The broad shouldered reptile spoke in a surprisingly deep voice, “My kin are willing to fight for those willing to pay, the Tau have proven reliable clients. The desert wastes of this planet are similar to those on Tarellia, it almost feels like home.” Harax spoke next, “Xarak, my subordinate here has an opportunity that I think you may relish.” Tach’var took his chance, “I am needed to help defend a certain item on one of the moons of a planet called Crion. We also have needs to mount an offensive, we mean to assault the Imperials.” The word brought an unholy anger into the Tarellian’s face, “Damned those blasted creatures! What they did to my people will be repaid in bones and ashes!” “Name your price.” “To the Frozen Planes with prices, my kin will gladly kill the Imperials for free. Promise me Imperial skulls and I will fight free of charge.” “Fight with me, and I guarantee your kin will have their bones and ashes.” This put a wicked grin on Xarak’s face, his serpentine tongue flicked across his lips and his nostrils flared, “Let us not waste time, I will bring three Warbands to the war effort.” Harax stood, “I will match and allot you three Cadres. Good hunting Shas’El, may your battles bring glory.” The Tau saluted each other then parted ways, Xarak left to meet with his kin.

=====Tarellian Encampment, Prin’Shek=====


Xarak was sharpening his swords when three of his Chieftains walked in. Among these three were Yelnava Narseen, Demerdul Caledoras, Tarja Tisareth. “Please, sit” They obeyed and took their places on some mats that had been placed in the Command tent. “I have grand news, you’ve been chosen to follow me on a task. Our Tau friends have offered me a mission, I accepted and have chosen you three and your warbands to accompany me.” Demerdul was the first to speak, “How much are they offering us? It better be good pay.” Xarak looked at the brutish lizard, “We are completing this mission free of charge,” The chieftains began yelling angrily demanding the reason for such treacherous behavior. Xarak snapped his jaws at the three quelling their complaints, “They offer us a payment for grander than goods, or money. They offer us a chance to avenge our Ancestors and the tainted plains on Tarellia. They are offering us to spearhead an assault on the Imperium of Mankind!” At hearing this, the others began showing a different kind of anger. Tarja spoke, “Xarak, we will fight with you, and we will claim revenge.” Xarak’s face claimed a pose of resolve,”Bones and Ashes my brothers and sisters. We move out immidiately.”

A Day Or Two Later

=====Yankor, Luna Epsilon=====

Numek stood at the treeline of the clearing where the Tau forces were coming in. He looked up and watched as dozens of Orca’s and Mantas rhythmically dropped into the clearing, unloaded their troops, vehicles, and equipment. Tach’var was among the first to touchdown, his gallant stride unmistakeable. As Tach’var made his way over Numek couldn’t help but notice the bronze and dust clad aliens deploying with the Tau. Tach’var greeted Numek, “Greetings Numek, I’ve come with reinforcements.” Numek kept his skeptic gaze fixed a particularly bulky reptile walking towards the two, “What exactly have you brought?” “I’ve brought 3 Cadres ready to fight,” He turned around to look at Xarak and wave him over, “I’ve also garnered the support of some Tarellians Harax hired out.” Xarak made his way to the Tau commander, he was talking to someone, but he couldn’t tell who or what. As he got closer he could tell that this figure was quite larger than the Tau, it was a Necron. Xarak stopped in his tracks and stared at the being, he was told they were made of metal and wielded emerald fire, this one seemed to be made of bone and gold. Numek returned the lizards stare, “I am Cryptek Numek, I am leading the forces on this planet, I was unaware that Tarellians would make an appearance.” Xarak began to speak, making a point of not showing his curiosity, “I see, I am Grand Chieftain Rasz’k Xarak, I have brought a trio of my most experienced Warbands to help cull the Imperial vermin that lie here.” “You will fit in very well around here, come both of you, I have already developed a plan.” Numek, Tach’var, and Xarak stood around a table with a holographic map of Yankor on it. Numek explained to Xarak what exactly they were doing here and how they fit in with the scheme of things. He outlined an area where the Tau would set up their base and an area where the Tarellians could make camp. After that he explained the Hive Cogger situation and his plans for assaulting it. Xarak spoke up, “The Tarellians will set out immediately for the assault.” “How many do you plan on sending?” “All of us.” “Then I recommend waiting a few hours so you can approach at night, that will give you an advantage.” “Thank you Boneman, I will brief my people now.”

=====Outside Hive Cogger, Luna Epsilon=====

Xarak and his Chieftains formed a group at the front of the War Party, they halted movement. From their position they could see what appeared to be some light vehicles, walkers, and biker squads. Xarak looked to Yelnava, “I want you and your warband to hold back in the treeline, there will surely be more to come, when you hear the signal, strike.” He looked back to the small bunker where the humans lay like sheep and the depot where the vehicles were. There were no more than ten in the bunker and 30 at the depot, this would do as a sacrifice, he once again looked back, but this time to Demerdul and Tarja, “Brothers, when I give the signal, you may attack.” Demerdul looked almost happy about the impending death of the humans. Xarak stood and looked to his flanks, he began a very deep breath before bringing a frightening roar to bear, he was then joined by hundreds of his comrades as they charged forward. Xarak removed his swords from their sheaths as he ran towards the bunker, the humans inside were scrambling for weapons, a bright beam of light came from one of the windows and hit Xarak’s breastplate, he laughed as his armor hardened at the exposure to heat. The other Tarellians made quick work of the walkers and tanks with their scorch weaponry while the others dispatched the bikers fairly quickly. When Xarak barged into the bunker he began shouting in Tarellian, “By the Great Deserts!” He took off a Guardsmen’s head and cut another in half, “You will all burn!” Demerdul ran full speed at another human and smashed him into a wall, crushing his chest. The Guardsmen were dead, and by the looks of it this was either a communications or command element. Xarak put his weapons away and walked out of the bunker and began giving orders. “Began shoring up the area with whatever you can find! We will be ready for the Imperium when they come! And Come they will brothers, you will have your blessed revenge at long last!” Crates, debris, and everything else was used to make defenses, but there was only enough to make a hasty defense, their next battle would be a rough one.

Spoiler:
So the Necrons are mostly gone, the Tau and friends party bus has arrived. Smudge, I sent your guys a message. Made a breach in the Imperial lines that I was able to fortify somewhat.

It was a good day.



Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/06/29 18:51:24


Post by: Ezra Tyrius


Hive Cogger slept uneasily that night.

Around the Hive, campfires and lumen strips twinkled softly in the dark night, as the Imperial positions kept a firm eye on the battered Hive and its occupants. The dead from the cultists' failed attempts at breaking the siege still lay where they had fallen, their blood glistening lightly in the pale moonlight.

Kusun stood on a half-broken terrace overlooking the city. He had temporarily taken residence in the Governor’s mansion, along with his subordinates and the Apostle. The latter was currently trying to contact the Omnia Cadunt to relay his orders, although his attempts were hindered by some unknown issue with the vox network.

Kusun heard the old wooden door behind him creak open, followed by sluggish murmuring. His eyes drifted towards the door. The door was opened softly, revealing the haggard form of one of the sentries. The cultist, a man of around forty Terran years, looked as if he had not slept for days, dust and grime having settled in his greyish beard and filthy hair. The man’s eyes sluggishly focussed on Kusun, opening wide once the man fully realized who he had just run in to. Without a word, the man hastily turned around and went back through the door, slamming it shut behind him.

Once, Kusun might have considered that to be funny. Hilarious, even.

Now, it merely filled him with disgust.

He had never enjoyed fighting alongside mortal forces, and this rabble was certainly not warming him up to the idea. They were weak, pathetic. Most of them had nothing more to bring to a battlefield other than their fanatic conviction, and even that evaporated more often than not once battle was truly joined.

They were pests. Rodents.

Expendable.


And he knew that the ones who were leading this little uprising thought so as well.

He gazed across the city again. I should have flattened this miserable rock from orbit when I had the chance, he thought, as his fingers idly trailed the skulls hanging from his belt.

Hive Cogger was a mess. And now, it was becoming a rotten, decaying, disease-ridden mess, thanks to their new… ‘allies’.

He would have to keep a close eye on the Nurglites. Their methods, while despicable, would be more than effective in the cramped corridors of the Hive should the Imperials manage to breach the outer walls. Someone had to keep them in check, however, for the followers of Nurgle had a tendency of extending their ‘gifts’ as eagerly to their enemies as to their own allies...

He sighed, and looked up to the cloud-filled sky. That flicker in the Warp was, for the moment, the only lead on his quarry he had. It would be best to stay on the Nurgle sorcerer’s good side – for now.

I see you.


Startled, Kusun turned around, only to find no-one behind him. His eyes moved slowly across the terrace, looking for the source of the sound.

I can see them, too.

Again, the voice came from behind him, but again, there was nothing there. Kusun gritted his teeth, his hand reaching for his axe as he spun around like a cornered jackal, looking for the intruder.

He sees you, Kusun Zhaqar.


A shiver went down Kusun’s spine, and he looked upon the moon that now shone brightly against the night sky.

And the moon waxes.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/06/30 21:43:01


Post by: Irishpeacockz


Rain pinged off the hull of Garathal's thunderhawk which would have rusted and corroded the paint and outer surface of the craft, if it wasn't already rusted. The rusted hull of the aircraft entered the mists of the swamp where visibility was limited to a few feet in front of ones self and they now relied on their sensors and scanners for safe passage. Kremus’ voice started talking in Garathal's ear much to his irritation “My lord we have done as you commanded, steps have been built and the construction of your cathedral is well under way, we ha-” “Silence fool, let me land and I will witness your efforts myself” despite the harsh weather conditions the pilot managed to land the aircraft perfectly and offload his passengers. Garathal disembarked from the thunderhawk to the courtyard with was bustling with cultists heaving stone or rotted wood that had taken up residence when this bastion was abandoned, Drelos and Kalnar were hoisting stone up the hill, they seemed to be enjoying the exercise. The hole in the northern wall was patched up and some of the crumbling towers along the wall have been knocked down and were being rebuilt, the rotten wooden gate was torn out and replaced with a new door which was much thicker and was reinforced with steel and when closed the face of a smiling demon was formed. Upon a raised platform sat his Cathedral which featured many symbols of the Lord of Pestilence and his demons carved into the stone and was the central structure, the foundations for the other buildings that would surround the keep have been laid but no work had been done to them, yet. Kremus dragged his leg up the steps which led to the Cathedral where his lord stood, admiring the structure “My Lord, what do you think ? Have we pleased your worship ?” Garathal ran his hand along the stone “It is too clean, Nurgle’s slimes must oozed from this place, who is responsible for this construction ?” “One of the cultists my Lord, he claimed he was a stonemason before joining our cause” Garathal nodded “Bring him before at once” bowing Kremus went to search for the stonemason. Garathal watched as a bald burly man slowly stepped up to the Prophet with a face of terror, his arms were hairy along with his chest, he sported a thick beard and his hairless forehead was saturated with sweat, his deep green eyes looked straight to the floor as he stood there waiting to be spoken to, at least this one knows his place remarked Garathal before continuing. “So you are the stonemason ?” “Yes milord” and you are responsible for all the stonework that this place has undergone ?” “Yes milord” “The carvings, the repairs, the Cathedral all of it ?” The man gambled a look up to his lord and nodded “Yes milord” Garathal touched the stone again staying silent for a moment, “You do good work stonemason” the man left out a sigh of relief and smiled “Thank you milord” “Father Nurgle is pleased with your efforts and has decided that your work shall be rewarded” before the man could react Garathal clutched his skull and began whispering, softly at first but then he began to raise his voice and tighten his grip, the man’s skin began to bubble and rot, boils and pus began to sprout from all over his body, the hair on his arms and chest fell out and the colour in his eyes diluted to a milky white, in replace of the sweat on his forehead now sat the symbol of Nurgle burned into his flesh which was still sizzling and then Garathal let go letting the man fall to his knees. The surrounding cultists stopped working and watched in awe as their comrade was transformed, taking a moment to recover Garathal spoke up “Nurgle has bestowed his gift upon you for your fine service which you will now continue to do under the name of the Architect, your task is to make this bastion formidable enough to stand against our enemies for a prolonged period of time,if you need any material,go bother Kremus” the Architect scrambled to his feet “Yes milord, you have my thanks” Garathal nodded and turned to the crowd that had gathered for the transformation “Get back to work you curs”

Kremus limped over to the tree where the woodcutter’s axe was embedded deep into the ancient bark smearing its razor sharp edge in thick sap, grabbing it he made his way to the North Eastern tower on the wall. The tower itself was in the middle of being torn down in order to be rebuilt and a small crew had been dispatched to tear it down, his crew. As Kremus reached the top of the stairs which led out onto the wall he saw him, laughing and joking with the others who donned faked smiles and smashed another block out of the wall of the tower. Upon seeing Kremus approach he dropped his smile and all went quiet, turning the man looked in Kremus’ direction “Kremus did you get more w-” Kremus slammed his fist against the man’s jaw send both him and some teeth flying. Kremus turned to his crew “Pick him up” scooped up by his coworkers the man was helpless against the assault that Kremus laid down on him, punches landed left and right particularly to the midsection until he heard a few cracked, the ribs. He slumped back down again spitting out blood in an attempt to beg for his worthless life, Kremus kicked him in the mouth dislodging any teeth he had left “Pick him back up” lifting up the drooling cultists Kremus grabbed his axe and began to make small incisions all over his body before finally driving the axe through his knee which cut through flesh and bone which dropped the cultist to the floor “Hold out his other knee” spat Kremus as he raised the axe over his head, through the combined might of Kremus’ strength and gravity the axe made a satisfactory chunk into the rockcrete on the floor of the tower, a clean cut. “Right chuck his body and his legs over the wall and into the river, I am sure the crocodiles are hungry for flesh and this donkey-caves blood will draw them from all over” he turned to leave as his men went to work but stopped at the doorway “And clean up the blood, better if no questions were asked about this” satisfied Kremus went about his business, he has had his revenge and his name will be feared.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
Brother Anlock had one last look over the map that the Brotherhood of the Red Banner had provided him of the various alleyways and narrow streets of Hive Cogger that would prove vital to his task, rolling up the map Anlock left his makeshift tent out from which stood three strikeforces blight, rot and pestilence. Strikeforce blight consisted of his own plague marines, Nurgle's own creation and the strikeforce he had the most confidence in. Strikeforce Rot consisted of cultists which were mainly beastmen but some humans survived Dorn’s Shield, this was the strikeforce he had the least amount of confidence in. Finally Strikeforce Pestilence consisted solely of Pestigors and he was fairly confident that they would be effective. “Right you have your orders, get to it and make the Imperium bleed hehe” Anlock chuckled at that last part and formed up at the head of his own marines and marched. The Strikeforces disappeared through the narrow streets and alleyways to their targets clearing the once crowded courtyard in seconds.

Prisoner 4239 clutched his lasgun and pointed it at the shadows, the cultists have pulled back farther than they thought, 4239 turned to 4301 and whispered not to attract attention from the Arbitrator “Think we finally broke them ?” 4301 nodded his head “From what our failed push ? Ya we definitely shook them keep your eyes on the bloody road” 4276 chipped in “They will never be as shook as you were when you saw those bonemen charge at ya” a few of the lads chanced a grin. 4301 turned around with a mad gleam in his eye “Say it to my face you bastard” 4239 grabbed his friend by the shoulder “Turn around or you’ll be seen” before he could get a response he heard a shout from behind which sent shivers down his spine, it was Arbitrator Carron “Shut up you pieces of gak and keep your eyes open, this is too quiet and I don’t li-” a series of violent explosions cut the man off as the crumbling buildings that once laid dormant along the roadside was now cutting off their escape and separated them from their tanks and heavy armor leaving the infantry fend for themselves. Following the deafening explosions the only thing that could be heard was the panting of the prisoners followed by Arbitrator Carron’s orders “Form a circle, form a bloody circle” the man pulled out his sword and looked around to see no one move, pushing the closer prisoner to him into a circle he shouted again “Form a fething circle you scum” the prisoners did as they were told and they waited and waited, nothing happened, no ambush no nothing, they began to disperse when they heard laughter all around them. 4239 heard lasfire from a nearby alleyway, another ambush ?From the battered buildings to either side of them emerged Nurgle’s finest, his plague marines, Anlock leaned out of a window and and sprayed Nurgle’s rot down on the helpless prisoners who fired blindly up into the air in the general direction of the vile raining liquid. 4239 watched as 4276 was drowned in the gut retching substance. Plague marines rushed out amidst the chaos, wielding their rusted blades and proceeded to slice off limbs yet leaving the men themselves alive, rolling in agony on the floor. 4239 fired five shots at an approaching marine before a rusted blade pierced him through the back. Arbitrator Corron fired his laspistol into the chest of a marine that lunged at her which dropped the marine to one knee, laughing the marine rose again, ignoring any pain and proceeded to decapitate the man. Rockcrete showered marine and prisoner alike as imperial armor ploughed through the collapsed building creating an exit point for the penal legion and an entry point for the tanks, seeing this Anlock called the retreat “Fall back, I said Fall back” retreating as quickly as they came, the crews of the tanks began to climb out of their armor to evacuate the wounded and unknowingly bring the plagues of Nurgle into the heart of their encampment.

Back at his tent Anlock looked over the reports, the Pestigors managed to leave some of them alive, they had killed more than he would have liked but it was acceptable. The cultists on the other hand killed every last one of them, no survivors and they lingered too long taking losses from the tanks that broke through their trap, unacceptable, and an example must be made. Leaving his tent he approached the cultist who had the command and without saying a word grabbed him by the skull, gouging his eyes out in the process and twisted, snapping his neck. The other cultists took a step back in shock and to avoid the pool of blood that was spilling out over the floor and grew bigger when Anlock ripped the dead man's skull off his shoulders, this will do nicely, needed a new blight grenade Anlock said to himself as he looked up to the surrounding cultists “This is the price for insubordination, do not disappoint me again” clipping the head to his belt, Anlock retired to his tent, he had more battles to plan.
Spoiler:
I decided to not include the third thing that i wanted to write about, this is 2000 words as it is and i dont think the third part would fit here, so I will write that next. Enjoy


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/06/30 21:57:21


Post by: Gore Grandpa


+++Gorekings Warbarge+++
The Goreking Ganzer, sat upon his throne of skulls, his way of keeping his kill tally. He was washing his great axe with blood when the doors to his throne room opened. He had a fleeting moment where he considered bathing his axe in fresh blood, but his curiosity had gotten the better of him, for now. Ganzer stood and his voice boomed through the room, “State your business fool.” This caught the serf by surprise who stumbled and dropped the dataslate he was holding, he quickly scrambled and picked it up, the object almost fumbling out of his hands a second time,
“M-my apologies K-king, I bringeth g-great news.”
“And what beith such great news that you interrupt my sanctification?”
“I-I have found n-new grounds ripe for the c-culling, oh great King.”
”Speak vermin, my axe grows hungry.”
“There is a s-system called Crion, i-it is in a state of m-much strife, many C-Chaos forces are already p-present.”
Ganzer contemplated this for a while. If this was true, he could obtain much favor from Lord Khorne… and create a larger throne. He would not fall for a trap so easily, if it were one. No, he would have someone else fall. Ganzer sat down, “Bringeth me the Goreprince Ziinek, now.”
“Y-yes oh great King.” The servant tried to get to his fleet but slipped in a pile of blood. He hit the floor and spared a glance towards the King, a mistake. The King grabbed his great axe and dismounted from his throne.
“Your insolence and incompetence is worthy neither of this chamber nor Lord Khorne!” With a single swoop from his blade the cultist fell in two. He tossed the upper half, still writhing in agony, towards his throne. He walked to the still half open door and leaned out, his Gore Storm honor guard standing their crimson vigil, “Fetch me Goreprince Ziinek, I haveth need of him.” “Your will be done, King.” Ganzer nodded before walking back to his throne.

Goreprince Ziinek made his way down the great halls of the warbarge. All six of his axes clanging against his battle beaten power armor. He was close to the King’s hall, his Gore Storm guard stood outside. As he approached one of the Terminator clad men took a step forward, “Goreprince Ziinek?” “The one and bloodied.” “The King expects, you may enter.’ Without so much of a word he pushed the large brass doors open, it was a dimly lit hall that led to a pile of skulls, a throne sat upon it. As he walked closer he could see that the king was flaying a skull, the owner lying in front of the pile.
“I haveth need of you Goreprince. A path of glory you may tread, should you accepteth my task.”
“Of course my King, what would you haveth me do?”
“I have received word of a possible system in need of culling. I want you to taketh your men and see if it is worthy of my presence.” “Your will is my path, oh great King.”
Ganzer shoved the now clean skull into the pile beneath his throne, “Now go, prepareth your men and I shall send the information to your Navigator.” Ziinek left the hall for his ship, he would prep his men for their glorious assignment, he was chosen for a reason, he had the artillery needed to bless the land with raining gore. A grim smile crept along his face as he began running to his ship. They would leave for this Crion as soon as possible, the culling would not wait long.
+++Warp-space, Ziinek’s Warbarge+++
Ziinek and his advisors sat around a holo-map of the planet and it’s moons. According to the intelligence received the primary fighting was in two central locations, one surrounding a Hive city and the other near a Space Elevator. Ziinek pondered his moves, as enticing as the hive seemed, there was far too much, and they were but a battalion. They would land near, and let whoever dare come to them, but first, a sacrifice must be made. “There, were the two rivers meet north of the great mountain, there is a city there.” “What about it my prince?” “That is where our sacrifice will be made. When we reach orbit I want our first and second companies to start digging out a fortified position. Have the two artillery companies land a few miles north of the city, tell them to prepare and await my command.” “As you wish my Lord.”
+++The Black Sands, Luna Epsilon+++
“My lord, progress goes well with our position, make your sacrifice be great.” Ziinek turned off his communicae and joined his Disciples at the front of the formation, now that they had no problems to worry about, their sacrifice may begin. To either side of the prince were 3 Chimerae, 6 Medusae, and 3 Basilisks, They began their warpath to the city of Federov, Ziinek chuckled at the thought of the Imperials screaming and pleading for life, they would die as they lived, like pigs. He couldn’t wait to feel the shock wave of the munitions and the rain of gore that would follow. “Everyone, double-time it, you don’t dare keep Lord Khorne waiting do you? Forward!” It was but half an hour before the city was in sight, the interim of impending slaughter was titillating, but he must be patient if he is to fully cull the herd. “I want the Chimerae to encircle and block of all exits that are not the main gate. Artillery set your targets and when I give the signal, level the city.” He and his disciples walked towards the main gate of the city, then stopped about 100 yards out. He raised his hand and as he did he could already feel Khorne’s blessing upon him, filling him with an inhuman rage and strength. “For Lord Khorne!” His hand fell and the shelling commenced. His disciples stood in front of the gate and killed any and all who left it, Ziinek grabbed 2 of his axes and charged into the city. It was a writhing hellscape, mangles limbs and gore stained the walls, the smell of explosives wafted through the air and the still living littered the streets. He charged through with a zealous mission, he butched everything and anything that moved, men, women, children, animals, all left alive were being mercilessly culled. A shot from a basilisk landed close to him catapulting him through the air, he took this opportunity to throw his axes at more living targets as he flew. When he landed he retraced his steps sheathing his axes but always brandishing two. After he could see no more living and as his rage began to subside he made his way to the front gate. The shockwaves still reverberating through his armor, it felt glorious, the screams still in his ears. He walked past his disciples they fell in line behind him and as he walked by one of the tank commanders they shouted over the sound of guns, “Should we stop my Lord?”
“Is the city level yet?”
“Not quite my lord, bu-”
“Then level it.”


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/07/03 06:19:20


Post by: 2BlackJack1


Crion. Luna Maximus. Luna Epsilon. Without them, countless lives would be cut short. With them, the Imperium can thrive, able to feed billions of people and fund their endless war machine. These places had once hosted a chapter of astartes, holy angels of the Emperor himself. They were the Blood Dragons, fierce warriors and protectors of His domain, but they are long since gone, leaving Crion and her sister moons as prey to the enemies of the Imperium. Without them, ork armies festered, chaos has spread its taint, cutting Crion off from the rest of the Imperium, threatening to doom entire sectors to starve. In response, humanity has launched its own crusade, aiming to uproot every last traitor, heretic, and xeno that stands against them. To liberate Crion, that is their goal. To fail would cause damage that even an astartes would struggle to grasp.

While the tides of war began to roll, one threat has risen above all others. The tsunami called itself the Dreadmob, a band of orks that brought with it a weapon that could end the crusade before it could ever begin. A gargant, the epitome of ork warfare, a towering structure that only existed to destroy and kill. As urgent as the gargant was, the Dreadmob made matters even more urgent when they set their eyes for the Space Elevator of Luna Maximus. With access to the elecator, the mob could go unchallenged to the very surface of Crion, pillaging and burning their way throughout the planet until it was all a burning husk, a mere shadow of its former self. The crusaders promised to never let that day come.



"Sniper team one. Confirmed target. Team two?"

++Sniper Team two. Locked in sight.++

"Copy that. Firing in three."

Two rounds were fired in unison. Less than a moment later, their target's head was blown clean off. The ork nob never realized it had been attacked.

"Confirmed kill. Pack it up and move on to the next location." One of the snipers said, and removed the goggles from his face as he stood up. "That's the fourth nob we've killed so far. How many more to go, Riley?"

A second scion turned to the first, "Tonight? Five more. Then we have another twelve tomorrow, and we'll see from there. With this many orks down, there's going to be quite the power struggle. And that is exactly what we need. Any other questions?"

The sniper shook his head, "No sir". Riley nodded, and the pair began their way towards their pickup destination. The scions' headhunting had been going on without a hitch. Riley knew it was a simple, yet very effective plan to kill off the ork leaders, sending them all into a chaotic mess of infighting when the greenies all began killing each other to prove who would be next in line. The scion quietly snorted, if there was anything he appreciated almost as much as killing the enemies of the Emperor, it was watching His enemies kill each other.

The pair went on walking in silence, ready for any sudden threats that could appear. The woodlands they went through was empty, and the only other signs of life were echoes of gunfire from the ork camp; proof that the scions' plan was already taking effect. Riley checked his chronometer. 18:92. Good. We're on time. A quiet beeping noise stopped the scions in their tracks; a warning signal for unit in danger, possibly killed. They knew better than to try and send a vox to the endangered unit, in case they were already killed and it only alerted the enemy to more scions nearby. Instead, the pair stalked towards their Imperial comrades, rifles drawn. The pair made good time, crossing the woods with a deadly efficiency few other men could match.

Riley dropped to a crouch, knowing his partner would mimic his actions without a word. Ahead of them stood three outlandishly clothed orks, and two bloodied scions beneath them. "Left," Riley growled, and fired his hellgun into the furthest left ork. The scion next to him killed the furthest right ork at the same time, and the third and final ork barely managed to whirl around before both scions fired into it at once, sending it spasming on the ground. Riley cautiously stepped forwards, ready to fire another shot into the slain kommandoz. A groan from one of the fallen scions made Riley holster his hellgun and attend to the wounded. One of the scions, the sniper of Unit 2, had a gash across his head, and other than being disoriented was unharmed.

"He's unconscious, took an axe to the back. Weaker swing, so the armor shoulda saved 'im" the sniper said, hawking up a glob of spit. Riley nodded, and helped the sniper to his feet. The pair looked at the fallen kommandoz, and Riley was surprised to see that one appeared familiar. "Is that..?"

"Mark off another target. Kommando Zoggorat is a confirmed kill." Riley said and pulled out an Iho-stick. "Now, someone tell the pilot we've solved this mess and our en route again."



Grulkin sidestepped yet another ork's axe and flicked his wrist upwards, sending a knife into its throat. Grulkin yanked the chain to the side, and the right half of the ork's throat was torn open as the knife followed. A step forwards and bite to the other half made sure the ork would die. The kroot shoved the dying brute backwards, and gave a chittering laugh as it tripped on one of its fallen kin.

"Grulkin, right!" Grulkin ducked by reflex, and Ta'lok's warning saved the kroot's life when a spear sailed over his head. The giant hissed and slashed out, sending the blade whistling outwards. A grunt of pain made Grulkin smile to himself and he pulled the chain back, ripping the knife free from the ork. The kroot glared at the ork, which returned the gaze with its beady red eyes.

"Waaaaagh!" the ancient war cry of the ork met silence as Grulkin leapt forwards. The ork raised a spear to block Grulkin's first strike, but it never landed; it was never meant to. However, the second strike sent the knife deep into the ork's skull, and the beast looked dumbstruck as to why blood was pouring into its face. Grulkin used its confusion to his own advantage, and got close enough to rip the ork's jugular with his beak. The kroot ripped his knife free and laughed; today was a day far better than any of those spent hiding by Paynne's mansion.


Meenos threw two knives into an oncoming mek, yet the creature came on. The mercenary reached for his last blade, a bone kukri, having spent the last of his knives. "A new kind a beakie! I likes it!" The mek laughed, and fired off several inaccurate rounds from his mek-gun. Meenos leapt forwards and swung the kukri into the mek's arm. A roar of pain and anger came, but the mek swung his gun towards Meenos. "Let's see how you like me dakka!" It roared, and Meenos barely rolled out of the way before bullets took his place in front of the mek. The kroot swutch the blade to his left hand and drew his laspistol before firing several lasrounds into the ork's chest. It slobbered out an insult to Meenos and fired off more rounds at the kroot, but Meenos rolled to the side once more to avoid the deadly hail of bullets.

Meenos lashed out with the kukri, and felt it connect with the ork's leg. "Oi! Dats me gud leg, ya turd!" As the mek roared it tried using its gun as a club, but Meenos was to quick for the bulky weapon. As the mek lifted his gun from the mud, Meenos raised his laspistol and sent several lasrounds into the ork's head. It staggered backwards, and finally collapsed as its body realized that it had died.


Ta'lok looked down from his perch, watching his kindred feed on the remains of the orks. The sound of flesh ripping off of the bone filled the woodlands, and gave the Shaper a sense of satisfaction. "Another successful hunt, another be'gel party killed," The Shaper whispered, "now, perhaps the humans will be more willing to talk business".


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/07/06 00:11:31


Post by: 2BlackJack1


+++Luna Maximus, Khan+++

The bolters' roar drowned out all else. The orks' shouts, the marines' battle cries, even the screams of jets flying overhead. Ulfric Stormclaw let loose a howl of laughter as he sent another ork falling backwards, headless and broken. "And I thought these greenskins were a threat!" He roared, basking in the gore soaked battlefield. The Wolf Lord's gloating was interrupted with a dakkajet crashing into the ork horde in front of him, sending dozens of orks to their graves. Ulfric looked past the smoke and wreckage, seeing trukks and koptaz, among other orkish constructs. Ulfric grinned as he saw one ork larger than any other in the horde. That was the general of this horde. That was the ork that would end the battle. And it was Ulfric's to kill.


Faolan ripped his blade out of the ork's gut, and sent a kick into its screaming maw to finish it off. The Hound barely had time to parry the next ork's axe before it came swinging into his skull. Faolan's next blow made sure the ork never got a second swing, and the marine stepped backwards to avoid the orkish intestines that spilt onto the earth before him. Cearul stepped into Faolan's view, cleaving through an ork's side with his axe, and sent the greenskin to the ground with a swipe from his shield. "The Wolves are holding strong. With our support, the orks will not last another hour."

Cearul nodded, looking out towards the distant battlefield of Wolves and orks. Unlike the Valka Fenryka, the Hounds would be a knife, carving the sides of the horde while the Wolves stood strong against them, forming an anvil that broke the alien tides. Occasionally, a bright flash of a dying vehicle would appear, marking the deaths of orks, guardsmen, and space marines. Yet there was no time for grieving, there was a war to win. Faolan moved past Cearul, and signalled for the rest of his honor guard to follow.

It had been a long walk, but Faolan knew that if they caught the attention of the ork horde as a whole, they would ultimately be cut down, no matter how many of the orks they took with them. It was a fate the Hound did not want to see. Their own target was not to stave off the assault, but to kill one ork, and one ork in particular. A weirdboy by the name of Zogdog, who was able to keep in constant contact with the gargant, a boon that has no doubt helped lead the orks ever closer to the Space Elevator. Fortunately for the Imperium, this ork also did not travel close to the heart of the horde due to a general distrust of its abilities, and also the very real threat of it causing dozens of orks' heads to explode: a common cause of death for greenskins associated with any weirdboy. An unusual precaution among the aliens, but the Dreadmob was hardly a warband to make assumptions of. Their options were to react to its actions, or die. The orks gave no other choice.

Faolan looked down at the horde below from the peak they had found, and took several picts of Zogdog's battlewagon from his helmet. If it continued on its path, it would pass right underneath them, allowing the Hounds the chance to intercept the ork. But for now, the only thing they could do was wait.


+ + Forty-six minutes later ++

Ulfric howled as he surged forwards, trusting his brothers to deal with the nobz he left behind. His eyes were set on the boss, and no other ork would stop him. Only moments ago, the boss had crashed his kustom vehicle against the Wolf lines, sacrificing it to kill several marines. Ulfric vowed to not let it claim any others. The warboss towered over Ulfric, but it hardly caused any concern for the Wolf. Stormclaw was a hunter with countless years of experience, a slayer of kraken, drakes, and the enemies of the Emperor's domain. A single ork, no matter how large, did not worry Ulfric. From the looks of it, the boss had also been close to some of the Gorgons' fliers after they crashed, as Ulfric saw several of the pilots' heads lining the ork's belt. For that, the boss would pay.

Stormclaw struck first, stabbing one set of claws into the ork's side, and rolling backwards to avoid its retaliation. "Dat one stingz a little, ya beakie," the ork rumbled as it lumbered after Ulfric, swinging its axe in wide arcs. "No one will forget da great Bloggob. An' no beakie gunna krump 'im neither" the ork roared. As it spoke it sent its axe crashing down at Ulfric. The Wolf stepped forwards, away from the blade of the great-axe, and stabbed his claws into Bloggob's gut. The boss howled in pain and anger, and knocked Ulfric aside with a swipe from its hand. Bloggob stepped forwards and stepped onto one of Ulfric's arms, pinning it to the ground. The armor whined in protest, testament to the ork's strength. Bloggob laughed and pointed his axe at Ulfric's head. "You fink you can fight? Ha, youz a good laugh, beakie." Before the ork could use his axe, Ulfric sent his other claw into the ork's ankle, repeating the action with inhuman speed until the beast's foot was nothing but bone and gore. Bloggob stumbled backwards, snarling and slobbering insults at the Wolf. Stormclaw was up on his feet in an instant, driving claws wherever orkoid flesh was exposed, forcing the ork backwards at the sudden ferocity.

"No xenos shall harm the Sons of Russ," Ulfric roared, and stabbed into Bloggob's gullet, forcing the blades up into the boss' head. The ork gave glared at Ulfric, but found that it could no longer move either arm. The next, and last, thought the ork had was why the ground was rushing towards him. Ulfric shook the blood from his claws, and turned back to his Wolf Guard. They were finishing off the last of Bloggob's nobz, butchering them with a ferocity much like his own. Ulfric nodded as Bjorn crushed the last nob's skull with a sweep from his axe.

"The battle here is over. The rest of the orks will flee now that they are headless. Such is the way of the greenskin menace." Ulfric said, knowing news of the boss' death would spread like wildfire. The Wolf stooped down and grabbed the slain ork's axe, carrying it in both hands. "Now this, this will go to the halls of Fenris. A small trophy to mark the victory we have had here."



Faolan was the first to make the jump, landing on top of the battlewagon with a groan of protest from the metal underneath him. His brothers landed behind him, and the group set to work with carving through the top of the vehicle to reach its cargo. The Fangbearer carved through the weakened metal with ease, and one by one the marines jumped into the compartment below. Faolan's eyes immediately adjusted to the darkness of its interior, and grinned when he saw a pair of startled looking orks, both of them reaching for their weapons. Faolan stepped forwards, decapitating one and pinning the other against the wall with his blade. A punch to the ork's throat crushed its windpipe, and the Hound only removed his blade once he was sure the ork was dead. From the sounds behind him, Faolan knew that these weren't the only two orks in this room, but that none still lived. The Hounds fell in line behind Faolan as he approached the door to the next room, but it exploded in a wave of green light before he could reach it. Every Hound staggered back from the force of the energy, and Faolan snarled when he saw the source of the attack. An unusually skinny ork carrying an ornamental staff in one hand and a pistol in the other.

Zogdog

"Some beakies on our ride? Well, weez will take care of 'em. Oh, yes we will." The weirdboy whispered, its voice shrill and unlike any other ork's voice Faolan had heard. Before the Hounds could make a step towards Zogdog, the ork aimed his staff at them and sent them all stumbling backwards with another blast of green light. "An' we thought you beakies were good fightaz. Weez ain't seein' it."

Cabhan was the first to charge, aiming to skewer the ork in his claws. Zogdog only laughed, and batted the marine away with a swipe from his staff. Faolan roared at the sight of his brother getting tossed aside and charged forwards, wanting nothing more than to end the weirdboy's life. Zogdog aimed his pistol at Faolan's chest, and fired three rounds into his armor before the marine bowled into Zogdog. Pain flared through Faolan as he felt one of the bullets pierce his armor, but fought on regardless. Faolan swung the Fangbearer into Zogdog's side, but the blade bounced away from the ork's skin with a flare of light.

"Won't be dat simple, ya git!" Zogdog shrieked, and stabbed its staff at Faolan. Before any marine could act, green energy swirled around Faolan, and it took every ounce of the Hound's willpower to not shout out in pain. Faolan faintly acknowledged that he had fallen to one knee, with the Fangbearer hanging limply at his side. The Hound shakily took a breath when the energies disappeared, and could barely cling to consciousness.

Faolan saw Cearul rush forwards to meet the ork, and the pair began a deadly dance of axe against staff. The Hound was too far gone to notice the stormboyz who had landed on the wagon, and had already begun fighting the rest of his honor guard. Cearul gave a booming shout as lashed out at Zogdog in a flurry of blows, but every killing blow was warded away by the alien's powers. Yet Cearul knew that it was draining the ork. Every flash was dimmer than the last, each swing Zogdog gave back was weaker than the last. It had overextended itself, and Cearul was going to make it regret that. The Hound feigned an attack at Zogdog's throat, but pulled back the blow and went for the ork's arm instead. To his vague surprise, the axe cut through, sending the ork's forearm and staff to the ground. Zogdog gave a hoarse shout of pain, and raised its pistol. Cearul stepped to the side and slammed his shield against the ork, sending it reeling backwards. As it hit the wall the pistol barked once in its hands, harmlessly sending a round past Cearul's shoulder. By then Cearul was upon him, sending three blows into the ork's side, and one quick swipe with his shield sent the ork to the ground. Blood poured out of the ork's mouth and nostrils, and a groan escaped its lips.

"Didn't miss, beakie," Zogdog laughed, and nodded to something behind Cearul. Cold dread filled Cearul, and a roar of anger came from his throat when he turned to see a bloody Faolan slumped against the wall, with the side of his helmet shorn off from the bullet.. Cearul turned back to Zogdog, and saw the ork had reclaimed its staff from its severed arm. A wheezing laugh came from the ork, and it looked Cearul in the eye. "Ta-ta, beakies".

The battlewagon rumbled, and was sent rolling from the force of its engine exploded; a final gift from Zogdog. It didn't take long for the flames to spread throughout the entire wagon, and the crackle of ammunition exploding only sped its progress.


"Oh zog me, da whole fing is gone!"

"Da meks will use dis. Dey gotz ta, or dey ain't gonna be meks fer very long."

"Hey! Boss! I found me a beaky! No wait, two of 'em. Musta got krumped by da exploshun. Dey ain't movin', but dey might be breathin'. Dey still got dere stabbaz an' da armor too!"

"Good, good. Weez will take 'em. If dey live, dey go to da pitz. If dey dead, we have somefink more den squigz and grotz fer da firez. An' we still loot 'em. Now, let's grab 'em and get da zog away from here."

The looting party greedily snagged the two marine's weapons, and dragged their newfound slaves West, away from the Wolves' Anvil. Away from the Hounds' brothers.


Cearul felt himself getting dragged by his arms. The vile scent of orks filled his nostrils as his senses began to work again. Cearul opened his eyes to see several orks in front of him, and he heard more behind him. The Hound's eyes darted around until they caught a glimpse of their target. Faolan was unmoving, yet Cearul's helmet told him Faolan still lived. His commander was depicted by a shade of dark red, meaning he was close to death unless someone intervened. The thought redoubled the urgency of the situation, and Cearul made a fist before yanking downwards with his right arm. The ork holding on gave a roar of surprise and pain as its own arm snapped. Cearul felt his other captor let go of his left arm, and the Hound sent an elbow into the alien's side. It whooped as the blow landed, but it gave the Cearul the time he needed to rip an axe off of the ork and finish the alien off in one quick blow. The crippled ork died next when the axe cleaved through its throat, sending the headless corpse tumbling backwards.

Cearul didn't have time to say a word before the rest of the mob was upon him. The marine was a blur, swinging fist and axe into any ork to come into reach. The greenskins hadn't understood their mistake before most lie dead in the grass, soaking the earth in their blood. They had never seen the fury a Hound held, and now they had doubled that by threatening the Hound's brother. Yet the orks were too arrogant in their charge, certain that they could bring down the marine in one colossal charge.

Cearul stepped on the final ork's throat, not willing to let it die from the deep gashes across its body. The Hound let the ork axe slip from his grasp and stooped downwards to reclaim his own axe and shield from a slain ork, and Fangbearer from another. With the weapons mag-locked onto his armor, Cearul walked towards Faolan. "You're not done yet," Cearul growled as he grabbed Faolan's arms and started dragging him, "plenty of caves in the woods. Orks won't notice us there."

Cabhan drove his claws into a tree, tearing through it as if it was paper. "Faolan and Cearul, both gone," he growled, "but where?"

Pryce shook his head, "We have no way of knowing, brother. Our only option is to rendezvous with the Wolves and the rest of our own brothers, and set off on the headhunt anew."

Cabhan turned to Pryce, and detached his own helmet to glare at his brother. "Retreat? And leave the two behind? That is cowardice, we have to follow them." Cabhan's hands were clenched in anger.

Pryce only shook his head, a barely noticeable motion from the power armor. "If we follow after Faolan, the Hounds are leaderless. They must know what has happened, and us leaving with only a hope of finding our lost brothers will only hurt the chapter. No, we can only meet the Wolf lines and let news of this spread."

Emyr spoke up, "The lad is right. Leaving will not help us. It isn't easy to say that, but we have to go."

Camhab growled, glared at Pryce, and donned his helmet. "Fine. But I do not feel right doing this." Pryce nodded, and the pair followed after Emyr as he took the lead.

Cearul looked around the cave, taking in every nook and cranny, familiarizing himself with it all. He would have to know every inch of the cave, for it would be his shelter for his near future. Until Faolan was in a more stable condition, he would not be able to make any sort of journey. To make matters worse, any form of communication they had was damaged from the explosion, and useless in its current state. The Hound looked down to the limp form of his leader, and shook his head.

"The Dreadmob will regret this. To the Emperor, I make this promise."


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/07/08 02:13:07


Post by: EvergreenArcher


[Pike-ard, Crion]

The lictor approached the western coast of Pike-ard. It was time. All biomass in Pike-ard and Jorgan were consumed, excluding the trees. That would come later, to reduce losses. Now, the brood had to move on, to a different location. The lictor’s gaze stayed firmly to the west. The hive would move from this continent, to the next.
Analyze Problem
Water. Deep. Aquatic Life. Dangerous. Swarm Would Be Hurt Bad. Adapt.
The Norn-Queen responded to this request. New Eggs were created to combat such a situation. There were ten eggs in total. Only one more thing was needed for them to hatch.
Push Them To The Water
Twenty warrior forms began the long trek through the dense jungle, pushing the eggs through as fast as they could. A small group of rippers and raveners followed them. It took a while. By the time they reached the coast, the sun was setting on the horizon.
Dump Them In. Find A Secure Location For The Brood.
The eggs responded to the water surrounding them by growing and hatching. Five aquatic transport organisms along with five combat bio-forms. The bulky, transports approached the shores and opened their mouths to reveal a massive area to hold tyranid forms. Two warriors entered each organism along with four raveners and six rippers. A large force wasn’t needed here. The brood just needed a secure location for the next step. With the bio-forms inside, the aquatic transports closed their mouths and descended into the dark void of the ocean with the combat organisms surrounding them.

Schools of fish swam away as fast as they could from these unknown monstrosities. Any fish that weren’t fast enough were caught by the lash whips equipped on the aquatic combat forms. They were brought in writhing in agony until they were ripped apart and consumed. A little more biomass could always be used. They traveled like this for a long time.
The forward transport guard spotted a larger fish in the water. It was soon followed by many more. They were fast and thin, about half the size of the transport vessels while just as large as the combat ones. The swarm reacted instantly, all the combat forms closing in on the school of carnivorous fish. The fish outnumbered the combat forms two to one, but the hive had much more adapted organisms. Lash whips tore out at them, snaring one and bringing it in. It tried to fight back, but the snaring tendrils were too strong. It was ripped apart and eaten in the time it took for the rest of the school to close. That was the mistake. The combat forms had advanced too far, and these fish saw easy prey in front of them. A few stayed to hold off the over-aggressive bio-forms while the rest converged upon the transport fleet. They were equipped with nothing but adaptations to hold tyranid land units. And they were all alone.
The fish latched onto the nearest bio-form with their sharp teeth. They punctured through it and got inside at the easy meal. Raveners and warriors were not meant for aquatic combat. They struggled to get away, but were all eaten by the fish. They then continued to gorge themselves on the dead carcass of the transport vessel before they fled. The combat organisms were returning and it was time for them to go. The hive had lost a portion of its biomass, but the fish the brood had eaten earlier would offset that a little. The hurt force continued on its way.

They began to see the ocean get brighter and brighter. The force rose up to the surface to see morning light shining upon a brand new continent to devour. It was time to find prey. The aquatic organisms approached the shore and released their cargo. Their usefulness was now up.
Consume
As one, the warriors, raveners, and rippers attacked what had brought them here as the hive mind demanded. Their biomass was retrieved and the small party continued on its way.

[Blackwall, Crion]

The bio-forms traveled inland until they arose over a small hill to see a sprawling structure in the distance. It was strange, and reminded the hive of the biomass it had consumed upon the other strange planet a long time ago well before the orks.
Find A Secure Location
The party worked its way around the nearby area until a hidden cave opening was spotted. They found that, inside, was a massive open area that continued for so long it could hold the entire tyranid force. It was perfect.
Secure Location Spotted. Commence Phase Two.

[Pike-ard, Crion]

The Norn Queen began the process of creating a water-adapted harridan. With this massive creature, all of the hive’s forces could make it across the ocean with little trouble in very few trips.

[Hours Later at Blackwall, Crion]

As the final bio-forms were unloaded from the vast, fast water harridan, it sank back into the depths of the sea to return to Pike-ard. The full force of the hive gathered in the cave. They were ready for battle.
Scout The Rest Of The Cave. Look For Areas Of Interest.
The Leaping Terror and its four companions set out to scour the rest of the place. It did not take long to find a long crumbling pipe that went away towards the structure. The lictors advanced under the cover of their chameleonic skin and searched for clues of where this led to and what it did. Only when the sounds of voices could be heard did the hive mind realize what this meant. A way into the sprawling complex and most importantly, Prey.
Long Live The Hive.

Spoiler:
So, I rolled well and found my way to Hive Katagor with minimal biomass loss and rolled a major victory on finding my way inside. Time to make the imperials learn to fear my power.



Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/07/08 10:11:32


Post by: chazz huggins


Randall read the reports that had been piling up for the past few days. Cogger Hive was meant to be a quick and decisive blow to the forces of chaos, this steel hell was anything but. Two new chaos war bands had come to reinforce the flayed legion and reports also suggested that the wretched heretics made an unlikely alliance with a Necron lord. Randall had never had any dealings with the Necrons, he knew only what he read, and that was that they were but soulless machines bent on the eradication of organic life. It struck Randall as odd the Necrons would make any compact with anyone, they must have some great scheme or perhaps they are insane. Regardless any creature that makes compact with heretics will die alongside them. There were reports from the lower hive of sabotage on flayed legion armories and other points of interest. Randall had at first credited these raids to pockets of hive resistance, however these raids were carried out with such precession that seemed unlikely. Good news came in the form of Valkyries, yet another force of guardsmen was en route to Cogger Hive. While Randall appreciated the assistance the massive amounts of guardsmen could prove problematic. This place was a den of corruption, he feared that heresy could take root in the guardsmen ranks. Other members of the ordo would just summarily execute the companies after to avoid all risk of heretical corruption. However, Randall did not agree with such methods as he found them a gross waste of the Emperor’s gifts. He would find another solution, memory wipes perhaps.

It was at this time Commissar Alenko entered Randall’s tent “Inquisitor, do you have a moment?” Randall gestured for the chair opposite of his desk and spoke “Of course, what troubles you Jethro.” Alenko took a seat “Inquisitor I can’t shake a terrible feeling I have.” Randall laced his fingers and rested his elbow on the desk as Alenko continued. “I can’t help but feel our enemy has us exactly where they want us, like we our playing into their hand somehow. It is if we are here by their choosing and not ours. The very thought of this makes me sick to my core, it feels like a knife twisting into my stomach.” Randall spoke “You’ve felt this way since the failed assault?” Alenko nodded “Aye, something about the whole incident seems wrong.” Randall arose and turned away “I’ve had the same fear, this place has drawn the gaze of some foul deity. We must end this madness, remove it from memory and existence. We will take the Citadel tomorrow or we will die in the attempt.”


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/07/16 20:24:13


Post by: Irishpeacockz


After his “promotion” the Architect wasted no time in finishing Prophet Garathal's study inside the Cathedral of Blight, which featured the actual study and Garathal’s personal prayer room and a large chamber which ran beneath the Cathedral. Grathal wasted no time in moving into this new, private space, furniture made to accommodate the size and weight of his armor were crafted from a mixture of wood and metal, the desk was buried beneath stacks of books and maps, ancient manuscripts from a bygone age which depicts long forgotten plagues and information about the surrounding swamplands and beyond. One could just make out the surface of the desk in areas where the the paper was less cluttered revealing various notches and scraps suggesting the desk was even as old as the manuscripts that covered it. The chair was equally as old and often squeaked in protest from the weight when Garathal sat in it as the reinforced wood was pushed to its limit. A shrine to the Grandfather stood in the corner where Garathal would often pray for guidance and often receiving nothing but silence. The room itself was dark being lit by candlelight primarily around the desk and the shrine, rusted wall mounted brackets that were set in place from the previous inhabitants had been fixed and used, guiding someone underneath to Garathal's chamber where he brewed terrible concoctions.

Garathal sat in his custom fitted desk examining a book on the various species that once inhabited the swamp which he now called home, whether they still live to this day is anyone's guess as Garathal got the impression the Disciples of Decay were the first ones to enter the deep swamp in some time. While his study was mostly completed the Cathedral itself was not which was the source of the banging of hammers and chisels against fine stone nearby. Such noise was intolerable to Garathal who could neither pray nor study with such a pandemonium of noise, a different kind of banging started however which was much closer than the cultists hammering at the Cathedral, quickly realising it was the door, Garathal's chair gave a squeak almost as a sigh of relief to be relieved of the weight as he answered the door. An annoyed Garathal opened the door to the malformed Architect, “What is it whelp ?” Snapped Garthal “You hammer at my door like a battering ram !” The man, if he could be called such a thing anymore lowered his gaze immediately, “Apologies my Lord, there is a number of things which need to be brought to your attention” “Such as ?” “The work on the outer walls are complete, they are reinforced and completely rebuilt in some areas, that goes for the towers as well. The Cathedral itself is taking shape but it is not yet finished perh-” “I know that fool, the banging of your hammers irritates me to no end” interrupted Garathal “We will work with all due haste my Lord. While the fortress would stand well enough against mass infantry we are terribly vulnerable from the air, I would suggest placing some additional towers around the premises with some anti aircraft guns placed atop of them”. As the Architect was blabbering on Garathal heard a familiar sound, the tapping of Baezael’s staff against the smooth stone floor, the sound grew louder with each passing second, interrupting the Architect for a second time Garathal spoke waving off the man like a pestering fly or maggot “Yes Yes, I will keep such things in mind going forward now begone”.

The shaman glared at the Architect from underneath his hood as the man ran out of the room, not returning his gaze “I see another one has received Nurgle's gift in my absence” “Indeed but tell me of the surrounding wildlife, did they accept The Plague Lord’s gifts ?” Garathal stood aside allowing Baezael to enter and pull up a normal chair which was dwarfed in comparison to Garathal's Baezael replied as he walked “Only time will tell but I have confidence that they will” Garathal tilted his head “What do you mean ? What did you do exactly ? Either they take to the gifts or they don't” “Perhaps for one such as yourself you could force the gifts onto others but The Lord of Pestilence has yet to offer me much of his powers so alas I must be a bit more …… creative in my methods” Garathal sat down in his own chair which protested again with a defiant squek “Details shaman, I want details” “ I infected the ground where some shrubs lied and watched as they took on a darker colour, a creature resembling a deer came to feed on the plant spreading the sweet sickness to the animal. I proceeded to spill the infected guts into a nearby lake where many creatures come to drink and feed, a reptile of some description began to devour the carcass as I left to find more lakes and plants, After finding a few more spots I decided to check the birds in the various trees that dotted the swamp and discovered that they too had been infected, perhaps the worms in the ground were infected also ? I must admit I am not sure but this natural way of spreading the plague has worked before and I am confident it will work again” Garathal nodded “Good, Good continue to observe the wildlife in the coming days if all goes well we shall definitely see a difference”. Both of them stood out of their chairs and began to walk towards the door “Tell that fool Kremus to bring me his most human looking men, I require their services” Baezael slightly nodded his head making the bone charms around his neck clang “It would be pleasure” Garathal turned and closed the door behind him as the tapping of Baezael’s staff grew quieter and quieter.

Voices echoed throughout the unfinished Cathedral, they were only mumbles at first with Garathal struggling to hear exactly what was precisely being said, the voices however the quickly grew into a heated argument and it became clear to Garathal both who was arguing and what exactly was being said with a sigh Garathal took one last glance at Nurgle's shrine before leaving his study. Kremus, the Architect and ten cultists stood outside the Cathedral when Garathal found them, with Kremus being in the Architect’s face “I don’t give a gak what he told ya, he obviously changed his mind now get out of my way runt” the Architect bite back “Bah ! You are just a glorified grunt, another meat shield to be thrown into the grinder, at least I actually pull my weight around here cripple !” Before Kremus could retaliate Garathal stepped in “Enough ! I asked you to send me a few humans and you almost start a brawl ?” Kremus took a very different posture, his back once straightened was now arched and his chest once puffed out was now tucked in. Hisvoice once loud and commanding was now soft and trembling “In my defence lord he di-” “Silence fool do not dare talk back to me” Garathal turned to one of the adjacent cultists “You ! Follow me to my study” turning and stompong back to his study, the cultist scampered after his master. The cultist looked in awe of the shrine dedicated to the Lord of Rebirth in Garathal’s study “Stop gawking at the shrine and pay attention maggot” the cultists snapped out of whatever trance that he was in and straightened his back “There is a city to the south of us in the swamp, Nortannis, you are tasked with infiltrating the city if possible and scope out their defences understood ?” The cultist nodded “Yes holy prophet it shall be done” “You will need a persona, you wont be allowed to just walk straight in as you are” Garathal paused for a moment. “Your new name will be Mason Lee the youngest son of a farmer who has come to Nortannis in search of more rewarding and more thrilling work, i’m sure you can make up the details yourself, now get out” the cultist left without saying a word, Garathal shouted out after him “And change out of those rags, even farmer’s sons have more fashion sense than you”

Mason Lee departed the Cathedral of Blight with an armed escort of beastmen as many of the human followers either died at Dorn's Shield or are helping the Architect finish the construction work, Mason did not mind the beastmen in fact he actually kind of liked them. Sure they could get carried away with bloodlust in the heat of battle but around the campfires at night or when the lads ever find a bit of booze to pass round they make fine companions, they like many other who joined the Disciples of Decay they merely wanted a place to feel welcome and Papa Nurgle does not care who you are as long as you are willing to serve. The roads upon leaving the Cathedral were deserted and overgrown with the swamp trying to claim the pathway for its own, after a few hours walk south the roads became bigger and the path was more beaten showing traces of at least occasional use, upon passing a few travelers who gawked at the beastmen Mason stopped. “I will proceed alone, it should be safe enough from here and we are encountering more travelers the further we go on, we must be near Nortannis” one of the beastmen slammed his fist against his bare, burly chest “May the Plague Lord watch over you comrade” Mason mirrored the action “May he watch over us all” parting ways Mason continued on alone. As he trudged on he encountered more and more travelers however all were leaving Nortannis not approaching it, was something wrong ? After another twenty minutes Mason heard a choir of voices mumbles and through the trees sat the setting sun which still managed to shine through the foliage, the sun was pierced by three dark lines upon squinting Mason realised what he was looking at, the towering spires of Nortannis. Continuing down the path which bended around a hill Mason saw the city in all it’s might, huge walls were erected around the city which were manned by the Planetary Defense Force, by the looks of things Nortannis was in lockdown with the gate shut with a huge crowd of refugees shouting and raising their fists, demanding entry. A single trooper stood above the gate shouting at the gathered crowd “We have already caught seven of you fethers trying the scale the walls since this morning if you we catch anymore we will gun you down and burn your bodies, Nortannis is under quarantine and none of you feths are getting in end of fething story” the trooper globbered out a phlegmy spit with rocketed down to the crowd below. Mason joined the crowd asked the nearest man what was going on “Apparently some Nurgilite Cultists were spotted in the area and Lord Mayor Lawson Barlow shat his trousers and put Nortannis under Quarantine, I lived here all me life I go out to do a bit of fishing and I find meself locked out of me own home what a croc of gak” another man turned around “Barlow ? Dont make me laugh everyone knows those bitches in armor the Order of Stalwart Blades or some rubbish, they are ones behind this” as the men were arguing who was the blame a hooded figure bumped into Mason and continued walking upon checking his pockets he found a piece of parchment which had some writing on it, unfortunate for Mason he could not read and decided to slip away from the crowd and report back to his master.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/07/19 01:07:52


Post by: Gore Grandpa


+++Gore Spawn Campsite, The Black Sand, North of Mount Gorgon, Luna Epsilon+++
Ziinek smiled as he watched the rest of his artillery being brought in… Basilisk’s, Medusa’s, and Thudd Guns being dropped off and unloaded in the middle of camp. Sparks flew as he constantly ground two of his axes together, a tick of his, he was growing impatient. He strode around camp taking stock of what equipment they had, he was not worried about the size of his forces, he knew that any conflict boiled down to the slaughter of the enemy or the slaughter of himself, Khorne would be pleased either way. An empty space near a rather large tent caught his eyes, three of his Chimeras were gone, enraged by this he stormed into the tent and threw the closest man to the ground, pushing axes close to the man’s face, “Gorebaron, where are my vehicles!” Obviously uncomfortable and knowing death might be near the Gorebaron spoke, “My Prince, they are but out on a scouting mission, searching for fresh culling spots.” Ziinek went from angry to joyous in an instant, he withdrew his axes from his Baron’s throat, leaving slight marks, “Well why didn’t you just say so? Have they found anything.” The Baron shifted his weight, slightly uneased by his superiors instability, “They voxed back about five minutes ago, they have spotted a small caravan of barges making their down river, they appear to be traders but have some military elements with them. Ziinek, Ziinek where are you going?” Ziinek merrily made his way over to an idle Medusa and hopped in the driver’s seat, he started the artillery tank and glanced over at the Baron, “Are you coming Baron?” “Where are you going?” “I’m going to meet up with the scouting party and cull the caravan, oh it will be glorious!”
Without further hesitation he began moving the vehicle forward and followed the river up as fast as he could, the tracks of the massive tank creating small trenches in the relatively soft soil. It didn’t take him long before he ran into a couple of the Chimera’s driving his way, Ziinek stopped the vehicle but feet from the others. He popped his head out of the front hatch, as did the Seargants who were more than surprised at the chance meeting, “M-my Lord. We did not expect to see you out here, we were just ret-” “Where are they?” “Where are who, my Lord?” Ziinek rolled his eyes, “Obviously the Caravan you reported, I want to send them to Khorne.” “Yes, of course my Lord, this way.” They all returned to their respective vehicles and began moving back up river, the Medusa struggling to keep up with the other vehicles. They stopped at a point where the river began to narrow, a good choke point for the culling.
-------------------------
Svarne sat on a barrel wishing the day to be over already, he hated the trading business, as did many others. He had no choice though, the Mayor of Arcadis Bay didn’t let people have the freedom of choice, everyone had to do ‘what was good for the Emperor’, he was sick of it. Sick of having to go on the same trade route over and over again, sick of not being able to go out and explore, sick of the corruption that was the Imperium. He just wanted to get away from it all, to let loose his frustrations and travel the stars, not just him, many people felt that way, but no one would ever say it. He glared at one of the PDF soldiers as they walked by, the Mayor had sent them to make sure the people were safe, but they all knew it was just to keep them from fleeing or getting out of hand. There was a panic starting a couple barges up, people began shouting and running, the PDF tried to keep them in line. He leaned over the side of the barge to see what the ruckus was, he immediately saw it, there were military vehicles on the bank, with their weapons aimed at the lead barge.
-------------------------
Ziinek moved to the back of the tank and aimed the gun towards the leading barge, the anticipation got to him as his first shot missed and only capsized the first barge, he went to load another shell but there were none, he had forgot to load the vehicle. “Feth! Feth!” He punched the side of the hull in his fury, his vox sparked to life, “My lord, shall we open fire?” “NO! Leave them to me!” He kicked open the rear hatch and took two axes out, he made his way over to the closest Chimera. The PDF troopers on the other four barges began to fire on them, their shots missing wildy. The back hatch on the Chimera dropped and one of the men walked out, “My lord, look to the second to last barge, this is interesting.” Without another word Ziinek climbed atop the Chimera and looked, one of the Imperial citizens had just finished hacking a trooper to death.
-------------------------
Svarne watched as the massive gun fired into the water, missing its mark but flipping the leading barge in the process. Then the PDF began to fire back on the assailants, some of them began forcing the traders to go and fight, either throwing them over boards with simple tools or executing them for cowardice. Svarne felt the adrenaline hit him, his fight or flight instinct kicked in. a Trooper walked up to him holding a pistol, he knew what was going to happen. Without thinking twice Svarne grabbed a hatchet and swung at the trooper, nearly severing his head, he swung again until it came off. Looking at what he had done he dropped to the floor and vomited. When he stood back up he looked to the bank and saw a rather large figure standing on one of the vehicle, and they were not attacking. He turned and saw the utter anarchy on the other barges, he stood holding his hatchet, “Brothers! Sisters! Fight back, no longer can we let the Mayor rule our lives!” At the sound of his rallying cry the other traders began to fight back, using whatever they could use as a weapon. Slowly and grudgingly they began to take the barges over, either tossing the PDF over the side or outright killing them. Svarne and his trader kin made their way to the front barge where they were confronted by the remaining PDF, eight of them armed with rifles and pistols held the civilians in their sights. Svarne stopped, his grip on his hatchet tightening, he knew that death was next, but not before he would kill them.
-------------------------
Ziinek watched as the Imperials began to turn on the soldiers, losses were heavy on both sides, the killing was beautiful. The simple civilians began to push them back onto the last barge, until there were 8 troopers left. Ziinek would not be idle for this, he lept of the Chimera and threw the axes in his hands, as he charged down the bank he threw another duo of axes. He jumped and landed behind the last four soldiers and began hacking them with his last two axes, one began to run. One of the traders killed the soldier as he fled, this was the same who began the revolt, Ziinek quickly walked up to the man and began looking him over. He seemed startled when he stood from retrieving his simple weapon only to see the Champion before him. The man’s eyes wandered to the string of skulls Ziinek wore. Interested to see what he would do, the Goreprince took the heads of 7 of the PDF troopers and a small rope and walked back to the trader, “Who, are you?” Baffled, he didn’t know exactly what to say, “I-I-I’m Sv-Svarne, I’m a trader from Arcadis Bay. T-these are my kinsfolk and fellow traders.” “Show me why I shouldn’t kill everyone here.” Svarne was caught off guard, unsure of what to do. He made a gutsy move and took the heads and rope from the beast in front of him, “And who are you?” He began to flay the skulls of the troopers and string them on the rope, he fought to hide his disgust at the mangled corpses he was butchering. Ziinek remained silent, to see what potential this man had to him, and if he would pass this test. It was not very long before Svarne finished putting the last of the 7 skulls on the string, he was about to give it to the beast in front of him but something caught his eye. There were 8 skulls on his belt, the string had 7… he looked the beast in the eyes and took the head of the trooper next to him and added it to the belt. He stood and help the string out to the man, he was sweating, he had either just killed everyone, or he had just saved them. Ziinek took both ends of the belt in each hand, then tied it around Svarne’s neck, “Ziinek, I am Goreprince Ziinek of the Gore Spawn Chaos Warband.” Svarne’s eyes widened, gasps and whispers were heard in the crowd behind him. He looked back and got everyone's attention before looking back to Ziinek and slowly dropping to one knee. Svarne had heard the stories of Ruinous Powers and blasphemous Heretics, but here, on Crion… Surely times were changing. Ziinek turned and began to walk away, then Svarne spoke up, “Thank you, Goreprince, for saving my people.” Ziinek smiled behind his faceplate, “Take your barges further down river, stop when you reach the campsite a few kilometers before the smoldering ruins of Federov. Food and provisions will await you there.” “Again, I thank you, but surely you want something of us?” “Indeed, but that will come soon enough, I have plans for you Svarne. Rejoice, I believe Lord Khorne has his eye upon you.”


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/07/19 02:03:14


Post by: Bobthehero


------ Crion, 85th Command base, Drake's Point ------

The command element of the 85th was gathered once again in Gallus command post.

'' Sir, I can handle those PDF, no matter what the file says about them '' said Castella

'' I am well aware of your skills, Castella, but this is relatively minor compared to the meeting that was called, your diplomacy skills will serve everyone a lot better, besides, I've heard those Blood Fort troops were quite the hothead, I want to enjoy myself on this tour, too ''

'' Enjoy yourself, sir? ''

'' Mhmm, Riley had his fun, now its my turn, aye, those PDF are going to need a show of force to have e'm follow us, I'll be glad to do just that ''

'' If you call that fun... faili- ''

'' There was no failure, our man was extracted, we suffered no extra losses, that was my objective '' Riley interrupted

'' But you let the good Major get away ''

'' With twenty men and and little to no time to plan or blueprints of the objective? It went as well as we could've hoped, besides, we're going back to the city now, we'll have time to capture him, if not, there will be other targets ''

This time Gallus spoke before Castella could answer back '' Make sure that you have some of our men nearby if you're going to capture him, he's a silver tongued bastard and an ex-PDF major, too, means he could sway some of your support to his side, won't have him escape us again ''

'' If he's even in the city... ''

'' It doesn't matter, he's not the only Tiller in a position of power, Castella, make sure you pack war gear this time, I don't want to end up with a broken arm like the last meeting ''

'' Yes sir ''

'' Riley you will oversee our base, until we figure out what's going on at that meeting, I will give you orders then ''

'' Noted, sir ''

------ Crion, Blood Fort Airspace ------

'' Pad's on the viewport, sir, we have the go to for landing, no more than thirty seconds ''

Gallus nodded and grumbled a '' yes '' and sat back in the Valkyrie cargo bay. The gunship landed shortly after and opened its ramp, revealing the bleak fort. The five man squad exited the flyer and fell into a single line, following Gallus. They were met by a few troopers.

'' Uh, you're the Stormtroopers I suppose, the Lord-Commander wants to see you, come ''

Behind his visor, Gallus raised an eyebrow, he knew cold men, but these troopers seemed like something else, following them, he entered the fort itself, comiting the defences and path to memeory, his monoscope recording what might escape his watchful gaze. They arrived at a courtyard, where four men were standing on gallows.

'' For the High Crime of Treason against our Lord Governor Tobias Payne, Master of Crion and Protector of Faith, you are sentenced to death. Any last words? ''

One of the Tillers answered with a '' Long live Horatio! '' and the traitors were unceremoniously kicked in the back, their neck snapping as they reached the end of their ropes. Their executionners walked towards the new arrivals.

'' I'll take it from there, corporal, back to your post ''

'' Aye sarge '' said the man that guided the Scions, and with that, he left, leaving the Stormtroopers and the executionner. Gallus stopped to take a look at the executed traitors.

'' Somethin' wrong? ''

'' No, just curious, how long you had e'm in here? ''

'' Bunch of days, why? ''

'' They had anything to tell you? ''

'' Nah, just lowly footmen, screamed real good ''

'' I am sure they did, alright then, take me to your Commander ''

'' Lord-Commander ''

Gallus grunted and waved the sergeant forward. He had more pressing matters than to deal with semantics, at least the display of ruthlessness worked in the favor of the men of the Blood Fort and Gallus had little doubts they'd be very efficient when unleashed on the traitorous populace.

'' He's in there, your men will have to wait outside, Lord-Commander's orders ''

'' Of course '' Gallus gave the order and entered the room, he was greated by the Lord Commander.

'' Hello ''

Gallus raised an eyebrow behind his helmet, the greeting was almost arrogant in its simplicity he answered back with the sign of the aquila and saluted the Lord Commander with his proper title.

'' Dispense with the formalities, will you? I am aware why you are here and I'll level with you, I am not a fan of it, you're outsiders, coming in to meddle with the affairs of my men ''

'' We're here to seek and destroy the heretics, in that, our goals are the same, and yes, your forces will submit, while you were here playing the tyrants, my men were hunting down and killing forces you can barely imagine, I will not bully your troops, but they will listen to what my men tell them ''

The two men on the side of Samuel raised their lasguns almost at once. Gallus sighed and put his right hand up in the hand, almost as if offering it for the Lord Commander to shake. He twisted his wrist up, revealing the two primed frag grenades in his palm. Crane face went pale.

'' You will die, too ''

'' Will I? This armor has stopped autocannon rounds in the past, its also fully sealed, something your men might want to emulate, furthermore once I throw them on your side, there'll be plenty of obstacle in between me and the explosion, including you, and no, even on max charge your lasguns will not go through the plate before the frags explode. Now, if you'd like us to act like we're serving the same Emperor and Imperium, order your men to stand down, and I'll put away the frags ''

Samuel ordered his bodyguards to put away their weapons and Gallus triggered the grenades off. The Lord Commander roared in laughter as the tension left the room.

'' Maybe you'll be decent after all, I doubt my men will pose much problem to your Stormtroopers if they're the same calibre as you are, however I have news for you. I will not be leading the Blood Fort garrison in New Pavus, Rodrick Payne, the nephew of our good Governor will take the lead of the troops, you'll meet him soon enough, I am sure of that ''

'' Well that'll complicate things a bit, I'll have to divert Scions for security and... bah, nevermind, we'll take care of the man ''

'' I am sure you will, is there anything else? ''

Gallus shook his head and saluted back at the Lord Commander who signed the aquila as the Tempestor Prime left the room. Gallus ordered his bodyguards to follow him.

'' Sir? ''

'' Everything went well all things considered, I am pretty sure they like us, this'll make the whole mission a lot easier, lets go ''



Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/07/23 15:04:15


Post by: Palleus


(The following is a collaboration between Chazz, Smudge, and myself.)

The ride to thunda castle’s battlements was silent, save for the continuing battle beneath. Hannibal sat on one side of the orca alongside Guts, IronGore, and Gort. Their bulky frames stooped slightly to keep their heads from knocking against the transport’s celling. Five tau battlesuits stayed motionless in the middle of the craft, attached to a rail in the celling.

The tau escort craft chattered back and forth on their radios, picking their targets and confirming their kills as the orca made its way safely to the battlements. As they began to slow, descending on their drop zone, Mirrorstone’s voice came over the speakers.

“The entrance is thirty meters from the drop zone. Expect heavy resistance on arrival.”

Gort grunted in approval “Wouldn’ ‘ave it any otha’ way.”

“We will cover the flanks. Hannibal, you and your men take the center.”

“Gots it. We’z ready ta’ go.”

The door to the orca opened as it lowered to the ground. The nobs rushed out as soon as it opened wide enough.

“WAAAAGH!”

The war cry of the defenders sounded over the hum of the engines as a mass of orks and nobs rushed to meet the attackers dead on with spears and squig-hide shields. Two orks suddenly fell to javelins piercing through their chests. Guts pulled another pair from his quiver.

Gort and IronGore flanked Hannibal as he lead the countercharge into the defenders, his buzz-saw arm revving with anticipation before plunging it into the feral masses. With ease, he carved his way through their simple leather armor, and cut apart any boy that stood in his way. IronGore and Gort dug into combat right alongside their leader, with IronGore’s spiked gauntlets smashing and stabbing though the crowd, and Gort’s claws tearing through them effortlessly.

As the mob of defenders began to surround the trio, flames leapt though the air, and enveloped the flanking boys. Stepping from the orca, the crisis suits continued to fire their flame, burning precise swathes through the tied up defenders, and leaving Hannibal’s nobs without so much as singed hair. Several orks broke off from the main combat to strike at their fiery foes, but those that were not cut down by Gort’s thirsty claws, met their end at the points of the suits’ fusion blades.

As the brief bloodbath ended, Hannibal turned towards the courtyard, only to find his way blocked by more defenders. This time lead by four loud nobs with necklaces full of skulls hung about their necks. Rage turned to confusion, as the nobs found themselves with several small red dots on their chest. Their confusion turned to horror as a quartet of missiles whistled past the orca, and blasted the defenders apart.

Mirrorstone descended from the sky, looking quite satisfied with her handiwork.

“Nice shootin’” Said Hannibal, as he led his lieutenants forward, though the now cleared path.

As the ork and Tau retinue made their way into the courtyard of Thunda Castle they were not greeted as they expected. Two parallel lines of orks dawned in grey trench coats stood before them. They stood at parade rest with their polished shootas slung over their right shoulders. Gort smiled as he flexed his claws, and stepped forwards to cut the lines to ribbons.

“What in Gork’s name are ya doin!” He bellowed as Mirrorstone’s hand pulled him back.

Mirrorstone spoke “Halt! They’re standing down.”

“Dunno, boss.” Said Guts, uneasily etching the shaft of his javelin with his thumb. “Deez boyz look like tha’ blood axes… An’ ‘dey ain’t ta be trusted. I’z smell a trap.”

“I don't care if it's a trap.” Mirrorstone said “We fight with respect, even for Be'gel - present company excepted. We shall not attack them.”

“Cmmon’, Lemme’ krump ‘em, and we’z can be done wit’ it.” Gort pleaded, his claws itching for more blood.

Hannibal looked at the oddly calm orks and then over to Sub-Commander Mirorstone before nodding, “If dey want ta invite us in, past tha’ defenses, den who am I ta’ argue? We betta’ see what ‘dey gots ta’ say.” With a smile, Mirrorstone began to hover up the steps toward the ork great hall.

As the party reached the top of the steps they were greeted by a nob clad differently from the grey gas masked orks that formed their path, though by his trappings Hannibal could tell he was a Kommando. The kommando looked over to Hannibal and spoke “So here comes da fabled Hannibal, builder of mountains, breaker of clans, stompa of uglies.”

Hannibal’s eyes narrowed. “Ya sure know loads… An’ who’z you?”

The Kommando grinned “Names Gadnuk and my boss would like a word.”

“You serve Big Boss?” Mirrorstone asked.

Gadnuk laughed “Dats just da name da stupid locals gave him, he prefers to introduce himself, come he’s waiting inside.” Gadnuk was about to open the door but quickly turned around “Unfortunately you all can’t come in, just bring your most trusted lads.”

Hannibal turned back to his retinue “Gort, Irongore you’re wit’ me. Guts I need yer’ sharp eyes out ‘ere. Keep ‘em honest.”

Guts took out a second javelin and nodded “Got it boss.”

Mirrorstone spoke “I request to be there also.”

Gadnuk shook his head “Can’t let you in wif dat snazzy suit of mega armor you got on ya.”

Mirrorstone gave a grunt of annoyance before her suit began to shed apart. The suit parted to reveal the stocky Tau officer in a grey bodyglove. “Not an issue.”

One of her men spoke up, the voice unreadable through the heavy artificial speakers. “Sub-Commander, I can’t let you go in there unprotected.”

"I will be fine Sha'rail: I won’t be defenseless.” Mirrostone said, pulling a pulse pistol from the interior of her battlesuit.

Sha'rail seemed hesitant. “You have too much faith in these Be’gel.”

“I know well enough to be on my guard." she barked. "Guard the entrance.”

Gadnuk spoke. “Right let’s head on in da boss is waiting.” Gadnuk opened the door and entered with the party, as the four orks and one tau entered the hall the heavy door croaked shut sealing the sun behind them.

The ork great hall was a dim place lit only by several torches on the walls, and a large hearth, above the hearth was a dozen heads, trophies from various Crionian beasts. Only a few feet away from hearth sat a large round table with about a dozen empty chairs, only two of those chairs were currently occupied on the left sat Hannibal’s arch enemy the dreaded SkullEater. On the right directly behind the hearth sat a larger figure, the shadows swayed around his forum illuminating only vagueness.

As Gadnuk and the guests approached the table the ork spoke “Bout time you ladz got here I was worried da food would get cold, hope you lot like squig pies and fungus beer. Take a seat, I reckon we got some talkin to do.”

Gadnuk sat down I the chair next to the ork. Hannibal looked mistrustful of the ork and spoke bluntly

“So, you’z tha ‘big boss?’“

Big Boss laughed “I hate that name deez feralz are so unimaginative, must drive you right mad. My name is Nox Warprida.”

Mirrorstone regarded the ork with a mix of conditioned anger and grudging respect. “I know of you, Ork. The Warprida pillaged nearly a dozen ships from the hated Empire two years ago.”

Nox grinned “Guilty as charged, you Tau boyz got a lot of dakka on yer kroozas.”

Mirrorstone cocked her head, biting back a savage retort. It was at this moment a crew of Gretchen brought forth a dozen pies and sat them on the table.

Nox smiled a mouthful of tusks “Sit, my grot Gobbles makes da best squig pies.”

Hannibal took a seat and Mirrorstone sat soon after, Irongore and Gort remained standing, ready for the slightest provocation.

Nox swallowed a bite of pie “I’ve heard a lot about you Hannibal, you’ve been a right pain in my side.”

“Glad ta’ hear my efforts ‘ave been appreciated.”

Nox laughed “No doubt, I came to this world lookin fer zog brained feralz and here I find you, a proper mek among savages.” Nox saw Hannibal not eating his pie, so Nox struck his two pronged fork into the pie and took another bite.

“I was once just some two bit Goff mek, fixen choppas on the cheap. Then one day that all changed, the sky spat a great rok of pure power at my door and I became more than Nox, I became the fabled WarpRida. I then brought all the clans of Wuldgrund under my rule. After dat I brought half of the Chardon sectah to its knees.”

Hannibal leaned back in his chair “An’ wot’s tha’ point a’ all dis’ ego strokin’? You invited me ‘ere fer somethin’.”

Nox grinned “I see a lot of myself in you. With the proper guidance you could be truly great.”

Mirrorstone looked over to Hannibal “I don't like where this is heading...”

“I wouldn’t be where I am today if I didn’t have the right boyz backing me.” Noz interrupted. “Zog I’d probably still be on Wuldgrund if it weren’t fer da Doof and Gadnuk.”

Hannibal raised his brow “So wot’cha offerin’, Warprida?”

Nox laughed “I’m offering you zoggin everything. I want to help you along your path, Da IronHorde could be fing of true beauty. In exchange for my mentoring you we’ll join forces and bring dis zoggin gak ole to its knees.”

Mirrorstone lowered her hand on her holstered pistol. Hannibal face contorted with thought as Nox continued speaking “I know you want more den just Crion you want it all. You help me out and I will give you yer own Kroza so you can ditch dis squig gak world.”

Hannibal rubbed his chin “Wot’s tha’ catch?”

Nox smiled “Two fings. One deres someone hiding out on dis world dat I need to kill you help me find him so I can personally put a slug in his skull. Second dis deal don’t got no room fer Tau or any other stinking alien, you work with me you only work with me.”

Hannibal looked across the table at Skulleater “And ‘im?”

Nox shrugged “He failed me he’s yours to do with as you see fit.” SkullEater violently arose from his seat his mega armor croaking as he did, “Dat wasn’t part of da deal you zoggin git grubber!”

Nox spoke condescendingly “Sit down” Nox taped some buttons in his wrist mounted kustom kommand glove and SkullEater against his own will sat down. The ork struggled against the locks in his own suit of armor to no avail. Hannibal couldn’t help but laugh. Nox smiled “So what’s it gonna be Hannibal?”

Mirrorstone's clenched on her pistol but halted as Hannibal began to speak. “I got to admit, a krooza is mighty tempting. But let’s make somethin’ clear. I’z my own ork, I don’ need yer advice and I don’t need ya’ telling me who I fight wit. So zog you, zog yer’ stupid kroza, an’ zog yer’ Blood Axe leftenut. Ya’ stay outt’a my way, an' I won’ krump ya’. But don’ ‘fink for a morkin’ second that I’d be yer’ lacky.”

Nox shook his head “You would rather fight alongside deez soft blue zenoz den yer own zoggin kind! Deez Tau don’t know the first thing of a proper fight, you aint an ork, yer just some two-bit runt from dis Gak hole.”

Mirrorstone growled and drew her pistol on Nox but Gadnuk flipped the table over towards her, forcing her and Hannibal to dodge it.

Nox growled taping at his command glove “SkullEater, be useful fer once in yer zoggin life.” And the feral warlord returned to life and roared as he charged at Hannibal.

Nox shouted as he looked at Hannibal “Stay out of my way Feral, or I’ll kill ya deader den zog!” Nox then pressed a button in the center of his x harness. In a blue flash of light, he and Gadnuk were gone.

Hannibal barely had time to react before Skull Eater plowed into him, knocking him back into a chair, causing it to shatter into splinters.

“Get back in yer’ suit!” Hannibal called to Mirrorstone before noticing she was already rushing for the door.

Skull Eater ran towards Hannibal again, his massive footfalls shaking the ground as he ran, bellowing a mighty “WAAAAAAGH!”

Hannibal leapt to the side, barely avoiding Skull Eater’s power claw smashing where he was a moment ago. Gort shouted his own battle cry as he leapt onto Skull Eater’s massive frame, his claw-hands ripping into the warboss’ mega armor, and sending showers of shrapnel before Skull Eater finally knocked him off with a heavy swing, knocking him into the metal doorway, and bursting it open.

Hannibal rose to his feet, revving his buzz-saw arm as IronGore moved to his side.

“Traita’!” Skull eater bellowed, spittle flying out from his tusks.

“Ya’ left me ta’ rot in tha’ arena fer’ years, Skull Eata’!” IronGore snapped back in a rare display of rage. “Ya’ betrayed me, Not tha’ otha’ way around! An’ payback’s long overdue…”

“I got tha’ arm.” Hannibal muttered to IronGore, getting a snort of approval in return as Skull Eater charged them again, swiping his claw towards the two greenskins, aiming to behead his foes with one fell strike. IronGore barely ducked under the claw, a sharp whistle sounding in his ear as it cut through the air. The whistle ended in a massive clang as Hannibal’s buzz-saw arm struck, lodging itself into the klaw’s mechanics and stopping it a few inches short of the mek’s neck. For a moment, the two struggled back and forth with their mechanical limbs, wrenching the tangled mass of blades nearer and further from Hannibal’s flesh.

“Yer’ a fool if ya ‘fink yer’ gunna win ‘dis tug-a-war.” Said Skull Eater, his armor groaning with the effort.

“I ain’t plannin’ on winnin’ no tug-a-war, ya git. I’z tha distraction.”

Skull Eater had only a moment for a look of confusion before Hannibal shoved the klaw arm as far up as possible as IronGore brought his tankhammer down on Skull Eater’s now exposed torso.

With two anti-tank bombs on the end of the hammer.

Hannibal did not have time to even register the explosion before he was catapulted into the stone wall. His world quickly turning black as his ears rang.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Hannibal finally came to, his ears still rang loudly as he opened his eyes to see Guts standing over him.

“Boss. Boss, get up, boss.”

Hannibal barely heard him though the ringing. He shook his head and attempted to stand up. He succeeded in sumbling back down onto his back with a grunt as his battered spine found pieces of rubble to rest upon. Taking stock of his injuries, Hannibal noticed the pieces of shrapnel lodged in his extremities, sticking out of nearly every chink in his iron armor. His eyes and neck were saved if only because his good arm that he threw in front to protect himself was covered in a double helping of shrapnel. The sharp pain of a thousand needles began to slowly grow as the shock started to wear off.

Being more careful, Hannibal slowly rose again.

“How long?”

“You was only out fer’ a few minutes. By tha’ time me, an’ tha’ blueskins took out tha’ rest-a tha’ greycoats, you was already like ‘dis.”

“What abou’ IronGore, an’ Skull Eata’? Gort?”

“Look fer’ yerself.”

As Guts turned to the side, Hannibal could see outside the metal doors first. Gort was there, angrily nursing a broken arm, and hobbling as he walked through the bodies of the greycoat greenskins, his jaw hanging at a strange angle as he grumbled. Most of the dead were clearly filled with gaping cauterized wounds, or were burnt to a blackened husk. Tale tell signatures of the tau that killed them. Painfully turning to look at the inside, the first thing to cross Hannibal’s sight was Skull Eater himself.

Or rather, his corpse.

Taking the directed portion of the blast, even the warboss’ armor could not save him from the anti-tank strike, turning the hardened metal against the bearer. His entire chest was shredded and filled with shrapnel, his face frozen in a look of shock. Turning further, Hannibal looked to IronGore, barely sitting on his own accord with his several pieces of shrapnel struck though his limbs, one arm hung limply to the side, dislocated from his shoulder.

“You alrigh’ IronGore? Hannibal asked after an agonizing walk over to his lieutenant.

IronGore simply nodded as he ripped a large piece of shrapnel from his shoulder, and shoved the arm back into place with a loud pop. “Neva’ betta’.”

Hannibal nodded, barely keeping conscious as the pain continued to grow. “’den ‘dere’s jus’ one more ‘fing left ta’ do before dis’ iz ova’…” he said, his gaze falling on Skull Eater’s body, then to his shattered buzz-saw arm.

“Guts I’z gunna need ta’ borrow one a’ yer’ axes.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The battle continued outside as the orks carved into each other with no end in sight. Even with tau forces firing into the mass of green bodies, neither side moved as more and more orks took the places of the fallen. An immobile battle line of death was creating a steady wall of bodies.

With halting footsteps Hannibal fought though the agony to walk to the edge of Tunda Castle’s battlements. Taking a moment to catch his breath, he surveyed the carnage outside before presenting his trophy.

Raising Skull Eater’s head to the masses, Hannibal used his remaining strength to let out a great call of “WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!” that sounded over the cacophony of battle. As one, the orks stopped fighting and turned to the silhouette of Hannibal standing on the battlements, victorious.

Their battle forgotten, the sea of greenskins bowed to their new master, ruling by rite of conquest.

"Oi!” Came a voice from the green tide, one of Skull Eater’s nobs. “He’s jus’ a mek! Tha’ mek krunped Skull Eata’? I ain’t gunna’ be ruled by some mek! He don’ look so tough! He ain’t bigga’ ‘den me!”

Several voices of other loyal nobs joined in agreement. As they voiced their defiance, the rest of the greenskins backed away carefully, afraid of the coming judgement. Feeling his energy slip away, Hannibal slumped down the wall of the battlements and turned to Mirrorstone.

“Ya’ can shoot ‘dose gits anytime ya like.”

Mirrorstone's marker drones ascended over the battlefield, painting the resisting orks in infrared hues. Mirrorstone gave the order to fire.

As Hannibal’s vision started to fade again, blue flashes signaled the final end of the battle for Thunda Castle.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/07/23 21:07:20


Post by: Gore Grandpa


+++The Black Sands, North of Mount Gorgon, Luna Epsilon+++
Svarne sat and spoke with his people as they floated down river, the hard wood of the barge providing little comfort for any. “Friends, we have a very difficult choice to make that will affect the rest of our lives, and the lives of our family. As you know we have affiliated ourselves with the Ruinous Powers, and turned our back on the Imperium.” One of the elder men cleared his throat before speaking in a hoarse voice, “Well what has the Imperium ever done for us? They force us into labor, they take our money, and they force us to our knees. ‘For what?’ I ask, they take but never give. This is an improvement if you ask me.” Another spoke, this time a woman with her child, “Yes, live in the city may be rough, but what’s to say this will be any better? What’s to stop them from killing us?” A third spoke, “If they were going to kill us they would have done it back there.” Quarreling and bickering soon followed as people proposed courses of action while trying to debunk others. Svarne tried to end it, “Stop it. Stop it!” They stopped arguing and looked to their pseudo leader, “Ok, I understand you all feel differently and that many of you are scared, but we have to lay out the facts. We killed PDF troopers, we sided with Chaos. If we return without them there is no doubt we will be imprisoned, but if we stay we may be no better off.” “Well then, what would you have us do?” “I will stay, to see what this Goreprince has in store for us. I have no doubt that we will be fighting for them, against the Imperium. I am willing to fight, the Imperium claims to be benevolent, but they lie, steal, and take from us. They force us into servitude and I will not go back to living on my knees. I will fight, and anyone who does not want to can take the end barge back to the city, back to servitude.” The eldest man stood, he remained silent for a few seconds as he pondered what to say, “Well, I’ve been alive longer than most, I know what cruelties the Mayor has in store for us, and what will happen if we return. I will stay and fight, it is the only choice, and fortunately it is the right choice.” Another man stood, “I will fight as well.” “But what of our families, they are still in the city, will not they be punished as well?” Svarne thought about this, “I will speak to the Goreprince about this.” “If we can help them, than I will also fight.” “And I” “And I” One by one all present swore to fight the Imperium, they would help Chaos in hopes of finding a better life, for everyone’s sake.
Ziinek sat in the command tent looking over the map of Arcadis Bay, quite the city it was. It’s location on the coast made it a central trading point on the moon, so it was no surprise that it harbored a couple million in habitants, still smaller than the other cities in the system, but formidable no doubt. The city layout had certain building placed into certain districts, the Housing district being the largest, but still extremely cramped, like the other districts. This pleased Ziinek, each shell would have that much more effect, that much more damage, and that much more gore. A scout appeared in the tent and bowed, “Prince Ziinek, there is a string of barges a mile out from camp, shall we destroy them?” “Ney, those are our new recruits.” “Of course your highness.” The scout gave another bow before leaving, Ziinek left the tent soon after. Instead of heading for the river bank he entered Gorebaron Fargun’s tent, “Gorebaron, we have guests, see to it that they are fed and have sufficient provisions, pitch some tents for them to sleep in. There is one among them named Svarne, tell him that he and two others must see me in the command tent when they are ready.” Fargun listened patiently, “It will be done.” “How are you faring Fargun? Is there anything I can do to help?” “I am well, but I’m quite hungry, I wish to help shell Arcadis Bay.” “Then so be it Gorebaron, you shall come with.” Fargun’s face lit up, “Thank you Ziinek, I’ll get to setting up the tents.”
The Goreprince had finished picking the flesh from his last axe as Svarne and two of his companions walked into the tent. Svarne began to kneel and motioned for his companions to do the same. Ziinek turned in his chair to face them, “I’m glad to see you here, it mustn't be easy abandoning your home, and family.” “I wish to speak to you about that, we have many family members and friends still in the city, if I can get them out, I can convince them to join our cause.” “And what do you know of our cause Svarne? You have been but minutes, let me tell you what you and your people are in for, then you tell me if you still want to bring the others into this.” Ziinek spent the next minutes explaining who the Gorespawn were, who Lord Khorne was, and what they were doing here. “You see Svarne, you will not merely be fighting the Imperium, you will be killing, slaughtering, culling, and sacrificing to Lord Khorne. This is not mere combat, you will have to tear people apart, you will bathe in their gore, you will kill without mercy. This is what you are in for Svarne.” Svarne took awhile to fully comprehend everything he had been told, the God he would worship, the atrocities he would commit… against the Imperium. Yes, the Imperium paled in comparison to what he had been told of Chaos, this was the right choice, it would be difficult, but they would assimilate. “Goreprince, I think I can speak for myself and for my people when I say that the Imperium will soon die, they are far weaker than the power you have told me of.” He looked back to his friends, they returned his look and nodded, “Then we will rend, rip, and tear in the name of Chaos, Lord Khorne, and the Gorespawn.” Ziinek gave a wicked grin and pulled out two axes, “Good, now you three will be initiated.” He put the axe blades on Svarnes shoulders, “I, Ziinek Goreprince, name you, Goreknight Svarne.” He pulled the blades back as they cut into Svarne’s flesh, he gritted his teeth but made not a noise. He repeated this process with his companions, and named them Gorepaladins. “Rise Goreknight, this is where your service starts,” He pointed to the map, “Tell me what you know and I will allow you to bring the rest of your people here, we will begin enlightening them to our ways.” “As you wish, my lord.”

Night had fallen on Arcadis Bay, the next Knight would not be so gentle.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/07/29 15:34:36


Post by: Palleus


“Tha’ Gork was he thinkin’…” mused Gort, in his typical foul mood.

“Shut yer’ zoggin mouth, Gort. Before I punch it shut for ya’.” Ace snapped in reply.

The battle for Thunda Castle was won, and most of the boys were out celebrating the victory, unknowing of the backdoor deal that almost took place. But Hannibal’s lieutenants knew. Together, the five of them talked among themselves as they watched over the body of their leader. The shrapnel that once filled his body now lay on the floor in a bloody heap.

Hannibal had not made a sound since he fell unconscious after giving the order to fire. Even when IronGore removed the shrapnel, Hannibal only offered minor winces of pain in response. Now, with nearly his whole body bandaged, he lay motionless on a bed, only shallow breathing revealing the life he still clung to.

“Refuzin an offa’ like ‘dat?” Spat Gort “We could’a wrecked ‘dose blue-skinned gits, an’ been hallway through wreckin’ tha’ whole planet by now!”

“Yer’ a squig-‘ead if ya really ‘fink tha’ blue-skins would’a been krumped so easy?” said Norrik, images of blue pulse fire scything though his spider rider’s ranks rose to his mind. “ ‘day ain’t no push ova’s. Ya won’ get more ‘den twenty paces from ‘em before ‘dey drop ya on tha’ ground wit’ a big hole in yer’ chest.”

“Least Warprida’ fights like a real ork. ‘Dose blue gits jus’ sit back an’ shoot. Wot kinda’ ork does ‘dat?”

“Me, ya’ git!” Answered Ace with a slap to the back of Gort’s head. “I’z do ‘dat. And dakka iz fightin’ like a proppa’ ork!”

“Well maybe dakka ain’t tha’ way we oughta’ be fightin’!”

“Well maybe I betta’ show you’z why dakka iz how we oughta’ be fightin!” Ace bellowed, lowering his giant gun as it charged with a pale green light.

“Enough out’a both of ya!” Came IronGore’s voice, as sharp and stern as a finely honed blade. “If tha’ boyz hear ‘dis, dey’ll know Hannibal ain’t awake. An’ if they know that…”

“Den iz only a matta’ a’ time before one’a ‘dem wants ta’ be tha’ new boss…” Guts said, finishing IronGore’s thought.

The nobs sat in silence for a moment, each of them thinking of what that meant.

“Bet I’d make a good boss…” Muttered Gort before he was subjected to another slap on the head. “WOT! I know you’z finkin’ it too!”

“An you ‘fink we’z got enough Mork in us ta’ lead tha’ Iron Horde now that Warprida’s wants ta’ krump us?” Ace shot back.

“He’s right, Hannibal’s always been tha’ ‘finker. He’s ‘da one ‘dats got tha’ plans. If he ain’t around, dere’s no way we’z survivin’ a battle against Warprida. He’s got tha’ tech, an’ tha’ know-how.” Agreed Guts.

“Yeah,” nodded Norrik, “but how we gunna’ keep tha’ boyz from knowin’ about tha’ boss ‘till he wakes?”

“Ya mean if he wakes.”

Gort was slapped again.

“Wot we needs,” began Ace, nursing his sore hand. “Iz some kinda mission ta’ get ‘da boyz ‘finkin about. We can stuff tha’ tech tha’ blue-skin’s gave us in ‘ere wit’ tha’ Boss, an’ tell ‘em he’s workin’ on some new projects.”

“Yeah but wot kinda’ mission?”

The room fell quiet as Guts’ question hung in the air, each nob searching for the answer.

“Tha’ comet.” IronGore’s said, breaking the silence. “We’z gunna’ hunt fer’ tha’ comet a’ iron.”


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/07/29 20:54:38


Post by: Kharne the Befriender


=====Luna Epsilon, Dreadmob===== (Continuation of Gargant Event: Hell Divers/Charcharodons View Point)
The air screamed and the sky darkened as the full might of the Hell Divers Air Cavalry and the Carcharodons air elements soared over the war waging below. The air became more and more polluted as the Skwadrons of Ork Jets came, numbering far greater than the Imperial forces. Colonel Taylor would enjoy bringing death to the enemies of the Emperor, even if victory was not a guarantee.

The Colonel opened up the vox line to the rest of his men, “Alright men listen up, we’ve Orks inbound and the Sharks need escort. I want efforts focussed on clearing a path to the gargant, only then can we focus on the mob itself. Good luck men, and good hunting.” The combined might of Astartes and Guard warplanes drilled a fierce hole into the black smoke of the Ork airfleet, lascannon shots cracked and bolter shots rang, barely audible over the screaming and screeching of engines. They were closing in fast on the target and things were looking good with minimal losses, a small price to pay for the Emperor. The Caestus Rams made their brutal entrance into the gargant marking that their escort job was done for now and the swarm of Vendetta’s, Vulture’s, and Lightning fighters turned their eyes to the rest of the Ork planes.

Taranis opened his vox channel to the other 29 Terminators he brought with him in the Assault Rams, “Brothers, this is the moment we show these feral scum why you do not tread upon the Emperor’s lands. We will show them the folly of their ways.” The light inside the Caestus lit up yellow, indicating they were preparing to breach. “We will exterminate these aliens with the cold fury of Imperial Justice, today they fall.” A massive crack was heard as the Rams opened up with their Magna Meltas, weakening the armor below the Gargants left arm. “Now Brothers! Et Laceraverunt Lacrimam!” The Gargants hull exploded inward as the Rams penetrated its hull with brutal force. The Carcharodons disembarked from their vehicles and instantly began killing everything in their wake. Their roaring and screaming drowning that of the Orks. The Titan Hammer had hit its mark.

Scrap metal rained from the sky in fireballs wreathed in smoke falling to the ground like comets in a meteor storm. The superior weapons of the Imperium made quick work of what enemies they fell upon, the Orks may have had the numbers, but the Imperium had them outgunned. This was reflected as yet another trio of misshapen planes made their way to the horde below, creating gaps that were soon filled with more green. Taylor gave a grim smile as he watched another plane be felled by red bolts of death, that smile soon faded as the Vulture next to his burst into flames and began to plummet, the crew’s screams echoed through the vox, reminding everyone that war was rarely glorious. From below the sky was a mural of blueish-green skies, the belching warplanes of the Orks, the machines of the Imperium, and the light of discharged munitions.

The inside of the Gargant was a flurry of green, grey, and red. The Ork Boyz stood no chance against the battle-tried and voidborn Carcharodons. Taranis gave a look over his forces, they were well off, but they needed direction. “Men! Rally on my position!” He shouted as he charged into middle of the fight and eviscerated a Nob with a righteous fury. “For the Emperor!” His cry was met with deafening roars, growls, and a renewed fight. They were making fair progress, until Mega-Nobs started pouring forth. One of the Terminators from Leiodon challenged the leading Nob, its hulking form charged forward, he began clawing at its armor, rending pieces of it off. The Nob reached out with his Klaw and grabbed his arm and pulled it from his body, the Astartes took a few steps back, looking at the area where his arm used to be, with his remaining hand he took his helmet off and looked the Nob in the eyes, he bellowed before charging at it with renewed fervor. He took bites out of the exposed flesh and kept tearing at the armor until another Nob came over and grabbed his legs, he was torn in half. Taranis watched him spend the last moments of his life de-legging the first Nob. Taranis would not let this be, he raised his arms to the sides, seemingly reaching for walls next to the Orks. His eyes emitting a dark glow, Taranis rent the walls with his mind, turning them into spikes and impaling the Mega-Nobs before they could enter the fight. Taranis and his men carved a bloody path to the Belly Gun of the Gargant, after several minutes of fighting and another two Terminators from Leiodon dead, they finally reached the gun.

Taylor took a good look of the skies around them, analyzing the situation. Air superiority had been achieved, but it had to be maintained as well. He grabbed the pilots vox, “Alright men, good hunting. I want a quarter of all remaining planes still operable to get started on those Ork walkers, I want them dead.” The mass of warbirds descending onto the enemy below was a grand seen. Beginning from one side of the horde and ending on the other swept a tide of missiles, explosives, and other weapons let loose on the towering figures that stood out from the mob below. Orange fire and black wind only added to the smog and pollution the Ork vehicles were already excreting, only worsening visibility. This allowed the Vendetta’s to make several runs with minimal damage, but not all were so lucky. Taylor peered over from the side of his craft and watched as a stray missile from the mob found its mark on a Lightnin’s engine, it entered an uncontrolled barrel-roll and struck a mega-dread, rending it to pieces. It was not long before Orks began randomly firing into the air hoping to strike something or anything.

Taranis dropped the last of the Orks guarding the massive gun, the area was clear for the time being. “Set your Melta Charges on the ammunition stockpiles and the gun breech, set the timers for ten minutes. “Charges set Captain. Charges armed. Charge timers set, we’re ready to go.” “Good, Carcharodons, we must go.” He switched vox channels, “Carcharius, this is Taranis, we need evac immediately.” “Yes, sir. Meet us where the Rams broke through.” Taranis wasted no time in moving out, making sure to pick up the bodies of the fallen as they went. The Orks were closing in on them fast, they had to hurry. The Carcharius was waiting for them at the opening, Taranis started giving orders for the wounded and dead to be put on first. Ork yells and shanties were heard from down the corridor, they were running out of time. The Seargant of squad Leiodon came to Taranis, “Captain, the Orks will be here before we can load and be on our way. My squad and I would like to stay behind, we will see our brothers again.” Taranis spoke to Leiodon as Obesus and Hemiodon finished boarding, “The Emperor protects brothers, you will be remembered, I will see to it.” Taranis stepped on to the Carcharius as it took off, he could see shrinking figures as they fought the Ork hoard that had returned, then he saw nothing as the mid section of the Gargant was engulfed in fire. He looked out over the Dreadmob to see that it marched on, bellowing smoke and pollution, its advance was noticeably slowed, the Hell Divers had done damage.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/08/02 20:51:02


Post by: Irishpeacockz


Garathal sat motionless almost in a trance like state as his mind scoured the vast black emptiness that was spread out before him, like a river any activity would send ripples throughout the black abyss and also like a river no activity meant the water ran smooth, not a trace. As Garathal was about to stand up ripples erupted somewhere in the deep and Garathal rushed to the epicentre where he saw nought but a hand handing over a crumpled piece of paper. Hours of searching and this was his reward ? What could it mean ? While he was contemplating his new found discovery the abyss returned to its calm status leaving Garathal alone. Standing up and turning his back on the shrine Garathal grabbed his staff, opened his door and proceeded into the Cathedral, his Cathedral with his seven in tow. Long benches carved for the masses were lined up throughout most of the Cathedral with a center aisle which ran down the center and to the front doors, a musty carpet was rolled down the aisle which featured many holes no doubt due to the many maggots that follow The Disciples of Decay wherever they go, occasionally one could hear and feel the squish under their boot as they crush the life from one such maggot bur another will take its place in due time. The carpet itself was once a bright luscious green belonging to a noble house on some backwater Imperial world but after the populace began to worship the Plague Lord the Disciples took it for their own, now however after surviving the long and harsh travels of the cult, dirt and grime have seeped into the fabric darkening its colour which suited Garathal just fine. Carvings of Daemons were lined the outer aisles, the humanoid Plaguebearers, the insectoid Battle and Rot flies, the slug like Beasts of Nurgle, packs of Nurglings and even a bloated Great Unclean One from which Nurgle himself takes form. The altar itself is a simple thing, large but simple, made of wood with Nurgle's mark carved into its face it served it purpose, the vast majority of the work was put into the stonework this altar was clearly a last minute addition. Behind the altar on the north facing wall lied a few lines of words scrawled in a sickly green liquid "Buboes, phlegm, blood and guts! Boils, bogeys, rot and pus! Blisters, fevers, weeping sores! From your wounds the fester pours."Garathal took a deep breath and let it all out with a toothless grin, he was finally home a place he could call his own, a place where true believers could come and live amongst those who believe as they do but of course one does not hold onto something unless they are willing to protect it and with that in mind Garathal began to think of a way to try and source some anti aircraft guns, as he mind raced through all the possible locations when the twin doors creaked open to reveal a lone figure, light cut through the shadows illuminating the dust particles within. “Prophet I have news from Nortannis” Garathal nodded towards his study “Follow me Mason let us discuss your findings inside”

Back inside his study Garathal sat back in his chair expectantly looking at Mason who upon closing the door behind him dug his hand into his pocket and produced a crumpled piece of paper, just like the one Garathal had seen but mere moments ago, Garathal snatched it from Mason’s hand and read it eagerly and aloud “Brothers of Crion, the Imperium of man is crumbling and we are the wrecking ball, join our might and fight for your homes ! Come to the Cordova Iron Pub bearing this piece of parchment, the real fight begins soon” Garathal brooded over this a moment “Interesting, very interesting” Mason coughed up “Did I serve you well ?” Garathal looked up from the letter “That remains to be seen, you will gather three others and go to this Pub and gather any information you can on these rebels, I see potential in them” Mason bowed to his master and turned for the door “Where do you think you're going ?” Mason froze and stuttered “I-I-I was going to gather the others” “Get back here, I sent you to scout out Nortannis not to gather me letters, speak” Mason turned back round “The city is aware of our presence and as such have placed the city under Quarrinetine trapping many of its inhabitants outside the city, many were angry and a hooded figure was handing out those letters” “So they were riling up the commoners, go on” “They have high walls behind which they grow food so besieging them isn't really an option, aside from the PDF I spotted an armored female warrior overlooking the enraged populace, thats all I have, its the best I could gather while being locked out of the city itself” Garathal spat “Sororitas, has to be” Garathal sat silently for a moment “Go gather the others and make your way to that pub, infiltrate their ranks if you can, become one of them and they’ll begin to trust ya and if they trust ya then there will be very little information out of your reach” Nodding Mason left to gather three people he thought might be up for the job, ones who could keep themselves under control.

The sun casted an orange glow over the horizon when Mason and his squad approached Cordova Iron Pub, it was a pit stop on the road a place for travelers to rest their heads or get a decent meal. Local Crion folk music could be heard from outside along with laughter and shouting all the signs of a merry time then why was Mason so nervous ? Mason revised his choices for his squad, Logan Reid, Strong build short dark brown hair with some stubble was a prisoner who joined the cult during of the many breakouts Garathal had staged to bolster his numbers, the prisoners either join or be left behind, most joined. Reid himself was a bit unstable but not as bad as some of the others as long as he has a bottle in his hand and he stays calm he should be fine, “just as well they are headed to a pub” thought Mason, “otherwise I wouldn't have brought him at all” His skin was still relatively human and clean so he shouldn't raise any suspicions. Varius Foy, slim build shoulder long red hair, clean shaven was found digging through corpses in a graveyard Garathal used to distract the Imperials, upon discovery he begged to join the Disciples one which Garathal agreed to. Foy doesn't talk much and keeps to himself although most of the cultists find him awkward to talk to, as long as he doesn't start talking to people about his obsession with the dead he should be fine. Clover Dukes the last member of the team, muscular build with a shaved head and a scar ran from her right ear to the corner of he mouth, a former rebel from a planet long brought back under compliance she joined when the Disciples fled the system and while she may turn a few heads for the wrong reasons she is damn good in a fight which hopefully is not what Mason needed but nothing wrong with being prepared. “Right people act normal, grab a beer and keep to yourselves I’ll handle any talking and track down these rebels, keep you weapons hidden not every farmer's boy carries pistols and shotguns” double checking that his weapons were loaded and that he had the parchment Mason and Co. entered the Cordova Iron Pub.

The layer of smoke was so thick that Mason’s eyes almost immediately began to water, quickly wiping his eyes they stolled towards the barman. Looking left and right Mason spied some men leaving their seats in a hurry and turned to the others “You three grab those seats, I’ll get the drinks” pushing his way through the crowded pub Mason found himself in front of a big burly balding man was a groomed moustache and tattoos halfway up his arm which were revealed via his ill fitting and greasy tank top, he eyed Mason as he approached the bar “What are ya having boy ?” Asked the man as he wiped a glass with a dirty cloth “Three ales and a water for meself please” the man scoffed “Water ? If you want bloody water go out and drink from the stream” the man disappeared and Mason took the opportunity to observe his surroundings. The pub was crowded making seeing anything difficult almost everyone puffed at a pipe of some description which didn't help the situation, the music that could be heard outside was now deafening and most people were seemingly having a good time, the man reappeared with four ales “20 quid” handing the man some money and not caring for the spare change Mason took the drinks and brought them over to the table, Logan grabbed his ale and slogged it down while Clover and Mason sipped theirs Varius didn't even look at his. Clover turned to her commander “How are you going to inquire about the rebels in here ?” Mason shrugged “We have to blend in, relax have a few ales and then we will harass the locals” by the time Mason turned back around Logan had finished his own ale and had begun slurping on Varius’ Mason chuckle pd “See Logan gets it” the four of them sat and talked for a while finishing their ales and eyeing potential people with information on the rebels “If i was a gambling woman my money would be on the barman, he overhears things on that bar and he sees everyone who comes in here, if there is one working for these rebels it's him” Clover decided “How about just to be sure you buy the next round” Both Mason and Logan left out a laugh while Varius cracked a fake smile in an attempt to fit in. Clover grunted before wandering towards the bar while Mason took the opportunity to find the toilets, Mason merely followed his nose to find out where they were as the pungent smell of urine had seemed to have seeped into the white tiles leaving a smell emit from the toilets into the main body of the pub. The toilets themselves housed three cubicles, two slender windows and a back door, as Mason washed his hand in the filthy sink he heard the back door open, looking in the mirror in front of him he saw troopers adorned in red storm in, turning and reaching for his hidden side arm Mason saw nought but the stock of a lasgun crack against his nose as the troopers moved into the rest of the pub, Mason collapsed and heard a loud bang from inside, a frontal breach. Whoever had lured Mason here had laid a fine trap one which he blundered into beautifully.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/08/04 09:57:13


Post by: Ezra Tyrius


The mind is a curious place.

Bright colours roared noiselessly through the endless sky, stars flickering between neon clouds drifting above an ever-changing vista of memories, hallucinations and nightmares. The Sorcerer stood knee-deep in the middle of an ocean the colour of midnight, its opaque surface twinkling with lights of every colours that danced and died amidst the darkness. Above him, bright streams of water, blood and other, more eldritch fluids crisscrossed with objects and places he remembered from the many years that had passed.

In the distance, he saw the great libraries of Tizca in flames, their forms burning but never yielding to the fire; closer, a ruined Titan lay slumped over its Warp-touched twin, lightning crackling over their ruined weapons and armour; closer still, bodies wearing the regalia of the Adeptus Astartes, Guardsmen, Xenos and other beings drifted motionless in the blackened sea.

The Sorcerer shivered. It was dangerous to enter one’s own mind. Some who wandered too far into their own consciousness were lost forever, their body slipping into an eternal coma as their mind became increasingly detached from reality. Others were driven into madness by the flood of contradicting sensations battering into them, rendering them twitching, mewling wrecks.

But the true reason visiting one’s own psyche was a hazardous undertaking was that one could find more than they had bargained for. Whether it was a vision of future damnation or torment, a trauma from the past that had never quite healed or a single look into the sheer horror behind existence, the end result was always the same.

A sound echoing between mountains of rubble and corpses caught the Sorcerer’s attention. It carried the hint of laughter, mad and deranged, with an undercurrent of violent screaming.

It was here. It was here, in his mind, in his head.

Hunting. Feasting.

The Sorcerer started running, trudging through the black water at his knees towards the source of the sound. Time was of the essence. The longer the daemon was inside his mind, the more of his sanity it could claim - and with it, whatever information it was after. A shiver ran down his spine as he pushed the other, more… uncomfortable alternatives out of his thoughts. He had seen more than once what the Warp-kin did to those who had become their plaything.

How he wished he could erase those memories.

As he walked, the landscape shifted, blurring the lines between reality and imagination even further. The ocean turned to glass, the faces of the dead etched into the surface, azure steam rising through the cracks that formed with each step he took. The temperature changed from scorching heat to cold as the void in a matter of seconds, the wind picked up, fell, roared with the power of hurricanes on storm-planets and then died again, noises, noises of all sorts droned in his ears as he struggled to maintain his grip on his own sanity. The daemon’s cackling urged him onwards, almost goading him, driving him deeper and deeper into the nightmare-scape of his own mind.

The laughter grew louder as the Sorcerer navigated a giant maze of ferrocrete and iron, its form vaguely reminiscent of a fortress-world visited in times long past. He couldn’t tell how long he had been running, only that his legs felt tired and bruised and his lungs struggled to draw in the stale, cold air. He felt the daemon’s presence pushing against the walls of his consciousness, the taint around him almost tangible.

He was close now. That was certain.

He turned around the corner, and suddenly, he stood in the centre of a dark, stone corridor. It was damp, slightly cold, and more importantly – silent. The laughter had gone, leaving nothing more than his own ragged breath echoing in the hallway. Confused, the Sorcerer slowly looked around, his Power Maul drawn and ready to strike, his eyes struggling to pierce the darkness around him as he searched for his opponent. As his eyes slid over the walls and ceiling, a strange sensation washed over him. There was something familiar about this place, but he couldn’t remember wh-

The sound of footsteps coming from the other end of the hall snapped him back to attention. He slid into a small recess in the wall, and waited.

Two figures approached, their armoured boots clattering on the stone floor in a hasty rhythm. From his hideout, the Sorcerer could vaguely make out their forms as they neared his position. The first was clad in bulky Terminator plate, whilst the second wore regular Power Armour. They were talking softly to one another, their accents betraying their superhuman nature. As they passed the recess in which the Sorcerer was hiding, he could faintly hear their whispers.

“-that this will work. And what of the others? We cannot simply leave them to-“

“They know what they must do. What we all must.”

“I will not just let them sacrifice themselves for me. Too much blood has been spilled on my behalf already. I will not-”

“You will, Acting-Captain. I’m afraid none of us has the liberty of choosing our fate. And yours is most crucial in the grand scheme of things.”


As soon as those words parted from the first figure’s lips, time seemed to slow to a crawl.

The Sorcerer heard his own two hearts beating heavily in his chest, his breath coming in ragged bursts. He felt the daemon’s presence again, stronger and more powerful than before. His eyes drifted to the other end of the corridor as the figures’ heavy footsteps thundered in his ears.

Two malevolent red eyes bled out of the darkness, pale fangs glistening softly as the daemon slid out of the shadows. It looked at him, grinning, and then stared at the Acting-Captain who was walking towards the other end of the hallway, oblivious of its presence.

But the other figure was not.

The bulky Terminator armour halted, and turned. The figure peered into the dark, and the Sorcerer held its gaze for a moment. The two Sorcerers, one a memory, one an astral projection, both one and the same individual in one and the same mind.

How curious, both thought.

The memory-Sorcerer nodded, and raised his hand. An invisible barrier formed between them, shielding the memory from any external intervention. Or at least, the Sorcerer hoped it would. As the memory-Sorcerer and Aurelius ran further into the hallway, the Sorcerer stepped into the hallways and turned towards the daemon.

The daemon snarled in frustration, its form shaking with barely restrained rage. Its mad eyes glared hungrily at him, its bare teeth revealing the bloody traces of memories consumed. Even though it had already learned much from the Sorcerer’s mind, the Thousand Son was now denying it its ultimate prize, and it would make him pay for that in blood.

As the beast leapt towards him, its claws reaching for the Sorcerer's face, he closed his eyes and whispered an incantation he had learned over ten thousand years ago on a planet he had once called home.

The world broke apart around him and all was light.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/08/05 10:32:55


Post by: chazz huggins


Commissar Jethro Alenko looked off into the darkness the hive’s streets. The flood lights of inquisition’s forward base rebelled against the corrupting abyss of the upper hive, however they barely managed to illuminate ten paces from the compound’s walls. From the darkness Alenko could hear all manner of noises, the distant crack of las and auto fire, the occasional explosion that illuminated the black oppression for seconds at a time, and the hideous howl of yet unidentified origins. Jethro took a deep breath, his rebreather filtering out dozens of harmful airborne particles. Since the Nurgle’s rot had taken nearly two hundred convicts rebreathers had become mandatory to wear at all times, the punishment for any man being caught without a mask was a three days in quarantine without food. Alenko stared deep into the abyssal streets and felt as if a knife had been twisted in his gut. Alenko swore he heard a silent whisper cry from the unknown: a horrid beckoning he would have no part of.

“Under the crimson fog of a winter dawn, a black regiment marched over Iron Bridge. I had not thought death had undone so many.”

The voice of Captain Amanda Kid caught the Commissar off guard. She wore a rebreather similar to Alenko’s only hers was silver to match her carapace armor. Alenko turned to Kid and recited.

“So come now sons and daughters of Mordia, let us strike one final blow against the void and rejoin our comrades forever more.”

Kid removed her mask and approached the commissar.

“I had not realized you were a coinsure of Mordian poetry.”

“It was always a bit macabre for my liking I much prefer the works of Faust.” Spoke Alenko

“Oh, would you care to share one with me?”

Alenko broke his gaze from the black shadowed streets and recited staring deep into the Captain’s eyes.
“I cannot rest from travel: I will drink Life to the lees: as all times I have enjoy'd Greatly, have suffer'd greatly, both with those That loved me, and alone, on shore, and when Thro' scudding drifts the rainy Armageddon Vext the dim upon the void.”

Kid took a step towards Alenko and removed the commissar’s rebreather lingering near him. Alenko continued breath unburdened.

“I am to become a name; For always roaming with a hungry heart. Much have I seen and known; cities of men and manners, climates, councils, governments, Myself not least, but honour'd of them all; And drunk delight of battle with my peers, Far on the ringing plains of Gallor Prime.”

Before the Commissar could speak another word Amanda pressed her lips on his.

3434 watched as 1597 exited the medical tent. It had been nearly two weeks since the failed attack where 1597 lost his leg. Where 1597’s leg was replaced by a crude metallic peg forcing the former Faustian to walk with a limp. 3434 laughed at his friend.
“What in thrones name is that, why didn’t they give you a regular servo leg?”

1597 grumbled. “Apparently, they don’t have anymore regular servo limbs, it seems the storms had first dibs on them. So I’m stuck with this in the mean time.”

34 laughed and pulled a flask filled with contraband from his pocket. 34 tossed the booze to 1597 who immediately took a swig.
Growling at the horrible drink 1597 spoke “thanks for cutting off my leg by the way.”

“Any time friend, any time.”

Jethro and Amanda laid on the small cot in the Commissar’s tent.

“Why didn’t we do this sooner?” asked Amanda

“I don’t know. I’ve thought about this, us for some time. The timing just never seemed right. I was going to say something at the Governor’s ball, but those pesky green skins had to barge in and start killing everyone.”

Amanda laughed “Put a bit of a damper on the mood.”

Amanda arose from the cot and began reattaching the pieces of her silver carapace armor. “You should get ready; Randall’s final war counsel will begin in half an hour.”

Alenko sat up in his bed and spoke “Right I’ll see you on the other side.”

Kid smiled and nodded as she fixed her last piece of armor and exited the Commissar’s tent.

Randall watched as Raven entered the war tent, Randall spoke
“Welcome Colonel, now that you are here we may begin. We have at long last a chance to strike at the heretics headquarter.”

Randall pointed to the hive’s citadel.

“Should we destroy this the rest of these cultist scum will fall to disorder. Our enemy knows this and has consolidated everything they have to defend the citadel. I suspect it will be a hard fought battle, but we stand to finally end this.” Randall began placing down tokens identifying the various units and began to speak. “We will surround our foe, and attack them from all sides. Colonel Raven you have the fastest force so you will flank from the south. Captain’s kid’s storm troopers will advance from the north, they will be our anvil. Commissar Alenko and warden Hoffman will split the penal legion and attack from the east and west. Paladin Utilitarius will lead a terminator deep strike force into the citadel and bring it down from within, using melta charges.”

Raven looked at the battle plan and then to Randall “It’s sound, but our last offensive was equally sound.”

“I think our enemy can only have so many tricks up their sleeve, but yes we must remain ever vigilant our enemy is unpredictable.” Randall arose “What we do here today will echo throughout the Imperium for generations to come, preform your duty for the Emperor.” Each of the soldiers returned the salute “For the Emperor.”

The citadel was the center of the Hive. From here the hive’s lord mayor would govern his uncountable charges looking down upon them from the spire’s balcony. The compound was built to withstand all manner of attack, lower hive uprising, mutant incursion, a coup from the PDF. The citadel lived up to its name. around the single large spire were several other small buildings. The cultists had taken to using them as armories and barracks. Surrounding the complex was a 20-foot-high wall, that completely encircled the mile perimeter of the compound.

Mordecai looked at the approaching inquisition with disgust. From the ramparts he saw his own forces taking positions both in and out of the fortress among the ranks of normal soldiers were the twisted chaos spawn eager for the fight to come. Mordecai looked to the cultists below him awaiting his order. Mordecai growled beneath his porcelain white mask. “Those imperial dogs seek to martyr themselves for their corpse god, I say we oblige them.” The men bellow shouted and jeered in approval. Mordecai looked up at the citadel spire, the inquisition will not interfere with the ritual.

Captain Amanda Kid advanced up the boulevard taking cover behind the Malcador tank the slowly paved the way. Kid kept her head low as the metallic pinking of steel and iron sent sparks and flashes. From Kid’s left a squad of cultists stormed firing their weapons on full auto. The storm troopers returned fire and eliminated the squad, but not before three of their own had fallen. One of the Malcador operators opened the turret hatch and began the heavy stubber allowing the storm troopers to fan out into the ruined buildings for cover.

The underbelly of the citadel.

Five Grey Knights materialize in the flash of an eye. Paladin Utilitarius’s heads up display installed in his helmet read the area was clear. Utilitarius looked to his men, no words were needed they knew their jobs. They split up and headed for their assignments each with a melta bomb in tow.

Commissar Alenko fired his bolt pistol at the oncoming cultists, these ones were a particularly sickly lot pallid flesh and grotesque boils. These were the ones responsible for the out break that took so many convict lives, and the prisoners were eager for a bit of retribution. The penal legionaries advanced aggressively any cultists that had the misfortune of getting too close was met with exceptional brutality. The defenders were so preoccupied with the storm troopers on the north and the wyrms men to the south they had neglected the eastern and western walls almost completely. The penal legionaries were but feet away from the citadel’s walls. Randall saw his opening, the Commissar shouted “Hooks”. The order bounced six times from the arbitrator section commanders, and the penal legionnaires produced their grappling hooks.

3434 swung the hook at his side before sending it flying towards the citadel’s walls. 34 shouted “Hook secure!” as the iron snare latched to the citadel’s wall.” 8516 was the first to begin climbing the rope, he made it about half way up the wall when a cultist at the top of the wall gunned him down. 8516 fell taking with him 3391. 34 dodged the falling convicts and fired his las pistol at the defending cultist. 34 looked to his left and watched as a cultist cut the climbers rope with a hatchet. It was none other than Commissar Alenko who put a bolt in the hatchet wielders chest. At last they had finally reached the top of the walls 34 drew his pistol and short blade as the first of the cultist ran to meet the penal legionnaires.

The fighting on the west ramparts was brutal. 1597 slashed the throat of an oncoming cultist with his curved blade as 3434 kicked another off of the wall. This fight was clearly going in the penal legionaries’ favor, and soon enough the cultists began fleeing into the spire. 7386 an ox of a man hoisted the last cultist over his head and threw him from the wall, the cultist screamed for a few seconds before breaking every bone he had against the harsh hive floor.

Alenko watched as the penal legionnaires celebrated their victory over the cultists, Alenko couldn’t help but grin as he shouted “Alright boys, lets show the rest of these poor bastards what real fighters look like.” An eager roar was let out as the commissar drew his saber and headed for the northern gate with his criminal chargers.

The citadel’s underbelly was a loathsome place, dark, damp and decrypt. From here Utilitarius could hear the muffled fighting between the inquisition forces and the heretics. The occasional explosion would cause dust to fall from the celling. Paladin Utilitarius had encountered three cultists hurrying to get something from the cellar, the Paladin had cut them down before they could learn of his presence. The paladin approached where he would place the charge and set the explosive. Utilitarius opened a psychic channel with his squad and informed them his charges were set, battle brothers Beshka, Fellran, Kellgan responded affirming their task’s completion. Brother Jyorus however made no such check in. Utilitarius attempted to psychically hail the knight but was given no response.

Utilitarius ordered his men to meet him where Jyorus was supposed to place his bomb. Utilitarius was the first to arrive, finding Jyorus dead in a pool of blood.

Fellran approached “That wound was caused by no human forged blade.”
Beshka growled “By Titan I swear vengeance for brother Jyorus. We must find the creature that did this.”

“You already have Grey Knight.”

Inquisitor Garrett Randall removed his sword from the heart of a massive chaos spawn, toppling backwards. High above the battle field was a flicker of light, emanating from the top of the spire. Soon the flicker became a beam of light that reached the celling of the hive. It drew every eye for miles. Randall felt a sharp pain in his head and his nose began to bleed. The grey knights accompanying him shared the psychic phenomenon. Captain Athenar spoke with shock “By the emperor.” Randall regained his focus and shouted “It’s a summoning, we have to get up there now.” Athenar attempted to caste a warp gate to propel himself to the ritual point, but there was some manner of psychic ward preventing him.

Randall opened his com bead, “Utilitarius, we need that spire down now.” Randall repeated “Paladin do you copy, what is your status.” Again static, Randall attempted to contact the paladin psychically but could not get a trace on him.

Utilitarius turned to face the voice, his brothers did not react. Utilitarius gripped his nemesis force sword with both hands. Across from him was a foul red creature armed with a blade of stygian ivory. The beast was a foot taller than the eight-foot paladin, its flesh an ever shifting gradient of black and red, its horns sharp, teeth, and claws razor sharp. Utilitarius moved passed his frozen brothers and cursed at the demon.

“Utilitari ati vak Draigo”

The demon laughed

“You think you can banish me with some words as if I were one of Slaanesh’s cheap harlots or Tzeentch’s sniveling peons.”

Utilitarius growled and charged for the crimson beast the demon grinned

“So it begins.”

Randall cursed “Utilitarius isn’t responding” Randall looked at the bright beam and focused on it so that he might detect its magics. After a few moments of focus Randall called over to Athenar, “We can’t teleport to it, but perhaps together we could teleport a small squad through.” Athenar nodded in agreement, “Those wards are meant to keep out psykers, we could send some non psykers through.” Commissar Alenko stepped forward “Me and my men will go.” Randall nodded “Get your men no more then five.” Alenko gathered five of his best men, Arbitrator Halouck, 3434, 4716, 7386, and 5219. They stood perfectly still waiting for Athenar and Randall to channel the psychic power. Through the combined effort of the two master psykers the six men vanished in a flash of Sanctic light.

Paladin Utilitarius swung his nemesis force sword at the khornate creature. The two blades of corruption and purity made heavy blows at one and other. Utilitarius found his opening after nearly a minute of exchanging blocks with the demon. However, when the blade struck the demon’s hide, it became apparent the beast was not actually there. Utilitarius’s blade phased through the demon, as if there were nothing there. The demon laughed as he returned to being soldi and locking blades with Utilitarius.

“You almost had me. It has been some time since I’ve killed something almost worthy.”

Utilitarius growled and shot a bolt of lighting from his hand at the demon. The creature absorbed the psychic attack with his blade and redirected it at Utilitarius. Utilitarius in turn weathered the blow against his adamantium hull, his ward of endurance ensured he felt no pain from it.

Top of the spire

Mordecai watched with pleasure as the psykers conducted the ritual. Eight psykers stationed at the points of the chaos star painted in blood atop the spire roof. At the center of star was a pyre with a hundred and eighty-four skulls of one hundred and eighty-four flayed men. Seven of the Psykers chanted in demonic tongues while a single orator sang above the others. “Ave Arachus prince of darkness, rise anew so that you may re-forge this world in glorious iron. Show us the path oh grand demon, scion of Khorne. Slayer of Skies, ARISE ARISE.” From the center of the pyre of skulls arose a blood red hand griping a massive thunder hammer. Mordecai smiled underneath his mask as the prince of chaos slowly began to force its way into the world.

Mordecai’s smile turned to a fierce rage as flash of blinding light heralded the arrival of six inquisitorial meddlers. Mordecai shouted “Complete the ritual! Guards!”

Alenko fired three bolts into the torsos of two guards. 3434 drew his lucky shiv and danced around las rifle armed cultist before slicing his throat. Arbitrator Halouck drew his stun baton and began dueling a chain sword armed pdf traitor. 4716 leveled his las rifle at one of the ritual cultists but was gunned down by Mordecai’s broom stock auto pistol. 7386 the ox man charged for Mordecai, with his chain sword. Mordecai drew his sword and shield easily blocking the convicts hardy blow. Mordecai lifted his shield and struck at 7386’s legs sending the man to the ground, allowing the Lazarus’s shield bearer to finish off the ox like soldier. Alenko removed his saber from another cultist guard as he saw Mordecai.

Mordecai locked eyes with the Commissar and flourished his blade and raised his shield that bore the sigil of the flayed legion.

Alenko fired the remaining two bolts he had in his pistol at Mordecai, but the champion of chaos withstood the bolts thanks to his shield. Mordecai swung first Alenko narrowly dodged the long sword. Mordecai swung for the second time Alenko parried the blow but was driven back by its force. Alenko felt himself growing weary, while Mordecai was still fresh and hardened by rage. Mordecai swung his blade at a 45-degree angle, Alenko thought this would be the end for sure, but a memory came to him. Sheppard.

Alenko flipped his saber so the back faced Mordecai and the Blade rested in Alenko’s left palm. Mordecai struck the saber and followed the blade’s curve to the left. This left Mordecai’s face exposed to a bash from the hilt of Alenko’s saber. With all his strength Alenko bashed the side of Mordecai’s face with the Aquila headed pommel. Particles of the champion’s porcelain mask went flying everywhere and the masked cracked all across its face. Mordecai was stunned by the blow and Alenko did not hesitate to press his advantage. The Commissar pivoted to mordecai’s undefended right and ran him through with his saber. Mordecai fell to the floor gripping his side. Alenko towered over him and raised his boot. Mordecai laughed gurgling blood, “I will be with you soon, four fathers. I pray I served you well.” Alenko brought his boot down shattering both Mordecai’s mask and his face.

3434, arbitrator Halouck, and 5219 killed the last of cultist guards. They drew their pistols and began firing at the ritual psykers. Soon enough they all laid dead. And the hand that was slowly rising from the pyre of skulls began to sink back to the hell it came from.

Alenko looked over to his men they were all weary, 3434 laughed “You know, this reminds me of the time…” an explosion cut 34 off, as the building began to shake.

Earlier

Utilitarius locked blades with the demon as the beast snarled “You tire mortal, I do not. Give up now so you may die with some comfort.” Utilitarius roared stepping back from the demon unleashing the full strength of his wrist mounted storm bolter on his foe. The bolts had no effect on the demon but Utilitarius noticed something, one of the bolts damaged the creature’s bone sword that was its source of power. Utilitarius casted Iron arm and made a mighty vertical swing at the demon. The demon struggled to match the Grey Knight’s strength. The force of the Utilitarius and the burning fury of his spirt channeled through the force sword soon became too much for the demon’s blade to handle as it snapped and disintegrated into black ash. The demon snarled “Impossible!” Utilitarius threw the demon to the ground and seized the beasts by its massive horns and began to pry at it. The demon screamed in pain as Utilitarius planted his foot on its spine and with a mighty yank removed the beasts head.

Time was restored around Utilitarius and his three remaining battle brothers saw him finish the beast.

Kellgan bowed “A mighty kill Paladin.” Utilitarius merely nodded and spoke “Brother Jyorus has been avenged. May he never be forgotten.” The knights pounded their breast plates in solidarity. Beshka set the melta charges and began speaking “Charges set brother.” Without another word the grey knights activated their suits’ teleporters and the five of them were gone.

Alenko and the rest of the surviving cons ran toward the spire exits. A pillar crumbled in front of Alenko nearly crushing him. The party climbed over the large pillar to find the rest of the room engulfed in flames. They braved the fire and charged ever closer to the exit. Debris fell from above while smoke arose from bellow. Alenko had nearly lost his way before he saw the great doors of the citadel. Making a final mad dash the Commissar, Arbitrator, and two prisoners made it out of the building just as the final explosions ran out and the once mighty citadel crumbled down and into the lower hive.

Alenko arose to see the entirety of Randall’s and colonel Raven’s forces. As Hallouck, 34, and 5292 arose a slow applause began, and it eventually consumed everyone. Jethro sore and exhausted limped towards Randall. The Commissar began bandaging the slice in his hand where he had deflected Mordecai’s blow. Alenko looked to his left and saw Captain Kid, she had a smile but was not clapping, Alenko could never read her. Randall spoke “You did it.” Alenko laughed “All in a days work for the Inquisition.” Alenko turned to see a hole in the dome where the citadel once stood. The explosion tore a hole in the hive’s celling. Alenko for the first time in months got to see the true blue sky, and it looked like a lovely day.

Spoiler:
Spent a lot of time on this one. and made a lot of references. The poems at the beginning were T.S Eliot's the Wasteland and Alfred Lord Tennyson's Ulysses I just modified them so they fit into 40k. Also we had a small cameo from 2BJ demon prince from the first COF. Killed off Mordecai and finally wrapped up Cogger Hive. If you still have stuff you wanna/ gotta write for Cogger you can say it happened before this.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/08/09 18:53:57


Post by: Drakka77


//Hive Cogger// 487th Panther Regiment HQ

Lt. Hogan runs up to Col. Raven and salutes. He is sweating bullets as he reports the disaster that is the siege. " Sir, We have loss most of 2nd Battalions 3rd Company sir. Lizard men seemed to be allied to the traitors and providing them a break in the siege. And worse sir, The counter attack failed. They are present in massive numbers and are currently fortifying. Captain Jensen and his entire command staff were lost in the attack as well as their entire motorpool. Only Corporal McKee and his squad who were at Battalion HQ for retrofit are left of 3rd Company." Colonel Raven grunted as he chewed on his cigar. This cruddy assignment to help and inquisitor is turning worse and worse. Failure is not an option but he didn't have the numbers to do what was needed. He looked back at his map table as he tried to decided his next move as yet another runner came and interrupted his planning time. " Sir, We have reinforcements from the Air Calvary Regiment that was here, sir. " Colonel Raven's eyes lit up at this news. " Bring their commander here, ASAP. " He then dismissed everyone as he tried again to get a handle on the war front of Hive Cogger. He was just spread to thin. The reinforcements will be a good boost but if latest intelligence is right they are gonna lose the Hive just by weight of numbers the other side has. Colonel Raven then shook his head. "Recall all units. The siege is over. Inquisitor Randall is going to use us as a fast attack force on a push against one of the HQ. We just don't have the numbers to continue the Seige. "

Several Hours later
Colonel Raven mounted on his own Wyrm and then turned to the column of men and women waiting for orders. " Wyrm Guard. Panther Calvary. Men and Women. We are charging into the thick of Cogger as part of a prong attack. This shall cripple the Choas threat. Once we complete this assault we shall work on freeing the rest of this system. " He chews on his cigar for a minute. " This is your moment to prove that we are more than a hammer we are the saviors of Cogger and the will of the Emperor is for us to bring this vile Hive into compliance and free them from corruption. Keep your heads full of the Emperor's light and dash it upon our enemy. Forward and unto Victory." With a wave of his arm, His wyrm lifted off. Behind him his entire regiment drove, rode or flew as they will into the heart of the hive. Using their sheer numbers to do what tactics was failing at. Wyrm riders were providing air and flank support as bikers and buggies cut a swath through enemy lines allowing the Chimeras and Tauroxes to charge straight into the center lines causing devastating damage unto the Choas enemies arrayed against him. The Inquisition's plan seems to be working. This may be the end of one theater of war but their job was far from done.

Spoiler:
Sorry for such a late post. I had to break this up. Bloodmoon Hunter Chapter intro will be another post later.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/08/09 20:22:52


Post by: Sgt_Smudge


New Pavus stood strong on the Crionian horizon, the orange sun setting behind the city. Whilst it didn't pierce the sky like Hive Torcan did beside it, New Pavus was a formidable bulwark against the Tillers advance.

The Tillers' tents sat just out of range of the exterior guns, shrouded by torch-smoke and the growing darkness. On the battlements of the South Gate, sentry teams of local militia and requisitioned Blood Fort troopers kept steady watch over the assembly point. They could only watch on as the Tillers watched back, flitting between tents and preparing their weapons for the eventual battle. Their magnoculars would never pick up the activity in the command tent.

Captain Nassau spoke to the hooded man who he shared the command tent with. They perused over the hand-drawn map of the city, over it's various chokepoints, vantage points and kill points. Even for a force twice the size of the Tillers' host, it would be a struggle through the gates. The cramped confines of the South Gate would be easier with short ranged weaponry to bring to bear, but the battle would be at the gates. Nassau nervously directed the man's attention to the gate.

"It means nothing if we can't breach the South Gate. Major O'Connell has given us all the help he can, but if we can't get through, he's stuck in the city. Do you have a plan?"

The man shrugged. "It won't be easy. I can get a few men close enough in the darkness to plant charges on the weak points. The sentries will fall before they can reach the emergency point defense guns, and that leaves the Court of Honours open for the takeing. You can set up a beachhead there, and push through to the Highknight Wall."

"And where will you be, friend?" Nassau couldn't help the worry creeping into his voice. "My men can't take this alone."

"We strike from the sun, Captain."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

The three Stealth Suits hovered just over the boggy marshland that surrounded the South Gate of New Pavus. Their stealth field generators paired with the cloying night sky rendered them invisible to the sensors of thee New Pavus PDF, as well as the scouts of the Tillers' own army. No-one saw the Stealth Team, save for the eyes in the trees.

Gue'vesa'El Vandred watched the vanguard team advance, and raised to his feet. His Pathfinders squatted behind him, their pulse carbines ready around their waists. Four sniper drones hovered alongside them. He had hoped for some Hammerhead Gunships to break the siege easier, but it would have been impossible to hide the tanks in the dense forest. And it was essential that the Tau kept their involvement obscured: their deal of peace with the Imperium had to be maintained until the Cadre could mobilise again. But Vandred would not forsake his alliance with Nassau.

The Captain's aid in taking AHC-02 had been invaluable, and the Sub-Commander would be damned before he gave up on that. He'd been met with opposition in the cadre, and even the Shas'O had his doubts, but the old Tau relented. He knew as well as Vandred the value of a faithful ally. After all, it had been just such an ally that had saved a younger Skyhunter from losing more than just his legs. Vandred remembered it well.

From his HUD, Vandred could see everything the Stealth Suits could. They had already reached the gate, and we clamping fusion bombs to it. Vandred knew it would be more than enough to shear through the hinges - but there was nothing quite wrong with making sure. What would be a challenge would be keeping the PDF pinned down enough to give the main Tiller army their window. As far as the PDF sentries could tell, the Tillers were still in their tents. Instead, the only thing they could see were cutout silhouettes of resting troopers, old army uniforms stuffed with straw to simulate sentries, and a few handful of Tillers moving between tents. The rest of their forces were hidden in tunnelled-out pits covered in camo nets, closer to the walls. Nassau would be there, alongside his men who toted "experimental" lasguns. In truth, only Nassau and Vandred knew they were lasguns modified with Tau pulse munitions, which were easily capable of punching through even Scion battle plate. Not even the Tillers would know of the Tau's involvement.

The stealth suit Shas'ui gave Vandred a moment's notice, and ignited the fusion bombs
With four great explosions, the South Gate burst open, illuminating the bogs outside New Pavus with a bang. It was as if a sun had exploded over Crion. It was glorious.
The stunned PDF troopers leapt upon their defence guns, watching for an oncoming attack from the front. Pinpoint sniper rounds, guided by Pathfinder markerlights, took out the sentries with silenced thwits. Their corpses slumped over the guns. Blood Fort troopers sprang to the fray, unslinging their own weapons and heaving the PDF bodies off of the guns. More sniper fire downed the trooper amidst the chaos, and the ones with more sense took cover. Their frantic bleating over the vox system would be scrambling reinforcements in minutes.
It was then that Nassau gave the attack order. Tillers streamed into the breach, and blue gunfire flashed down the streets.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Tillers' offensive had gone stunningly. The hastily assembled PDF stood no chance in front of the Tillers' guns, and the beachhead was pumping ammunition and supplies up and down the battleline. Nassau himself was leading the push all the way up to Highknight Wall, straight into the Blood Fort garrison.

Vandred and his Pathfinders had since slipped into the fray, avoiding the eyes of Imperial soldiers and moving through empty alleys and buildings. Where the Pathfinders went, the defenders fell. Pulse rounds found their mark through the barricades and nailing key figures in the defensive line, thanks to the markerlight systems working in tandem with the automated aiming systems in the modified lasguns. The jubilant Tillers push further, slaughtering the defending forces.

As the battle tipped in the Tillers' favour, their own reinforcements emerged from pubs and buildings - hidden Tiller soldiers in the city joined the fray, charging in with kitchen knives and flintlock rifles. Major O'Connell led a charge of his own elite ranks, supporting Nassau's exhausted speartip. The Southern Quarter of New Pavus was being overrun, with the grey corpses of PDF and the black and tan ones of the Blood Fort soldiers marking the wave of Tiller revolution, like debris in the wake of a tsunami. At last, the point of the Tiller assault was blunted on the walls of Highknight Wall. Under fire from Scion and PDF forces, the fleeing New Pavus PDF retreated behind the thick quarter wall, dragging their dead and wounded with them. Less than one in ten of the PDF had fled the slaughter.
The Blood Fort garrison were made of sterner stuff.

The black and tan Guardsmen were cut off where they had defended so tenaciously, their survival dooming them. Behind their barricades of masonry, furniture and bodies, the Blood Fort troopers fired volley after volley into the charging Tiller ranks. Vandred pulled a pair of flash grenades from his pouch, and hurled them into the Blood Fort lines. Two flashes later, and the Blood Fort troopers were reeling, firing blindly over the barricade until their guns clicked dry. When their eyes opened again, Tillers were stood over the barricade walls. Lasgun barrels met their stinging eyes.

Vandred turned his hooded head from the slaughter.

Spoiler:
Not overly pleased with this the write-up of this one, but the roll was very successful to assist the Tillers in getting into New Pavus and taking the Southern Gate. My Tau are undetected as of yet, so I can't complain.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/08/10 07:20:45


Post by: Buttery Commissar


[Intro: Emperor's Children]

Captain Choret breathed, and listened to the sound in the dark. Each breath must be the same length as the last, the same distance apart. Same depth, and with the same purpose. They must be, or it would be wrong.
So focused he had become on the rhythm, that he did not initially notice the pinpoint of light forming in the blackness nearby.
Until he did, and he watched, pleased that the small surprise had not broken his pacing.

Child, you have called me. It is not yet time. The voice was fluting, but like a silk banner hiding a blade, it was given form, edge.
"We grow restless." Choret hummed, his own voice lilting back, no reverberations afforded in the chamber.
You seek glory.
"We seek purpose. Idleness serves nothing. Weakens us." he hissed back softly.
Then I shall give you purpose. Entertainment. Be aware of your surroundings, and I shall provide.
The light winked out, not even an after image to indicate it had ever been.
Choret inhaled, and allowed a small smile as he counted, he had not lost the rhythm.

*

Stepping from the chamber, he padded on bare feet back down the metal length of the corridor. The floor was cold, but he could feel the purr of the engines perfectly. Cutting off that sense by covering his extremities vexed the Astartes deeply. He hated having to wear full armor. At the moment he wore only his thin silk robes and insignia, moving like a cat through the vessel. Many of his brothers did similarly apart from Levvet. He allowed himself a small smile. Levvet was odd even amongst his brothers. The child of the Emperor had been struck in the face by a Xenos blade during the great crusade. Even before the chapter's fall, it had bothered him. Now, well...

Choret paused in his stride, his timing thrown into disarray. He furrowed his brow, and headed toward the loading bay of the ship. Something was wrong.

*

A small group of Emperor's Children stood in full power armour in the loading bay. And unusual sight in a time of peaceful travel.
Beside them was a small Xenos shuttle, Choret fancied it to be Tau in origin from the design, but that was not what held their attention.
Stood like hounds around a weakened animal, they waited for their master, circled around a fallen figure.
"Captain." without raising his head, Innovus greeted him. Choret knew from his voice alone.
"What is this, Brother?" he slowed his pace, savouring the curiosity. After nearly ten thousand years in and out of the warp, being remotely surprised was exhilarating for the captain.
"Xenos scout. Fleeing we think. Like a scared mouse. Or perhaps seeking the rest of its fleet." Levvet responded this time, "We dragged it from the shuttle before it could self detonate, but now it is useless."
"We shall see," Choret's eyes slowly searched the scene for more information, determined not to bore his brothers with tedious inquiry, "you can determine the origin?"
"Already done. A planet named Crion. A point of contention lately, if vox traffic is to be believed."
"Then we have found our next performance, brothers?" the captain smiled.
"It seems so." Innovus laughed, the sound deeply reverberating in his armor.

"And what are you?" crouching low, Choret gazed at the small huddled blue skinned xeno, and with one smooth motion, lifted its chin with an open hand, so that he could both look upon its frightened face, and feel its frantic butterfly pulse against his palm. He tilted his own head and listened with his skin to the panicked, irregular beating, "No, no. This is wrong," his hand tensed, causing the creature's eyes to widen in further panic and the heartbeat to stutter considerably, "such lack of coordination." Gently lowering his hand, he released the tau, allowing it a shuddering gasp for air, having dare not breathed while the marine held it in place.
Choret's face twitched slightly, "Take her to my workroom. I will see if this can't be improved upon. Do not damage her any further." his eyes narrowed at the human guards who nervously stepped forward to lift his new instrument from her crumpled place on the floor.

*

The young tau awoke, free of pain, but restrained against a gurney, and garbed in a clean simple robe, "What have you done, monster?" she flinched from the bright lights of the ceiling, straining to focus her eyes.
Choret at her bedside rolled his head from one side to the other, enjoying the sound of a foreign tongue gripping the words of Low Gothic. He smiled, "I improved you. You had a small, what do they call it? A heart murmur. Every third or fourth beat, a flutter," he pointed to her chest beneath the gown and sheet, but did not touch her, "I fitted a small electrical device which," he inclined his head to the side and back, twice, "keeps it in rhythm. You should find you have more energy now. Less anxiety, too."
The tau watched him silently, and felt her heart beating strongly in her chest. He was right, she felt calmer, and her extremities, warmer. But, "Why?" she asked quietly.

The marine smiled, "You wouldn't understand." he reached over, the smile unfaltering, and put his large hand to her thin jawline again. This time effortlessly clamping it around her throat in a vice like grip, sealing her airway entirely.
As she struggled against the restraints, unable to gasp or cry out, her heartbeat became a crescendo, hammering against Choret's warm palm. He closed his eyes, listening only to the pulse, and continued to smile. The timing was perfect, even if the performance was itself, short.

"Captain Choret?" a young voice from the open doorway brought Choret's private performance to an abrupt halt.
He released his grip on the tau, seconds before the final beat would have played. Slowly pivoting to view the door, he frowned, his temper in check, "This had better be for good reason."
"Your attention is needed, sir. We are within range of the planet Crion shortly." the officer remained stock still, a learned response for many of the humans aboard the vessel.
The Astartes captain straightened up, and strolled leisurely toward the door, "Thank you, I shall head to my brothers now. Clear this up for me, please... Peffken, is it?"
"Yes sir," Peffken closed his eyes, and held back the shiver at Choret being aware of his existence, "do you wish to keep the prisoner, sir?"
"Hm? No, we're done here. Set her loose, dispose of her, eat her, I don't greatly care," Choret waved a hand dismissively, "but Peffken?"
"Sir?"
"Interrupt my entertainment again, and we shall become very closely acquainted." the accompanying smile was enough to bring ice sweat to the back of Peffken's neck.

The young officer waited for Choret to clear the corner of the corridor before he exhaled and slid down the wall slightly. Looking around, the work room was meticulously clean. Instruments and surfaces scrubbed and sanitised, and all waste cleared away. Only the scent of disinfectant and faint tinny perspiration gave clue to there having been any medical procedure that day.

He slowly stepped over to the gurney, where the prisoner appeared to be unconscious, her breathing ragged. He had no particular feeling toward the young tau. It was his first time seeing a xeno up close, and he had at first expected to feel frightened, or exhilarated. But living aboard a vessel with the Emperor's Children. had long since shifted the boundaries for those particular emotions. Instead he just felt ever so slightly slightly curious and unsurprised.

"Looks quite like us," Peffken mused aloud as he kicked the brakes off the gurney wheels, "just less of her." Pausing to place the tau's neat bundle of clothing lightly on her stomach, he began to push the medical trolley along. After a short while, deciding to drop off the prisoner at the loading bay. There she would be considered as cargo, and either dumped or traded off at the ship's next calling point. In some ways he envied her, getting to leave. Seeing the vivid bruising forming around her throat, and still unconscious state, he realised quite how stupid that jealousy was.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/08/10 08:24:26


Post by: Gore Grandpa


+++Gore Spawn Campsite, The Black Sand, North of Mount Gorgon, Luna Epsilon+++
Ziinek, the Gorebarons Fargun and Beltrok, and Svarne stood about a shoddily made wood table with a crudely made map atop it. “You see my Lord, the Guards of this city are corrupt, for but a few thrones spent here and there, I can easily double the amount of barges we currently have, and bring in more of our people.” Fargun asked, “More Cultists is always pleasing, but what use have we of barges?” “I’ve noticed a lack of vehicles here with the ability to travel over water, it may be useful for moving your men over the water to Arcadis.” Beltrok’s face lit up, “I’ve an idea, whats you say that we load the artillery on the barges and float em out on the water, from there we just shell the poor fools from outside the port.” Ziinek shook his head approvingly, “Beltrok, as crude as you may be, you surely know how to carry out our Lord’s work. Khorne bless you Baron. So… Svarne, exactly how much can your barges hold?” Svarne thought to himself, “Well, how much do your tank's weight?” Ziinek stopped and looked to his Barons, each of which looked confused and disappointed in their lack of knowledge. “Hmmm…. Let’s say 75 tons to be safe.” “Okay then…” He did the math in his head as best he could, “Let’s say about four, this will allow us extra weight for people, munitions, and whatever else we may bring.” Ziinek smiled, “How long for you to acquire another few barges?” “Twelve hours tops.” “Then you better get to it if we are to shell by tomorrow night.”

+++Arcadis Bay+++
Svarne and approximately twenty of his followers waited on the lone barge, waiting for Arcadis Bay. Some eager to cause any sort of damage or show of ill-will to the Imperium, while others paced anxiously unknowing of what would happen when they reached the gate. It was an hour later that someone shouted “Land Ho! Arcadis on the horizon!” Svarne stood and peered over the waters, the sun just beginning to reveal its myriad of colors across swells and ripples, land could be seen, and there was Arcadis Bay, glowing like a beacon of false hope to the damned souls of the Imperial Sheeple. Suddenly he was struck with an idea and felt prophetic, he hopped and climbed up a stack of crate and beckoned everyone over. “Men, as you all know, we are about to steal from the Imperium, we are about to lie and bribe our way to victory. We are in a rough spot, we will have to be cunning to pull this off, I do not know if we will be returning to the Black Sands, but we must try regardless. Our first challenge will be the port gates and the Guards.”
----------
The barge slowly crept and creaked its way up the small man-made canal towards the gate that entered the city. About half way there the Guards looked up from there drinks and cards, they shuffled into their positions. “Oi, so what brings you in this time of day?” Svarne handed the man his papers, “Just returning from a long and arduous few days.” “This paper says you are supposed to have five barges and more people than I see.” “Well, I’m sure you would understand that the water out there can get rought, there was a storm,” He handed him a small pouch filled with coin, “and you all look like you could use a drink.” The Guard weighed the pouch in his hand, listening to the clinking noise it made, he smirked back at his compatriots, “I think we could,” He stamped the papers, “Welcome back to Arcadis.”

“Our next challenge will be to acquire another string of barges and supplies, half of you will accompany me on this, the other half will talk to our trusted ones and bring as many of them back here as possible, and any supplies you may find.”
----------
Svarne waited for half his men to disembark from the barge and begin their trip to the residential district before he himself disembarked. He spotted the dock master and went to him first, “Loreg, it is good to see you again.” “Svarne, what a welcomed surprise!” His face became somewhat worried when he spotted the sole barge behind them. “What happened? Where is my brother?” “Relax, relax, he is fine. Look, “ He peered about making sure none were in earshot, “I can’t fully explain what is going on, but I need a favor, I need another string of barges, I’ll pay whatever coin it’ll take.” “I-I trust you have our best interest at heart, you always have. I’ll see what I can do, in the meantime, you might want to speak with the Snake if you need some ‘supplies’ for whatever your doing.” “Thank you my friend.” He returned to his men waiting by the barge, “I want you five to stay here and watch the barge, you five will go talk to whoever you can, convince whoever you can and pay off anyone else, we need food, materials, weapons, whatever you can get, get it. Alright men good luck, meet back here at noon.” It took ten minutes of navigating alley ways and certain establishments before Svarne was able to get an audience with Snake. He was holed up in a small cellar kept away from the eyes of the PDF, except for those he payed to keep an eye on the entrance. Weapons and exotic trinkets of all kinds lined the walls, a small oak desk in the corner with a wirey man sitting behind it, shuffling through papers. “Svarne, it’s been too long, what brings you here today? More pottery? Oh, perhaps a better fishing line?” The small man chuckled to himself. “I want weapons Snake, lasrifles, autoguns, and armor too, whatever you can get.” Snake laughed again, this time heartier and louder, “And what would you do with these weapons? Shoot more fish?” Svarne tossed him a hefty pouch which he caught just above the desk, before Snake could move a hatchet swooped and severed the bottom of the pouch, coins spilling all over the desk. Snake’s face became more serious, he looked to the man by the door and nodded at him, he closed and locked the door. Snake leaned back looking at the currency in front of him, he bore a grin. “Ok, Svarne. Let’s talk.”

“Our last, and most difficult challenge will be getting the people and supplies out of the city before anyone can realize what is happening. May Lord Khorne watch over you all.”
----------
When Svarne had returned to the port with his crate of goods the dock master had finished attaching the string of barges together and was giving them one final overview. One of the Gorepaladins notified Svarne that they were able to secure quite a bit of food, materials, etc. and that they had around sixty people ready to leave with the rest of them. “Good, this is good. But if we’re going to get back in time we need to leave now, I want twenty people on each barge, load the last with supplies. We move out in thirty.” The dock master walked up, “So Svarne, what is going on, you have me worried.” “You should be, something is about to fall on this city.” “What do you mean Svarne?” “Chaos is here, I have met the leader of a warband and he has taken us in. I know it sounds bad, but these men, these Khorne worshippers are not at all how the Imperial propaganda describes them, they gave us food, shelter, everything we need.” “And what of my brother, did he join, willingly?” “Yes, yes he did. Torvald, come with us, life will be better than, than this,” He gestured to the decaying buildings and rotting infrastructure of the decrepit docks, “I give you my word, we are fighting a fight that matters, for our families.” Torvald looked about and paced for a minute, trying to contemplate the sudden turn of events. Gorepaladin Lance beckoned Svarne, “Svarne, we’re ready to leave, let us go.” Svarne stepped onto the barge and turned around one last time, “Come Torvald, for a better life.” He offered out his hand, Torvald took it. Svarne smiled and laughed, “Good man you are Torvald. Alright, let us go, let us depart!”

+++Gore Spawn Campsite+++

Ziinek watched the barges come in very carefully, in the off chance the Imperials had found them out, but luckily for them everything seemed in order, the red flag on the first barge went everything went fine. He followed them down river in a Chimerae to where the cultists had set up their camp by the river. When the barge stopped people immediately began unloading all of their supplies, Ziinek walked over, scaring some, empowering others to work harder, he greeted Svarne with a clasp on the forearm, “I am impressed Svarne, not only have you secured our barges but you bring supplies as well.” “Not just supplies.” He motioned for the Prince to follow him as he walked over to a crate that had just been pulled off the barge, he cracked it open and stepped aside. Ziinek was loooking at a crate filled with weapons and ammunition. “There are two others just like these.” “Good, now tend to your people, I will take the barges back up stream.” “You’re not destroying that city without me.” “Oh? Why so eager?” “Well, while I was there I was able to pay someone to post small flyers around the city, hopefully when that is raised,” He gestured to a red banner bearing the Gorespawn’s symbol, “When we get there I will give a call through hacked vox waves, then more will join us, and the city will burn.” “That was a risky move Goreknight, what makes you think that the Imperials will not catch on? And what of your vox waves, who will break into those.” A short rugged man approached the duo, “I-I will, I have experience with the city’s voxes, I know how to break into the signals.” Ziinek turned his gaze, almost annoyed at the intrusion, “And who, might you be?” “Torvald… your highness.” He gave a timid bow unsure if it were the right thing to do. “And do you have the proper equipment?” “Yes, Svarne told me of his idea so I brought my stuff over. It should work from the barges should we get in firing distance of the city.” “Hmm…. well we should move fast if we’re going to get there by night.”

It was not but an hour later that the string of eight barges was being loaded with artillery, the lead holding the battalions coveted Minotaur. The next three holding Basilisks while another three held Medusas, the last barge was outfitted with command equipment, surveillance tech, and Torvald’s vox machine, the rest of the barge was kept free to hold whatever people would flee the city. Ziinek walked up and down the river bank making sure each barge contained the right vehicles, crew, ammunition, etc. and after he was satisfied with his outfit they set out on their voyage. Mid-voyage the flotilla had the detriment of being caught in a storm. Some of the barges almost capsizing, lightning flashing through the clouds, and rain almost drowning the air. Svarne, barely holding on to a post looked over at Beltrok next to him, just standing there, not holding a damned thing. “Beltrok are you mad? Does this storm not worry you?” “No my young friend, this storm only bolsters my belief that what we are doing is the right thing.” “What do you mean, this storm would seem to serve as an ill omen.” “You misplace your faith Goreknight, our Lord gives his toughest challenges to his strongest warriors, you should feel blessed to be in this storm.” He thought this over, if this were true, then did Khorne actually have his eye on them? If so, he would not disappoint. He slowly planted his feet on the deck, mimicking Beltrok, who only grinned. He then let go of the post and stood tall, he was braving the storm. His bravado was cut short by a wave pummeling the barge, sending Svarne into the pilot house, knocking him out cold.

+++Arcadis Bay+++

When he finally awoke, the storm had gone, but so had the sun, it must have been near midnight. Upon sitting up Ziinek walked over and helped him reach his feet. Chuckling he waved his arm on the horizon and Svarne noticed they had finally reached the city, it was nearing time. “What’s our situation?” “Well, we’re prepping shells and maneuvering into position, luckily there are calm waters, but we must hurry, who knows how long we have.” There was some buzzing and a familiar voice from one corner of the barge, Svarne looked over his shoulder to see Torvald, having already cracked into the vox lines, reading off a piece of paper. Ziinek started piling crates and stood on them, he clicked his vox channel to open so the artillery crews could hear.

“Brothers, sisters, my bloodied kin, born of brass and bone. Hear me, when I say a great event is upon us, as is Khorne’s eye. Khorne! I, Goreprince Ziinek Calisto, brand this city with your mark! I doom its inhabitants to sacrificial slaughter in your name. Let all who wish to serve you come forth, let all who don’t, burn.” With the last words of cold hate and righteous lust for gore, the barges began firing. Fargun handed Svarne a pair of binoculars through which he looked upon the city. A lone tear fell from his eye as he watched his home be destroyed. Anger swelled within him as he remembered all the pain, all the oppression, all the hipocracy of the Imperium, his heart pounded, his breath quickened, “Burn!” Ziinek afforded a glance back and smiled as Khorne’s influence fell upon Svarne. He looked back over the city, screams faintly heard, carried softly by the winds over the sea. The shells creating small marks upon the huge city, but that was ok, they had plenty of ammunition. It was not long before small boats were spotted, people holding up their hands, showing them the flyers that were posted around the city. The skies were clear but a storm of gore and thundering explosions descended upon the domains of the corpse emperor. Whole city blocks were sundered, districts felled in but an hour, the city had not yet fallen, but by the will of Khorne they would all die. The shelling continued through the night, small bands of survivors making there way to the flotilla, the fire of the city creating a false sunrise, it was beautiful. When the sun finally rose, almost nothing was left of the city, Ziinek seemed not joyous, nor angry, just, calm. That was until Torvald informed him that a small band of PDF were holed up in an underground network. “Good, perhaps they will live and tell the Imperium of what is to come. They are like bait, and we are the trap.” Turning, he spoke to the people present, both civilians and the odd PDF soldier, “You see? Instead of helping you or saving someone the Imperial soldiers holed up by themselves, and stood by as your city burned. There is nothing the Imperium can offer you but death. However, we can offer you more.” He stepped off his crates and called Svarne over, “You have had the pleasure of witnessing a great event, a knight has fallen on the Imperium.” The last of the shells were spent, then the flotilla made their way back to the Black Sands, night had fallen on Arcadis Bay for the last time.”


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/08/12 18:46:12


Post by: Benny Badmen


( Post pending until roll is done )


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/08/13 13:02:28


Post by: Sgt_Smudge


As the fires in the streets of New Pavus died down, searchlights flooded the streets instead, bathing the Highknight Wall with a moat of light. Scion and PDF forces kept their weapons trained over the wall, scanning for any change in the streets. Nothing stirred. Their gaze didn't falter. The PDF who had fled the massacre of the South Gate and Court of Honours were triply alert: once for the Tiller threat, twice for their recent escape, and thrice for the guns of the Scions behind them. The grim elite troopers behind them already looked down on the PDF forces as cowards who had run from the fight. They would not hesitate to punish them should they fail again. Beyond the wall, in the Northern half of New Pavus, the soldiers gripped their guns tighter, and formed barricades and kill boxes in the streets and cul-de-sacs. Ammunition and portable barricades were dourly passed through the city.
In the South, the situation was far different.

The bars and pubs of the south side were packed. Ale and alcohol leaked out from the open doors. Recaf and lho-sticks flowed from sentry to sentry, a jubilant procession of victory. Chants of old hymns and folk tunes heralded the Tiller victory, and the soldiers indulged in the change of the tide. They didn't know when the next attack would start, only that it would. Until then, they would push their mortal flesh to it's limits, drinking, whoring, and cheering the hours away.
Of course, there were exceptions.

Vandred followed behind Nassau into the slums of New Pavus. No-one lived here now, not when the celebrations were several blocks away. The only residents here were the drunk, the dead, and the rats.
The two soldiers reached a corrugated steel door, flanked by two large men with combat shotguns. Heavy bolter emplacements were squatted over before them, their massive barrels keeping ever-vigilant watch over the door. Vandred was glad he wasn't attacking the Tiller command building. Instead, Nassau flashed an iron-wrought sigil at the guards, who let him pass. One of them paused as he began to push the lever that opened the door.

"Who's the other one?" Vandred knew his appearance would raise some questions. It wasn't unusual to distrust a man shrouded by a hood and cowl. The barest hint of his flesh was visible, and that which was seemed just as dark as the cloak.

Nassau kept walking. "What happened to 'don't ask, don't tell'? This one is an ally, and I can vouch for them. Is that sufficient, or will I need to interrogate you too, Brutus?"
Brutus bit his tongue, and pulled on the lever. The deadlocked door swung open, and Vandred and Nassau entered.

Major O'Connell reached his hand out to Vandred as soon as the sub-commander entered the room.
"Before you say anything, I, and the Tiller army, must owe you our thanks. New Pavus would have been nigh impossible without your aid."

Vandred returned the gesture, gripping the Major's arm. "We hold to our debts, Gue'v- sorry, Major." He laughed off the parapraxes.

Nassau interjected. "Sub-Commander Vandred is the infantry commander of a renegade Tau Cadre on Crion. I apologise I wasn't able to give you the details over vox, but we couldn't risk detection. Sub-Commander, would you care to explain your situation to the Major?"

"Sunstrike Cadre disavowed from the Tau Empire a matter of months ago, and made landing on Crion when our skim drives malfunctioned. Our transport craft is hidden in orbit around the planet, but we need to recover an Imperial Warp Drive to repair our own engines. In the meantime, we touched down on the mainworld, Crion, in a region you know as Kalhoon. My Shas'O's men have been scouting the region, avoiding what trouble we can. However, I encountered your Captain here during the battle of AHC-02, and he assisted me in taking the aqua farm. When he contacted me to assist in the siege of New Pavus, many of Sunstrike Cadre were against going to support you. We're anxious to rouse the ire of the Imperium right now. We've bartered a ceasefire out of protection from the Imperial forces whilst we can mobilise. However, far more of us decided to honour the pledge we made, and I took a hand-picked team of warriors to aid you.
I'm afraid it is imperative that our involvement in this battle must be kept minimal indeed. Only us three know of my Cadre's involvement in aiding your troops and augmenting the "lasguns" of Nassau's Tiller host. I advise we keep it that way."

O'Connell nodded. "That would explain the hoods then."
"Yes: even though most of my forces are Kroot or Gue - sorry, human auxiliaries to the Cadre, there are two Tau Pathfinders and all three of my Stealth Suit operators are Tau-born. We can't afford to let our presence be known here."

"Understood. You'll have to stay hidden and support the army from the shadows."

Nassau turned to O'Connell. "Major, shall I let the Sub-Commander know about who we found beyond the wall? The ones I was looking at recruiting?"

"You know I don't trust their kind. At least Vandred's men have some honour. Men who sell their iron for silver and gold?" The Tiller commander spat on the stony floor. "I don't like it. But if Vandred will throw his lot in with them? So be it."

Nassau handed Vandred a copy of a payment for a 'Hotel Brackus'. As Vandred's eyes scanned the piece of parchment, he compiled the data.
"'Initials of Client: S.B.
Room No: 21B
Group size: 5 persons
Stay length: Fourteen days (Leaving on 19 Septum)
Reason of stay: Offering services, combat leave.'
What am I looking at here?"

Nassau handed him a second sheaf of paper. Advertisements, both transcripts over local radio and clipped out of recent papers.

"'Soldiers of fortune, for hire. Combat experience in over thirty warzones, with a five man team of trained soldiers from a multitude of backgrounds. Exceptional track record includes successful contracts on Dreygur, Necromunda, Grimdi, and even Cadia itself. No task too big or small: from neighbour to Sector Governor, militia to Astartes, we can carry out a confirmed kill. Hire before 19 Septum to avoid disappointment.' A bunch of mercenaries? What's the connection?"

"These mercs are staying at the Hotel Brackus for another two days. Their skills seem very reputable, and their ability is beyond anything I've seen from a common mercenary. As a small team, they should suit your style of combat well. I'd seriously consider hiring these ones: if you can get over the wall and afford them."

"And if they've not been bought by the Imperials."

"We'll look into this." Vandred declared. "Give me all the data you have on the situation and how to get over Highknight Wall."

Spoiler:
Part one of two.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/08/13 19:17:51


Post by: Irishpeacockz


Mason awoke to a throbbing pain between his eyes, where his nose had been broken, looking up he could tell he was indoors somewhere. A whimpering to his right made him sit up, he saw the rusty bars and through them many more like it, he was lying on a yellow stained, worn rotten mattress which offered no comfort from the hard ground upon which it was laid, there was a sorry excuse for a toilet where flies swooped in and around it attracted to the pungent smells that oozed from it, a single barred window was on the back wall but it was too high up for anyone to look out, “Prison” thought Mason letting out a sigh. A ray of sunlight shined in form the window illuminating a red lock of hair of someone in the corner, Mason squinted just about able to make out his slender frame, “Varius” there was no reply as two men donned in crimson marched past “Varius, who are they ?” The illuminated strand of hair receded into the shadows and was replaced by a twitchy eye “I- I don't know, imperial most likely” the eye lowered and the strand of hair returned. “What about Clover and Logan ?” Varius did not move this time “Last I saw him he was struggling with the guards down the corridor to the right” there was a pause “And Clover ?” Mason asked “Haven't seen her since Cordova” figuring he had got as much information out of Varius as he could Mason returned to observing his surroundings. Standing up from his sorry excuse for a mattress Mason put his hands between the bars and rested on them, they were in some sort of cellblock with other people, some he recognised from Cordova such as the barman who now sported a fresh scar across his forehead and a few other patrons. Armed guards patrolled the cellblock with the occasional prisoner throwing an insult at them in a futile gesture of defiance, Mason felt uneasy “Something's up” he thought to himself, his eyes darted around the cellblock and the prisoners themselves, “Everyone is too quiet, too relaxed, something is about to happen” the sink behind Mason shifted a little leaving a small gap in between the wall and the sink, confusion and curiosity set in as Mason approached the moving appliance and jumped back half a step when a voice emerged “Hey you, want outta here ?” The voice was soft, feminine and echoed down what must have been a passage behind the sinks of all the cells, “For easy access for the plumber ?” Mason quickly snapped himself back to reality and whispered back “Uhh sure” there was a few moments silence before the voice returned “Great, all you gotta do is snatch a key” Mason continued to eye the sink “Whats the catch ?” “Its on one of the patrolling guards person” Mason threw his hands in the air and looking back at the bars
reconsidering his decision before the voice reigned him back in “Listen, he always takes a sip from the water fountain right outside your cell around 15:43 when he is hunched over pinch the keys from his right hand side on his belt and toss them behind your sink, when it goes down I’ll come back for you” “And what if he doesn't feel thirsty today ? Hello ? Hello ?” There was no answer, whoever that person was now gone leaving Mason to ponder his decision.

Garathal climbed the creaky wooden stairs for the tenth day in a row, each step up the delicate staircase could collapse under him and send him sprawling into the dark abyss below, Garathal swore to one day gut that cultist for forcing him up these stairs. The cultist claimed that the pigeons would only nest in high places and as such this abandoned tower suited them perfectly. “Laeron !” Shouted Garathal if the creaking of the steps did not announce his dreaded arrival that certainly did, “Yes sir” Laeron stood stiff as a board in salute Garathal entered the cramped rookery where the plague pigeons made their home, “Any news from any of them ?” Laeron relaxed and shrugged “Sorry sir the pigeons came back empty handed”. The rookery provided a great view of the surrounding swamplands, Garathal took advantage of this and devised his next move. Thoughts raced through the mind of the sorcerer “Enemies must be closing in and if Cogger is lost so is the only other bastion of Chaos” Laeron interrupted him “Sir, shall we send them out again ?” Garathal did not move but merely muttered something “One down, One to go” “Sir ?” Garathal turned for the stair way “Do what you want with them” and departed. At the end of the tower stood Brother Steele and Brother Krel , two of Garathal's seven “Brother steele, plans have changed I will be conducting the ritual set things in motion” Steele departed without saying a word and his brother Krel fell in behind Garathal who made his way to the large room beneath his cathedral

“What were they thinking putting chilli on the menu two days in a row ? That gak just runs right through me and sets my tongue on fire” “Could be worse Harry, you could be chewing on those miserable rations with those fancy off worlders hunting traitors” “Hmm, true Frank, true anyway better get back to watching these scum, see ya tomorrow” “See ya round Harry” the two parted ways with Harry stopping along his route to take a sip of water. While sipping, he could have swore he felt a tug at his belt but thought nothing of it and moved on. The plan was set and soon it will be sprung.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/08/15 19:36:22


Post by: Sgt_Smudge


"Hunter 1, in position."

"Hunter 2, in position."

Searchlights swept repeatedly over the front of Highknight Wall. Nothing passed on the south side without the sentries seeing. The muzzles of their rifles stood sentinel, like statues. Their gaze was absolute - godlike in power and strength. In that strip of light, they decided who lived and died.
At least, so they thought.

A dark object fell into the light pool. Black and tan fatigues clung to the figure, which lay unmoving in the light. Blood spilled from below it. The markings and colour of the body armour identified the man as one of the Blood Fort troopers. His body seemed to move feebly, his arms struggling at something. A voice came from the man.
"Help! Medic!"

Without delay, the barricades on Highknight Wall lifted up, and a fireteam of PDF soldiers moved into the Southern border. They kept their weapons up, scanning the impenetrable darkness of the Crionian night. Even though the Tiller forces hadn't attacked over the last twenty-four hours, the paranoia of the PDF soldiers was just as much a weapon as the Tiller arsenal. They reached the bleeding out corpse: two soldiers went down to assess the body, as their officer oversaw it. The rest took to kneeling positions, keeping their guns trained on the streets. They couldn't keep an eye on all of them.

Just as the two soldiers went down to check the body, the sergeant glimpsed a thin wire running off of the body's arms. It twitched. The arm twitched. An active vox-caster was lying beneath the man. There were no bloodstains leading to the body. It was almost as if the body had just been put there...
"It's a trap!"
The soldiers pulled the long-dead corpse off the tripwire.

EMP and smoke bombs billowed out from the Blood Fort trooper, and the PDF soldiers stumbled through the smoke. Beams of lasgun fire cut through the smoke, missing the PDF soldiers by the narrowest of margins. The troopers tried to fire back, but their lasguns jammed, ruined by the EMP blast. Their vox casters cut off, and only their incoherent screams reached back to the wall. The Scion commander bellowed at the PDF soldiers to reach the gate before he closed it. The sergeant felt something brush past him in the smoke, and he turned to follow whoever it was. Only, what passed him was not one of his troopers.
Clad in dark clothes, shrouded and hooded, the figure turned to face the dumbstruck officer. The sergeant was about to call out the stranger, only to find himself falling to the ground, a pulse pistol round in his gut. More lasfire lanced through the smoke, and the sergeant saw a second dark figure join the first and disappear into the air.

Only two of the ten PDF soldiers made it past the closing gate. The rest were slaughtered. Their corpses lay broken and bored into, their dark blood illuminated by the Imperial searchlights. Their sergeant was amongst the dead, a massive hole blasted into his chest. In the chaos, no-one saw two figures, swathed in black, slip through the smoke and through the closing gate.

-----------------------------------

Vandred looked out over the street. The gaudy neon lights of the "Brackus Hotel" replaced the dim light of the moons above, turning the wet streets silver. Behind him, Gue'vesa'ui Blayke kept a watch over the back door of the dank apartment. The building had been closed for demolition, so the two Tau troopers decided to make camp in the top floor. Their gear was light anyway, but it never hurt to have a command centre. Doctrine must be followed.

The Sub-Commander made a quick inventory of the team's equipment. The pair of them had looted Imperial flak breastplates, a pair of modified lasguns, their own pulse pistols, a handful of EMP grenades, and a fusion bomb. Most importantly was the small crate in the corner. Inside held roughly two thousand counterfeit Imperial credits. Vandred hoped that the mercenaries wouldn't notice their fake payment. Besides, when he could make contact with Sunstrike Cadre, he could refund the mercenaries in triplicate. He just needed them on his side, whichever way possible.

He removed himself from the empty window, holstered his pistol and picked up the crate. Blayke took the hint, and pulled his hood over. The two soldiers headed down the stairs, and entered the Brackus Hotel.

"Greetings ma'am. We're looking for room 21B."

The lady behind the desk clicked through a series of datasheets before dragging up the information.
"It's in the third floor, on your left. Would you like me to put a call through for them?"

"No thank you. We'll take it from here." Vandred and Blayke turned away to leave.

"Wait!" Her voice cut Vandred to pieces. He resisted the urge to whip out his pistol, and turned back around.
"Yes?"

"You're an offworlder, right?"

"Yes," he blurted out in relief. "From Tach'var-"
Vandred baulked, and realised he'd named his actual homeworld, his home in old Tau Empire. If the lady knew where Tach'var was, he'd be-

"Tach'var? Sounds nice. Always wanted to get off world myself. How far away is it?"

"Very. Now good evening."
Vandred cut off the conversation, and headed upstairs.

-----------------------------------

The door to room 21B creaked open. A small man, diminutive and rotund greeted Vandred. Vandred tried to peer over the Ratling - a veil hung within the room, blocking his view. Typical.

"May I help, sirs?" the Ratling mumbled. He wasn't quite sure who Vandred and Blayke were, and the feeling was mutual.
Blayke muttered over to Vandred.
"Who's this? Have the mercs bolted early? Have they been bought?"

"I'm not a patient man." the Ratling groaned. Vandred removed his hood, and spoke to him.

"Yes, we were wondering about a certain contract? Are you the contractor?"

The Ratling grinned. "That depends. What's the contract, and how much am I being paid for it?"

"Your payment depends on the service. Tell us the service, and we'll discuss payment."

"No deal." The Ratling turned away and a gnarled hand moved for the door. As he did so, Vandred caught a flash of a pistol grip.

"You are the contractor we're after, aren't you - the mercenaries. We have need of your services."

The Ratling stopped, and whistled once. A giant of a man, taller than the already impressive Vandred, slinked out through the veil. His beard was unkempt, his arms bared and bristling with tatoos, scars, and muscle.
"Cap'n, these gents are buying."

"How much?" The man growled. Vandred knew not to mess with this animal, and hastily produced the case. The Ratling looked into it, and muttered something to the big man.

"Two thousand Imperial credits." Vandred declared.

"Too little."

"I'm sorry?" Blayke spluttered.

"Too little. We can get far more elsewhere."

"Listen here, we can pay this back in triplicate - six thousand credits. This is just a-"

"Scam?" The two Tau troopers showed the barest hint of panic. This was not going as planned. The man continued. "These are fake 'Imperial credits'. You're not from these parts: no-one uses the word 'credit'. It's Thrones, not credits. And no-one puts 'Imperial' on the front. So you're not Imperial. And you're not from this planet. Which means you're-"
Blayke reached for his pistol.
The mercenary pulled a bolt pistol from nowhere.
Vandred drew his pulse pistol.

Blayke froze, his hand hovering on his holstered gun. The big man grinned, his own gun at Blayke's chin, looking down the sights of Vandred's pulse pistol.
"-Tau." He grinned. "Interesting."
He lowered his bolt pistol. Vandred did the same, leaving Blayke breathing heavily.
"Count us in. I know you can easily pay us more than what you offered. I'll take an offer of roughly ten thousand Thrones worth from you. I know you can pay it, and you can count on us to work until we complete your task."

Vandred sighed in relief. "Good. How many are you? We saw there were five in your advertisement?"

"And five there are. The rest of the group are aboard our own ship out of system, alongside our leader. He'll pick us up when we contact him. Let us pack our things, and we'll do as you ask."

"We're heading over the Highknight Wall. We need a way over."

The Ratling gave an annoyed groan. The man snarled at him, shutting the diminutive abhuman up.
"In what respect? Is our quarry over the wall?"

"Wrong side, comrade. Our men are on that side."

"We're fighting Imperials?" The mercenary's eyes lit up, like a wolf getting scent of prey. "God-Emperor, I've missed that. I thought I'd never fight their ilk again."

"You've fought them before?"

"You thought that line in our advert was exaggeration? 'Neighbour to Sector Governor, militia to Astartes'? Been there, done that."

"Huh." Vandred saw the raw power and animalistic power in the man's eyes. There was strength, brute force, and sheer willpower, but also cunning and intellect.
"We're headed off in five. Get your things, rally your soldiers, and prepare to take a trip south. We'll plan our way over as we go."

-----------------------------------

Two explosions went up at the Northern border of Highknight Wall. Imperial ammo dumps, storing used magazines, jerry cans and faulty rounds, went sky high, creating small but terrifying explosions from behind the frontlines. PDF and Scion troopers scrambled to assemble at the sites of the explosions, ready for a surprise Tiller attack from within the Northern half. The other force watched over the gate entrance, fearing that it was a diversion to leave the gate undefended.
In truth, it was a diversion. But not quite what they expected. No Tillers charged. No shots were fired. Nothing even tried to cross into the Northern half.

Instead, seven figures rappelled over the wall, several hundred metres away from the gate, into the Southern half, unseen by the guards who had all scrambled to the main gate. They left no trace. Seven soldiers vanished into the southern half of New Pavus.

-----------------------------------

When they were far enough away from the border, and safely in Tiller territory, Vandred sidled over to the big human mercenary.

"You said you weren't the leader of this mercenary group? Why do they all follow you? The Ratling called you 'Captain'. "

The man kept walking. "I'm a good friend of the Boss. He's done a lot of favours for me, and I've done a fair few for him. He scratched my back, I'll scratch his. As for the others? Let's just say I'm the Boss's right hand man - they mess with me, they mess with the Boss."

"So, you're - what? His lapdog? His... hound?"

The big man grinned wolfishly.
"You could say that."

Spoiler:
Part 2 of 2.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/08/17 05:13:47


Post by: Tactical_Spam


Am I... Am I dead?

I hold onto Life
But do not feel it

I see life
But not inside myself

I hear life
But can't hear my own heart

I smell life
But I smell of death

I am... I am dead, aren't I?


Zehk awoke screaming. Every part of his being begged to die, but he knew his fate was already sealed. He was trapped in eternal limbo. There was something bound to his soul. He knew what possession was and this was not it. There was a soul bound to his. A soul wrongfully departed from the realm of man. Like any man, the soul was fickle. It could not decide if it wanted to return to realm of man or wished to stay a being of the warp and as such, its energy ebbed and went. As such, Zehk could never be alive or dead, but frozen between the two.

Zehk awoke screaming. Zehk was no stranger to other voices in his head, but the soul that had been bound to him was more than he could handle. If it wanted to make its presence known, it wouldn't be subtle. It would scream. It would scream to the point that Zehk only knew how to scream. He could remember the last time he spoke gothic nor what gothic sounded like. He forgot what companionship was as his only friend was the mind-rending wail that never ceased. He had no senses left. Everything was taxed to its absolute breaking point, but never broke. If it ever came close to breaking, the screaming would stop and Zehk was himself again, but never for very long.

Zehk awoke screaming. He was in a forest somewhere, surrounded by death. Every tree was barren and the ground was parched. He could see his killer, the one who struck fear into him. It was a tall thing with a long, tattered cloak that was dragged behind the creature in a long train. Zehk could have sworn it was a tail, but it made no difference. He would have struck it if his body had let him, but the screaming was unbearable. It approached him slowly and circled him, inching its long, serpentine body around Zehk. By the time it came face to face with him, he was firmly within its coils.

"Do you know what I am?" the creature asked, its voice as soothing as a lullaby. Zehk scantly heard it over the screams. "I am Suolyn'ne..." Zehk thrashed involuntarily. Suolyn'ne simply coiled around him tighter so he could move nothing but his head. "You hear the voices Zehk… Let me end them. All you have to do is let me in your head,” Suolyn’ne cooed in Zehk’s ear, all the while the voices crescendoed into a banshee’s cry that dragged white hot nails through his mind. He nodded statically, foaming at the mouth. Suolun’ne only laughed at his misfortune and looked him deep in the eyes. Zehk stared back into the blackness of the snake’s eyes and found himself lost… and falling.

Zehk fell for what seemed like hours in the hellish abyss. The voices only grew louder with each passing moment. If Zehk had his bolter, he most assuredly would have shot himself. Desperation grew unhindered in his mind and the realisation that the snake had abandoned him in some hell of the Warp weeded its way into his subconscious. It wouldn’t have been the first time he was outplayed by the empty promise of a daemon. Despite these thoughts, Zehk knew the snake was somewhere.

“I am here, Zehk. Why do you doubt that?” the snake teased, “Do you not believe what you can’t see?”

Through the torture of the voices, Zehk managed to gather his thoughts into a coherent sentence, “Do they not say that seeing is believing?” A hearty laughter filled his ears; it was his own. His own mind now mocked him for his weakness.

“Then open your eyes, Astartes. Darkness is no stranger to you now.”

Zehk looked down and saw that a forest was rising fast to meet him. He looked around for the snake, but could not find her. Green flooded his vision and the impact his power armour was barely registered before his Sus-an membrane activated and threw him into a restless coma.

* * *

Zehk awoke screaming, though the voices had long since left his mind. The scream was a feral war cry by anyone of the mortal realm and a song to those of the Warp. Zehk beamed with an exuberance that not many would have found comforting, especially from one who was as grim as Zehk. He opened his eyes and saw colour; something he had not the appreciation to notice since his possession habits. He knew fully well that nothing here should be visible to him as it was the mid of night and the moon, ever waxing, shone through the trees, illuminating the dirt where Zehk lay on his back.

A twig snapped beyond Zehk’s immediate field of view and he hastily spun to see who dared to approach him. It was a horse rider at first glance, but Zehk’s mind was not so quick to dismiss the fact that the rider and horse were one being. Creatures like the one racing towards him were not unheard of among the leagues of Chaos. They were Beastmen: a blessed-by-Chaos abhuman. This one specifically was a Centigor, if memory served Zehk correct. It seldom did. Zehk was not afraid of them, even if this one showed its hostility on its breastplate.

“Ho now, Traitor-kin. You trespass into the domain of the Shadow Lord. State your business or be gone, lest I resort to violence. I am no stranger to the latter.

”Ease yourself, Child of the Warp. We all serve the same master,” Zehk asserted with two voices, the snake’s and his own. He had dared to assume this ‘Shadow Lord’ was his Ewryht’eikl, but fate saw Zehk as an uncanny guesser. A larger Centigor, nearly as tall and half as stout as a Dreadnaught, laiden in full power armour of an onyx hue, trotted into view.

“Blessed the darkness, you live,” the newcomer murmured. The armoured Centigor cantered over to Zehk and offered an armoured hand to the prone him. Zehk took it and hauled himself up. “Ewryht’eikl predicted your revival and now you stand here. Come, we must notify him post haste.”

“Revival? I was not aware of my-”

“You’ve been dead for several months, Zehk. The Dark Lord has been without strategy since.”

Zehk stared in disbelief. A small exchange of words was shared between him and the snake mentally and Zehk was told that he indeed perished sometime ago. Nevertheless, he questioned the Centigor, “Why should I lay trust in you, Beastman.”

“Because I am your Brother. I am Orelius of the New Order.”

“Lies! You are the foul kindred of the daemons”

The Centigor held out his right gauntlet. On the inside of the forearm was carved a waxing crescent moon, a common sigil and callsign among the remaining New Order Astartes that remained true to the Dark Lord. Very few of those Astartes were left standing and the Dark Lord only employed two to do his dirty work: Zehk and Orelius.

“I have been gifted by the Dark Lord, Brother, as have you. Now come Zehk Twice-born, the gears are in motion in the grandest plan: one that will make the Charadon Crusade seem pale in comparison.”


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/08/18 01:50:18


Post by: CKO


First Entry!

Such bravery Shas’el Recardo thought as he listen to the conversation between Por’Ui Lortal and the gue'la light cruiser officer. He was in the Command Room listening to the conversation for the twelfth time. Despite the Por’Ui calm demeanor the gue’la was afraid and fired before a proper introduction could be made. “Savages”, Shas’el Li’una said distatesfully interrupting Recardo’s thoughts as she entered the room all the other Tau immediately saluted her.

“The Water Caste are brave, they are aware of these type of reactions but they still optimistically approach each situation the same.” Recardo said not turning around to acknowledge her presence as she motion the others to return to work as the familiar sound of war started.

Despite the loud sounds of ion cannons and the gue’la potent lascannons in the background the two Commanders spoke as if it was a calming melody to them. “Por’ui Lortal was lucky to survive that encounter, unlike the gue’la! They were unlucky when Commander Kenpachi chose me instead of you to make landfall.” Li’una said with a smile on her face as Recardo quickly turn his head perplex by her comment only to see that she was mocking his analytical side again.

“The Greater Good was with you, I must say you were able to complete the mission with few casualties. I am surprise that their Imperial Fleet did not send reinforcements after the Lar’shivre cruiser demolished their light cruiser” he said as he sat down.

“Its simple the Imperium is spread thin, our drones have seen images of nearly every known faction on this planet or its moons.” she said as she sat across from him.

“Why this planet?”

“Recardo your the analytical you figure it out, I am here because the Greater Good wants me here.”

Li’un charisma was legendary! Recardo knew this and when she decided to retire their would be books about it. Her speeches were recorded and replayed in training sessions, he had even used her words himself to motivate his soldiers. There was no way to respond to that statement so instead he nodded his head in approval and watched as her manta made landfall. There was little to no resistance some gue’la farmers pick up there flintlock rifles and tried to fight but, Li’un forces were to much. Few gue’la died as she skillfully out maneuvered them and captured the women and children and used them as tools to create peace, Aun’el Sus’ej had taught her that.

It took only twenty cycles for Li’un to establish the Tau base and during that time Por’ui Lortal had learn a lot from the farmers, despite the fact that they refused to join the Empire.They were in Aelara and only thirty miles south of Hive City Magnaficus, Recardo knew that when Shas’o Emerica Kenpachi arrived that the Hive City would be their next target.

Shas’O Kenpachi is more like a living myth to the Fire Caste, known for using the XV86 Coldstar Battlesuit. He has saved many lives descending from the sky like the ancient tales of the Aun with his high output burst cannon demolishing the enemy or using his marker light drones to illuminate the unknown enemy. They are than demolished by seeker missiles or worst as he commands entire Contingents. He is famously quoted for saying,”Morale is my weapon of choice and with my XV86 I can use my weapon on my soldiers or my enemy.”.

Shas’el Recardo and Shas’el Li’un were expecting him to arrive within the next hour or so that is why they both were in the Command Room. “Shas’el Recardo I apologize for interrupting your studies but Aun’el Tau Sus’ej Orca has been granted permission to land!” the Tau operator spoke with a sense of shock in her voice. Recardo was confused and Li’un smiled before saying, “This just got interesting.”

“Did you say Aun’el Sus’ej? Pull up the image immediately” Recardo order as he had only seen Sus’ej in holographic images. The operator nodded and within moments the image of the Orca ship landing was on display.

“Calm down everyone you all should be proud of your service to the Greater Good. We all were prepared for the arrival of Shas’o Emerica Kenpachi but we are fortunate that Aun’el Tau Sus’ej is here also. We often speak of the Greater Good but when you meet Aun’el Tau Sus’ej you will get a chance to feel it, smell it, and hear it! We all are blessed this day, prepare yourselves for the Greater Good!” Li’un leadership skills and charisma was on full display as she maintain order in the room. Gasp could be heard by some as the image of Kenpachi was seen those unfamiliar with his height were astonished! Two seconds later Aun’el Sus’ej step off of the Orca reached down and grabbed the ground. He lifted a fist full of dirt and grass as if to smell it before letting the wind slowly blow it out of his grip.

“Shas’el Emerica Recardo is the Command Room ready?” Shas’o Kenpachi’s voice interrupted the silence in the command room as everyone was fixated on Sus’ej.

“Yes, Shas’o” Recardo responded trying to shake off his trance like state.

“Shas’el Li’un is the base fully operationally” Shas’o ask well aware of the answer.

“Yes, Shas’o the two Fire Warriors will escort you to the Command room.” she replied.

“I have Aun’el Tau Sus’ej with me, we are blessed this day. The Greater Good has a special mission for us on this planet. We are going to re-establish contact with some lost friends.” Shas’o said as he and the Aun’el made their way to the Command room.

Commander Recardo was no longer confused he was flat out lost. He had reviewed every detail about this planet and every drone scan there were no friends on this planet. Li’un got up and walked over to him and whispered, “I am sorry we had to keep it a secret from you but not all Tau remember the Greater Good.”


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/08/18 23:19:22


Post by: Irishpeacockz


Varius was having another panic attack, again. The frail man began to shake uncontrollably, sweat poured out from every pore as the man descended into a jittery wreck, his teeth chattered as he managed to cry out a sentence or two

“S-S-S-She ain't c-coming b-back for us, w-we w-w-will r-rot in here just l-like all those b-b-bodies in the sweet s-sweet ground”

The shaking stopped and Varius stared around the cell as if it was his first time, wide eyed. He shifted from his cross legged position to lie himself down on the hard filthy floor and slowly began to caress its surface.

This was the third time such an fit has happened in the last 24 hours and they are becoming worse and more frequent, Mason told himself, if he gets much worse the guards will notice bringing unwanted attention to this cell and may dissuade certain friends from visiting. Mason looked at the empty shell of a already deranged man, he stopped eating and using the toilet, preferring to relieve himself where he sat which added to the stomach churning smell Mason found himself engulfed in.

They hadn’t talked in what felt like days, Mason gave up trying, whether it was due to lack of energy or patience he could not tell. There was no yard time, no variation to the daily routine, he got his breakfast, a few sloppy scoops of what Mason hoped was porridge, dinner was similar, some gloopy mess although if he was lucky he might have got some loaf of bread before the mold claimed it for itself and since Varius stopped eating Mason made sure he had room for seconds. He spent his day waiting and trying to retain his sanity, something which Varius was clearly losing grip of.

Looking back at his brother in arms he might have felt pity if he wasn't in such similar circumstances himself, a voice emerged in his head, look at him writhing in his own feces like a pig and babbling like a madman, sharing all of our secrets ! he is talking about the prison break now, but what about if he gets caught ? he knows things, knows where the Cathedral is, knows who we really are, he could ruin this infiltration, he could ruin the cult. Mason stood up to stretch his legs and to search his cell for an improvised weapon.

Mason searched high and low but the cell was barren, he contemplated using the bucket but that would be messy in more ways than one. Giving the room one last look over he looked at the sink and had an idea, upon closer inspection the bolt in the top right that had keep the appliance attached to the wall was gone which loosened the one in the bottom right enough to be pried from the wall with whatever strength Mason had left, straightening up the sink again and retrieving his prize Mason stumbled back onto his mattress and slowly began scraping the flat head of the bolt against the floor. He now had a new purpose, something to keep his mind occupied, to create an edge.

Days passed or so Mason thought, he had lost track, he had been “busy”. Suddenly, the deathly silence of the cell block was cut off when a crashing sound was heard from above him followed by the other prisoners cheering, a fight. Almost simultaneously Mason’s sink shifted more so than before, enough for him to fit through, a voice shot out “Quickly, they won't last long!” it was that feminine voice again now with a sense of urgency in her voice. Mason quickly flung the sink out as far as the two remaining bolts would allow and popped his head into the passageway,It was dark, cramped and humid. Dripping pipes lined the opposing wall which already added to the cramped tunnel, the floor was made of some metallic material which was grated revealing the gushing waters below, the only form of light was from the odd grate in the ceiling and while it wasn't much it was enough for Mason and his new friend to navigate their way to wherever it is they were going. Mason turned his head to face his rescuer and was for the first time in a long time found himself awe struck even it was just for a second. She had ebony black hair which was tied back to reveal her sea-nymph ears, her eyes were a soft sky blue,her eyebrows thin and her strawberry lips were alluring. Her figure was almost something from classical art which was clearly visible under her rags which even she made look good and yet under all that she still bore some grime on said rags and on her face, pretty but JUST the right amount of dirty thought Mason, perfect.

“Now if you are done gawking we gotta go” said the mystery woman as she turned and proceeded into the darkness

Mason blinked and realised he had been crouched there with his head sticking in the tunnel, quickly pulling himself in and following her as to not get lost, Varius managed to pull himself through and stumble after Mason. While Mason quickly caught up with his new obsession, Varius was not so fortunate and slowly began trailing further and further behind. Upon reaching a junction of converging paths, she turned to Mason

“You sure your friend is up for this ?”

Mason peered back into the encroaching darkness “If he ain’t i‘ll deal with him”

She shot him a worrisome look before moving on turning right at the junction, some ways down the path she stopped and produced a key, Mason’s key, and plunged it into a rusty red door. With a bit of effort on her part and a satisfactory creak the door opened, revealing a ladder and a source of sunlight, freedom. She began to climb

“Wait, was is the plan once we get up top ?” interrupted Mason

She turned on the ladder “We make a run for the woodlands, that a problem ?

Mason shook his head and turned to look at a pale Varius limp towards them “Not for me”

Varius tried to say something but couldn't get a word out between his coughing fits and him gasping for breath.

“He’s fethed” Mason declared

She turned back to the pair of them “And what shall we do ? leave him here ? Thats too cruel”
Mason nodded “Agreed, go on up and i’ll follow you”

She stayed a moment, she knew what he was about to do, she opened her mouth to protest but closed it and continued to climb.

Mason turned to his former brother who looked back with one twitchy eye, Mason took a step towards him. Varius helplessly raised a hand in defence but was powerless to stop the sharpened bolt that ripped his throat out

Spoiler:
So I tried to space out my piece a bit more. Also this is the first piece i typed up on a keyboard and while listening to music which was quite a different experience. Perhaps it was the music that made me feel sad for Varius in the end, But oh well this IS 40k after all


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/08/19 20:41:28


Post by: Ezra Tyrius


++ADDENDUM: All events detailed in this post take place during the final battle at Hive Cogger. Chrono-stamps added for clarity.++


++Hive Cogger, Northern Quarter++
++One hour after wall breach++

Kusun cursed.

All around him, Hive Cogger was systematically being shot, bombed and blasted to shreds. Small pieces of rubble rained down on him from above as an errant shot blasted a nearby outpost. Other explosions thundered in the background, blending in with the sound of gunfire and the steady grind of armoured columns advancing in the streets. The Imperial spearhead was pushing up hard and fast, breaking through the cultists’ defences as it made its way to the citadel.

Which was exactly where he was heading, too.

He and Mithras had been directing the fortification of the Atonement Plaza when the Hive’s northern entrance was blown open by concentrated artillery fire. Malcador tanks carrying Inquisitorial Stormtroopers had rushed through the breach, making quick work of the gate’s remaining defenders and swiftly establishing a beachhead for the Imperials to pour in from the north. Kusun’s own troops, two squads of Astartes and a single squad of Terminators had had only minutes to prepare themselves for the onslaught that was coming for them. They had hastily set up a defensive position at the fountain at the centre of the plaza, while scores of cultists frantically took position in the buildings around it. They were outnumbered, outgunned, out of position and caught by surprise; for any mortal force, that would have been a death sentence.

For an Astartes, all that was merely a challenge.

The initial skirmish had been swift but brutal. The Malcador tanks had rolled into the streets, providing cover for the Stormtroopers advancing behind them while simultaneously turning several of the cultists into pink mist with their battle cannons. The spearhead’s steady advance had been short-lived, however; improvised explosives had rained from the windows above the tanks and bolter fire hammered through their armour plating, destroying the frontrunners in minutes, their iron corpses blocking the road for the tanks behind them.
The Stormtroopers had adapted quickly, however, and soon the windows of the surrounding buildings had flashed white as flash-grenades rolled through the doors. The cultists, while numerous, didn’t stand a chance against the experienced veterans of the Inquisition, and soon shots were coming from all angles, bathing Kusun’s position in las, plasma and stubber rounds.

The sheer amount of fire focussed on them was too much for even Astartes to bear, and Kusun hastily ordered a retreat as his men died around him. The two remaining Terminators were left behind to secure the others’ escape, although that had more to do with them flying into a blood rage rather than planned strategy.

As Kusun, Mithras and the few survivors from their strike force ran from the charnel house that was the Atonement Plaza, a single question had burned into his mind, and it was that same question that drove him through the battlefield towards the citadel.

Why had they not been warned?

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

++Hive Cogger, Southern Quarter++
++One hour after wall breach++


“Stand fast, my children! Show them the power of the Grandfather!”

Brother Anlock’s warcry was almost lost in the maelstrom of the battle raging around him, having to compete with the cries of the dying and the screeching sound of bikes and assault buggies skidding around the battlefield. Above him, great beasts prowled in the sky, swooping down on the defenders at breakneck speed, snatching whoever they could get their claws on only to drop them mercilessly back to the earth. In the distance, Chimeras and Tauroxes were rolling in, their passengers setting up forward positions and deploying mortars, adding explosive noise to the cacophony of war.

It had all gone so fast. One moment, he had been inspecting the defences in the Southern Quarter, the next, there was a mighty big hole in said defences, and an avalanche Imperial assault units had roared into the Hive. Bikers and horse cavalry had swarmed into the streets, leaping over barricades meant to stop armoured vehicles with contemptuous ease. The outer defences had fallen swiftly into the enemy’s hands, and now the inner circles, those closest to the citadel, were heavily contested.

One didn’t need to be a seasoned general to know that the battle was going poorly for the forces of the Dark Gods. The static defences the cultists and Astartes had erected were no match for the fast-moving Imperials, and the Plague Marines’ lumbering way of warfare was ill-suited to this kind of battle. The cultists were fighting out of fear for their very lives, the flying monstrosities above them sending many of them into blind panic. The pestigors fared better, albeit only slightly, their natural ferocity and hardiness giving them an edge in the fight against the Imperials.

He could see the battle unfolding from his vantage point atop the stairs of a large complex. This was the last line of defence before the citadel itself, and by the look of things, the Imperials were going to get there sooner rather than later.

Anlock turned to a cultist to his side, who was frantically working on a vox unit. “Any word from our allies?”

The cultist looked at him nervously, his face locked in a terror-stricken expression. “I can’t reach them, Lord. There’s some sort of interference blocking the signal!”

Anlock cursed, venting his fury on one of the beasts circling overhead. One of his bolts clipped the beast’s wing, sending it sprawling to the ground. With some satisfaction he saw a group of cultists throw themselves on the wounded animal and its rider, cutting into the flesh of both with crooked knives and blades.

Still, doubt nagged at his thoughts. He knew that the Imperials were probably jamming the vox traffic, but that did not explain the citadel’s silence prior to the attack. This was clearly a planned attack by the Imperials, so why had he not been warned about it?

He took another look at the battlefield, seeing the Imperials push deeper and deeper into the city with every passing minute. It was time to take matters into his own hands.

He signalled five of his plague marines to follow him and ordered the rest of them to hold their position. He started heading to the citadel, and prayed to the Grandfather that he find answers there.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

++Hive Cogger, Citadel++
++One and a half hour after wall breach++


The square before the citadel's entry was a hive of activity, cultists carrying heavy weapons and munitions scrambled in all directions, desperately erecting barricades to hold off the impending attack. Kusun and his men stormed into the square at the exact moment Brother Anlock and his escort appeared at the opposite side.

The battle was going on bad on all fronts, apparently.

The two groups of Astartes met in the middle, neither greeting the other with more than a curtly nod. The time for pleasantries had long passed.

"I see you have not fared much better against the Imperials", spoke Anlock, as he walked next to Kusun and Mithras towards the citadel's main entrance.

Kusun merely grunted angrily. He was in no mood to talk, especially not with the followers of the Plague Lord.

"They hit us sooner than expected", replied Mithras, ever the more diplomatic of the two Black Legion officers.

"No. The warning came too late", Kusun grumbled, his anger lending more speed to his steps.

"And I intend to find out why."

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was oddly quiet in the citadel's halls, most of its defenders currently busy with preparing the exterior defences for the inevitable assault that was certain to come sooner rather than later. Only the Astartes' heavy footsteps echoed through the structure as they made their way to the old governor's personal chambers, which had served as the cultists' command post ever since the Hive had been conquered. None of the Astartes spoke, each caught up in their own thoughts on this mess of a battle.

Despite the rage that flowed hotly through his veins, Kusun couldn't help but notice the obvious absence of the Flayed Lord's lackeys. The well-trained Drachen that had followed Father Lazarus everywhere he went, were now nowhere to be found. His humours soured further as the truth became more evident, and he could tell that those following him had reached the same conclusion as well.

Finally, they reached the spire's upper levels, only to be greeted by the emotionless face of a Necron Praetorian standing before the closed doors of the Governor's chamber. A loud screaming could be heard coming from behind the old oakwooden doors, interjected by the sound of breaking glass and tumbling furniture.

The Necron said nothing as Kusun and Anlock passed him. It already knew why they were here. It also knew that the Astartes needed to confirm their suspicions for themselves.

As the two Astartes entered the room, they were greeted by the sight of a single man wearing a white mask howling incoherently as he ripped and tore the chamber apart. The shattered remains of ornate vases and ancient chairs lay in heaps around the screaming cultist, who seemed fully oblivious of their presence.

Kusun, recognizing him as Mordecai, one of Lazarus' lieutenants, barged over to him and grabbed him by his collar, raising the protesting cultist into the air until the porcelain mask was mere inches away from his own face.

"Where is the Father!", bellowed Kusun, the power of his voice nearly puncturing Mordecai's ears.

"Take a guess, gene-breed!", Mordecai cursed back, trembling with barely restrained anger in Kusun's fists.

Kusun snarled and threw Mordecai into a wall, storming after him only to raise him back into the air, this time by his throat.

"Speak, worm, before I choose to end your miserable life! Where is Lazarus?!", Kusun shouted, squeezing the mortal's neck hard.

Mordecai grasped for air, desperately trying to pry the armoured fingers off his neck.

"If I knew, I wouldn't be here, don't you think?", he panted, struggling to get air into his bruised lungs.

Kusun scowled, dropping Mordecai to the floor. There, the cultist started sobbing, his mind clearly broken by the unexpected betrayal.

"He left me... After all I did for him, he leaves me here with the vermin... I even took the mark! I had been chosen, no, destined for greatness! The Flayed Lord-"

"The Flayed Lord has left you to die", Kusun interrupted the man's ranting.

"Your precious Father has left us all to die. But I do not intend to die here", Kusun spoke, the anger dissipating in his body as he walked back to the door.

Anlock turned to Kusun as the Black Legionnaire passed him. "We have Thunderhawks stationed on the landing pad. We can use them to make our escape."

Kusun paused at the door, and nodded. Anlock ran out the door and started to guide the others down the stairs. Soon, only Kusun and Mordecai remained.

Kusun picked up a sword that lay on the floor of the room. It was Mordecai's, who had thrown it against the door in his rage. The cultist still sat against the wall on the other end of the room, sobbing quietly.

"You can still serve, mortal", Kusun spoke softly, walking over to the crouched cultist. "Pledge yourself to the Blood God, and be elevated in even in death. All you have to do is take the blade."

Mordecai looked at him hesitantly, looking at the sword that was offered to him, and the inevitable fate that came with it.

Desperation can make even the worst choice easier.

His hand grasped the blade by the edge, cutting his flesh in the process. As the blood ran darkly over the worn steel, he felt the Blood God's power burn in his chest.

"You know what you must do", Kusun spoke for the last time, as he turned around and headed for the stairs.

Mordecai looked at the blood on his blade, and knew exactly where he needed to go. He picked himself up from the floor and stumbled towards the holding area where the psykers were held.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

++Hive Cogger, Citadel Landing Pad++
++Two and a half hours after wall breach++


The landing pad was under heavy attack when the group of corrupted Astartes and Necron Praetorians reached it after traversing the myriad halls and passages of the citadel. Imperial aircraft and strange dragon-like beasts zigzagged between bursts of flak and tracer fire, unleashing their deadly payloads on the citadel’s defenders before taking to the skies again for another attack run. Part of the landing pad was already on fire, the flames licking hungrily at the hulls of a trio of Thunderhawks that stood nearby. A group of cultists was desperately trying to put out the fire surrounding the smouldering ruins of a fourth Thunderhawk, occasionally ducking for cover as an Imperial fighter strafed above them.

Kusun’s Storm Eagle was nowhere in sight. Kusun assumed it had already taken off to engage the enemies circling around the spire, which he would have approved of had he not been in need of immediate transport. Especially since the Imperials’ jamming devices prevented him from contacting the pilot, which left him with little choice but to go with the Nurglites.

“The Thunderhawks are ready! Get aboard before we all join the Dark Powers in the Warp!”, shouted Anlock over the screeching sound of aircraft swooping in for a bombing run.

The group broke out into a sprint, Necron and Astartes alike trying to reach the waiting Thunderhawks in one piece. Assault craft roared above them, wreaking havoc on the landing pad with stubber rounds and bombs. Two Necron warriors fell to the floor, their shells perforated by a hail of bullets from an Avenger Strike Fighter, while three Black Legionnaires disappeared into thin air as a well-placed bomb landed between them. More of the group fell to the merciless strikes of the Imperials picking on them like vultures, but Anlock, Kusun and Mithras thundered forward, heedless of the casualties, their minds only focussed on the Thunderhawks nearing them with every step.

Only half of the group made it to the Thunderhawks’ ramps, the last of them had barely stumbled into the transports before they took off into the skies. Kusun and Mithras slumped against the cold steel wall, while Brother Anlock and one of the Necron Praetorians took the seats opposite them as their Thunderhawk powered out of the burning wreck that was Hive Cogger, where other events had been set in motion…

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As the three Thunderhawks flew out of the city, a group of Eldar slinked into the shadows, heading silently towards a tunnel complex that would lead them out of the Hive as well. The Primordial Annihilator would be defeated here, and that, for the moment, sufficed. They would deal with the Imperials soon enough.


Spoiler:
So, here it is, the wrap-up of the Chaos forces' perspective on the climactic battle at Cogger, clocking in at around 2500 words. I hope that this brings a satisfying conclusion to the whole Cogger situation, and that I've done the forces present some justice. Part of this post is of course dedicated to EyeOfNight, whose characters have played an important role in this Hive's demise, and, who knows, may return one day to tie up the loose ends I've left hanging


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/08/22 01:22:00


Post by: Sgt. Vanden


“Scylla Two, how’s my vector lookin from back there?”
“Scylla Three, vector is lookin fine back here, why we out here by the way?”
“We're killing heretics, what else?”
“You think we have enough for the mish?”
“It'll be enough. We're not levelling the place, we're just showing them what we can do.”
“We’ll be back to give em seconds, for sure.” The three pilots shared a laugh. Banter while flying was common within the Gorgons. It eased the mood, and usually gave them something to talk about once they got back. Command issued a search and destroy order for the forces of chaos that assaulted Dorn’s Shield. That order was being carried out by the three Valkyries remaining at Dorn’s Shield, as the other seven were off transporting troops from the Gorgon H.Q. to Dorn’s Shield.

Eirine leaned on the sponson heavy-bolter and sighed. She was thinking about the horrors that attacked Dorn’s Shield. Even in the dark of the night, she still saw their contorted faces, Eirine was knocked out of her thoughts by an explosion very close by.
“This is Scylla Two, port engine has sustained damage from something. Altitude is dropping. Prepare for emergency landing, I repeat, prepare for emergency landing.” The entire Valkyrie buckled as the pilot wrestled with the controls, trying to regain control. She held onto the heavy bolter and much as she could, but spared a glance at the other gunner, Corporal Pablo. There was another crash, and the Valkyrie buckled to the side. She spared a glance back at the smoking wing, and thought ‘Odd. Where’s the wing?’. She was right. The wing had torn itself from the Valkyrie, and thus causing it to lose altitude at a far greater speed. The pilot did all he could, but the Valkyrie started its nosedive. Eirine could only watch in horror as Pablo was sucked out of the hatch, and plummet to his early grave. Eirine could feel her grip, and her consciousness slipping. It was only a matter of time until they hit the ground. Only a matter of time until they died.
She was right.
It was only a matter of time until they hit the ground.

Eirine woke up to a hand covering her mouth. At first she struggled, but slowed down after the hand eased itself off her mouth. The pilot looked at her with caring eyes, and slowly attached a rebreather to her helmet.
“It’s alright, you’re alive, but we have to get out of here.” He whispered to her. She noticed that his las-pistol was in his other hand, and aimed directly at the open wilderness outside the safety of the downed Valkyrie. “Vox unit is fethed, don’t expect to get picked up. C’mon, we gotta go. The crash might’ve been heard, and Emperor knows what’s out there.” Eirine weakly nodded and tried getting up. She immediately regretted it as her left arm exploded in pain. All she let out was a grunt of pain and glanced at it. A bone was sticking out from where it obviously shouldn’t be, and she couldn’t feel a finger. It was her favourite finger, she mused to herself. She smiled at the pilot as he fixed a re-breather onto his own. Now that she thought about it, this was the first time she had seen him without his mask on in the entire twenty seven deployments she had been on with him. He helped her up, and eased her broken arm over his shoulder.
“Easy there Will, I’m not as tough as I look…” She winced as the pain almost became unbearable. He did as she said, and wince after wince, she finally stood. He helped her out of the Valkyrie, still with one of her arms around his shoulders.

The long walk back began.

Spoiler:
So, after two months to the day, I finally get this out. I have zero clue as to why it took me so long...


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/08/23 17:42:38


Post by: Sgt_Smudge


Vandred felt the jostling of the Chimera as it trundled over the cracked road. His arse hurt, banging up against the barely-padded seating. The looks of annoyance from the Gue'vesa accompanying him told him he wasn't the only one with a sore bottom.

"Hey!" Vandred called into the driver's seat. "Can't you be a little more careful with this hunk of junk? My arse is sorer than a grox's temper."

The driver, Wires, retorted "I said I could hotwire them, not drive them! Gimme a locked door and a bobby pin, and I'll have that open in a jiffy, but I ain't no treadhead."

Vandred sighed and endured another bump. Hound, the mercenary leader, fought to restrain a grin.
"It's almost as if you've never experienced the joys of Imperial Guard tanks, Sub-Commander." he leered. "Years of riding these beasts makes you tough."

"That may be true, Hound," Vandred said. "But I'd take a Devilfish or Orca over this a thousand times over."

"You're a Gue'vesa, huh?" The driver raised his voice above the roaring engine. "Well, do Tau girls have-"
"Wires, don't cross it." snapped Hound. "These are our employers, and they're paying good. I won't have your crude remarks jeopardise this mission. Otherwise, I'm leaving your sorry arse to kill the PDF leader alone."
Wires returned to the controls, grumbling.

The lead Chimera in the stolen convoy was crewed by Captain Nassau and a team of elite Tiller veterans - men taken from the PDF, deserted Guardsmen, tough farmers - strong sons of Crion all. The other Chimera housed Vandred, his Gue'vesa specialists, and Hound's mercenaries. All of the troopers wore stolen Blood Fort uniforms, either recovered from the initial siege of New Pavus, or from the newly dead ones of the previous owners of the Chimeras.

Tiller intelligence had intercepted a pair of Chimeras, containing Blood Fort reinforcements, coming to reinforce the depleted New Pavus garrison. With a matter of hours to spare, a mock checkpoint had been set up along the road to New Pavus. As Captain Nassau engaged in conversation with the Chimera driver, the rest of the taskforce snuck round the sides of the stationary Chimeras. When Nassau opened up the troop hatches to "do a check on the men inside", they were greeted by Vandred's men, firing indiscriminately into the packed troop bays. Their naked corpses were left at the roadside, and the checkpoint razed to the ground as they left. The stolen Chimeras continued on the road to New Pavus, their mission clean and simple.

A vox message came through from Nassau's Chimera. Vandred put it through to the whole vehicle.
"++We're approaching the North Gate now. Make sure you look convincing.++"

"Of course we do," Vandred scoffed. "We only need to hide the Ratling, and put on our gasmasks. It'll be fine, friend."

Hustle, the Ratling in question, shot Vandred a filthy look as he scurried under the seats, his needle rifle tucked in beside him. The rest of the men inside slid gasmasks over their faces to hide the shrouds over their mouths. They wouldn't be keeping the masks on throughout the mission, but the shrouds were essential. A single glimpse of any of the Gue'vesas' or mercenaries' faces would have them plastered all over Imperial posters.

"++Van, you're far too relaxed about this." warned Nassau. "This isn't just some PDF colonel or major. This is Rodrick Payne we're trying to assassinate. The Planetary Governor's nephew, and heir apparent. He dies, and the governor is left with two nephews and a niece, all unfavourably looked at. And he won't want that one slightest bit.++"

Vandred looked over to Hound. The mercenary leader grinned.
"Finally, a decent target. Bring it on."

Vandred echoed to Nassau. "Bring it on."

-----------------------------------

The pair of Chimeras passed under the North Gate of New Pavus. PDF troopers passed alongside the tanks, toting dataslates, carrying munitions and crates, some on patrol. Vandred saw nothing, other than the few glimpses he could see from the camera monitors in the driver's seat. The rest of the men inside the tank either kept their heads down, in silent prayer, or like the Gue'vesa, checking their gear and adjusting their gasmasks. Hound just stretched, and tested the handle of the massive broadsword on his back. Blood would be spilled. The first Chimera pulled to a halt, and Wires brought the second to a jarring halt. The Chimeras were clamped, and the inspection began.

A pair of PDF troopers sauntered over to the first Chimera. Vandred heard them speaking to the driver, followed by the sound of the Chimera's doors being opened up.
"Just routine inspection, can't have no rebels getting in here - you know the drill."

Silently, Vandred swore. He just hoped the gasmasks would bypass security. The two PDF troopers passed on to the second transport, letting Nassau's Tillers disembark and gather their things. As they spoke to Wires, Nassau whispered to Vandred into his earpiece.
"++There's just a pair of them. Just a quick check, you should be fine - if it goes south, my boys are ready to fight and break towards where Rodrick should be.++"

The Sub-Commander sent two bursts to confirm the message, and listened out for the PDF soldiers. Their footsteps passed right behind him, and he caught a few sentences of their conversation.
"-was on far better jobs than this back on transfer."
"Ha! You were transferred to the Charadon System post-battle - you got to clean up rogue Ork warbands."
"Damn straight. Where did you get landed?"
"I got landed on Fraklygg to train feral worlders. God-Emperor, that was tedious."
There was a brief knock on the rear hatch, and the ramp opened up. Sunlight streaked in, and Vandred felt the glare break on his gasmask. The two PDF troopers looked at eachother, confused and gone out.

"Look lads, we get the joke, and we know you're all ugly sons-a-bitches, but we won't judge. Pop them masks off."

No-one moved. They hadn't planned for this.

"Seriously. Pop those masks off so we can check you. Or we blow them off you." They reached for their lasguns held on their straps. "You. With the broadsword. Take that mask off now."

Hound sighed, stood up, and removed the gasmask. The PDF troopers seemed to relax.
"Good - that wasn't so hard, was it?" He turned away, muttering something about "damned Blood Fort bastards". The other one shone a torch into Hound's face.

"Hey, I know you from somewhere. Come a bit closer?" Hound prowled forward, his face barely restraining a feral snarl. "Wait, I know you! You're-"
Hound grabbed the man's neck with lightning fast reactions, and broke it in one swift motion. He fell limp to the ground, his torch falling loose in his grip. The other PDF officer fumbled for his lasgun, only to stare down the muzzle of the mercenary's bolt pistol.
"Your worst nightmare." Hound snarled, and pulled the trigger.

The sharp crack of the bolt pistol caused pandemonium. Nassau's Tiller troops unleaded volleys of pulse fire into the scrambling PDF ranks. Vandred's Gue'vesa hopped out of the Chimera, adding their guns to the enfilade. As PDF soldiers rushed to defensive positions, Hustle, the Ratling, sniped out vox arrays and emplaced weapons. Hound led the mercenary squad, his bolt pistol cutting down any soldiers too stupid to get into cover. Wires hopped into the cupola of the Chimera, and started laying down heavy bolter fire into the PDF troops.

Vandred slid up to Nassau, hunkered down by the side of a Chimera.
"What's the plan, Cap?"

"Agents inside the city told us Rodrick was holed up in a penthouse a few blocks from the entrance! It's low-tech, to make it more inconspicuous - we should be able to cut the PDF off before they get there!"

Vandred shouted over the gunfire into his vox link.
"Pull away, we're here for Rodrick! Nassau, your Tillers form the rearguard, Hound, take your mercenaries and you and my men can take the van - move out!"

-----------------------------------

"Harding, give me a report. What's going on at the North Gate?"

The Scion sighed. Rodrick Payne hadn't moved from his chair overseeing New Pavus. His eyes were fixed on the North Gate, watching the smoke drift up. Every now and again, when Rodrick thought it was all over, the sound of gunshots would echo up to the penthouse. The panicked civilians had fled, avoiding the gunfight between the Tiller insurgents and Crionian PDF. So far, it was impossible to tell.

"Sir, I must advise caution-" began Harding, before Rodrick cut him off.
"Reports please. I must have reports, so I may send them to my uncle."

Harding reeled off a list of references from a dataslate.
"'Assault began at 13:53. Two Chimera class transports were inspected, containing roughly two squads of Tillers wearing Blood Fort uniforms. Bolt weaponry used, but it's unclear if it was the Chimera's turret mount, or a smaller weapon. All vox casters were disabled in the attack, prompting a slower response from other patrols. Major casualties on PDF forces at incursion, with only three recorded kills on Tiller forces. They vanished into the city after their pursuers fled. Four patrols haven't reported back.' Sir, if I may actually speak?"

"Yes trooper?"

Harding cleared his voice, and used the tone he would use to talk down aggressive Commissars.
"Sir, this position is not safe. I must escort you to the Scion barracks at once, where we can better defend you."

Rodrick scoffed. "Harding, you're a good man - I appreciate the concern. But these are just Tiller rebels! My personal guard should stop them in their tracks, or at least buy me the time to escape. Your Scions weren't able to kill O'Connell and end this mess. Why should I trust in your skills?"

"If you'd actually given us support and let us do our job instead of babysitting inferior troops-"

"Is that insubordination, Trooper? I'll have you-"
"-shut up."
"Did you-"
"Shut up!"
"PRIVATE-"
"SHUT UP!" Harding screamed.
Rodrick closed his angrily twitching mouth, and heard gunfire and screaming from inside the penthouse.
The screams of his honour guard.

-----------------------------------

Vandred battered aside the guardsman. His superior combat training overpowered Payne's so-called elite's, as left him sprawling. A burst of pulse rounds to the chest kept the guardsman down. Around him, the mercenaries and Vandred's Gue'vesa troopers were storming the building, firing close-range volleys at Rodrick's honour guard. They had discipline, Vandred noted. They held the position well, using the main staircase upwards as a bottleneck. Of course, with two of the Pathfinders holding back and marking the targets, their cover was slowly being reduced by the advanced Tau targeting matrix. The mercenaries were far less subtle.

Hound's bolt pistol punched clean through the armour of the guardsmen, leaving them reeling and falling off the parapets. Others which got too close felt the bite of his massive broadsword, lopping limbs clean off in brutal melee.
Others toppled down, sniped by Hustle's needle rifle. Blood dribbled from crisp, clean headshots.
Vulture, the assassin of team, leapt between cover, her lithe Kroot body dodging lasbolts and hurling tomahawks at the PDF.
Wires simply kept blasting away with his plasma pistol, keeping the honour guard in cover. He may have been unable to hit, but plasma bolts were a hell of a deterrent.
The last member of the merc team just crouched down behind cover, keeping her head down, and eyes shut. Her limited psychic energies needed to be channeled, but when active, Smoke's abilities were a force to be reckoned with. At Hound's command, she swept the room with unnatural fog and dust, sending the overtaxed guard detail into cover. The battle quickly turned from a last stand to a hapless slaughter.

Through the smoke, Vulture bounded up the stairs, her billhook slicing through cowering guardsmen. She was a revenant, an avian bringer of death. Hound was far less subtle. His massive bulk loomed over the hapless honour guard, and they barely had time to scramble away before his broadsword cleaved them in two. All the whilst, Vandred and one of his men marked any targets that tried to flee, and watched as they were shot down by the other Pathfinders. When Smoke dissipated her powers, the hallway forward was a bloody mess.

The Tillers, who had been fighting the rearguard, pulled into the building. They fired a few punitive rounds down the street, keeping the patrols off them a bit longer. The Imperial patrols had caught up to the team, trading lasfire down the street. In the scant cover, the only thing Nassau's men could do was try and keep the Imperials back. Bodies of a handful of Imperials lay sprawled on the pavement, but many Tillers had been killed in the defence. They numbered only four of the original ten.

Nassau pulled on a cord, and steel shutters fell over the windows and doors - they had put a few more minutes between them and the Imperial hunting teams. With a wordless command, Nassau ordered the team to advance upwards into the penthouse.

-----------------------------------

"They're in here." Nassau whispered.
The fireteam were stacked up against the corridor walls. Vandred and Hound were at the door, listening to Nassau.
"Who's breaching?" Hound muttered.
"We'll assign a number from one to three between us, and one of my men will choose a number. Whoever's number is picked goes in first."

They muttered amongst themselves, and Gue'vesa'la Blayke held up two fingers. Hound and Nassau looked over at Vandred, who grinned.
"Honour's mine, boys."

The Pathfinders double-checked their carbines and readjusted their shrouds. Blayke placed a fusion charge on the door, and prepared a marker grenade. It was a specialised instrument of the combat cadre - short ranged and only throwable, but perfect in marking targets before clearing rooms and suchlike. Vandred pulled out his pulse pistol and combat blade, and nodded at Blayke. The Pathfinder activated the fusion charge and tossed the grenade through the door.

The plasteel door shattered, blown clean off it's hinges into the room. Chips of debris rained down from the ceiling, and smoke flooded the room. Panicked lasfire lanced through the smoke, carving bulletholes into the walls. Blue bolts of pulse fire silenced the lasguns one by one, the marker grenade lighting up the elite guard for the Pathfinders. When the smoke cleared, Rodrick rose from his desk. His honour guard were slumped up against the walls. Their blood painted where they died.

Vandred grabbed Rodrick by the collar, and dragged him towards the balcony. His pulse pistol shattered the glass door outside. The wind picked up, whipping Vandred's dark cloak around the two. Rodrick was stammering helplessly, struggling in Vandred's grip. His pleas fell on deaf ears. The Gue'vesa shoved the man at the edge of the balcony.
"This is necessary, Rodrick Payne," he spat. "You must die, for the good of the Tillers." He looked back at Nassau. The Tiller captain nodded curtly.

Rodrick begged. "No, please, I-"
He flailed wildly, and grabbed at Vandred's shroud.
Vandred gave Rodrick a sharp shove.
The railing broke, and Rodrick fell.

As the man plummeted, Vandred felt the wind on his face. Confused, he touched where his shroud should have been. Nothing. Too late, he saw his shroud in the hand of Rodrick Payne, broken into pieces on the streets of New Pavus. Rodrick's body gave the Sub-Commander relief.
The mission was complete. Payne was dead, the PDF morale would be broken, and the governor was left without their favoured heir.
Success.

He turned to leave the room, and saw the Scion lining up at shot at him from behind the door.
"Sir!"
A Pathfinder leapt in front of the hotshot round. His light armour was no protection, and he skidded to the ground, a hole torn into his chest. The Scion tried to take a second shot, but Hound leapt upon the man. The big man smashed the Scion to the floor, beating him down with his fists. A sharp stomp to the Scion's head broke his helmet. A pair of widening eyes looked up at Hound as he plunged his broadsword through his skull. Hound wiped the blade clean, and looked at Vandred's exposed face.

"We need to get clear. Now."

-----------------------------------

The route back was somewhat easier. Grenades strung up by the Tillers as they had approached Payne's penthouse exploded harmlessly in the streets, drawing patrols of PDF units to the explosions. There were no firefights, no run-ins. Vandred was glad about that, at least. Two of his Pathfinders had died, alongside most of the Tiller troops. He also had his exposed face to worry about.

He felt distinctly naked without something covering his face and beard. The Scion had seen him. And although he knew that dead men couldn't talk, something felt wrong about the situation. Something had gone wrong.

As the remnants of the fireteam approached the Highknight Wall to rendezvous, a Valkyrie's spotlight passed in front of them. The team ducked behind disposal bins and doorways, hugging the cover available. Vandred dared to glance upwards at the slow-moving vehicle. A squad of Scion troopers scanned the streets beneath them, their legs hanging lazily from the troop bay. Dimly, Vandred caught some of their chatter over the hum of the Valkyrie's engines.

"He's really dead then?"

"Rodrick? Yeah. No-one could survive that fall."

"Good riddance. Fool didn't know how to handle us Scions." There was a slight pause. "Hey, doesn't that make our CO the ranking officer?"

"I guess. I mean, the PDF will be demoralised as hell, and the governor will be mighty pis-"
The Valkyrie passed on, dragging the searchlight with it.

The fireteam moved on, sidling up to the abandoned Highknight Wall. At Nassau's command, rappel lines were cast over the wall, and the assassination team disappeared into the streets of southern New Pavus.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/08/27 16:59:12


Post by: Irishpeacockz


Varius’ hands instantly rushed to his gaping throat as his blood sprayed all over Mason and the floor dripping through the grated flooring and into the gushing waters below. Mason stepped back in an attempt to avoid the red tide but was too late, covered in crimson he proceeded to wipe his crude weapon with whatever rags Varius wore and slipped it into his pocket, saving it for later use. A rumbling sound from the ladder told Mason that his companion had reached ground level, surveying the scene one final time and checking to ensure he did not leave any prints or a trail Mason closed the door to the ladder in on himself and began to climb, the ladder was old, the bolts keeping it attached to the wall were rusted and Mason felt that if he pulled hard enough they would give way and send him plummeting back into the darkness and captivity, putting such thoughts to the back of his mind he soldiered on reaching the top. He took the outstretched hand that offer to help him up and we surprised by the strength she wielded, as soon as he was out she slid the manhole back over the hole carefully as they were directly underneath the walls of the Blood Fort, spotlights swayed over large empty fields where the trees had been cut back, chattering of the men manning the walls could be heard from above

“Did ya hear about Harry Buckland ?”

“That pig ? No what about him ?”

“Stupid bastard lost his keys, Emperor knows where they are now”

“The Sarge will be livid, he’ll have Harry on the night shifts for months”

“Fine by me but if any of those sacks of meat got their hands on them we may have bigger problems”

“Huh, leave them, been too long since the last manhunt let them run i’d happily gun …….”

The voices trailed off as the two troopers patrolled back along the wall, The woman turned to Mason and pointed towards a distant treeline

“Thats where we will be going, as soon as the spotlights passed by we sprint hard, don’t stop and don’t look back even if they shine a light on you keep moving”

Eying the spotlights Mason nodded his head “Gotcha”

The blinding spotlight scoured the empty fields before passing them by, the woman burst into a sprint whom was quickly followed by Mason, the grass was long and uncut making it difficult for Mason to move as quickly as he like, he was panting hard and he did not have much energy left and he was starving. The treeline was looming towards him with each passing step, he would be free soon. His mind wandered to what would happen next, does his mission still stand ? Or is this a chance for a new life ? No he told himself, no doubt the Plague Pigeons would be searching for him and he had seen what Garathal does to deserters ….

Suddenly his shadow was projected in the grass as a blinding white light shone on his back followed by sounds of sirens and both men and dogs barking, the Blood Fort was mustering up for a manhunt. He picked up his pace and finally reached the woodlands, looking up he could just about see his fellow escapee and trudged on to try and keep up with her, the spotlights tried to illuminate the woods but the foliage was too thick with only streams of light penetrating the thick canopy. Long grass turned into slippery mud which did not help Mason much although it did allow him to catch up to the mysterious woman, breathing heavily Mason managed to get out a few words in between he gasps for air

“Where are we going ?”

She wiped some sweat from her forehead before answering “To the coast, we have sympathisers there”

Mason played dumb “Sympathisers ? for what ?”

She stopped at a clearing looking left and right as if lost “Not now !” she turned left decisively “This way”

Barking echoed in the distance which encouraged Mason to push on after the Tiller, “They got hounds on our heels !”

She did not break her stride, she did not even turn around, “Then move your ass !”

The pair came to a little stream where the woman stopped, “Quick, wash your boots we can break the trail”

Mason collapsed into the water dumping his head in, and gulping down as much as he could

“We ain’t got time for this, come on !” her patience obviously wearing thin

“Fine, fine” Mason swirled his boots in the water while the woman crouched behind a nearby tree, turning too late Mason saw a brown flashby followed by snarling. Two hounds had locked onto the woman’s thigh and her arm, Mason’s survival instinct kicked in and he bolted across the stream leaving her to her fate, yet something felt wrong, his heart was telling him to go back, making a split second decision he grabbed a stone and jumped back across the stream and bludgeoned the dog on her thigh caving in its skull and pushing its slumped body out of the way, he turned to the other hound the throw his body behind a swift kick to the dog's midsection sending it flying off the Tiller. The dog wasted no time and lunged on its new attacker sending both Mason and the mongrel sprawling into the stream, Mason braced the dog off with his forearm and fumbled with his free hand for the bolt, his fingers clutched the metal head and plunged it into the dog's stomach and ripped upwards. The stream turned a sinister shade of crimson as the corpses flowed downstream, Mason pulled himself up to see the tiller struggling to apply a makeshift bandage

“Allow me” she studied him a moment before outstretching her mauled forearm, she winced from the pain as Mason tightened the bandage.

“You ran”

Mason nodded “I did”

“But you came back”

Mason looked her in the eyes a moment “I did that too”

“Why ? you could have made some good distance while I acted as dog chow”

Mason finished the bandage and looked at her again, he contemplated telling her his true feelings about her but he decided to take the easier option and lie “How else would I find your friends on the Coast ?”

She grunted, Mason could see she wasn’t satisfied with such an answer, she stood up and raised his own forearm “Let me look at yours” Mason pulled his arm anyway “No time, troopers can’t be far behind let’s go”

She protested “It could get infected, let me just-” “Nurgle watches over me woman no infection could possibly harm me” Mason thought to himself

“No ! We wasted enough time already, come on”

She said nothing and just jogged onwards, annoyed. “Woman” thought Mason, “now I know why I don’t usually bother with them”

They came to an abandoned Farmstead where the woman led him to a small barn where spiders and rodents have made their home, cobwebs decorated the corners and the scuttling of the rats across the rotten floorboards was unmistakable. Many rusted tools were left lying around and a tractor was parked in one of the corners with a dusty sheet only half covering it, if it started at all it would have been a miracle. She led him to some hay that was left behind

“We rest here, we’ll leave at first light”

She got no complaints from Mason who threw himself onto some rotting wheat bales, she threw him one last look before jumping on a bale of wheat herself, exhaustion took over the pair of them and they drifted off into a peaceful sleep … until they heard barking. Mason was up first daring to open the barn door ajar to see a handful of crimson troopers and more mutts “Great” he muttered. The Tiller was up and looking for another way out, the sun was high in the Crionian sky, they had slept in. Hunger gnawed at Mason’s stomach, it was so loud he worried he would give them away, a light tap on his shoulder distracted him from thoughts
“These boards are rotted, we could punch our way through, we could make some noise though”

Mason approached the back wall of the barn and ran his fingers along its moist surface “Nah this is completely rotted, should crumble easily” taking a few steps back he braced his shoulder and charged into the back wall, running straight through it.

The Tiller emerged from the new exit to see Mason pick himself up from a crusty pile of manure from which hordes of flies soared around, she put her hand to her mouth but whether it was to hold her breath or her laughter Mason did not know “Just go” Mason growled as he brushed off as much gak as possible.

They carefully retreated back into the woods towards the coastline

“Well that was one way to mask your scent” grinned the Tiller

Mason couldn't help but laugh and she couldn’t either, they approached each other as if to embrace but the snap of a twig put both of them on edge as a deer bolted past them, as if it were running from something

“Let’s go” decided Mason, trying to ignore what just might have happened but failed and fantasised anyway

The rest of the journey was taken in silence neither of them wanting to address what just happened. The trees receded and gave way to grass and then to sand as they reached the coast

“We follow the coast to a fishing village half a mile or so and we’ll be good”

“Finally might get a decent meal” Mason moaned

“Or a bath” teased the Tiller

They walked ankle deep in the sea to avoid leaving tracks in the dry sand, this is almost romantic Mason thought to himself, if I did not reek of blood and pig gak. The village soon came into view, there was no armed guards, no watchtowers, no signs of Tiller activity

“You sure this is it ?” asked Mason

“Positive, stay behind me and shut your mouth”

A aged, broad shouldered man emerged from one of the houses with two others flanking him, The man sported a shaved head with a thick, silver moustache and tattoos on his neck suggested military service. He wore a stained white tank top which was more of a grey due to some filth or another, he wore green camouflage trousers which were tucked into black military style boots and had knee pad support on his left leg, a hand cannon hung from his hip.

The Tiller rushed to the man “Kamron !”

“What the-” The man embraced the woman with a confused expression before leaning back to take a look at who he was hugging, his eyes widened “By the Holy Emperor and his sons it’s Tyler’s girl, Lynn Adaso !” he embraced her once again

“How are ya lass ? Last we heard you were captured and dragged to the dreaded Blood Fort”

“I was, but I escaped with the help of emm”

Everyone turned to Mason including Lynn, realising he hadn’t given her a name he spoke up Mason, Mason Lee”

“And what are you doing here lass ? The Tarragon cell was wiped out months ago, I only have a few lads left”

“You have boats and I need to reach my father back in Spiri, would you be so kind as to -”

“Bring you there ? Who am I to resist ? If your father found out I refused he’d have my head” he left out a hearty laugh, “Brent ready a boat we’ll be crossing the ocean” one of the men accompanying Kamron saluted his commander and ran to the sorry excuse of a dock.

“I knew I could count on you” smiled Lynn

“You’d better leave soon, those bloody bastards will have the surrounding coastline locked down if they haven’t already” he turned to Mason and grabbed his hand with a hefty handshake “Thanks for setting her free lad, broke me heart when I heard she was captured”

Mason nodded “Don’t Mention it”

“Now go, and Lynn tell your father I send him my regards”

“Will do Uncle Kamron, stay safe” she blew him a kiss which brought a smile to the old warrior

The boat was a simple thing with room for perhaps six people and a simple engine at the back, it would suffice. Lynn jumped in first “Right come on, i’m sure my father would love to see his daughter’s rescuer”

Mason quickly followed and sat himself down “ Thought you’d said we’d get some food here ?

She threw him some half-eaten, half-rotten fish “Sorry s’all I got at the moment, i’m sure my father will be very gracious though, that is, if you are coming with me, when we reach Spiri you can go where you want”

Mason was quick to answer “Got nowhere else to go”

Lynn began the motor which rumbled to life in a puff of smoke “Good let’s go shall we ?”
Spoiler:
So debating whether to space out my dialogues or not. If anyone has any issues with Tarragon's cell of Tillers being wiped out pm me and I can rewrite it if necessary




Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/08/28 09:15:47


Post by: chazz huggins


Dok Kavorkoz hummed in a gleeful bliss as he conducted himself around his lab. The dok hummed as he searched his clutered desk for his lucky hacksaw. The Dok laughed. “What a lovely day for some surgery wouldn’t you say?”

An ork strapped to a table gave a muzzled yelp in reply. The dok laughed on as he found his saw. “I know right couldn’t agree more, such a lovely day, just you me and da voices. Let’s begin shall we.” The Dok turned and shouted “Oi nurse get in ere.”

A grot orderly wheeled in a cage containing a snarling squig. The red orkoid creature was in a feral rage biting at the wooden bars and frothing at the mouth. The dok leveled the saw to the restrained orks forehead. The ork struggled against the leather restraints as the dok was about to make his first cut. Luckily for the patient there came a knock at the clinic’s door. Kavorkoz looked over to the door and growled “Get lost. I’z workin ere“ The Dok turned back to his patient but as he repositioned his saw the clinic door swung open violently.

Kavorkoz turned to see Nox, Gadnuk, and the warpead Doof standing in his now doorless doorway. Kavorkoz swore a quick zog under his breath before adopting a more pleasant tone “Big Boss, how’s it going.”

Nox entered the clinic looking with disgust and intrigue at the lunatic pain boy’s various projects. Nox spoke brutishly as Gadnuk lifted a preserved squig in a jar “Any word?”

The Dok gulped “We, we had some set back. This git aint so easy to find.”

Nox seized the pain boy by his neck and pinned him against the wall as Nox growled “We had a deal dok, I held up my end by supplyen yer lads now I expect you to keep up yer end.”

Kavorkoz writhed and choked “I swear we’z been tryin, but he’s a right sneaky git. I send mobs searchin fer lead and dey nevah return.” Gadnuk spat “Sounds like an excuse, I hate zoggin excuses.”

Kavorkoz struggled for air and croaked “Let me make it up to you.” Nox gestured at the nob and the ork set the pain boy down allowing him to breath Nox was intrigued “Make it up to me how?”

The dok breathed deeply “A few years back I I got my hands on one of dem old dragon boy dreads. It was shot to zog but wif da help of mek Slabkill I waz able to activate da gubbin. I found some scrawny yoof and walloped im on da ead. It was a right pain to get em in and even arder to get him online. But when he took his first steps it twere a fing of beauty worthy of the name Mad Kan. It was shortly after building Mad Kan that I realized I had no way of controlling it.”

Gadnuk laughed “Who’d a thunk something called a Mad Kan would go crazy.”

Kavorkoz continued. “I couldn’t keep da raging Mad Kan around and I couldn’t destroy it even if I wanted to. I let him go on da Black Sands where he could terrorize humiez all day. Recently I figured out a way to wrangle da beast, you see I made a control rod dat should shackle da creature. I was going to use it myself, but dat grub Zogface Gitburn stole da Rod from me, cuz he thunk it a right shiny bit fer his boss pole.”

Gadnuk rolled his eyes “Why should we care about yer Mad Kan, especially if we have to fight zome arsonist ta get it.”

It was at this time a new ork entered the doorless clinic. A pale green creature dawned in black leather armor with a massive guitar saddled across his back. A crude and simple patch across his chest with the words “DooF” The Doof spoke answering for the psychotic pain boy. “Deez Dragon Boyz were dead ard. Dey say twere dem dat stomped da Black WAAAGH of ThundaGore and da Titan of Lordog. When da Dragons vanished dey left there bones behind and now da rats have come to gnaw at dem.”

Nox was intrigued “You’z sayin our quarry has come ere lookin fer something deez Dragon Boyz left behind?”

The Doof nodded and Gadnuk spoke with some irritation. “Why didn’t you just say that then.”

The Doof scoffed “Its called showmanship.”

Gadnuk laughed “No its called being annoying.”

The Doof grumbled and Nox spoke “Da Doof makes sense, plus if dis Mad Kan is as ard as da dok paints em ta be it should be entertaining at the very least.” Nox turned to the Dok and spoke “We still ain’t even.” The dok rose to his feet and nodded as the orks exited his clinic.

The Dok turned around to his enraptured patient and spoke with a smile “Sorry bout dat bit of bad bidness, right where were we? Oh right cap removal my favorite part.” The dok picked up his rusty crude surgery tools and slowly approached his next victim.

Outside the clinic rested a row of ork choppers, the largest and most intimidating of them was the DoomBlitza. A red beast of steel, with a horned head worked in the visage of Mork at its front. Nox mounted da massive war bike and shouted to his men. “Saddle up ladz we got a Psyka to find.” Nox revved his engine with a mighty mechanical roar and sped off, his advisors and honork guard following soon after.

Spoiler:
Nox is coming for you Sorcerer


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/08/30 23:56:57


Post by: Irishpeacockz


Mason positioned himself back over the side of the rocky boat in preparation for the looming regurgitation that was surging from the pit of his stomach.

“Eating that fish was a bad i-”

Mason’s eyes watered and his stomach churned as watery porridge, mouldy bread and rotten fish all came up in one in a lumpy, creamy fluid which splashed into the churning waters below with some of it decorating the side of the boat that was quickly washed away by the crashing waves.

“Giving you that bucket o’ fish was not one of my best ideas I admit” stated Lynn as she steered the flimsy boat through the rough weather. Mason managed to glare at her before sending his head back over as his throat filled up with the putrid substance.

“Oh don’t look at me like that, I told ya they were rotten !” Mason did not lift his head back over the boat to respond.

“Anyway we’ll hit the coast in an hour or so you’ll be fine once we hit dry land” The rest of the journey was more of the same with Mason’s vomit became more and more liquidised as he body had retched up what little food he had managed to chow down.

Lynn turned off the engine and let the boat drift to the shoreline. The boat gently crashed against the awaiting sand that dutifully moved aside as it ran aground. The beach was desolate with little risk of being seen, to the west laid miles and miles of desolate sand while to the east laid rocky cliff which constantly absorb the assault of the sea. Mason jumped out of the boat first and landed badly sending him sprawling in the sand, Lynn eloquently stepped out of the boat and walked up the beach aways leaving Mason in the sand. Picking himself up and dusting off some sand Mason jogged after her

“I feel better already !” grinned Mason as he put that blasted boat trip behind him

“I don’t know” doubted Lynn “You still look a bit green to me” the two shared a smile before Lynn turned to the east “New Pavus is that way, if we leave now we might make it before dusk”

Mason extended his arm “Ladies first” Lynn snorted and began walking, “I got her” Mason thought “And she knows it”

The city of New Pavus could be seen from miles around with blackened smoke rising from the center of the city and gunshots could be heard throughout the adjacent countryside. The once lush green fields surrounding the city were reduced to a blackened husk where Tillers patrolled weary of an Imperial attack. Two men raised their autoguns unsteadily not actually expecting any action on their shift

“Halt who goes there ?” squeaked a young man

“Lynn Adaso daughter of Tyler Adaso, commander of the Tuk cell”

The two young men looked at each other and chuckled “Ya and i’m Horatio Payne” scoffed one of the boys. Lynn said nothing, did nothing but stare. Thirty seconds passed, a minute, two, with each passing minute the Tillers became uneasy before crumbling

“Alright I’ll call my superior, let him deal with ya”

A round man in an ill fitting uniform strode out to meet them a short while later

“Jensen what is the meaning of this ? i’m to report to O'Connell in less than an hour”

The tiller nervously spoke up “This one claims to be the daughter of Tyler Adaso sir”

The man froze before turning to the trooper “And why in the blazes are you harassing her outside the gates and not escorting her to the command center ?” before the tiller could reply the man turned to Lynn

“My most sincere apologies Miss Adaso but we can’t be picky on who we arm in these trying times, if you would follow me i’ll lead you straight to your father”

“Excellent” smiled Lynn as she walked through the gates with Mason in tow.

Tyler Adaso leaned over a map of the city studying the Imperials movements for a weak link, there wasn’t one. “Bloody Scions” Tyler muttered to himself as he slumped into his chair and lit yet another cigar adding to the thick haze that had enveloped the room. Tyler put down the cigar and rubbed his eyes, he needed more coffee. He hadn’t shaved in a week or so and his facial hair felt coarse to the touch, he pushed his jet black hair out of his eyes which fell just above his shoulders, picking back up his cigar he took a deep puff. Exhaling more smoke into the stuffy room that was allocated to him he picked up his box of cigars and slipped them into the inside pocket of his trench coat. Opening the door to leave for a meeting of the various Tiller commanders Tyler’s jaw dropped along with his cigar as he saw a ghost, his daughter.

Lynn’s eyes watered as she embraced her father who was still shocked beyond words, whether that was due to her emotions or the tendrils of smoke blowing out of the room she did not know and she did not care. Her father smelled of tobacco and aftershave, as usual, Tyler pulled back and managed to compose himself

“Lynn Holy Terra I thought you lost for good”

Lynn smiled “You’ll have to put up with me a while yet dad”

Tyler chuckled “ I think I can live with that” Tyler peered over his daughter’s shoulder “Who’s the boyfriend ?”

Lynn smiled and didn’t bother correcting him “A tag along from the blood fort, seems handy in a fight think you have a use for him ?”

Tyler looked Mason up and down “We could always use more bodies, you know who we are son ?”

Mason nodded “Got a pretty good idea, you are the Tillers, bogeymen, parents tell their children stories about at bedtime”

Tyler chuckled again “True but we ain't exactly hiding anymore, things are heating up around here, once you are in there’s no going back, so whaddya say ?”

Mason took a moment to consider, his mission was getting more and more complicated

“I’m in”

Tyler grabbed him by the hand “Welcome to the cause son, now get yourself to the showers and get yourself a bunk we might be here a while. Lynn come with me, we gotta meeting to head to” Lynn and Mason shared a glance before parting ways which was caught by Tyler. One of Tyler’s cronies showed Mason to the shower and to his new bunk, Mason emerged from the shower to find new clothes and boots on his bed along with a large crate. Opening the crate his jaw dropped as he pawed the hilt of the power sword that sat in the crate alongside a heavily modified autopistol, The sword hummed as power ran along its edge, picking it up Mason spotted a tag attached to the pommel

“I remember my friends and you are pretty up there right now - T.A”











Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/08/31 02:44:14


Post by: Bobthehero


----- Crion, New Pavus -----

Gallus eyes surveyed the city of New Pavus, looking for critical areas and access to the city. He sighed, he had so very little means to lock down the entire the city. There would unseen entryways, for sure, there always were, Scions would have to be deployed to keep an eye out, Blood Fort PDF would have to control access to every gates, critical installations needed guards, counter insurgency was a nightmare. The Valkyrie landed a few minutes after, and Gallus met up with the upper echelon of the Blood Fort PDF. Payne was there, along with a few Lieutenant-Colonels from the unit and a Colonel of the local defence force.

'' Ah! Tempestor Prime, good of you to join us, my forces are already being deployed, I'll leave you to decide where your forces are to be sent, know that all the gates are locked down, a curfew as been established starting at twenty two hundred and my men are scattered around many checkpoints in the city. You should also know that our forces are stretched thin, few troopers on the wall and all that ''

'' Its fine '' said Gallus '' We're not expecting an assault from an external force anyway, it seems the more Chaos-y heretics are stuck in a Hive and the Orks are busy massing a massive army elsewhere, we should be left in peace. As for my troop deployement, I'll have a squad of Scion at each gate helping with the control of the population, every checkpoints will also have a pair of my men to back your PDF. Lastly, I am keeping a reserve force of three hundred Scions with Valkyrie support as a QRF, The rest will lead the snatching missions agaisnt Tiller targets, they'll clear the house and bring you prisoners to interrogate. Anything to add? ''

'' Not much Tempestor Prime, it seems all very sound, my men will do their job ''

The leadership scattered to give out the orders to the men and the briefing was ajourned.



---- Crion, New Pavus, a day later -----

Olaf looked at the PDF squad he was assigned too, they all seemed carefree and relaxed, all the better. Quintos took was talking to a pair of troopers. All of a sudden the man carrying the vox caster jumped to his feet.

'' We got one! Five two three Saint Ruffus's street, move it troopers! ''

Olaf shot a quick glance at Quintos, his rep-mask hiding his confused expression. The other Scion nodded and the pair ran on with the rank and file.

'' What the hell is going on, trooper? ''

'' Buncha traitors in that house right here sarge, we're going to get e'm before they ran for it ''

'' What? We're not even close to start snatching missions! Get back here! ''

But it was no use, the troopers smashed the door aside and began dragging out the panicking civilians. One of the troopers switched off the safety of his lasgun, but Quintos put his armored hand on the barrel.

'' They're traitors! What are you doing? ''

'' Says who, we've been here less than a day, we've barely started getting reliable information and you rush out ready to shoot the first civie that looks at you funny ''

'' We got orders through the vox from our chain of command, it was verified, we're taking them in! ''

Olaf turned to see a trooper smash the face of a relunctant man.

'' No need to beat e'm like that, 'least not until you're sure, all your vehicle and get back to your post. Further snatch missions will be conducted by Scion teams ''

'' If you say so ''



----- Crion, New Pavus, two days later -----

'' I am aware Temepstor Prime, but the Governor Nephew is a very busy man '' said the lieutenant

'' Busy doing what? Shoot random houses on a map and ordering his men to torch them? I barely sent seven team out there and I've done more than what the PDF did. He's going to turn this city on us and create even more opposition ''

'' Yes sir but... ''

Gallus raised his finger and adjusted his earpiece

'' We got another? The Paper Grox? Send two squads, try and get some alive this time, I am aware its usually more troubles than its worth but we need results. Well Lt, this was a pleasant conversation, but I have things to do, I'll be back ''


----- Crion, New Pavus, in front of the Paper Grox library, twenty minutes later -----

The two squads jumped out of their respective Tauroxes and fell into position, splitting into two stacks with a breacher in each. They reached the door only to find it locked.

'' Breacher to the front! '' was ushered from the first man on the stack and the breacher inspected the door. A simple wooden door, locked, no need for explosives, he'd simply smash the thing aside with his ram and let the rest of the stack do their thing. A similar conclusion was reached on the other side and the two breachers coordinated their wrist mounted computers to time their entry right. They smashed the door almost as one and the first stack of each squad rushed into the room, ripping off chunks of the doorway with their bulky carapace armor. Both room were empty, one had a printing press, and the other was the store itself. No living soul could be found.

'' Someone left in a hurry, left us a bunch of pamphlet '' said a Scion

She opened the pamphlet, revealing the picture of a Blood Fort PDF executing a man, the page was also filled with pro-Tiller propagand and anti-Imperium lies.

'' Those idiots gotta be more careful about where they execute the Tillers, this is about as bad as a situation as we can have '' said the Tempestor

'' Agreed, we'll grab a bunch of those and destroy the press, we move in ten, command's not gonna like the idea that the Tillers managed to bug out before we crashed their party ''


----- Crion, New Pavus -----

Narcia looked around her, eyes hagard, most of her squad had died during the Tiller offensive, she had managed to kill one of the bastard and kept his gun as a trophy. She looked up to see a Scion coming her way.

'' Something you want? '' she opened.

'' Heard reports about the guns the Tillers were using, seems you'Re holding one of e'm, we need to figure out what they did to the thing ''

'' Think I broke it when I fought the guy using the damned thing, hasn't fired yet ''

'' Regardless, we can learn a lot from this weapon, hand it over ''

Narcia nodded slowly and lifted her left arm, the stormtrooper picked up the modified weapon and made his way back to HQ. So much for trophies, though Narcia.


----- Crion, New Pavus, Scion command post -----

'' Here sir, found a single weapon used by the enemy, I've seen hit marks and wounds caused by that sir, I'd guess it could penetrate our armor, but I wouldn't bet on it, either ''

Gallus looked at the modified weapon and sighed

'' Can it fire, we'll strap plates on the latest bunch we captured and shoot them ''

'' No sir, the trooper that recovered the weapon said it was damaged ''

'' A shame, start dismantling it, we'll figure this mystery soon enough ''

----- Later -----

Gallus stepped in the armory, where a few Scions were sitting around the dismantled weapon.

'' You asked for me? ''

'' Aye sir, think I've figured out what this is, not sure tho ''

'' What is it? ''

'' Well... Tau tech, the parts that weren't in the lasgun when it was made, at least ''

'' Sure 'bout their origin? ''

'' I compared that to what's written in the reports when we fought e'm, along with recordings of the insurrection we fought on Prima III and the weapons used there, its all eerily similar, except those guys had direct support. These only have mods on their guns ''

'' Could be a cache they looted? ''

'' Of modified imperial weapons? Just like that? Seems to convinient ''

'' Maybe they integrated it themselves ''

'' How? Lasguns aren't complicated weapons, but even guardsmen would struggle to integrate taht kind of tech in their weapons, and I doubt they have many tech-heads on their side, they have their own allegiance... ''

'' So what, it was done by Tau personel? ''

'' Doubtful, there hasn't been any sighting of Tau forces in the area ''

'' Tempestor Secundus Castella mentionned a Kroot, where there's Kroot, Tau aren't far behind ''

'' Usually is the other way around, sir, we saw Kroots operate on their own a few times ''

'' Mhmm, so most evidence points towards direct Tau tempering with these weapons, but not direct support on the battlefield ''

'' Not yet at least, could stay in the back to punch us where it'll hurt the most when it hurts the most ''

'' Agreed, take out as much data as we can from our previous campaigns, battlesuits weaknesses, their weapons, vehicle data we recovered, make sure everyone remembers the setting on the rep-mask we used agaisnt their cloaking armor ''

'' Don't forget the markers sir, that messed us up real nasty in the past ''

Riley nodded

'' Once everything we have is gathered, I'll make a proper briefing and you'll have to make sure everyone is aware of what's going on ''

'' Tau and traitors, sir, we'll need more than PDF to deal with that ''

'' Tempestor Secundus Riley is on his way from his assignement, he'll have a report ready on friendly forces and I'll contact the Guard once I make a decision ''



Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/09/01 16:41:06


Post by: War Kitten


Colonel Vannon was tired and irritable.

He and his men had finally arrived at Hive Cogger after fighting off the massive Ork DreadMob only to find out that their aid wasn't even needed after all! The siege of the massive Hive had been brought to a rather violent end by the Inquisition and Vannon had been informed in no uncertain terms that he and his men were no longer needed at Hive Cogger.

And so that was how he found himself crammed into the troop bay of a Valkyrie on route to the city of New Pavus. The Tillers were apparently starting to have a real hissy fit and were giving the local PDF and the Scions who were also stationed there a real headache. So far they hadn't launched many major attacks, but their presence was impeding the Imperial war effort on this planet, "So" Vannon mused to himself, "it's up to me to show them the error of their ways." He laughed quietly to himself, drawing confused looks from the Chem Dogs around him. Just as he looked up to respond to their looks his vox clicked on and he heard the pilot of the Valkyrie say "We just received reports of a firefight in the city Colonel. I've been ordered to set her down just outside the city. You and your troopers are to head into the city and lend the Glory Boys a hand. Vannon grinned at the news and shouted to the other troopers "Grab your kit boys and girls! We got work to do!" He scarcely noticed the resounding cheer from the troopers as they scrambled to check their weapons and armor, maybe these Tillers would have some good stuff to loot....

As Vannon observed the firefight between the Tillers and the mixed group of Scions and PDF he had to admit that these Tillers weren't as terrible of fighters as he was expecting. Their fire discipline wasn't all that great, but they were sticking to cover like glue, and their sheer weight of fire was doing wonders to keep the Scions pinned in place. "But" he mused to himself as one of the Tillers dropped with a hole the size of a dinner plate burned through his chest "the Glory Boys aren't too bad either". Any of the Tillers who stuck his nose out of cover for more than a few seconds found himself with a hole burned through his head. Finally Vannon had seen enough and he turned and nodded at Sergeant Karly beside him and as one the Chem Dogs rose and opened up on the Tillers. Vannon smiled in satisfaction as he saw the Tillers began to drop rapidly as his attack tore into the rebels exposed flank. It was over in under a minute and as his Chem Dogs began their traditional post battle looting of the event Vannon strode over to where the Scions and PDF were getting back to their feet and he said "Colonel Vannon of the Savlar 5th. I heard you boys needed some help." He knew he must be a sight with his slightly crazed eyes and chem mask on his face, but strangely enough, he didn't care.

Spoiler:
Got a Major Victory on my Tiller sweep and my guys forcibly ended a firefight between the Tillers and Bob's Scions.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/09/01 17:53:03


Post by: Palleus


“From the lightning and the tempest.” A stern voice called over the humm of the valkyrie’s engines.

“Our Emperor, deliver us.” A chorus responded, reverberating off of the walls.

“From the curse of the mutant.”

“Our Emperor, deliver us.”

“From the plague, temptation, and war.”

“Our Emperor, deliver us.”

“From the blasphemy of the fallen.”

“Our Emperor, deliver us.”

“From the begetting of daemons.”

“Our Emperor, deliver us.”

“A morte perpetua, Domine, libra nos.”

“Inimici nostri, perpetua morte moriatur.”

A red light shone above the owner of the stern voice. Closing his prayer book, he fashioned his rebreather mask to his face and removed his hat. Holding the brim firmly in his hand, he stroked the aquilla with his thumb as he strode to the back of the craft, slapping the button to lower the ramp, the valkyrie was soon filled with the sound of whipping air as they flew across the night’s sky. Several other valkyries could be seen as he walked down the ramp, getting as far as he could without becoming subject to the wind.

Turning back to the valkyrie's hold, he surveyed his troops. Clad in black carapace armor with a finely crafted brass trim on the edges, rebreathers on their faces, their helmets were fashioned with sloping armor covering the sides and back of the neck, along with curved crests on top that displayed their noble lineage. The same way the helms of their forefathers’ were traditionally built. they all stood, ready to leap at his command.

The red light began to flash.

“Fight with honor.” He said.

A reminder.

A command.

“For the Emperor!” They called back in unison.

With that, they leapt from the valkyrie.

Wind roared past as they silently fell out of the inky black sky. The ground was barely lit by several fires scattered around the swampland that seemed like tiny dots the the falling scions. One by one, they activated their goggles. The pinpricks of fire turning to near unbearable brightness, and the rest of the landscape becoming clear as day.

Including the heretics.

Marking their targets, the scions waited in silence as the ground approached with dizzying speed. Then a faint whisper sounded in their comms.

“Now.”

The night sky lit up a brilliant blue as the scion’s grav chutes flared brightly. At first, the cultists below were blinded by the sudden light. The scions took advantage of the situation, as bright red bolts soared through the air, cutting down several of the cultists before they could react, the laser energy cutting straight through their vital organs. The stern man landed as well. Placing his hat back on as soon as he recovered from the landing, his hat and his decorative chest plate proudly revealed in the light of the lasfire for all to see what he was.

A lord commissar.

Taking aim with his laspistol, he fired at a nearby cultist who had gathered his wits enough to take aim with his autogun. The lasbolt scythed through the air, striking the cultist in one of his glossy white eyes and slicing clean through the back of his skull.

Soon, the element of surprise was lost, and the cultists ralleyd against their attackers. Autogun fire barked as they took cover, and began a firefight with the scions. Both sides took cover behind the large blocks of rock strewn about the cultist’s quarry, and the lord commissar stepped behind one just as a handful of bullets struck the rock behind where he was, sending a shower of stone over the back of his neck. He risked a look out, locking his eyes on four cultists that were huddled behind a fallen block, pinning some of his men down with constant fire from their autoguns. Slipping back behind his rock, he turned to a trio of his men and gave them a series of hand signals. They nodded.

Bright red hot-shot lasfire cut through the air as two of the scions began peppering the fallen block. The cultists hit the ground hard to avoid the deadly rain, leaving the third sion his opportunity. Crouching low to avoid the haphazard return fire, he quickly closed the distance. The cultists screamed as the scion’s flamer erupted in a tidal wave of orange flame, and the air’s stench shifted from rotting flesh to burnt flesh.

A baritone bellow shook the earth, and heavy footfalls thudded against the ground with worrying speed. Out of the darkness, a creature burst forth. A beast more than man, it stood over seven feet in height with dark horns on its head, and heavy hooves on its feet. It pushed past the darkness, around the massive stone it was hiding behind, and rushed towards the flame wielding scion with more speed than should be possible for something that size.

It swung its weapon, a massive club with rusted metal jutting out in jagged forms, in a wide arc, and struck the scion across the side breaking his spine with a sickening crack. The two scions stood their ground firing their lasguns into the charging beastman. It’s charge did not waiver as dozens of laser energy bolts sliced through the creature.

As the beastman continued to surge forwards, a burst of lasfire struck through his heart, finally causing his stride to slow. With his last moments the beast still lumbered forwards, and swung his club wide as his vision blackened, striking the a large block of stone and cracking it in half with its final breath.

The firefight only continued to intensify, as cultist and scion fired back and forth at each other, both sides now fully entrenched behind their blocks. The lord commissar peppered a nearby group of cultists with his pistol, striking one between the eyes and sending the rest reling back behind their cover.

Over the gunfire the roar of a descending valkyrie could be heard. The lord commissar smiled to himself as he saw the aircraft glide behind the cultists, flanking them, before it spun around to unload its deadly cargo. The cultists barely had enough time to comprehend their new threat before explosive bolts rained down on them.

“For the emperor!”

Justicar Freedman’s voice carried over the battlefield as he charged forwards barraging his foes with a furry of shells from his storm bolter as he lead his squadron of power armored knights. The cultists that exposed themselves as they fell back were quickly cut down by the scions’ lasfire, those that stood their ground met their fate at the ends of the knight’s halberds.

In moments, it was over.

“Justicar Freedman, you honor us with your presence.” The lord commissar said bowing his head as he stood over a rotted cultist.

“Our victory gave great glory to the emperor, Lord Commissar. The honor is shared.” Freedman replied, his brow wrinkling as he surveyed the dead.

“A quarry.” The Lord Commissar stated, finally getting long a look at the battlefield. “An active one, at that.”

“Was active.” Freedman replied, a smile on his face.

“Still, a quarry exists for a reason. And why does one need stone?”

“To build.”

“Exactly. This invasion is meant to last. We need to strike again, and quickly.” He said, turning sharply to his men. “Mount up. Those with flamers, stay to burn the bodies. We cannot allow for their taint to spread any further. As soon as all are in the air, we level the quarry. No more stone will be gathered here.”


Ravens flee the field
Wicked in scorched graves
A red moon rises


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/09/05 13:25:54


Post by: War Kitten


The ritual begins as it always does

I close my eyes as the light begins to dim as the hatch above me slowly closes. Then the whispers begin to course through my mind. The first few times I heard the whispers I was disturbed by them, but now I recognise them for what they are. They are my ancestors, fragments of their souls that persisted inside the Throne Mechanicum during the long centuries, offering advice and information to each new Scion who dons this warsuit. I have little doubt that mine own voice will join the choir one day, and that thought is surprisingly comforting to me. Outside I can faintly hear the chanting of the Sacristans as they continue to go about the business of readying me for war, and I find myself whispering along with them.

I suddenly feel a moment of disorientation course through my body as the final connections between me and my suit are established. I clench my left arm and the massive gauntlet on my left arm begins to open and close experimentally and crackle with barely restrained energy. I then clench my right arm and I hear a series of thuds and whirs as the Avenger Gatling Cannon that forms my right arm in this suit arms itself, and the auto loaders whine to life. Finally, I open my eyes and behold the repair bay through the eyes of my Knight, and I can feel a deep sense of satisfaction pulse through my body as the machine spirit of my suit realizes the importance of the occasion. We are going to war once more. Around me I can now see the massive armored forms of my siblings as they undergo similar rituals.

Even from here I can see my sister Amanda shifting impatiently from one massive armored foot to another. Even before she became a Scion she was impatient, a trait that has been exacerbated by bonding with a Knight Gallant. I smile faintly inside my own armored suit at the thought. To the right of Amanda sits the still form of my brother's armored suit. The complete opposite of his twin sister, Cassius has always displayed a level of patience that is almost supernatural. He was a natural choice for bonding with a Knight Crusader. Finally my gaze turns to my last sibling Sera. Like her older brother she displays a seemingly infinite amount of patience, but underneath that I can see her restrained eagerness to get to grips with the foe. Our involvement in this Crusade thus far has been minimal, to Sera's chagrin, but that is about to change. I have heard dire rumors of more heretics landing on the planet, and I can stand idle no longer. House Valorn will march to war once more.

At my armored feet I can see the form of Captain Falkon as he supervises the end of the Sacristans ritual. He stands rigidly at my feet as the Sacristans bustle around him crazily. Despite his obvious discomfort he remains faithfully at my side. He is a good man, and most likely better than we deserve, but I know we will need him and his strength in the days to come.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/09/05 22:55:42


Post by: Irishpeacockz



The beastman struggled against his restraints as he saw Garathal approach with a rusty scalpel

“Now, now child be still for father, we are doing work for the Plague Lord himself”

Garathal leaned over the operating table and pressed slightly into the Disciple’s forearm drawing blood, the beast began to panick wiggling and kicking his hooves incessantly, Garathal jumped back and cursed

“I tried being nice” spat Garathal “But sometimes children enjoy being naughty, Rhaegos ! subdue him while I insert the toxin”

Putting down his manreaper and emerging from the shadows the terminator armored astartes placed on arm across the subject’s chest firmly. Garathal leaned back in

“Now before I was rudely interrupted”

He placed the scalpel back into the little cut he had made and dug deeper making sure to nick the many veins that ran just below the surface of skin. Blood pumped out telling Garathal he had struck his prize, turning to approach a needle Garathal inspected the serum one last time before turning to his plaything

“This will hurt a little bit child, try not to bit out your tongue”

He plunged the serum directly into the beastman’s exposed vein which caused the subject to almost jump off the table despite the restraints

“Hold him !” urged Garathal as the Disciple began to convulse as his body tried to reject the toxin. After a few minutes the body settled down but stayed deathlessly still, an armored hand stuck a finger under the cow like ears to find a pulse

“He’s alive, bring in the next one and make sure he is sufficiently sedated this time, I don’t want a bloody fight in here” As Rhaegos carried the intoxicated beastman out Apostle Steele entered the room “My lord we have received word from one of your agents in the field, the message awaits with the pigeons”

Putting down the scalpel Garathal swiftly paced back up from from his undercroft back through his study and out into the courtyard. Refusing to climb those bloody stairs any longer Garathal’s voiced boomed up the tower unnerving some of the caged pigeons

“Laeron get down here with that message immediately” frantic footsteps from above told Garathal Laeron heard him loud and clear the scrawny man ran out from his tower with a piece of parchment in his hand

“The message as requested my lord” Garathal eagerly grabbed the piece of paper so quickly he almost pulled Laeron’s arm out of his socket. Garathal read the message and then read it again and then began reflecting on recent events before he was interrupted by Laeron

“My lord there is more”

Garathal barely looked up “How so ?”

“Well actually there isn’t more, that’s the problem”

“Spit it out birdwatcher”

“Greywatch quarry, they haven’t reported in or changed shifts since last week”

Garathal handed the message back to Laeron, and began to think to himself “Enemies are closing in, we will have to proceed more quickly”. He walked up some steps of his Cathedral to elevate himself above his followers

“Children of the Grandfather gather round ! He calls to us once more, he calls to us to spill blood in his name, he calls to us to open the eyes of the populace here of their foolish worship of a being who rots, ROTS on a golden chair, they worship one touched by Nurgle himself ! So grab your arms children, tonight we march, tonight we educate in his glorious name !”


____________________________________________________


Mason threw the rotting bird out of a blown out window sending it back on its way back to his master, “A tight leash indeed” thought Mason as he turned to make his way to one of the many abandoned rooms in the ruined hotel that made up the Tiller HQ in New Pavus. Finding sufficient space he unsheathed the pow- no HIS power sword and studied how the air shimmered around it’s sharp edge. He made a few arcing slashes, working a sword arm that hadn’t been used in years, reworking his muscle memory he began to practise the old techniques and footwork swirling and striking almost like he was dancing. He spotted a blur and came to a stop with the sword pointing directly at the doorway where Lynn stood astonished

“Where did a farmer’s boy learn all that ?”

Mason shrugged “With a pitchfork ?”

Lynn smiled and approached him wiping the sweat from his brow and ran her fingers through his hair before she leaned and they kissed. Butterflies rose in Mason’s stomach as his dreams finally came true, well some of them anyway. Lynn pulled away and placed a finger on Mason’s lips before turning away

“Mason you are a gak liar”

Spoiler:
Update piece for the most part so Mason and Lynn dont completely take Garathal's spotlight











Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/09/06 09:54:16


Post by: chazz huggins


The thunderous roar of the DoomBlitza echoed for miles through the forests Tybalt. Two dozen ork bikers clad in black leather armor and wicked grins rode with reckless abandon through the once serene landscape. At the head of this pack of green skin berserkers was their overlord Nox Warprider. At the rear of the pack was Gadnuk and Da Doof both mounted atop their own personal steeds.

Gadnuk shouted over to the Doof. “I still don’t get why were doin dis. How’s dis gonna elp us find our Psyka?”

The Doof Shouted barely audible over the roar the roar of engines “I told you, dis git iz ere lookin fer artofaks if we can find deez ol bitz den we might find our psyka.”

Gadnuk shouted “How do ya know dat?”

The Doof laughed in reply sped up towards the head of the pack bobbing between two of Nox’s honork guard Da Ladz of Anorky. Gadnuk shook his head and throttled his choppa forward in a vain attempt to catch up with Nox.

As the biker mob thundered through the forest the landscape around began to change. Slowly the lush green forest was being replaced by ash and long dead husks of trees. The orks roared onward snapping decrepit logs like sun dried bones beneath their wheels. Soon the sky was gone replaced by ash, embers, and the smell of smoke. It was undeniably clear that they had entered the domain of the flame boss Gitburn. As they rode on the source of the ashen sky became apparent in the not so far distance they could see a great cloud of black smoke billowing upwards into the gloomy heavens.

The Warboss Zogface Gitburn stood at the head of the massive pyre. The ork warlord wore a metal welder’s mask and a thick leather smock over his olive drab clothing. Three ork boys with their hands tied behind their backs kneeled before him. Surrounding them all was a mob of nearly a hundred ork boyz, acolytes to Gitburn’s cult of flame. Gitburn began speaking

“Today, iz a good day.”

The mob of orks roared in agreement as Gitburn continued.

“We ave ere three of da loony Dok Kavorkoz’s lads. Dey were stupid and got caught tryin to take me Boss Pole.” Gitburn raised a brass staff with his left hand and the green skins began booing on cue. The staff’s head was an inactive tesla coil and a menagerie of other orky gubbins.

Gitburn continued to rant “What else could be expected Deff Skull runts aint ard enough to take it in a propa fight. But deez gitz are about to learn what happens when you try and steal from Gitburn.” The ork hoisted up his signature burna, a massive device who’s nozzle was a jagged metal face of the ork god Gork. The yellow promethium canister that was attached to the back of the weapon was painted with a crude typeface that read “Gork’s Breath”. With a maniacal laugh Gitburn unleashed a geyser of flame on the Deff Skull infiltrators. Gitburn roared triumphantly as his victims squirmed and rolled, he loved to watch them do the burny dance.

Shortly after the flaming ork infiltrators ceased their screaming and squirming Nox and his mob of nearly two dozen ork nobs shoved their way past the gathered crowd of ork boyz. The masked Zogface was not fond of intruders and spoke with little patience.

“Da zog you gitz want, can’t you see we’z in da middle of a show.”

Nox spoke bluntly “You got something that don’t belong to you, hand over yer boss pole and I won’t kill ya.”

Gitburn laughed and raised his welding visor to reveal his hideous wounded face. His skin was charred black and the bone of his skull was clearly visible, that too burned black by decades of pyrophilia. Gitburn laughed rising to his full height of nine feet

“You know who I am. I’m ZogFace GitBurn and I’m da boss of da dead forest not youz. So you can zog off and die cuz dere aint no way I’m gonna let some theving grot like you walk outta ere wif me boss pole.”

Nox growled and reached for the sluga he had holstered but the Doof caught him.

The Doof spoke with a wicked grin.

“Let me handle dis one boss. He ain’t worth yer time.”

Nox released his sluga and spoke

“E’s all yours”

Git burn laughed

“Whats dis den a Goff Rocker? Or some deff skull who finks imself ard?”

With a jerk of his head Gitburn nocked his welders mask back into to place. And hoisted his massive burna and laughed as a torrent of flame rushed forward at the Doof. The doof rolled across the floor dodging the burst of fire. With a swing of his chest his axe swung around him to face his foe. GitBurn pivoted nearly catching his own men with the still gushing flame and faced the Doof. With a quick rift of the axe the Doof dodged the flame and continued to play as GitBurn shouted.

“Hold still and let me cook ya.”
The Doof continued to play and avoid the fountain of flame with uncanny speed. Soon the Doof’s music grew more wild and erratic and so did his movements. In a rage Gitburn charged straight at the Doof with the jagged bayonet of his burna, The Doof continued to play and deflected the lunge with bladed bottom of his guitar. Gitburn stumbled back and growled at the psychic musician.

“I’m done playin.”

Gitburn turned a nozzle on his weapon and squeezed the trigger. A fountain of flame so bright it forced all those in attendace to avert their eyes. The geizer consumed the Doof and engulfed the Doof and all the music stopped. Gitburn laughed as he continued to unleash his torrent of fire. For ten seconds Gitburn hosed the Doof with his fire, then came a noise. A rising crescendo, slow at first then fast and furious. The flames began to retreat as an unburned Doof revealed himself protected by a shield of psychic energy. Gitburn raged and loosened the nozzle even more on the Doof. The Doof in replied played faster and a stream of musical mana beat back the flame. The streams of red fire and green magic fought against each other both. The tug of war came to an end when the Doof struck a power chord and sent Gitburns flames back into the burna. The promethium tank in the burna ignited and exploded sending Gitburn to the ground in a fiery blaze.

The Doof was knocked down by the explosion, he arose slowly using his guitar as a crutch. The Doof walked over to where Gitburn was and saw the explosion had separated his legs from his torso. Gitburn was barely alive, the hideous ork was now an even more horrific. The sight of their mutilated boss was enough to scare off the gathered mob of ork attendants each not wishing to meet a similar fate. Nox approached the near dead GitBurn patting the Doof’s back on his way. Nox got on one knee to look Gitburn in the eye. The former arsonist weakly looked up at Nox. The warprida spat in the dying orks face and began to pry the control rod from the ork’s back. Nox gave it a quick inspection, it should still be functioning. Nox smiled and turned away and raised the control rod victoriously allowing his honorguard to bask in its shiny glory. They roared triumphantly. Nox smiled and tossed the Rod to one of his ladz of anorky. Nox wrapped his arm around the Doof who winced slightly in pain.

“Da Doof did good today. Tonight we drink in his oner.”

The Orks roared and the Doof cracked a grin, “Grog sounds right tasty right bout now.” Gadnuk laughed “You look like your gonna need somfing stronga, I still gots some of dat fungus wizkee.” The Doof laughed “And ere I thought all Blood Axes were greedy.”

As the retinue made their way to their bike Nox turned to Gitburn. His massive eavy Burna was destroyed but still it was of great interest to Nox. The Mek grabbed it and a few stray gubbins that belonged to it. Nox hoisted the so called “Gork’s Breath” and made his way back to the DoomBlitza.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/09/09 19:26:46


Post by: Palleus


IronGore trudged through the jungle, the steady sound of the Iron Horde’s march just behind him. The steady thumping of heavy boots only served to heighten the otherwise silent march. The air was thick with silence as the orks walked for miles on miles without seeing anything close to a threat they could sink their spears into. Gort BadStomp sullenly walked next to Irongore, his mouth, previously flapping about with complaints and ridicule, was thankfully shut with IronGore’s promise to let him kill the first hostile creatures they came across if he did not utter one more word.

So, onward they pressed through the jungle and the silence.

The underbrush moved.

Only a few of the orks caught the movement, but Gort’s impatient eyes caught the motion, and soon the massive nob plowed through the underbrush, sending the intruder crashing down into the dirt.

“Tha’ zog iz yer’ problem, Gort!” Snapped Guts as he picked himself off the ground.

Gort glared at Guts, his eyes conveying just how disappointed he was in the lack of a foe to rip his claws through.

“Guts, did yer boyz find anytin’?” IronGore said as he came up to the other lieutennants.

“Yeah, I did. Tha’ boyz found one a’ tha locals. Says he knows where ‘Tha’ Big Rokk’ iz. Sounds like our metal comet.”

“Good.” Said IronGore as he solemnly nodded. “How soon?”

“In a bit. I got tha’ boyz escortin’ him. Thought I’d come first and share tha’ good news. An it looks like iz a good thing I did, else our guide woulda’ been cut ta’ ribbons.” Guts said as he cast a sideways glare to Gort, to which he simply snorted in return.


* * * * * * * * * * * * *


As the Iron Horde passed through the trees, they came across a land full of unusual holes and mangled trees. Occasionally a tree would twitch on its own, sending the horde shying away from its angry branches.

“Tha’ trees are sure in a mood. Don’ fink ‘dey like tha’ idea a new visitors…” Gort said, his eyes wearily scanning the jungle.

“ ‘Dey jus’ aint quite been tha same…” Spoke their guide, “Since Tha’ Big Rokk came up ‘ere. But ‘dey’re still gettin’, along wit’ us greenskins jus’ fine… So far, ‘dat iz.”

“So far…” Guts echoed as he narrowed his eyes at a particularly gnarly black ore oak.

“We’z ere.”

On those words, the horde came upon a sudden clearing. Most of the trees in the area had either had their tops ripped off, or had been completely torn down by the impact of the Iron Comet. In the middle of the clearing, the comet stood. Halfway buried in the ground, it still towered over the horde in its magnificence, for in every piece of shattered bulkhead, bolt, and wire was the potential for another iron spear, another towering monstrosity of a warmahine, another fortress. The possibilities were endless, and they all had sworn allegiance to the ork that could make the most of those possibilities. And so, for a moment, the Horde stood still, in awe of the towering rubble of rusted promise.

A strange, almost laughing sound broke them from their trance. Their eyes looked towards the base of the comet, and fell upon the source. A strange looking creature, with and odd fur pelt. It snarled and foolishly showed its fangs to the horde as it, again, made the strange laughing sound.

“Now, Gort.” Said IronGore, and without a second’s hesitation. Gort marched forwards, his claws clenching in anticipation as his pace quickened towards the creatures.

Thier fate was a forgone, and bloody, conclusion.

Once the Iron Horde moved in to investigate, and secure the comet, IronGore quietly gave his orders to Guts.

“Send a kommando to Ace, an let him know we got tha’ Iron Comet.”

“Already did. Do ya jus’ wanna sit an’ secure tha’ place? Tha boyz might get a little suspicious if they’re jus’ sitting wit no orders.”

“Have ‘em build a scaffold.”

Guts nodded. “Good, that’ll take some time.” and he turned to leave.

“Guts.”

“Hmm?”

“Use tha’ dead wood.”

Guts looked at the mauled, and twitching trees. “Yeah… Good idea.”


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/09/13 00:44:44


Post by: Kharne the Befriender


=====The Breach, Hive Cogger, Luna Epsilon=====
Rasz’k Xarak walked through the imperial cadavers, studying the faces of pain and dying hope left on their faces. He knew he had done his ancestors proud, for every Imperial he killed, a Tarellian was avenged, or at least that’s how he saw it. The Imperials would return, it was there way, to send wave over wave and man after man until their deed was done, the makeshift defences and bulwarks served well but were now in a state of decay. Having Yelnava Narseen and her tribe wait in the treeline made a good surprise shock assault which was why the ramshackle defences still stood.

“Xarak, the Shas’el is sending us enough material to bolster our position, but they are minimal. Too much air traffic or something.”

“It will have to do, prepare to receive the requisition.” He cocked his head slightly putting his ear to the sky, “That will be all Caledoras.”

The brute like reptile nodded, affording a glance with his good eye to the sky. It was not spoken, but they had nothing to ward off aerial vehicles. I f they were assaulted from the air losses would be… staggering. Where were the Necrons? Surely they had some kind of air support in the region or perhaps it was blocked by the siege. The very siege he had broken and defied this very moment. He wondered how the Necrons came to be, and wondered if any other races had been made metal. He would ask Numek when he had the chance. A low thrum broke his line of thought and grabbed his attention, this could be the assault.

“Everyone brace! Get to cover! Prepare for battle! Go, go, go!” He got into position behind a half melted and scorched tank trap and unslung his rifle pointing it in the general direction of the noise. There was a clattering of claws on pavement and clanging metal as the Tarellian forces made for cover and readied their instruments of war. As the low buzzing steadily crescendoed so did tension and suspense creep through the shoddily raised lines. Seconds turned into minutes and minutes into eternity before the roar of the engines were upon them. Xarak cursed himself as a trio of Tau Orcas came into view over the treeline and the Tarellians relaxed. The Orcas landed in the courtyard of the Breach, the only area large enough to accommodate the transports. Fire Warriors poured from the vessels carrying various materials and equipment, one with a dark teal helmet stepped forward.

“I’m looking for the Grand Chieftain, I assume you're him?” The young warrior was obviously nervous but made great effort to hide it from the scaled beast.

“I am, and you must be the one delivering supplies.”

“Yes, sir. Shas’ui Scordel, reporting, sir.” He internally scolded himself for not starting off with an introduction and gave a soldierly salute trying to save what respect he could before he lost it all.

“Reporting? Are you not just ferrying supplies?”

“Shas’El wants us here to help reinforce, sir.”

“Hm. Then make yourself useful and start fortifying.”

“Yes, sir.”

The Shas’ui gave one last salute before joining his ranks and carrying what appeared to be a concrete like substance. Most supplies went into creating and solidifying the front line, preparing it for an assault from either direction of the wall. Caledoras and Tisareth held the flanks while Yelnava hid in the treeline opposite of the others hoping the shock tactic would work again. The metal and pseudo-stone wall stretched almost half a mile in circumference, oddly looped in certain spots where a crater or destroyed vehicle laid, it was rough, it was effective.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It had been six days and no sign of any Imperial attack, mist and fog were thick in the air and a macabre silence lay over the land, the far off weapons fire now quiet. Tarellians and Tau both patrolled the wall taking their shifts, some were huddled around makeshift tables and chairs either telling stories or playing some form of game. Others like Caledoras sat around and honed their weapons, itchy to get into combat, to inflict some kind of damage. Something was different, Xarak could smell it, he was unsure of what, but something did not feel right, something wasn’t right.

It was chaos, people grabbed what weapons they had and readied themselves for an assault as the boom of multiple explosives rocked the camp. Only it wasn’t the camp that was under attack, the explosions came from somewhere deeper in the bowels of Cogger, gunfire and shouting could be heard from anywhere in the city, the final battle of Cogger had begun, and the Tarellians would have their share of the fight. Xarak rallied his tribes and marched into the city, there was no speech needed, each knew their place and duty, and that was enough. The force of Tarellians marched down the street before the low rumble and marching of feet was heard opposite them. Xarak witnessed a trio of Malcadors come out of the smoke just long enough for a shell to knock him out cold.

His eyes barely opened, everything a blur. He heard nothing but the thud of explosives landing nearby. He blinked. Screaming, there was screaming, either from someone or from one of the engines flying over head. He blinked again. He tilted his head just as an assault clan rushed forward, immediately cut down by crossfire. One body fell, gasping for air. It tried to crawl away in a futile attempt at self preservation. A stormtrooper planted his boot on the reptile's back and aimed. The look his fellow soldier gave him lasted a lifetime, multiple items racing through his mind. Thoughts of home, family, children. Fear, anger, regret, sadness, acceptance… nothing. Xarak’s vision momentarily filled with hot red light. The stormtrooper made the Grand Chieftain his next target. He closed his eyes.

More lights filled the air and streaked across the field, these ones different. Amber bolts hurled at the Imperial forces, Necron Warriors advanced forward, each a reflection of the other, marching in step, coordinating fire. A pair of fairly scarred claws grasped his chestplate and pulled him out of the conflict, a soft tone was heard in the air, he recognized it as Yelnava’s. It was the last thing to reach his ears before he began to fade in and out of consciousness, the last thing he remembered was watching more of his kin die whilst the Necrons kept their advance.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
=====The Black Sands, Luna Epsilon=====

Xarak woke in a state of perpetual pain and soreness, before he could take stock of his surroundings he reached for his swords, only they weren’t there. Frantically looking he leaned up and instantly fell back down in a fit of agony. Tisareth held him down to keep him from hurting himself further. “Rasz’k, Rasz’k! Stop, you are safe now, the fight is over. Rest, your wounds are heavy.” Rasz’k calmed and swatted his hands away. “How many…” There was a long pause as Tisareth hesitated in delivering his answer,

“583, and we might lose Demerdul, he was in terrible shape when I pulled him out. We would have lost more if not for the Necrons.”

“And what of our iron compatriots?”

“They fared no better than us, no one did. The Imperium seems to have taken their Hive back.”

“Wake me when we return, I will have word with our allies.”

Tisareth nodded and left the Devilfish for the outside where the rest were marching. The convoy had been on the move for the past several hours, travel by air being too dangerous until they reached the coast. They had a long march ahead of them.

===== Yankor, Luna Epsilon=====

Numek dropped to one knee and bowed before his Phaeron. “Now, now Numek. There is no need for such formalities between such noble regents.” He motioned with his arm for the cryptek to rise from his stance, “Now, Cryptek, tell me how my flagship is coming along.” Numek’s singular eye shifted upwards as he smirked, some wicked or evil idea seemingly coursing through his mind.

“Words will not do, allow me to show you. I’ve… added something, and I believe you’ll be quite pleased.”

There small tour took them from the small Necron base to the bridge of the Megalith, then to the weapons room, then ending up in the launching bays. Kageros looked through the titanic rooms, easily a kilometer long, large enough to hold an entire invasion force, it unfortunately sat empty, except for the fighters that filled the five hangars. A hangar sat in the middle of the bay, it held a separate form of Scythe. “Numek, what are those?” “Those are a new creation of mine, Phase Sycthes I call them. A large phase-blade is built into the forward wings, using our superior speed, they will carve through enemy aircraft, rarely susaining any damage themselves.” “Will we see them in action?” “Of course.” They returned into the doorway they had just left and making a right where they had previously gone straight, they entered another room of gilded Ivory, this one relatively small with a single console on the wall. Kageros analyzed it carefully, taking less than a second to figure its purpose, it was a directory. Earth caste workers anxiously walked by the towering metal king, some felt brave enough to peek up at their leader. Most among the Tau believed that they worked with the Necrons as part of an alliance, but some of the wiser knew that it was the Tau working for the Necrons not with them, but few rarely voiced it. A skittering was heard behind the duo, sound of tiny metallic legs clattering along the ivory walls of the fortress ship. A small, modified scarab jumped onto Numek’s shoulder and whispered to him some unknown information, to which he seemed delighted to hear. “Wonderful news Kephri. My lord, our surprise is ready, we will continue if you are done with the directory.” Kageros finished his in depth look at the Megalith via the directory, it was about 8 kilometers long and 4 kilometers wide, it was massive, and well armed, but there were weak spots due to its size. “Let us continue on.” When they entered the final room they stood before a huge cyclopean structure, instead of the smooth ivory the rest of the ship resembled, this looked as if it were made of black marble. Intricate hieroglyphs were inlaid on every face of it, each beset with golds and other precious metals. “What is it?” Kageros asked without removing his eyes from the structure.

“A bio-furnace.”

-----Tau Command Post, Yankor-----
"Esteemed Commander Tach'var,
We received your message but were unable to respond, due to active combat operations. However, we come bearing the olive branch of peace, and a sharpened stake of it with which to stab at the Imperium together.

We have been aiding the Tiller rebels in claiming the city of New Pavus, and struck a massive blow to their morale, slaying the Governor's own nephew and heir apparent. Imperial reinforcements will soon be on their way, and any damage to the Imperium will be lost. This cannot be permitted.

Commander, you will undoubtedly be aware of the situation that Hive "Cogger" turned out as. We offer a chance to seek payment for that, to strike at the Imperials' heartland, and even push on from their. I have Cadres ready to mobilise on the Governor's Throne, if we can establish a foothold on Crion. New Pavus is that foothold, and the Imperium is trying to shut the door on progress and righteous revenge.
Will you open it with us?

A push on New Pavus will begin soon with three armies of Tillers, my own elite Gue'vesa troopers led by the esteemed Sub-Commander Vandred, a mercenary company, and a warband known as the Disciples of Decay.
Let us turn this battle from a fight to a slaughter.

Please, Commander Tach'var - you're our only hope.

Transmitted by Shas'O Skyhunter, Commander of Sunstrike Cadre."


Shas’El Tach’var reviewed the message sent just an hour ago. He was pleased to hear that Sunstrike Cadre had many allies of it’s own, perhaps they could be of use to the Coalition. He pondered what his reply would be and how he could assist, the defeat at Cogger still fresh in the minds of the Tarellians.

“Shas’Vre Firerain, report to the command tent at your earliest convenience.” Before he could set the receiver down as Shas’Vre Firerain entered the tent, a half-annoyed-half-apathetic look on his scarred face.

“Shas’El. How may I be of service?” Tach’var turned with a surprised and slightly concerned expression on his face. “How did you manage to make it here so quickly?” “I was outside the tent when you radioed in.”

“I see, I have need of your services. As I’m sure your briefings have made you aware, there is a Tau Cadre on Crion, they are in need of assistance.” He leaned against his desk and lit up a stick filled with some alien herb and offered one to Firerain who denied the offer.

“Sunstrike Cadre if I’m correct? I assume you want me to lead the force. Knowing you won’t want to risk losses but still wanting to help,” His superior took a long draw, and nodded, Firerain’s face as stoic and stalwart as ever. “You want me to lead a Heavy Support Cadre?”

The Shas’El grinned, smoke exhaling from his nose, “Precisely, you see Shas’Vre, 20 years of service together has come in handy,” Firerain cracked a grin before crossing his arms and letting out a seldom heard chuckle.

“So what am I leading and when?” Tach’var tossed a dataslate onto the table next to them, Firerain picked it up and studied it. Tach’var took in another deep draw, “Hop to it and go rain some fire,” smoke pouring from his mouth as he spoke. He turned around as the soldier left and reached for the receiver once again.

“Shas’O Skyhunter, this is Shas’El Tach’Var of the Rix’lan Coalition. We have received your message and congratulate your success the Imperial forces. Fret not for we will hear your call, I have already sent Shas’Vre Firerain, honored hero of the Thardega Campaign.

He leads a force that is as follows: Three modified Manta transports, twelve Skyray Gunships, six Hammerhead Gunships, and a number of fighter and bomber craft.

We’re are sorry for not sending more, but we are recuperating after the defeat at Cogger. We will send reinforcements when possible.”

He finished his message and sent it to Commander Skyhunter, has he did so a commotion began to stir outside, he left to investigate. As he swung the door open he saw immediately what the ruckus was, the strike force from cogger was flying in, Orcas and Mantas landed at the drop zone and disgorged their numbers of dead, wounded, and defeated. One body was rushed to the medical tent, he recognized the half body to be Caledoras’, his left arm’s pauldron engraved with his tribe’s symbol the, sand-stone sun, as well as bearing scorch marks. As the lizard people skulked by, returning to their campsite behind the Tau’s, he noticed that very few bore the stone stone, his tribe must have been at the front of the assault.

Xarak limped forward, being supported by Tisareth, “Shas’El… I assume you already know the story. Where is our Necron friend? I would have word with him.”

“He’s in the Necron base, Kageros has arrived and he’s giving him a tour,” At the words Xarak gave a confused look before coming to the conclusion that this must have been the leader of the Necrons he had heard of. He motioned for Tisareth to join his own tribe and slowly made his way for the front entrance of the Necron base, it was very well hidden. After a five minute hike up the small mountain and a few turns he found the cave entrance that led into the mountain. He tried to remember the sign to get in, he went to the far wall and traced a symbol with his hands, but nothing happened. He tried a different symbol and the whirring of metal was heard behind the stone as the wall gave way into a tunnel. After much walking and directional inquiries he finally found the room where the Necron noble was.

The door opened before him and his eyes caught on the tall frame of what had to be Kageros, he stood next to Numek, the first Necron he saw. He walked further into the room and gazed at the immense structure before him. Kageros began to speak, his metallic voice carrying a more noble tone, in Tarellian, “Welcome Grand Chieftain, it is about time we’ve made acquaintance,” he shifted his sight from the furnace to the lizard, “I am the Phaeron Kageros. What brings you here?”

Xarak shifted tensley under the scrying crimson eyes of the Phaeron, “The metal you are made of, what is it? Can it be made into armor?” “You are asking if we can make you armor out of necrodermis? That we cannot, but I can offer better.” Kageros looked back at Numek and flicked his eyes at the furnace, Numek understood and began working the console next to the ebony building. Xarak knew something was going on, “What is it? What do you speak of?” a roaring was heard and great amber glow was cast upon the room, the furnace had been lit and the newly made mechanics of old kicked and sputtered to life. “I offer immortality, should you or your warriors so choose, this structure is revival of the ones that turned my race into the machine god-kings we are now. For a small sacrifice of flesh and soul you will be reborn a hybrid of Tarellian and metal. An immortal warrior in your own right, a grandiose weapon used to slay the Imperium. That is, only if you accept of course. I know this a monumental decision, and for that I will leave you to talk amongst your people. I will be in the combat information center down here when you have your reply.”

Xarak keenly listened to every word he had to say and was taken aback by what he had heard. He turned and slowly made his way back to the surface, trying to comprehend the Phaerons words. When he resurfaced, day had become night and the many stars were shining, he could make out Crion through the dense canopies of the jungle, a light mist crawling across the moist dirt floor.. After a small trek back to the Tau camp he sought out the medical facilities, he entered to find Tau medical personal patching up Tau and Tarellians alike, albeit the Tarellians taking the majority of severe injuries. He stalked along the main hall looking into rooms left and right until he found the one was looking for. He entered only to find a ghastly sight, there lay Demerdul Caledoras, or most of him. Both of his legs were replaced with bionic, the metal plates on his chest denoting several synthetic organs, his right eye also bionic.

“By the Sacred Sands Demerdul, I was unaware you took so much damage.” The half metal lizard grudgingly turned his head so he could see his commander, it was obvious that he was in immense pain, and every movement saw it worsen. Caledoras hoarsley coughed a couple times before he spoke in a croaking whisper, “Rasz’k, you look surprised I still live. Ha, like I would let an Imperial man-dog take my life. I scoff at the thought,” He tried to laugh again but ended in a painful fit of coughing.

“Demerdul, I have a proposition for you.”

-----Bio-furnace-----
Kageros stood next to his Tarellian counterpart, both of them awaiting the arrival of their guests. Numek anxiously monitored the readings from the furnace and studied it as if it were going to disappear soon. The doors to their left opened, Caledoras and the remaining members of his tribe entered the large room, eyes straying off to the many parts of the room, or Kageros himself. With Caledoras they numbered 56, there faces seeming timid except for Caledoras who did not falter, but could hardly walk. Xarak met his friend with a clasp of the arm, “You are making a great sacrifice my friend, one that I could not ask of any other. You will be remembered.” “Remembered? You act like I’m going anywhere,” he grunted as he limped towards the furnace, his tribe following suit.

Numek waved Kageros over, he whispered some command to Kephri who crawled into the web of wires and machinery above the furnace. “My lord, when we activate this machine, you know there souls will be stripped, and I’m sure that’s of no consequence to us, but this might attract the attention of certain parties. Are you sure you want to follow through with this.” Kageros looked at Caledoras who seemed impatient and eager to get this over with, “Of course Numek, you know the one saying about parties, the more the merrier. Oh, when this ordeal is over I’ll need you in the comms room, I must make contact with our allies, both old and new,” He stepped back before he could reply to get a better view of the process, as unviewable as it was. Xarak gave a small speech to those awaiting their bio-transference before he himself stepped back. Numek glanced at Caledoras who in turn nodded at the Cryptek before facing his own, at least they had a choice in the matter.

Numek initiated the sequence and the blast doors closed, he started working the console more as amber light once more bathed the room. Faint screams were heard from inside the furnace roars. The machinery above the furnace whined and clacked, some tubing shook furiously as liquid metal was pumped into the furnace. Lychguard entered the room carrying armored panels and regal looking garb that tried to mimic that of which found on Tarellia, more brought in weapons that also had resemblance to the one they had brought with them. Each piece of armor and most pieces of the weapons were an earthy pale color, other pieces the same color as the sands found in the Great Deserts. The fire’s roar began to fade away as the furnace completed whatever ancient alien process it had carried out. Everyone was on edge as the blast doors slowly dropped, a heavy mist like smoke fell from inside the structure, red eyes lit up the void and illuminated the casters. Metallic steps were heard in unison marching from the doorway, thick bronze skeletons stood file and rank in the room, the Lychguard began arming the former Tarellians. Each had taken a new form now, not only were they larger, but they had skeletal wings that seemed to function off of some anti-grav technology. On each chestplate where their hearts used to be, was the symbol of the sand-stone sun, the same symbol was on the shields given to half of them. With the shields came large spear like weapons, the others were given axes and a reinforces carapace, each and every one of them cast an eerie red glow from various spots. Caledoras was now even larger than before, he stepped forward as did Xarak, he was unsure if the being in front of him was still the being he was but minutes ago.

“Demerdul?” There was a long pause.

“Didn’t I say I wasn’t going anywhere?”
Spoiler:

Quite the piece, it comes out to ~4,000 words. To sum up what happens:

-Megalith is ready for launch very soon
-Phase-Scythes
-Necron-Tarellian hybrids.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/09/14 07:23:09


Post by: Buttery Commissar


[Orbit: Crion]

It came with a purr, not a screech or even a rustle of static.
Garth looked up into the dark sky, as his vox headset signal was temporarily overloaded. Across Crion, any broadcasting equipment left powered up also emitted the same brief message.

~ Playtime, ladies and gentlemen.

Be seeing those worthy amongst you, very soon.


As the commissar exchanged glances with Edward, he felt the hairs on his neck raise involuntarily.


*


Brother Innovus leaned on the console with a strange grace for someone built so tall, and regarded Captain Choret with a quizzical air.
Choret knew this, despite the faceless helm his brother wore. It was no longer difficult. After all this time, he just knew.
The captain smiled, "One has to make an entrance, Brother. It is impolite not to make oneself known when arriving at the party."
Innovus shook his head in amusement at his brothers showboating, and regarded the viewing glass of the bridge, "Where, though?"
Smiling, and causing his teeth to glint in the artificial light, Choret pointed his finger elegantly at the map. Where one gesture would suffice, the Astartes offered it with both elegance and the minimum of effort, in stark contrast to his fondness for over-use of language, "We need to dispose of a few things, and make use of the resources provided. Very basic scouting indicates there would be no great issue doing so here. Barely an obstacle."

Innovus stepped away to ready the shuttle crew. As Choret enjoyed the regular deep beat of the sergeant's boots as they faded away, he didn't need to ask.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/09/15 20:58:58


Post by: Irishpeacockz


A journey into the Darkest Depths: Part 1

He was wrong.

For a being of Garathal’s caliber, an infallible prophet, One who the Gods themselves speak to, a leader of fanatics and armoured warriors, it is not an easy thing to admit. He sat motionless as his mind reached out searching for a familiar voice, a familiar sensation. He found it amidst a sea of other trivial distractions, faint at first but it was there, the same voice that led him to the then ruined Cathedral of Blight, the zealot has assumed this was Nurgle’s guidance but in the back of his mind he had doubted himself of that presumption of his, like a uncleaned wound it festered in the back of his mind until he couldn’t take it anymore and he had to know for certain, so here he knelt, searching.

The faint whispers now grew more dominant over the others as the sorcerer focused on his prize, it spoke in a foreign tongue whispering incessantly repeating the same phrase over and over again, Garathal repeated the phrase along with the whispers attempting to master the pronunciation and tone that filled his mind. Upon focusing harder Garathal saw an image flash before his eyes, a body of water followed by a word he understood, the different whispers condensed into one voice and simply said, “Black Loch” before both the image and the voices ceased in his mind.

With his suspicions confirmed Garathal stood up and pondered on both his next action and what he had just witnessed. Scouring what was left of the PDF’s record that remained at the Cathedral of Blight, Garathal found an old report, mentions of a creature lurking in the deep waters of the Lake Arcannus attacking any craft foolish enough to tread in its waters. The trooper who entered the report stated it was a mere myth and was just some fishermen kicking up a fuss to get a reduced tithe on their catch. Yet Garathal knew what he had seen, the Black Loch is no mere myth, Garathal searched for other documents now, maps of whatever population centers remained in this accursed swamp, anyone who would remember such a “Myth” and who might point him in the right direction, who or whatever this Black Loch is, it is powerful and its power would be his.

Kremus brushed himself down and straightened his posture, the great prophet himself requested his presence and he would look appropriate for such a splendid occasion. Proceeding without delay Kremus rushed up the steps of the decrepit Cathedral, taking them two at a time before walking past the two statuesque guards of Garathal, Apostles Galrass and Krel who did not even do any much as look in Kremus’s direction as the cultist timidly approached his master’s study where he now spends most of his days. Kremus placed three light knocks on his master’s door in rapid succession. He waited and the door opened to reveal Prophet Garathal in all his splendor, Kremus stood in awe admiring his lord

That fool Kremus stood with his jaw practically on the floor as Garathal stared at him impatiently

“Are you gonna stare at me until the Imperium our at our gates worm ? Kremus blinked

“Sorry Lord, what can I do to appease you ?”

“You are cowardly, spineless and weak” Garathal said bluntly before continuing “But you may be of some use”

“I will do anything that might appease the Papa Nurgle and assure his dominance over the fools that close in on us” interrupted Kremus

“Silence lest I have your tongue, I have highlighted a number of settlements that may or may not still exist in the surrounding area, find them and question them about The Black Loch, gather the information I require or do not return” Garathal turned his back on the cultist before slamming the door in his face

Kremus stood still for a moment, smiling. He finally had a chance to redeem himself for his failure at Dorn’s Shield, gathering a hood to conceal his dried out and rotted skin, he grabbed a handful of cultists and began his hunt for the settlements.

Kremus crossed a third name off the list, another goose chase, he would never be redeemed like this. One name remained on the list, a tavern of some description called “The Crionian Crab” Kremus folded the piece of paper back in his pocket and hoped to Nurgle that this last location would prove fruitful.

The Crionian Crab sat on a cliff overlooking Arcannus Lake which was calm and reflected the moon’s gaze. The cliff upon which the tavern sat had weathered the various storms that are common to the region better than the tavern itself. Upon inspection patched up holes in the roof and the dusty, cracked windows suggested disuse, Kremus opened the door to be created to a handful of stares from everybody in the room. The bar was sparsely furnished with chairs and tables that have be worn by the passage of time, the men had not fared much better with all of them sporting grey hair or none at all, a radio was set up on the counter but was receiving no signal due to the stormy weather, a frail old man manned the bar

“ Who would you be ? yous not from round here and we don’t get many visitors”

“We’re travellers looking for a spot o’ rum to warm our bellies on this cold night” spoke Kremus as he eyed the room.

One individual sat alone away from the others, He was missing an arm, an eye and most if not all of his teeth, his dirty, shaggy grey hair covered his one good eye and the smell of decay and alcohol from his breath obviously didn't help his vision, Kremus approached the man with his drink in hand

“Greetings friend, looks like you have a few stories to tell” the man jerked up out of his chair slashing at the air a knife

“You can’t fool me, I see ya, I fething see ya !” one of the locals sprung up and restrained the volatile drunkard

“Reg settle down, tis only a few travellers making conversation”
The man know as Reg dropped the knife and brushed a strand of his hair out of the way of his good eye “Aye, whaddya want from me ? Stories is it ?”

“If you wouldn’t mind, specifically about The Black Loch” The locals froze at the name and retreated to each others tables leaving Kremus and Reg alone

“Where did ya hear about that huh ? most folk forgot bout that beast”

“Nortannis, people there couldn’t stop talking about it”

Reg spat “Bunch of pansies, they claim to live in the swamp, they claim to be hard men yet we are all that remain of the true swamp dwellers”

Kremus was growing impatient “Do you know anything about the Black Loch or not ?”

“Do I know anything about the Black Loch ? You are looking at the sole survivor of one of its many attack on my folk, going back 20 or so years now”

“So you have seen the beast ?”

“Glimpses but ya i’ve seen it”

“Can you help me find it ?”

Reg sat up and grabbed Kremus’s glass of rum “All this talking is making me thirsty” he swallowed the substance in one gulp

“What will it take for you to tell me what i want to know ?” pressed Kremus

Reg slammed the glass down on the table “ More o’ those for a start”

Kremus turned to hail the barkeep, he had found exactly what his master sought, he would soon be redeemed.

Spoiler:
Action takes place in Arcannus, Part 2 will be up soon



Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/09/23 21:16:29


Post by: War Kitten


Farseer Lilliana sat in silent meditation in the temporary quarters that had been set up for her.

Outside she could faintly hear her kinsmen as they bustled around the base camp that they had established deep in Hive Cogger. None of them feared accidental discovery by the mon'keigh, humans were slow to accept that they could be outsmarted, and so the Eldar had been biding their time right under their noses. The forces of Chaos had suffered severely under the Imperiums fury, but they were still strong enough to pose a threat if they were not taken care of. Normally the Eldar would be content to stay here and eliminate their foe at their leisure, but over the last few weeks Lilliana had received some dire visions indicating that the Necrontyr were beginning to make their move. If they were not stopped Lilliana feared what they would do.

She took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly. She would need to reach out to the Imperium to let them know of the rising threat, before it was too late. But to who? Who among the Imperiums forces would be most receptive to this information? Lilliana thought deeply for a few moments before she broke into a wide grin. She knew just the right person to reach out to. With the grin still on her face she cast her mind out into the Ether, and began to focus in on the mind she sought.

There! Lillianas spirit self grinned in triumph as she finally tracked down the one she had been searching for. The next few minutes were spent probing his mental defenses, looking for a way in so she could deliver her message of warning. After several more minutes Lilliana found a small crack in the human's defenses, and she breezed through it. "Listen carefully to my words human" she began, and she felt the human's confusion and anger begin to rise. Lilliana knew she only had a short amount of time before she was shoved back into her own body, so she quickly continued speaking. "I have come to deliver a warning to your kind. The Necrontyr are active on this world, and they are building a weapon of immensely destructive power. Use your sensors to scan for the power surges that are being given off and destroy it quickly". Her message delivered Lilliana began to pull her mind back.

As she began to pull her mind back she felt her powers flare to life as she got a flare of insight, and she felt herself smile again. "Oh, and Chaplain Iodius? Your Chapter will recover and become greater than they ever were. Keep your faith and you will be rewarded". With that she pulled herself back into her body and the shapes of the walls around her came back into view. Only time would tell if her words were heeded.

Spoiler:
Just a bit of interaction between me and Vanden


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/09/26 21:51:02


Post by: Irishpeacockz


Kremus walked with a puffed out chest and a wicked smile as he escorted his “prize” through the gates of the Cathedral of Blight. Deformed cultist and Beastmen alike eyed the old geezer as he strolled through the courtyard as if he owned the place, not returning any of the glares that were being thrown his way as he sipped on the last of his free booze. The duo trekked up the steps towards the Cathedral itself and entered the repulsive sanctum. Upon spotting the duo enter Apostle Lynx notified his Lord at once

“My lord, the cripple approaches with an old man”

“Tell him I will be out shortly” shouted out the Sorcerer from his study

Kremus curtly nodded to Apostle Lynx who placed his manreaper in front of Garathal’s door

“I have business with the Prophet, let me pass”

Apostle Lynx’s replied bluntly “No”

Kremus growled before backing down and sitting in one of the adjacent, fungal infested benches, Reg slowly followed

“Hmmm, this guy thinks he is hot gak huh?”

Kremus blinked in disbelief “What did you just say ?”

“This priest fella making us wait an’ all”

Kremus was quick to correct the intoxicated fool “That priest fella is Prophet Garathal, favoured by Nurgle himself and champions his cause across numerous worlds, now hold your tongue lest I take it myself”

Reg chuckled “I’m tempted to continue slanderin’ your boyfriend just to see him torture you, without me or my tongue for that matter you ain’t getting the information he so desperately needs, although you wouldn’t think he cares much the way he is keepin’ us waitin’ around”

Before Kremus could retort the terminator bound sorcerer appeared before them clutching his staff tightly as if he was somewhat annoyed or angered. Kremus waited for his Holiness to speak before talking himself as he had been taught to but Nurgle’s chosen never spoke he merely observed for a few moments before Reg broke the silence

“Well you’re a menacing fella aren’tcha” Kremus would have turned pale if his face hadn’t already turned a putrid shade of yellow from the rot.

Garathal tilted his head slightly and chuckled “Finally someone with a bit of backbone, it has been a long long time since someone mustered up the nerve to talk to me in such fashion” he paused a moment while Reg took another gulp of the additive substance before continuing

“While refreshing it is also disrespectful and it shall not happen again” Garathal looked at the slumped drunk expectantly who merely shrugged his shoulders

“Sure sorry eh ….. sir “

Garathal nodded and looked towards a sweating Kremus “Now Kremus what can this waste of human semen tell me about the Black Loch ?”

Kremus sat up nervously “Everything my lord, he claims to be the sole survivor of one of its attacks nearly twenty years ago”

Worms surfaced from the rotting sorcerer’s helm and retreated into an adjacent hole similar to the one from whence it came while Garathal pondered this news “Interesting ….. So the Black Loch is a creature then ? And you say you saw it ?”

Reg blinked and sat up a little “Glimpses but she’s real alright” promised Reg as he raised up the stump of his left arm

“And you can do what ? bring us to where you were ambushed ?”

Reg burped and nodded his head “Exactly, on one condition”

“Which is ?”

“You supply me with a lifetime of booze”

Garathal nodded “Then you shall have it, if you get me the Black Loch you will drown in drink more than you could ever hope to consume”

Reg cracked a toothless grin “I’ll hold ya to that”

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Despite being highly intoxicated and only having one arm remaining Reg still managed to stir his vessel relatively well through the choppy waters and prevailing winds, only losing control for a moment when he would take a swig from his seemingly endless supply of booze and try to stir with his stump. As they drifted further and further out towards the center of Lake Arcannus the weather around them sinisterly changed, The skies grew darker, the choppy seas turned into churning waters which rocked the sea faring vessel about no matter what Reg did and a thick fog rolled in reducing visibility to a mere few meters from the boat, leaving nought in view bar a few ship wrecks that had decorated the lake for decades or perhaps even centuries. Reg stopped the boat, stepped back from the wheel and fell back into the seat positioned behind him as the boat was thrown around

“This is as far as I will go !” roared Reg over the winds and the lake as he desperately tried to keep his balance and hold onto his bottle like a newborn child

Garathal and his apostles stood up simultaneously

“And how will I get the rest of the way you worn out bottle licker ?”

“All ya need to do is go down, this weather aint natural ya know, ‘tis the Loch’s work”

“Hmmm, remain here our next meeting could be the greatest day of your life or your worst nightmare” with that said eight terminator clad marines plummeted from the boat down through the dark waters to the lake bed below.

While his Apostles switched on some lights built into their suits for illumination Garathal merely shook his staff and green warp fire engulfed his blade despite the depths of which he found himself. The local wildlife scattered before the flame being used to the cover of darkness being this far down provides. Edging forwards they moved in formation leaving heavy tracks in the shifting sands behind them as they tried to tackle the black abyss that laid before them. After a few minutes of fruitless searching something began to nag at the back of Garathal’s brain, not privy to repeat his mistakes he concentrated on it this time and was just about able to make out soft whispers, the same ones that led him here in the first place. Not believing in coincidences Garathal blocked out everything else, any insignificant distractions, anything that could dampen his efforts in his search was cut out of his mind, … and he stood there, motionless for a few minutes, some of the Apostles grew restless while the others knew better. Garathal rose his head slowly and decisively stode west through a wall of reeds without saying a word, his apostles were quick to keep up the pace. They passed what seemed to be a ship graveyard with many ships buried in the sand while others had completed withered away leaving behind only the frames to suggest their existence, some of the ships in “better” condition housed some local predators that ducked and dived every now and then to escape the burning bright light. While his original pace was quick the sorcerer soon began to slow down, almost as if he grew uncertain of the direction of the whispers, placing two mailed fingers against his helm as if the gesture would help him focus.

“A psychic ward” determined Garathal as he strolled around in circles “It has to be”

Regaining his focus Garathal decided to follow the voices as far as they would take him which as it turns out was quite close indeed, the sands rose in a massive mound atop which sat some crumbling ruins. Garathal headed towards the only thing of note in this aquatic nightmare which was also his only real discovery, the ruins. “How inviting” remarked Garathal as he kicked aside one of the many carcasses that littered the ascent to the eerie ruins, he raised a fist signalling his men to fall into a tighter formation and moved up, slowly and carefully. Upon closer inspection the ruins were more ancient than Garathal realised, the engravings had faded via the passage of time although of the few ones that were visible they seemed to portray some armoured warriors and what seemed to be some dragon like creatures, a monument to the Black Loch ? And who were these warriors that fought alongside them ? “Something to reflect on later” decided Garathal before he moved on to survey what must have been statues once upon a time, now ,all it resembled was a lump of stone. It’s once sharp features have now dulled, the facial features had seemed to recede back into the stone leaving behind a plain smooth surface, a tail, jaw and limbs seemed to suggest a dragon but he could not be so sure. The ground itself shook and tore itself asunder as Garathal spun on his heels bringing his staff to bear, he was met with a torrent of whirling sand as something large screeched and roared as it pulled itself from the sand. The Black Loch’s head rose above the veil of sand that it had roused and sniffed out the would be invaders with contempt. The beast’s eyes pierced through the darkness leaving no misconceptions about his presence, it’s head featured two protruding horns out the back of its skull with gills running along its long neck, it let out a third screech to reveal its terrifying maw which consisted of two rows of razor sharp teeth and a forked tongue to boot. Gartathal could hardly believe his eyes, if he still had them. Realising the severe disadvantage he faced trying to fight in melee underwater, Garathal bolted. Apostles scattered left and right to avoid the beast’s blows fleeing as far away from the ruins as their suits would allow them to. Garathal could feel the beast bearing down on him, he was no match for the beast in the water, just leaving the mound upon which the ruins sat the sorcerer spun on his heels and sent a ball of warp fire flying into the beast’s chest as a last ditch attempt to save his own life, the beast staggered and reared before it sent it reeling back from whence it came by the apostles. Garathal could hardly believe it, he was done for and yet it did not pursue them far, it did not leave the ruins, it was protecting something just like the psychic wards, but what ? Garathal had much to ponder and decided to ascent to Reg above who seemed to have been busy if the empty bottles were of any indication.

“Reg” spat Garathal “The beast is indeed alive and well”

Reg raised a bottle in Garathal’s direction “Told ya so slimey, now as to my reward”

For once Garathal agreed with the sailor “Yes onto your reward, I promised you would drown in alcohol didn’t I ?”

Reg nodded “You sure did, now where is it ?” a sense of agitation creeping into his voice

The sorcerer grabbed the feeble man “Have you ever tried drinking sea water ?”

Garathal never gave Reg a chance to answer before he plunged the disrespectful runt into the lake

“Nurgle thanks you for your service, Reg. Apostle Lynx commandeer this vessel and bring us back to the shore, but mark this position out on the radar, we will return here soon this I promised you”

Spoiler:
Here it is, not happy with certain aspects of it but whatever and yes i mix up lake and seas here DEAL WITH IT


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/09/27 21:43:17


Post by: Ezra Tyrius


“Sorcerer? Can you hear me?”

The words drifted through the blinding light, barely audible over the sound of two distressed hearts beating hard against a fused ribcage. The Sorcerer tried to open his eyes, but his eyelids felt heavy and his mind was weary. He felt impossibly light, as if he was floating in the void, surrounded by the endless nothing that stretched out beyond perception.

“Wake up, old friend. Wake up.”

The voice was a familiar one, one the Sorcerer had heard so many times before. How long had it been? Years? Decades? Millennia? He couldn’t really tell. Time had become such a fleeting, useless concept since he had ventured into the depths of the Warp.

“Get the Apothecaries in here! And search for the intruder! Leave no stone unturned and no nook or cranny unchecked!”

A faint smile drew across the Sorcerer’s parched lips. It was the voice of a born leader, full of authority and raw power. It was a voice that commanded and inspired at the same time, one that compelled others to listen. He envied that sometimes.

++Lord Sorcerer.++

The Sorcerer’s eyes slid open a little more, reacting to a presence entering his mind. But unlike his previous… guest, this was no intruder.

++I wish for you to wake up.++

He felt cold fingers softly caress his cheek, an icy palm hovering above inches above his skin. Squinting, he could see the frail silhouette of Circe standing over him, her blind eyes shining brightly with every colour in the universe.

He gasped, and opened his eyes.

A mixture of blood and vomit forced its way out of the Sorcerer’s throat, splattering beside him on the cold metal floor. He suddenly felt heavy, as if a massive weight had been put on top of him, until he realised it was nothing more than his own deactivated Terminator Armour that pinned him to the ground. Slowly, it powered up again, the servos in his arms and legs responding sluggishly to his attempts to raise himself from the floor.

“Steady, old friend. Your wounds-“

The Commander sat beside him, holding him steady. He looked surprisingly worried, a wary look dominating his noble features.

“I don’t know what it is you fought in here, Sorcerer…”

The Sorcerer’s head turned, faintly taking in the havoc that had been unleashed within the armoury. Boxes and containers had been catapulted through the room, weapons and debris littered the floor and fully half of the lumen strips had been torn off or were hanging by a thread from the ceiling.

“… and at this point, I’m not certain I want to.”

A shiver ran down the Sorcerer’s spine, only this time, it did not ebb away as it usually did. The shiver became an earthquake, wracking his body and sending him sprawling back to the floor, convulsing as his eyes rolled backwards in their sockets again and the visions bled through the veil.

A pale horse darts through a withered swamp, escaping its hunters

I see you

Souls burn and turn to metal

He sees you

A Hive falls, and rises, and falls again and again and again

We all see you

A bleeding eye gazes over three planets

Soon

Ancient hands glide over frescoed walls

Prepare

The moon waxes once more

WAKE UP.


And suddenly, all became still.

The Sorcerer’s eyes rolled back into place, and he looked into the lumen strips above him. It was then that a message blared over the vox emitters.

"Playtime, ladies and gentlemen.

Be seeing those worthy amongst you, very soon."


The Sorcerer grinned. He grinned widely, a slow rumble forming at the back of his throat. The rumble turned into a cackle, rising in volume until the entire armoury was filled with his hysterical laughter.
As the others in the room looked nervously at one another, unsure of what to do, the Sorcerer’s laughter rose to its crescendo, only to suddenly halt.

“Oh yes, dear cousins”, he whispered to the cold air.

“Playtime, indeed.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

++ALL ASSETS++
++PREPARE FOR IMMINENT REDEPLOYMENT++
++ONLY WE SHALL REMAIN++


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/10/04 14:11:50


Post by: Tactical_Spam


Part 1


If you stare long enough into the Abyss, the Abyss will stare back

Laser fire and stubber rounds whizzed by Zehk’s head as he approached the entrance to a sunken temple. Ewryht’eikl had instructed him to reclaim similar sites in order to power up some sort of way line, a current in the warp. With that, the Dark Lord could send a small force to Crion without attracting the attention of all but the most keen Psykers. Resistance was nil at the other locations, but Zehk figured that with this one being closer to Hive Cogger, some of the Flayed Legion (defected was Zehk’s assumption; they did not wear the Hand of Lazarus) might have had fled to it to escape the obvious hysteria that was Hive Cogger.

Zehk summoned his combi-bolter, a daemon-weapon that went by ‘Eclipse’, to his hand and sent a lazy spray of mass-reactive bolts into a grouping of cultists hiding behind a downed tree. He need not kill them, but only suppress them as there was more of the New Order behind him who wore their bloodlust on their sleeve. One of those souls in particular was a spawn named Kri, whom was named after the only noise that it could make. The sound in fact, was an almost-certain death sentence to all who heard it. It wouldn’t take the spawn long to pick up a victim’s scent and hunt it down like a ravenous wolf.

Kri barreled past Zehk, smashing trees aside like they were twigs, and leapt to the unfortunate band of cultists. Zehk turned away in content at the carnage. More cultists swarmed out of the entrance of the temple and took cover behind ferrocrete columns, makeshift barricades and civilian vehicles. Zehk’s forces were easily out-numbered 5-1, though Zehk always preferred quality over quantity. Most of the weapons in the cultist’s possession weren’t even capable of piercing power armour. A shrill voice broke Zehk from his war-revelries.

“Was the order not to ‘stay in formation, you dogs?’ “ Zehk’s second-in-command, a traitor commissar by the name of Helga Schäfer. She stood only a few inches above most men, but that might have been a foot in the eyes of her subordinates. Her face was perfectly symmetrical apart from a monocle over her left eye and her hair was pulled back into a perfect bun that was neatly covered by her commissar’s hat. One could venture and say she valued order and perfection above all else. “You know it's irksome to me when you defy your own order.”

Zehk felt stabbed, not by the words, but by her eyes. She had a way of persuasion that didn’t involve her bolt pistol and worked on both cultist and Traitor-Astartes alike. It was unnatural. “I did… Kri! Form ranks!” Zehk commanded, his armour beginning to feel constricted, “And get out of my head…”

“Apologies, my lord,” the commissar said, bowing in an honest way. She stood back up straight and waved her hand towards the temple. By now, the cultists had stopped firing, but remained wary nonetheless. “First rank, raise shields!”

The first line of Zehk’s men, twenty in all, broken into two lines of ten, raised their makeshift shields in a close fitting line. He doubted that they would stop anything above bolter fire, but against auto and lasguns, they would do fine. Schäfer’s ‘command’ squad approached from between the two lines and joined up with their commissar. The squad consisted of a standard bearer, carrying a flag with the Waxing Moon of Ewryht'eikl painted on it, two of Schäfer’s bodyguards and an ogryn with a massive drum.

“Forward march!” Schäfer commanded. The shield wall slowly advanced towards the temple under the guidance of a drumbeat. Schäfer looked to her superior. “Shall we send in the rabble?”

“No, not until the wall is closer. After all, they are the distraction,” Zehk said, unsure if he was addressing the commissar or her men behind her.

“I don't recall sacrificing them as a distraction was in the original battle plan” Schäfer questioned, her searing gaze now uncomfortably fixed on Zehk once more.

“Neither did I, but a higher power has demanded it to be so.”

“Are you referring to the snake?”

“Unfortunately, yes. She wants to be let out. She needs to kill again,” Zehk said, a slight buckling sound emminating from his armour. The piercing look from Schäfer stopped the noise at its root. Truth be told, the daemon possessing Zehk’s body catered to his more primal urges. It made him lose all control of his actions that weren’t ‘kill’, ‘eat’ and ‘sleep.’ It was a blessing and a curse that Zehk wouldn't wish upon any of his most hated enemies. It made Zehk curious as to why the snake was bound to him and not Ewryht’eikl’s Bloodthirster, Raak’tiil. Zehk did not linger over these thoughts long so he didn't warrant unwanted attention from the snake. Schäfer’s voice returned him to reality.

“Do not be around me then. It is not my wish to die in this backwater system.”

“As you wish, Commissar,” Zehk snarled, mindlessly advancing towards the temple. Darkness filled Zehk’s mind and he found himself laughing in unison with another voice. His armour buckled from the immense pressure building inside it. “Suolyn’ne… I release you…”


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/10/04 18:34:22


Post by: Themanwiththeplan


Can't say I've read it all that's been written, but I found my self skimming the last page and have to say Kharne the Befriender's chapter had me reading before I knew it.
I liked your, Tarellian's. Plus your main character in this chapter was very likeable. The descriptions and flow between the characters and what they were thinking was very nice too and didn't slow down the telling. So an all round good job. Cheers for the read and actually making me care about a Xenos for a change.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/10/04 19:52:41


Post by: Irishpeacockz


This chat is for the story pieces only, if you want to chat with the writers about thier stuff you can do so in our OCC chat here http://www.dakkadakka.com/dakkaforum/posts/list/13800/673360.page


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/10/06 15:50:42


Post by: Sgt_Smudge


-41 hours before Tiller Assault

Only two went in the bunker.

The Tiller guards outside had only let two men enter - Vandred, who had waved them aside, and a man in somewhat clean rags, who Vandred had identified as 'Mason'. After some grimacing through Mason's distinct stench, they had been let through, and the door shut behind them. The guards would never know what transpired in that bunker. All they were thinking of was the upcoming assault on Highknight Wall which Major O'Connell was planning for. Little did they know of the war being arranged behind their backs.

Now four people stood in the bunker.

The first two were Vandred and Mason, swathed in various robes and other garments. Vandred's kept him obscured and looking like the rest of the Tiller soldiers. Mason's housed a veritable hive of fungus and moss strains in the threads, which the Disciple would cultivate doggedly - his own garden of Nurgle. It was this same garden that he invoked in the bunker.

Laying down the fecund moss in three circles, he muttered in a dark tongue and burned the offerings. The noxious smoke blossomed up, slowly, gradually, coalescing into a figure. A massive figure, clad in archaic Terminator plate. A figure Mason prostrated himself towards, and called his name.
"Garathal! O Exalted Prophet! I bring news of New Pavus."

The Terminator Sorceror shifted in the smoke. He was not real, but the smoke moved with natural, yet unnatural, motions mimicking the Prophet's motions all the way back in the Cathedral. When Garathal spoke, it was both nowhere and everywhere, carried on the tendrils of moss-smoke.

"Mason, my errant sheep. The flock are waiting. What is the New Pavus situation?"

The disciple rose to a knee. "An alliance to push the Imperials out in two days."

"And why do we need an alliance? Are we not capable of taking the city alone?"

"Because of the Tillers," Vandred cut in. Smoke-Garathal regarded the Gue'vesa intently. "The Tillers occupy fully half of the Southern side of the city. Your kind don't do well with the Imperials, but you'll find your aid far better received with the Tillers."

"You speak for the Tillers, yet are not one. Identify yourself, young maggot."

"Sub-Commander Vandred. Auxiliary of Sunstrike Cadre. Bound by duty to help take New Pavus by Captain Nassau of the Tillers - and that's exactly what I'll do."

"And you realise you can't take it alone." Garathal had a twinge of humour in his disembodied voice.

"Not quite. We *could* take the city, besiege Highknight Wall, take the city for ourselves. But I want to turn this battle from a fight to a slaughter. And for that, I approached your agent, Mason, who directed me to you."

"And what's the payment for us? Thrones? Credits? A share of the city? A pathetic peace treaty?" Garathal scoffed. "Such trinkets are meaningless to the Gods."

Mason responded. "Actually, no, my Lord. Vandred has offered us vassals."

"Vassals?" Garathal spoke with disbelief. "How are you in a position to freely give away lives to me, Sub-Commander? And how many?"

Vandred grimaced. "Technically, I cannot make this offer. But what Major O'Connell doesn't know will not haunt him. During the siege, the Jultan quadrant of the city is all yours to depopulate as you see fit. Just that region, and the few hundred civilians in it. Consider that my payment."

"Very well, human. I accept your payment. My Disciples will be awaiting the battle in two days, and descend when your precious innocent allies charge in. We will take Jultan quadrant as our own. Do not send any men in for twenty four hours after, lest they meet the same fate."

Vandred nodded, and produced a pocket holo-projector. He set it down on the hard ground, and the fourth figure appeared. A direct contrast to Garathal's smoky visage, this one was crafted from light itself. The flat flanks of Tau combat armour glowed in the dimly lit bunker. This time, Vandred saluted the arrival.

"Shas'O Tach'var?"

"No. I am his adjutant, Shas'vre Firerain. I will be leading the contingent to support you. Gue'vesa, kindly present your mission commander so we may begin our battle planning."

Vandred coughed nervously. "Firerain, I am the mission commander. Gue'vesa'El Vandred, reporting."

"Oh - my apologies, Sub-Commander. My armies are ready - we just await your orders."

"We filled you in on the situation via vox - you should be aware of the attack we're planning. We need you to attack from the air and outflank the Imperial forces, distracting them. If possible, I suggest we sync our ordnance systems, so my Pathfinders can guide your Seeker missiles from our vantage point."

"A bold plan, human," interjected Garathal, "but where do my men come in?"

Mason replied. "We will attack from the sewer network and air too. Our Beastmen shock troops will ambush and outflank the defenders, whilst our plague drones and rot flies can swarm the skies. If all goes as planned, we can pen the Imperials in, and drop virus bomblets on their heads."

Garathal nodded, the movement lessened by the massive suit of armour. "Solid. I like it." The smoke twisted to face Vandred. "You're playing a dangerous game here, mortal. Your web of alliances will not hold for long."

"Long enough." Vandred spoke through gritted teeth. "Sub-Commander, anything else you wish to discuss?"

"Your cadre is isolated," the Tau said. "We could benefit much, your men and mine. I ask you to consider joining our coalition."

"I cannot make that decision, commander. I will consult with Skyhunter himself, but we must be wary when it comes to protecting our own. The Empire mistreated us. We will not be squandered like that again."

Firerain nodded. "Noted. That will be all." The hologram cut out, plunging the bunker back into dimness.

Garathal's form began to disperse. "Look for us when the sky turns dark with flies. We will not fight for you, but we will take your side. Remember the price you paid for us, Vandred."

Mason picked up the scorched remains of the moss offerings, and consumed them. Vandred's gut churned, inexplicably horrified by the ritual in front of him. He tried to look away from the bizarre ritual. Mason swallowed, and grinned at Vandred.
"You did well. Many of those not touched by Nurgle cannot stand in the presence of one of his apparitions. Much less talk to one."

Vandred bit back a wave of vomit.
"Charmed."

Two men left the bunker. The guards were none the wiser.

-----------------------------------
-00 hours before Tiller Assault

Gallus stood on the top of Highknight Wall. A vox caster lay cradled in his arms, the speaker horn pressed to his mouth. Around him, PDF soldiers and Scions alike had come to watch the fireworks.

The Tempestor Prime had decided to take action against the Tillers directly. Even if it affected him little, Rodrick Payne's assassination was a blow to the PDF's morale. Morale that needed to be regained.
And what better way than a fireworks display? Of course, Gallus had worded it differently.

"Take our stockpile of incendiary missiles, and burn back the Tillers. Make as many runs on their land as we have rounds, and only then do you have my permission to return. I don't want to see any more missiles on those Valkyries, you understand? Good - now give those PDF bastards something to smile about."

His Valkyries were approaching the city. The sound of their distant engines were drowned out by the jubilant cheers of the PDF forces. The corners of Gallus' mouth turned upwards - this was the war he wanted.
He was about to give a rousing cheer himself, when the Scion carrying the regimental standard next to him collapsed, half of his head blasted away. Time seemed to slow down, as the Scion's gloved fingers released the standard. Gallus dropped his vox caster, and caught the banner. He took one look at the fallen soldier, and adrenaline kicked in. His grinning mouth turned into a snarl of command.

"Take cover!"

Slug rounds and bright bolts peppered Highknight Wall. Several PDF soldiers, Salvar Guardsmen and Scions were shot down, the surprise attack giving them no time to react.
The Tillers were assaulting.
Quickly, the defenders were hunkered behind the wall and blasting at the attackers. Gallus hurled a grenade over, and retrieved his vox caster.

"Gallus to Pyrus Squadron - the Tillers are attacking the main wall! Change your target - hit the Tillers!"

The return fire rippled back into the Tiller wave. The lightly armoured rebels were gunned down by the Salvar and Scion soldiers. The PDF tried to match their off-world allies, but their shots never landed close. Their trigger discipline was off, their training forgotten. They were as good as civilians. Gallus hated civilians in a warzone.

"Pull yourselves together, you motherless bastards!" Gallus screamed at the disorientated troopers. "Shoot them!"

A hand grabbed the Tempestor from the back. Gallus wheeled around and smashed his fist into the owner of the hand. He saw the blur of the brown PDF fatigues crumple at his feet. Cursing his own reflexes, Gallus crouched to the man's level.

"Sorry trooper - what was it?" he yelled above the sounds of battle. The trooper mumbled something through his bleeding nose.
"Speak up, son!" Gallus yelled irritably.

"Look up! Aircraft!" bawled the soldier.

Gallus laughed. "Yes, the Valkyries are coming! We'll beat these bastards b-"

"No sir! Not ours!" His eyes were white with fear. Gallus peered upwards. Sure enough, there were no Valkyries. Instead, three gargantuan airships, disgorging dozens of skimmers and flanked by other aircraft instead dominated the skies. He recognised the shape of the largest ships before his HUD did: he had already downed one before on Julla.

Tau Mantas.

Already, he was scrabbling for his vox caster, and fumbling through the channels.

"Gallus to Pyrus Squadron - engage the Tau air force! Leave the Tillers to us!"

The vanguard of the Scion Valkyries began to climb into the sky, and engage the Tau fleet. Gallus didn't notice. He wasted no time in contacting the Blood Fort garrison.

"This is Tempestor Prime Gallus Tauron to Colonel Vannon , Salvar Fifth regiment! Scramble all your aircraft and get to New Pavus now! The Tau are assaulting! The Tau are here!"

-----------------------------------
+01 hour after Tiller Assault

"Getting torn up down there, aren't they?" Blayke muttered to Vandred. "I almost feel sorry for the rebels."

Up in the belfry of an old Imperial cathedral, the Pathfinder team guided shoals of Seeker missiles to their final destination. Vandred was marking his kills with his bonding knife, scoring tallies into a plank of wood. It was a practise he'd fallen into during the Noct'yan War, hunting down renegade Tarellians in the permanent dusk. Already, he'd gotten through three planks, and was well on his way to his fourth.

"Remember - you might not care about them, but we made an oath. We're going to break this siege, and we need them to survive to do it."

"Of course, Sub-Commander." Blayke guided another missile into a stubber team on the far side of the wall. Their broken bodies ragdolled off the ramparts.

From their vantage point, the battle below was just a distant din. No shots came up to them, and they never needed to resort to using their pulse carbines. Instead, they could leisurely mark targets, and let the Seeker missiles from the Sky Rays behind them and the Mantas over them trace their marks.

Vandred's comm link interrupted their routine.

"++Nassau to Vandred! We can't hold this up much longer! We're distracting them well enough, but we need to push forward!++"

"Just hold out a little longer! We need them to commit their entire force! We'll divert some missiles to create some cover for you, but until they send their entire-"
Vandred trailed off. He squinted at the small shapes on the horizon, growing larger by the second. He pulled out his pulse carbine, and looked down the sights. The blocky shapes of Imperial Valkyries swam into focus, coating the horizon. Vandred leapt to his comm bead.
"Vandred to Nassau, just hold on a little longer! They're committing more aircraft! I'll send the order to our allies!"

"++Van, are you still not going to tell me what your allies are?++"

"Wait and see, Captain."
Vandred turned off the comm link, and took a flare from his pack. He pressed a button on the hilt, and penetrating light erupted from both ends. He dropped it down the church tower, falling past the bell ropes, and into a large drilled out hole in the floor. The flare dropped like a meteor, descending into darkness. A faint splash told Vandred it had reached the bottom - the sewer network. He looked down, and watched as a large, misshapen beast snatched it up, and gambolled through the sewers. The message had been sent, and the Disciples of Decay would soon join the fray.

-----------------------------------
+01 hour after Tiller Assault

Colonel Vannon felt the rushing air against his gasmask, and wiped the steaming moisture off his lenses. His Valkyries had scrambled in record time, rushing to support the rest of the regiment in the city. Reports had been coming in thick and fast from his commanding officers in the field.
The Tillers had launched a large scale offensive against the dividing wall. His own men and Gallus' Scions had formed the backbone of the defensive line. The PDF were broken, the chain of command heavy and unwieldy. Rodrick's death had been a heavy blow, one that the Scions had not been able to remedy.

Vannon had felt very proud of his Chem-Dogs. In their virgin battle of the city, the Salvar 5th were holding the line. Whether or not their combat drugs were acting as liquid courage or if their bravery was genuine was irrelevant. They held the line. Vannon would not ask for more than that.

His voice raised above the whipping air.
"Tell the Tempestor Prime that we're almost here! Ready yourselves, boys: this city belongs to the Imperium!"

The Valkyries soared over the outer walls of New Pavus, slowing down as they approached the active warzone. Squadrons of aircraft descended to drop their guardsmen, as the rest of the regiment made strafing runs on the Tillers who were getting to close to the wall. The sponson heavy bolters spat covering fire as Salvar guardsmen rappelled down from their transports, accompanying the spearing lasbeams of the Vendettas' lascannons.

Vannon watched as his Salvar guardsmen pushed forwards, reinforcing the Highknight Wall. Their added heavy weapon teams mowed Tillers down by the handful. The battleline rotated: the first detachment of Salvar troopers, depleted of combat gases, pulled back and resupplied from cargo containers dropped from Valkyries.

The Colonel's own Valkyrie began to descend, and he unclipped his harness to prepare for rappelling. As soon as the carabiner left the clip, the aircraft shuddered violently. Vannon was thrown to the deck, scrambling to get a hold. The pilot yelled something about "-engine jamming, obstruction in dorsal-" but Vannon didn't hear the rest. The Valkyrie spun out of control, the left engine in flames. One of Vannon's command squad tried to grab their commander, but merely ripped off a hunk of fabric. Colonel Vannon lost his grip, and slid off the side of the Valkyrie. For a few splitseconds, he was falling. He just got time to open his mouth and yell before landing on his back. The colonel swore as he felt ribs crack. Painkillers flooded his bloodstream, calming gases sprayed though his respirator, and adrenaline hauled him up. Salvar guardsmen pulled him away, patching up his wounds. Vannon's gaze, however, was fixed on his Valkyrie.

Flies. Flies the size of birds, bristling with coarse hairs and dotted with hideous eyes. Thousands of them. Ugly black swarms of them assaulted the aircraft, driving relentlessly into the jet intakes and clogging the engines. The swarms moved like tendrils, sinuous and lithe, utterly driven and possessed. The Valkyrie screamed like a wounded animal, and with pathetic pop, the turbine shattered, and the fuel tanks ruptured. Vannon shielded his eyes from the explosion, and the Valkyrie was scattered on the streets of New Pavus.

Getting to his feet, he watched the same grisly scene repeated amongst the Valkyries low enough to the ground. Massive, bloated flies flung themselves into the jet intakes, jamming the turbines, and bringing the flyers crashing to the ground. Gunfire did nothing to dissuade the creatures: there were just too many. Heavy bolters destroyed handfuls of them. The swarm just kept going.
Vannon grabbed a vox caster from a nearby guardsman.

"Vannon to all Salvar Valkyries - pull back at once, and form a rendezvous point. Keep your engines clear!"
Gradually, the Valkyries disengaged, setting down in a ruined market square. The guardsmen inside them added their lasfire to the enfilade. Bereft of anything but their bodies, and unable to jam the inert Valkyrie's engines, the flies were near useless against the Salvar. The swarms pulled away, as if by unseen command, leaving the guardsmen to regroup and tend to the crash victims.

Then the Disciples attacked.

From the skies, bloated, swollen Rot Flies and Plague Drones buzzed erratically over the clustered Salvar troopers. The cackling of Nurgle daemons provided the melody to their drone. Vannon broke their song with a sharp call to arms, and the guardsmen fell into firing lines. Just as planned. Grenades imbued with viruses, plagues and other foul concoctions found themselves hurled at the guardsmen, accompanied by the gleeful cackling of the daemons. The packed guardsmen found their respirators dissolved by the toxic gases, and soon their blood ran not with combat drugs and adrenaline gas, but with the essence of death itself. Guardsmen choked on their own fluids by the score. Those who were able to spread out from the killing zone backed away into the rest of the Imperial defence force. Repulsed by the wall of lasfire fired to the staccato rhythm of Vannon's orders, the daemons slowed their onslaught. Fighting back to back, the Scions and Salvar guardsmen held Highknight Wall both ways - from the hundreds of Tillers from the South, and the daemonic abominations from the North. On both sides of the wall, the killing zone stretched out from the defenders, marked out by a thick line of bodies and blood. But with every minute, the bodies were inching closer.

-----------------------------------
+02 hours after Tiller Assault

Shas'vre Firerain stood on the command deck of the spearheading Manta. The sounds of aerial battle were all around him, and he never felt more alive. Consoles active, target locks, missiles away - the sounds of progress.

The three Mantas of Prin'shek Cadre had been especially outfitted for this operation. It held far more fuel and troop compartments, eschewing weaponry for troop transport - relying on the escort craft to provide fire support. Of course, Firerain had not anticipated that he would actually need fighter support, and had requisitioned shoals of Sun Sharks bombers. A tactical error he regretted now.

As his Mantas dropped the first wave of Sky Rays to support the Tillers below, unforeseen Imperial jets had intercepted the Mantas. The second wave, consisting of Devilfish and other vehicles, was mauled by the Valkyries, forcing Firerain to delay deployment of ground troops. Instead, the coalition fought around the Mantas, driving away the probing strikes of the Scion fleet.
A Sun Shark collided with a suicidal Valkyrie, detonating in a sun of promethium and plasma.
A Valkyrie spun to the ground, it's wings punctured and shredded by drone missiles.
A wing of Valkyries engulfed a Remora drone squadron in flame, frying the aerial drones.

Firerain watched the battle unfold from his command deck, feeling the ebb and flow of the tides. With each passing minute, he grew more sure of the battle's outcome. His bombers were not prepared for aerial dogfighting - nor were the Valkyries, which were laden with incendiary missiles, but they held the edge. Firerain was forced to acknowledge there were more of them, and they sliced into his lines like serrated teeth digging into the yielding flesh of the Tau armada. He refused to break though - even if he was losing men, he was still diverting the Imperials, keeping them from wreaking more havoc on the ground. They just needed to hold.

Suddenly, the left flank broke. His Sun Sharks pulled away too fast, evading a hunting wing of Valkyries. That was the opening the Imperials wanted; a pack of flyers descended upon the Manta to Firerain's left. Their incendiary missiles coated the Manta's defenceless hull in promethium, searing away some of the alloy in a spectacular conflagration. Immediately, Firerain knew the danger of the situation, and leapt on the comms network to the Manta's commander.

"Kor'vre, disengage at once - your fuel reserves are-"
Firerain's warning came far too late. A second wave of Valkyries, aimed like a lance to slay the mighty Manta, released their barrage of rockets. The aft fuel compartment detonated, sending the Manta limping and billowing oily clouds of smoke. The Valkyries circled back, amassing around Firerain's vehicle.

The Shas'vre gritted his teeth, and barked down the comm device.
"Fall back. Fall back at once."

The two Mantas pulled back from New Pavus, propping up the limping third, and bleeding a trail of blue smoke behind them. The Sun Sharks followed suite, fending off the lazily pursuing Valkyries. Firerain muttered an unheard apology to the Gue below, and stormed back to his quarters.

-----------------------------------
+03 hours after Tiller Assault

The south side of Highknight Wall was a bloodbath.

Nassau pulled a Tiller into a shellhole, sparing him from a hail of stubber rounds. His brief elation turned to dismay when he realised the man was already dead, headless from a sniper's bullet. With disgust, he pushed the dead Tiller back into the street. The body soaked up more rounds.

Nassau placed a hand on the iron aquila around his neck. "Only in death-"
"-does duty end." A voice behind the captain growled. Nassau flinched in surprise. His hand flung to his modified lasgun, but a gnarly fat paw grabbed his before he could react. Nassau regarded the owner of the hand. The leader of Vandred's hired mercenaries, a big burly man who went by the nickname of Hound, regarded him with an amused expression.
"What? Afraid to see a living man?"

"You... kekwipe," Nassau exclaimed breathlessly. "I thought you were a bloody Imperial."

A laugh from the Hound. "Why would an Imperial risk going over the wall? The only people on this side of the wall are the lucky, and the dead."

"Which are we?"

"We'll have to wait and see," he muttered over the din. "I've been lucky more times than I care to think. One day that'll run out."

The old merc had proven very popular with the Tillers. Whilst the rest of the mercenary warband were either xenos, mutant, or otherwise just unsavoury, their leader had a natural soldier's wit. He said it was from his previous occupation. When pressed to answer, he refused to yield any further.
"I was a guardsman once," he said between drags of an oversized cigar. It seemed so small in his massive paws and bushy beard. "I was given a choice. I chose, and here I am. Was it the right one? God-Emperor knows, but I'm still alive. If he's kept me alive so far, I must have done something right."

Nassau did a recount of his equipment as the man blasted soldiers off the ramparts with his bolt pistol. The mercenary ducked down and slammed another magazine home. Jammed.

"You a pious man?" Nassau asked the mercenary. Hound nodded, readjusting the jammed ammo feed. "How do you do it?"

Without pausing, Hound ejected the cartridge and rubbed the dirt off it. "Do what?"

"Kill them. The Imperials." Nassau sighed. "I mean, we're both fighting for Him on Terra. I know I'm fighting for a good cause - Tobias Payne is a bad ruler, and he'll never give up his post until he dies. Who cares if Horatio is a bastard - he's still got Payne blood in him, and would be so much better. And these kekheads are resisting us every turn. Crion could be so much better: isn't that what the Emperor wants? Happy, working subjects?"

"All the Emperor asks is that you work for him. He's never cared about happiness, and he won't start now. We'll never know what the Emperor wants until it happens. If the Emperor wants us to win, we will. If not, we won't be alive to know."

"But we're both fighting for the Imperium! We're trying to improve it, and they're making it worse by leaving that kekwipe in charge!"

Hound sighed. "Sometimes, both armies are both right and wrong. I've been in your position before: both of us thought we were right, and fought eachother over it. Now I'm here and the others are now dead or missing. It all depends on who survives to write history. Make sure you have the quill."

Nassau readied his gun. Hound, satisfied with his bolt pistol, began to stalk out of cover.
"And how do I get the quill?"

The mercenary leader gunned down a guardsman as he shot Nassau a grin.
"Be the last man standing."

He planted a foot on the rubble and bellowed over the gunfire.
"People of Crion! The Imperial dogs stand between us and taking this damn city! Breach that gate and let them know who owns New Pavus!"

The Tillers were elevated by the man's words, and pushed closer. The Imperials doubled their efforts, pulling more men to focus fire around the main gate of Highknight Wall. Now, with every guardsman that went down, a group of Tillers could stream through the crumbling firewall, and assemble by the base of the wall. Nail bombs and incendiary cocktails smashed against the ramparts. Guardsmen caught in the explosions were either killed, or flung off the wall. The lucky ones fell on the Imperial side, fending off the waves of Rot Flies and Plague Drones. Unlucky soldiers fell amongst the Tillers, and were beaten to death, their corpses cannibalised and looted.

Nassau slid up against the wall. His rifle was nearly dry, and he was out of spare magazines. They were so close now - they just had to breach the wall. He felt around in his backpack for the demolition charge he had saved for this. His hand met with nothing, and his heart plummeted as he noticed the massive rip in the bottom of the pack, and the charge itself stuck in the middle of the killing field. The captain was about to run back out and grab the device, when a Tiller pulled him back.

"It's a deathtrap out there! You'll get torn to pieces!"

Nassau rounded on the soldier. "That's our only way through that gate! We need to retrieve that device!"

"I can help with that!" Hound had sidled up next to Nassau, alongside his other mercenaries. "My psyker specialist, Smoke - she can create a psychic fog screen to give you a bit of cover. You should be able to get to the gate."

"I'll take your word for it," Nassau yelled. He dropped his excess gear and packs, handing another Tiller his rifle. "Tell me when to go."

Psychic energy radiated from Hound's accomplice, and unnatural violet smoke blossomed up from the cracked pavement. Confusion broke out on both sides, each seeing it as a trick of the enemy. Hound pushed Nassau away from the wall into the ether, screaming for him to run.

Nassau grabbed the charge in both hands, and wheeled back around to the wall. Beams of lasfire lanced through the smoke, missing the captain by the narrowest of margins. He kept running. He kept running until a lasbolt struck him hard in the shoulder. He went down, the momentum spinning him as he hit the ground. His hand instinctively grabbed onto the charge, and activated the priming sequence. A ten-second timer began counting down.

Ten.
Nassau tried crawling away, but his arm felt dead - a hole torn straight through the shoulder.

Seven.
Suddenly, another figure charged into smoke, firing away with a bolt pistol.

Five.
Grabbing the demolition charge in one hand, he hurled the device into the gate tunnel.

Three.
The figure swam into Nassau's vision. Hound's shaggy beard.

Two.
He had Nassau by the waist and was hoisting him back to the wall.

One.
The bomb detonated.

The ground shook. Chips of debris shot out from the gate and rained on their heads. The bodies of the Imperials over the gate were cast aside, flung with devastating power. Nassau slumped down, a grin on his pain-wracked features. Hound reflected the grin, and pulled the massive broadsword from his back scabbard.

The Highknight Wall was breached.

Tillers flooded into the breach, and battle was joined.

-----------------------------------
+03 hours after Tiller Assault

As Highknight Wall detonated, a change swept over the daemonic assailants on the other side of the battleline. Their hit-and-run dives and erratic feints morphed horribly into a solid wall of flies, presenting their unnaturally thick carapace a to the guardsmen. The flies were static for once. Salvar and Scion officers down the line called for a regroup, and directed volleys at the daemonspawn. Lasgun fire scored holes in the chitin, flamers licked away at them, hotshot rounds punched through the beasts. Their line did not falter. The Nurgle daemons, true to their creator, were unmoveable, laughing off the lighter fusillades. The Imperial troops stopped shooting. Some units even moved back, supporting the other line, holding back the pushing Tillers.
None of them saw the outflankers, until the horns sounded.

Seven horns. Seven tones. Each ascended in pitch from the last.

A#1
The guardsmen kept firing, unaware of the note.

C#2
The officers called a ceasefire.

E#2
The men paused, confused.

A#2
The air became charged, electrified, violent.

C#3
The daemonspawn took a step closer, and shuffled their ranks.

E#3
Something, some things, emerged from the ruins to the east and west.
Beastmen, braying and snorting.

G#3
The Beastmen charged.
All hell broke loose.

Spearheaded by Plague Marines clad in foul, tainted power armour and mounted on vast, swollen Minotaurs, the stampede of cloven feet and mangy fur began. Stuck between the ruined Highknight Wall and the advancing Tillers, and the blockade of Plague Drones and Rot Flies, the Imperials had little room to avoid the crushing charge. Scion officers called last minute volleys on the vanguard Ungors and Centigors, slowing the advance slightly. The dead were trampled underhoof. Bayonets were fixed.

The massacre began.

Rusted knives and billhooks flashed in the dying light.
Blood painted the ground.
Disembowelled guts tripped up the cloven brutes.
Packs of Minotaurs batted aside ad-hoc firing squads.
Only the drug-fuelled frenzy of the Salvar 5th and the iron discipline of the Scion 85th stopped the Imperial forces being washed away entirely. Only the strongest of the defenders were able to punch holes in the Plague Drone wall, and escape into the city. The rest of those still alive were carried off by Garathal's Beastmen, back to the Jultan Quadrant. Their own dead were dragged away too, leaving only butchered Imperial corpses.
When the Tillers cut through the last of the Imperials holding the breach, they were met by the visage of death, and the echoes of animal screams.

It was hard to tell if the animal screams were of the Beastmen, or the captured guardsmen.

-----------------------------------
+04 hours after Tiller Assault

Tempestor Prime Gallus kept running. They all had. Scion, Salvar, the scant few PDF who had slipped out. Honour meant nothing when you were caught trapped in a closing net. He'd lost track of how many of the foul abominations he had gunned down, or beat down to the ground. It hadn't been anywhere near enough.

He had been on the wall when it blew up. Gallus himself had hit the poor fool who had rushed into the smoke to retrieve the demolition device - not that it had mattered. Someone else had finished the job. His own carapace armour had absorbed the worst of the fall damage, like most of his Scions. In fact, they were the first to plug the breach, and fight the losing battle against the swarming Tiller wretches. Gallus knew they would be dead now - abandoned with the rest of the PDF, and those Salvar and Scions too weak to escape.

A Scion adjutant caught up to the Tempestor Prime, and handed him a vox-caster.
"Tempestor Prime Gallus. Report."

"++Sir, this is Valkyrie 1, Pyrus Squadron. We've cleared the skies for now. Next objective?++"

Gallus regarded the men he had left. He had just under a thousand Scions left, around half of what he'd entered New Pavus with. Enough for Pyrus Squadron to hold. He looked back. New Pavus was as good as lost. With Highknight Wall breached and the unforeseen daemonic assistance, the Tillers had the city in their grasp. Only a new push, with more men and resources, could wrest the normally-insignificant city from the rebels. It wasn't about territory any more. It was about reputation. Reputation Gallus thrived on. Reputation the Imperium thrived on.

He jogged over to Colonel Vannon, the Salvar commander. The colonel was worn, ragged, wheezing. Still, Gallus was impressed when the guardsman greeted him, upright and proud, despite the blood red patches on his uniform. He had been fighting against the daemons from the start, an immovable force against the bestial onslaught. His best warriors had fought around him, their drug-addled brains numbing them to the horrific mutants all around them. More of Vannon's men had pulled out, but far more had perished in the attack. It had mostly been the Salvar and PDF who had been left behind and carried off by Beastmen. They were lost too.

"Tempestor Prime Gallus - I trust you have come to a decision on New Pavus?"

"Retreat." Gallus said bitterly. "We can't take a city like this. I have a thousand men and women. You have, what? Seven, eight hundred? It won't be enough."

"But we just-"

"It won't be enough."

Vannon nodded, swallowing back a sour pang of loss. "Trust this to happen just as we get here."

"It happens. Do you have transport for all your troops?"

"Yes. Our Valkyries landed at the marketplace two streets down. Have your Valkyries cleared the skies?"

"Affirmative - you get on yours first, and we'll follow suit. Where do we head now?"

"Blood Fort; the rest of my boys are stationed there. You'll have room to land and rest there, and we can file the sitrep after."

Gallus shook Vannon's hand. "I like the sound of that."

-----------------------------------
+10 hours after Tiller Assault

Gue'vesa'El Vandred sat on the edge of Highknight Wall. The city had fallen. The banner of the Imperium and House Payne had been burned. The new banner, the aquila and crossed axe-rake and lasgun of the Tillers now flew firmly, illuminated by the dying embers of the old flags.

They had no banners in the Tau Empire, Vandred thought. They had their Sept markings, but very few Tau had defined sigils. Looking at the fluttering Tiller emblem, he felt a yearning. A yearning for one.
The siege had been an experience for Vandred. Never before had he worked with non-Empire, non-hostile humans. And he had upheld his oath. His oath to-

"Busy?" Nassau spoke over the embers of the fire. Vandred shook his head. The captain stood where he was.
"So, about those allies? Who were they?"

Vandred masked his grin. "What do you mean?"

"The Imperials. They were slaughtered on the other side of the wall. Our men didn't do that, and we didn't see who did. Must have been your allies, no?"

"Oh," Vandred lied. "That was the Tau - they were driven back before they could greet you."

"I see." Nassau shrugged. "Just wanted to say how grateful we all are. Myself, the Tillers, the men you've liberated - they couldn't have done this without you."

"It was an oath, captain." Vandred smirked. "We hold our oaths in Sunstrike Cadre."

"Yes, the Cadre," Nassau chuckled. "O'Connell asked about a chance for a full alliance with your cadre, but we both know that it wouldn't look good officially. No chance of you joining us?"

"No chance," Vandred laughed. "I won't leave the cadre. Not when they've got me this far."

Nassau smiled. "Fair enough. I can't ask you join us, but could I ask you to join me in my quarters some time?"

"We'll see."

"Noted, Van." Nassau grinned. He turned to leave. "Your mercenary friend - keep him close. He's a good catch. Keep him on your leash, if you will."

"I'll tell him you said that." Vandred called back.

"No need, he's right here." Nassau laughed. Hound glared. "And Van? You've done good - Horatio wants to see the Heroes of New Pavus himself. Fancy that: meeting the man himself! You'll be told about it soon, trust me."
Nassau disappeared into the night, replaced by Hound and Mason. Mason held a holographic image of Shas'vre Firerain.

"My Lord is satisfied with your tribute, Sub-Commander," Mason said. "He's left for more pressing matters, but he told me to congratulate your cause: Father had smiled on us this day."

"Indeed," Firerain nodded. "Our Mantas were beaten back, but we took the city together. Gue'vesa'El, we will contact you soon about future operations. We may yet introduce you to our network of allies and flourish together."

"Thank you, fellow warriors," Vandred said. "You are welcome to move your forces into the sewers, should you need a sanctuary." Both Mason and Firerain nodded, and with that, they left Vandred and Hound alone.

Hound instead took a seat next to Vandred.
"It always looks worse when you've conquered it. It's not even the damage: it just is. Where's the fun with no battle?"

Vandred pushed for questions. "That's why you became a mercenary? For the battle."

"I became a mercenary to kill, bed and smoke my way to the Golden Throne. I'm not quite there yet." He chuckled deeply. "Nah. I'm here because a great man decided the governor was wrong, and fought the system. He was killed, and someone else completed his legacy. I was sworn to that man, so I swore myself to him who followed his path. I followed that path, and here I am."

The mercenary tossed his cigar over the wall, watching it bounce off of the robes of a statue.
"Hey, you know those Scions? What regiment were they?"

Vandred tried to remember. "I think they were the Eighty-Fifth?"

"Huh." Hound stared at the statue. "Small galaxy."

The stone man was wiry, yet possessed a noble air. A sword was clutched in his hand, gestured to a point in the night sky. Beneath the man, the corpses of Orks, heretics and treasonous Guardsmen were trampled underfoot. The statue was wrong in many places - the clothes were out of date to fit with Crionian custom, the man's height greatly enhanced. But the face was carved perfectly to it's likeness. To the man it was dedicated to. To the man who had an entire city named after him.
The old mercenary smiled as he remembered the statue's face.

The flag of the Tillers waved over New Pavus.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/10/06 17:08:13


Post by: chazz huggins


The entirety of Randall’s war band was gathered at the gates of Cogger Hive. The gargantuan steel door was twenty feet tall, adorned in the brass head of the Aquila. Repelling from the top of the door was crews of penal legionnaires armed with plasma cutters. It had been six weeks since the fall of the citadel the Randall’s inquisition had been fighting small pockets of resistance, they proved rather difficult to uproot. Now fairly confident in their clean up work Randall had ordered every entry way into the hive to be sealed.

Inquisitor Garrett Randall looked at his men gathered before him, the stalwart storm troopers, the rugged penal legionnaires, and the indomitable grey knights each standing at attention. Over their heads were dozens of crimson red banners fluttering slightly in the breeze. Randall looked to his left where Captain Kid stood was standing at attention, the Inquisitor turned right and saw Commissar Alenko who rested his hand on the pommel of his hip clung saber. The Inquisitor began approaching a podium so that he may address his men from a point of elevation. As the Inquisitor reached the podium he unrolled a scroll and began to read.

“I Inquisitor Garrett Randall of the Ordo Malleus, through the holy authority of the Inquisition condemn this place. It has been tainted by heresy, blighted by apostasy, and corrupted by the immaterium. In the name of his blessed majesty the Emperor of Mankind I brand any who trespass upon this site as excommunicate traitoris. So let it be”

Randall handed the scroll to Captain Kid. The captain proceeded to the massive door of Cogger hive and with hot wax attached the writ to the door under the seal of the Inquisition. Randall smiled giving a nod to Commissar Alenko. The Commissar bellowed

“About Turn!”

Every soldier made in unison made a 180 degree turn.

“Forward March!”

As if it were a single being the inquisition forces moved in formation and began marching away from the hive. Only one looked back. Inquisitor Randall watched the sun begin to fall behind the massive hive as its shadow enveloped the inquisitor’s retinue.

Later at the inquisition’s camp

The night air was cool and the stars were shining bright overhead, the soldiers were all glad to have true earth beneath their feet and an earnest sky overhead. Even those that were hive born had been made sick by the looming metal walls of the hive. From here Cogger could be seen a void black spire piercing the twilight blue night. Randall wishing to reward his men for their exceptional efforts had procured several large casks of crionian ale from a small town that was not too far to the south. Several of the officers had snuck off to the town to partake in the local inn lured by fables of beautiful Crionian women and stronger drinks.

The only place that seemed to have any degree of silence was Randall’s tent. The inquisitor sat at a table with several folders scattered about on his desk several mark classified and one branded with the holy seal of the inquisition.

That particular folder was a status report from Justicar Freeman. He had made contact with two regiments of Imperial Guardsmen and were searching the swamps for the traitors. The 1st Calian Dragoons and the 49th Redeemers regiments. So far their hunt had only turned up a cultist held quarry and no other trace of the Nurgle sworn heretics.

Another folder was regarding the fall of New Pavus, the separatists had taken the city as their own. Randall was concerned about these rebels, while they were not worshipers of chaos, he feared they might use the ruinous power to achieve their goals. At some point Lord Governor Payne’s nephew had been assassinated. Attached to this document was an invitation to the late Rodrick Payne’s funeral.

Randall looked up from his documents as the Grey Knight Beshka posted outside his tent entered.

“Inquisitor Colonel Raven is here to speak with you.”

Randall smiled “Show him in.”

“At once inquisitor.” Coldly croaked the silver behemoth.

Randall cleared his desks of his documents and set them into his miniature safe unlocked with his thumb print. As the vault door sealed Raven had entered the inquisitor’s war tent.

The colonel removed his hat and spoke “My lord inquisitor.”

Randall raised a hand “Please colonel, I’ve not yet earned the title of Lord Inquisitor. Inquisitor or Randall will suffice.” Randall then gestured to an empty chair in front of his desk.

Raven took a seat and set his hat atop the inquisitor’s table.

“I must say inquisitor, a part of me is surprised we made it out of that metal hell in one piece.”

Randall smiled

“The emperor still has plans for us it seems, but come a hard fought victory merits a toast.”

Randall reached under his desk and produced a fifty-year-old bottle of Vallorian wine along with two glasses. The inquisitor poured a glass for Raven and then one for himself.

“What shall we toast to?” asked Randall

After a moment of thought Raven replied raising his glass.

“To the men and women who laid down their lives at Cogger Hive.”

Randall raised his glass

“May their sacrifice never be forgotten.”

Captain Kid had with a handful of other officers found her way to the village bar. A neon sign read “The Lusty Lark” the sign featured a neon animated woman winking approximately every four seconds. Kid leapt from the truck and smiled, from here she could hear familiar voices shouting and jeering. Several other black military trucks adorned with the red seal of the inquisition were parked in front of the bar. Kid thought the sight hilarious, transports of the Emperor’s holy inquisition parked outside of this sleazy cabaret. The officers that were accompanying Kid had already made their way into the bar as kid approached the swinging saloon doors.

The Lark was filled to the brim with the celebrating officers, Arbitrators from the penal legion, The music was jolly, a five piece Crionian jazz band played at a rapid pace. Games were being played, darts, pool, cards, regicide. At one table Kid saw the familiar face of Sargent Holliday arm wrestling an Arbitrator while men from both of their companies cheered for their champion. Around the main stage crowded nearly fifty men each watching a woman clad only in the distinct helmet of an arbitrator dance around a brass pole. Arbitrator Halouck unmasked by the dancer and intoxicated by the barkeep sighed “I think I’m in love.” Hustling among all the chaos were nearly a dozen waiters fetching food and drink. Kid saw in the shadows of the far corner Commissar Alenko sitting alone at a table.

Kid approached the Commissar and spoke “Is this seat taken.”

Alenko smiled. “I’m actually saving it for this local girl, she thinks I’m exotic.”

Kid laughed and took the seat “Exotic must mean annoying in Crionian.”

Kid grabbed a bottle from a passing waitress and spoke “You sure know how to treat a woman; do you take all the ladies here.”

Alenko smiled “Only the pretty ones.”

Randall and Raven sat in the war tent, they had finished half of the bottle.

Randall began pouring “So tell me Colonel what is next for the 487th Panther Calvary.”

“I want to do one final sweep of Cogger, make sure we didn’t miss any of those heretics. After that someone needs to set up a quarantine.”

Randall nodded “Thorough I think we got them all but it never hurts to check. As for the quarantine I think we can leave the PDF to do that.”

Raven spoke “My men are in need of provisions.”

Randall smiled “Consider it done, I know a rogue trader who should be able to acquire whatever it is you may need.”

Raven smiled “You are generous inquisitor, but I must ask what future is there for Cogger Hive.”

Randall spoke with a sigh “Not a good one I’m afraid, the taint of the warp has corrupted the hive itself, we can’t resettle it for possibility of corruption. The best thing we can do is prevent it from spreading its cancer.”

Raven frowned “It seems like such a waste.”

Randall spoke filling his own glass “There will be greater sacrifices in the wars to come. Come Colonel another toast, to those who do what must be done to keep the Imperium safe.”

Raven took another drink, it seemed more bitter than the last.

Jethro and Amanda had found their way outside the pub, the two sat on a wooden goat coral. The shaggy creatures gathered beneath commissar and captain as Jethro threw pretzels into their eager mouths.

“So Sheppard stands up knocks the dirt away from his uniform and says to the Nova Marine, oh don’t mind me.” Alenko smiled as he reminisced about when he was a cadet.

Capain Kid laughed “He got away with speaking like that to a space marine.”

Alenko smiled “Commander Axton was a rare breed, an astartes built with a sense of humor.”

Amanda shook her head, “Whatever happened to him, your mentor.”

Alenko frowned “I’m not sure, they say he vanished after I was assigned to my own company.”

Amanda apologized “I’m sorry, it sounds like the two of you were close.”

The Commissar restored his smile and spoke “Its fine, I knew once I reached the rank of full commissar I would likely never see him again. But still I would at least like to know where he is.”

Amanda smiled and threw a pretzel into a happy looking goat’s mouth. “When I was a girl growing up my best friend was the neighbor boy named Joseph. We used pretend we were space marines and practice marching like the soldiers at parade. When we turned eighteen we enlisted in the guard. After basic training was over we got assigned to separate companies. We were being deployed to the opposite ends of the imperium. To this day I have no idea if he is alive or not. I know how it is not knowing.”

Alenko reached over and placed his arm around the captain as the main world of Crion hung big in the night sky.



Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/10/09 16:50:36


Post by: Palleus


Dorn’s shield, Krius

Lord Commissar Masamune Hattori straightened his dress uniform and frowned. He could find neither wrinkle, spot, nor blemish on it, and as such, he no longer had any excuse to delay his departure to the Governor's mansion. A knock at the door, however, brightened his countenance slightly, as he briskly walked over to his new distraction and opened the door.

“Lord Commissar.” Began his intruder, none other than Tempestus Prime Akio Goya, the man directly in command of the 1st Callian Dragoons.

“You may enter.”

Goya nodded his head as he stepped into the room, he was clad in his carapace armor, save for the helmet, which he cradled in one arm, and a packet of photographs in the other.

“One of our valkyries has returned with coordinates of what we believe to be the plague cultists’ primary base. Permission to strike, sir.” He said, handing the recon photographs over to his superior.

“Larger than expected…” Mused the Commissar as he looked them over, “Very well, I give you full authority to attack their main base. You also have my permission to unlock the armory. Bring as many flamers and melta-guns as you believe necessary. Knock those towers down, and cleanse the area as much as you can.”

“A full extermination, then?”

“Not yet. Hit their infrastructure, and see if we can drive them from this fortress. They will be easier to exterminate if we catch them on the move. Once resistance becomes too strong, pull out. I do not wish to lose more men than we have to, understood?”

“Understood, sir. Am I to assume you will not be joining us?”

The Commissar sighed. “No, I will not be joining you. The Governor is hosting a funeral for his nephew. I am to attend, representing our regiment.”

“I see, sir.” Goya acknowledged though halfway gritted teeth.

The Governor’s antics were distasteful, to say the least, to the majority of the Calian Dragoons. The regiment was founded on the principles of honor, loyalty, duty, and self sacrifice. The same things that Governor Payne seemed to have little regard for. However, the dead should not be dishonored to spite the living, and Lord Commissar Hattori put on his most stern face before announcing: “I must go, to avoid being late. May the emperor protect you.”

“And you.” Prime Goya offered along with a bow before turning to the door, leaving Commissar Hattori to gather his things.

Swords are sharpened
Honor soars to Dishonor
Death rises with dawn


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/10/12 22:03:50


Post by: Irishpeacockz


The sun rose over the Jultan Quadrant to illuminate the deserted streets, the demolished buildings and the ghastly scars of battle that plagued the city mere hours ago, Mason eyed the quadrant through a blow out wall from the school that formally acted as the Tiller’s main base of operations. Helping himself to one of Tyler’s Cigars he took in the tranquility that New Pavus now found itself in, taking a drag off the cigar and exhaling the smoke slowly he watched as the smoke drifted off into the clouds. Realising he had just watched the rising Crion sun he focused back on the quadrant to kept an eye out for his “Brethren”. The quadrant itself was lifeless with no signs of habitation whatsoever but Mason knew better, he knew the sewers were crawling with the Plaguefather’s followers but to what end ? He took a great risk in summoning a projection of his master and even a bigger one in revealing his true allegiance to that human pawn of the Tau or Ex-Tau or whoever the hell they were. Every minute the cultist’s spent close to the Tiller’s the risk of him being exposed grew and if they wouldn’t move on from New Pavus, then Mason would. Taking one last drag Mason chucked the cigar out the window, surveyed the city one last time, scratched his bare ass cheek and climbed back into bed to an awaiting Lynn.

It seemed all his years of infiltration and stealth work were put to shame as Lynn turned around as Mason slipped back under the bedsheets, Mason kept his eyes closed in the faint hope that she would believe that he had been asleep the whole time, she didn’t.

“Where’d you go handsome ?” grinned Lynn. Seeing that his ruse had been foiled Mason confessed

“Stole one of your father’s cigars”

“Another one ? you know if you keep blaming the rookies heads are gonna roll, if you are gonna keep on robbing ‘em you better own up to it”

“Fine, no more cigars for me” a few moments passed before Mason cut the silence “ you ever thought ‘bout being a Commissar ? ‘cause you sure gotta way with enforcing discipline lady ”

The retaliation was a swift slap of a feathered pillow to Mason’s grinning yet unsuspecting face. The two love birds sprang up from their slumber and began to pummel each other into hysterical submission, after the laughter had died down they dropped their “weapons” and embraced each other and leaned in for a kiss …….. Footsteps, Mason instinctively dived behind the door while Lynn fumbled for her nearby nightgown, the Tiller did a sweep of the hallway before apologising profusely for barging in on Lynn. Once the Tiller had left Mason emerged from behind the door and grabbed his briefs

“That was a bit too close for my liking” admitted Mason

“You think ? We will have to tell my dad about us soon you know”

“Sure just not right now right ?

Lynn studied her new boy toy “Sure”

The two finished putting back on their clothes and rearmed themselves before speaking again

“So Lynn i’ve been thinking …”

“Whaddya after now ?”

“Well it's my home city Nortannis, rumor has it they went silent after some plague cult rolled into the area I was thinking Tyler might have some contacts he could call upon ?”

“Probably”

“Would you kindly ask him for me ?”

Lynn looked at Mason for a second sensing another lie before answering him “Sure, i’ll ask him”


---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mason leaned against the wall that formed the perimeter for the school inspecting his autopistol that Tyler had gifted to him, it was light and was highly moddable featuring a fast fire rate and a decent enough clip size, Mason figured he could attach a silencer on the fly if the situation required, “Not a bad piece of kit” Mason said to himself as he held the piece in both hands

“I’ve seen better” chastised Lynn as she approached with ten or so Tillers in tow

Mason stood up eager to hear news of Lynn’s meeting with her father “Whats all this ?” asked Mason gesturing to the other Tillers

“A squad, it seems there is more to Nortannis than we thought, apparently the local cell over there has also gone silent and with a bitta sweet talking to daddy I managed to convince him to allow us to reestablish contact”

“Thanks Lynn this means a lot to me” the two shared a smile for a brief moment

“Grab your stuff, there will be a chimera leaving in 30 minutes”

Grinning Mason went to grab a few herbs from his “garden”, the Master must be informed.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/10/13 22:13:54


Post by: Ezra Tyrius


Smoke trailed upwards from the crashed Thunderhawk, its broken form smouldering on Zandriel’s grassy plains. A lucky shot from a Valkyrie had clipped it hard enough for it to come crashing down to the earth only few hours after its escape from Hive Cogger. Kusun stood on top of the transport’s ruined wing, which jutted upwards like a cliff’s edge over a valley. From his vantage point, Kusun could see across the sea of grass, and, for a moment, he took in the vast landscape around him.

Mount Gorgon towered above all else, the volcanic Black Sands surrounding it a visible smudge on the horizon. Some distance beside it, the vague outline of Hive Cogger shimmered in the sun’s light, smoke blackening the sky above it. Imperial transports, only perceptible by their contrails, could be seen entering and leaving the conquered Hive’s airspace, while bulky Mechanicum landing craft, most likely filled with all sorts of reconstruction material, steadily descended from the Imperial fleet overhead.

Hive Cogger. That wretched place continued to be a thorn in Kusun’s side, less for the losses his forces had incurred there and more for the betrayal that had caused them. For that alone he would strip this planet of all life it held. But not before he had made it bleed, and all those who had stood against him.

Kusun snarled. He felt his blood throbbing hard within his veins, as the thoughts of slaughter clouded his visions with streaks of crimson. It was too easy to give in to such cravings, to throw sanity overboard in favour of mindless, endless violence. He had risen above those who had chosen that path, choosing to channel his bloodlust into a cold, murderous efficiency that ended lives as much as it did worlds, and he was not planning on stooping down to their level now.

Which was why he had to stay his hand for a while longer. For now, he had to focus on fulfilling his mission, the very reason he had been sent here, for to lose sight of that would be nothing more than a second failure, one that he could not afford if he ever wanted to return to the Warmaster’s side. But his search had been unsuccessful thus far. The distractions he had indulged in had not only cost him the lives of his men, but worse still had not brought him a step closer to his target.

It was time to change that.

Starting now.


He turned towards the others, who stood and sat around the Thunderhawk’s remains. Mithras and Anlock were already looking at him, expectantly. The Necron Praetorian stood some distance away, but it too had its dead eyes locked on him. The few Marines who were busy stripping the Thunderhawk and the crash victims of their useful parts stopped their activities and turned to him as well, feeling something important was about to happen.

“Anlock.”

The Plague Champion didn’t respond, knowing it to be unnecessary.

“I have no more need of your master’s services. You and your subordinates are free to do as you please.”

Anlock didn’t seem surprised, merely nodding before turning to gather his brothers for the long walk home.

Kusun’s eyes slid towards the Necrontyr, who still stood impassively to the side.

“The same counts for you, Praetorian.”

The Necron did not even bother with any sort of reaction, choosing to simply start walking off into the distance, to wherever his brethren resided now.

As the other groups departed, Mithras limped over towards him, carefully scaling the Thunderhawk’s wing until he stood only a few steps from Kusun.

“The Nurglites’ sorcerer could have helped us find our quarry, Brother. Are you certain that sending his lackeys away is wise?”

“We have relied upon others to do our work for us for far too long already, Apostle”, Kusun snapped, his eyes boring into Mithras’. “And I know better than to place my faith in witch-kin. No. From this point on, we do this the way we should have done from the very start.”

“Does this mean…?”

“It means the hunt is on, cousin. Set loose the hounds.”


---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

On the edge of the Crionian system, a rift appeared in the void. Two monstrous jet-black hulls, edged with silver and brass, forced themselves through the tear in realspace, already powering towards their sister vessel’s position. In the bridge of the Omnia Cadunt, the two Repulsive-class Grand Cruisers’ hails echoed.

++FINEM RATIONIS AND MORS INNOCENTIAE REPORTING IN++

++WE HAVE RECEIVED YOUR ORDERS++

++MOVING TO TARGETS NOW++

++LET THE HUNT COMMENCE++



Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/10/14 10:53:10


Post by: Bobthehero


---- Crion, New Pavus, last hold out of the 85th ----

Riley turned towards Matthews, his company pronto.

'' Send a message to the Tempestor Prime, we need a lift outta here, the PDF aren't going to hold for too long ''

'' Been there done it sir, all surviving Valks are already lifting up the others, the Vultures are escorting them, even the Tauroxes are out of the city. They have no way carry a hundred plus extra men. I've also got a message from section two and seven, enemies are coming on both sides, we'll get surrounded and cornered soon ''

'' No choice then, we'll bolt it to the woods, there's no way those heretics will be able to pin us in there. Order our flanking section to pull back first, they're going to clear the way. Everyone else follow, fifth section and my command squad will hold the rear ''

'' What about the PDF, we got about an extra hundred and fifty troopers, along with a couple of chimeras ''

'' In short, we stay and fight to the last, they die, we retreat and bring them with us, the enemy swarms us, we're all dead, we retreat now, we at least salvage our forces. I don't like it anymore than you, but we might as well salvage what we can ''

Matthews grunted and went back to his clarion vox. While hix vox-op was busy handing out order, Riley went back and took position in a ruined shack, opening a vox link to his squad while making a final check up of his hellgun.

'' We're going to be rearguard, we might get engaged, might not, that'll depend on the PDF. If we end up facing Tillers, pin e'm with the volley rifles. give us time to find cover, we'll cover you and so on ''

'' So basic Stygian peel back, sir? ''

'' Aye ''

Matthews voice range in Riley earpiece

'' Sir the order's been given, two and seven have cleared the way, seems we were not completely surrounded, the rest of the sections are moving, everyone should be in position in two minutes ''

'' Relay that timing to the rest ''

The Tempestor Secundus took a look breath. A lot could go wrong in two minutes, but then again miracles have been known to happen... Riley hated that little delay, the incertainty. His training and indoctrination had beaten away most of his ability to feel fear, but the unknown before an engagement had its way to mess with his brain. Riley looked at this chrono display. A minute had passed, something exploded, loudly.

'' I am guessing that was a chimera, how far? ''

'' Four hundred meters, maybe? We'll have company soon ''

'' Keep your eyes out, we might have friendlies coming through. I want two men with hellguns to direct the survivors to the rest of the company ''

It took about thirty seconds for the first trooper to show up. There were about twenty of them, most of them frozen when the two armored shaped rose from the rubble. One trooper raised his rifle, but a quick '' Stand down gakkhead, we're with you, follow us, now '' was enough to make him realised who just appeared.

Riley glanced over his shoulder, making sure all the survivors were follow the pair of stormtroopers assigned to them. Everything was going about as well as it could have, for the moment at least. The appearance of PDF troopers was a sure sign something was about to hit the fourteen men forming the rear guard.

First contact was established a few seconds later, when a squad of traitors came into view.

'' Mark your tagets with lasers, I don't want overlapping shots, these heretics all die in the first volley '' ordered Riley. '' Volley rifles from section five, hold fire ''

Riley took aim at his target, the person in his sights had taken the time to loot one of his men, it seems. Riley gave the order and the little square held by the Scion briefly light up with the colors of various beams. Riley's target was the last to die as the Tempestor Secundus took time to search for grenades to fire on. The looter exploded, ruining his prize for other.

'' Make sure you deny the enemy our gear, section five, pull back now, we'll cover you ''

The men of fifth section had just enough time to dash a hundred meters when the rest of the Tillers showed up. '' Contact! Covering you sir! '' was transmitted across the clarion vox. A barrage of lasers lanced through the traitors, forcing them to keep their head down and allowing Riley's command team to reach their fellows.

'' We got another half a kilometer or so before we link up with the rest of our troops, after that we disapear in the forest, covering! ''

Six additionnal weapons added more firepower to the fusillade raining down on the Tillers. Riley gleefully took time to line up kill shots. Castella might have been right after all, he did enjoy killing the enemies of the Imperium, perhaps a little too much.

'' We're in position sir! Covering! ''

'' Moving! ''

Riley rose up just in time to take a burst of auto-fire. He fell back behind the rockcrete wall. The carapace armor had prevailed, thankfully, and Riley fired a grenade from his auxiliary launcher before sprinting to his men. The same process was repeated a few times before they were out of the city, leaving a trail of traitor corpses as they retreated to the rest of the company. The last group of Tillers still on their heels were quickly slaughtered as half of Riley's Fist sprung into action.

'' That'll do for combat for now '' said Riley '' Now we go as deep as possible in that forest and make the enemy forget about us ''

'' How long sir? ''

'' I'd guess about a day for the Valks to get back at us, meanwhile we'll relay on the cameoline and our skills to disapear ''

'' What about the troopers we rescued? They're not trained, nor do they have our gear ''

'' Assign a Scion to each of them, they'll take care of hiding them if need be ''





Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/10/27 03:15:47


Post by: Tactical_Spam


I am become death, the destroyer of worlds


The man Zehk threw off the roof of the temple died screaming before his spine split over a downed log. It had taken Zehk exactly one and a half seconds to cross the battlefield and scale the temple. It took hardly the same effort to kill the man. Zehk had willed none of it to happen nor would he have if it was within his abilities. It was unhonourable in Zehk’s mind to attack those who posed no challenge. Such things were qualities of lesser beings, humans, orks, eldar and the like, but it was not beyond the depraved mind of Suolyn’ne. Being forced to share the same cognitive functions was almost as maddening as the screaming Zehk was plagued by before his possession.

Zehk heard the first drumbeat toll as he descended the roof like a force of nature, smashing aside cultists with the force of a hurricane. It puzzled Zehk as to why the snake manifested so violently and volatile when he released than when it shared a consciousness with Lord Ewryht’eikl. Perhaps the snake preferred the intricacy of Ewryht'eikl’s mind than the blunt brutality of Zehk’s or maybe the snake just amplified the personality of its host; either way, Zehk would never know. Reading his own thoughts was like communicating with a broken vox-caster: it was all static. Such was it when the snake was released.

Zehk saw his world begin to move quicker, almost matching the speed at which he could process what was before him. The snake had a habit of causing mass mayhem in the blink of an eye then matching the speed of its enemy. It gave the enemy a false confidence and allowed the snake to feign defeat only to bite the head of its enemy when they faltered or overstepped their abilities.

A chain swung towards Zehk. The snake allowed it to strike his helmet and become snagged. He felt the man at the other end pull with all his might to try and pull Zehk down, but Zehk remained still. The error in the man’s ways was noticed too late as Zehk extended his arm and the snake, only a shadow on the ground to all but a psyker, shot from his arm and ensnared the man’s leg. There wasn't a cry as the snake withdrew violently, tearing the leg from its socket and from the man’s body. The man blinked once before Zehk's combi-bolter blew the man’s body to fragments of bone and viscera. That was the way most of the snake’s victims died. Tortured by the snake and mercifully put down by Zehk.

Zehk’s cultists charged past him as his eyes locked on the pile of gore before him. “Hunger… Consume…” the snake beckoned, its massive length coiling around the gore pile. Zehk felt his body begin to unknit starting at his head and ending at his naval. His legs fused together and grew in length, forming a long fleshmetal tail behind him. His upper body contorted and formed a smooth, scaled body, his upper torso transforming into a monstrous gaping maw. His new, serpentine body thrashed until both him and the shadow of the snake aligned in perfect symmetry. He turned his massive head towards the temple, flicking his forked tongue in the air, tasting the fear his form instilled in the cultists, both his and otherwise. The only cultist that stood unfazed was Schäfer. It wasn't the first possession she'd seen.

“Hunger… Consssssume…” Zehk hissed, his voice synchronizing with the snake’s. “Their fear tasssstesss good… sssssoooo fresh…”

The snake shot towards the temple at an unnatural speed, drawing the fire of almost all the amassed cultists, again, both his and the others. Auto gun fire and Las-bolts deflected harmlessly off his scales, the only damage done was to his temper. Zehk wantonly smashed aside a group of his own cultists that attempted to flee. Schäfer's bolt pistol caught any others.

“Push forward! It's just a damn snake!” Schäfer barked, drowning out the sound of her bolt pistol with her subtle psychic resonance. The snake turned and addressed approval with its body language before advancing into the temple.

Only candles illuminated the temple’s interior. Despite seeing almost constant fighting, the temple was kept immaculate. The marble floor shone reflected the candles and their flickering lights danced on the ceiling. The walls were adorned with tapestries from depicting the great crusade, though something irked Zehk's limited mental functions. Each battle was one that the Loyalists had won, according to written history, but the tapestries showed them as grand losses. It hit Zehk slowly, like a grass snake that bites your ankle. Everything seemed too perfect about the room. His mind remembered Suolyn’ne’s old domain, though he hadn't been there. The room reeked of chaos corruption, in the overly sweet and aromatic flavor of Slaanesh.

From some unseen alcove walked the cultists’ leader, draped in luxurious silks. He wore the familiar mask wore by the other Flayed Legion cultists, albeit his was dedicated to the Dark Prince. His left arm was morphed into the claw of a Slaaneshi Daemonette. His right held a ritual dagger. He took his place behind his altar and turned his gaze to the snake.

“You dare enter this holy sepulcher of Slaanesh!” the leader bellowed, his voice perfectly amplified by the proportions of the room. He lifted the ritual knife above his head and brought it down to his stomach where it stopped not even a finger length from his skin. The leader stared at it dumbfounded. The snake shared the cultist leader’s shock, but was amused at the same time. The cultist leader screamed briefly before his body imploded, staining everything with an arms reach a dark red. The snake looked around for an unseen assassin. It found no assassin, but a toothy grin in the shadows that webbed the ceiling above the altar.

A long slender arm reached out of the shadow and pulled a gaunt, pale grey, two-headed figure from the shadow. It fell to the floor gracefully and pulled the shadow with it, draping the shadow around itself like a cloak. It held out a bony hand and tore open a hole in the fabric of the Materium. Zehk, unaware that the snake retreated back into the recesses of his mind, fell before his lord.

“I didn't come here for the ceremonials, Twiceborn. Time is something I don't have and I have so much to do,” Ewryht’eikl said, gesturing two of his arms toward the portal. Zehk stood at attention and made the sign of Aquila, more of a force of habit than his acknowledgment of Ewryht'eikl’s command. Ewryht’eikl found the gesture more humourous than insulting.

“By your will, Dark Lord,” Zehk said humbly, walking through the portal and into the unknown. Schäfer saluted her lord and hustled the surviving cultists after Zehk. Ewryht'eikl laughed.

“Now that this step is complete… I can go talk to an old friend,” Ewryht'eikl murmured to himself, holding a small blood vial in his hand.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/11/12 14:14:29


Post by: Palleus


(Part 1)

The Nurgle Citadel, Krius:

“Your watch.”

The cultist grumbled as he blinked the sleep from his eyes. The sky was still dark, with only the barest rays of sunlight peeking out into the cloudy horizon.

“Five minutes. Alright?” He said, looking up at his fellow guard, and absentmindedly picking a few maggots from his arm.

“You said that ten minutes ago. And five minutes before that. Your watch.”

“Fine.” he sneered, snatching his boots up before angrily putting them on and growling under his breath “Not like there’s anything to watch out here…”

“If I had to sit still in this gakhole and watch nothing all night, then you’ve got to sit in this gakho-”

A sharp bark of a lasgun sounded, interrupting the guard as a red bolt of energy sliced through his skull, dropping him to the ground mid-sentence. The cultist, with only one boot on, scrambled for his autogun and looked to the skies. Dozens of blue grav-chute flares lit up the early morning sky as the forces of nurgle scattered for cover.

“Keep the pressure on.” Said Prime Goya, his voice calm as autogunfire and lasbolts whistled by his head. Keeping low, Goya rushed to cover and fired several shots at a nearby cultist, piercing his vital organs and leaving him to collapse into the foul swamp water.

The cultists regained their footing, and began pushing back. Holding their ground as they recovered their startled senses. Bullets flew towards the gathered scions, and even with the protection of their finely crafted armor, several that had not found cover yet were cut down in the lead storm.

A second wave of scions dropped from the skies as a wing of valkyries flew overhead, showering the defenders with cluster missiles and forcing them to dive into cover as the new batch of scions safely found cover before the firefight continued.

“Frag out!” Came a voice over the vox as a krak grenade lobbed over the crossfire, striking the top of the crumbling walls, and sinking into a mossy niche before exploding, sending a hail of shrapnel into several cultists.

Goya took a moment to look over the battlefield, the towering cathedral loomed over the dark morning’s sky, but it was still too far away, and the scions were only at the outer walls of the fortress. “Flight lead, form up with the second wing and give us some cover.” Goya barked into his vox. The shadows of the valkyries darkened the battlefield as they flew away from the battlefield.

“Prepare to move. Ready Meltaguns.”

The scions’ fire slacked, as they readied to attack the walls, leaving the cultists to creep from their positions with growing confidence, and pour more lead into the scion’s cover.

That was when the valkyries returned.

Clusters of missiles flew from the skies with a steady, cracking, rhythm. The cultists quickly rushed back to thier cover, only a few of the braver ones being caught in the initial strikes and being blasted into bits.

“Move, move, move!”

Scions darted through the rain of shrapnel, reaching the wall as the last of the valkyries flew overhead. Molten busts from meltaguns focused on two wall sections, and blasted ogryn sized holes through the outer walls, and scions formed at the breaches, reading their lasguns for the retaliation.

Gruff howls sounded over the battle’s din, and the scion teams were suddenly beset upon by enraged beastmen. Goya slammed himself against the crumbling wall, barely dodging out of the way as a beastigor plowed through the hole in the wall. The screams of an unlucky scion, run though by the bestigor’s twisted horns, filled the air.

Goya aimed his laspistol, and unloaded a dozen shots into the beast, prompting a howl as it thrashed about, throwing the scion’s limp body to the ground. It snarled as blood poured from its wounds, and turned to face the tempestor prime, its milky white eyes filled with rage. Goya tumbled to the left as the beast’s horns crunched into the wall. Rolling into a crouch, Goya pulled out a second pistol and fired. A brilliant amber burst of plasma shot out, smashing into the beast, and vaporizing a hole in its chest, leaving its already rotting remains to collapse to the ground.

Goya did not even have the time to stand as a loud bellow sounded behind him. He rolled away, as a gnarled axe cleaved into the ground, unholy runes glowed a sickly green as the bestigor tore it loose from the muck and bellowed again. Goya wasted no time, bringing his twin pistols to bear and firing another amber burst. But this beast was quicker than the last, and ducked under the deadly plasma before smashing into the mere human, knocking him into the mud. As the beast raised his axe again, Goya snapped off another plasma shot, grazing the beast’s ankle, and prompting words of warning to scroll past the Prime’s vision as the stench of burning flesh filtered through his rebreather. Goya rolled to his feet, taking advantage of his foe staggering in pain, and fired his plasma pistol again.

Red warnings flashed in his vision as the pistol fizzled, energy arcing and striking his hand before he could drop it into the muck, where its power pack’s yellow glow slowly faded. The beast recovered from his wound, bellowing a massive battle cry, and swinging his axe in a wide arc, intent to cleave Goya in twain.

Then its chest exploded.

Justicar Freedman’s storm bolter flared as it continued to rain explosive shells on the encroaching beastmen. The other nine marines joining with him, laying down suppressive fire against the beastmen as they stepped off of their valkyrie’s ramp.

“Take cover, away from the walls!” Goya commanded, holstering his pistol in favor for a meltagun left by a fallen scion, and firing a molten blast into the chest of a nearby beastman, sending its charred remains to crumple against the wall.

“Prime Goya, status?” The justicar asked as his men continued to cover the scion’s retreat.

“Resistance is proving stronger than expected. The beasts are using the breaches to hit our men before we can fire at them. I suggest we thin their ranks before proceeding.”

“That will take some time.”

“My men aren’t going anywhere until this tower falls, sir.”


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2016/12/13 04:16:23


Post by: War Kitten


In the darkness of the void a ship silently sailed toward the planet Crion. The crew onboard its bridge eyed their stations carefully as their ship began to establish itself into a favorable orbit. Their disguise would easily fool the dull witted mon'keigh, but even a fool could be lucky every once in a great while. The crew were confident that such a thing would not happen, but they knew that it would mean their heads if their shielding slipped for even a millisecond. The mistress of their ship did not tolerate failure, as many former crewmen of this vessel had discovered to their detriment, and so they monitored their sensors closely. After 2 hours had passed without incident the ships second-in-command raised the mistress on the communication system and simply stated "We are ready" before cutting the transmission.

As the transmission ceased Succubus Nacyra of the Wych Cult of the Red Grief smiled broadly, but only a fool could have missed the predatory malice in that smile. Nacyra was a predator born, the trueborn daughter of two Hekatarii, and she had been raised in the Cult tradition and way of war since she could grasp a knife. She relished any chance she could get to test her skills against worthy opponents, and this new battle ground promised to test her skills to their limits. This human world was being torn apart by several warring factions, each one unsuspecting of the knife that was poised to embed itself in their backs. The Dark Kin would strike like lightning and sow terror and pain before reaping the rewards of their work. Nacyra's smile did not diminish as she began the walk to her armory.

Along the way she passed several slaves, who were quick to avert their eyes and get out of the way as she passed. The screams of the last unfortunate who hadn't done so quickly enough could still be heard drifting up from the bowels of the ship. The Cults allied Haemonculus was quite skilled, and the fool was being quite expertly kept on the line between life and death, and he would remain that way until Nacyra grew bored of him and had him fed to the Khymera packs. Nacyra brushed past the slaves and continued her walk, and the slaves each gave a silent sigh of relief. It was not their time to die after all.

As Nacyra entered the armory she slowly walked around the rooms perimeter examining each weapon in turn. Some she would run a hand over lovingly, others she passed by without so much as a glance. Many of these weapons were trophies pried from the hands of her vanquished foes, but they would never see use again. To use the weapons of an inferior race was unthinkable after all, and so each remaining weapon would be considered in turn. After some time she finally settled on the same weapons she always did: an archite glaive, her knives, and an agonizer. Her choice made she spun on her heel to head to the gathering chamber, it was time to assemble her warriors

Spoiler:
Vok Thull. Moon #1 for deployment zone


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2017/01/04 03:54:52


Post by: War Kitten


The day could not have been any more perfect for the citizens of Canhock. The sun was shining, there was a gentle cool breeze coming out of the West, and the sky's were a beautiful clear blue. The air was filled with joyful noise. Birds sang and chirped as they soared overhead. Children screeched and screamed happily as they ran and played, men exchanged greetings and debated heartily about every topic under the sun, and women chatted cheerfully as they went about their errands. The city had known peace for the last several seasons and complacency had set in. The omens promised yet another bountiful day for the city and its inhabitants this day. The omens could not have been more wrong.

The first sign that something was off went unnoticed by the carefree citizens. All at once the birds stopped their singing, as if they sensed the presence of the predators that were now converging on the city. The next sign came, and was also completely missed by the people of Canhock, as several of the shadows throughout the city seemed to shift unnaturally, as if they were rebelling against something unnatural inside them. The third and final sign came when the sentries on the city's walks jerked backwards as their heads were vaporized by deadly accurate fire from disintegrators. A few more observant citizens noticed the deaths, but by the time they opened their mouths to about a warning it was far too late.

The screaming began instantly, as the shadows morphed into those of lithe figures clad in skin tight bodysuits, who immediately began to lash out at those around them with their wickedly sharp blades. Blood sprayed in vicious arcs as the killers reaped a terrible toll on the arrogant mon'keigh who had foolishly believed that their pitiful walls would keep them safe. Then the second hammer blow fell. From the skies several blurs dropped from at an impossible speed, and in a flash many more people were suddenly deprived of their heads as the blade vanes of the Reavers did their deadly work. Those who had the presence of mind to duck under the blurs often found themselves convulsing on the ground as tranquilizers from hidden assailants put them on the ground hard.

All across the city similar scenes played out as the Dark Eldar made their presence on this world known. Many people died in terrible agony, cut down by blades from the shadows or with poisoned shards spreading their deadly payload through their veins. Many more were disabled through non-lethal methods and dragged to waiting gunships, doomed to a fate worse than death. And just as suddenly as they arrived, the Dark Eldar were gone. The city was reeling, confused and bleeding. Many citizens huddled in fear, waiting for the next knife cut that would never fall. Canhock had paid a terrible price for their complacency this day, it was not a mistake they'd make twice

Spoiler:
Moon #1, Pendren. Rolled a victory for my slave raid and took a fair number of slaves and damaged the city


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2017/02/20 22:47:36


Post by: Sgt_Smudge


The night wind blew the field’s long blades of grass southward. The fields outside New Pavus were silent, save for the storm roiling beyond the treeline. Violent cracks of Crionian thunder echoed in the distance as Vandred looked over to his two silent companions. The Tiller officer, Major O’Connell, had a worried look on his face: his eyes darted around the field constantly looking for anything that would betray an ambush. Captain Nassau seemed much more at ease than the Major, but something in his eyes told Vandred that he was nervous. They had been waiting in this field for over an hour and it was an hour walk to reach the field from their vehicle.
Horatio Payne was not an easy man to meet.

Distant thunder cracked and rolled along the countryside. Major O’Connell glanced at his wrist watch and spoke. “They should be here soon.”
Vandred nodded and the major frowned.
“You will understand why we are cautious. Horatio is more than just our leader.” The major elaborated. He had briefed Vandred on this, but it was no harm to repeat it.

Vandred nodded. “I understand. He is the son of Governor Tobias Payne, and thus a legitimate heir to Crion. The most valid-”

"No," O’Connell shook his head. “That’s only a small part of it. Horatio is a symbol to many of us. He came to us when we needed him most and he did what we thought was impossible. He stood up the robbers and soldiers when no-one else could. He is, for many of us, the only hope for a better Crion. Crion for us lives and dies with him.”

“I see," Vandred remembered Commander Skyhunter, how he had led the cadre and all in it - Tau, Gue, Vespid, Kroot , and more - out of the clutches of the Empire. He knew what the Tillers felt keenly. "He must be incredible man to inspire such loyalty.”

“He is.” replied O’Connell.

“Over there.” said Nassau. Several pairs of headlights appeared from the south, almost lost in the thunderstorm.

Vandred and the Tillers watched as four armored trucks rapidly approached their position. Soon enough, the trucks came to a violent halt feet away from Vandred and his allies. Not a second later, nearly a dozen men leapt from the trucks, each of them carrying rifles. The soldiers quickly fanned out and determined the area was secured. A whistle later, and a man in a green beret disembarked from one of the trucks. The man in the green beret spoke as he approached O’Connell.

“Password.”

O’Connell spoke. “Silence is golden.”

The man in the green beret smiled and shook the Major’s hand. “Welcome home, brother.” He looked over to Captain Nassau and growled. “Pirate.”

“Boy Scout.” Nassau’s reply met the newcomer's.

The man in the green beret looked over to Vandred and spoke. “Greetings. You may call me Seeder, I'm Horatio’s chief of intelligence and security.”

Vandred spoke. “Well met. I am Vandred, the emissary for Commander Skyhunter, and Sunstrike Cadre."

“Now then if you all don’t mind handing my sergeant here your weapons, we can be on our way.”

The Gue'vesa snorted. "With all respect, Seeder, I've proved my loyalty to your cause. My forces were instrumental in taking AHC-02 and New Pavus, and your officers remain untouched by myself or one of my own. You have nothing to worry about."
"And you need not worry, if you hand over your weapons. I'm sure you're loyal - and a loyalist will hand over their weapons."

Vandred complied with some reluctance surrendering his pulse pistol and power sword to the Tiller sergeant. Once disarmed, Seeder spoke as he removed a bandana from his coat. “Now for the uncomfortable part. I have to blindfold you.”
"Security checks?"
"Naturally."
Vandred was more than annoyed but he had come too far to let a blindfold stop him.
“Fine.” said Vandred.

Once blindfolded, Vandred was guided into one of the trucks. The massive military grade engine roared to life and the convoy was off.



They drove for nearly an hour, before the truck came to a stop.

Seeder spoke. “You can take off the blindfold. We're here.”

Vandred removed the blindfold and began to exit the truck with Nassau and O’Connell. Vandred saw that he was in some sort of vehicle depot. Several dozen trucks stood in regimented formation, armed with turrets that held all manner of imperial weapons: everything from heavy stubbers and autocannons, to missile pods and lascannons. Crews of mechanics and captured servitors worked tirelessly to repair the battle damaged trucks.
“Follow me please.” said Seeder.

As Vandred exited the vehicle depot, two things became apparent to him. The first and most obvious was the fact that he was now underground - in some sort of cave. The sudden drop in temperature that Vandred felt during the car ride now made sense to him. Waves of dank moisture clung from the ceiling, and hung lazily in the floodlights. Stalactites dripped water periodically into water butts below, saving the water for the massive pressure hoses being used by the repair crews for cleaning and cooling. The second thing that Vandred noticed was that the Tiller base of operations was an abandoned Blood Dragon ruin. The carvings, the eroded engravings, the architecture were all familar to the Sub-Commander. It was much like the one his Cadre had encountered back on Kalhoon, thankfully without the spiders. The Tiller base of operations was undeniably impressive, he remarked. The Tillers were making use of the ancient fortifications to defend their underground home, and Vandred deduced that the cave system could accommodate thousands of Tillers. An army of them.

Vandred followed Seeder throughout the base, passing several barracks, obstacle courses, armories and other structures whose purpose were unclear. Soon enough, Vandred and Seeder reached a building where two men in green carapace armor stood guard. The two men saluted Seeder as he approached, Seeder quickly returned the salute and spoke to Vandred.
“Horatio is in there, waiting for you. I think this goes without saying, but you are expected to behave, Sub-Commander.”

"You of drone-faith," Vandred laughed, "You have nothing to fear." He passed through the bulkhead.

Seeder sighed as the door shut behind him. “Emperor I hope so.”



The room was plain and had little in the way of furnishings, save a few old book shelves and a large war table at the center of the room. The most noteworthy thing in the room was the man that stood over the table observing its maps. He was perhaps forty Terran years, Vandred guessed: his short black hair was streaked with flashes of grey. He wore plain olive fatigues and a sambrowne belt in which he had holstered an autopistol. The man made a quick note on his map before he looked up at Vandred. He smiled and spoke.
“You must be Sub-Commander Vandred. I am Horatio Payne. Welcome to Drake’s Liberty. We have much to discuss - please, have a seat.” Horatio gestured to a nearby table and chair.

Vandred took a seat and spoke “Thank you, general. I am pleased to finally meet you.”

Horatio smiled, somehow humbled by the statement. “Can I interest you in a drink, brandy perhaps? We liberated a shipment intended for father's- sorry, Payne Manor not long ago.”

The Gue'vesa accepted the small glass. The orange liquid inside glistened in the light. The Empire didn't have brandy. Skyhunter had always allowed his men drink of their choice, but human liquors were unobtainable in the Empire, save for the imitation Amosake. This proper stuff hadn't passed Gue'vesa lips in Sunstrike Cadre. Without pause, Vandred downed the shot glass. His throat burned with alcoholic fire, and he coughed loudly. Payne reacted in alarm, reaching downwards. Vandred spluttered out a cry.
"First time!"
Payne froze. Vandred glanced down through blurry eyes at the general's hand. Instead of an autopistol in his hand, Horatio held a pocket medikit. He breathed out in relief, and began to laugh. The general sat down, placing the medikit back in his uniform, and laughed back.
"First time, eh? Brandy or alcohol in general?"

"In general," choked Vandred. "We don't get your stuff in Sunstrike Cadre."
"Would you like something more suited to your taste?"
"I think this will suffice, general." The Gue'vesa winked, and the general, grinning madly, poured a second glass. Vandred toyed with his drink far slower as Horatio settled down with his own.
“I trust my men treated you well? I hope you will forgive their paranoia, we have had issues with the governor’s infiltrators in the past.”

"A necessary precaution," answered Vandred. "Although I hope it won't be necessary in the future."
Horatio looked at the Sub-Commander. "The future? You think there will be a future between us?"
"I hope so. We have a lot to gain, and from what I see, you could use every gun you can get, no disrespect intended."
"None taken. You helped us crack New Pavus, and have offered no threat. That's all the proof I need." Horatio smiled. "We're glad to have you and whatever your cadre can spare, Vandred."

"Thank you." Vandred said. “I think we need to discuss the city of New Pavus.”

“Agreed. The first order of business is renaming it. We can’t have a free Crionian city named after some Faustian despot. Did you hear the tale of General Pavus the-”

“We want you to fake surrender it to the Governor.” interrupted Vandred.

The request caught Horatio by surprise. “I’m sorry, what?”

Vandred elaborated. “You will retain control of the city, but from the shadows. Allow a token garrison to surrender, but leave some of your men in the civilian populace. This way the loyalists think they have retaken the city and you will not need to fear being attacked. You can mobilise troops in the sewers beneath the city, and create false compartments from it into key points within the city. You'll be in complete control, and the governor's troops will be spread thin holding a city they've already lost."

Horatio shook his head. "I'm impressed by your honesty, Sub-Commander. Unfortunately, we can’t do that. New Pavus was a major victory for the Tillers. It is proof that we can not only win battles, but we can keep the peace and run a stable government. That is both a boon for us, and for our morale, but also against them. We are not the rabble they thought we were. We are the future of Crion, and they must know that. The people must know that. If we lose our hold, we lose what influence the Tiller have. I am sorry, but my answer is no.”

Vandred kept his head high, and replied. "I understand, General. It's your hold, your conquest. What you choose to do is up to you. There's no hard feelings."

"Thank you for accepting this decision. I have no wish to offend you." Horatio reclined slightly in his chair and spoke. “You will forgive my bluntness, but I am still not completely sure why it is that Sunstrike Cadre has taken interest in the revolution."

“Our Cadre is rebelling against the greater Tau Empire. We were being used to hunt down Cadres like ourselves - rogue detachments, upstart commanders, those who knew too much. It's why we have so many auxiliaries. To defeat Tau, they used non-Tau to gain asymmetrical advantages. Until we rebelled ourselves. My Cadre is stranded here on Crion now and our goal is to repair our ship as soon as possible. It is was our hope that you can aid us in our effort by acquiring the materials we need for us, whilst we assist a fellow rebellion. Rebels need to stick together.” answered Vandred.

“Where will you go once your ship is repaired?”
“We are searching for a new home. As far away from the Empire as possible: we will go on until we find a home.”

"I see." Horatio thought momentarily. “What if you stayed?”

"I'm sorry?" Vandred was initially unsure what Horatio was proposing. “Are you suggesting we stay here on Crion permanently?”

Horatio smiled. “That is exactly what I am proposing" He continued. "Your Cadre can make a life here. We will need both farmers, engineers and soldiers when we retake this world and we will welcome you as our brothers in arms. You have earned it for us. You all can have good lives here. If we win this war, you won’t find a better world in this grim dark galaxy.” said Horatio Payne.
The possibility of staying never entered Vandred’s mind as even a possibility. Nor, he thought, had it crossed Skyhunter's.

Dumbfounded, Vandred arose from his seat, “Thank you Gue'vesa'O- my apologies, General. You have given us much to ponder. We- um- we will be in contact soon. Very soon.” Vandred downed the rest of his brandy, and staggered to the exit. He wasn't sure if his head was spinning from the brandy in his blood, or the offer Horatio had offered.

Horatio spoke as Vandred began to exit. “Vandred - I know I ask much of your people. I ask them to risk everything, I won't hide that. But if nothing else, consider the prize. Liberty.”

Vandred exited without another word.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2017/02/25 22:55:21


Post by: Sgt_Smudge


As storms lashed up against the Jagnar Coast, the sun was just peeking over the horizon onto the grey parapets and dripping wet gun barrels of Black Water Bastion. Earthshaker batteries stood bent like trees after a typhoon, and the spires of communication relays glistened with the night's storm. But it had survived the storm, and lived to see the sun. Black Water Bastion stood firm.

Scant acres away, the farmstead stood too. The ancient wooden structure had weathered the storm, and, soggy and miserable, remained upright. Much to Skyhunter's relief. He and his retinue had been holed up in their makeshift home for weeks now, and from the graffiti on the walls to the improvised command post, they had got rather settled down. Even the Riptide 'Thunderlord' had accrued it's own nest in the corner of the building. The Battlesuit pilots slept with their machines - either lying the hay bales next to their steeds, or curling up in the cocoons of the Crisis Suits.

Shas'O Skyhunter had no choice. His body, fused to his battlesuit, existed in a state of half-lumber at times like this. The drone-sense of his XV89 suit couldn't stop projecting various data to the commander. Even when off duty, the Tau's blood ran with data, calculations, tech-thought. Over the years, Skyhunter had learned to process the stream of thought to his subconsciousness, but sleep rarely came soundly, the oblivion of sleep interrupted by ones and zeros. The commander's eyes switched in his slumber as his suit rested against the wall.
Incoming signal.
His eyes flickered open as the hololith caster flickered into life.

"++ Shas'O Skyhunter?++" A cloaked figure, with a thick and wiry beard pushing out from the hood, greeted Skyhunter in as much grace as the virtual projector could muster.
Skyhunter's suit stirred to wakefulness.
"Vandred, my friend. I trust you bring good news."

Vandred nodded. "++New Pavus has fallen. One of Governor Payne's successors is dead, by my hand. The Tillers now hold the city, but they refuse to allow us to hold it in their stead.++"
"Not perfect news. But a blind eye makes a Vespid useless not, so they say. Did they say why?"
"++They wish to indicate their strength at leading. It's good for morale, I gather.++"
"Understandable. Anything else?
"++I have met with the leader of the Tiller rebels; Horatio Payne seems like a good man. A leader of personality, not power. Many Crionians believe he is the best suited for the lordship of Crion.++"
"And is he?"

"++Possibly. He is descended from the current Governor, so he has the right bloodline, which humans seem obsessed with.++" He petted his sword, slung at his hip. "++ But he has the common folk at heart, a trait that makes him well liked. It is my belief that if Horatio were to come into more power and influence, the general populace may see the Tillers as a more powerful force. With that regard, if the Tillers achieve consistency, commitment, and flexibility, they might achieve- ++"
"The snowball effect. Very good, Vandred. Reading up on Aun'vici's 'Essays on Minority Influence', have we?"

"++Perhaps, Shas'O.++" Vandred laughed. "++If the Tillers achieve more victories, and show that they are a strong force, then they might have more supporters amongst the people of Crion.++"

"That may be so, Gue'vesa'El. But the question many of our men ask - why do we help the Tillers?"
"++Kor'El Darkspear's query, no doubt.++"
"And Mirrorstone's." Vandred looked up in slight disbelief. Skyhunter explained. "She might accommodate Gue within the cadre, but outsiders? It's hard to breach stone, Sub-Commander. Now answer me: why does it matter to us who rules this world? We are safe, in neutral territory. Aside from the Be'gel, whom we have already defeated in battle before, who do we raise our guns towards?"
"++We raise our guns to oppose tyranny and corruption, Shas'O. Governor Payne rules Crion with an iron fist, and his taxes will cut into Crion deeply to stop him being amputated from his seat of power.++"
"And that matters because?"
"++Because that is what we oppose. We escaped the jaws of one tyrant. Are we not bound to rescue others from the same fate?++"

Skyhunter nodded sagely. "Good. You understand what many do not. Our needs are important, but for every life we save, we save someone's world. If we get nothing from this, if we free more than our number, we will have succeeded."

"++There is more news, Commander. Horatio has offered us a reward for our service, if we help him sieze Crion from Payne. Settlement.++"
"On one of it's moons? The asteriod belt?"
"++Better. On Crion itself, as part of the populace.++"

Skyhunter paused. He checked his suit's systems, then again. The datafeed was working fine. His ears had not betrayed him. Vandred waited expectantly.
"Horatio Payne offers us fair settlement on Crion for our service?"
"++Yes, Shas'O. For all of Sunstrike Cadre.++"

Skyhunter ran the idea through his head. He hoped of leaving this world behind, taking his cadre elsewhere in the stars, to find a world for their own. But this one? Offered freely for service, to overthrow a tyrant - Aun'chi's grey face popped up in Skyhunter's mind. The losses one Tau could cause, the lives lost on ethereal words. Aun'chi's face merged into the projection Skyhunter remembered of Tobias Payne. The fat governor laughed as Tau and Gue alike were cut down, their blood keeping their ship afloat.

"Tell Horatio he has my interest. I must confer this with the rest of the cadre: I will have no-one fight for this if they choose not to. In the meantime, make your way to AHC-02. Take your men and as many Tillers as your compatriots will allow with you. I have a gift for Horatio Payne."

Vandred nodded, and the hololith vanished. Skyhunter walked to the wall of the farmstead. Through a slit in the wall, he watched as the sun rose over Black Water Bastion.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2017/02/26 17:24:44


Post by: Sgt_Smudge


Two days had passed since Vandred had got in contact with Skyhunter. In that time, Sunstrike Cadre buzzed with trepidation of an attack. Alarmingly so, in fact. Skyhunter had made a note to evaluate both himself and his troops - such readiness to go to war after their service to the Empire was.. curious. But he felt the call for it himself. This felt right. Finally, after so long of the constant drilling and patrols, Sunstrike Cadre would bring their strength to bear against a real target - Black Water Bastion.

Vandred and several score of Tiller rebels had made their way to AHC-02, with Captain Nassau leading the Tiller contingent. The underwater city was key to Skyhunter's plan, and soon, the bathyscaphe bays were thronged with Tillers and Breacher Teams ready to strike. Skyhunter only hoped that his plan worked.
He knew how to siege a location. The trick was doing it quickly enough that the enemy couldn't get reinforcements, and that his own forces were not incriminated. Already, he had failsafes if his plan failed.

The initial bombardment was the fulcrum upon which the operation rested. Darkspear, her seeker drones, and whatever seekers his Crisis suits had on them, would light up Black Water Bastion at key structural points. Weapons arrays, stockpiles, armouries, and communication relays would be targeted here: he had already located all these facilities within the base months ago. He even knew the guard routines, stagnating and predictable - he knew exactly when to strike. His flyers, armed to the teeth with Seeker missiles, would circle far out of range of the base, relying on the extreme range and drone AI of the missiles themselves to find the markerlights. They could strike without even being seen. Maximum impact, maximum distress, maximum destruction.
If the Bastion held out, and any communication relays remained, the attack would have to be scrapped. His flyers would return to Cadre Command on Kalhoon, and the attack would wait another day. For time's sake, Skyhunter hoped that wouldn't be the case.

He and his Crisis teams were unmoving in the tall crops of the farmland. Markerlight drones hung lazily by their side, ready to light up Black Water Bastion with their damning gaze. Metres away, Shas'El Darkspear lay prone, her own markerlight trained on the communication beacons. Skyhunter spoke to her over the comm-channel.
"It is time, Shas'El."

She replied, unmoving from her sniping point. "Are you sure, Shas'O?"

"Yes, Sub-Commander. Unleash the missiles."

The markerlight painted the side of the primary comms tower with invisible light. The light compliment of sentries, as predicted, were unaware that the attack had even begun. Other markerlights lit up Earthshaker batteries and secondary communication relays. Screaming low across the sea, the shoal of Seeker missiles hid away from the Bastion's scanners. A tired guardsman noted the slight electromagnetic disturbance on the scanners, and called his superior officer over. The officer yawned, exhausted, and tapped on the screen, expecting it to be a mere malfunction. As he removed his finger from the console, the faint signal had vanished from it's spot. It had moved closer to their position. Before the officer could even open his mouth to sound the alarm, Black Water Bastion was struck by the wrath of dozens of Seeker missiles.

Ammunition stores for Earthshaker cannons detonated, sending catastrophic chain reactions down the walls of the sea fort. Aerials and antennae were ruined, reduced to blackened and twisted stumps by the pinpoint barrage. Weak points across the curtain wall were mercilessly attacked, broken by the assault. Small sections along the sea wall collapsed and fell into the inky black sea, taking entire squads with them to a watery grave. The lucky ones were dashed to pieces on the rocks. The high tide swallowed them all - alive and dead - into the Blackwater. More seekers fell, methodically targeting up and down the base with ruthless precision. Gunnery crews scrambled to escape off the ramparts, only to be flung off by the shockwave. Guardsmen broke and scrambled to the nearest cover they could find. To the confused defenders, it seemed as if the sky was falling in, lit by molten metal and the endless bombardment of missiles. Maybe ran for the inner bunkers, only to find the bunker caved in - struck with impossible precision. As the last Earthshaker battery burst into orange flame, Skyhunter gave the second order.
"First Wave, attack!"

The bombardment didn't slow up. Instead, the missiles dropped their firing rate, firing randomly and indiscriminately at the base. Their objective had changed. The Bastion was crippled, helpless and alone. They didn't need to do any more damage. They were just keeping the defenders pinned down.
From below the inky sea, bathyscaphes breached the water, swimming up past the dead and dying guardsmen. Their wrought-iron hulls, converted into landing craft, crunched onto the grey sand of the beach front. and the pod doors opened up. Tiller soldiers, freed from the cramped confines of the bathyscaphes, now charged up the beach front into the guns of the stunned defenders. Their undisciplined potshots as they charged took down a handful of guardsmen. Then the defenders fired back. Firing lines of lasrifles cut down Tillers as they swarmed up the slope, sending their punctured bodies rolling down the slope. Rapid moving teams erected heavy stubbers and heavy bolters, mowing down Tiller troops. The Tillers were outmatched - even disorientated, shocked and stunned, the guardsmen were still capable warriors. Trained and desperate, they held the onslaught of Tillers back, the high ground giving them the edge. The black water now ran with thick red blood.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Captain Nassau ducked as a heavy stubber spun around to target him. Most of the white-hot bullets missed his head. A rogue shot smashed into his helmet. Nassau kept running, threw the ruined helm aside and crouched behind a fallen chunk of the wall. Taking a deep breath, he peered round the corner and shot the gunner with his pistol. The shot found it's mark, and the stubber fell silent. A handful of Tillers ran up to join him, and hunkered down beside their leader.
"Which of you has a damn vox-link?"

"Don't you have one, sir?"

"Look at me! I don't have a damn helmet anymore, gakbrain!"

"I have one sir - patching through to Vandred now!"

Nassau grabbed the speaker horn of the vox caster, and yelled over the storm of bullets.
"Vandred, this is Nassau - do you respond?"

"++ Still here!++" Vandred's voice echoed through. "++What's your situation like?++"

"Pinned down, about two hundred metres away from the breach point. My men are getting torn up out there, Vandred. We need to advance! Can you see what guns they have?"

"++Four or five heavy stubbers, two heavy bolters, maybe a multilaser?++" As Vandred said it, Nassau paused, and looked back at the bathyscaphes.
Their hulls, built to withstand massive pressure, were undamaged. Evidently the defenders hadn't expected the Tillers to have armour. As they were, at the bottom of the beach, they were useless. Unless...

"Vandred, I need you to get those bathyscaphes up the beach to us!"

"++ You what?++" Vandred's disbelief was evident.

"Get the bathyscaphes up here as mobile cover!"

"++Their track units weren't made to go all the way up-++"

"Get them up as far as you can then!"

He heard the sound of Vandred shouting orders to the pilots of the vehicles, and the tank-like beasts lumbered up the slope. They crushed scree under their screaming tracks, and metre by metre, the vehicles made ground. Tillers pinned behind the rocks closest to the sea now moved up, sheltering behind the bathyscaphes as they continued up. Nassau yelled, and ordered the men around him to open fire indiscriminately. Now pinned, the defending fire abated momentarily. Nassau dashed up behind another bathyscaphe, and drew his power sword. They were less than a hundred metres to the defending position.
"Men of Crion, fix bayonets! Charge on my signal, and kill these bastards!"
The sound of bayonets being slotted into place was drowned out by the sound of the tank treads, and the frantic bellowing of the guardsmen. Fifty metres. Nassau drew a brace of grenades from his belt, and hurled them into the Imperial lines.
"Charge!"
The grenades exploded, and the Tillers were on top of the Imperials.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"++The Tillers have made contacts with the defending forces.++" Vandred's voice came through over Skyhunter's comm-link. "++The defenders are starting to pull back and flee inside the Bastion.++"
Skyhunter grinned. "Well done, keep the pressure on. Pass my commendations on to Captain Nassau." He rose up from the crops. The defenders were too busy facing off the Tillers to notice.
"Begin the Second Wave."

The bombarding stopped. This fact was lost upon many of the defenders, now fighting for their lives against the Tiller rebels swarming the sea wall. High above Black Water Bastion, and blind to the ruined scanners below, scores of Crisis Suits began to descend. Their jet thrusters slowed them down as they descended onto the fighting below, and soon, the Tau had engaged the Imperials head on. Caught off guard by the new enemy, the already embattled Imperial line split, and attempted to bring their weapons to bear on the Crisis Suits. Lasfire glanced pathetically off their armour. Flamers and burst cannons fired back in response, and the defenders were not so lucky. Skyhunter glided over the curtain wall, his retinue alongside him, and joined the fray. His Crisis suit was a weapon in it's own right, battering aside guardsmen and forcing a swathe of them around him. Many attempted to pierce his metal hide with their bayonets and swords, but they achieved nothing. Skyhunter's fusion blades ignited, and soon the scent of charred guardsman and cloth filled the bloody air. Suddenly, the sky darkened, and something landed with colossal force behind Skyhunter. He turned round, and was greeted by the massive form of 'Thunderlord'. The Riptide suit lurched, and fired a string of bursts from it's ion accelerator. Guardsmen on the walls, armed with sniper rifles and trying to pick off the Crisis Suits advancing through their lines, wheeled round to engage the new target, only to be evaporated by the cannon. Skyhunter saluted the giant iridium beast - it rose it's shield in receipt.

All around him, the Imperial Guard line fractured. Gunned down by Crisis Suits, pummelled by the close quarter brutality of Skyhunter and his retinue, and without any hope of reinforcement, many Guardsmen tried to break through the Tiller line and into the sea to escape. Those who were not overwhelmed by the screaming Tillers managed to make scant feet from the melee before being gunned down by Vandred and his Pathfinders, lying in wait in the bathyscaphes. The last Imperials were cornered, and cut down to the last man by the axe-rakes of the Tillers.

As the adrenaline began to wear off, Orca dropships descended, and Fire Warrior teams disembarked into the battered remains of Black Water Bastion. Led by a Crisis Suit with a flamer, they escorted Earth Caste personnel within the inner bunkers to plunder the base's data banks. Tiller and Imperial corpses alike were scooped from the beachfront, and torched by the remaining Crisis Suits. Overhead, the Tau airforce circled like vultures.

Black Water Bastion was taken.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Captain Nassau, drenched in saltwater and blood, approached Commander Skyhunter.

"So. You're Commander Skyhunter. Vandred's told me about you."

"As has he about you and your commander. I hope he appreciates our gift to him."

"We lost a lot of men for this, Commander. Although they died willing for the cause."

"I apologise for your losses, Gue'vesa. My cadre will repay their sacrifice eight times over. You may hold command over this fort until rights of conquest are confirmed, Gue'vesa."

"My... thanks, Commander Skyhunter." Nassau left the Tau commander, and sat down on a damp wall of sandbags. In the morning sun, the green banner of the Tillers flew triumphantly over the bastion. The Tau had declined to place their own colours beside it. Footsteps splashed closer towards Nassau. His gaze flitted to the owner, and he smiled. Sub-Commander Vandred sat beside Nassau.
"It's done. We have a holding on the mainland."

"Was it worth it, friend?" Nassau said. His hand trembled, gripping onto the sandbag.

Vandred took it and held it firm. "If you win this war, yes. Even if not, they died for what they believed. That was their choice to make, and theirs," he gestured to a pile of Imperial bodies, "and mine. Once you're dead, you're dead. But it's all about what you died for that matters. And I'm sure they died for their belief. That's all you can ask for."

Nassau breathed out, and smiled. "My thanks, Van." He turned to see Vandred's dark coloured face, flecked with grit and dust. "I have a question."

"Yes?"

"Your commander called me a 'Gue'vesa'. What is that?"

"He called you that?" Vandred stroked his beard. "It means human helper. 'Gue' alone is considered an insult within the Empire," he spat on the ground, "but 'Gue'vesa' is considered a good phrase. Respect, helping one another. If he called you that," Vandred rose, "then he considers you, and the Tillers, a worthy ally."
The Fireblade turned a walked away. As Nassau reclined further into the sandbags and shut his eyes, he half-imagined he saw the banner of Sunstrike Cadre next to the Tiller flag.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2017/03/11 22:20:12


Post by: Irishpeacockz


The Chimera rumbled onwards as it had been for hours with nothing but the engine filling the silent void inside apart from the odd chesty cough from a particular tiller who was fond of a Lho stick or three spreading his coughing fits to everyone else in the poorly ventilated tin can. Mason sat directly opposite a stern looking Lynn, who had for the most part ignored him. Awkward as it was Mason didn’t mind the silence, it gave him time to think which he badly needed and it kept him from making dreaded eye contact with Lynn. How would he break the news of him being a chaos infiltrator ? Or should he even do it at all ? That was only one of his problems, He missed a scheduled check in with his master well he didn’t, Garathal did and with rumours amidst the tiller rank and file about some force heading into the swamp he feared the worst. Readjusting his seating position in the vague hopes of returning feeling to his right arse cheek Mason returned to his present surroundings. To Mason’s relief the grumbling APC came to a gradual stop just before Jackson could light up another Lho stick. The ragtag occupants of the Chimera lazily disembarked to stretch their legs and to survey their surroundings. The driver had driven down a muddy path that represented some sort of a road to some sort of encampment, long abandoned by the looks of things. The benches and tables showed signs of rot along with most of the timber shacks, birds made their homes at the crown of these decrepit structures with many cold campfires dotted around the premises. Thick trees formed a natural perimeter around the camp with the road being the only viable way in, and out. The trees thinned out to the north east where the sun’s rays pierced the wooden bulwark to reveal the port city of Nortannis in all her glory. The driver turned the Chimera around and took off back the way he came, leaving his tattered brothers in the dust.

“Home Sweet Home” said Mason sarcastically, “Got any idea what to do now ?”

Lynn threw down her gear “We wait for a contact from inside the city” she proceeded to rest against one of the many trees and close her eyes, the other Tillers quickly did the same.

Mason grabbed his rifle “Guess i’ll keep watch then”, Mason choose a nearby tree as his post and began to climb, though he swore he saw a smirk on Lynn’s face as he was passing by.

From atop his wooden spire Mason could see Nortannis in all its splendour, her vast port, once the lifeblood of one of the most diverse markets on Crion is now filled with her ships, tied up and left to wither much like the populace left outside her formidable gates. The restless crowd had grown smaller since Mason’s last visit, he quickly devised that either starvation or the Tillers were to blame and judging by the lack of bodies Mason knew he found his answer. Blood tarnished the captivating walls of Nortannis as stern looking guardsmen atop the gates were fixated on the turbulent crisis at their gates. The once cautious troopers were now firing at anyone who drifted to close to their refuge with their lasguns lighting up the night's sky periodically as one refugee or another thought he could take Nortannis down by himself. The city was tired not quite to a hive cities standard but still formidable with Lawson Barlow’s Residence resting at the central spire casting it’s shadow over the city like a silent observer. The lower tiers were for the middle class with the harbour being at the bottom, just off the harbour was the marketplace, once the pride and source of Nortannis’ wealth and glory. Now cut off from the outside world the place was a shadow of it’s former self the bustling stalls were replaced with a rationing site and the cheers and laughter was replacing with grumbling and moans. A noise from below caught Mason’s attention, not moving a muscle he tracked the noise to the road where a shrouded figure approached nonchalantly . Mason wasn’t the only one to hear the strangers approach and soon the entire camp was up grabbing weapons and pieces of cover, ready to defend their rotten camp. The man, raised his hands

“Crion’s people shall be free…..” the man began

“With the blood of the arrogant fool” finished Lynn “What word from Nortannis brother ? You have been quiet these last few weeks, trouble ?”

The veiled figure revealed his scarred face to his gathered brothers, the man was clearly experienced or lucky or rather unlucky depending on one's own personal views . He bore a vicious scar from the right corner of his forehead back down diagonally across his freshly shaven head. His face was covered with dirt and grime, bags lay under his eyes and fresh little cuts suggesting recent skirmishes or fist fights. Overall the man seemed utterly ungroomed bar the walrus moustache that resided just below his misshapen nose and above his crooked smile.

“You mean beside the usual ?” the man cracked a grin revealing the yellow teeth behind his majestic moustache “Yeah, things have been tight in Nortannis between the cultists in the swamp and Barlow’s paranoia the old brown noser has called in some crazy bitches who call themselves The Order of the Silver Night or some gak to lock down the city, hence the poor feths outside starving to death and wasting away. They patrol many of our old neighbourhoods and raid us every once in awhile but we survive, always have,always will and that stunt outside the gates has given us a few sympathisers even a few recruits”.

Lynn nodded listening intently trying to grasp the situation “What's your name brother ?”

“Lieutenant Spencer Mills Sir”

“Well Lieutenant I just got one question for you, how did you get out and more importantly how are we gonna get in ?”

The yellow teeth flashed again as the creepy soldier revealed their route into the city that was besieged by fear ….







Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2017/03/20 04:31:58


Post by: chazz huggins


Ulfric Stormclaw watched the as yet another dozen Leman Russ battle tanks descended the thousand-mile shaft of Luna Maximus’s elevator. It was the fifth shipment of tanks they had received of tanks in the last fortnight and they were welcome sight to the battle weary imperials but Ulfric knew that they alone would not be enough to halt the Dread Mob. Ulfric looked to the south and watched the sun set an hour early behind a tar black ocean of promethium exhaust. For seven weeks Ulfric and his comrades had been battling the unstoppable ork horde doing everything in their power to halt them. The Imperials had won several key skirmishes against the orks and had killed several of their commanders but these victories were all pyrrhic and only delayed their inevitable onslaught. Now the dread mob was but a day’s march from the elevator and the defenders of the Imperium were seemingly out of time and options. Ulfric turned away from the approaching horde and headed for the great war tent at the base of the Elevator.

Ulfric entered the tent to find the other commanders had already gathered and started speaking without him. A PDF Lieutenant who Ulfric knew as Sherman spoke hastily before the gathered officers.

“We still have time to evacuate most of our personnel if we leave right now and abandon some of our vehicles.”

Captain Taranis held his terminator helmet in the crook of his arm and spoke down to the Lieutenant.

“We have orders to hold this elevator Lieutenant, to abandon it would not only be an insult to the imperium but a disgrace to the Emperor.”

“What difference would dying here make? If blood is the emperor’s currency let us not spill ours wastefully.” Replied Sherman

Chaplain Odius responded to the man.
“Your speech is bordering on the line of cowardice Lieutenant Sherman, you may either contribute in finding a solution to stopping the dread mob or flee and be die a traitor’s death.”

Sherman shut his mouth as the crusaders continued on.

Tempestor Prime Riley spoke
“Our first priority is to deny the orks passage off this moon even if that means destroying the elevator.”

Captain Dallaire of the PDF spoke out in concern.
“My lord please forgive me, but that would be unthinkable, the elevator is ancient we could never hope to construct another, if we lose that we might lose the entire moon forever.”

Riley raised his voice at the Captain.
“In case you didn’t notice were at risk of losing this entire damn system if that mob gets control of that elevator, and I don’t see any other option at the moment.”

Queen Moira Valorn spoke “Riley is right we can blow the elevator now and prevent this cancer from spreading any further, it is by no means ideal but it is likely our safest course of action.”

“No” came a low growl.

Acting Commander Ardan of the Emperor’s Hounds spoke his once regal purple carapace was now chipped and torn, freshly scarred by the fearsome dread mob.

“Brothers I have lost many of my own to this bastard dread mob and I will not let their deaths be in vain, my chapter will hold here we will let no xeno pass. I ask who among you is with me.”

Ulfric was the first to step forward.

“You will have my axe brother.”

Captain Taranis pounded his helmet against his breast plate in approval. “Not another step brother, the Carcharodons will stand with you.”

Queen Moira bowed “House Valorn will stand with you and your Hounds Commander.”

Captain Xenthes nodded “We will show them our fury.”

Tempestor Riley sighed and spoke “Wouldn’t be our first suicide mission, alright me and my men are in.”

Captain Dallaire laughed “Its not like we have anywhere to run to, isn’t that right Sherman.”

The PDF lieutenant shook his head “I have no idea why you off worlders are so eager to die, but so be it we will hold.”

Ulfric smiled “So it is agreed. This ends tomorrow.”

Riley spoke “If we intend to do this we need to do it right, we have to take out that Gargant.”

Ardan nodded “Indeed, and I already have a plan for that.”

The Hound commander leaned over the map and began placing tokens on it.

“The PDF has dug into these trenches they are just under twenty thousand strong. They make up the bulk of our forces and as such they will act as a spike strip against the Dread mob, I ask that you all leave the majority of your men in the trenches with the defense force as they will need all the fire power they can get.”

Ardan placed a token that represented the dread mob.

“The Gargant itself is at the center of the horde, we estimate it is surrounded by anywhere from five hundred thousand to a million orks, and several hundred other lesser ork vehicles, trucks, bikes, battle wagons, you name it. They are the gargant’s vanguard. All of this is meaningless once we destroy the gargant.”

Ardan took several more tokens and placed them in front the trench.

“We will take our most elite and veteran forces here, through the combined fire of the Crionian leman Russes, House Valorn’s knights, and whatever other heavy support we may have we will punch a hole in the center of the mob and with our elite strike force we will plunge into the Gargant’s heart like a spear.”

Moira raised an eyebrow of concern, “And just what is it you will once you reached the Gargant, we’ve fired nearly everything we have at it and every time we blow a hole in its armor the orks repair it in a matter of seconds.”

Ardan spoke “Once we are close we will use melta weapons to tear holes in its armor and then we will conduct a boarding action.”

Riley laughed. “You want to just run up to a twenty ton killing machine and try to board that thing? Fething space marines.”

Ulfric smiled “I like this plan let the green skins see the faces of their destroyers.”

Riley rolled his eyes “I had a feeling you wouldn’t want to wear your damn helmet.”

Captain Xenthes spoke “It seems to be our best option for taking out the gargant.”

Ardan nodded “It is, once we bring that thing down the horde will collapse.”

Riley sighed again “Like I said not my first suicide mission.”

Ulfric smiled “So its settled, rest now friends tomorrow will be hard won.”

With that the gathered officers adjourned, they would need to brief their men on the plan and make preparations for what was to come.

The sun arose behind the crusaders and the long shadow of the elevator cast itself over the long trenches. The PDF trenches went on for miles they, thousands of PDF troopers laid in wait their las rifles trained on the approaching horde. Among these flaks armored regulars were the heavily armored crusaders, hundreds of the 85th scions accompanied by dozens of marines from the Space Wolves, Carcharodons, and Emperor’s Hound’s Chapter, with them were also the Neophytes of the Stone Wardens sniper scopes searching for green skins. Towering over the entrenched defenders were the knights of house Valorn, their shadows blanketed the guardsmen they stood behind. Though still miles away the horrible horde could be heard like distant thunder, it was a horrible mixture of cracking and crunching of rusted machines, thundering war drums, and the tremendous thud that accompanied each step of the massive ork Gargant. As they drew near words began to take shape and distinguish themselves from the general orksish ambiance.

Today we kill and chew deyz bones
Today we burn and smash der thrones
Today we stomp make dem wrecks
Today we rise and break deyz necks.
Because dats what orks do.

A single guardsmen began taking a step backward but a Carcharodon marine placed a hand on his shoulder. The PDF soldier returned to his spot along the trench and leveled his las rifle at the oncoming black cloud.

Three stone warden scouts atop their bikes rode furiously toward the trenches. The squad sergeant began shouting at the defenders.

“Twenty minutes!”

The scouts dismounted their bikes and joined the rest of the defenders along the trenches trading bolt pistols for sniper rifles.

Time beat on and the ork horde seemed to grow both louder and lager.

The spear head strike force was gathered just behind the trench waiting for the signal to charge. The spear consisted of three land raiders from the Carcharodons, Space Wolves, and Emperor’s Hounds, three Taurox armored personnel carries from the 85th, and three escort chimeras from the PDF Captain Dallaire took command of one of these tanks.

Riley sat in the taurox with nine of his best men, they carried with them a mixture of plasma, melta, and hell guns and a large number of Melta bombs. Riley looked at his wrist mounted computer and saw that the elevator charges were primed and ready. Should the battle would become unwinnable he would not allow the orks to take the elevator, should he fall the detonation codes would be transmitted to Riley’s second in command. Riley didn’t bother to mention these bombs to any of the other commanders, as he simply didn’t want to have the argument over who would control the detonator. Its not like them knowing particularly mattered if he blew the elevator they were likely all dead or about to be overrun by orks. Still the bombs gave Riley some comfort knowing he did his part to prevent this small corner of the Imperium from being overrun by orks.

Riley looked at the the roof hatch on the top of the Taurox and rose so that he might poke his head out. The muffled thunder of the ork horde became clear as the hatch opened and Riley looked to the horizon and saw only a tide of steel and green charging beneath a black sky.

The Gargant Interior of was massive it hosted well over a hundred mek boyz and all of their Gretchen assistants. The ork meks were constantly making repairs to the Gargant, always welding slabs of steel to holes in the armor, replacing blown fuses, and putting out the occasional fire. Big Mek MegaFang the Gargants architect made his residence in the walker’s head, from there he not only controlled the behemoth but also held his WAAAGH council.

Big Mek MegaFang set the Gargant to auto pilot which literally meant he propped the controls into the forward position with a stick. MegaFang approached his surviving ork entourage which at its peek numbered over a hundred but was whittled down to only two. The first was Leftenut Ratskull “Da Lucky” he had the face of a weasel and the teeth of a piranha, his flesh was a particularly pale shade of green. Thee second was Weirdboy ZogDog who was now more metal than green. After his last encounter with the Emperor’s hounds Zogdog was left without his favorite arm and covered head to toe in third degree burns, but MegaFang was able to salvage much of his favorite weirdboy and even gave him a few improvements. Their chief was the supreme Big Mek MegaFang. MegaFang did not trust any of the meks or pain boyz in his waaagh enough to let them operate on him and as such the ork preformed all of his bionic implantations on himself without the use of any anesthetic or good judgment. Regardless the amateurish surgeries were all successful and as such MegaFang grew to prominence through an ability to tolerate absurd amounts of pain and a collection of impressive bionic modifications.

ZogDog delivered news to his boss “Boss, we just got a message from dat off worlder git Nox Warprida, he’z offering to help uz take da skyvator but we’d have to postpone the assault by a couple of hourz.”

MegaFang snarled. “Dat git finks himself so high and mighty runnin around tellin everybody he’s da big boss, I tell you wot I’z da biggest boss dere iz, look at my Gargant, wots he got some snazzy bike dat goes kinda fast, big Gorkin deal, I bet I could build a bike twice as fast in af da time.”

RatSkull sniveled “He just wants in on our victory boss, da git knows e aint ard enough to win any fer himsef.”

MegaFang growled “You tell Nox Gitrida dat he can Zog off I don’t need him or his zoggin ladz of anorky no more.”

ZogDog laughed as he exited the room “Wif pleasure boss.”

RatSkull spoke as ZogDog exited. “We should be reaching stomping distance of da humiez in just a bit boss.”

MegaFang returned to the Gargant’s controls and smiled “Good.” RatSkull paused and scratched himself. MegaFang turned and sae his Leftenut still standing there, the Mek shouthed “Da Zog are you waitin fer get out dere wif da Vanguard!”

RatSkull snapped to attention and hurried off to his battlewagon. When the nob left Ratskull went over to the armored hatch door that was the face plate of the Gargant, he looked down to his two newly captured prisoners.

Cearul Adair had spent the last three days slipping in and out of consciousness, he would awake for minutes at a time to see he was perhaps six hundred feet above the ground, bellow him all he saw was a horde of orks and machine clamoring and shouting, in front of him he could see the sky piercing needle that was the Space Elevator, below that he could see distant banners Aquila flying defiantly over trenches. Cearul was striped of his armor and left only wearing his body glove, he felt his arms now crucified to the steel plates of the steel hull of the Gargant, is legs hung freely putting tremendous strain on his arms. To Cearul’s left he saw Alpha Faolan in a similar predicament only he was hung upside-down by shackled ankles. Cearul called to him “Faolan” But he got no reply.

Cearul was unsure weather or not he was already conscious when he the ork began shouting down at him.

“Oi, Beakie, you awake yet.”

Cearul having neither the energy or interest in speaking to the ork remained silent.

“I knowz ya can hears me Space Marine.”

Again Cearul made no response so MeganFang spat a grotesque ball of mucus at Cearul causing the Hound to flinch as the repulsive glob ran along his head and down his face.

The Mek laughed “Ha I zoggin knew ye wuz fakin it, Space Marine, I want you to do me a favor.”

Cearul looked up again and saw that he was even closer to the entrenched imperials.

MegaFang continued “I want you to watch as I stomp all deez pathetic humiez and all yer mate beakies into da durt, I want you to be witness to da dey dat Big Mek MegaFang began hiz eternal WAAAGH! And stomped out da sun itself, you watch now Space Marine, you watch good.”

Captain Xerthes looked down the scope of his astartes sniper rifle steadied it waiting for the first of the Greenskins to enter his cross hairs. For a moment all went silent around the warden of stone save for the slow beats of his twin hearts,

Two beats.

Four beats.

Six beats.

Eight Beats.

The first of the orks came into Xerthes line of sight, a green skin mounted atop a red war bike. The Captain adjusted his aim ever so slightly and breathlessly pulled the trigger. The ork fell and with that the first shots of the battle had been fired. They were soon followed by more sniper fire and as the enemy closed the distance more weapons added to the thunderous choir of led and death.

The orks were no strangers to the art of rapid fire warfare and began pelting the imperials with their own armaments. Guardsmen died in swaths as the Gargant would unload its kustom Supa-Gatler onto the entrenched guardsmen and then unloading its Rokkit pay load. Beneath the metal monument to Mork, ork boys unleashed their full auto rampage from their small arm shootas to the kannons mounted on Trucks and Battle-Wagons.

Captain Dallaire gave the order to the PDF Leman Russes to begin their firing mission into the center of the ork horde, once the battle tanks began to fire the Knights of House Valorn joined in with Avenging roar of their Gatling canons and the molten rage of their thermal canons.

The green tide began to part at its center as orks fled the center of the horde and consolidated in its corners leaving a clear path to the Gargant.

Queen Moira spoke into her vox “Spearhead you are clear to begin your assault.”

Riley sealed the roof hatch of his Taurox and shouted at his driver. “You heard the lady its now or never.”

Tank treads of the spear head began advancing. At full speed they cleared the trench leaping over the heads of ducking guardsmen. The three land raiders were met metal storm of bullets, thousands of bullets beat against the face of Land Raiders like winter’s harshest rain. But the spear pressed on plowing through wrecked vehicle and ork alike to reach their target. When the Imperial barrage stopped orks began returning to the center of the mob each wanting a piece of the boldest of Imperials.

The Imperials had made good progress until they came across every imperial tank crew’s worst nightmare the dreaded ork Tank Bustas.

Several Ork vehicles rode out to meet the imperials and orks armed with missile tipped hammers leapt from their trucks and buggies onto the roof of one of the PDF Chimeras. With two hammer swings the Chimera was busted open and the orks attacking the guardsmen occupants. Another of the PDF’s tanks fell victim to the same tactic though. The Scions were however more prepared for the orks attack as Tempestors emerged from the roof hatches to defend against the orks.

Just as Riley killed one of the ork tank hunters threatening Captain Dallaire’s chimera a single squig came charging for Riley Taurox. Riley had seen these before and immediately began firing at the charging creature. But the beast was a wily creature and evaded Riley’s shot. Before Riley could squeeze his trigger a second time the red creature was already upon Riley’s Chimera. Riley heard three quick tics and swore “Oh Feth.” As the bomb squig detonated sending Riley’s Taurox spiraling out of control before ultimately rolling over ejecting the scion from his transport.

Leftenut RatSkull’s Battle Wagon pulled up alongside the Space Wolves land raider, RatSkull leapt from onto the land raider’s roof. The ork hoisted his Rokkit Stick over his head but before he could bring his hammer down Wolf Lord Ulfric Stormclaw emerged from the roof hatch shouting a challenge at the ork.

“Get off of my tank you filthy xeno scum.”

RatSkull growled as he shifted his stance “Come and get some Beakie!”

The two charged for each other as the tank sped on toward the Gargant. The beast swung its explosive hammer at Ulfric’s head but the wolf ducked the swipe grabbed the hammer by the back of its neck. RatSkull kicked Ulfric in his chest forcing the Wolf Lord to release the hammer as he stumbled to his back. Ulfric rolled off of the side of the tank as RatSkull brought his hammer down with an explosive thud. Ulfric gripped the side of the Land Raider with his life as RatSkull discarded his used Rokkit Stick, the ork began stomping on Ulfric’s hands in an effort to make him let go of the tank. Suddenly the Land Raide made a hard left stumbling RatSkull back allowing Ulfric the opportunity to get back on his feet. Ulfric recovered his axe as Rat skull unsheathed a crude pair of ork choppas. Rat skull growled and charged at Ulfric but the wolf lord parried the wild attack and then struck RatSkull in one clean motion separating his head from his shoulders.

Riley slowly arose to his feet, he was surrounded by flame and metal. Riley winced in pain nothing broken but he was definitely going to be sore for the next few mornings. The Scion checked his heads up display but found it had been damaged in the crash. Out of the corner of Riley’s eye an ork began charging for him, riley quickly drew his hot shot las pistol and put three cracks of red energy into the orks torso toppling it over. An error message flashed infront of Riley’s field of view advising him his rebreather was compromised. Another axe wielding ork came charging for the Scion and that ork to was met with a laser death. Riley began removing his carapace helmet as a massive armored nob began began a mad sprint for the tempestor Riley squeezed the trigger of his pistol, but no fire spat forth its energy cell had been damaged in the crash. Riley cursed and threw his helmet at the oncoming green skin, the nob was stunned by the hit allowing Riley time to reach for his knife. Riley roared and began charging at the ork knife in hand when suddenly a blast of blue plasma disintegrated the oncoming ork.

Riley turned to see the entirty of his squad emerging from the burning Taurox. Riley smiled and looked over to the Garagant they were now but a few feet away. Riley shouted at his men, “Mission isn’t done yet, move, move.”

The ten scions sprinted at near super human speed towards the oncoming Gargant, orks would try to stand in their paths but they were dispatched by the molten rage of plasma, melta, and hell gun.

The surviving vehicles of the spear reached their destination, in ten gargantuan steps from the hulking behemoth that was the gargant. Space marines, scions, and the few surviving PDF exited their transports. From one of the Tautox’s came the Scion’s heavy melta bomb, three scions were required to lift massive payload out of their Taurox, they set it down and Jamison’s the 85th’s explosive expert began priming the massive charge.

Riley and his squad arrived just as Jamison finished priming the device. The scion sapper began speaking beneath his helmet. “Now we just need to deploy the charge so that the Gargant steps on it.”

Captain Taranis stepped forward “There is no time for that.”

The Carachadon grabbed the massive explosive and hoisted above his head. Taranis cursed under its weight has he took a step toward the gargant. The marine growled as he began sprinting.

“I am the the emperor’s breacher, his holy ram of vengeance, I am Taranis the Destroyer!”

With a hearty throw Taranis launched the melta charge at the Gargant’s rusted chassis and the bomb collided with the steel plate sending staggering the Gargants next step. When the debris dust cleared a smoldering hole was left in the Gargant, rings of still meting metal framed the gaping steel wound in glowing red.

Ulfric Stormclaw laughed “A fine throw brother, now advance for the All Father!”

Riley shouted to all of his gathered men “Scions lead the way.”

The imperials fired all they had into the breach and the orks. Soon enough the imperials reached the gaping hole in the Gargant.

As the imperials began boarding the lumbering giant something caught Ardan’s eye. Upon further inspection Ardan realized that something was actually a someone. Ardan’s eyes widend in shock as he recognized the badly beaten face of Commander Cearul and swinging next to him Alpha Faolan.

Ardan looked to his left and saw Brother Rhodri had also noticed Faolan and Cearul.

Ardan shouted to Rhodri over the battle cries of Space Wolves and Scions.

“We have to get them down from there.”

Rhordi shook his head “I’m with you brother.”

Ardan quickly leapt onto the steel plates of the gargant and began climbing up the exterior of the titan gripping onto peeling metal plates, exposed wiring, and whatever other jagged piece of metal he could find Rhordi followed his lead.

The Gargant interior was some of the most ferocious close quarters fighting Ulfric Storm Claw had ever been part of. Ork meks hastly grabbed whatever weapons they could get their hands, slugas, choppas, shootas, some orks were forced to improvise and pulled random pieces of still active pipe from the wall. Ulfric found himself lost in a Blood haze he watched as several PDF and several of his fellow wolves were brought down by the ferocity of the ork tinkerers. The sight of seeing his brothers fall unlocked something feral inside of Ulfric, there were rumors among some of his that he suffered from the curse of the wulfen and the way he fought the orks would lend credibility to such claims.

Cearul watched as Ardan and Rhordi climbed up to him. Cearul had just assumbed that he was losing his mind and that they were but mirages, reminders of his failures but soon enough Ardan began cutting away at his restraints with a plasma cutter. Cearul croaked weakly.

“Ardan.”

Ardan spoke “Easy brother, we are going to get you out of here.”

A single ork rose above the others the cyber-organic weird boy Zog Dog laughed as he he landed a deadly blow against one of the Emperor’s Hounds who demanded revenge for his Alpha. Taranis had sensed his heretical presence before he saw the vile creature. Taranis would no longer tolerate such a creature to continue to draw breath.

Zog Dog grinned as he looked over to Taranis with his cybernetic eyes.

“You want some to den space marine.”

The weirdboy launched a bolt of green WAAAGH energy at the captain but Taranis weathered the blow against his force sword. Taranis in turned unleashed a flah of lightening agains the ork but Zog Dog erected a psychic shield. Taranis charged the ork and swung with his force sword, Zog Dog caught the blade with his staff and with the butt of his pole jabbed Tarans’s face cracking one of the lenses in his helmet. Taranis snarled as the ork took a second swing at him. Taranis caught the orks staff in his hand broke it with his sword. Zog Dog now enraged by the lost of his staff swung wildly at Taranis. The destroyer head-butted the ork sending several of his mangled fangs flying. With a downward swing Taranis split the orks skull down the center.

In the midst of all this chaos Riley kept his mind focus on the mission bring the Gargant down as soon as possible several of Riley’s men slipped passed the bloody melee in search of the Gargants critical systems. A group of Scions found what they guessed to be the main engine room and began setting melta bombs. Riley climbed the Gargant’s stairwell killing every ork and Gretchen that crossed his path until finally he reached the control room at the top.

Riley reached the door at the top of the Gargant’s head. Riley kicked the door in and was imidatly greeted by a barrage of bullets from MegaFang’s Kustom Snazz Gun. Riley rolled in to cover as the the big mek sprayed a hose of lead at him.

MegaFang roared ‘You fink dat you diry zoggin humie scum slurps can stop da might Big Mek MegaFang.” The ork laughed as he unloaded more rounds at Riley forcing him to find new cover.

The ork roared as he loaded another belt of bullets into his weapon. “I am da one who stomps da sun, I am dat great green destroyer, I am da one dat….”

Riley shouted “The only thing you are is an ork that talks to much”

Riley emerged from cover and fired rapid blast from his hell gun. MegaFang roared and dropped his massive firearm. The enraged warboss charged at the scion, riley landed several more shots with his hell gun but the mek’s rage ensured he felt no pain and his bionic limbs ensured he kept on fighting. Riley found himself now cornered in the tiny control room anything that might have been used as cover was now destroyed. MegaFang seized Riley by his throat and pinned him against the wall.

“Look at me humie, I am all dat iz ork, I am da killer of worlds stompa of Stars. I will sweep all across yer pathetic humie empire like a great green wind.”

Riley laughed and MegaFang snarled. “What is so zoggin funny.”

Riley spoke “You really need to learn how to stop talking.”

MegaFang growled as he wound up his punch but was stung in his back the crack las gun. As MegaFang turned his head at the new threat Riley seized the opportunity to draw his combat knife and plunge it into MegaFang’s face. MegaFang roared in painand stumbled backwards, Riley reclaimed his Hell Gun and kept firing at the ork until he was absolutely sure it was dead.. Riley looked up from his fresh kill to see Captain Dallaire and Specialist Jamison standing in the doorway.

Riley laughed “Thank the Emperor you guys showed up, that ork was trying to talk me to death.”

Dallaire spoke seriously “Our job is not yet done; we still need to bring this thing down.”

Riley nodded “Right, Jamison set the charges for three minutes.”

The crusaders quickly ran out of the gargant leaping out of its gaping belly wound. Cearul, Ardan, Rhordi, and the unconscious Faolan were the last to clear the blast zone. They each made a mad dash to their transports as the melta charges began detonating inside the Gargant. The great metal beast took its final step as its face blew off of its torso and it stumbled forward into the dirt and onto a massive mob of ork boyz.

The green skins watched in utter horror as their god of war crumbled before their vary eyes. Whatever order the orks had was long gone. There was an immediate power struggle among the nobz who was the new warboss. Without any proper leadership most of the orks began to flee back into the desert, while some of the stubborn orks wanted to press on with the assault. Those that stayed were gunned down by the Imperials virtually none of the greenskins made it to the trench and the few that did arrived full of bullets and las wounds.

Riley watched as the last orks fled out of sight. He looked at the mess around him what was once a barren desert was now a junkyard. Riley took a seat on top a large pile of scrap as Captain Dallaire approached him. The PDF commander took a seat beside him and spoke.

“We did the impossible here today.”

Riley shrugged and rubbed his bruised shoulder.

“Its not my first suicide mission.”


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2017/03/20 05:04:07


Post by: chazz huggins


40 years ago

In one of the long corridors of the great Payne manor sat a small child. The boy no older than six sat with his legs crossed and gripped two plastic figures in his hand. The boy emulated the battle between the Astarte and beast alone in this long corridor accompanied only by his nanny servitor standing in the corner barely aware of the child. In the left hand he gripped a brutish ork its horrid features made to look even more detestable and pathetic than the green skinned beasts that prowled the far eastern jungles of Cambria. In the boy’s right hand was a red armored warrior of the legendary blood angels, this particular toy was molded in the likeness of Captain Castagon of the fourth company.

At the door way at the opposite end of the hall behind the boy’s back entered a man, though he was in his forties he was indistinguishable from a twenty-year-old in all manners. The man was dressed in fine cloths and had an undeniable roguish look about him. His right arm was bound to a sling and covered in a hard cast. In the man’s still working hand was a colorful box. The man laughed.

“Smiting some foul xenos are we.”

The child was now aware of the man in the room and jumped up running towards him.

“Uncle Tobias!”

The boy ran towards Tobias an wraped his arms around the now crouching man’s neck. The boy soon noticed the sling and with a mixture of genuine concern and curiosity asked

“What happened to your arm uncle.”

Tobias laughed.

“Oh nothing your uncle was being dumb and got himself hurt.”

The boy giggled

“Did you fall in the tub uncle.”

Tobias grinned

“Something like that. But enough about me I got you something while I was in the capital.”

The boy’s eyes lit up as Tobias presented him the bright box.

“For me?”

Tobias laughed

“Unless you know of another Rodrick Payne.”

The boy gleefully took the gift and began tearing at the paper. Payne spoke as the the boy began to unveil his gift.

“I had the finest toy maker in the capital build this one special for you.”

The boy gasped in amazement as he unveiled, the new space marine action figure. The Astarte was clad in deep grey power armor, its right shoulder pad red and the bleeding dragon insignia clawing its way to the chest of the marine. Rodrick could not contain his excitement as he spoke.

“This is Captain Ortan of the third company Blood Dragon’s company. The slayer the Eldar witch king Valundar. “

Tobias had planned to explain all that to his nephew, he was astounded he could recognize the marine by his iconography alone. Tobias looked over to the servitor in the corner in the room.

“It seems Nan has been doing a good job at teaching you all about the fabled blood dragons.”

The boy studied the figure and his face contorted into a frown.

“Uncle, whatever happened to the Blood Dragons? I keep asking Nan and I never get a response out of her.”

Tobias shrugged

“Nobody knows exactly what happened. They were just gone one day, they only left the ruins. But even from those we can tell they were truly great.”

Tobias’s nephew looked up at him and spoke with youthful curiosity
.
“Do you think they’ll ever be back?”

Tobias smiled “Perhaps one day, they’ll return and recount to us all the adventures they’ve had over the last seven thousand years.”

Rodrick smiled “If they did come back do you think they’d let me become a space marine?”

Tobias tussled the child’s hair “Of course they would.”

It was at this time another man entered the room, older than Payne by almost three decades though his hair had only silvered in the slightest. The man was large, his size made even more dramatic by a crimson cloak. He was Tobias’s brother Fredrick Payne. Fredrick was the first born son of the Lord Governor Anton Payne. The second born was Theodore Payne, and Rodrick was the third born. Fredrick being the primogeniture was the heir to the governorship of Crion.

“Tobias.”

Tobias looked up from Rodrick and Rodrick turned to face the new man. Rodrick spoke with the same enthusiasm.

“Father! Look at what uncle Tobias brought me.”

The boy rushed to show his father his new toy. The man smiled.

“Did you thank your uncle for such a nice gift.”

Rodrick immediately turned back to Tobias and embraced him in a hug

“Thank you uncle.”

“Your most welcome.”

Fredrick spoke

“Good boy, now run along your uncle and I need to speak.”

The boy quickly collected the two space marines and began running out of the hall. The servitor care taker grabbed the discarded ork with its servo claw and began after Rodrick with a mechanical hobble.

As the servitor exited the room Fredrick began speaking.

“What would father say if he heard you telling his grandson fairy tales.”

Tobias laughed

“He’d smack me upside my head and remind me the Dragons are dead.”

Fredrick was unamused as he looked at his brother’s broken arm and began.

“Keep up with your antics and you’ll be joining them. I mean really Tobias getting in a brawl inside of a brothel.”

Tobias raised his hands defensively.

“The Gilded Lion is not a brothel, it’s a gentleman’s club and I was forced to remind those ruffians what it means to be a gentleman.”

Fredrick was again not amused.

“You are of house Payne, that may not mean anything to you but it means everything to the rest of us. What you do reflects on us all.”

Tobias remained silent.

Fredrick sighed

“We can not change what’s in the past, come see Theodore, Father and I off.”

Tobias frowned

“Picked a bad time to break my arm haven’t missed an ork hunt since I was sixteen.”

Fredrick laughed and began heading for the landing pad

“Brother are you suggesting you’d rather spend the next week sleeping in the dirt covered in the stink of green skins than lounging about the palace.”

Tobias smiled

“I’d hardly call father’s tent sleeping in the dirt.”

Three royal blue Valkyries each marked with the golden sigil of House Payne and their words high gothic “Nemo me Impune lacessit.” Dozens of servitors mechanically scurried about loading baggage into the Valkyries, while nearly two dozen palace guards began boarding the vessels, their carapace armor matching the blue hull of their transports. It was not long before Tobias spotted his father and brother Theodore. Tobias’s father was already well in to his second century the obvious signs of age unmistakable even the best rejuvenate treatments could not mask that. Theodore however looked nothing like his father, his hair was still blonde and eyes still emerald green. Tobias had a great respect for his brother Theodore, he had been taken captaincy of the Palace Guard an honor Theodore did great justice.

Tobias’s father sneered as Tobias and Fredrick approached, he spoke making little effort to disguise the anger in his voice.

“Tobias.”

Tobias spoke

“Father… it is good to see you.”

The old man nearly growled.

“I suspect any face that isn’t of an Arbities is good for you to see.”

Theodore spoke hoping to alleviate the tension.

“It is a shame you will not be joining us this year brother, I hear there are green skins as tall as iron oaks.”

Tobias smiled.

“I figured I’d let you have some glory this year.”

One of the palace guards approached.

“My lords, we are ready to depart at your leisure.”

The old man hoisted his laslock and spat.

“We are not done speaking of this Tobias.”

Tobias shook his head.

“I doubt we ever will be.”

The old man huffed and turned his back on his son and began heading for the Valkyrie. Theodore gave a final smile to his brother before hoisting his rifle over his shoulder and turning away. Fredrick frowned and spoke.

“Just promise me you’ll behave while we’re gone.”

Tobias smiled.

“You have my word brother.”

Fredrick seemed relieved by his brother’s words, and he placed his hand on Tobias’s shoulder, before turning to catch up with his father. A minute later the engines of the Valkyries roared to life and began to take off.

That was the last time Tobias Payne saw his father and brothers.

Today

The chapel was a dreary sight, the ork raid that ravaged the palace leaving the old stone church scarred. The sky was stone grey and the sea fog rolled all about Payne island. Those sitting in the chapel pews could hear the unrelenting patter of rain atop the chapel’s roof punctuated by the occasional crack of thunder. At the head of the chapel beneath the stained glass rested a sealed black casket. The only sight more wretched than that of the chapel was the visage of Governor Payne his face deathly pale and his sleepless eyes darkened. There were fifty people seated in the chapel pews the majority of which were Crionian nobles who have come to pay their final respects to the governor’s nephew. Among the nobles several outsiders had gathered,

In the front aisle sat a trio of scions Tempestor Castilla, Tempestor Riley, and Tempestor Prime Gallus. They wore their standard combat plate and openly carried their weapons, clearly their last visit to Payne island had destroyed what faith they had in the governor’s personal security. Tobias could hardly blame them, after the last parlay trust was not an affordable luxury. The armor they wore was battered and revealed fresh scars souvenirs from the City of New Pavus.

In one of the aisles to the right sat Lord Commissar Hattori for the Calian Dragoons. The Commissar sat in an attentive matter but there was a look on his face as though his focus was elsewhere, occasionally he looked into the palm of his hand which concealed a small communicator, he frowned when it revealed no news.

Lord General McFallus sat in the far right corner. Judging by the look on the man’s face he seemed not to be in the mood for talking.

Sharing a pew in the center aisle was Inquisitor Randall and Colonel Raven. The two men had only recently arrived on the main world, now fully recovered from the horrors of Cogger Hive. The Colonel had left his signature hat at the door as a token of respect. Randall wore a traditional black suit, as was Terran funeral custom. Accompanying the Inquisitor, the Colonel was the Commissar Alenko and the Colonel’s Sargent Holiday.

Behind the Inquisitor and the Colonel were the four knights of house Valorn. Amanda, Sera, Cassius, and Moira. They wore their house colors of crimson and each dawned a black velvet band around their arms to show mourning.

On the extreme left sat the Chem Dogs Colonel Vannon and Sargent Kyla. Like the scions they were still reeling from the loss of New Pavus. They were their standard flack armor and rebreatheres though they pulled them to the side so they might speak more easily.

Since the pews were not able to support the weight of the massive astartes they were forced to stand in the rear of the church.

Ardan of the Emperor’s hounds had clearly seen better days. The marine’s face was bruised and freshly stitched, he wore a bandage around his left eye, the apothecaries were still unsure if it would heal or need replaced with bionincs. The marine’s purple armor was coated in the char of promethium ork burnas.

To Ardan’s right was the Wolf Lord Ulfric Stormclaw. While Ulfric and Ardan had fought in the same battle against the same Gartgant they had near polar opposite experiences. Ulfric’s Great Company had found a great degree of glory in the war against the dread mob, they had emerged near unscathed and with fresh chapters for their sagas. Ardan was a fair representation of how his chapter faired, bruised and tired. It had been three weeks since the Gargant and Alpha Faolan had still yet to awaken leaving Ardan to govern over his brothers.

Chaplain Exitar of the Carcharodons space marines chapter wore a suit of behemoth terminator plate and the accompanying skeletal helm, his Crozius Arcanum resting in his palm. The marine had conducted well over a hundred funerals, but all of those were for his fellow battle brothers. The Carcharodons being a void bound would jettison their dead into the void, burying the dead in the ground seemed almost vulgar to the chaplain. He would hope that should he fall and none of his brothers be there to reclaim him they would at least have the curtsy of to return him to the void.

Standing apart from the rest of the Astartes was Brother Captain Athenar of the Emperor’s Grey Knights. Athenar disliked speaking with the other Astartes, in his mind he had almost nothing in common with any of them, especially that Ulfric Stormclaw.

Lurking in the flickering shadows of the far left corner was a single space marine clad in a green scout’s carapace The armor marked him as being of the Stone Wardens chapter and judging by the age of the scout it would be safe to assume that he was sergeant. The marine had not bothered to introduce himself and simply yet his chapter’s insignia do the talking for him.

Seeing that everyone was gathered Tobias Payne took the podium.

“Friends, family, we are gathered here today to mourn the loss of the of my nephew Rodrick Cornell Payne.”

“I remember the day Rodrick was born, my brother Fredrick said he has the aura of a true man of house Payne. At the time I thought my brother was speaking lunacy but he was right. Rodrick did the name Payne proud. He was both scholar and soldier, statesmen and devout servant of the emperor.”

It took the governor a moment to resume speaking.

“He died fighting those who would see us fall to disorder, those who would turn their backs on the rest of the Imperium. He died in service to our blessed imperium, may he find his place at the Emperor’s side”

Those gathered made the sign of the Aquilla at the words.

The governor’s face seemed embittered by the very thought of the Tillers. The governor shortly regained his composure and continued speaking.

“I loved Rodrick, he was to me the son I never had. All of Crion is lesser for his loss”

The governor seemed at a loss for words. He turned to the coffin and placed his hand on the smooth black oak. He lingered there for nearly a minute and turned back to the gathering. The governor cleared his throat and spoke.

“I believe Rodrick’s brother Percival had some words.”

Without another word Tobias headed for seat in the front pew as a man clad in the ornate blue armor of the palatial guard swaggered to the podium.

Percival seemed in fine health were it not for the black band around the man’s arm it would be impossible to tell he was in mourning. With a hand resting on the pommel of a hip sheathed sword Percival began to speak.

“What is there to say about my brother Rodrick. He held the prestigious command of Kamrian Keep and it is unlikely they will find another commander as qualified.”

And with that Percival returned to his seat, feeling he had sufficiently paid his respects to his late brother.

Nearly a dozen more speakers approached the podium for the span of nearly an hour and a half. Among the more notable were Rodrick’s two twin cousins Tybalt and Grace, they both recalled fondly the childhood they shared with Rodrick. Lieutenant Antonious Cal had also spoke. Cal was once Rodrick’s second in command, he had since Rodrick’s passing become Kamrian’s new Lord Commander.

As the last speaker finished Tobias retook the podium and began.

“I thank you all for coming, if you would all please make your way back to the ball room of the manor, refreshments will be served.”

Quietly the chapel emptied leaving only the governor and the casket enclosed Rodrick. As the chapel door shut Tobias lifted the coffin door. The morticians had done a fairly good job, still it pained tobias to think he died so violently. From his coat Tobias produced small grey armored space marine and placed it in the crook of the corpse Rodrick’s arm. Tobias heard a noise from behind him he did not need to turn his head to know that it was Tal’ok. Tobias began speaking.

“Tell me Tal’ok do the Kroot have families.”

Tal’ok crossed his arms and spoke.

“Not like you humans do, we have our packs. Those fellow hunters who we live and die for.”

The governor sealed the coffin and spoke

“What do you do when someone hurts one of your pack.”

“We find the person that hurt us and we make them hurt greater.”

Tobias spoke satisfied with the response.

“I have a job for you.”

Tobias turned to face the mercenary. From his coat he removed a folded piece of paper and handed it to Tal’ok. The kroot unfolded the paper and observed the human.

Payne spoke

“This image was taken from the vid recorder inside one of the scion’s helmet. This man was the one who killed my nephew.”

Tal’ok looked closely at the picture of the man spoke.

“Finding a single man on a planet with only a picture to go on is not an easy feat.”

The governor spoke

“I don’t care what it takes, you do this for me I will make you and your kin rich beyond your wildest dreams.”

Tal’ok smiled finding a single assassin somewhere on this big planet was sure to be a challenge, a challenge that enticed Tal’ok to no end. The kroot spoke with a roguishness.

“Consider him dead.”

The governor spoke.

“I don’t want this man dead I want his to suffer. I want you to find those who he would call his family or his comrades and I want him to watch as they die. I want everything he loves to crumble. I want him to lose whatever faith he may have. Then once he has nothing left to live for bring him to me, alive.”

Tal’ok stored picture in wedge in his armor. The Kroot smiled.

“Your will be done Governor.”

Payne spoke as he turned back towards the coffin

“Should you need anything to aid you on your hunt do not hesitate to ask.”

The Kroot turned with a grin and began making his way out.

The black precession began towards the Payne family graveyard began. Here there were hundreds of tombstones each belonging to a dead Payne including the house founder Sebastian Payne. The pall bearers which consisted of the governor and his surviving nephews approached the hole and began the process of lowering the casket with a silver chain in to the awaiting earth. Rain pelted off the lid of the earth sunk casket before servitor attendants with steam shovel arms began raining dirt over the coffin.

Meanwhile in the Ballroom the atmosphere was by far less grim than the bleak mood that had dominated that dreary chapel. The majority of the regular palace guest had already departed leaving only the crusaders. They were waiting on Governor Payne to return from the private burial of his nephew so that they could hold the war council.

Chaplain Exitar had found himself speaking with Ardan of the Emperor’s Hounds. The Chaplain spoke.

“I know you are grieving brother, the loss of so many of your brothers must be strenuous, and the loss of your Captain Faolan must hurt you.”

Ardan seemed angered by the Chaplain’s remarks.

“The Hounds will recover, as will Alpha Faolan”

Exitar spoke through his skeletal helmet.

“You must be practical; it is unlikely that he will ever awaken. You must act in the best interest of your chapter now, guide your brothers in these dark times. If you require a chaplain’s counsel, I am here.”

Ardan realized the chaplain meant well but he did not like to consider the possibility of Faolan not waking up.

“Thank you for your concern chaplain, but I will manage.”

Across the ball room Inquisitor Garrett Randall approached Commissar Hattori who had staked his claim upon a corner some ways away from the rest of the guests. Randall spoke lowly looking for any prying eyes or ears. Randall spoke.

“Any word yet.”

The commissar shook his head

“Still none, I was hoping my man Goya would have reported in by now.”

“Keep me updated.”

Said Randall.

Tempestor Castilla eaves dropped on the inquisitor and the Commissar, while they were carful not to reveal anything it was clear to Castilla that they were hiding something. Castilla then looked at the grand windowpane as the rain bombarded the glass with tiny droplets, it was at this time Queen Moira Valorn approached her.

Moira bowed and spoke.

“Tempestor Castilla, it is good to see you again, though I wish we could meet on a more joyous occasion.”

Castilla grinned and returned Moira’s bow.

“It is good to see you as well my lady. Tell me is it true what they say about you slaying a squigoth.”

Moira swelled with pride at the mention of the gargantuan orkoid but remained modest.

“It is true, you must come to visit us at Grimjoy Hive, so that I might show you the beast’s skull.”

Castilla thought to herself that she would in fact like to see the remains of such a large creature though unfortunately her duties left her with no time for such recreation. Before Castilla could politely decline one of the Governor’s stuffy stewards made an announcement.

“My lords and Ladies Governor Payne is ready to see you. If those of you attending would kindly follow me.”

The crusaders had gathered in the same room they had gathered for the governor’s last war council and they had seated themselves much in the same way. They had repaired what damage the ork commandos had done, new windows, tapestry and furniture. Though Ulfric noticed a scuff on the floor where he had brought down an ork, he chuckled at the memory. Payne began speaking.

“I thank you all for paying your respects to my nephew, I am truly humbled. However, we have some important business to discuss.”

Tempestor Prime Gallus spoke

“Indeed we do governor, if the rest of you have no objections I will speak first.”

Payne bowed his head and spoke.

“The floor is yours Tempestor.”
Gallus spoke his face betraying some irritation though he gave no names.

“Until recently my scions had the City of New Pavus on lock down, that all changed two weeks ago. When we first arrived in New Pavus the Tillers were only a minor nuisance unequipped ruffians drunk on cheap booze. After delivering the Tillers some rough beatings something changed. I wasn’t sure what caused that change was until now.”

Gallus nodded at Tempestor Riley and the scion produced a piece of metal wrapped in a blue cloth. The scion unveiled it to reveal the remains of a heavily modified las gun.

Colonel raven whistled and spoke.

“That ain’t standard issue.”

Gallus spoke.

“I had a suspicion where this modified technology had originated but I could not prove it until now.”

Gallus tapped some buttons on his wrist mounted computer and on the far wall a white screen lowered into place and a vid projector whined to life.

The video that was captured from the cockpit of the Valkyrie. The dark night was illuminated by the fires that were consuming the city of New Pavus. Rising above the tall buildings of the city was the xeno craft a Tau manta. The sleek armor of the hull vessel ruptured as Valkyrie fired a rocket at the Tau craft and the vid feet cut.

Chaplain Exitar spoke.

“Tau? What are they doing so far from the rest of their pathetic empire.”

Riley interjected.

“We didn’t bother to ask we were too busy shooting them.”

Gallus spoke once more.

“It matters little, the point is they are here and they have aligned themselves with the Tillers.”

Ulfric Stormclaw spoke in a near snarl.

“We must find where these creatures make their lair and flush them out.”

Gallus spoke nodding his head at the wolf lord.

“Agreed but the Tau are not the only allies the Tillers have, Colonel Vannon if you will.”
The leader of the chem dogs arose. He looked about the room and spoke slowly at first.

“Approximately three hours and thirty minutes after the assault on New Pavus began my men came into contact with something… grotesque. The video you are about to see is disturbing.”

Another cockpit of another Valkyrie flew above the firry night of New Pavus. The Valkyrie unleashed its incendiary payload on a group of advancing Tiller soldiers, when suddenly the flyer shook viciously and veered downward, the pilot struggled to minimize the damage of the crash landing. The Valkyrie made its forced landing the pilot and co pilot died on impact. Then the six surviving chem dogs exited the Valkyrie and entered the frame of the front facing camera, one of them went to check on the dead pilots’ status. As the soldier found the pilots dead another of the surviving crew pointed somewhere off screen and then the chem dogs began firing. Their las guns did little good to halt the swarm of flesh eating flies that fell upon them. As the flies bit and pestered the squirming troopers a squad of humanoid creatures stampeded across their ranks, beating the guardsmen with horn, hoof and rifle butt. The video ended.

Brother Captain Athenar spoke his voice riddled with rage.

“There is no question that is the filth of chaos.”

Commissar Hattori spoke.

“So the Tillers have allied themselves with these heretics.”

Colonel Vannon spoke.

“I’m not sure about that. You see we engaged the heretics on the the northern side of the wall they were totally isolated from the Tillers and Tau forces. They would have been more effective if they had coordinated their assault together. Their strategy seemed to rely heavily on them not being near the Tillers. Perhaps the Tillers were completely unaware of their involvement.”

Gallus spoke sounding displeased with the colonel’s analysis.

“Regardless if the Tillers are chaos worshipers, they are still traitors and need to be eliminated.”

Randall added.

“Gallus is right; we do not have reason to give these men the benefit of the doubt.”

Commissar Hattori cleared his throat.

“Regarding these chaos worshipers I have some news.”

The Commissar looked around the table seeing that all eyes were upon him.

“Approximately four hours prior to my arrival on Payne island, my scouts located an abandoned fortress deep in the swamplands of Spiri. As we speak a task force made up of my Dragoons and a squad of Inquisitor Randall’s and Captain Athenar’s Grey Knights are launching their assault on the fortress. “

Murmurs went about the table, Ulfric voiced his opinion.

“I praise your initiative Commissar. While we were here discussing how to best uproot these traitors you had taken action.”

Gallus was not as amused.

“Why would you wait till now to inform us of this?”

Randall answered on the Commissars behalf

“It was on my order, the Dragoons had an opportunity to strike at the heretics and I didn’t want to risk allowing them the chance to flee.”

Extar spoke. “You act boldly inquisitor; I pray that you are not acting rashly.”

Governor Payne soon changed the topic.

“Baring all this talk of heretical uprising there is some good news. The horrid Dread mob has finally been destroyed.”

Ulfric laughed hardily as he slapped his adamantium plated knee and gestured over to Riley.

“Thanks in large part to this man right here. Tempestor Riley slew the bastard ork in single combat.”

Riley was not used to being praised by a Space Marine he scanned the Wolf Lord’s voice for sarcasm but found none. Riley’s plan of not speaking quickly crumbled.

“Ugh, thanks… Captain Dallaire helped.”

Ardan spoke.

“Regarding the dread mob, my men are still reeling from the casualties we took, and Alpha Faolan has fallen into a deep coma. Any assistance any of you might offer would be much obliged.”

Ulfric spoke

“I have a wolf priest in my company, perhaps his knowledge of Fenrisian medicine might come in aid.”

Ardan bowed his head, he was not sure what good a superstitious Space Wolf would do but he was willing to try anything.

“You honor us lord Stormclaw.”

Governor Payne spoke.

“I think we all have a clearer understanding of what must be done. I thank you my lords and call this meeting to a close.”

Hands were shaken and bows were bowed and all exited the governor’s meeting hall except for one Tobias Payne. The governor produced a watch on a chain from his coat pocket. The governor opened the watch and stared deeply into a picture of a women for a few seconds before returning the relic to his coat. The governor stood and headed for the door so that he might wish the departing crusaders safe travels back to their camps.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2017/03/20 09:39:34


Post by: Ezra Tyrius


--Payne Manor--

Chef glanced carefully around the corner, making sure that no-one had followed him down this corridor. His current position left him with little freedom; the servants at Payne Manor led busy, if somewhat comfortable, lives, making it difficult to find time and opportunity to report to his… employers. He’d managed to slip away from his duties for a moment, but he knew that it wouldn’t be long before someone came looking for him.

He produced a small metallic box from one of his pouches, and pressed its two buttons in a sequence only his Operator and he himself knew. A single red light at the top of the device blinked softly in confirmation, before turning off again. Now he just had to wait. The signal would be virtually untraceable, but it took longer to establish the connection; a safety measure he’d not been entirely comfortable with from the start.

Chef peeked around the corner again. The past few weeks had been rather uneventful, and had seen him gain little new information. The death of Rodrick Cornell Payne had been a godsend, in that respect; the Imperial commanders had had little choice but to show up to the man’s funeral, lest they risk the ire of the Planetary Governor and their peers. And with them all being in the same place anyway, they’d seen fit to hold another war council, in the same place they’d held their last one, no less…

The light on his device turned green, and its vox unit crackled to life.

“Identification.”

The voice speaking was distorted and mechanical; he couldn’t tell whether the one on the other side of the line was male or female, or even human.

“Sigma. Four. Kilo. Twenty-Seven.”

Chef spoke the words hastily, trying to keep his voice down as much as he could. There was still no-one in the corridor, but he knew that could change soon.

“Confirmed. Report.”

He sighed in relief, and began his report.

“Anticitizens receiving help from Pulsar units, reason unknown; the source of the Plague has been found and is being contained; Clanker has been taken to the scrapyard; Hounds and Wolves are bleeding. No sign of hunters on the prowl.”

There was only static for a moment, before the voice spoke again.

“Confirmed. Return to your duties.”

The green light turned off, and the line went dead. Chef hastily put the device back in his pouch, before walking back down the corridor…


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2017/03/20 20:52:39


Post by: Bobthehero


---- Crion, Battalion HQ of the 85th ----

'' To say things went poorly is an understatement, and I take full blame for what happened '' opened up Gallus '' I misused our men and in the end, we've lost almost half the unit, I know commanders that were executed for less... Its a good thing there are no commissar around ''

Gallus took a small breath and continued on
'' As such, we will rethink our plans, using our men as line infantry was a clear mistake, one I should not have done, from now on, we're sticking strickly to recce and intelligence gathering ''

'' What about my unit, sir? '' interrupted Riley

'' You'll be kept in reserve and used to support friendlies, but not in a static role, I will decide who you'll help and where you will drop, you handle the business on the ground. Now, we have to take measures regarding the possible security leak that the slate monitrons represent, most of the enlisted slates don't have anything the enemy can use, but those from Tempestors are a risk, the rebels might be able to track the men who were under the command of the fallen Tempestors ''

'' I though our slates were protected agaisnt enemy tempering? '' asked a Tempestor

'' As we saw, the Tau are more than able to temper with our technology, bypassing whatever security the cogboys installed on the slates might be bypassed by the Tau, given enough time, of that I have no doubt ''

'' What measures are we taking then, sir? ''

'' We will reform the squads, platoons and companies, such that the intel in the slates is outdated, if we have to engage the Heretics, we will not use men from that were at New Pavus if possible, anyone caught wearing our gear is to be killed and the gear either destroyed or recovered. Make sure our security at the gates take their sweet time making sure the people entering the camp are actual Scions, they might try to use our uniform for infltration purposes. Make sure we use the Martyr's Kit grenades, I am sure there's a way so that they get triggered when the Slate detects no life functions ''

'' That'll take some tempering, but our adepts should be able to come up with something ''

'' Good, we'll spread our forces again, I want four teams keeping tabs on New Pavus, one for the Tau, one for the Nurglites, one for the Tillers and the last one reporting on general movement ''

'' Is the Payne traitor still somewhat a priority, sir? ''

'' We wont track him, but have a sniper handy in every team, might as well put a round though him if we can. We'll also send a team to keep tab on the Ork mob we recently dealt with, while Tempestor Secundus Enoch managed to kill the Warboss and what we assume are most of their commandoes, we can't dismiss the possibility that they'll reform a new mob. As for the rest of our forces, I am waiting for fellow Imperial factions to make a move, we'll provide accurate intelligence, I've already offered our support during the previous briefing ''




Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2017/03/29 00:52:41


Post by: Tactical_Spam


There were a few suppressed snickers from the back of his party as Zehk pulled himself out of another pool of muddy, algae-laden water. Why the Dark Lord sent him to this damned swamp escaped him. No directive, no insight, just a finger in the direction of a portal and the assurance that all was just as planned. Zehk hated that.

Zehk wiped the clinging algae from his helmet lenses. The dark form of Commissar Schäfer appeared beside him in the time it took to clean his lenses. She put a hand on his chest and pressed a finger against her mouth then point towards a clearing off in the distance. Dim flashes of light could be seen in the low lying fog.

"I saw it five minutes ago. We shouldn't come close to it on our current course," Zehk said irritably. He could already hear the pitiful complaints of the cultist rabble behind him. Schäfer pulled off the gas mask she had been wearing since they entered the swamp.

"But do you smell it, Twiceborn? The Rot Father's blessing is... abundant over there."

"The last thing I was to deal with is maggot-eating, corpse-walkers." Zehk pushed her aside and trudged forwards. He stopped after fifty paces when he didn't hear anyone following him, "Come on!"

"You've said it yourself," Schäfer said, heading in the direction of the shooting, "We don't have any mission so we might as well head for anything that looks interesting." Zehk grumbled to himself and followed behind the Commissar. Whatever Warp-tainted charisma Schäfer possessed was apparently stronger than the desire of not being riddled with bolter shells.

The cultists, now being lead by their fearless shepard, seemed eager to find whatever awaited them in the clearing beyond. Though as they came closer to their destination, the fanaticism began to fade. More than one cultist had keeled over and vomited into the grimy water, which now was infested with biting insects and swarms of bloated leeches. Greasy crows cawed and judged the cultists through their three eyes. Trees twisted and rotted where they stood. Frogs croaked phlegmily and laughed at the cultists. Yellow, seven-petal flowers smelling of corpses and bile grew from every available piece of ground. Everything was a testament to the Plague god's touch.

The clearing was just as hellish as the surrounding area. A wide arc of Scions, faithful lapdogs of the Corpse-Emperor, fired white hot lances through the broken form of a cathedral. Cultists devoted to Nurgle, Father of Decay, returned fire though most who did ended on the floor, cauterized holes the only true indication of death. There were few brave enough or simply too unintelligent to care that ran forward to meet the Scions in hand to hand. Nurgle's favor was great in these ones. A plague-ridden Spawn smashed aside half a dozen cultists before it was reduced to slag by several meltaguns. A fat cultist charged a Scion, rusty bayonet finding its mark under the Scion's armpit. The cultist drove it deep before his head was caved in by a lasrifle butt.

"Stoic as ever are the faithful to Nurgle," Zehk chuckled, slamming a fresh drum into his storm bolter. His cultists and beastmen took up positions behind rotting trees or in the high weeds. Zehk was the only one left in the open, not that he needed the cover. Cover was for the weak. "Cut them down"

Zehk waded towards the lines of Scions, storm bolter rattling off death to the first few unlucky Scions. Realizing they had been flanked, the rest of the Scions immediately took up defensive positions and fired back. The Nurgle cultists seized the opportunity and began their counteroffensive. A wave of them burst from their citadel and charged the Scions. The next wave that followed behind them was upon the Scions before the first cultist fell. It had worked except for one missed crucial detail.

"Traitor!" a silver Astartes called out to Zehk, sword leveled at his throat, "Face me!" Zehk laughed at him and drew his chainsword, revving it.

Release me, the snake beckoned, its presence forcing itself onto Zehk's conscience, You fight no mere Brother, but a Grey Knight! He will end us swiftly if I do not fight him.

"Us? There is no us. I will fight him!" Zehk roared and charged the Grey Knight, chainsword held high. He brought it down for a killing blow to the neck, but the Grey Knight deflected the blow with his pauldron, stepped to Zehk's left side and riposted, driving his force sword swiftly through Zehk's abdomen and removing it. There was a faint cough as Zehk fell to his knees.

"I am the bane of his foes and the woes of the treacherous..." the Grey Knight uttered, almost silently as he brought his sword high for like an executioner.

RELEASE ME, the snake rang in his ears till they bled. The Grey Knight would have seen Zehk's exertion had he not been wearing his helmet. I WILL KILL HIM!

I am not your slave, daemon, Zehk thought while grinding his teeth together. There was a battle being fought over his own mind and he was not going to surrender a second time. He forgot about the Grey Knight and focused on the snake.

His mind was his second home and subsequently resembled the deserts of Kattifrakk. Sand drifted around Zehk's bronze legs. He looked up and saw the snake, Suolyn'ne, sitting atop her throne and looking intently back at him. She slithered down and coiled herself around Zehk's unarmored body. He could not move to stop her. It was as if he was paralyzed. Paralyzed by the one thing he was indoctrinated to forget: fear.

"Let me fight him," Suolyn'ne cooed in his ear, "Let me add another skull to your rack." Her grip grew tighter. Zehk strained to breathe. His twin hearts drummed in his chest. "You have nothing to lose. Ryus listened to me and look where he is now. He wages wars on the dogs of the Corpse-Emperor with powers you could only dream of. He has a legion of men and daemons bending their knee to him and you could too... if you just let me take over."

"You get ahead of yourself," Zehk choked out, "You think I am Ryus." Suolyn'ne's grip did not feel so tight anymore. Zehk tore himself from the snake. Offended, she slithered back to her throne and hissed at him. Zehk laughed. He reached into the sand and retrieved a flail. Zehk was unsure as to why this was the weapon that he thought of first, but he figured it was some sort of analogy of his character. "I am not Ryus. I am Zehk the Twiceborn, the Kinslayer, the Crazed and the Champion of the New Order and I will not be made a slave to a false god again." Zehk swung his flail up around his head and brought it down on the snake's throne. Obsidian splinters flew into the air like ash. The snake leapt forward from her shattered resting place, chitinous claws extended. A bronze hand meet her perfectly androgynous face and rendered it imperfect. The snake fell to the sand and held one of her hands to her face. Black ichor dripped from her shattered nose and cheekbone. The head of the flail connected with the other side of her face as she looked up. The snake hit the sand at a remarkable speed.

"You son of a whore," the snake gasped, "I could have made you into a god."

"I am Astartes. I kill gods," Zehk said and brought the flail down on the snake's head.

* * *

"Last words, heretic?" the Grey Knight asked. Zehk snapped back to reality and sank his head down. He reached up and unfastened his helmet clamps for the first time in five years. His helmet was casually tossed into the swamp. The Grey Knight looked down on an unremarkable face.

"Where is your god now?"

A bolt shell slammed into the Grey Knight's shoulder and threw him off balance. Seeing that fate smiled upon Zehk for the first time in a long time, Zehk rose up and grabbed the Grey Knight's sword. He could feel the Grey Knight muster his psychic strength to aid him. A forceful headbutt reassured the Grey Knight to the fact that he wasn't getting his sword back. The Grey Knight stumbled back, Zehk now holding his sword. The Grey Knight raised his storm bolter.

"Justicar! Our position is lost!" a Scion yelled to the Grey Knight. He looked around and saw the Scions slowing being cut down, one by one. Las fire and stubber rounds were making their way towards the Grey Knight as there were no Scions left to fight. The Justicar cursed Zehk and retreated with the Scions, leaving his sword in the possession of Zehk. A guttural roar of victory came from the cathedral as the plagued cultists and Astartes made their way out. Zehk could feel Schäfer's gaze burn into the back of his head.

"Three men have died and two are wounded. Half our ammo is depleted," the Commissar informed her superior. Zehk could hear her carve 3 notched into her bolt pistol.

"Put the other two out of their misery. They won't last around this sort of company," Zehk said heading in the direction of the cathedral. He heard her notch her gun twice more before it barked twice and two final bodies fell into the swamp.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2017/03/31 07:20:55


Post by: chazz huggins


Inquisition Camp sixty miles outside Cogger Hive.

Randall and his inner retinue gathered around his war table. The table was a rich six century old mahogany, made using only the finest Cadian wood. While the table was an intricate piece of art lace work weaving its way across its sides and legs it was far more than ornate. A hologram projector rested in the center of the table. Now this projector emitted the form of Justicar Freeman, his silver armor rendered now in blue light.

The Grey Knight reported to the inquisitor, he spoke with bitterness in his voice.

“My Lord our attack failed. The Dragoons were forced to retreat; it seems a second heretical faction has come to aid this filth.”

Randall spoke to the Grey Knight, while his tone was resolute it betrayed the smallest hint of concern.

“Justicar, pull your men and the Dragoons back to safety but keep your eyes on these heretics, I do not want them escaping. We will be en route to reinforce you and take that damn fortress.”

The Grey Knight pounded his fist to his breast plate and spoke

“Your will be done.”

The Justicar then terminated the connection.

Randall looked over to his advisors and spoke.

“How long before we can move on Spiri.”

Commissar Alenko reported.

“I can have the men planet side in forty-eight hours.”

Randall shook his head.

“Not fast enough make it thirty.”

Alenko nodded.

“It will be difficult but it can be done.”

Captain Amanda Kid spoke.

“We won’t be able to field our Malcadors in that swamp, I suggest we send them to Drake’s Point for safe storage.”

Randall spoke.
“A good point, Warden Hoffman leave a small cohort of your Arbites and convicts to guard the Malcadors as they are transported.”

Hoffman replied
“Can do sir.”

Brother Athenar spoke
“Myself, Paladin Utilitarius and the rest my men will leave ahead of the main force.”

Randall nodded differing to the Astartes judgment.

Randall looked to his advisors and spoke

“We can not let this heretical weed to take root, we must purge it now while we still can, for the emperor. Inquisition dismissed”

Those gathered repeated “For the Emperor” and began their preparations for the war to come.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2017/04/01 13:32:28


Post by: Irishpeacockz


Unrelenting rain battered the robust hull of the thunderhawk as the hounds returned to their den with their tails in between their legs, shattered from their experience with the Gargant. Ardan watched on as Rhodri desperately tried to keep a crippled Cearul and an unresponsive Faolan alive.

“My Narthecium cannot do much more” disappointedly expressed Rhodri

“Except harvest their geneseed, … We need to get them to Brother Siron immediately”

Ardan’s own ribs were broken and fractured yet he knew his Siron and Rhodri would have their hands full, The chapter will recover in time but they cannot faulter in their service, not to this crusade and not to the Emperor.Gritting his teeth Ardan straightened his posture, they were about to return home.

The thunderhawk landed gracefully and opened immediately to Brother Siron who quickly scooped up Faolan and led him out of the aircraft. Rhodri assisted a dazed Cearul, walking him quickly behind Siron. Ardan was the last to disembark and was greeted by dozens of his brothers who now looked to the old dog for leadership, what Ardan experienced next was not stage fright but a haze of uncertainty, unsure of what to say, how to inspire he simply spat out whatever would relieve him of such a dire situation

“The Imperium has not survived this long by gawking, back to your duties”

The gathered crowd dispersed allowing Ardan to skulk to the makeshift chapel that allowed one some quiet. Ardan knelt before his Emperor no matter how much his ribs protested, he prayed for guidance in the coming days, he prayed that his sword arm strikes true when the chapter needs him most, he prayed that in his final days that he does his chapter proud. A noise from behind the marine forced the marine from his solitude, Brother Carwyn approached Ardan slowly.

“I knew i’d find you here” uttered the chaplain “Seeking guidance for your new …. Position ?”

Ardan began to rise before Carwyn outstretched his crozius

“Sit and let me assist you in your duties Brother Rymus, now what is it you seek ?”

“Guidance as you said, strength in battle and a good death” admitted Ardan

“I see” stated Carwyn “All things that are in your power to achieve”

Ardan eyed the bone white helm with shrewd eyes “Speak plainly brother, I am not in the mood for vagueness”

“Guidance, the chapter needs your experience and mind not your body we have plenty whom would sacrifice theirs as you have done. Secondly , Strength, you posses a strong sword arm brother and it will always strike true provided you purge whatever self doubt clouds your judgement. Finally a good death, provided you fight like a cornered animal every time brother you will have a good death, that I guarantee”.

With that Carwyn departed as quickly as he came, not one for small talk he knew his purpose, said what needed to be said and left, leaving Ardan to ponder his actions.

The marine lifted himself up gripping the hilt of his chainsword tightly and walked back out of the muted chapel and made his way to the command center of Canis Caelum. Ardan took a deep breath and entered the room with a hiss of the door. The room looked desolate, with one flickering light beamed above the central circular table with a holographic map of Luna Maximus which was scattered with various Imperial aquilas. Scattered papers and files were spread all over the room with seats not tucked back in under their desks. The air was stale and dusty and sunlight was creeping in from the closed windows. It just dawned on Ardan that he must have been the first one to step foot in the command center since they all marched off to face the Dread Mobb, turning on the main lights and opening the windows, Ardan began freshening up the command center again. He called in servitors to organise the files and papers and had serfs monitor the derelict radio channels and security systems that connect all across Imperial systems on Crion and her moons. With the Command Centre back in shape Ardan began to read the reports on his allies and their progress in this crusade, the Chaos insurrection at Hive Crogger seems to have been stamped out under Inquisitor Randall and his allies while the Tillers have been gaining momentum on Crion herself with a decisive blow in the form of New Pavus. Rumors of a Nurglite Cult in Arcannus has forced the neighbouring city of Nortannis to enable Quarantine. Rumors of a Tau presence have been rumored but nothing concrete on that front as of yet and Payne’s have been dying left and right. A red blinking light on the Holographic map sent the Command Centre in disarray, The signal was a distress beacon from the city of Canhock, a mere stone's throw away from Canis Caelum. Ardan sprang into action

“Get me a feed from the city’s security cameras immediately, prepare a squad to depart in 5 minutes and get me contact with the mayoral office”

Serfs were sent scattering from the command center to relay their Alpha’s orders

Who would be so bold to attack a city right from under our noses ? thought Ardan

A nearby monitor buzzed to life showing a market square in Canhock, Blood was seeping into the ground as mutilated corpses littered the marketplace. The market stalls were on fire and there was screams in the background. A second monitor beamed on revealing a saggy old man wielding a shaky glass of wine, men all around him were checking windows and barricading doors. He featured a pathetic comb over and a feeble pencil moustache, he was overweight and patches of sweat had developed under his laboring armpits.

“Mayor , this is Ardan Rymus of the Emperor’s Hounds reporting in, give me your name and situation at once”

The old man sipped his cup of wine again and spilt droplets over his numerous chins, he did not bother to wipe them off before responding

“My name is Kurt Baasch Space Marine and the truth is we don’t bloody know what is happening, they struck fast and have sent the city in disarray. I have since fled to my safe room with whatever guardsmen I could gather and await my fate”

“Stand firm Bassch we are on our way”

Baasch nodded and opened another bottle of wine before the transmission was cut.

What remained of Honor Guard Madra was gathered at the launch pad along with Tactical Squad Mara. Emyr Glaw, Pryce Nye and Cabhan Cadarn stood expectantly as Ardan greeted the battered band of warriors. Their deep purple armor was scratched and dented from the gargant, their weapons were bloodied and dirty and their expressions were grim

“Something dares to strike under our noses, perhaps they think they can get away with it in our weakened state”

Ardan chuckled

“The fools, let’s go show these xenos the extent of their sins”

A few marines cracked a smile before donning their helms, the best Ardan could hope for given the present situation.

The flight was short and his aircraft was requesting landing permission for the Mayor’s palace before he knew it

“Sergeant Donnus land your squad near the city’s gates and organise whatever guardsmen remain, form a perimeter and keep in contact at all times”

“Roger that landing now”

Honor Guard Madra stepped out onto the deserted platform with suspicion, rain swept the city with looting and rioting occurring below if the screams are to be any indication.

“Sergeant Donnus keep an eye out for looters and rioters, suppressed them if they persist in their activities”

“Will do”

A thunder from a bolter brought one desperate criminal to a foul end over the comlink

“The palace is deserted” spotted Pryce “Are we too late ?”

“No signs of blood or combat” surveyed Cabhan “Where was this safe room ?”

“Around this corner” answered Ardan as he navigated the luxurious halls of marble and silk.

Flanked on both sides by ceremonial pieces of armor lead the marines to a thick steel door that one could have mistaken for a bank

“Guess this is where the mayor is hiding” stated Emyr

“No signs of entry, lets go”

Ardan approached the steel door

“Mayor Baasch, the palace is secure come on out”

Seconds went by with silence, Ardan was worried that there was nought but rotting bodies behind the wall of steel but the creaking of a wheel turning reassured him

Two bulky men armed with Accatran Model 34s were the first to emerge behind them stubbled the small man who appeared on the monitor earlier, his balance was off his breath stank of wine and he had bloodshot eyes

Ardan turned to a nearby guardsmen

“How much did he have to drink ?”

The guardsmen scratched his head

“Three or four bottles ? He doesn’t take stress well milord”

Ardan growled

“Take your men and secure the palace, then work your way down to the rest of the city”

The guardsmen was about to object but the stabbing eyes from Ardan proved to be persuasive.

“Sergeant Donnus report, what is your status ?”

“The lower city is in disarray but no xenos presence detected, a lot of blood and gore but no xenos corpses, some bodies have been poisoned indicating eldar involvement”

Ardan clenched his jaw

“I am on my way”

Kurt Baasch reached out to the departing marines

“W-W-Where are you g-g-going ?”

Ardan stopped and turned around

“Mayor Baasch, you ever had any trouble with the tillers ?”

The man stared into Ardan’s eyes for what seemed like an eternity before lazily shaking his head

“I see, well your city is succumbing to rioting and looting and if enough damage is done starvation is likely to follow, on top of that seeing their mayor hide in his home while the city is ravaged will only give the tillers support here in Canhock and if that happens then the Emperor’s Hounds might just see it necessary to declare martial law. If things come to that, there will only be one to blame”.

With the warning served Ardan left the palace to survey the scene at the main gate. It was a scene of carnage, Blood and guts decorated the streets like cobblestones, mutilated corpses were commonplace. Vomit was sprayed all over the nearby alleyways due to either the smell or the sheer sight of the scene. Poison shards were embedded in some of the structures and many people have been reported missing. There was no doubt in Ardan’s mind that this was the eldar’s handiwork, he had witnessed it on Aspen many times.

“Sergeant Donnus remain here and keep order, and keep that mayor in line”

Ardan embarked back on his thunderhawk and headed back to Canis Caelum

“You requested my presence sir ?”

It was Idris, one of the more prominent serfs that served the chapter

“Get Taranis of the Carcharodons on standby, I have some news he might be interested in “




Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2017/04/03 16:35:26


Post by: Irishpeacockz


The refugee camp that sat just outside of Nortannis’s walls was everything the Tillers hated about Crion. The motley excuse for shelter was little more than some wind scarred tents and swamp wood fires. Disease had swept the camp killing some of the refugees and weakening many others, mothers held their dying young ones in their arms waiting for the inevitable, sons buried their fathers and husbands watched as their wives withered away. Here the Tillers made temporary lodging, seven of the freedom fighters gathered around a weak fire while the remaining Tillers stood guard. Mason looked up at Spencer as he poked at the fire with a wet reed.

Mason spoke.
“You never answered my question lieutenant, how did you get out of the city”

Lieutenant Mills did not look up from the fire as he spoke.
“Bad luck, we got word of a loyalist weapons shipment that was en route to Nortannis. Intel suggested that it was guarded by only a single squad of guards from Dorn’s Shield, easy pickings. So I took twenty of my best men and set an ambush. We pull the usual shenanigan put one of our men in a pdf rags and crash a bike in the middle of the road, the plan was fine. Only thing that went wrong was instead of some jack ass PDFers ten of the damn sisters leaped out of those trucks. The boys thought they could take them and began opening fire. Last thing I remember before everything goes dark was the screams of my men as the sisters burned them alive with their flamers.”

Lynn looked over.
“How did you survive?”

The fire reflected in Mills’s eyes
“After the battle was over some old man found me, took me back to his rice patty and nursed me back to health. Funny part is he saw my PDF uniform and told me it was an honor to help one of Crion’s finest. By the time I was able to get out of bed the city was already in lockdown. “

Mason rubbed his chin.
“So you haven’t been inside the city in months, how do you intend to get us in there.”

Mills sighed.
“I know of a way but it won’t be easy. There are some ancient ruins not far to the south, from what I understand they should lead into the city.”

Mason raised an eyebrow.

“Should?”

Mills elaborated.

“People have tried to explore these ruins but all sorts of horrible things live down there, no one has ever returned from that place.”

Mason chuckled
“Sounds lovely.”

The lieutenant made no comment and watched in silence as the last of the fire's embers become ash.

The swamp water was chest deep and the Tillers now hoisted their crude collection of auto and las guns over their head. Mason swiped away with his sword at mangled swamp bushes and long reeds. The tillers were constantly swatting at the mosquitos and other biting insects but Mason paid them no mind.

Despite these miserable conditions the Tillers made the best of their trek, singing as they marched. Kyle “Lucky” Buchanan led his comrades in the song.
“The wind may blow, the cock may crow
The rain may rain, and the snow may snow
But you will not frighten Jack Nassau
The boldest pirate you ever saw.”
Mason smiled as Lynn joined her fellow Tillers in song
“At long last from across the sea, when Horatio he sends after me
When we get there with our big guns, of course the battle it was won.
For the enemy did a' run away' when they caught sight of Big Nassau.
A man like him so big and mean, could never be killed by a laslock’s beam.”

A part of Mason wished he knew the words to the ballad of this captain Nassau.
“The wind may blow, the cock may crow
The rain may rain, and the snow may snow
But you will not frighten Jack Nassau
The boldest pirate you ever saw.”
Lieutenant Mills saw the half sunken statue of one of the fabled Blood Dragons and spoke. The black stone guardian gazed a thousand miles north deep into the jaws of a sunken cave.

“We are near.”

Just as the Lieutenant spoke a pair of coal black eyes rose above the green murk. Poor Kyle “Lucky” Buchanan never stood a chance as the massive gator clamped down on his torso. The Tiller screamed in agony as the gator began gnawing on his lower abdomen. The Tillers rose their weapons and aimed for the beast but could not get a shot without hitting their comrade. Kyle gave one final bloodcurdling screech before the fifteen-foot monster dragged the Tiller under the black and bloody swamp water. Three bubbles arose and then the swamp fell silent again.

Lyn screamed as she fired blindly into the swamp.

Mason spoke

“There’s nothing we can do now.”

Lyn cursed as the Lieutenant spoke more to himself than anyone else.

“There is a reason these ruins are unexplored.”

Slowly the Tillers trudged forward into an ancient cavern, they deployed glow orbs and activated what ever lights they had. The dim neon lights illuminated the murky bog water in a moot green glow. The ancient walls of the cave now mostly weathered and taken hold by the swamp fauna. Occasionally ancient stone faces of men and dragons jetted from the walls, whatever emotion they conveyed at their construction was lost replaced now by misery and dread.

Mason looked at the carving and he felt as if these stone guardians still watched him.

“What was this place for?” asked Mason.

Lieutenant Mills spoke in whispers.

“Isn’t it obvious, this is a tomb.”

The Tillers and Mason entered the next room, the water level dropped from their waists to their knees and the tomb began to seem in better condition here than at the cave’s entry. Along either side of the wall was a great stone mural depicting two dragons eating each others tails. At the center of the circle of dragons was some words written in the Blood Dragons forgotten tongue. Above the carvings were two stone dragon gargoyles forever roaring at the floor bellow them.

Mason looked around him this place didn’t feel right. Mason looked over to Lyn and spoke.

“Do you have any idea what that symbol means?”

Lyn spoke remembering the history she learned back in school.

“Scholars call it the ouroboros, nobody knows what it means. Some say that the dragons represented the Blood Dragons and Crion and how they were one, others say that it is a prophecy that one day the Blood Dragons will return and swallow all evil and chaos. I like to think it a metaphor for the struggle of Crion’s people forever at odds with the world itself.”

Mason was about to comment on the subject when the two tillers at point blundered. The stone gargoyles eyes ignited in flame as fountains of blazing promethium erupted from their mouths and engulfed the two unlucky Tillers in flame. The flames roared for five seconds before they quit leaving only the flaming corpses of two Tillers.

Lieutenant Mills cursed

“Emperor damn it this place is booby-trapped, watch where you step.”
“How do you expect us to do that with all this damn water.” Growled one of the surviving Tillers.

Mills spoke as he cautiously stepped forward. “Just be careful damn it.”

Eventually the Tillers were completely out of the water Mason found that a large leech had clung itself to his leg Mason removed the parasite and quickly placed this gift from Nurgle into his pouch for later.

The floor was covered in moss and the bones of rats and other large vermin. Mason heard one of the Tillers still humming the ballad of Captain Nassau to himself, barely audible over the crunching of bones and squishing of moss. Soon Mason that the bones grew larger as they progressed deeper and deeper into the ruins, there was no mistake these were human remains. The part came to a massive room. Several generations of human skulls littered the floor accompanied by the scattered remains of the rest of their corpses. Mason kneeled down and looked at the bones, some of them still had bits of flesh clung to them and the rabid bite marks of rats.

Mason drew his pistol as he spoke.

“This one is only a few days old. Whatever did this might still be lurking around.”

Lyn looked raised her rifle and spoke

“What could possibly have done all this.”

Lyn’s answer came in the form of a synthetic bellow.

“Who dares trespass upon my brothers’ graves.”

Mechanical red eyes came to life in the darkness as the massive dreadnaught lumbered into the Tillers light.

“By the Emperor.” Said Lyn.

One of the Tillers began firing his auto gun at the mechanical giant. The Dreadnaught spoke.

“Heresy detected, purging with extreme prejudice.”

The dreadnaught seized the offending Tiller and crushed his torso in the palm of his massive power fist.

Mills shouted as he pointlessly shot at the armored behemoth.

“Run, run, run.”

The Tillers scattered and began heading down any path they could find. However two more of the rebels were not quick enough as the dreadnaught seized one by its legs and slammed him against the floor. The second Tiller was engulfed by the fire of the power fist’s built in flamer.

“Fleeing is futile your destruction in arraigned.”

Mills, Mason, Lyn and three of the surviving Tillers ran down a long corridor. They heard a life ending scream from their missing comrade and did not slow down for a fear of joining him.

Eventually Lieutenant Mills came to a stop attempting to catch his breath.

“I think we lost it.”

One of the surviving Tillers began hyperventilating.

“We’re so feth, emperor damn it why’d we come here.”

Lyn smacked the back of the Tillers head

“Get a hold of yourself, panicking won’t do anybody any good.”

As the Tillers began a frightened argument over how they should proceed Mason noticed something that looked brass beneath the moss covered walls, something unlike the rest of the ruins. Mason approached the metal on the wall and began clearing away the decades of mold and began seeing letters. Mason clawed more at the green gunk and found a sign.

“137886-2B Sewer Access.”

Lyn laughed a mixture of relief and disbelief.

“This is it we made it.”

Mason saw a wheel overgrown in moss and mold, he seized it and began turning it with all his strength. Lyn and several of the Tillers began to aid Mason and soon enough the wheel cracked loose and a door that had likely not been open in two centuries creaked open and greeted thee party the putrid stink of a sewer.

Mason took a deep breath and smiled.

“Smells like freedom.”

Lyn gagged.

“Is it to late to go back and let the dreadnaught kill me.”

Mills removed a bandana from his coat and wrapped it around his face.
“Come on just try not to think about what your swimming in.”

One by one the Tillers entered the sewer and shut the entrance behind them.

While the foray into the sewers was virtually a walk in the park for Mason it was near unbearable for his Tiller allies. Mills found some writing on the wall that indicated that they were just beneath the city slums. The Tiller Lieutenant pointed to a manhole as their way out and the party eager to get out of the sewers quickly climbed the up later.

Mill’s eyes peeked out from the bottom of the manhole and found the coast was clear. Mason was momentarily blinded by the sun when Mill’s completely removed the massive metal cap. It took Mason a moment to get acclimated but eventually his eyes settled.

Mason looked at the city laid out before him a completely empty street surrounded by massive tenement blocks.

Mills laughed as he basked in the midday sun.

“Welcome to Nortannis, the city that sees all.”

Spoiler:
Chazz wrote the vast majority of this piece, I added one line.



Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2017/04/04 06:04:13


Post by: Kharne the Befriender


=====The Megalith, Yankor, Luna Epsilon=====
Inside the conference room of the Necron base Kageros swiveled in his seat and he waited for his commanders to enter. Slowly one-by-one they eventually made their way in, first Grulahk and Numek, then Tach’var, Xarak, then finally Tach’var. Kageros looked at the bleak amber lights that kept the room from plunging into darkness, then to his command, “Alright, as I’m sure most of you are aware the Megalith is fully functional and our numbers have grown, if only by a little. The Imperium has taken down a Gargant and kept the local Ork population in check, no small feat.”

He let his words settle in before he spoke again, “The Imperium has more enemies than allies here, this we can use to our advantage, they have just spent much time and resources in battle. We shall strike now before they can fully recover or acquire more reinforcements. Hopefully our Chaos allegiances will see our banner and attack as well. This planet, this system, will be ours. I’ve already sent our battle plans to your respective terminals, we launch tomorrow.”

Everyone nodded and left, except Grulahk, he had further business with his Phaeron, “My lord, I have received word from the sentinels, one has made contact with Dahk’ash dynasty, the-”.
Kageros cut him off, “The Frozen Court, and what of our sentinel, when was he recieved?”
Grulahk turned his head, “A week ago...We’ve lost contact. The Dahk’ash are not far from here, in stellar terms, perhaps we can call on them?”
“No, the Butcher is not to be called or contacted, he would add our heads to his cloak. Enough of this though, we have much work to do.” He rose and left, a gleeful smile on his face.

They had spent the last weeks finishing the megalith, bolstering the gun emplacements, loading the hanger bays with the multitude of Necron and Tau vehicles. The Tarellians had organized into their tribes, including the newly formed necro-tarellian tribe led by Demerdul himself. The Tau under their Shas’El’s marched in their Cadres and took their seats. The metallic ivory legions of the Kageros were the last to take their place, the multitude of phalanxes stood motionlessly in the deployment bay, waiting for the time the ramp would drop and their fury be unleashed.

Kageros took his seat on the bridge, the engineering and control staff running back and forth managing the systems and trying to keep everything under control, it was a few minutes before everyone settled down. Kageros stood and looked out the front display, over the obscenely large crescent shape and large prow running straight ahead, he smirked as he thought of how many villages were smaller than it, it could crush a city with its size. His mind returned to the bridge as the staff looked to him, a great vessel demanded a great speech.
“It has been an amazing feat, what we have accomplished here. All of you on this great Megalith of ours have contributed everything you have to make this possible, people of many worlds and with many reasons find yourself here and it is with our shared hatred that we lead this newest assault. The Imperium calls these crusades, so we launch a crusade of our own and with our combined arms this crusade of fury will be christened with the blood of empires. Today we rise.”

No sooner were the words uttered that craft shook and surged with energy, the anti-gravitational and propulsion systems kicked to life with a deafening roar and a blast the felled trees. The stark white hull shimmered in the sun as the gold plating glimmered. Kageros howled with laughter as he held onto his seat, “Bridge, set course to Hive Cogger. Actually, belay that order, set course for Arcannus."


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2017/04/04 21:18:45


Post by: chazz huggins


The Space Wolves had settled themselves in the Blood Dragons ruins. Ulfric disliked this place its taboo nature contaminated the Wolf Lord’s senses. The zone which had been dubbed Site Charlie was some sort of laboratory and the Blood Dragons went through great pains to ensure that it would never be tampered with. The ruins nearly killed several of Ulfric’s best scouts and wounded several more. The Wolf Lord wanted nothing to do with this place and were it not for the pleading and coaxing of his Iron Priest he would have abandoned this site long ago. But Brother Davard insisted that these ruins were of technological importance and that they could hold secrets that could help the entire chapter. Eventually Ulfric buckled to the priest’s request and ordered his men to site Charlie, he figured they earned a rest after having triumphed over the Gargant. Still Ulfric would have rather made camp with the Wotan in the Avar mountains or with House Valorn at Grimjoy Hive, but Ulfric will manage two weeks was little to pay for “Perhaps the greatest rediscovery in the last century “. Still the faces of stone dragons made the wolf lord uneasy, Davard better be right.

“Ulfric.”

The wolf lord turned to see the commander of his wolf guard Conan. The Wolf Lord smiled at his old friend and spoke.

“Have we run out of ale again?”

Conan spoke ignoring the Wolf Lord’s joke.

“Brother Davard has sent for you he says the Blood Dragon dreadnaught has awakened.”

Ulfric was not expecting this news, the Dreadnaught had not come online since it was discovered in the behemoth in site Hennery on the moon. Ulfric had not known that Davard was still working on the Dreadnaught.

“Where are they.”

Conan pointed to some ruins and spoke

“They are in the lab.”

Ulfric nodded and headed for the ruins Conan trailing behind him bolt gun in hand.

Davard did his best to restore the ancient Blood Dragon lab, teams of Servitors worked round the clock to clear the debris out of the lab while teams of Karels did what ever they could to salvage ancient pieces of tech from the ruins. The Dreadnaught stood on the far side of the room standing opposite of Iron Priest Davard. The Dreadnaught spoke static corrupting its speech on occasion.

“Brother Worjech, did I ever tell you about the battle of Blood Cliffs, how Brother Ortan slew that foul Eldar witch. What did that despicable xeno call itself again I forget.”

Davard spoke with a mixture of reverence and sympathy.

“Brother Ronin, do you not remember that battle is nearly nine millennia past, Forge Master Worjech Ivo is no longer with us and neither is Captain Ortan.”

The Dreadnaught was silent for a moment perhaps attempting to understand the Iron Priest’s words. In a moment the Dreadnaught bellowed with remembrance.

“Valundar that was its name, His head still decorates the great hall at Drake’s Point.”

Wolf Lord Ulfric approached the Iron Priest the Dreadnaught turned its face plate at the Wolf Lord and spoke again through ancient crackling speakers.

“Brother Captain Shang, I am glad to see you I was just recounting to are Master of the Forge the battle of Blood Cliffs. You were always a better story teller than I perhaps you should tell him.”

Ulfric looked over to Davard and spoke.

“How is he awake?”

Davard spoke still not sure how the Dreadnaught activated itself.

“I don’t know I was running some tests over there when suddenly he’s walking around the lab, talking about his brothers.”

Ulfric glanced at the dreadnaught and then spoke again to Davard.

“He seems very talkative.”

Davard nodded “Yes much more so then we initially found him, however he thinks we are his fellow dragons.”

Ulfric nodded and approached the Dreadnaught and spoke.

“Tell me brother what is your name.”

The dreadnaught spoke with a mechanical chuckle.

“You forget the name of your oldest battle brother and companion? The rank of Captain has gone to your head if you forget the name of Ronin. A good jest Shang.”
Ulfric spoke delicately remembering his conversation with Bjorn Fell-Handed back on Fenris.

“Brother Ronin please listen to my words carefully you have slumbered for a very long time. I am Wolf Lord Ulfric Stormclaw of the Emperor’s Vlka Fenryka. Your Chapter has gone missing we are not sure what has happened to them, it is our hope that you can perhaps illuminate what is it that happened to them.”

Ronin fell silent were it not for the subtle glow of his still functioning left eye Ulfric would have thought it returned to hibernation. After nearly a minute of silence there came a mechanical croak.

“The times of fire are upon us.”

Ulfric and Davard quickly glanced at one and other to confirm what they heard and the single red eye of the dreadnaught went dark and the room was taken by silence. Another minute passed and the Eye returned to life as Ronin spoke again.

“Brother Shang it is good to see you, I was just about to tell Brother Ivo about the battle of the Blood Cliffs.”


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2017/04/05 11:55:51


Post by: Tactical_Spam


"Boy! Get oht here!" the old farmer called into his house. The ceiling creaked as a boy not more than five or six ran down the stairs. The rags he wore for clothing were drenched in sweat from the oppressive summer heat. The farmer grabbed the boy by the ear and pulled him back into the fields. He threw the boy down in a patch of land where the plant stalks were withered and dead, their insides destroyed by small rodents. The boy stood up and wiped his nose. One of the dead stalks was shoved in his face, "Didn I tell you ta poison the varmints?"

"I-I did papa! Th-they musta come back in the night... I swear I did it!" the boy said, stifling a cry. The farmer slapped his across the face.

"Like hell you did! Nah go an poison'm agein an don't come back ein until it's done."

The boy wiped the tears from his eyes and ran to get the poison and the farmer went into the house and out of the baking sun. The boy ran back to the fields and quickly starting filling the many small holes in the field. While the heat didn't bother him so much, the prospect of getting sun burnt did so the boy did most of his work in the denser parts of the field where the tall plant stalks would hide him from the sun. In the darkest part of the field, the boy found a small berry bush growing. Practically a delicacy to the poor farmer boy, he gobbled the berries down selfishly. Feeling full, the boy laid down in the cool shade and fell sleep.

The boy was forced awake by the forceful hand of the farmer. He pulled the boy out of the plants and dragged him hurriedly towards the house. The boy tried to free himself, breaking into tears. The farmer threw the door open and tossed the boy inside, bolting the door shut and drawing the curtains of the house closed. He came back and a firm hand covered the boy's mouth.

"Hush now!.." the farmer whispered, looking back out the windows nervously. The boy had never seen the farmer so scared before. "We are gonna play a game. I need you ta hide in the basement and count to... count to 100... and dont come out until you have. Do not come out for anythin', not even if I call you agein, ya hear?"

The boy nodded and ran down the stairs. With the faint light of the rising moon through the curtains and floor boards, the boy found a hiding spot in a barrel. Nestling up to a lion's share of dried plant stalks, the boy fell silent and waited.

"1...2...3... ," there was a loud banging on the front door of the house. The boy thought it sounded like one of the night time beasts he always heard howling at the moon.

"9...10...11... ," it broke the door off its hinges and came into the house. The slow shuffle of a weary man wandered the house. A rasping breath followed it when the shuffle stopped.

"33...34...35... ," the boy could hear it overturning furniture and rummaging through cabinets. The man-thing seemed more frantic now. It's paced quickened and it's heavy hands beat on the walls.

"56...57...58... ," the thing stopped at the top of the steps. The first stair creaked loudly. Then the second. The boy held his mouth shut as the thing came into the basement. It tore the lid off a barrel on the opposite side of the room.

The sound of thunder broke the agonizing silence and left the boy's ears ringing. The thing howled in pain and said something in a different language. It threw the barrel and another thunder crash filled the room. The boy heard someone fall and lay still. A pair of feet raced out of the basement and up the stairs. More thunder sounded then the house fell silent.

"98...99...100..." the boy whispered and pushed the top off his hiding place. He climbed out and looked at the thing that had fallen. It was pale as the moon and had a hunched back. A silver mask concealed its face. Dark liquid oozed from its body. The boy gagged turned away. He held his breath till he made it to the top of the steps.

His house had been tore to pieces. Everything was broken or misplaced. Claw marks and sharp spines covered the walls. Two more of the man-things were face down, neither made it very far past the door frame. The wind whipped through the house through tattered curtains and a broken window. The boy looked outside. A hulking, dark figure stood in a ring of dead man things. A curved sword glistened in the warrior's hand. He looked up at the boy and baded him to come closer and the boy did. He jumped through the broken window and walked across the sand towards the warrior.

"Where's papa?" the boy asked. The warrior shook his head and turned towards a light in the distance. The boy could see a crescent moon and three stars on the warrior's shoulder. He took the warrior by the hand and they walked towards the light.

* * *


"My lord," a quiet voice said. A soft hand touched his face and for a second he thought he was home on Kattifrakk, but he knew better. That life didn't belong to him. Zehk opened his eyes.

"I have a name. Do not call me 'lord' like you are a chapter serf skulking in the shadows, Helga," Zehk said while pulling a hood over his head. The swamp did not favor the Possessed much and cursed him with a steady rainfall.

"Y-yes, Zehk," the Commissar stammered out. Seldom used was her first name, especially among the Astartes. Zehk waved her away as a ponderous Terminator pushed its way through the Nurgle Cultists. The grotesque Astartes stood above Zehk and maggots wiggled their way out of two holes in his helmet and fell upon Zehk's greaves. A long, rune-carved scythe removed the hood from Zehk's head, exposing him again to the rain.

"Who are you?" the Terminator asked, his gaze never leaving Zehk.

"Zehk Twiceborn, Champion of the New Order and host of the daemon, Suolyn'ne. My lord-"

"I only need a name, not a biography. Why are you here, Possessed-One?"

Zehk laughed to himself and looked up at the Terminator. A green, filthy visor looked back. The Terminator resembled the Death Guard on all levels except the coloration of the armor underneath the pus and rust. "You are awfully bitter for a Nurgle worshipper. Did the Grandfather decide to keep your entrails inside your body today?"

"I have no qualm in killing you. I hope you know that," the Terminator said, his scowl increasing behind his helmet, "and at the same time you are almost a miracle sent from Father Nurgle himself..."

Zehk rose to his feet and planted his newly claimed force sword between the loose tiles of the Cathedral floor. "Are you asking for my help?"

"Reluctantly I am..."

There was a long pause between the two for what seemed like hours. Zehk was the first to break the silence, "I will follow you into battle, Garathal, as long as you keep your distance. I have my own mission to fulfill."

The Terminator put a hand on Zehk's shoulder and laughed, almost mocking Zehk's laugh, "Good. You are easier to shoot at a distance." Garathal turned and saw Schäfer barking orders to her subordinates. A Nurgle cultist accidentally strayed too close and bumped Schäfer's shoulder, smearing all manners of filth across her jacket. Schäfer returned the favor by smearing his grey matter all over the adjacent wall with her bolt pistol. Garathal spoke again in a hushed tone, "Watch that one more closely, Possessed-One. I can't help but feel that she is very close to showing her true colors."


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2017/04/07 08:44:23


Post by: Sgt. Vanden


Iodius thundered down the narrow hallway of the Battle Barge Purgatus Califrax, the massive weight of his ornate power armour sending his steps reverberating through the entire section of this ship. As he walked, he thought. The new matters worried him, although he would never show any sign of emotion regarding them. The rumours were true. He knew it. He ran his hand through his now purely grey hair, and felt a long scar that stretched from the top of his head all the way to his neck. A new wound, only reminding him that despite all of the stories, Astartes were only mortal.
And then he saw it again. In his peripheral, the shadow-armoured figure of his silent companion appeared. He knew that if he tried focusing on it, there would be nothing there. But he was not insane. There was something there, just as real as the sun in the viewport, or as blood in a man’s veins. Odd. That was a weird metaphor for his languished mind to come up with. Lack of sleep, he told himself. It was true, he had only slept for four hours over the past month. He had been awake, staring into the abyss, hoping something would not stare back as he looked for what he hoped was not there.
But it had stared back. And now he had to respond.
Iodius stalked into the main bridge, his stride long, arduous, but with all the meaning in the universe.
“Get me line to our ground forces. We are pulling out.” He spoke with as much authority as the weary chaplain could muster. The deck crew fell silent.
“S-sire?” One of the braver men spoke, while the rest sat there, stunned.
“Get me a line. To our ground forces. We are pulling them out. Understand, Felix?” Iodius responded, with a hint of venom to his words. This was very much unlike Iodius, but the crew responded in accordance with the venerable Astartes’ order. A few minutes passed, and Iodius finally got the call in. “This is Chaplain Iodius Benturas, to all Stone Warden forces on Crion and its moons. We are leaving this foul world. Our place is with our brothers. Contingents of our former brothers, the same renegades that left us to die when the foul lackeys of chaos came to our system have been spotted in a nearby sector. It has been written in blood that they will not escape our wrath, and it will be so. Mount up. We go to battle with the foul denizens of chaos. Speak not to anyone. This is our battle, we do not need explain ourselves anyone.” He closed the line, then turned to the nearest deck officer, a dark shadow cast over his old face. “Leave the encryption off. I want everyone to hear it.” The deck officer stood in a stunned silence as Iodius walked back out of the bridge.

Iodius let a snake of a smile grace his lips, as he thought of the other Imperial’s reactions to his message. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. Iodius would get his vengeance for all the lives the renegades cost him, even if it meant squandering his word. His smile faded just as quick as he heard the first noise come out of his ghostly companion.
…Death…” It croaked, its voice sent shivers down Iodius’ spine, as though it was never meant to talk in its miserable life, as though it broke a law of the universe by speaking with Iodius. It’s voice was that of a dead mans. Nothing he could think of could get it out of his head, until he stopped thinking.
“It comes for us all, spectre. You of all things should know that. I embrace it.” He spoke with as much holiness as he could, and recited litanies of purity in his mind. He knew the apparition could understand his thoughts, and was glad to not hear it again.

The ground forces of the Stone Wardens’ did just as Iodius said. They up and left, without so much as a word, as the chaplain ordered. Thunderhawks took to the skies, carrying whatever supplies they could fit. Astartes bustled on the ground, piling up whatever they could take with them, and scuttling the rest. Progress was moving fast, and within the next two days, no trace of the former encampment could be found.

Iodius watched from space. He watched the stars, taking in their vastness. It was too long since he last looked into the stars. Too much work to do left him unable to appreciate the Emperor’s wish. To see all the stars as united with each other as they are united with the blackness of space. That was the Emperor’s wish. And the heretics took that away from the immortal god-Emperor. They would all pay dearly for their transgressions. He would make sure of that.

Spoiler:
This is marking the end of the Stone Warden's. :/ I just feel as though there isn't anything else to do with them, and this honestly took me far too long to write. I guess if I get back in the mood, I'll keep the Guard as they are, but that's just so I have something to fall back on should I choose to return sooner than I expect. Live long and prosper!
-Vanden, Whale-lord of Panties.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2017/04/07 17:50:58


Post by: Sgt_Smudge


"Are we nearly there y-"
"For Throne's sake, not yet!" Wires shouted back from the driver's seat. Hustle opened his mouth to complain again, but fell short. The Hound's gaze silenced the grumpy Ratling, and he uncomfortably shifted on the bare metal bench of the half-track's passenger compartment.

The mercenary squad had been on the road for most of the day now. The roads on their journey had been dull at the best of time, paddy fields and crops as far as the eye could see. Naught but hillside and farmland greeted the sore eyes of the merc crew, with the occasional lake or craggy hill to break the winding roads of the main continent. This was firmly Imperial land, the Hound noted. Naraya was the seat of Imperial power, the most farmland, the most citizens - the home of the capital at Drake's Point and the famed Orbital Elevator installation. As reports went, the other continents were far removed: Cambria was an ork-infested jungle for the most part, and Krius was similarly arable like it's larger cousin, but split by the Tiller war efforts on it. Not like here. Aside from the minor Tiller rebel spheres in the cities like Kampf's Anchorage and the recent liberation of the Black Water Bastion, Naraya remained inviolate. That was why the Hound's presence here was so important.

"Our situation is improving drastically," Vandred had told the mercenary leader. "New Pavus is in Tiller hands, with thanks to you, and that fits my liking well enough. Other battles are occurring over Krius properly now, with Tiller forces supplemented by Garathal's contingent and other allies besieging Nortannis. The continent is losing it's grip. We even have a hold on the mainland now. We need to cement that properly. Push the advantage, as it were."
As usual, the Hound had gone along with his employer. He had no special connection to the Tillers, or Sunstrike Cadre, but a contract was a contact. Kassani remained in support in orbit, his gnarled hands counting out the coin they acquired on Crion below. Of course, even the Hound had cause for concern when Vandred named the next city to infiltrate.

"San Christina?" he shook his head in disapproval. "The whole place is crawling in priests and Sororitas."
"Sororitas?" The Tau native queried the mercenary.
"Sisters of Battle. The elite of the Imperial Church, very well equipped, very well trained. Aside from the Scions we faced at New Pavus, these are about the toughest bitches short of Astartes themselves."
"I don't understand," said Vandred. "You've fought Astartes before, why will these be any different?"
"We... we didn't exactly fight fair with the Space Marines. Your kind would call it pragmatic, what we did, but for humans, it was underhanded. I don't regret it, but it is what it is." The Hound shrugged. "This is completely different. You're asking my mercs to take a city guarded by the elite of the fething Imperial Church?"
Vandred sighed. "Not to take. To gain intelligence. Attacking blindly is not the Sunstrike way. The sun always glows on the horizon before it rises up."

They had hijacked a truck of hired farm hands a few miles from Black Water Bastion. The workers from Milton and Small's Logistics Co. Ltd were not best pleased when Wires disabled their engine with a jury-rigged EMP charge, but they seemed to lighten up when the Hound tossed them a small fortune of Thrones and a vox beacon for pickup - it wasn't like their work as a farm hand would pay much. Once on the road, the drive along the southern coast was uneventful. More passenger trucks passed by, but they were few and far between. The road to San Christina was straight and solid.
Now the road had slowed to a halt.

"What's the hold up?" The Hound clambered to the front of the vehicle. Wires pointed ahead. The Hound couldn't see much. A freight lorry obscured most of the dusty windshield, blocking him seeing much more. But there was no missing the built-up curtain wall and towering spires and steeples behind it. The church city of San Christina was just ahead.
"Inspection patrol." Wires cursed. "Knew this would happen."
"We've got nothing to worry about." The Hound sat back down, and checked nonchalantly under the stripped back seating. The team's more incriminating weaponry, like Hustle's needle rifle, Wires' plasma pistol, and his own broadsword, were stashed alongside the fourth member of the team.
"A patrol? And we're not even in the city yet?" Vulture scoffed. "I ache to be upright again, Hound. I was not built for this confined space." Her olive coloured limbs, whipcords with hands, were wrapped around the Kroot's frame, squeezing her into the seating stash. "Don't talk too much, bastard."

He grinned, and lowered the seating lid on the Kroot. "Hustle, get over here and hand me the welding torch." A groan of indignation came from the metal cavity. "We just need to seal this off whilst the patrols come looking. Just so they don't find you and our weapons." A less annoyed groan came through. The Hound took that as a sign of consent, and began to weld the joint shut.

--------------------------------------------------

The queue into San Christina had only grown, but the convoy had moved. Now night was approaching. The actual patrol team were in sight now, inspecting the truck in front of the mercenaries. Hound surveyed them with caution. Four Sisters, one toting a flamer, and the rest with bolters. Their power armour, smaller than an Astartes', but no less intimidating, glinted a silver hue in the dying light. Red commlink lights flashed as they relayed the inventory of the vehicle and passed it on into the city. As they waved it in, the Hound caught a glimpse of the badge of their order, a silver crescent moon, on a black field. The Order of the Silver Night. A woman in robes accompanied the four Sororitas, dataslate in hand, and she moved with the patrol as they approached the merc's vehicle. Wires yanked down the window of the vehicle, and flashed a grin at the squad.
"What can I do for you, miss?"
The voice of the leader, a hard, forceful voice, echoed through the window into the rearward passenger bay. "That's Sister Superior, citizen. Now, give us the inventory of your vehicle, identification, and any passengers aboard and their identification."
"Not even a please? A pretty please? Oh, okay, fine - three sacks of grain, weighing four gult each, a map, portable vox caster, parchment and ink, roughly two hundred Thrones, and two passengers. Oh, and our employment papers." He handed over the sheaf of papers in his pocket.

Hound caught his breath. They were fake passes, of course. His own name was too easy to find, and using aliases worked just as well. Kassani had arranged them, as he did. His connections to higher Imperial commanders and officials had made these ID passes essentially child's play. 'Harn Gerrkson', 'Bolli Sillers' and 'Kane Weitz', the three occupants of the vehicle were just hired hands come to drop off grain at some made up pub in the city. As Kassani said, child's p-
"Where?" The Sister's voice brought the Hound from his reverie. "There's no drinking house in San Christina called the Bull's Head."
He felt his insides vice up, and resisted the urge to curse profusely. Bastard Kassani, making his damned assumptions. The Hound sighed and stuck his head into the driver's cockpit, as Wires ummed and ahhed in panicked confusion.

"What 'ppears t'be t'problem?" He did what he could to mask his accent. "What're they sayin'?"
"And you are?" The Sister Superior was unfazed by the new occupant in the vehicle.
"Harn Gerrkson, at'chure service," he blathered. "Now, what's this'bout no Bull's Head?"
"It doesn't exist. There's no Bull's Head in San Christina. Perhaps you should turn this vehicle around."
"Nay, lemme see t'papers!" The mercenary grabbed them from Wires, and pretended to study them as he racked his brain for an idea. "Ah, yeah, I see what'chu mean. We're after the one on t'forty-second street, if that rings any bell for'yeh?"
There was a slight pause. "Forty second street?" He nodded. The Sororitas glanced at the scribe in robes, padding at her dataslate. A mutter of jargon later, the Sister Superior returned to face Wires and Hound.
"There is a drinking house on Ophelie Boulevard, the forty second street in the civilian quarter, called 'The Sacred Arms of the Ox'. Is that your destination?" Before Wires could say yes, Hound interrupted.
"We don't know what't's called, but't's appreciated your help, cheers." Satisfied, the patrol leader began to move off.
Wires opened his mouth again. "If you're free, how about you join me there late-". The sound of the Sororitas' palm slapping Wires' face silenced the driver. He rubbed his bruised face, dazed and irritated. "I'll wear that as a mark of honour from you, Sis-" A second slap, as she battered his face again. Stunned, he slumped over in his seat, cradling his spinning head. The Sororitas snorted in contempt.
"In that case, take two. Search the vehicle."
As the Sisters pulled open the back of the vehicle, Hound pulled Wires from the driver's seat, gave the mercenary a rap round the ear, and clambered into the seat himself. He sat back, and yawned. The worst was behind them.

--------------------------------------------------

His prediction was absolutely right. The Sisters didn't question the vehicle, and they were admitted just fine inside. After dumping their cargo near the 'Sacred Arms', they cracked Vulture from her container. Of course, Hustle seemed more happy to see his needle rifle than his teammate.
"So, what's the verdict?" Vulture asked Hound. He relayed what he'd gathered from his study of the city's layout.

"The place is a police state, as I suspected. Regular patrols of Sisters, sweep the areas closest to the central Cathedral Primus, and the dock entrances. No Arbites presence is needed when you have your own forces. There's no Administratum building or Sector Imperialis, so I'd guess that the power and communications are all in that main cathedral complex in the centre of the city, which is exclusive for the Order of the Silver Night and the local Priesthood. Of course, our permits of entry are as civilians. There's no way we can enter the cathedral legally, and short of starting a firefight with the Sisterhood."
"So, we try illegally and covertly?"
"Perhaps. Patience, friend. I need to relay this back to Sunstrike. If either method of communication outside is monitored, we shall see soon enough."

Emerging from the back of the truck, the Hound made his way down the street, towards the curtain wall by the sea. The fishermen were retiring, the last of them scattered on the piers recovering their tackle and nets. They wouldn't pay attention to him. As he sauntered up the steps to the gate outside, a hand on his shoulder caught him. He spun round, ready for a fight, and quickly backed down. Four helmed Sisters of Battle, toting bolters and flamers, stared him down.
"The docks are closing. The curfew is soon to come. Explain yourself or return to the civilian district."
His accent forgotten, he thumbed his pockets and tried to think of an excuse.
"Ah, apologies, Sister, but I left my fishing satchel on the-"
"Recite the third verse of the Parable of the Fisherman."
"I'm sorry?"
"Parable of the Fisherman, third verse, from the Lectitio Divinitatus. It is known amongst the fishers of the city. Recite it, or come with us."
The Hound shut his eyes. It had been too long since he last read the Lectitio, let alone the Parable of the Fisherman. Desperately, he tried to remember back when he was a lad, back on-
"'And so the in the glory of the Emperor, as His hands emerged from that water, there was but one fish in his palm. But as they began to protest, He silenced the masses, and began to break the fish with His divine power. The people flocked to Him, and as the last one reached up to Him, there was still fish, for He will always provide for His people, if they accept what is given to them by His Will.'" He opened his eyes. His heart beat hard under his overalls. The Sisters resumed their cold stare.
"Satisfactory. You have six minutes to recover your possessions."

The Hound thanked them, and ran out onto the pier. From his pocket, he drew a small clear orb, containing a Tiller-encoded tracking beacon, and a sheaf of micro-thin parchment. Inscribed on it, in Tiller cipher, was his report. After the report, an instruction lay for the recipient.
'If you receive this, fire a flare east of the city any night at 00:13, and we will come for you.'
Satisfied with his report, he hurled the orb out into the black seawater, letting it wash out with the inky black waves. In his other hand, he pulled out a dataslate. It contained the same report, encoded in Tiller cipher, and concluded with a similar message - 'If you receive this, fire a flare west of the city any night at 00:13, and we will come for you.'

Hound checked all the data over again, and pressed the send button. His job done, he ran back into San Christina, and joined the rest of his men.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2017/04/07 19:03:58


Post by: Tactical_Spam


A bare hand grabbed Sylus' gorget and forced him into a ferrocrete wall inside the Warpath Furnace. His attacker was Judge Hetarr. He pointed a finger at Sylus.

"What do you have against me old man?" Hetarr said, his voice a low growl. Any guards patrolling the halls would surely subdue him and force him back into his solitary meditation. He bared his teeth as Sylus removed Hetarr's hand from his gorget.

"Your temper hasn't improved I see," Sylus replied stroking his beard and continuing his journey down the hallway. Hetarr followed at his heels so closely that Sylus could hear his breathing. Sylus looked down at a dataslate as they walked. Hetarr hurried his pace so he could talk to Sylus in the face.

"Your eyes haven't improved either, High Judge. We are sitting on our hands," Hetarr pointed out the bulkhead at Crion and its massive moons. The destruction caused by the Gargant was visible from space. Sylus glanced up for a moment to acknowledge the hot-headed Judge before looking back down, "While our brother spill their own blood for that planet, we sit in our flotilla meditating."

Sylus stopped reading and turned to face the Judge. They exchanged looks before Sylus started, "Everything is going according to plan-"

"Who are you? That is exactly what Ryus would say and look at where that got us! Maybe I should report your behavior to Greijer," Hetarr said, hoping there was a patrol nearby now. Sylus put an armored finger on Hetarr's chest.

"I will kill you if you do, Hetarr. I am nothing like Ryus."

"Yes, you are..."

Both Astartes turned to face the eavesdropper. At the end of the hallway stood the humble form of Annala. Hetarr broke into a earnest laugh. Furiously, Sylus dashed the dataslate across the floor. He grabbed Hetarr by the throat. The Judge couldn't keep his face straight as his Chapter Master reprimanded him, "You find that funny, Hetarr? Does a one-way ticket back to Kattifrakk sound funny to you?". Sylus looked over to the Angel, the bright light of Crion's star reflecting off her tattoos, "As for you, I should blow you out an airlock for your insubordination. I will bring this matter to the Council so they can decide your fate."

Sylus dropped Hetarr and stormed down the hallway. When he rounded the corner, Annala ran to Hetarr, who was still laughing at the whole ordeal. She reached for him as a mother would for a child.

"Easy girl. I am Astartes, not a boy with a skinned knee," Hetarr said, rising to his feet.

"I've never seen him act so... harshly..."

"He's hiding something. All the other Judge's know it."

"Ryus is somewhere on Crion..."

Hetarr faced the Angel to look for deceit, but found none. He started for the armory with the Angel. He spoke as he walked, "How did you learn of this?"

"The High Judge got defensive when I questioned him about it upon our arrival in the system... An encrypted message from one Inquisitor Randall confirmed my suspicion... One of the Grey Knights with him encountered an Astartes bearing the old New Order insignia... His intel states that he is called the 'Twiceborn'..."

"Then I know where to start. Get me two squads from the Second Company and tell them to meet me in Hangar Two in 30 minutes exactly. If they question you, give them the phrase 'Kingslayer'."

Annala nodded and hurried towards the barracks as if her life depended on it. Hetarr reckoned that it did. He sighed in front of the armory door, "Vengeance comes to the Traitor at last."


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2017/04/09 19:58:48


Post by: Sgt_Smudge


"Sub-Commander Vandred. It's good to see you."

Shas'O Skyhunter greeted the human auxiliary, open armed. Vandred smiled, weary, and bowed his head in deference to the commander of the cadre. Even bound in his Crisis Suit, Skyhunter seemed youthful as ever, tempered by age like a tree trunk, yet still hale and hearty.
The Tau had seemed immortal to the young Vandred. Since he was picked from the creche of human children on Tach'var and conscripted into Sunstrike Cadre as a lowly Gue'vesa'la, Skyhunter was always there by Vandred's side. When Vandred grew his first facial hairs, Skyhunter was there to touch the alien bristle and laugh as it spread across the dark-skinned face of his mentee. When Skyhunter was promoted up to the rank of Shas'El, his first request for a bodyguard was Vandred. Despite the best efforts of the engineers, or as Skyhunter suspected, the deliberate meddlings of the Ethereal caste, there was no Crisis Suits for humans like Vandred. Instead, Vandred was promoted to Skyhunter's de-facto right hand man, and was elevated to the same status when Skyhunter ascended to the head of Sunstrike Cadre, a rarity amongst human auxiliaries. A fact Skyhunter didn't remind Vandred of, but the human knew too well.

"The feeling is mutual, commander."
Skyhunter returned to surveying the holographic map of Crion. Vandred joined him, and proceeded to muse aloud on the developing situation. He knew his commander has already scanned the map repeatedly, but a new insight, from Vandred's Gue'vesa head, was always welcomed.

"Krius is aflame." stated Vandred. "New Pavus is held by the Tillers, with most Imperial forces weakened and overstretched from the fighting. Torcan is faltering. Nortannis is under surveillance by allied forc-"
"Are they?" Skyhunter interrupted.
"Are they what? Allies?" The commander nodded. "Not allies quite, but allied in goal. I doubt they wish to see Horatio Payne on the throne, but they do despise the Imperium. Any advantage we get, they get, and vice versa."
"Allies of convenience, wouldn't you say, Vandred?"
The sub-commander agreed, and continued the analysis.

"Nortannis under surveillance, which leaves here vulnerable." He pointed at a fortress along Krius' east coast. "I think we require more naval power if we wish to take this."
"You think?"
"What would you suggest, commander?"
"I would strike fast, take it soon and use it as a buffer of our own. Of course, your approach is safer, which I recognise and applaud."
"My thanks, commander. We are a limited cadre, and we must ensure our own safety in war."
Skyhunter laughed. "True. Yet we play a dangerous game, Sub-Commander. Our shadow war against the Imperium is akin to the Sleeping Krootox and the Hunter. 'The Hunter may be able to evade the misguided swings of the enraged Krootox, but one wrong foot will make the Hunter the Hunted.' We must be daring, and cripple the Krootox, lest they cripple us first."

The map swung back to Naraya. Completely Imperial dominated, save for the few Tiller icons on the southern coast. "Black Water Bastion is inviolate. Close enough that we may make a rapid response from our gunships, and rigged to detonate should we lose it. Of course, we can still claim it as rightful conquest: we make out that the Tiller took it, and we drove the Tillers out. Therefore, ours by occupation, and diplomatically immune."
"Smart plan."
"Quite. Our mercenaries have reported back from San Christina. It will be harder to take, but it was away from our main priorities anyway."

Cambria came into view now. Vandred began as he had before. "This is practically all ours. We control the southern province, and our Be'gel allies have all but conquered the rest of the continent. Waaagh! Hannibal now holds dominion over the other defeated warbands, and with this we-"
"Correction - held."
"I'm sorry?"
"We lost contact with Hannibal. Scouting reports show no sign of him and his men. They're just not there."
Confused, Vandred stuttered, not quite sure how to respond. He broke his control of the briefing and turned to Skyhunter for guidance, suddenly a Gue'vesa'la all over again.
"What do we do?"

Skyhunter laughed, giving his protege a warm look. "I have already given the order for drone units to seed their lost regions, and for us to build listening posts throughout their territory. As their allies, we hold rightful claim to it, and I'll be damned if we let it all go. If the Imperials enter the land, we have pict-sensors and auto-transmissions on the drones to warn them of their transgression. We still have our diplomatic immunity. The Imperium cannot move into our land without our permission, and if they do so, violate their own treaty which we have evidence of them making."

"Of course, Shas'O." Vandred bowed his head to his superior. Skyhunter didn't react, but pointed to the city on the west coast. Ros Hannoi lit up, with the sigil of Sunstrike placed next to it. The infiltrators within the city were still active.

"Our infiltrators? What would you have them do?"
"You said yourself - we don't want to cause more damage than we have to. We may be living on this world, Vandred. I, for one, don't want to spend the rest of my life rebuilding one from the ashes. Do you?"
"Of course not." Vandred considered his approach to taking Ros Hannoi, casting his gaze over the wilderness around the city. "The Mayor of Ros Hannoi, Maldonado, has kept the two sides of the city in relative peace from the Ork threat without," the Sub-Commander began. "but what if that threat were removed? Would that sway his allegiance?"
"Is that a risk, Sub-Commander?" Skyhunter smirked. Without looking, Vandred could tell. It always went to the right side of the old Tau's face.

"Maybe just, Commander. Maybe."


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2017/04/14 17:08:48


Post by: Irishpeacockz


As the last of the surviving Tillers emerged from the man hole into scooching sun light they found that the surrounding city block was totally silent, the street was only occupied by a sniffing dog who made little note of the emerging sewer men. Lieutenant Mills seem disturbed.

“This is odd, its not normally this quiet.” Spoke the lieutenant.

“Perhaps it is the Soroitas doing.” Answered Mason.

Mills had a face of introspection.
“Perhaps, come on we should get out of the streets and stash these weapons. Don’t want PDF, Arbites, or Sisters chasing after us. There’s a Tiller Safe House near by, there should be someone there who can give us the low down of what’s been happening since I’ve been away.”

The Party hustled over to Tiller safe house, the population of Nortannis began to reveal its self the deeper the ventured into the city. These slum dwellers were not alarmed in the slightest by the sight of armed men as many gangers, rebels and outlaws had raged turf war in this part of the city. For the most part they were to drunk or hungry to care what they did. Finally, they reached the Tiller store house in a massive apartment complex.

Mills knocked at the door and waited for the door man to ask for the password. But after several knocks no door man would come. Mills produced a key from his pocket and unlocked the large reinforced door.

The Tillers raised their rifles as the door opened. Mills was the first one in. The Lieutenant called out.

“Ferguson, Lyle, Hendricks, any of you in here.”

Lyn called out.

“Don’t shoot we’re friendly.”

A full sweep of the safe house was conducted and not a human was found. Mills went to the armory and found it barren, all the auto guns and las weapons they had been stockpiling here gone. Mason checked the pantry and found it stocked with a generous provisions of beans and ramen. Mason licked his cracked lips and took a knife to a can of beans. Lyn scoured the ops center, by the date of the last entries she suspected that this place had not seen use in months. Lyn searched for some lead as toward what might have happened here.

The party reconvened in the safe house’s living room. Lyn slung her rifle over her shoulder and spoke.

“Where the hell are your men it looks like they haven’t been here in ages.”

Mills looked around the room hoping one of his comrades would magically appear.

“I don’t know.”

One of the Tillers spoke turning the safety back on his rifle.

“You think this is the PDF or Sisters doing?”

Mills shook his head.

“I don’t think so; no signs of battle and my men wouldn’t have gone down without a fight.”

Mason spoke as he set aside a half eaten can of beans.

“Could be deserters, makes sense they could have cleared the armory hoping to sell it.”

Mills shook his head.

“No I knew the men posted here, they would have given their life for the cause they wouldn’t cut and run no matter how bad it got.”

Lyn looked around the silent apartment and a moment passed without words.

“So know what.”

Mills removed his cap and ran his finger through his short hair.

“We have a few more safe houses through out the city, we will find somebody in one of those houses that knows what the hell is going on.”

One of the tillers brought voice to the rooms concern.

“What if we don’t find anybody there either.”

Mills pretended not to hear the comment.

“Everybody get some rest, help yourself to whatever food we have in the kitchen and the shower. We move out come morning.”

Day break came too soon in Mason’s mind, he awoke to find Lyn already dressed in a missing Tiller’s fatigues, she wasted no time accepting Mill’s offer of a shower eager to get rid of the sewer’s stink. The Tillers deposited their rifles in to the armory so that they might not draw any unwanted attention on themselves as they move through the city. Mills locked the armory being sure to change the password paranoid of them going missing.
The party visited six safe houses before noon, and their poor luck remained true as each safe house seemed more unoccupied than the last. The scenes were all virtually identical abandoned by its care takers, armory cleared, but all other valuable left in tact. When noon finally came, the Tillers approached the seventh safe house they expecting nothing new.

Yet another abandon apartment complex was host to the next Tiller safe house. Lieutenant Mills opened the apartment door and was greeted by the crack of an auto gun. The semi automatic burst narrowly missed the Tiller Lieutenant and sent him and the party scrambling for cover. Three more bursts of fire came at the hunkered down Tillers and a voice shouted from atop the complex’s stairs.

“You won’t take me alive you hear me you fething bastards I won’t let you.”

Mason fired at the top of the stairs with his pistol but was forced back down when another burst of bullets made contact with his improvised cover.

Mills eyes widened as he recognized the voice shouted.

“Mac, is that you, its Spencer.”

This Mac fired several more bursts at the lieutenant as he roared over the cracks of his rifle.

“I won’t fall for your tricks.”

Mac fired several more bursts before his rifle clicked dry, the man proclaimed feth.

Mason raised his pistol to shoot again but Mills caught it.

“We need him alive.”

The Tillers began charging into the apartment complex running up the stairs mac cursed and threw his depleted rifle at the Tillers hitting one of them and causing him to stumble down the steps. They ran after Mac as he rushed up the stairwell, eventually Mac reached a corridor and took cover behind a wall. He picked up a double barrel shotgun he had stashed and fired two shots at the approaching Tillers causing them to duck back into cover. Mac used this opprtuinty to flee down the hall.

Mills shouted “Emperor damn it Mac we’re trying to help you!”

Mac ran down the hall and produced yet another Auto gun and began spraying wildly down the hallway in the general direction of the Tillers. Again Mac ran out of ammo and began fleeing but now the Tillers closing the gap. Mac charged through the doors that led to the apartment’s roof with such force that he almost stumbled off the ledge. Mac looked to the ground below and then back to the door as the Tillers caught up with him.

Mac produced a revolver from his belt and pointed it at the gathered Tillers. Mac switched targets as more of the party arrived at the roof. Mac shook his head and murmured.

“I won’t let you, I can’t.”

Mills spoke

“Put the gun down Mac we’re not going to hurt you.”

Mac took a step back and again nearly fell off the edge. Mac quickly glanced down and then back at the Tillers.

“I won’t let you take me.”

Mac placed the revolver against his temple and pulled back on the hammer. The sharp crack of a pistol echoed through out the abandoned complex.

Mac recoiled in pain as Lyn’s bullet made contact with the revolver. Mason tackled Mac as soon as he saw the gun go flying. Mac growled and demanded that he be let go. Eventually the deranged man bit Mason’s finger.

“Little bastard bit me!”

Lieutenant Mills whipped Mac with the handle of his pistol and the Tiller was knocked unconscious.

Mils shook his head at the mess.

“Come on, we got to take him to the safe house, this amount of fire is sure to draw out the Arbites.”

Mac awoke with a throbbing head ache and found his hands and legs bound to a chair. Panic overtook the Tiller and he fought against the restraints. The ruckus Mac made drew Mason’s attention. The cultist announced to the room.

“He’s awake.”

Lieutenant Mills hurried in from the neighboring room Lyn following soon after.

Mac looked up at the lieutenant and quit fighting his restraints. Mac snarled.

“You wear the faces of dead men now; I will not fall for your tricks.”

Mills spoke patiently.

“Mac, you need to tell me what the hell is going on here, where is everybody.”

Mac shook his head.

“You took all the others, I won’t serve, you can’t make me.”

Lyn stepped forward.

“Mac, my name is Lyn Adaso, my father is the general Tyler Adaso, we have been sent here to see why your cell has gone dark. We need you to tell us what happened here.”

Mac took a moment to process what he was being told and looked back at Mills.

“How did you survive, the sisters butchered your entire squad.”

Tyler spoke.

“I almost didn’t, just got lucky I guess.”

Mac laughed appearing to ease somewhat.

“You always were lucky.”

Lyn spoke refocusing Mac.

“Please Mac can you tell us what’s been happening in the city.”

Mac looked down at his boots and spoke looking back up at Lyn.

“It it easier to just show you.”

Mac looked at his bindings hinting at Mason. Mason sighed as he unsheathed his knife.

“I swear if you bite me again I’ll feed you your own teeth.”

The party followed Mac in silence as he led them to yet another safe house. They followed Mac as he descended down an unlit stairwell into the black heart of the complex’s boiler room. This abyss was lit only by the wicked red glow of the complex’s furnace, sitting in the corner like a a grim god. The stench of corpses overpowered some of the Tillers as Mac began lighting lanterns illuminating several blanket covered corpses. Mac began speaking as he lit the final lantern.

“Its hard to say when exactly this all began, but we started noticing maybe seven months ago right before the city went into quarantine. Some of our men just went missing, we just assumed that either the PDF caught them or they went AWOL, but then more of us started to disappear in greater numbers and with higher frequency. It got so bad that even Captain Anderson went missing. We were panicking with both you and the Captain gone we were leaderless and we didn’t know who would disappear next, not to mention those damn sisters cutting us off from Drake’s Liberty.”

Mason spoke eyes still locked on the unexplained corpses.

“What happened next.”

“They returned. Captain Anderson along with a bunch of the other men who went missing just showed back up at headquarters. The Captain said he had received orders from Horatio himself and that he truly could not speak of it but assured us that everything was well. He then ordered us back to our normal duties of guarding our safe houses and smuggling operations. But something didn’t add up Anderson was behaving weird, not acting himself. Me and some of the others didn’t buy it we knew something was up, those who came back were different, I could see it in their eyes. Soon enough men went missing again and the Captain was nowhere to be found. That was when they started hunting us and that’s when I realized just how deep this goes.”

Mac began removing the covers from the corpses

“This man was part of our cause, this woman was PDF, this man was an Arbite, this man was a baker.”

Mason spoke not understanding the significance.

“I don’t understand how this is related, the PDF and Arbites are always trying to kill us, how does this relate to the disappearances.”

Mac began rolling up the right sleeves on the corpses revealing the black ink dragons of the ouroboros. Mason looked at the tattoos with shock as Mac spoke.

“I don’t know who these people are but they’ve captured or killed every other Tiller in the city, as far as I know we are all that are left.”

Lyn shook her head with a mixture of horror and utter confusion.

“What in the Emperor’s name is going on here.”

Spoiler:
Piece written by Chazz in Nortannis


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2017/04/14 18:48:44


Post by: Sgt_Smudge


Amongst all the war over Crion's surface, Gue'vesa'ui Harland was fighting a personal one of his own.
He'd sent a message to the Lord Mayor of Ros Hannoi, Xavier Maldonado, proposing a meeting. Purely innocent, and with no malice intended. Diplomatic. It was what Skyhunter had ordered: a peaceful alliance of Ros Hannoi into the Tiller Coalition. Of course, Harland knew what the Tau meant by peaceful alliance. Usually, integration, subversion, and finally occupation. Skyhunter might not be an ally of the Tau Empire, but their methods of success were still similar.
At least he wasn't getting shot at right away.

The Pathfinder was loathe to discover Maldonado's reply. A refusal to meet in person, and to instead meet at a designated spot in the jungle outside of Ros Hannoi. That meant leaving the Tau hideaway in the middle of the city, and out into the open. Nevertheless, the Pathfinder did his duty. He was a Pathfinder leader, and he'd be an example to the Gue'vesa he had left behind in Ros Hannoi, as a precaution. He was about to send another 'all clear' datapacket to his comrades, but something caught his attention in the brush. Machete blades, hacking through the foliage. Three of them.
'Of course,' Harland though. 'Three on one. Just to make it fair, eh?' There was no Mayor amongst them. Briefly, Harland was afraid, until he noticed the holographic projector and massive powerpack for it dragged alongside on a cart. He grinned. For all their strength, the Imperials certainly were cumbersome. He considered leaving them waiting for him, just to slight the Imperials who were too afraid to come and do their own bidding. With a resigned sigh, he shook off the thought, and emerged into the glade.

"Took your time."
"Not easy lugging this great gakking thing out," one of the men wheezed, machete stained with brown sap and green fluid. "not that you offered any help."
Harland shrugged. "Not my fault your Lord Mayor decided to have this meeting out here."
"Not even sure why he's entertaining your offer anyways."
"You can let him know I'm grateful he deigned to hear us."
"You can tell him yourself."
The holographic projector flickered to light, and Lord Mayor Maldonado was standing in front of Harland. The Gue'vesa removed his hood out of deference. The mayor nodded his own greeting. The three men stood back and let the two talk.

"My thanks for accepting this offer of an arrangement, Lord Mayor," Harland began. "I must admit, I didn't think you humble enough to accept it."
A lie. Harland knew the situation in Ros Hannoi was dire. Fear of the orks of Cambria and the folk curse that Lord Governor Anton Payne's death had brought was enough to force the city into reclusion. Even the Tillers in the city and the Imperials on the walls were united in the face of the Ork raids that periodically battered the last city on Cambria.
Of course, that was where the genius of the whole plan lay.

Since Sunstrike Cadre's solid alliance with Waaagh! Hannibal, and the resounding military success of the two armies working in tandem, the Big Mek's warband had swept almost completely through all of Cambria; subjugating, welcoming or exterminating all of the established warbands plaguing the jungles. Warbosses Nogrod, Nerozz, Boss SkullEater, even KoreGog, beyond even the reach of Hannibal, had all fallen, leaving only Waaagh! Hannibal in their place. With Hannibal's absence from the jungles, Sunstrike had moved in to claim the empty jungles themselves, unbeknownst to the Imperials. Still hiding behind their walls, they believed an attack was imminent. Harland could give them an offer they simply couldn't refuse.

Maldonado returned the greeting. "I received your message, and I would be lying if I said I wasn't interested by what you might be able to offer me. I know the Tillers in my city. They have nothing to offer. You are different."

"Yes," Harland said. "but is this line monitored?"
Maldonado shook his head. "No. If the Lord Governor was aware I was meeting with the Tillers in peace talks, my head would be on a pike. These men are loyal to me. This conversation is between us."
"Good," the Gue'vesa spoke. "in which case, I can tell you that I am an officer of Sunstrike Cadre, allied to the Tiller cause and rebels of the Tau Empire."
Maldonado flinched as he realised the depth of this knowledge, but quickly suppressed it. "Tau? Here on Crion? I heard the reports, but I didn't suspect it was..."
"So close? Don't worry, Lord Mayor. We offer you no harm."
The Mayor nodded. "I trust that you'll understand why I wanted this meeting away from my personage? I heard what happened to a good friend of mine. Rodrick Payne. Killed in his own building by a kill squad of Tillers. You'll understand why security is tight."
"Yes, sir. I do. If it is any consolation to you though, we do come in peace. In fact, my offer is of mutual benefit."
"Explain?"

Harland recited the terms of the offer he had memorized.
"To our understanding, your city is under threat of Orks in the surrounding forest regions. Your forces are stretched thin, your watches long and tiring. You fear an attack, yes?" Maldonado nodded. "My commanders, both Tiller and Tau, have their eyes on your city, for it's location. We do not wish to sack your city, for your sake and for it's people. For Crion to rebuild, we must not burn and raze it to the ground. We must work together to build a better Crion."
"And what about New Pavus? What happened to not sacking that?"
Harland sighed from the interruption. "New Pavus was given the offer. They refused. You, on the other hand, have shown remarkable tolerance of the Tillers within your city. You have shown hope that an agreement can be made."
"What kind of agreement?"
"Simple," Harland held out his arms. "You allow the Tillers access and refuge in Ros Hannoi, and we can ensure that your will not need to worry about Ork attacks."

There was the dealbreaker. Maldonado was stunned, his eyes opened wide. Even the men around the projector were shocked.
"Impossible!" said Maldonado. "There's no possible way you can-"
"Have you been attacked lately?" Harland smirked. "My cadre has been repelling the Orks from your city to demonstrate this point." A lie, but Maldonado bought it.
"In exchange for what?"
"Just alliance or support of the Tiller cause. Our freedom to move men and munitions into your city. We will not impede on your rule. You will remain Lord Mayor of Ros Hannoi, even after Crion is ruled by Horatio, stars be willing."
Maldonado rubbed a hand over his sweaty forehead. "And if I don't accept your offer?"
Harland shrugged. "Nothing. You lose nothing. My cadre pulls out from defensive actions, and the Orks go back to what they were doing."

The biggest gamble, Skyhunter had said, would be making Maldonado believe that the Tau were fending off the imaginary hordes in the jungles. If he didn't believe that he was at threat, they wouldn't take the bait, and the agreement would be for nothing. And much as Harland said there would be no intervention from Sunstrike, that would also be a lie. Ros Hannoi needed to be taken. If not in one piece, then several smouldering ones.
There wasn't a need for it. Maldonado's expression showed all.

"Your offer is... unprecedented," Maldonado spoke. "Not even the late Lord Governor was able to hold the Orks off: Anton Payne was killed trying to. The current Governor, Tobias, doesn't have his father's or brothers' urgency, and Roderick, the most capable heir and a good friend, is no longer here to inherit his uncle's place. I have not doubted Tobias' bastard's skills in warfare or determination, but I was not convinced of his ability to actually defend the people he cares so deeply about. You give me hope for his cause."
"What say you, Lord Mayor?" Harland gently pushed the man for an answer.
With a sigh, Maldonado smiled.

"I have made my decision. In exchange for your protection of my city, my gates are open to the Tillers. However, I must make some conditions, to ensure the smoothness of this alliance. Firstly, I cannot pledge any of my own troops or aid into the war effort of the Tillers. I wish no part of the warfare. I have lost enough men over the years to the greenskins at my gates, and I cannot risk losing more."
Harland nodded, and agreed. Maldonado continued with his requests.
"Next, I request that, whilst I support the movement of men and materials into my city, I cannot allow Ros Hannoi to be used as a base of attack on another Crionian city or force. Should the Imperials attack the city on their own accord, so be it, but I will not invite more wanton destruction to my city. This is a city, not a fortress."
Harland gritted his teeth, but agreed. Ros Hannoi needed to be taken, and without blood was better than stained in it. Maldonado offered his third request.
"Seeing as the defence of my city is so largely aided by your army, my offer extends to the human warriors of your Cadre. Unfortunately, I cannot offer the same safe harbour to the xenos in Sunstrike Cadre. My citizens are not as accommodating as I am, and at the current stage, will not be welcome in the city limits. Your and your fellow men are permitted, but your Tau brethren will not. Is this acceptable?"
With resentment, Harland replied.
"I accept the terms of this agreement."

Maldonado laughed briefly, and sank into a chair. "Very good! On behalf of Ros Hannoi and all the people within it, I offer you thanks for offering protection, and we shall do our part in aiding the Tiller cause. When will I be expecting a visit?"
"WIthin the week, I expect. Troops under command of Captain Nassau will be delivering aid to your city, as part of the integration effort. I thank you for accepting this offer, on behalf of the Tillers and Sunstrike Cadre."
Before the hologram could flicker out, Maldonado stopped the men turning off the relay, and spoke to Harland.

"I have a personal matter I might ask you to answer for me?"
Harland, confused, answered. "Yes? What is it?"
"Rodrick Payne was my friend. He died in New Pavus, where I hear there were reports of some Tau involvement. Did your Cadre have any involvement in his death?"

Harland paused, deciding what to say. Whilst the Gue'vesa wasn't present at the battle of New Pavus, or the assassination mission that had been undertook, he did know that Sunstrike Cadre had a direct involvement. A Gue'vesa kill team, led by Sub-Commander Vandred, the highest ranking human in the cadre, had been part of that mission. The specifics, Harland didn't know, but he had a suspicion that Vandred may have made the killing blow. He knew better than to share the full details with Maldonado, regardless of their alliance. He could chalk it up to simple ignorance if that was the case.
"I know that some members of my Cadre were deployed in New Pavus, yes," explained Harland. "But I don't know what happened in the city. I wasn't deployed there myself. There's a chance we may have been in that kill squad, but I don't know for certain. I apologise for your loss, Lord Mayor."

Maldonado sighed. "We are at war. Death comes quicker, and death comes to all eventually. It matters not who killed him."
Harland offered a few words of his own. They felt true to him. "I'm sure Rodrick was a good man and promising leader. It was a shame he wasn't with us. He would have been a good commander. It is unfortunate that he passed."
"C'est la guerre." Maldonado uttered a foreign phrase. Harland looked back, confused. The mayor explained, before the hologram flickered to nothingness.
"That's war."

As the three soldiers hacked their way back to Ros Hannoi, Gue'vesa'ui Harland was left standing in the jungle clearing. Before setting off back to the rendezvous point for his cadre, he nudged at a small anthill by his feet. The ants swarmed around, and Harland stood back as they rooted around for attackers, then slowly trickled back into their nest their efforts in vain.
"C'est la guerre."


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2017/04/23 16:15:22


Post by: Irishpeacockz


Spoiler:
All the action takes place in Arcannus on Crion.

Got a job unexpectedly and I have exams coming up so I might not get much writing done and while I have one more piece I was gonna stick on the end of this I said I might aswell post this while I have the chance.

Enjoy !


The Swamp had endured.

Garathal embraced the carnage as his sat atop one of the largest towers, his battered fortress, his smoking ruin. Blood mixed in with the murky puddles and lakes that littered the landscape. Corpses decorated the bogs, food for the stalking crocodiles thought Garathal, or an army. Smoke and fire was in the air but as the wind changed the unmistakable scent of rot and decay reigned triumph and true, Garathal cracked a smile, home. The Cathedral of Blight had withstood the Imperial assault, the walls were battered but they held, the doors were splintered but whole, his bastion of death and decay still stood in defiance crested atop the corpse ridden hill. An unmistakable clanking sound forced Garathal around, Baezael hobbled out with a mob of cultists, now upgraded with Imperial arms and armor.

“A glorious victory for you my lord !” bowed the shaman

“Impressive, I expected you to be nought but ashes” admitted Garathal with a sudden upturn in his tone, the prophet was pleased with what he found.

“We didn’t do it alone lord, a marine and his followers flanked our foe and turned the tide of battle, even going as far as to go toe to toe with a grey knight no less”

“Our meeting we brief, I shall seek him out” Garathal took one last look at the battlefield

“Gathered these corpses, before the predators begin nimble on them and meet me in the cathedral afterwards”

Bazael began to bow again but Garathal was already gone, quickly followed by his seven hulking Apostles.

The keep was filled was cheers and roars as Nurgle’s finest cracked open a barrel of rotgut booze, the Imperial Aquila printed on the barrel betrayed it’s source.

Garathal entered to a myriad of noise as the disciples raised a toast to the Plaguefather and his servants. Normally he would insist they they immediately begin working on the walls and doors in preparation for the inevitable counter attack, but he was in one of his better moods and let them celebrate. He climbed the steps to the Cathedral to find Zehk admiring the scripture on the walls

“Looking to convert?” teased Garathal as he entered his sanctum

Zekh did not face the maggot ridden sorcerer immediately.

“I'll pass. I like my armour in good condition and my guts where they belong”, Zehk said, turning around.

“Shame, I could make you into such a beautiful host of diseases you could not even fathom, oh well you are the one missing out,” Garathal smirked and approached the unremarkable marine, “So it turns out that I need your help again, Twiceborn, something that I would like to inquire about later but business first, time is a luxury ectera ectera."

“And?” said Zehk bluntly.

“I want you to tell me how you fit in my grand scheme of things, you being here is quite surprising and I don't appreciate surprises”

“I am caught in another spiders web Nurglite” spat Zehk “But if you lead me to bloodshed than I shall follow, for a time”

“Then i’m your huckleberry” nodded Garathal who turned to leave “We leave at dawn”

Bazael shuffled up the grueling steps to the defiant Cathedral to find his master leering at him

“Ah master I was just on m-”

“Listen carefully you matted goat, this cathedral shall not withstand a second assault”

“I assume you have a plan then ?” inquired the sorcerer to be “You do seem awfully jolly this day”

“First things first” continued Garathal “Is to raise our new guests to enlightenment, one can never have too many bodies. Next is to hastily repair the outer defenses as best we can, dig a moat around the Cathedral and gather some reeds from nearby and make sure those fools do not drink all that rotgut, it will be needed later.”

Baezael bowed “I love it when you have a plan sire”

“Always” grinned Garathal “Retreat to my study as soon as possible,I have something I want to crop up for the lovely Inquisition”


---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sun had yet to revisit Crion, leaving in basked in the Moon's domain. The moon’s light reflect off the calm waters of the sea that flowed into the crowded harbour of Nortannis where numerous ships bobbed in the water, restless. Mason checked his watch again, 03:20. The Tiller’s rose at 06:00 and he had to be back by then which gave him a two hour window to grace Nortannis with Nurgle’s treats.

The drinking water from Nortannis was delivered to the city via a purification plant nested in the harbour, filtering out the toxins and making the water consumable. Mason eyed the structure from one of the many abandoned stores that once put Nortannis on the map as one of the busiest trading centers on the continent. Two sisters from the Order of the Silver Night lawfully patrolled the perimeter,their menacing flamers by their side. Mason could spot no structural weakness in the building, bar the door that was under the watchful eye of the Sisters, a distraction was needed. A curfew had been placed on the city, although who ordered it was unclear as the rumors of Lawson Barlow losing grip of his city to the Sisters ran rampant, many fingered the Order of the Silver Night for the harsh measures placed against their now crippled city. Homeless was a common issue on Crion but more so in Nortannis since many fisherman in the city couldn’t practice their trade forcing them onto the streets. Mason eyed a handful of slumped bodies in a nearby alleyway now huddled behind a few dumpsters, seeking warmth. Mason slipped out of the store and darted across the deserted street and approached the eerie corridor of despair. Nudging the hunched up figure the man uncurled like a flower in spring

“What the feth are you doing ?” grumbled the groggy man

“Shut up and listen” snapped Mason “Tomorrow’s supply of food rations have been left unguarded in warehouse fourteen”

The man sat up, with others beginning to surround him, eagerly.

“Even if that were true, did you forget about the curfew ? feth off you stupid bastard”

“There is trouble by the gates again, the refugees being rowdy again, the two sisters nearby have been called away, this is a unique opportunity here brother from one patriot to another, take the chance and feed our people”

A man behind him spoke up “If he doesn’t i’ll do it !” cheers of agreement echoed throughout the crowd, the groans from their stomachs urging them onwards.

Mason quickly scooted to some nearby shrubbery and sat in wait, foreseeing his time to strike.

As soon as the stragglers entered the street they realised their folly, the two Sisters raised their flamers and approached the lawbreakers

“Halt citizens, disperse and go back indoors immediately the curfew is still in progress”

Mason flew from his hiding place and luckily the door to the purifier was open. Inside the purifier a cranking of a wrench alerted Mason to someone's immediate presence. Grabbing a shard of glass and a piece of cloth, Mason held his custom shiv close and crept through the plant towards the almost rhythmic sound. The man was stout and sturdy, his hair was balding and he wore greasy blue overalls with a grey t-shirt with sweat patches oozing out from underneath his arms and his back. Mason was behind him and his work masked Mason’s approach, child’s play thought Mason as he swiftly placed his hand over his chubby mouth and simultaneously jammed the piece of glass through his throat while he kneed him in the back, textbook takedown. Letting the man bleed out all over the dusty floor Mason quickly found the reservoir of water and open a leather pouch where he kept his little garden.
Having time to think and plan the order of the plants from New Pavus to Nortannis, Mason quickly ground up some herbs with a mortar and pedestal and deposited his vile substance into the water, his deed done Mason checked his watch again, 03:45. With plenty of time to spare Mason found an emergency hatch and slipped out, with the drinking water poisoned the already isolated populace of Nortannis will wither and fade away into nothingness.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dawn creeped upon the yellow landscape as Garathal summoned his host. The larvae ridden trees, the murky puddles, the pungent fumes Garathal would miss this bastion he had created for the Lord of Pestilence. Cultists freshly armed with Imperial Weaponry, Ravenous Beastmen,Bloated Plague Marines and two minotaurs was arrayed before him the the silhouetted courtyard that basked in the shadow of the Cathedral. With the reinforcements from New Pavus his numbers had swooned to acceptable numbers, The prophet stepped forwards and the muttering crowds hushed themselves until all they were heard was the buzzing of the eternal host of insects that accompanied the Disciples Of Decay.

“Joyous Children, say goodbye to this awe inspiring monument to our Grandfather for he has instructed me directly to lead this flock elsewhere so that we can serven him dutifully as is both our purpose and honour”

Cheers and cries of worship sprouted from the crowd before Garathal’s raised hand shushed them

“Gather only your essentials, we march in ten minutes, May the Plaguefather Gift you”

“May he gift us all” came the response as the crowd dispersed.

Kremus and a handful of cultist approached the Prophet after the speech

“We will hold the Cathedral my lord if Nurgle demands it”

“He does Kremus, I have no doubt that you will throw these heathens back from whence they came, remember to use all at your disposal Kremus I have put great effort into preparing the defenses”

“Absolutely Grand Prophet, fear not the Cathedral shall hold”

Garathal waved away Kremus who had overstayed his welcome and marched towards the gate to lead his flock east, back towards the lake, back towards the Black Loch, he would not be denied a second time.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2017/04/25 21:35:58


Post by: chazz huggins


All was quite in the fishing village of Rowmar save the constant squawking of red gulls. The birds flexed their crimson plumage and rested atop eastern winds occasionally lading so that they might search the village bellow for scraps of unprotected fish. The birds found unchaperoned fish carts in the market square and made free with their sea scaled treasures. The market had only the night before played host to Rowmar’s annual festival, fire works were fired and dances were danced. Lucky gulls found bites of forgotten popcorn and candies. The birds had claimed every part of this place. They rested atop childless merry polls ribbons dancing in the wind occasionally startling a bird with its sudden movement. They strutted atop the center stage each walked along the abandoned platform like they themselves were competing for the title of Rowmar’s Fairest Maiden. Birds gathered at the table base of a gramophone its invisible pianist still serenading the long gone crowds. One of the birds resting at the edged of the village watched with curious or perhaps mindless eyes as two dozen green skinned thundered towards him mounted atop roaring iron steeds.

Nox sat in DoomBlitza’s saddle engine murmuring over the calls of red sea birds. Nox dismounted his beloved contraption and the motor began grew silent as the rest of Nox’s Ladz of Anorky did the same. Nox knelt down and inspected the sand, he found a large indentation, the unmistakable mechanical foot print of a dreadnaught.

Since the death of Nox’s ally MegaFang and the destruction of his quote unquote indestructible dread mob Nox has been scouring the Zike region in search of the fabled Mad Kan. It was the theory of one of Nox’s most trusted advisor that since that slippery remnant sorcerer had such a fascination with the ancient Blood Dragon ruins that the ork entombed in the remains of an ancient Blood Dragon Dreadnaught was their best lead in finding him. Gadnuk dismounted from his truck that carried him and his Gut Rippas.

“That one’z fresh, can’t be too far now.”

Nox looked around and spoke.

“Where da zog are all da humiez. You fink da Mad Kan got em?”

Gadnuk shrugged

“Maybe, but I don’t see no signs of a scrap, you fink da Mad Kan would ave made a bigger mess.”

The Doof spoke out.

“Who cares what happened to some stupid pink skins, we got work to do.”

Nox nodded and shouted at his nobs.

“Keep yer eyes up and yer shootas ready, I got a feeling da Mad Kan I’z gonna put up a nasty fight.”

Gadnuk added to his Boss’s warning.

“Remember we want da Mad Kan alive, but itz gotz a mob of boyz that follow him around kill those gitz all you want.”

The Ladz of Anorky and Gadnuk’s own Gutrippas grinned at the prospect of killing some orks, they had gone nearly an entire day without killing something and cultists of the church of Mad Kan sound like fine sport. After the Mad Kan was exiled to the remote beaches of Zike it soon gained a bloody reputation as a brutal killing machine, many of the local clanless orks began to follow Mad Kan viewing it as the Gork’s Fury made steel.

Gadnuk began shouting orders to his Kommandos.

“Gutrippas on me.”

Nox nodded and began walking into the town the demonic DoomBlitza creeping silently behind on rubber wheels.

The town’s silence made Nox anxious. The peacefulness of this place was much to the disgust of Nox’s Ladz of Anorky. To exercise their frustration, they began knocking over street carts and stomping on gulls dumb enough to cross their path, one of the bikers was so bored that he even began unloading his Big Shoota into the window of a nearby shop for no apparent reason other than to kill some mannequins. This ruckus was in sharp contrast to the lethal silence that Gadnuk and his Kommandos operated with as they slunk quietly through the market square. After ten grueling minutes of quite the orks reached the Imperial church at the edge of town.

In front of the church steps stood two orks and a gretchen all clad in black robes, each had a cord tied around their waist and daggers clung loosely to them. One of the Orks carried a crude WAAAGH banner decorated with human skulls and scraps of ancient dreadnaught plate. It was obvious to Nox that these were the disciples of the cult of the Mad Kan. Nox gave a quick look to the Doof who shrugged unsure of these ork cultists. Nox began approaching the black clad orks and the Gretchen held out his hand and spoke.

“Dats close enough, state yer name and purpose for trespassing on da sacred stompin grounds of Da Mighty Mad Kan.”

Nox was initially surprised by the grot’s boldness, few Nobz were stupid enough to address him like that. That surprise quickly turned to anger as Nox replied.

“I am Nox Zoggin WarpRida, da big bad beast of Charadon. I’ve come ere cuz yer Mad Kan I’z gonna help me find someone.”

The Grot growled.

“And why would he help you?”

Nox grabbed the control rod from DoomBlitza’s saddle bag with the intent of using it to beat the insubordinate Gretchen into a bloody green mash but as soon as the rod was revealed the Gretchen paused and removed his hood. The Grot spoke wide eyed as the two larger orks removed their hoods in disbelief.

One of the ork boyz began speaking.

“Da Stikk of Ending, dats it, just like da prophecy.”

Gadnuk rolled his eyes.

“Great another zogging prophecy. Too many Gork damn prophecies between da Doof and now deez Gitz.”

The Gretchen spoke visibly regretting his insolence.

“You must be da one dat stomps da sun, da bringa of dragons.”

Nox spoke

“I don’t know what a dragon iz, but I sure a zog ain’t got none on me, urry up and take me to yer mad kan.”

The cultist gave a final look at each other and began guiding Nox and his ladz up the steps of the imperial church.

The church was opulent compared to the rest of the humble village. Stained glass windows ran along the walls depicting the emperor’s nine loyal sons, and jam statutes of imperial saints filled the buttresses that supported these massive windows. At the far side of the church above where the preacher’s pulpits stood the stained glass emperor, his flaming sword set aglow by the setting sun. In this church were hundreds of clamoring orks and Gretchen shouting nut each grew silent as they saw Nox’s staff. Beneath the great glass emperor was the hulking form of the Mad Kan. The looted dreadnaught was perhaps half original and half ork scrap. Its left pauldron was decorated with the massive skull of a giant squig, ork icons hung from his chest like medals as hooks and chains dragged near his feet. The Mad Kan stared deeply at the stain glass emperor and spoke to it, its voice was constantly switching between feral orkish growls and the synthetic weeping of man. Its mechanical eyes flickered steel blue.

“Where were you in our time of need. Were we not worthy of your protection.”
Nox continued to walk forward control rod resting on his shoulder. The Mad Kan’s voice became more feral and his eyes glowed green.

“You can’t tell me wut to do, I’m da boss of my brain now get out of ere.”

The Mad Kan hoisted the kustom Gatling gun he had mounted to his arm and began firing at the stain glass window shattering the image of the Emperor.

The Mad Kan’s voice shifted to mechanical precision, the green abandoned his vision and replaced itself with red.

“Intruder detected, xenos confirmed.”

It returned to its ork voice as it pivoted to face Nox yet again his eyes becoming green.

“You dere flesh bag, you’z got my control rod. Did Kavorkoz send ya, you can tell him to shove dat rod up his…”

Before the ork could finish his comment another voice overpowered his, this one sounded far more human and eyes blue.

“Brother Wwworjech, you have returned the rrrrod, I am ready for di-di-diagnostic interface.”
An access point opened on the dreadnaught. Nox approached the Mad Kan but the access panel shut violently and the mechanical voice spoke again.

“Ork presence confirmed, combat mode initiated, melee functions online.”

The Mad Kan began charging at Nox as the Big Mek swore

“Oh Zog.”

Nox rolled out of the charging machine’s path as Nox’s honor guard ran in to help der beloved boss. One of the nobz was caught in the Mad Kanz grip and thrown out one of the stain glass windows, another was slammed into a group of the cheering Mad Kan cultists.

The Mad Kan’s ork voice returned as it laughed.

“You ladz fink yer ard enough to fight da fist of Gork HA pathetic.”

The Doof struck the Mad Kan with a bolt of sonic green energy and stumbled the dreadnaught back a step.

Nox shouted over the confusion.

“I need dat zoggin panel open again to get control.”
Gadnuk shouted

“On it boss.”

Gadnuk slunk around the back of the Mad kan dodging its unwieldy blows. Gadnuk worked his way to the behemoths back and leapt on to it. Gadnuk reached the access panel and drew his knife as he attempted to pry it open. The Mad Kan shook violently and caused Gadnuk to drop his knife. The Kommando nob shouted to his second in command.

“Bleeda.”

The Goff Sargegit did not hesitate to toss Gadnuk his knife. Using one hand to grip the back of the Mad Kan and another to catch the knife gadnuk plunged the blade into the seems of the access panel and pried it open. The commando shouted as he dismounted the beast.

“Its all you boss.”

Nox smield and whirled the staff as he charged for the Mad Kan. The dreadnaught swung at Nox, but the ork slid beneath his attacker’s blow and forced the rod into the access panel. The Rod stuck and at that moment the Mad Kan went still, its mechanical eyes shifted between red, blue, and green before going black. A moment passed and its eyes glowed red.

“System reboot complete.”

Blue eyes

“How may I serve.”

Nox smiled and spoke.

“Yer gona help me find someone.”

Green eyes

“Dat it, why didn’t you just say so.”

Nox smiled and soon every cultist in the room began to kneel in reverence of the Nox. The rebellious grot from the church steps shouted.

“All hail Supreme War Boss Nox Da Dragon Bringa.”

Slowly the kneeled orks began to chant

Drag-on Bring-ga

Drag-on Bring-ga

Drag-on Bring-ga

Gadnuk put his hands on his belt.

“WarpRida, Big Boss, Dragon Bringa, you have too many names now.”

The Doof added with a laugh

“Soon we’ze just gonna call ya Nox da ork wif too many names.”

Nox tossed the control rod to one of his honork guard and spoke.

“Come on den, we'z got a sorcerer ta find.”


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2017/04/28 03:40:36


Post by: Kharne the Befriender


=====Carcharodon Camp, Clerth, Crion=====
It is not unusual for Chapters to keep secrets, in fact, it is almost expected. It was for this reason that Ogun surveyed every crack and crevice of the few bunkers that formed the center of the Carcharodon camp. He found nothing, that was until he looked to the material itself and he scolded himself for not realizing earlier. The bunkers were in near perfect condition, no mars across the service, no cracks in the wall, only areas where a small amount had chipped off the edges and collected on the ground. He collected as much of the material as he could and began his studies.

Artemis tended to the marines that came back injured from the assault on the Gargant, they had lost only a few men compared to the other parties, but it was still a blow to the Carcharodons force having lost several geneseeds. They would need recruits to replenish the ranks and train for future wars. He decided he would take this matter up with Exitar, who oversaw the recruiting process, judging who was and wasn’t worthy to serve the Emperor. Artemis walked into Exitar’s room but only found his ancient Tartaros plate slotted neatly into niches made in the wall.

“What is your purpose hear Apothecary?”

The inquiry surprised Artemis, but Exitar did always have a kind of preternatural sense.

“I seek permission and assistance in obtaining recruits for our fleet.”

“I agree, we must fill our losses and prepare for more. In the meantime I could use some help or more precisely a remedy. My Lyman’s Ear seems to be performing below optimal levels.”

“I have a concoction with me that should help until we can take a closer look at it.”

He walked into the other room which was down a small foyer. Exitar sat at a station working on repairing the crack in his helmet, making sure to still leave a ‘scar’ on the helmet. When not wearing armor Exitar had little use for robes, this was because most rumors were true, everything from the waist down was mechanical, the left half of his torso was a patchwork of pale flesh and metal that led to a mechanical arm, his mouth having been replaced by a vox emitter and his left eye being bionic. What flesh that remained of him was scarred and covered in tattoos, the only visible part of his head was matted with long service studs. If not for the void-like black eyes that was a mark of the Carcharodons, he could be mistaken for an Iron Hand.

Ogun walked into the room shortly after Artemis finished administering his services, unfazed by the Apothecaries workings.

“Exitar I think we should go to Darby. I’ve been examining the bunker materials and it doesn’t match any commonly used forms, but I need to know how and where such materials were made.”

“Perfect, we were just about to go talk to Sigmun about recruiting villagers.”

The small band got ready and set out for the village of Darby, walking by the training grounds, the landing pad, and the strategium where Taranis was talking to several Sergeants and the Guard Captains. Taranis and Exitar exchanged a brief look and psychic information. After a few more minutes of walking they made it to the outer perimeter which was garrisoned by the Imperial Guard now attached to the marines, many of which stopped what they were doing to gaze upon the trio of super human warriors making their way through. After about 15 minutes of travel they reached the village and by the time they arrived at the chapel service had been ministered and Sigmun sat inside praying to the statue of the Emperor and the imperial Aquilla behind it. The heavy thudding footsteps told the priest that his Shark acquaintances had returned. He stood and turned to greet them.

“Greetings my lords, to what do I owe the pleasure of being your audience once again?” He face beaming at them.

Exitar spoke first, “We have questions to ask priest. First, we have deemed it necessary to begin recruiting again, we want your blessing for this. Secondly,” He removed a small pouch from his belt and handed it to the man, “We wish to know where and how this material was made.”

Sigmun paused for a second, digesting the information given to him, he poured a minute amount of the pouch into his hand. He slowly shook his head and bearing an almost concerned look he stared at the chaplain with confidence.

“You have my blessing to take recruits, but please, take no one who doesn’t want to go. As far as this,” He tilted his hand, letting the powder fall to the floor, “This material was made from Drake’s Ore, there is a mine not too far to the west that is filled with it, we shut it down due to lack of export and need.”

“Thank you, we will need to call the village together to speed up the process.”

“Well I’m sure that some of the men around here will help you work the mine, but that’s for them to decide. Ring the bell towards the middle of the town, that should get everyone gathered. Thank you for seeking my blessing.”

Exitar nodded and the trio again set out, but before Exitar left the priest called out to him once more.

“My lord! I have something you may to see, if you’ll entertain it.” Exitar took a second to reply, “Very well.”

Sigmun gestured for the marine to follow and he did so, slowing down as to not trample or pass the old man. He led him through a back and down stone stairs into the basement of the chapel, Exitar’s bulky frame hardly fitting through the passageways. A single hole in the ceiling shown light onto a lone chest bound by chain to a stone pillar, Sigmun walked up to the object and uttered a few prayers before removing a key from some unseen pocket. One by one the heavy chains thudded to the ground and the sound of metal chipping rock resonated for a few seconds, he opened the box and removed a fairly large object. He kneeled and presented it to the chaplain.

“This is our village’s most sacred relic, it is rumored to date back to the time when your kind ruled over this planet, I believe it would serve you better.”

Exitar took the object in his hands and was surprised at what he was seeing, it was a Crux Terminatus in the shape of a dragon.

Taranis finished giving orders to the garrisoned guard captains and his select marine sergeants who each left to go fulfill their assigned task. Now with the Ork distraction out of the way and the petty politics behind them it was time to get back to the task at hand. The one and only reason his fleet had been here so long, the Eldar and their damned farseer.

He walked out of the tent and to the edge of the dirt pasture the sat to one side of their camp. He held out his hand and let his rage flow, channeling it in such ways only he could, only a Carcharodon could. He felt the power surge and his soul shine as great stone fins jutted from the ground and moved through the field, almost as if ancient predators prowled beneath the surface.

Spoiler:
This piece should be much longer and lined up better but it's the best I could do for a well over do piece. Hope y'all enjoy."


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2017/04/30 20:28:48


Post by: Sgt_Smudge


Hive Torcan rose up from the ground, far taller than the smaller city on the horizon. New Pavus was nothing impressive, Shas'El Ghostwalk thought, even by Gue standards. Hive Torcan, on the other hand, was an entirely different beast. New Pavus had a pastoral charm, sprawling over the ground like a grassfield. The Hive City that stood before him was more like a tree trunk - vast, tall, and dead on the outside. It was for that reason that Ghostwalk and five of his best Stealth Suit pilots were deployed to the massive superstructure.

He had scoffed at the initial reports, until Vandred, and then Skyhunter himself, requested his attention. Tiller reports indicated a depleted and weakened defense force in Hive Torcan. The nearby conflict in New Pavus had drained Imperial forces from all around the continent, and even from across the sea. This would leave Torcan weakened, and ripe for attack, but this was not yet the time. Skyhunter had always ensured he followed a strict mantra, and Ghostwalk had done his best to adhere to it.
"Knowledge is equivalent to power. Conduct your wars as you would fire a bow: the more you draw the bowstring back, the more powerful your shot will be. If you accumulate as much knowledge as possible before you strike, your final strike will be more than the sum of multiple, punitive strikes. Crush your opponents in one single blow, wielding the bow of knowledge."

The Tiller reports needed evidence. The city being silent and shut off was not proof. Skyhunter would need visual confirmation. Stealth would be needed.
With a silent command, Ghostwalk activated his stealth field, and bounded over the outer wall. His jet pack carried him over, and softly onto the ground. His team followed suit, all but invisible to the outside world. The guardsmen on the wall didn't pause for a moment in their patrol. They were in the walls.

Just beyond the gate, large troop movements caught Ghostwalk off guard, and he paused, not trying to overtax his stealth field. A PDF gathering, a muster of troops, he thought. He checked his pict-recorder was still active, and observed. The insignia on many of the PDF was already familiar, found on the corpses of some of the warriors in New Pavus. The sigil of the Blood Fort was prominent on their shoulder pad. They were reinforcements, additional garrison forces. Ghostwalk cursed. Although Torcan's own garrison seemed depleted, troops from the Blood Fort, destined for New Pavus, had supported the neighbouring city instead. Still, just PDF, he said to himself. He shuffled on the rim of the searchlights that lit up the muster, and focused on the man facing all the troops. A big man, and judging from the crude rank pins, a Colonel of some description. His uniform was identical to the Blood Fort men around him. A dedicated leader, and, from the general gazes of pitiful awe the PDF were giving him, some sort of hero. Ghostwalk boosted the audio capture on his suit, diverting some power away. The PDF were just that - PDF, and PDF in his experience meant weakness. They wouldn't detect him.
His suit caught snippets as it boosted power further. Things like "-to New Pavus, our operations are crippled, yet-" and "-prepared for Tiller assault on this very-" filtered into the recording. Suddenly, the voice stopped. Ghostwalk checked his recording feeds. All active, and yet-

"Shas'El!" A sharp whisper in his earpiece snapped Ghostwalk to focus. "He's looking at us!" The Tau was right. The colonel has stopped, and not only were his eyes aimed right at the Stealth Suits, but all of the Blood Fort troopers. Ghostwalk felt a cold chill run through him, and froze. Had they seen him? Impossible, they were just-
"Enemies! To arms, under attack!"

The colonel's bellowed command broke Ghostwalk's stillness, and he cycled up his burst cannon to meet the PDF. Before they could bring their lasgun to their shoulder, the first ranks were cut down by fusillades of burst cannon fire. His stealth teams, still cloaked, broke into an overlapping formation, pinning the PDF in and away from the ever-moving Stealth Suits. They fell back into firing lines, firing at whatever they could lay eyes on. Ghostwalk got as close as he dared, trying to draw a bead on the colonel. Before he could depress the trigger of his burst cannon, the human glimpsed the shimmer of Ghostwalk's suit, and pointed sharply and calmly at the Tau. Seconds later, a blast smashed Ghostwalk off his feet. An autocannon turret, overlooking the assembly ground, chewed up the ground around the Stealth Suit, some slugs driving into the Tau's invisible armour. Another autocannon barked into life, and the entire area was filled with lead, autocannons firing indiscriminately at wherever the colonel pointed out.

One stealth suit yelled in pain, an autocannon round breaking his arm and his stealth field. Ghostwalk barely had time to respond when another Tau was downed again, this time her chestplate chewed up by lasbolts and auto-rounds. Their armour was ruined, all systems failing. They wouldn't be able to even jump-jet over the walls, let alone use their ruined stealth fields to hide. They were sitting ducks, and they all knew it. Ghostwalk knew this was not worth fighting for. He jumped back, his burst cannon still mowing down PDF that stumbled too near him. He spat the retreat order to the other stealth suits, and backed off to the gate. A few guards tried firing down and pinning their invisible assailants, but they were useless. As his suit shot him back over the walls of Torcan, his burst cannon riddled them with pulse bolts, and returning them back to the cold, hard ground of their hive city.

The recon was cut short, and several men lost, but Ghostwalk knew one thing. Hive Torcan was stronger than he anticipated. So much for just PDF, he thought, gnashing his teeth at the unknown fates of the two stealth suits he left behind.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2017/05/01 01:14:55


Post by: Irishpeacockz


The fetid, buzzing warband advanced into the vibrant, green mass of trees that sat between Garathal and his prize. The beastmen shaman and Garathal’s aid, Bazael trudged through the soft sludge of mud and animal feces that made up the forest floor. He could feel the creatures of the forest all around him, the birds roaming from branch in the towering trees above, the insects burrowing in the ground below, a group of bears were roaming somewhere to the far east and deer were drinking from a shallow stream to the south west. Even now he could turn all these creatures into a ravenous horde and direct towards his enemies, ripping them to shreds. His crass staff sunk deep in the mud forcing the shaman to rip the staff up with excessive force before continuing through the chirping woods. The Disciples of Decay were exhausted but Prophet Garathal demanded they not stop until they reach the banks of Arcannus lake. In days past Baezael was privy to the Grand Prophet’s inner circle, advising him in terms of strategy and sorceries, on alliances and betrayals. Now however Baezael has been ousted from such a privileged position, being left to do trivial tasks such as holding the Cathedral, the very one that is now being abandoned. Recalling the good ole days Baezael reminded himself of the moment Baezael had began to fall from his master’s favour, his decision to attempt to take Crion for his own. The Bray Shaman argued that the Imperial presence was too strong and too many factors were at play and that they would be better suited to raze other worlds, The terminator bound Prophet strongly disagreed with such an action and Baezael had been slipping from his graces ever since. A shout from ahead of the column snapped Baezael’s attention, the dying sun’s light was spread across the still lake waters as the birds of the forest fled from the myriad of disease that approached, trees were chopped and fires burned, the Disciples of Decay made camp as their Master eagerly anticipated his prize.

After an endless night of taxing meditation the sun rose over the horrid encampment that had sprang up around the mouth of the lake, the desecrated forest had been beaten back with rows of defiled tree stumps scattered around the outskirts,creating a line of vision for the Nurglites in case of an approaching force decided to creep out of the dense forest. The camp was grotesque and unorganised. Ragged tents were pitched in groups with the only deliberate placement being to avoid placing them in front of the makeshift gate to allow access. Trenches were dug for the human waste and fires burned with the carcasses of the local wildlife, the troops were tired and morale was low, they were exposed and downtrodden, Garathal needed to hurry. Garathal emerge from his tent with a spring in his step, his seven apostles arrayed on each side quickly fell in behind him and followed him down the hill from where his tent overlooked the shoddy excuse of an encampment. The Psychic shield previously impenetrable not felt weaker, distant almost like it was shimmering, Garathal estimated that whoever was casting such a shield wasn’t focusing on the shield as they once were and as such left their guard down, at least for a moment. Armed with this knowledge and confidence that he could break through this barrier and bypass the Black Loch Garathal wasted no time in diving back into the Arcannus Lake.

Zehk the Twiceborn and Commissar Schafer sat with their followers near the mouth of the camp where the stench was not as thick and the air was at least a little bit clearer. A trio of characters stood around a dying fire, Zehk’s physique was unmistakable, Schäfer's Commissar coat was a stable and a third figure with a wide brimmed hat and scout armor stood between them, almost as equals.
The Scout handed Zehk a single bolt casing

“You owe me”

Zehk looked at the bolt casing with displeasure before eyeing Garathal leaving the camp.
Garathal made for the gate but Zehk and Commissar Schafer stood in the way of the Rushing Prophet

“Good Morning, rotten one” greeted Zehk

“Twiceborn” nodded Garathal “What do you want ?” his tone less than welcoming

“Where are you going ? This sorry excuse for a camp is a disgrace, any attack here would turn into a slaughter” Zehk’s anger rising at the Prophet’s dismissive tone

“My business is my own but alas I am going to the lake now get out of the way” demanded Garathal, in no mood for this cumbersome delay

“For what purpose ? Your men need you here, they are on the brink of collapse” snapped Zehk gesturing to the slumped bodies and hanging heads of the nearby cultists now watching the confrontation

“Do not presume to tell me what to do with my followers runt !” exploded Garathal “It is by my good graces that you still draw breath, or do you want to be known as the thriceborn ? I would be happy to oblige”

“Do not bite off more than your rotten jaw can chew” snarled Zehk with a gleam in his eye

Both warriors took a step forward, with Zehk’s followers drawing their weapons, Garathal’s apostles did the same

Commissar Schäfer placed a hand on Zehk’s armored gauntlet “We share the same enemy, no need to add more to that bloody list” with a soothing voice that had a hint of anger

Zehk exhaled and stood to one side glaring at Garathal’s party as they made their way to the awaiting boat on Lake Arcannus.

Reg’s boat bobbed in the serene waters, almost beckoning Garathal to approach, yearning for a purpose. Garathal climb in and so did his apostles, the eight terminator clad marines pushed the boat to it’s limits but it stayed afloat and brought Garathal closer and closer to the fading pyschic shield.The slow ride over was excruciating for Garathal, he knew this window of opportunity was short and this already slow boat was working overtime to carry such momentous cargo, slowing it to a crawl. The rumbling motor came to a halt and the boat soon followed. Garathal Stood up and his brothers readied themselves, without uttering a word they all jumped from the boat, into the deep dark waters below.

The dense nature of their Tactical Dreadnought armor dragged the the eight figures helplessly to the bottom of the dark, black lake. Their descent was clouded by the pitch black waters and it wasn’t until the apostles hit the lakebed floor did they illuminate their menacing surroundings. Garathal would have been happy to walk through the darkness, the twin holes that once acted as his eyes did not benefit from the beaming lights, all the same he gave his staff a little shake and green warp fire flared to life around his blade. Retracing his steps back through the shipwrecks and the bones of past meals, Garathal found the timeless ruins again. He decided to skirt around the mound of sand and try to get into the ruins from a different angle, being careful not to rouse the Black Loch, again. A path was cut into the mound around the back which seemed to lead into a cave underneath the ruins, keeping close to the wall of sand and keep a wary eye above for the Black Loch’s swift fury, The psychic ward was flaring in his mind's eye now, he was close. Just inside the cloaked cave stood a shimmering barrier, to an untrained eye it was just an empty cave waiting to be ravaged and explored. Garathal was no fool and motioned for his apostles to hang back as he outstretched his palm, a pale blue barrier faded in and out of existence as Garathal leaned forward as if to exert more pressure, the shimmerings became more frequent and the barrier appeared to form cracks before finally disappearing, Garathal fell forward into the cave, into the looming darkness.

Before him stood more time weathered statues of armored figures flanking a sealed door. The water level had dropped significantly, swaying near their ankles and droplets of water could be heard dropping from the nearby stalactites. With a flick of the recovering Sorcerors wrist two apostles, Brother Steele and Brother Farthac strode forward and proceeded to kick the door in. A few thunderous thumps later and the door collapsed in on itself into the musty, derelict hallway that lied beyond. Garathal shuffled forward, leaning heavily on his staff

“Take the lead, if me breaking through the barrier didn’t alert them, that definitely did”

Swinging their fearsome Manreapers back around the two Apostles led the way through the rusted, leaking corroded hallways. Following the flickering lights Nurgle’s chosen ancient murals scrawled upon the walls, done with a shaky hand the murals showed armored warriors taming dragons and taking oaths of fealty from humans, the murals ended suddenly with two dragons coiling around each other with a planet that must have been Crion resting in it’s center, as if it was being squeezed. A distinct humming sound rattled to life somewhere further on down the hallway, Brother Rhaegos spun on his heels

“What was that ?”

Garathal, feeling stronger preceded down the hallway

“A generator or a power source” answered the Prophet gesturing to the now beaming lights

They passed sealed rooms labelled as “Armory” and “Medical Center”, Garathal made a note to loot them later, rounding a corner he froze. A door stood open at the end of the passage with light beaming out of it and mutterings could be faintly heard. Pressing on, Garathal ordered a tight formation and moved into the light, the room was unlike anything in the facility that they have seen so far. The facility as a whole was old and neglected,dust and rust was common and seawater was leaking in, threatening a full blown cave in, the room they now found themselves in was white and clean, almost clinical. Bright lights shined against the white flooring ands which was sure to blind any who had just come from the darkened, decrepit hallways. A grey robed figure hunched over a console frantically pressing buttons and checking something that resembled a heart rate sensor, he turned suddenly eyes widening and fists shaking vigorously

“You Fool, do you have any idea what you are meddling in ?”

Garathal spun his staff into a two handed stance ready to slice such an insolent whelp in two

A dozen or so shots from a crude auto pistol spread widely between Garathal and his chosen, pinging off their armor or flat out missing them entirely, the shaky human had wasted his ammunition. Garathal left out a bellow of laughter but was cut short by red sirens and a flashing, busted console behind them. Pods that they had not noticed upon entry rose vertically, humanoid shapes clawed to escape their tubular prisons, they were soon granted their wish. Hissing open simultaneously armored warriors fumbled out, their grey armor was of an older mark, mark II or III, a crimson splatter was spread from their left pauldron, it wasn’t until one turned towards Garathal did he realised that the splatter resembled a dragon. The nearest one lashed out at Garathal who got a swift diagonal strike through his ancient helm for his trouble spilling crimson all over the pristine floor, the horde of warriors descended upon them, the apostles sent up a defensive line around their leader who was enjoying to finally get a chance to spill some blood. A door on the far side of the room opened, more warriors, a warrior rushed Garathal who sidestepped his attack and clipped the back of his right leg toppling him before bringing his full might on the downward swing on his back. Humans flooded in from behind them, flanking them with autoguns. The Apostles were struggling, Brother Lynx had two warriors on his back while Brother Rhaegos managed to slice one off while contending to two warriors of his own, the runes on his staff glowing Garathal released a wave of green ward fire towards the door, sending the reinforcing humans in disarray

“Apostles fall on me, a fighting retreat !”

The eight Nurglites backed into the narrow hallways, slicing and sweeping through the armored warriors and robed humans that charged at them, as Garathal reached the cave the pursuers relented in their assault. Realising that the site was deadly, Garathal decided to gather reinforcements and to digest these recent events. Back on the surface, as the last of the Apostles clambered back on board, a deafening roar erupted throughout the air as a crescent shaped starship zoomed over the lake and hovered, the waters heaved at such a development and wary of the looming Black Loch Garathal quickly ordered the boat to shore. The starship’s hull was ivory with golden accents, Garathal recognised the vessel as Necron design but it beared resemblance of Tau design aswell, something began to build up with the aircraft, looming closer and closer Garathal wondered if this was how it would end for him he readied himself, the build up was reaching it’s apex and then …… a horn sounded, Friends from an old alliance had returned …….
Spoiler:
The dragons arise .....

Actions take place on Arcannus Lake



Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2017/05/05 03:26:11


Post by: Tactical_Spam


The shoreline of Lake Arcannus was less polluted than Nurgle-populated swamp, making it more an ideal camp for Zehk's men. A small cluster of tents sat just inside the cover of the tree line two-hundred feet from the water. Two men sat out on the lake trolling for fish to feed the hunger bellies gathered around campfires. Their humanity had not left them. Zehk, on the other hand, sat alone on the stump of a tree he felled earlier for firewood. A gruff voice kept him company.

"We should have left in the night. I don't trust these Nurglites."

"Is there a person you do trust, Par?" Zehk asked the voice, half expecting a protracted silence for an answer.

"I trust you. You'd at least have the decency of stabbing me in the chest."

"I wouldn't get close enough to do that: you'd shoot me in a heartbeat... now holster the gun that your pointing at me."

The slow sound of something metal sliding into leather confirmed Zehk's suspicion. The Marine Malevolent he trusted as a vanguard and scout was probably the last soul he should trust, but Par had saved Zehk's life more times than he could count. There was a mutual benefit for both of them to work with each other; it was an almost natural case of a symbiotic relationship. Zehk protected Par from the frontline and his vengeful Chapter and Par evened the odds in Zehk's duels and provided him with much needed information on his targets.

"Zehk, I have received word that there is a floating city somewhere to our Northeast," Par said, handing s crudely drawn map of Crion to Zehk. Several red markings indicated weak points in Imperial patrol routes, one placed conveniently near the where the suspected city was located. Zehk raised his brow.

"Where did you get this?"

"I liberated it from a dead bluey," Par said, taking a step back and drawing his pistol. Zehk pressed his armored chest into Par, apparently unconcerned about being shot.

"I'm not about to fight these Nurglites sooner than we have to. We both know they and the Tau are working together."

"Easy, big guy. I didn't kill this one. Some Ork did first, but I will give it to you that I probably would've shot him had he been alive."

"Then don't let them know you have it... keep me posted as usual"

Zehk stepped back and turned to the beach. The men were hauling in some huge catch out of the boat and bringing more firewood to start a bonfire. A few men were huddled around something out of sight near one of the campfires and laughing. Zehk knew that couldn't be a good sign. He walked over slowly, his men turning away if they met his gaze. Schäfer was the first face he recognized in the group. To Zehk's surprise, she was only dressed in her white undershirt and a blanket wrapped around her legs. Her Commissar coat and dress pants hung damp from a clothes line behind her. She blew a puff of smoke up to Zehk.

"The men made a hookah. You really found the crafty bunch didn't you, Z?" Scäfer asked, giggling like a schoolgirl.

"The lax composure doesn't fit you, Commissar," Zehk said unamused.

"Can't have a stick up my ass all the time. If I did, I'd turn into you," Schäfer retorted, winking at Zehk. The men roared and clapped for the Commissar. Zehk smirked and took a place in the ring. "Can you Astartes even get high?"

Zehk laughed, "No, but let me tell you about Fenresian Ale..."


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2017/05/05 15:53:34


Post by: War Kitten


As the last Deff Dread ground to a halt belching smoke Amanda Valorn took a deep breath and looked around. Surrounding her Knight in all directions were the shattered wrecks of Ork vehicles. She and her siblings had been run ragged for the last few weeks just holding back the Ork tide on this moon. Countless splinter groups had diverged from the Gargant and it had been the duty of House Valorn to show the Greenskin filth the error of their ways. It had been something that the Scions had taken to with gusto, for the hatred they held for Orks was second only to that of the deep seated hatred the Scions held for the forces of Chaos. The last few weeks had been a blur of nonstop fighting as the Valorn Knights had fought a constant war to push the Orks back into the deserts of the moon.

But all of this was about to come to an end. New Pavus had been captured by the Tillers, an insult to the Imperium that House Valorn could not permit. Vid captures from the city had indicated the presence of heretics among the force that took the city, further damning the Tillers in Amanda's eyes. It would be her pleasure to cleanse the world of their filth...

At that last thought she felt the machine spirit of her Knight growl in approval. The old spirit was always eager for a scrap, which was part of the reason why Amanda had been chosen to bond with this particular suit. Their personalities meshed well, and Amanda liked to think it made them an even more lethal force on the battlefield.

Amanda turned as her vox beeped once. Her brother Cassius was indicating that it was time to move on. If they intended to visit the Emperor's fury on the Tillers they needed to get moving. Amanda smiled grimly and followed after her brother, the Tillers would learn to fear the name of Valorn.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2017/05/07 03:20:28


Post by: Bobthehero


---- Crion, In the Wilds around New Pavus ----

'' Beholder, Echo Echo, Medusa, this is Trident, message, over ''

Three voices '' Send it ''

'' Have you boys found a hole yet ''

Beholder answered first, as always, being the first in the alphabetical order '' Negative, terrain the city is terrible, that mountain has little to no cover, especially on the side where our targets parked their asses, over ''

Echo Echo followed up '' We've found a decent hideout, we can track movement easily enough, over ''

'' Medusa here, we'll need more time to find a good area, especially since our role might end up overlapping with Echo Echo, over ''

'' We'll manage, Echo Echo, send us your coordinates, same for the rest of the teams, once you're all set, we'll get in touch soon, out ''

Novus turned towards his team commander, Tempestor Kaarl

'' Why did HQ bother sending so many team anyway? There aren't that many roads that leads to the city ''

'' Its all guess work from every above us, as far as I am aware. After analyzing battle reports, recordings from our m-scopes and images of recon Valks, the brass assumed our enemies aren't a big happy family, its assumed all three faction will do their own thing, and two of them have pretty large aerial capacities, so keeping tabs on air traffic is a must, and we need more than a team for that, as for us... well trouble's always around the corner, might as well keep an extra team to help the others, or keep track of the latest trouble makers ''

The sniper, Haxta shrugged '' Make sense, so where do we go? ''

'' There's a village we saw on the pics, I am thinking about investigating, its all the way down the peak, right before a fork in the road, it would the ideal area to watch, and pretty much everyone who comes to New Pavus on foot will come through ''

---- 9 hours later, Team Trident OP ----

Haxta and Silon had been watching the village for thirty minutes now, and what seemed to be a long night of observation was about to become a fair bit more interesting.

'' Hey Hax, y'see the promethium station, western edge of the town ''

'' Mhmm, oh... I see... ''

A half track, its back filled with crates of autoguns as well as a smaller civilian Tauros parked up by the pump, four men got out of the smaller vehicle while a man walked up to them, a scowl on his face. The two Scions were too far ot hear much, but it was clear the men driving had no intention to pay for the fuel they were taking. The argument was cut short by two swift blows of an autogun buttstock.

'' Uh, you'd think they'd actually treat the population decently, I guess not, you got that on the scope? ''

'' At this range? Picture's gonna be too unclear for us to use it, could be Guardsmen, and you can bet our enemies are going to twist it that way. Still we know this village is a good hiding spot, we know they use it for something, and that the locals don't like it, we can use this, I'll send a message to the Tempestor ''


---- Crion, Cache of Echo Echo team ----

'' Heads up boys and girls, we have a target, small convoy of arms is coming this way, we're going to stop it ''

'' What are we dealing with, Tempestor? ''

'' Two vehicles, a half track with two crew and a heavy stubber, and a civie Tauros, four men in, bring up the HEIAP rounds, that Tauros doesn't need to bother us for long ''

Fifteen minutes later, the 5 men team was in position.

'' The sniper team will disable the Tauros, this should give time for Octus to kill the driver of the half track while Xanthia takes care of the gunner, after that, we dispose of everything, make it seem like this dangerous road collapsed and the vehicles plummeted down ''

'' Well assuming they send more convoys, we're gonna run out of road pretty quick ''

'' We're not taking out every convoy, we'll strike at random, except if Trident reports that the convoy is carrying something worth denying from the enemy ''

A few minutes later, the team could barely hear the distant rumbling of approaching vehicles. From there on it took another minute for the targets to come within range of the all of the team weapons.

'' Now ''

A thunderclap rolled through the mountain as the hellshot fired, it was soon followed by an explosion, as the HEIAP round detonated inside the fuel compartement of the Tauros, killing everyone on board. The half track stopped to avoid ramming the wreck, and two bright green beams cut through the air, as well as their targets, and the mountains fell silent again.

'' Huh, are they training their men or something? I could swear that gunner had his gun on me ''

'' Must be luck ''

'' A lucky man wouldn't catch a lasbolt to through the eye ''

The team regrouped at the vehicles and the Tempestor quickly gave his orders

'' Someone get in that half track, ram the wreck of the road, then just roll it down the gorge, we'll damage the road and make it seem natural. Make sure you keep two autoguns and ten mags, having some Tiller weapons might be useful for deception ''

The Scions quickly set up to their tasks, and disapeared back in the forest, leaving no trace of the ambush.

---- Two days prior, near the remnants of the Dred Mob ----

'' That's... that's a rather large camp for a mob we supposedly defeated '' said Jastilus, looking through his hellshot scope.

'' Mhmm, there were close to a million of e'm, apprently, that's enough to house what... seven hundred? '' answered Andrea

'' Give or take a few hundred, I would guess you're right. Hey Silon, you noticed anything funny about those shacks? ''

The spotter didn't even bother looking away from either his spotter scope or the sketch of the camp he was drawing '' I sure do, shacks spread in roughly two groups, two distinct and recurring glyphs, I'd say the mob split in two, and roughly the same numbers, too ''

Andrea looked at her Tempestor '' Sir seven hundred feels an awful kind of low, in my humble professionnal opinion, the mob broke pretty quick when Secundus Enoch offed their commander ''

The Tempestor looked up to her '' About half our men and other friendlies stayed behind to hunt as many survivors as we could. High altitude observation tells us this is the last large major camp in the area. We're here to observe, but all those things the sniper team saw... well that gives me an idea. Send a message to HQ, we need a drop of explosives and silenced autopistols ''

---- The next day, at Team Guardian Drop Point ----

'' Sir all I gotta say is, that's an awful lot of explosive for a observation mission '' the Scion who talked was casually laying on the Valkyrie wall

The Tempestor nodded '' We talked to Tempestor Secundus Lor about it last night, she gave us the go to finish the rest of the Orks, considering she's the least likely to sanction uneeded agressive actions, I think this plan is sound, and so do the bosses ''

The other stormtrooper nodded off and boarded his vehicle, leaving the Tempestor with a crate full of mines and melta charges, alongside six silenced autopistols. The Tempestor waved his troops and ordered them to carry the extra equipement back to their hideout.

'' The plan is simple, we'll split in three phases, first the sniper team identify the two Nob leading the warbands, see where they sleep, look for ways to sneak in the camp, meanwhile the rest of us will set a proper minefield. Next phase is we kill the leaders, fire a couple of their autoguns to make noise and retreat, let them greenskins murder eachother. When this is done, snipers take a few shots, the survivors will rush, right in the minefield, we make sure everyone is dead, make the coordinates, and the bosses above will send PDF to char the area ''

'' What if the Orks quickly decide on a new boss, with little casualties inflicted? ''

'' We'll have a Valkyrie on standby, it'll be roughly a five minutes run, we'll be about two hundred meters being the mines, we pull back when the Orks reach a hundred meters in front of our position and we either strike them from the air or simply bug out ''

All in all, it took two days for the members of team Guardian to obtain all the information they needed to stage their plan, and on the third night, the Tempestor went in, alongside three of his men, while the snipers remained behind to watch the camp.

The small group arrived at the camp wall, emcumbered by grav chute. The Tempestor gave the order and the stormtrooper reversed the setting on the chutes, allowing them to bound over the wall in silence. Once in the camp, the Scion split in two, with each team planning on killing the leading Nob, as well as many as many other Nobs as they could. The Orks were themselves split in two groups, simply deemed the blue one and the purple one, after the more proeminent colors of the shacks. The Tempestor had picked the blue ones for himself and his man, and the pair stealthy made their way to the biggest blue shack, identified by the snipers to be the leader's barracks. The two already knew that the main door would be the wrong way in, instead, they would use their gravchutes to reach the roof and use the shoddy constructied hut to sneak in and kill the leader. Luck was on their side, as the roof had plenty of holes the Scions could exploit.

A few pulled planks later, and the men entered the building with no other obstacle. The building was suprisingly empty, and the reason why would soon be shown to the operators. The Orks were all in the same room, a whole lot of tightly pack Nobs and a few servant grots.

'' That's going to be a problem '' said the Tempestor

The other stormtrooper simply took out a melta bomb from its pouch.

'' You got two frags, I got two and a krak, we tape the whole thing, set the melta to what... fifteen minutes? Improvised demo charge, should vaporize most of the targets in here, should also anger the survivors in other shacks a lot more than silenced gunfire ''

'' Uh, good plan, I'll inform the others, get to it, but tape the thing in another room, can't have that wake anything up ''

Before the explosives were set, the Tempestor heard four clicks in quick suggestion, twice with a fifteen seconds interval, a code that meant the other team had successfully killed the leader, alongside three other Nobs and were now pulling back.

TO BE FINISHED (There will be something about the Tau failed attack, too)








Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2017/05/07 12:41:41


Post by: Sgt_Smudge


Above the jungles of Cambria, wildlife below scattered under the brief shadow that played over the tips of the leaves. Silent, swooping, symmetrical - Sub-Commander Mirrorstone's expeditionary force passed over the sea of green and forest canopy. One of the Cadre's few Mantas, flanked by Orcas and Razorshark escorts, skimmed just below the cloud line, as a marine mammal swims just below the surface with such ease and grace. This was a migration for the shoal. The first large-scale mobilisation Sunstrike Cadre had performed since it landed on Crion. To spread the Cadre's power outward, Skyhunter had authorised his trusted defensive tactician to establish a listening post at the Jorgan River. By doing this, he would have control over all of Cambria south of that river. Almost a quarter of the Cadre's strength, as well as a large portion of Crisis and Broadside Suits and one of the Cadre's Riptides was mobilised, alongside shoals of Orcas carrying construction materials for the new base. Mirrorstone was pleased.

The Earth Caste leader sauntered between the control banks of the cockpit, and called one of her subalterns to her. A Tau slipped out of his harness, and saluted the Sub-Commander. She continued walking, down to the vehicle bay. The officer followed suite.
"Shas'vre Ria'rak?"
"Yes, Sub-Commander?" Ria'rak was one of the four junior officers in the expeditionary team. His own experience in the Cambria jungles and negotiations with the greenskins had made him ideal for the mission, as well as the one Mirrorstone had in store.
She didn't shy away from the point. "I want you to deploy you and your men alongside our compliment of recon drones, and perform a cursory scan of the land south of the Jorgan River. You will monitor the drone's progress over the night as we set up the main listening post, then join us in the morning."

Ria'rak nodded. "Will you set us down, or-"
"Devilfish insertion. We'll scatter the recon drones as we fly over. Set down your Devilfish, and the drones will come back to you."
"Understood, Fio'El."
"We'll scatter the first drones in a few minutes. Prepare your men for controlled descent."

---------------------------------------------

The recon drones detached from the Manta like flies, and quickly vanished into the forest. The four Devilfish of Ria'rak's team were likewise ejected, falling out of the back of the Manta's cargo hold. Their grav-systems caught them just above the treeline, and they settled down slowly in between the dark boughs of the trees. Below the sun, the jungle came alive, and the Devilfish began to find a temporary camp for the night.
Through the journey, Ria'rak kept a good watch over the drone feeds from his own Devilfish. So far, there was little of much note - most of the danger he found he had anticipated already. Feral Orks, ones that hadn't strayed into the drone patrols that roamed Grim and Avarqwell. Living, violent trees, which the drones nimbly evaded. Other, unknown wildlife species indigenous to Crion. Nothing of massive note, until Ria'rak was brought snapping to the immediate location. His Devilfish had stopped. He was being hailed on the intercom. He snatched at the device.
"Yes? Who is this?"
"++ Gue'vesa'ui Harland, from the Pathfinder team attached to your force.++"
"Yes, Harland. What's the situation? Why have we stopped?"
"++We've reached a clearing dead ahead. I don't know what, but it feels unnatural. The Gue'vesa in my unit feel something too. It almost feels like the trees are afraid of this place.++"
Ria'rak thought for a moment, then spoke back to Harland.
"A clearing, you say? We'll camp here. I'm sorry, but I can't let some feeling prevent us from completing the mission. If you can find another location for us to settle down, I'd be welcome, but this must make do. For the Cadre."
"++ Understood, Shas'vre. For the Cadre.++"

The four Devilfish set down their engines, and formed a square formation. The Fire Warriors and Pathfinders disembarked inside of the defensive circle, and began to drink up, chat and play games. Ria'rak couldn't help but notice the Gue'vesa in both Harland's Pathfinders and his own Fire Warriors being on edge. He hoped it wouldn't last through the night.

---------------------------------------------

He was wrong. As the men and women slept inside their vehicles, every few hours, a vehicle would be woken up by the frenzied waking shouts of a human soldier. They were getting dreams now. Ria'rak heard them out - some dreamt of fire, others of great winged beasts, like on the murals in Site Foxtrot, and others hearing laughter and screams of horror. Enough was enough. Sleep was inefficient. Ria'rak strapped on his combat armour, and relieved the night watchman. He would stand guard tonight, and catch up on sleep back at the base. The shuffling of feet through leaves beside him didn't worry him. He knew that it was too loud to be a threat. A human face met him, practically invisible in the darkness. The rank badges marked the man out - Gue'vesa'ui Harland.

"You been having those dreams too?" Ria'rak muttered, not wishing to disturb the relative peace of the night.
Harland nodded. "Yeah. Nothing like anything I've experienced before."
"It's only seemed to affect you humans. None of my Tau are affected at all."
"Same here. It might be one of those things that the Ethereals told us, when they did the whole 'Allied Races of the Empire' spiel."
"Oh?"
"When the Tau Empire came into contact with human forces for the first time, and they met on the battlefield, the forces of the human Imperium were augmented by humans with paracausal abilities. Not only did the humans exhibit these abilities, but so do Eldar, and many other races. However, no Tau has ever experienced our manifested such paracausal abilities. The Earth Caste biologicians has hypothesised that the Tau species might not be able to exhibit these abilities, and yet other races have such potential latently."
"So you're saying that there's something about humans and a connection to this paracausal force that the Tau might not have, and that's present here?"
"Possibly. This could be a- a focal point, a site of connection to that power?"
"You're veering towards tribal beliefs there, Harland. Rituals, mystic power, something not physical - I thought we liberated you humans from that kind of irrational thinking?"

Harland laughed nervously, not sure how to interpret Ria'rak's statement. "I hope so too. There could be a rational explanation for this, but you know that paracausal power exists, why not here? Who says that there isn't something we can't comprehend, something that you simply can't-"
"Are you suggesting that the humans are superior?" Ria'rak raised his voice. Harland stammered.
"N-not at all? I'm not saying anyone's superior, I'm just saying that biologically-"
"Biologically what? Tau just can't think as good as you humans? How come we're more technologically advanced than these Gue excuses for warriors? Without us, you'd be hurling your pathetic excuses for guns at eachother, and writhing in the mud as we come in and-"

Harland reached for his gun,and drew it. Ria'rak, his blood boiling from the human's insubordination, prepared to draw his own. Harland's pistol pointed into the forest, and Ria'rak traced it;s barrel out into the darkness.
"There!" Harland exclaimed. "Out there!"
Ria'rak looked. He told Harland what he saw - "Nothing?"
Harland pointed out. "No, look, look there! Eyes. They're around us, eyes! Something's out here."
The Tau grabbed him by the shoulders. "You idiot, there's nothing. Nothing, you understand? Get some rest, human. Leave this to the Tau." Harland blinked stupidly, and looked again outwards. His breath sighed out, and he holstered his pistol. He hung his head, dejected.
"Nothing. There's nothing. I must have been seeing something."
"Yes. That's right." Ria'rak's haze of anger was subsiding. His outburst against the human was misplaced. He would apologise later. After sleep. "Go and sleep, Harland. I'll take the watch." He patted Harland's shoulder as he left.
As he resumed the watch, he swore for a moment he did see a pair of red eyes, but they vanished in a flash. Probably just a psychological trick, from his outburst at Harland. Psychology, biology, synapses firing.
Nothing more.

As Harland walked back to the hatch door of his Devilfish, he paused. The eyes were there. He shut his. Just a hallucination. He opened them. More eyes, blood red, lurking in the darkness. Harland shut his eyes again. He reached for his pistol. He opened his eyes, and-
Gue'vesa'ui Harland woke up in his bed, drenched in a cold sweat.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2017/05/15 18:11:45


Post by: Irishpeacockz


Double Post.


Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2017/05/15 18:13:02


Post by: Irishpeacockz


The hastily boarded windows blocked out most of the morning sun, but a few weak rays managed to penetrate the secluded safehouse of the Tiller’s. Dust lingered in the air, on the cheap tables, the creaking chairs, the messy, crowded kitchen counters, this place hadn’t seen a living person in quite time, until last night. Mason closed the bathroom carefully behind him as he flushed the toilet and undid the lock on the bathroom door, strolling into the living room they had slept in the night before all Mason found was some crumpled up discarded sleeping bags and a weary eyed tiller slumped on the tattered, patched up couch who Mason recognized was on night watch the night before, muffled voices from inside the kitchen caught Mason’s attention and upon locking eyes with the drained tiller Mason exchanged a nod before investigating the ruckus.

“....and return to Tyler empty handed ?” challenged Spencer “Are you daft or just plain stupid ?”

“He isn’t our commanding officer and we don’t owe him gak” retorted Mac

“With that kind of attitude Crion will never be unshackled from the aristocracy, we are in this together Mac” sighed Spencer who eyed Mason strutting in

“What's the problem now ?” asked Mason “Deciding whose turn it is to clean this dump ?” running a finger along the kitchen counter accumulating dust along the way

“Our next move” scowled Lynn “Which shouldn’t even be in question, we find out who is eroding our presence here and put a stop to it if possible”

“Course daddy's little girl would follow him to the bloody lett-”

Lynn slammed Mac’s head down on the old feeble table, straight into the greasy meal he was eagerly devouring

Mason chuckled “Might want to watch your tongue, if you haven’t already bitten it clean off”

Spencer placed a hand on Lyn’s shoulder who released a snarling Mac

“Perhaps you should wait here a spell while we take a look around, if we find nothing then we can try to leave together”

Mac looked at Mason with distrustful eyes before spitting blood into a nearby jar

“Fine, there have been ….. Gatherings in the slums, near the docks crazy cult stuff.”

Lyn raised an eyebrow “And ? what of it “

Mac didn’t meet her piercing gaze “They started to appear around the same time we started losing men, I didn’t think the two were connected but when I saw the tattoos …”

“You’ve been to one of these meetings ?” inquired Spencer

“Nah, not worth the risk as I said it was just rumors nothing concrete”

“Worth a shot” declared Mason, going to gather his gear in the adjacent room

Lyn quickly followed behind, eager to get away from a deflated Mac

Mason fumbled with the loops on his trouser and his belt, Lyn’s silk smooth, pale hands slid in from behind and groped Mason’s groin before finally finding the belt buckle, Lynn began to kiss his neck before whispering into Mason’s ear

“Whoops”

Spinning around their lips met for a few moments until Spencer’s voice loomed closer

“What's the plan then Lynn, we gonna scout out this meet and greet or what ?”

“I think you should keep an eye on Mac, make sure he doesn’t bolt. Mason and I got this”

Spencer eyed the couple for a few, skeptical moments before shrugging “Ok, just be careful alright ?”

“Will do Mr. Mills, although judging by the way Commander Adaso handled Mac I think we should be fine” grinned Mason, jolting Lynn with his arm

Spencer chuckled “Yeah, sometimes Mac just needs a clip round the ear, a good kid though”

Mason’s face grimaced “You sure his heart is in the right place ?”

Spencer thought about it for a moment “Sure, yeah course, it is just nerves is all he won’t let us down”

Mason’s mood lightened and he smiled “Good, see you soon Spence”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Having some time to kill before the meeting would commence, Mason and Lynn decided to go to a bar for some private time. The Crab’s Eye was one of the last remaining bars open in Nortannis, by watering down his drinks and charging exuberant prices the business savvy barman had profited from the chaos but even his stock was running low. Mason pushed the door open holding it for Lynn behind him, the place was empty and filthy. Blood, vomit and other bodily fluids stained the floors, the few remaining patrons eyed the newcomers suspiciously as they drank from their watered down, overpriced beverages. The barman was cleaning a glass with a dirty rag when Mason approached the bar

“Don’t bother asking for something in particular mate as I only got the one brew left, you having a glass or what ?”

Mason, surprised by the bluntness of the barman stood there a moment, realised he must of had a monopoly on the drinks in Noretannis

“Sure, two glasses”

After paying the ridiculous price Mason brought the liquid gold over to the table Lynn decided to sit in, which seemed to be as far away from everyone else as physically possible.

“Interesting choice of seats” smiled Mason as he handed Lynn her brew

“Seemed apt considering the topic of our conversation” countered Lynn

“Indeed, so anything in particular you want to talk about ?” asked Mason as he took a sip from the water based ale

“Yes, I want you to cut the bs, you are shifty Mason, those skills you showed with a sword ? The ruthlessness you showed when you ripped out that guy's throat ? What was his name …” Lynn began to trance off in a meaningless effort to remember the dead cultists name

“Varius, his name was Varius” answered Mason, remembering the raw look of fear in Varius’ eyes before he was left to bleed out

“Yeah well you get the point, you ain’t no farmer’s boy Mason that's for damn sure” Lynn took a triumphal swig from her drink, waiting for Mason to answer

Mason blushed and his eyes dropped to the gritty table “I ah, I don’t remember”

Lynn furrowed her maintained brows “Come on, spit it out Mason where you from ?”

Mason looked up now but not at Lynn but over her shoulder and sighed

Lynn pushed Mason farther “You are joking me right ? You hardly expect me to belie-”

“It’s true” snapped Mason “I cannot remember where I was born or who my family is or whether they are even alive”

The other patrons in the bar turned their heads at the outburst and Lynn sat back in shock

Mason did not apologise but continued on “I could have a child Lynn, a wife and I wouldn’t even know”

Lynn’s usual rough tone softened “I’m … sorry Mason I had no idea”
“It’s fine, you couldn’t have known, forget about it”

“You sure you don’t want to talk about it ?” asked Lynn

“Not much to talk about, just a few nightmares” said Mason as he downed his diluted beer

“If it will help I think we shou-”

“No” ended Mason as he slammed his glass down on the table and checked his watch

“C’mon let's check out this warehouse while we still have daylight”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A group of warehouse’s sat in the slums just past the disregarded port. Like the port ever since the the flow of goods stopped flowing into Nortannis the warehouses throughout the city were locked up and left to rot until the ports reopened. Warehouse 13 seemed to be no exception, dust coated the windows and the corrugated iron roof was rusted, the twin doors were sealed shut with a heavy chain and an unremarkable padlock sat at the end of it. The area around the warehouses was derelict with no signs of activity of any kind. Spying a secluded office that seemed to be abandoned, Mason slipped over and snuck inside, closing the door behind him before realising that the lock was broken and dragged a chair behind it instead.

“Now we sit and watch” declared Mason as he pulled out a Lho-Stick and sparked up

Their conversation from the Crab’s Eye was still raw in both of their minds and the tension in the room was insufferable. They sat in a silence for awhile and watched as warehouse 13 was engulfed in the light of Crion’s moons, the enduring silence was broken by an apologetic Mason

“Listen about earlier I -”

“Forget it, it’s fine” cut off Lynn, Mason knew it wasn’t fine

“It’s a touchy subject, after this, after Nortannis, we can talk about it if you’d like”

Their eyes locked and two smiles crept across their faces

“Sure, i’d like that” smiled Lynn, a sudden flash of lights garnered their attention

The twin doors were swung open with lights on inside, music and cheering could be heard and people were funneling in from the slums

“What the feth ?” puzzled Mason

“Looks like a party” noted Lynn, with a playful tone in her voice

“No” protested Mason

“Come on !” pleaded Lynn “This is what we were waiting for !”

Mason rubbed his temples and sighed “Fine, but be on your guard”

The duo left their little cabin and walked across the port to Warehouse 13, the smell of alcohol hit them like a truck as Crion folk music played in the background. The whole thing seemed to be innocent enough, people were drinking, dancing and laughing, which was what made things worse for Mason who leaned into Lynn’s ear

“What made these people risk the wrath of the Adepta Sororitas for a simple party ?”

Lynn shrugged and grabbed a drink off a nearby table “I dunno but this seems better than that overpriced swill we had earlier”

Mason grabbed the drink and put it back on the table “Need you to be sharp and who knows what is in that”

Lynn was about to before pointing out a grey robed man out approached the stage, the crowd of curfew breakers parting before him, the band died down before dying completely

“Brothers and Sisters ! Welcome to my humble abode, how are the drinks ?” a clammer of raised glasses and jeers rang out throughout the warehouse

“Better than the piss you will find here” snorted the man “But The Family offers much more than mere booze and party favours, we offer a meaningful purpose to anyone from anywhere, tell your friends, tell your families we are open to anyone!

The crowd began to cheer again before the man raised his hand for silence

“Now, now enjoy the rest of the night and I hope to see you at the next meeting, Rejoice my Children the Time of Fire is upon us.”

The crowd began to get rowdy again, spurned on by the robed figure’s words, Mason grabbed Lynn by the wrist

“Let’s go, now”

Shuffling through the crowd Mason got to the doors just in time to see the man standing in front of them both, flanked by men in grey carapace armor

“My friends, is something wrong ? The drinks not to your taste perhaps ?”

“My head hurts a little, need a breath of fresh air” bluffed Mason who moved his hand to the hilt of his sword that was concealed under his trench coat

“Well I wish you the best of health and to see you next time, it will be a meeting not to be missed”

“Of course” bowed Mason quickly blitzing past the robed man and away from the docklands.

Mason didn’t look back until he was well into the swerving, narrow paths that cut through the slums, Lynn running after him

“What was that ?” panted Lynn as the duo slowed to a stroll

“Must have been the cult, The Family or some gak, you see the guards ?”

“Yeah, why ?” quizzed Lynn

“Swore I saw th-” Mason spun on his heels and rammed his power sword into the gut of a man in grey carapace armor with a raised knife in hand and a face stricken with shock and pain. A pair of hands grabbed Lynn from behind, dragging her backwards. Lynn rocked her head backwards and it found the man’s chin, his grip loosened, Lynn drove her heel backwards into the man’s groin before delivering a brutal assault on the assailant’s exposed head with her ravenous boot until a satisfying crunch reached her ears. A gentle hand touched her shoulder, Lynn frightened and determined not to be caught off guard again spun to strike before locking eyes with an alarmed Mason, power sword still drawn and it’s energy field still pulsating

“You alright ?” inquired Mason

“I’m fine” snapped Lynn, annoyed she had been caught off guard

“In anycase, they share the same tattoo’s that Spencer had found, this cult is hunting you and your buddies” spotted Mason, sidestepping the temperamental state Lynn was it.

“Don’t you mean us ? They are hunting us”

“Right they are hunting us” corrected Mason as he reached down and produced a scrap of paper which merely read “Loose lips sink ships, silence the twin rogues”

“Well, it seems we have made an impression” joked Mason but Lynn wasn’t in the mood and just grunted

“What do we do about the bodies ? The sisters are gonna go crazy at the sight of a fight, after curfew no less”

Mason shrugged and began removing on the assailants armor, trying it on over his own.
A puzzled Lynn looked on “What are you doing ?”

“Grab that one’s armor, something tells me it will come in handy”

“Why ? Ugh looks like this one pissed himself” complained Lynn

“Well you did put your boot through his skull, and besides I feel like this ain’t over, no this is just the beginning”



Crusade of Fury 2: Second Sun  @ 2017/05/18 16:43:59


Post by: Sgt_Smudge


Harland was not happy about returning to the grove. A slug pistol hung heavy on his lap, and the dull whirring of the Devilfish he sat on attempted to lull him into a sense of serenity. It wasn't working. He was tense, paranoid, alert - like every other Gue'vesa in the contingent.
From his position aboard the exterior hull of the Devilfish, he kept an eye on the other troopers on the hulls of the convoy. Without exception, they were all Gue'vesa and Kroot, all wielding slug weaponry - most of it borrowed from Tiller allies. Most of the troopers had no idea why their standard weaponry had been confiscated: Harland knew the real reason. He understood it, and even sanctioned it himself. It was an imperative.

Following their return to the outpost at the Jorgan River, Shas'Vre Ria'rak had given a full report to Mirrorstone: nothing of note within the jungles, except the clearing. The commander had seemed curious from the Tau's report, and she wasted no time in sating that curiosity. Scant two days after their return from the grove, Mirrorstone herself was leading an investigation into the location, accompanied by most of the taskforce's military might, and several tonnes of explosives. She had made a point of taking most of the human and Kroot auxiliaries with her: they were known to be receptive to "psychic" suggestion, unlike her kind. However, this came at a restriction. Given Ria'rak's report, and even Harland's own opinion, Mirrorstone decided to demilitarise the auxiliary troops, in case of a manic episode. As sceptical as she was, Mirrorstone was not an idiot. Harland didn't like the decision, but it had to be done. It was the safest option. An imperative for Sunstrike.

The convoy of Devilfish formed up around the clearing, and Mirrorstone began to deploy the excavation drones. Equipped with sonic destabilisers, they weakened the earth, allowing for faster excavation. The rest of the force kept watch around the edge, guns trained; the Crisis Suits stood sentinel over their brethren, flamers and airburst launchers ready to shred the entire forest away if needed; recon drones led regular sorties out into the edges of the forest. Nothing came back. For the entire day, the only sound was the muttering of soldiers, the moving of earth, and the hum of Devilfish engines. Once the drones were ten metres deep, Mirrorstone ordered a halt. There was nothing at all below the grove, and no kind of spectral scanning brought up results either. Grumbling, the Tau began to clamber back into their transports. The Kroot and Gue'vesa were chattier than they had been before - finding nothing had eased their spirits somewhat. Satisfied with her work, Mirrorstone called for them to return back, and a squadron of Sun Shark Bombers to destroy the clearing completely. As they headed back, Mirrorstone halted the convoy. They slowed to a stop. The Gue'vesa and Kroot, exposed on the hulls, readied their weaponry.

"Troops, the bombers have sighted a pillar of smoke two kilometres from our location. We're investigating."
Her command bolted the cadre to life, and the hunt was on. The thick trees suddenly gave way to rough-cut huts and streets. A Ork shanty-town, judging from the crude markings on the buildings. That, and the streets littered with corpses. Blackened by fire, both the greenskins and their homes lay wasted and ruined, without a sign of life.
"Fan out. Find what did this." Mirrorstone was curt, wasting no time to batter into a burnt out shopfront. She kicked aside half-melted tools and scrap, heedless of the ash that fell on her shoulders. The other troopers moved through the ruins, careful to keep an eye on the bodies, in case one stirred to life.

Half an hour into the searches, a Kroot sauntered up to Mirrorstone. His hands and knees were covered in the ash from rooting around in the decrepit buildings, and he gave a slight nod of recognition before he spoke.
"Me and my pack found nothing, Fio'El," he declared. "Nothing alive, at least. These were feral, not one of the tribes we assimilated. No traces of what attacked them either. No blast wounds or bullet holes, no shells, no shrapnel, not even oil or promethium."
"Nothing at all? They just all combusted?"
"I doubt that's the case, Sub-Commander. There's just no leads to anything. Not even the psychic disturbance we felt at the grove. Whatever it was that did happen here, the Be'gel didn't stand a chance."

Mirrorstone was about to dismiss the Kroot when Harland rounded a corner, and shouted her over. She shot the Kroot a disapproving look, and walked over to Harland. In the Pathfinder's arms, there was a Gretchin, small and green and clawing at his armour. Harland grabbed the creature by the arms, and held it up by the scruff of its sackcloth rags.
"Found this one hiding in a latrine. It'd rather not say how I found it." Mirrorstone did her best not to notice Harland's untucked shirt and rolled up sleeves, and addressed the orkoid in Low Gothic.

"Can you understand-"
"Zog off, ya f-" Harland yanked the gretchin's collar, and it bit its lip, snarling.
"Good." Mirrorstone smiled briefly. "What happened here?"
"I don't zoggin' know!" He squealed and thrashed in Harland's grip. "I was clearin' da latrines, I was, den they was all burnin' up and I just hid, like my gran'granpappy said!"
Mirrorstone sighed. "You didn't see anything?"
"Well, I saw sum'fink red in the woods over there- red eyes. Eyes they were!"

The Sub-Commander reviewed her options. The sun was going down, and they had nothing to gain from staying. The outpost wasn't far away - if they were being hunted, defending the outpost would be safer than this village.
"Mirrorstone to Cadre - mount up. We have what we need. We're going straight back to the outpost at Jorgan River. Devilfish form up on me. We leave in two."
She took the Gretchin off of Harland, and raised it to her face.
"What's your name, Gretchin?"
"I'm-I'm Tekkit, Tekkit da-"
"Welcome to Sunstrike Cadre, Tekkit." She cut the Gretchin off, and dropped it into the storage compartment in her Crisis Suit. Harland looked at her questioningly. "He's a witness. We'll stick him on lookout or something. He might earn his keep. And besides, we took you in the Cadre too, human."

Harland took a moment to realise she was joking.