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General Broadcast, cross-Crusade comms.
Contacting...
Contacting...
Contact made.

Acting-Captain Hadris Aurelius, of the Ultramarines Chapter, delivering status report.

Sandfall was a huge victory, my lords.
We lured the vanguard of the greenskin forces into engagement. Skulkrusha led at the front of his trukk convoy on his Battlewagon, before we cut him off with Drop Pod reinforcements, designated Steel Rain. The greenskin vanguard was pulled further into our collapsing battleline, taking casualties until we were able to systematically destroy them. My Honour Guard is personally responsible for defeating three Ork mobs in close-quarters combat. Minutes after initial contact was made, Tau forces joined the Ork vanguard, consisting of a small Hunter cadre, approximately two squads of infantry, an XV104 Riptide-class battlesuit and stealth specialists. Our 1st Company reserves dealt with the escalating threat admirably, tying down the Riptide and slaughtering Fire Warriors with bolt and blade.

Warboss Skulkrusha fought hard, and he claimed the lives of many of my closest brothers. Indeed, I strugged to face the beast myself, losing my blade and most likely my life, had it not been for the sacrifice of my Legate, Hyperion. The Beast is dead. Waaagh! Skulkrusha is defeated, and we are commencing extermination protocols on the remnants of his fleeing horde.

I offer his head to Lord Marshall Karak, a payment of honour and blood, for the paragon blade of my forebears, so that it may once again be held by the azure fists of the Ultramarines. I shall come aboard your flagship, the Eternal Crusader, myself, to retrieve the relic.

However, it has not all been success. My strikeforce took heavy losses, with casualty report attached as follows:

Full Casualty Report
Tactical Squad Vorolanus: 1 dead, 9 wounded.
Tactical Squad Solinus: 2 dead, 1 wounded.
Tactical Squad Octavian: 6 dead, 4 wounded.
Assault Squad Ixion: 5 dead, 5 wounded.
Devastator Squad Tirian: 3 wounded.
Sternguard Veteran Squad Dramorian: 1 dead, 4 wounded.
Terminator Squad Vitruvilus: 2 dead, 3 wounded.
Honour Guard: 1 dead, 1 wounded.

Summary
Casualties: 49%
Fatalities: 28%
Unhurt: 23%

As you can see, we will require replenishment as soon as possible and medical facilities, but rest easy, Lord General. Sandfall is taken, opening up the Central/Western front for fresh troops.

In light of my success, my Chapter Master, Lord Calgar, has deemed my requests as worthy of receipt. He has pledged the Battle Barge Rath's Honour and an additional Strike Cruiser, Ultramar Fidelis to our roster, to assist with the Crusade fleet, alongside a squad of Terminator veterans and Chaplain to supplement Strikeforce Praetoria.

May the crusade continue!

E'er your servant,
Acting-Captain Hadris Aurelius.

Ceased transmission.

TO STRIKE FORCE PRATORIA CAPTAIN
FROM EMPERORS VENGEANCE.. STRIKE FORCE HAMMER

Greetings captain, your success has been noted and as promised the Sword in question will be returned to your chapter once more as agreed. Lord Marshall Karak bids me say that you have brought Honour to Chapter and your kin.

The fleet location has been sent to you with this message, we are orbiting a small system, mostly feral orks, minor resistance at best. system is safe for arrival.

Lord Karak will give you the Blade during a short ceramoney aboard the Battle Barges main chapel and your men are invited.

May Dorn bless your crusade,

Brother SGT Tangir, comm officer and equarry to Lord Marshall Karak.

Hammer out.

He did, it, that Ultramarine risked everything to get the blade, and now more of his kin come, He's young, impulsive and desperate to prove his worth to his captain. Cato Sicarous, the fething Ultramarine who left us to die on that crusade, the Codex did support reinforcing our advance, blood, guts and sacrafice won that battle, and he tried to claim the fething credit. if he was coming....

The Marshall was angry, past events had a habit of rearing there ugly head if you did not take theirs. if only that he knew what had he faced, he would not be so quick to judge, Chaos, Orks, Drak eldar. worst the living metal, ever more waves of metal that repaired, limbs re knitted to bodies, weapons where useless, Vargos had served with him since his first crusade, they had faced the worst the galaxy had, the last original two, veterans of the long crusade.

but first he would call upon his brothers, the sons of dorn would come in strength,.

Meanwhile, on Gallor Prime...

The peaceful night had been rudely disturbed by an explosion, which had reduced most of the top floors of nobleman Gerion's private estates to piles of rubble. Somewhere, on the 22nd floor (now technically the top floor, as the four above it had more or less disintegrated), several individuals in combat gear starting picking themselves up from the floor.

"Well, that went better than expected" , noted operative Madz as he popped his dislocated shoulder back into place. He was a lively fellow, who was also eternally optimistic, much to the chagrin of those unfortunate to work with him. He was also the reason the building was on fire.

"You mean aside from the building partially collapsing on top of us?", grunted operative Chef, who pushed a large drawer off of him, which very nearly landed on operative Scarecrow.

"Watch what you're doing!" Scarecrow replied angrily, the ragged figure hastily ducking out of the way of the incoming drawer. "And you..." Scarecrow pointed at Madz, his finger trembling with barely-restrained fury, "If I get my hands on you I swear-"

"Cut it out, Scarecrow", spoke a voice coming from behind a turned-over desk. Operative Snake, the team's leader, coughed as he picked himself from the floor. He wiped some dust off his shoulder, scratched his beard, and did a quick head count. "Where's Bolt?"

Only then did Scarecrow notice the unconscious individual lying face-down on the floor next to him. He gave it a soft kick, rolling the body over. "He's here Boss. Feth, I think he's out cold."

"Well, guess someone's going to have to carry him then", Snake replied wearily. He was getting too old for stunts like these. Entering the estate from the rooftops had been easy enough, but handing Madz the grenades right before they breached the nobleman's private offices had proven to be a tactical miscalculation. Command was going to be pissed.

"Hey, I'm still missing as well!" exclaimed a voice coming from under a pile of debris. Operative Pyro burst through the debris, looking rather dazed as he sat upright.

"You're saying that as if we'd actually miss you", replied Scarecrow, the snarky remark followed by amused grunts from the others.

"Well excuuuuseee meee, princess, but if I remember correctly, I actually found the data we'd been looking for", Pyro declared proudly, the glasses of his gasmask twinkling with glee.

"Aye. The info on the Vault. Would have never guessed it'd be behind one of those fancy tapestries hanging around", Chef admitted. He was already preparing the vox unit on his back to send the data to their superiors in orbit.

"Yeah, we'd never have found them if you hadn't burned everything to the ground, Pyro", Scarecrow said sarcastically, as he dusted off his trusty sniper rifle. "I'm not even going to ask what you were planning on doing with a flamethrower on a stealth mission in the first place."

"Enough, everyone. Let's just send the data and head to the rendezvous point. Wouldn't want the guard to catch us up here, would we?" Snake said, as he lifted Bolt over his shoulder and started making his way to the exit.

"I think it's safe to assume Asag took care of that already, given his track record", Madz added. "I mean, hell, you try stopping 'em!", he joked, only earning a grin from Pyro for the remark.

The rest of the team picked their scattered gear off the floor and followed Snake towards the ornate stairwell, Chef communicating with Command as they did so.

"The Vault is deep within the bowels of Hive Tartarus, estimated at least 2 kilometres below the surface. Apparently, the Mechanicus once dug a mighty big tunnel down there, but they ran back out with their tails between their legs once they got there. Mentioned something about some evil force that defied all reason. The governor apparently didn't believe it that much, so the tunnel's only been partially collapsed. Given enough time and resources, one could get there within a week or two, I reckon. I'm sending you the specifics as we speak", Chef spoke, his deep voice the only sound apart from the team's hurried footsteps as they descended the stairwell.

"Why did we need that info anyway Boss?", Pyro asked. "I mean, it's not like we're going to open that Vault, right Boss?"

"Yeah, but we need to make sure no-one else gets any funny ideas. Command doesn't want anyone snooping around down there, especially not those Ork gits or those other spiky marines." Snake replied, breathing heavily. Bolt really had to cut down on those candy bars, his weight was becoming a burden faster than Snake'd liked.

"Oh. Sounds mighty scary though, that Vault. If those metal lads even think it ain't good, then it's really gotta be somethin' bad", Pyro continued.

Snake sighed. Although he hated to admit it, Pyro was right. His superiors had been rather tight-lipped about what could be in there, and that was usually a clear sign of bad, bad stuff going down. He just hoped Command knew what they were doing.

Or else there were going to be some very, very bad days ahead of them.

The cruiser Hand of the Allchosen was, in truth, one of the less impressive ships in the Glacier Serpents armada. Its weapons, armour and speed were all highly average, and the only thing that made it stand out in its great fleet was its sheer unremarkability.
Now, it was deprived even of that.

Of course, its remarkability was who it carried, not the ship itself.

Inside the halls of the Hand, two warriors who would have hated each other if they only had any hate to spare stood together, silently observing one another. One was Kharaxx, a Space Marine clad in gore-soaked and spiked armour, multiple horns on his helmet, and a large axe in the shape of a screaming daemonic face fastened to his belt. A combi-melta was placed on his back, and opposite to the axe rested a surprisingly simple-looking knife. Observing him was Sharikh, the master Sorcerer clad in armour of the same white colour, yet which seemed to display the entire spectrum if looked at too long; indeed, its very shape became fuzzy and unclear, akin to a poorly taken image. Instead of several thinner horns, a pair of larger horns adorned his helmet, though he was not wearing it - instead he revealed his smooth face, with intelligent eyes, short grey hair and a grey soul patch that made him look extremely devious despite his age. He had a simple sheathed pistol accompanied by a sword, its shape hidden by its sheath.

Kharaxx, too, removed his helmet after a while, revealing a face with a short beard that gave a stocky impression, with a powerful jaw and a scalp entirely devoid of hair. His armour displayed gruesome daemonic faces seemingly mutated into his armour, yet made of metal rather than tainted flesh, but the man himself displayed emotions that were neither rage nor calm; confident wariness that was empowered by self-belief but watchful for betrayal. His eyes were fixated on Sharikh, who returned an expression that was not spiteful but could easily have been with the slightest change.

In this heavy silence, Kharaxx's title of 'the Raging Whirlwind' seemed perhaps unfitting, at least for those who had not seen his way of fighting, but every title - impressed or scornful - assigned to Sharikh continued to suit him just perfectly.

Kharaxx spoke first.

'Sorcerer, you tell me that there are other warriors of Chaos in the west. Tell me this, then. Why do they linger behind Ork lines? Why don't they slip through and strike the Imperial forces from behind?'

Sharikh returned a snake-like look. 'Because they are warriors of Chaos. They consider a billion Orks worth less than one of them.'

'Are they wrong?'

'Have you ever mourned the loss of an Ork?'

'I have not mourned the loss of any on our side, either.'

Sharikh nodded slowly. 'Indeed. Yet the Orks are not why we are here. These other Chaos Space Marines here... They are an uncertainty. Lord Kraxis doesn't like uncertainties. Neither do I.'

Kharaxx cracked his neck. 'I can't disagree with that. I may be a man of the axe, but even I would like to attack the enemy, not an... ally.'

'If they turn out to be allies.'

'If indeed.'

Sharikh pointed to the holographic sector map before them. 'The Imperials are pushing forward, but they risk overextension. If their line breaks, it may buckle in and collapse, and they may lose more than they gained to begin with. After the transport relocation, you know that the others spread out to wait in other points in the sector, but my... skills... were deemed necessary for this specific mission. And yours. If things go wrong, I imagine.'

Kharaxx stroked his chin with gore-stained fingers. 'You have still not explained why you left your coven on the Revenge. The others have mortal psykers for communication.'

'Because those we seek most likely have Sorcerers of their own. Masking my own Warp-signature is child's play, but the more of us there are, the greater the risk that they detect us. And we most certainly wish to to remain unseen until we are ready to talk.'

'So what do you think will happen? Pact or blood?'

'I don't know, Kharaxx. Their warband is not known to me. But if I were to guess, I would say both.'

Kharaxx only grunted to that.

The Hand continued on.

On the Planet of Trisburg in the snow covered capital city of Bovengrad

All the Faustian company commanders gathered in the Lord Governor’s grandiose war tent. Commissar Gavor looked at his pocket watch that he drew from his coat, he spoke to the other commanders in a voice of annoyance “He’s late… again.” Gavor was a skinny pale man, renown more for his wroth than tactical expertise. Lord Commissar Jack Sheppard grinned as he looked over to his ward Cadet Commissar Jethro Alenko, “Two things you must learn from this lad, first being patients” Gavor glared at the lord Commissar displeased at the slight. The Cadet Commissar who was not a day past seventeen asked “and the second?” Sheppard spoke wisely “Don’t keep your subordinates waiting it inspires contempt among pettier men.” The room grew silent as they continued to wait for the Lord Governor.

The officers stood mostly idle, they were already well aware of the plan to take out the last portion of the ork resistance. The tallest most intimidating presence was Sandor Braddock “The Hound” standing a whopping 6 feet 9 inches, the entire left half of his face was scared and burned, his left eye was a milky white useless but intimidating. He wore his company’s forest green carapace armor with black steel trim, it was similar in design to the armor worn by by the scions of the Militarum Tempestus. It would be hard to distinguish Tom Reiner from one the men of his company, he wore the same simple flack armor his company wore, olive green armor with the usual drab fatigues, his right shoulder was black with the red and white Faustian blood stripe as was worn by all Faustian infantry, the only thing that made the bearded man identifiable as a commander was the bars on his jacket. Lastly were the two legendary Faustian knights. Knight captain Petra Zorah was a dark skinned dark hair woman, her complexion flawless other than a scar that ran along right check. Her armor was ornate yet was well designed for combat, the plate mail was painted with a white matte coat, while the trimming remained black, she also bore the Faustian blood stripe. Knight Captain Garrod Vakarius was a dashing individual, his short black hair matched the jet black armor he wore, the armor was trimmed in red to emphasize the blood stripe.

Another five minutes passed even the servitors in the room seemed annoyed at the tardiness. Commissar Sheppard was about to say something but as he opened his mouth they could hear the loud boisterous laughter of the infamous Hannibal Pavus. Hannibal entered the tent from the snow outside. Hannibal was average in his build not particularly special in that regard. His hair was short and black only the slightest hint of gray protruded from his scalp. What made the lord governor more than common in appearance was what he wore. He wore a suit of master crafted power armor, it was the same shade of matte green that the first company wore. Above the armor Hannibal was cloaked in the furs of a creature that closely resembled a white bear. Atop his head was a wide brimmed hat with a brass Aquila along its rim. In his mouth was a large cigar that could be smelt from the neighboring tent.

The Lord Governor entered the tent laughing chatting to the two woman he had around his arms, “Ah you ladies should have seen me at Loidiaol IV, I personally slew the foul green skin war lord in single combat with a mighty blow from my power sword. Isn’t that right Braddock” The carapace clad hound spoke masking his frustration “Aye lord”. The woman on the left arm of the Governor was a blond haired native she seemed thrilled to be in the governor’s presence or at least successfully feigning excitement. While the woman on right was a short haired brunette who Commissar Sheppard recognized as colonel Liliana Tsari, she seemed less thrilled at the situation in fact she seemed wholly disgusted. Commissar Sheppard spoke “Excuse me my lord this meeting is for command personal only and Miss Tsari needs to return to her duties.” Hannibal sighed “Very well,” he than turned his head and yelled “RUCK!” Commissar Sheppard spoke to Liliana “You are dismissed colonel” The soldier seemed relieved as she spoke “Yes Lord thank you Lord” she quickly stepped out of the man’s hold and exited the tent. Replacing the colonel was a large ogryn clad in a carapace matching the Governor’s. Hannibal spoke “Ruck escort miss ehm… Maria?” the lady spoke “Anita” Pavus shook his head “Ahh of course, Ruck please escort miss Anita to my personal quarters, I will join you after the battle.” The large brute shook his head and spoke “Dis way mam”. The governor watched the woman leave and turned around to his officers “What are we waiting for begin the council”

Lord Commissar Sheppard stepped forward to the map. “As you know we have liberated the city, few pockets of orks remain in the slums but they are completely unorganized, I have dispatched squads of my men with flamers to purge the area. The orks do retain a stronghold here in the Kaytash valley, they are surprisingly well fortified. So sending waves of men would be suicide. The mouth of the valley is sealed by the ork’s junk wall and orks patrol the pathway up. So our only hope is to lure the orks out.” Pavus repositioned the cigar in his mouth “and how do you propose we do that.” Commissar stepped forward “My mud dogs are entrenched nearby the gate, the orks are aware of their presence but are restraining from assaulting, even savages know not to stick their nose where it hurts. orks being the vile blood thirsty creatures they are will abandon their fort to engage my men in close combat if they fear they might escape. So I will order them to retreat from their trenches when the orks see this they will give pursuit. When they begin their assault the mounted division will storm the orks left and right flanks crushing them in a wall of steel and lead. while the orks are distracted my men will detonate the walls, then the 1st 7th and 11th will storm the fortress my 8th will lay in reserve if need be.” Hannibal smiled “This is a beautiful plan. The glorious Faustian knights will ride in to save the day. Then the Lord rides in to finish the foul xenos, this will be the stuff of legends.” Commissar Sheppard spoke “Lord Pavus we are unsure how strong the orks resistance will be, I must advise you not to accompany the troops.” Hannibal laughed “Nonsense, I didn’t buy all this armor just to look good.” Sheppard shrugged “Very well there are a few matters still left to discuss.”

Mlock is your typical goff shoota, he had spent the last few days monitoring the omies taking futile potshots against the entrenched enemy. Mlock was fed up with all the waiting he hated seeing an enemy who was in charging range that he could not engage. Boss EadBasha had orderd them left alone for now, saying that “We Can’t afford to lose any more boyz dat we don’t need to” as Mlock scanned the horizon his mate Toofbust cam to his side “What dem boyz up ta.” Mlock said as he looked through the spy glass “Noffin der just sitten there, like lame gitz.” Toofbust spat “Boss haz gone soft, doze boyz are just askin to ger stomped and we’z just here doing nuffing.” Mlock laughed “Mayhaps it be time fer a new warboss.” Just than Mlock saw it through the rusted spyglass the human infantry were exiting there trenches and running away from Dakka Valley. Mlock dropped the glass and yelled at his friend with excitement, “quickly der a runnin sound da horn and meet me at da buggy!” Toofbust ran to the massive beast’s horn and blew into it, the massive bellow signaling the entire camp into action.

Private Gaspard Vorvan was running for his life, behind him he could hear Commissar Gavor shouting “Move, Move, Move!” and behind that he could hear the revving of primitive ork vehicles. He ran hearing gravel crunch under his boot. The orks were closing in the vehicles were louder and began taking shots at the fleeing Fusiliers. What terrified Gaspard more than the sound of encroaching ork trukks was the noise the engines were masking. Behind the trukks were hordes of orks eager to meet their prey. After a few more seconds of sprinting the orks barrage of fire made contact with the rear most guardsmen, private Scabby was hit falling face down in front of Gaspard, Gaspard leapt over his falling comrade and continued running without looking back. Dozens of more troopers fell as they ran than finally the Commissar bellowed “Flares!” Gaspard was one of the men who was randomly assigned a flare gun, he drew it from his coat and fired it into the air.

Knight Captain Petra Zorah sat atop her steed, the creature wore matching white armor plates. In her right hand she held a power halberd, her left hand was equipped with a wrist mounted multi weapon, it was auto a pistol gauntlet with flamer built into its palm, at her side she had a simple long sword. Her Knights were similarly equipped except instead of a power halberd and long sword they had black steel lances and chain swords. Than Petra saw the green flare pierce the cloud covered winter sky. She affixed her half helm to her head the visor blocking her eyes leaving her mouth and neck visible. She raised her halberd to the sky and shouted “Forward Light Brigade.”

The orks were only moments away from being upon Gaspard and the 8th Fusiliers. Commissar gavor bellowed “Company, HOLD!” a few men continued running and the commissar shot them in the back with his bolt pistol, he shouted “Desertism will not be tolerated!” The orks buggies and trucks would be on them in a few seconds the ork horde behind them in a few minutes. The Commissar yelled “Affix bayonets.” The phrase scared private Gaspard he had seen the fury of ork melee he knew fighting them on these terms would be a death sentence. The blade snapped into its position on the end of the las gun. Gavor shouted as he raised his sword “Full charge and Take aim” he slashed the air in front of him “Fire!” Gaspard fired at the nearest ork trukk, thanks to the combined effort of several guardsmen they managed to hit something critical on the ork vehicle possible the driver. The ramshackle truck swerved into the one closest to it. However, few of the other guardsmen found this much success. The orks hit their lines vehicles reaching their top speed. The impact of a single truck killed almost a dozen guardsmen who were not quick enough dodge the ork vehicle. The orks began offloading from their crude transports engaging the Fusiliers. Commissar Gavor began firing his bolt pistol and slashing at the orks with his power sword, energy cutting through orks like warm butter. As Gaspard plunged his new spear like weapon into the chest of a ork, he looked to ahead to see the massive ork mob only twenty feet away. A dual wielding nob sliced at a group of guardsmen near Gaspard killing eight of them in a matter of five swings. Gaspard closed his eyes and prepared to meet his fate, when a trumpet sounded.

When Gaspard opened his eyes he saw to his right the Light Brigade in their white armor kill scores of orks when their ranks clashed, to his left he saw the Black Riders washing over the orks like a black tide. The orks heading for them lost interest in the 8th and decided to engage the Knights. The nob that was headed for Gaspard was cut off by Commisar Gavor. While the nob was at least four feet taller than the commissar and four times stronger than the commissar, Gavor was able to parry the behemoths blows. But than the nob caught the Gavor slicing the hand that wielded the sword clear off bellow the elbow. Gavor lay on the ground as the nob approached him. Gaspard snuck behind the ork and stuck his bayonet into the back of the creatures knee. The ork screamed in pain, the distraction was enough to give the commissar a chance to draw his bolt pistol and fire the remainder of the clip into the nob’s chest. The nob fell to the floor Gavor using the last burst of energy he had to roll out of the crashing creatures path.

Knight Captain Petra Zorah and her men were decimating the orks taking virtually no casualties, only the lumbering ork nobs proved to be any form of challenge for the knights. One nob equipped with a large polearm weapon whose head was a circular saw. The creature single handedly killed seven of Knights, as Knight captain avenging them was her job alone. Petra shouted “You and me ork, stand and deliver.” The nob smiled he looked to the ork boyz behind him “Dis one iz mind touch em and you die” Petra dismounted from her horse and twirled her Halbred. Soon a ring formed around the two, orks know nothing of honor but they do understand the importance of single combat. Most of the orks and knights fought around in combat but members of both sides stopped fighting to watch the duel. The Nob charged the knight captain swinging the big choppa straight down but Petra used the pole of her halberd to block the strike. With the butt of the big choppa the nob struck Petra’s helm sending it the edge of the ring. The Knight charged the nob brushing off the wound. The two continued the dance of swings blocks and dodges, until the nob swung straight down striking the dirt. Petra saw the opportunity and didn’t hesitate to take the advantage. With her halberd she struck the nob at the back of the neck severing its head. All the orks on the battle field felt the nobs passing some orks fled back to their lair after that.

The orks who foolishly left their fortress were all dead or fled back to the valley. The lord governor took the field with the 1st company command squad. The command squad was eccentric and impractical to say the least, they two flag bearers, a standard bearer, a mascot handler and a band complete with trumpets, drums, flutes, and bagpipes. A flag for the planet Faust, a banner for all the worlds in the Faustian system, a flag for the Faust’s finest. The company mascot was a Faustian sheep dog he wore a vest decorated in medals and the regimental insignia. With them were all the regiment commanders except for Commissar Gavor, it was still unclear weather or he’ll survive his injury. Sheppard was distressed over the possible loss of commissar Gavor, he didn’t particularly like the man but he bare a moderate level of respect for him, plus he was vital to the success of his regiment, while they were fine soldiers the bitter reality of the matter was they are peasant troops, the noble lord governor would demand a commissar to keep them in line. He may ask that he’d promote Cadet Alenko to the head the company, but he knew that was not the day’s concern. Sheppard Looked to the lord governor “My Lord my Paragons and Reiner’s Ruffians will lead the charge you and the 1st will follow in after.” Hannibal laughed atop his white armored stallion “Lord Commissar Me and my men will be leading this charge you and Reiner may join us if you wish” Hannibal than turned his attention to Knight Captain Zorah, “Knight Captain I formally invite you to join my command squad on this siege, and act as one of my personal body guards” The plate coated woman put her fist to her chest and said “You honor me lord.” Hannibal smiled as he lit a fresh cigar “excellent the siege will start in five minutes.” He blew a puff of smoke from his nostrils before he spoke “Yes today will be a glorious day.” The lord governor than rode off to speak with other members of the 1st who were sons of his noble friends.

Commissar Sheppard smiled as he looked to “You’re honored to babysit the most chauvinistic womanizer on the planet”. Petra laughed “Is that jealousy I hear from you Jack.” Sheppard grinned, the two had been in secret courtship with one and other since the end of there last crusade together, which was rather ironic as their personalities often clashed, the commissar being a puckish tactician and the Knight Captain being the honorable warrior. Sheppard smiled “Keep the man safe or Lady Pavus will have my head.” Zorah chuckled “Or she might knight you” Sheppard laughed she than rode off to meet Pavus.

Pavus held the detonator in his metallic glove. To his right was The equally mounted knight Commander Zorah, her helm would need repair so she did not wear it. To Hannibal’s left stood his Ogryn body guard Ruck. Beneath them all was Braddock the scarred man held the company standard in his left hand and a power sword in his right, with a plasma pistol mag clipped to his belt. Hannibal smiled as his thumb flipped the case open and pressed down on the detonator. The Junk barricade exploded and began crumpling down. The band began playing the charge cadence, and all the men of Faust began the assault.

Hannibal and his retinue entered the mouth of the valley with the second wave, the first wave had been a large combi task force of the Paragons and Ruffians, the detachment of Mud Dogs that had placed the bombs were swept into the assault. Blocking off their escape forcing them join the assault into the stronghold, one of these lucky individuals was Private Gaspard Vorvan. Gaspard was pinned down taking massive shoota fire. Next to him was a corporal from the paragons and a private from the ruffians. Across from him was Captain Tom Reiner barking commands as he fired blindly over cover “Return fire.” It was that Hannibal and the first came came storming in. Their hot shot las guns quickly began pushing the orks back from their defenses. Hannibal came trotting in atop his great white steed, his retinue in tow. The sight of the grandiose honor guard sickened the weary battle fatigued Gaspard, his friends had paid with their lives to get this far and he came with flags and musicians to steal the glory they fought for. He sat with his back to the cover drenched in mud and sweat laughing quietly at the insult. Sheppard removed his coat to cover the dead guardsmen next to him, he looked to the laughing trooper and pitied him, The Mud Dogs, had the hardest lot in the Faustian legions. Hannibal paid the trooper no mind instead turning his attention to Sheppard. “Ah Lord Commissar come here I desire to commemorate this moment with a photo. Sheppard fetched his trench coat from the dead trooper, and covered him with the dead man’s own jacket. Sheppard didn’t want to stop for a picture but Hannibal was unbearable if he didn’t get his way so Sheppard called “Cadet Alenko front and center!” The blue uniformed cadet Spoke “Aye lord pic recorder ready” The group moved over to a large nob’s corpse and positioned themselves for the picture. The cadet counted down and the recorder flashed.

As the battle continued they pushed deeper into the valley, Hannibal grew bored and demanded that they move to the front. Orks were lashing out at the imperials with extra desperation. A single ork managed to flank the party and charged at Hannibal Ruck grabbed the creature by its face and slammed it into the earth than crushing the creature with his massive boot. Hannibal never drew his weapon merely watching and smoking as the ork’s fire deflected off from his horse’s rosarius. Than from the rear they heard a roar.

Boss EadBasha came with his mob of nobs from the darkness of the cavern. EadBasha was carrying a large power klaw in each hand, like a lycanthrope he put his hands to his side and bellowed “WAAAGH!” his nobs came charging into the advancing imperials. Hannibal drew his ornate plasma pistol firing at orks hitting nothing. Braddock planted the standard into the dirt and drew his pistol with his newly free hand, he than counter charged the orks with the boldest of his men. Ruck with a flurry of punches and head-butts. Sheppard shouted at his men to set their weapon for full charge and fire at the nobs. Petra dismounted from her horse and twirled her Halberd, as she approached the War Boss. The ork was uncannily fast, Petra tried to block with the pole of her halberd but the ork clamped down on the center of the staff snapping it in two. Petra fired a burst of flame from her gauntlet forcing the ork to dodge the burst of flame. She drew her long sword. She than used the pistol function of the gauntlet to fire a round at the ork but the creature just ignored the hits. The creature charged at Petra swinging his klaws, Petra struggled to block the blows. The ork than knocked the long sword away and prepared to make the final blow.

Out of nowhere Commissar Sheppard came swinging with his chain sword. The blade made contact with the elbow of the ork Sheppard revved the weapon and severed the beast’s arm. But with the other klaw the war boss grabbed Sheppard and hoisted him in the air. Petra with the broken head of her halberd struck the ork’s exposed throat. The war boss released Commissar Sheppard and clutched his gaping throat wound with his klaw. The ork keeled over and died, Braddock had plunged his sword into the last nob and at that moment the orks lost their foot hold on this world.

Cadet Commissar Jethro Alenko rushed to Commissar Sheppard, he spoke “Lord Sheppard are you all right” Sheppard groaned from the ground “yup, I’m good.” Sheppard stood up and knocked off the dirt from his coat unsuccessfully.

That night the entire planet celebrated. There were still orks on the planet but they were hiding and fighting among themselves, Trisburg was free. Music rang throughout the capital, Faustian military bands played festive tunes. All around the capital troopers raised both the Aquila and the icon of the Faustian Bear. Commissar Sheppard had snuck away from the officer’s festivities to a bar near the slums of the city, to rendezvous with Petra. They sat all night in the bar drinking. Sheppard spoke raising his bottle “Here’s to Commissar Gavor” Petra toasted as well “The meanest blighter on Faust.” Petra asked “Will he live?” Sheppard took a sip and spoke “He’s still not out of the woods yet, but the doctors have high hopes, he’s going to need a replacement arm.” Petra spoke “Praise the emperor” Sheppard nodded, the smile left his face as he spoke “You saved me today.” Petra smiled “Please had it not been for you that ork would have run me through.” Sheppard spoke without humor “I must admit a part of me despises Hannibal for putting you there.” Petra laughed “I think he likes me, is all” Sheppard spoke “I can’t imagine why.” She punched Sheppard “you ass.” Sheppard looked deeply at Petra something about her made him not want to fight, while simultaneously inspiring him to fight harder. The two laughed and spent the entire night drinking, this would be the only rest they will get in a long time.

Those Faustian companies seem like pretty cool guys!

As for the staff, The Remants currently possess it; although that might not be for much longer...

By the way, does the Deathwatch still have the other artefacts? And more importantly, where are they at the moment? They're not on the map IIRC, and neither are the Adeptus Mechanicus troops

Which reminds me, we don't have any Titan support on this crusade yet! With all these big threats running around, support like that would be more than welcome I think So who of you has a Titan Army lying around

Oh, and I'm really liking the Glacier Serpents as well; I wonder what will happen once they and The Remnants meet...

Well im only writing one faction at the mo so could come in and add the titan legion. i already have a slightly independent forgeworld which the SKitari in my force come from.

The vanguard perhaps. few scout and battle titans to begin, maybe a lone warlord as top princeps and some reavers.
No need to bring the full Emperor class.

Of course backed up by a tech guard army and fleet.

The smell of burning promethium, boiling blood and acrid cordite hung over the air. The husks of burnt-out tanks littered the killing ground between the sandswept buildings, disgorging oily black smoke into the sparse atmosphere. Around them, various lumpen remains lay discarded around the debris, like children's toys. The surviving Ultramarines moved with eerie calm, working through the piles of corpses. Sometimes one would stir, still reaching for it's weapon. Sporadic bolter fire still echoed through the forgotten plaza.

Hadris Aurelius removed his helmet, the crest hanging limply under his arm. Sweat dripped off his face, and through his dark hair. The warm winds evaporated it clean off in moments, blasting his face with coarse sand. They called it Sandfall for a reason. He looked beside him, feeling his wounds ache at the movements. The remnants of his Honour Guard stood beside him, the Chapter Banner resplendent over Aurelius, framing his pauldrons with it's sacred cloth.

An Ultramarine was pulled out from under a carpet of greenskin corpses, caked in blood. He wasn't sure whose it was. Aurelius paused, mid stride. Was it worth it? All this death, all the sacrifice, for one Ork? Aurelius sometimes wondered how he would be remembered. Lauded, for ridding the Imperium of one of it's greater foes? Or spat on, for leading so many to their graves? Astartes should not care, Aurelius told himself before. We are Astartes. We are the Emperor's Chosen. But could the Emperor's Chosen be wrong? The traitor legions were proof of that. The Acting-Captain spat blood on the sandy ground.

Blood oozed from dozens of deep rents in his artificer armour, the ornate aquila crest sawn open by Skulkrusha's massive buzzklaws. He could feel air seeping into his chest cavity, stinging against the air, sand sticking to the wound. His eidetic memory couldn't help but flashback to the duel between the two commanders.

Aurelius holstered Litura, simultaneously unsheathing the relic blade at his hip. Azure energy swelled around the blade's base, suffusing it in a nimbus of arcane energy. His Honour Guard followed suit, Legate Hyperion bellowing orders from Aurelius' side. From behind the landed drop pod, the horde advancing was plain to see. Flashes of golden armour and green flesh could be seen, roiling and thundering closer to the commander. He braced himself, planting his feet into the sandy earth. He would fight, here and now, and avenge his fallen brothers. Skulkrusha would fall. As the first ork rounded the corner, the Honour Guard levelled their bolters and counter-charged, blasting chunks out of the foolish greenskin. It's body had not even hit the floor before the combat started.
The Honour Guard descended upon the hapless greenskins, shredding through their makeshift armour with their power weapons. Axes rose and fell as swords cleaved a bloody swathe through the orks. Hyperion was a whirlwind, taking on half-a-dozen orks at once with his relic blade and gladius. Aurelius raised his shield, spying the Warboss' signature bosspole above the slaughter.

"'UMIE! I'M COMIN' FOR YA!

"Face me, beast!"

Skulkrusha burst out from his followers, buzzklaw whirring in savage delight straight at Aurelius' head. The Acting-Captain flung his shield up instinctively, the power field pushing both challengers away from the other. Skulkrusha was huge, far larger than Aurelius remembered on Terroria. The 'eavy-armoured beast back then was just larger than a brother in Terminator Armour. Now, Skulkrusha towered over the Ultramarine, closer to a Killa Kan in size, with industrial buzzklaws strapped to his adamantium mega armour. The ork inside leered at Aurelius.

"DID YA MISS ME? YOUZ LOOKIN' A LOT RUNTIER DAN DA LAST TIME WE MET!"

"Die on my blade!"

Aurelius threw himself at the ork, relic blade singing as it arced toward the gargantuan creature. One. The blade scored off the titanic shoulder plate, rending the metal. Two. Just over the ork's head. Three. Into his chest. The relic blade squealed, ripping into the slab-like plating. The ork staggered, and looked down at Aurelius. The Captain met the ork's gaze, smirking inside his helmet. Skulkrusha's porcine gaze twisted instantly into a mockery of a grin, and twisted his torso. The sword snapped in his chest, throwing the young Ultramarine on the floor. Skulkrusha guffawed, spittle spraying everywhere.

"WE DON'T DIE DAT EASY, 'UMIE. BUT DO YA KNOW WHO DID?"

Aurelius' eyes darted up to the Warboss' bosspole. A helmet, matching his in hue and shade stared down at him in the cold sunlight, pinning him to the floor with it's dead gaze. He gripped the broken hilt of his blade and scramble to his feet.

"Come and kill me too then!" bellowed Aurelius, hunkering behind his shield.

Skulkrusha lumbered towards Aurelius with irresistible force, smashing into the Captain's storm shield. Aurelius snarled in pain as the chains of the buzzklaw began to bite around the edge of the shield, driving him down. With mighty roar, Aurelius drove the broken stump of his relic blade into Skulkrusha's face.
The blow wedged into the crook of Skulkrusha's neck, missing the greenskin. The orks didn't waste a moment. He chomped down on the Acting-Captain's exposed arm, his iron gob puncturing the ceramite and drawing blood from Aurelius' wrist. As the Ultramarine groaned in pain, Skulkrusha wrenched the storm shield aside and swung at Aurelius' chest, trying to eviscerate his chest. Aurelius fell back, clutching his ruined chest with his good arm as blood spilled over him. He fell to his knees as Skulkrusha batted aside the worn storm shield and strode purposefully towards him.

"ANY LAST WORDS, 'UMIE?"

Aurelius shook off his helm, letting the greenskin see his worn face, and spat at his feet. Skulkrusha laughed and raised his buzzklaw.

The Acting-Captain nearly missed the blue and gold streak that barrelled into the ork at breakneck speed, pushing it to the floor. Hyperion thrust his relic blade into the ork's torso, trying to force it through the impenetrable armour. Roaring in frustration and anger, Warboss Skulkrusha plucked the Legate off his chest and drove him to the floor. Hyperion gasped, trying to draw breath. He never got the chance to reach for his fallen blade. Skulkrusha slammed the whirring klaw into Hyperion's chest, liquifying the Legate and flinging chunks of armour and gore all over Aurelius.

Aurelius got up and reached for his storm shield, but it was too late. The rest of the Honour Guard ran to their Captain's aid, axes and swords glinting red in the sun. As they drove on with cries on their lips, Aurelius heard the Warboss' pain-filled shouts from beneath the onslaught of blades.

He should be dead. If not for Legate Hyperion's sacrifice, he most certainly would be. He cursed himself. For failing to kill the beast himself. For getting his men killed. For forcing Hyperion to save him and die in his stead.
Why would he have mattered? Not even a Captain, not even first choice. Just a placeholder. What right did he have to command these Astartes and let them die for his honour? By what authority did he still live to see his men die? He didn't even want this command.
Aurelius turned his eyes to the sky. He could imagine it now. The Council Chamber, Lord Calgar sat in the centre, Agemman and Cassius by his sides. Tigurius, always there in the background, always whispering. And Sicarius. Smug Sicarius. He could imagine the relish in which he would berate the Acting-Captain, and admonish Agemman for even suggesting that 1st Company Veterans should ever command Battle Companies, let alone strikeforces like Praetoria. His pleasure to be the one who swung the sword at his bare neck, or worse, exile the Ultramarine.

Aurelius muttered to the scouring winds.
"Why me?"
A voice, not unlike that of Hyperion's crackled through Aurelius' earpiece.
"--we follow you, my lord--"
The words hung, the only thing still in the blowing wind. We follow you. Aurelius recognised the words, from his private conversation with his friend back onboard the Valin's Revenge. Why had the vox replayed that message? It played again.
"--we follow you--"
The sun seemed warmer. Even the winds seemed less harsh. This was the moment. Hadris Aurelius knew it, in his shattered and weary bones. This was his moment.

"Sons of Ultramar! Gather round."

The Ultramarines of Strikeforce Praetoria ceased their duties, throwing aside the dead they were lumbering, and strode over to the young commander. Aurelius planted his feet on a raised patch of rubble, careful not to disturb it under his weight.

"Remove your helms. Allow me to see each and every one of you. Look to the man beside you. What do you see? I see the same thing in every one of you. You are survivors. We are survivors. We pushed on. We never gave up, knowing that to do otherwise would be dishonour to the man beside us. The man we call Brother. People may ask us: Was it all worth it? All the loss, all the pain? You may tell them, yes. It was. They fell trusting, nay, knowing that we would carry on, despite all odds, and claim our honour."

"I have endured pain beyond words, to fulfil the faith of one of my brothers. And today, on this patch of twisted earth, he stands over us today and smiles. Brother, carry over the Warboss.
For today, today is proof that you can finish anything, you will do amazing things, if you stand by your brothers.
"This creature," Aurelius gestured to the barely-alive Warboss, slumped over in his mega armour, "Has defiled the memory of our brothers. They live on watching us this day, right the wrong committed to them."
Aurelius pulled the broken stump of his relic blade out of the suit of armour.
"Remember this day, Brothers! For our fallen will not!"

The words had scarcely left his lips than he plunged the broken blade into Skulkrusha's head. Blood welled out of the top, leaking over the Warboss' face. Aurelius pulled the anointed blade out of the Warboss' head and aloft into the sky. The Chapter Banner fluttered behind it.

"Victorex Ultramar! Courage and Honour!"

The assembled Ultramarines roared their warcry to Terra itself.
"Courage and Honour!"

Acting-Captain Hadris Aurelius allowed himself a slight grin.
Revenge felt good. Victory felt better.

My Lord Jeremiah,

Operations have begun on Chormi to rid the world of the presense of Ork Kommandoes, and while progress has been slow thus far, I am sure that we will be ultimately successful in purging this world of the Ork filth. Casualties thus far have been mercifully light, only 50 Kasrkin have fallen, mostly to crude traps and ambushes launched by the Orks. I predict that this world will be free of the Xenos in a few weeks.

Your Faithful Servent

Colonel Veck

CONECTION................. CONNECTION LOCKED> CRUSADE HQ, CHANNEL ALPHA SECURITY MAGENTA
FROM meditando extunderet, FROM FORGE WORLD OF GAMMA IV,
TITAN LEGION HAMMER OF OLYMPUS

This is Magos Archer, Magos Alpha the Holy fleet.
WE bring TItan support to your crusade. in exchange for this mighty gift we require mining rights for precious ores and metals on newly discovered worlds of our choosing and rights to any items of interest we find there, Our TECH guard legions will add greatly to your strengh and the God Machines of Mars come.

1 Warlord, Vulkans Hammer, Lead Battle Titan
3 Reavers
6 Warhounds
Assorted imperial knights of mixed houses

IF you Agree ETA 1 week from Crusade HQ.

May you choose wisely
GAMMA IV FLEET 67ECHO SIGMA

It had seemed an eternity since they had been told to wait. Aurelius maglocked his crested helm to his thigh, brushing a gauntlet through his growing hair. Finally, grey patches were beginning to show through, a stark contrast from it's normal dark hue. He checked himself once more in the highly polished veneer of the bulkhead wall. It was mostly inscribed with names, fallen Black Templars, recorded for the ages. Aurelius wondered how long it had been since their passing. Indeed, many of these Astartes were ex-Imperial Fists, formed into the successor chapters after the Horus Heresy, he had no doubt.
The thought of successor chapters reminded Aurelius of the urgent distress call from the Novamarines Chapter, bereft of a true battle commander. As representative of the chapter's heritage, he would need to liase with them himself. The responsibilities of a Captain, Aurelius sighed. He hated this, all the pomp, the pretension. He understood ceremony, yes, but that didn't mean he enjoyed its stagnancy.

You killed Skulkrusha, Aurelius told himself. Now reap the rewards. This can't be much worse.

He turned around, purity seals fluttering in his wake, to face his Honour Guard. They looked resplendent, the Chapter Banner practically glowing in the warm torchlight, their vermillion capes draped around them, the golden aquila stretched proudly over their helms. No one would see their faces. They were just there as witness, to record this moment for the Chapter. Aurelius had once done this before, during his deployment in the 1st Company. Agemman had to award some guard commander with a lordship and world. Aurelius had remembered the man's face, pale and small, yet a malign cunning in his eye. He remembered the looks the commander's subalterns had given shot as the man knelt down with a small smirk to be anointed by the Ultramarine Captain's blade. If looks could kill. The man had never done a days worth of actual fighting himself, that much was clear. Aurelius had queried Agemman about this after.
"Hadris, if we gave out lordships to men who deserved them, we would be an empire of lords and ladies. Not everyone gets what they deserve. Just forget about it. You are not a person to them. You are a figure, a symbol of the Emperor's Will. Would the Emperor decline to bless one of his commanders?"

Suddenly, the mighty granite doors creaked open, revealing a pair of Black Templars. Cybernetic limb replacements dotted their bodies. Aurelius turned to face them, stiffening.

"The Lord Marshall is ready to see you, Acting-Captain."

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

Lord Marshall Karak leaned down onto the cold plinth before him, his black gauntlets a stark contrast against the white stone, yet both unyielding. High Chaplain Saladin stood beside him, in full battle regalia, staring down the hallway with the dark eyes. of his helmet. Even now, he still held his post highly. The same could not be said for Chaplain Vargos, on the other side of the Terminator Captain. Where the company's Librarian would stand, he instead wore a dark hood, framing his face in the multi-coloured light of the High Chapel. He leant on his ornate greatsword as it hung low in ceremonial salute. His honour guard did likewise, standing in the very edge of the torchlight. Despite the ceremony about to occur, Karak was wary of the young commander. Loss had affected the Ultramarine deeply, and he knew what effect it had. The red eyes and sharpened blades of the retinue glinted in the darkness.

Karak cocked his head, quizzically, as the doors swung open and Equerry-Sergeant Tangeir and one of his men beckoned for his hosts to enter. He went unhelmed, as ceremony dictated. His bald head reflected the red and yellow hues of the massive stained glass window on the back wall of the Chapel, an image of two Astartes fighting against their traitor brethren at the Eternity Gate on Terra. The image depicted the Horus Heresy, of the Imperium nearly falling only to be saved by the two Space Marines. The two Astartes in the image were unmarked, with no Legion marks of any kind. Just brothers, fighting to save their empire. Karak turned away. Footsteps reverberated off the finely swept floor, echoing around the cavernous hall. The only other sound was that of tapestries rustling slightly as they hung on their rungs and unbound flames crackling in their braziers.

Karak finally got a good look at Aurelius, for the first time in the Crusade's duration. He was surprisingly short, only slightly, but shorter than the honour guard who accompanied him. It seemed that Karak wasn't the only one taking precautions. He had his helmet maglocked to his thigh, as traditional. Good, Karak thought. It would be a shame if the Ultramarine were to forget his manners. His scabbard also lay empty, both from tradition and reality: the Acting-Captain had broken his blade in the attempt to slay the deceased Warboss Skulkrusha. Karak looked down at the paragon blade laying on the plinth before him. Such a fine blade, he mused. It would've made a nice addition to his personal armoury. Nonetheless, the emblazoned Omega symbol on the hilt and haft betrayed the weapon's true destiny. Karak had made the oath and he would be damned if a Templar broke their oath under his watch. He never had for all his three centuries of service.

As Acting-Captain Aurelius made his way down the walkway, the Chaplains either side of the Lord Marshall opened their mouths and began to chant in High Gothic. The hymnals washed over Karak, Saladin's low pitched voice in harmony with Vargos' tenor tones. Karak stared Aurelius in the eye, neither dragging their gaze from the other. One, the weathered veteran, the other, the eager newcomer. He could practically see the emotions swimming in the Ultramarine's dark eyes. Caution. Defiance. Pride. Even now, he reminded Karak so much of Sicarius, the desperate need for victory, the need to prove himself. He only hoped that when the time came, Aurelius would not be the same as his forebear.

As the ceremonial chant ended, Aurelius knelt at the foot of the marble dias Karak perched over. Time to say the words.

"Who comes before me to receive this honour?" Karak boomed, his augmented voice carrying over the chapel.

Aurelius looked up to meet the Black Templar's gaze.

"I, Hadris Aurelius, Acting-Capatin of the Ultramarines Second Company."

To his amusement, Karak was rivalled in volume by the Ultramarine. He smiled slightly, but did not show.

"How are you worthy?"

"I offer you the head of Warboss Skulkrusha, in return for the paragon blade of my Chapter in your possession." With that, Aurelius took a wooden box from one of his honour guard, and tossed the contents to Karak. Even in his Terminator armoured bulk, he easily caught the ork's decapitated head. He set it down on the plinth.

"Rise, Hadris Aurelius. Come to me."

Aurelius stood opposite to Karak now, on either side of the plinth.

"You have fulfilled your oath. Allow me, Karak, Lord-Marshall of the Black Templars, to fulfil mine. Take this blade. May you smite the xenos, the witch and the heretic in the Emperor's name. Ave Imperator."

"Ave Imperator."

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

Aurelius reached for the blade, lain on a blanket of blue fabric, and grabbed the hilt firmly. He lifted the weightless blade, watching the flames and stained light dance and flicker off it's iridescent surface. He truly would relish to return this weapon to his home, to walk back into the Fortress of Hera with this blade at his hip. He imagined the smug smile of Sicarius dropping like a stone.
As he turned to rejoin his honour guard and leave, the Lord-Marshall grabbed him by the arm and pulled him in.

"Shall you leave us now, Acting-Captain? Is the Crusade over for you now?"
The threat and malice in his voice was clear, barely disguised under his forceful words.
"After all, this isn't the first time the Second Company has left with their glory untouched."

Aurelius shook off Karak's grip and stared into the Black Templar's flinty grey eyes. There was anger, unmistakeable anger, yes, but something more. Hurt? Pain? Sadness?

"Honourable Lord-Marshall, Strikeforce Praetoria shall remain on active duty until we finish this crusade. We swore it. And our oaths are taken just as seriously as yours, Templar. We shall take Charadon alongside you, or we shall all die trying. And Emperor help Sicarius if he tries to pull us out, for I shall not. We are not the same, Cato and I."
Aurelius rejoined his retinue. Karak turned back to stare at the massive stained glass fresco overlooking the two Astartes.

"I am sure of that."

Contacting Crusade Command...
Contacting...
Connection established.


Volentis is ours. We decided to cut off the snake's head to break the siege, our veterans squads deploying directly in the highest point of the Hive. I personally threw the leading Warboss off the spire, sending him plummeting to his death. Word of the Warboss' demise spread quickly (although few Orks had not seen his grizzly end), and the Ork horde fell upon itself as the Nobz fought each other for dominance.

The rest of our forces entered the city virtually unopposed, going through the distracted Ork masses like a scythe through wheat. Lt Col Komnenos led the Charidian Guard in person on the field to exact vengeance on the Kommandos who crippled the 121st. The Charidians hung their corpses from the city's battlements, so that even the recovering guardsmen from the 121st could see from far and wide that their brothers had been avenged.

As a result of our lightning strike, we have suffered only a few losses, Squad Ilium having taken two casualties as a result of being cut-off from the rest of the elimination team, and Tactical Squad Antioch lost a brother to an exploding Ork contraption.

We are preparing to conduct their rites of passage as we speak, Chaplain Apollon personally overseeing the ceremony. To honour the guardsmen who have served and died alongside us, we will hold a joint ceremony to commemorate the fallen. We believe it to be the least we can do for them.

Once Imperial control has been firmly established, we will continue our efforts in the system on Krakenhold, which is still in the Greenskins' foul hands. We would advise Crusade Command to reinforce the 121st sooner rather than later, as the night raid has taken their spirit as much as it has taken their bodies. The appointment of a new leading officer, and the festivities that accompany such an event, would be a first step towards bolstering their morale.

Also, it has come to my attention that the world of Gallor Prime has seen some unusual activity, reports indicating that a far more intelligent hand is steering these events. I would send my Scout squadron to investigate, but I have not yet received word from them. I fear they may have encountered a threat well beyond their training as neophytes, and as such, I will send Biker Squad Artabas and Land Speeder Squad Alpha back to Grimdi to find them and provide them with the support they need, after which they will make way for Gallor Prime.

As this will effectively reduce the amount of forces I can actively commit to this crusade, our Chapter Master has seen fit to send additional troops to the system, namely a Terminator Squad (ref. Squad Orellus), a Tactical Squad (ref. Squad Ephyra) and a Dreadnought (ref. Ancient Dumuzi), with Sergeant Orhan of the Squad Orellus as commanding officer.

Ave Imperator.

Strike Commander Tullius, out.

 Ezra Tyrius wrote:
[i]I personally threw the leading Warboss off the spire, sending him plummeting to his death.

I loved that. Given how big and powerful Orks are, the symbolism of a human (even though he's Astartes) chucking an Ork off a wall is pretty Herculean.

Earlier in the campaign, prior to the destruction of Mogrok…

They had been walking through Grimdi’s deeper jungles for an entire week now, sporadically engaging the few Orks that had sought refuge within the wilderness, far from the Imperium’s watchful eyes. Captain Holt wiped the sweat off his forehead, and looked back to the rest of his men. They were advancing slowly in single file, the narrow paths throughout the jungle barely providing enough space for the horses to walk.

Holt was at the front of the column, a couple of meters away from the Astartes scouts, who cleared the way through the foliage with their combat knives. One such a knife was about the size of a short sword or a machete, he noted. The sergeant had shown him his own knife during their last break, and Holt had been surprised by its weight when he had held it in his hands. The scouts used them with the greatest of ease, swinging them around in controlled bursts, unburdened by their sturdy equipment’s weight.

He wondered how long they would have to keep digging through this Throne-forsaken jungle. He felt uneasy in places like these. All his men did. Raised on a world of open plains and mountains, the men of the Forsian 11th Cavalry Company were used to having as much space as they needed to achieve their steed’s full potential. Their way of fighting also relied on having other riders riding alongside them, creating a steel wall that could strike down scores of hostiles in a single charge. Their strong sense of brotherhood and loyalty followed naturally out of such practices, as each of the riders relied on the one next to them to kill the enemy they could not.

Brought down to a single, slow-paced line, an air of unease hung around the men, each of them suddenly feeling alone and vulnerable. Such sentiments were lost upon the Astartes, who ploughed forwards indifferently, seemingly hell-bent on finding the source of the object they’d recovered.

"Emperor, if you can hear me, we could use some good news right now", Holt absently whispered to the sky, as he prodded his steed forwards.

The sentence still hung in the air as a scout shouted out to his sergeant.

They’d reached a clearing.

One with an enormous, jet-black monolithic structure sitting in its center.

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They’d searched the outside of the structure for an hour, before deeming it safe enough to try and enter it. The Forsian 11th rather involuntarily dismounted their horses, which had started to become restless the moment they had reached the temple. There was a hint of dread in their eyes, as if they could sense something their human handlers could not.

Captain Holt had considered to ask the sergeant if they could all stay behind, but he had pushed away the thought, thinking it to be too cowardly to even suggest. He decided to leave most of the group at the entrance to keep an eye on the horses, and to repel any Orks bold enough to face them here; a small group of his veterans would accompany him and the scouts into the structure.

The scouts seemed uneasy as well, their body language betraying them even as they prepared themselves in complete silence. Sniper rifles were swapped for shotguns; night vision goggles were equipped and primed for use; grenade belts were checked and re-checked.

Holt noticed that they rarely spoke, even amongst themselves. In that respect, they mirrored their Sergeant; the man was as talkative as a brick wall, only sparsely indulging in simple conversation.
In fact, most of the talking of the past few days between him and the sergeant had sounded more like a servitor delivering text messages rather than actual people speaking.
Move here. Stop there. We move again at dawn. Let’s move.

He could actually hear the sergeant’s voice repeating those lines over and over again, the last one strangely sounding louder each time.

“Captain.”

Holt was brought back to his senses by a large hand poking him in the shoulder. Only then did he notice the scout sergeant standing over him, a dour expression on his face. Weirdly, Holt could swear the man’s lips curled into a small smile at the edges.

“It is time. Let us move.”

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

They walked slowly throughout the bowels of the structure, the giant halls dwarfing them by their sheer size. The scouts were at the front of the group, their night-goggles glowing a dim green in the unlit corridors. Light was sparse within the structure; Holt guessed that whatever had powered this place had given out a while ago. The entire temple had seemingly not been entered for quite some time, thick layers of dust covered every visible surface. Only here and there could one see pieces of the intricate designs that had been carved into the walls and floors.

It was a ghastly place, that was certain. It felt like it had died eons ago, and its fading spirit was still roaming the halls, unable to find the rest it craved. Holt wondered what this structure had been in its past life. Had it been a temple, a palace, a marketplace? A tomb for a long-dead king? The carvings on the walls revealed him nothing, other than that a skilled artisan had been given free rein to turn this into a masterpiece.

The scouts led them deeper into the heart of the structure, until they reached an enormous archway leading into a hall that was simply impossibly huge and wide, spanning across almost the entire length of the structure.

But as their eyes adjusted to the dim light in the gargantuan chamber, their sense of wonder turned into a sense of dread.

The walls seemed to be formed of millions of small silver scales, which reached from all the way up to all the way down, the scales growing larger and smaller in a rhythmic pattern.

Upon closer inspection, Holt realized to his terror that the scales were in fact holding pods, the smaller ones containing row upon row of metallic warriors, the larger ones hosting strange mechanical vehicles and contraptions.

They sat there, motionless, bereft of even a single spark of life, forever entombed within this structure.

Holt had heard stories about the Necrons. Implacable legions of silver-skinned warriors, their only purpose to strip all life from the galaxy. They could not be reasoned with or pleaded to; to face them was to face extinction made manifest. They slept in ancient tombs, where they lay in wait for a signal to wake them from their eternal slumber and herald the doom of the living.

Tombs like this one.

“We must leave, Primus, at once”, Holt whispered, panic rising involuntarily in his voice, “We must warn Crusade Command, destroy this temple from orbit, before these things awaken and doom us all.”

The sergeant didn’t seem to hear his words, too mesmerized by the sight to acknowledge Holt’s words.

“They appear to be in slumber, Sergeant”, one of the scouts spoke. “If we tread carefully and silently, we should be able to extract without raising any alarms.”

That comment was enough for the sergeant to regain his senses.

“Understood. Scout squad, prepare to relay this place’s coordinates to Crusade Command once we exit the structure; Captain Holt, tell your men to-“

Suddenly, the room began to vibrate violently, as if an earthquake had started just below their feet. Several of Holt’s men tripped and fell, cursing as they tumbled over and on eachother. The scouts firmly kept their footing, eyes darting around, waiting for some sort of response from the structure. Holt himself was knocked off his feet by a rather violent tremor, which brought even the scout sergeant to his knees. The shaking continued for several minutes before it finally grew softer and then faded back into nothingness.

Holt’s men groaned as they picked themselves up from the floor, some lending their comrades a hand by pulling them back to their feet. Holt pushed himself up, scratching his head in bewilderment.

“Throne, what was tha-“

“Move.”

The Sergeants voice seemed to come from far away, as if it rose from the depths of a deep well. Dazed, Holt was barely able to form a reply.

“W-what?”

The entire room’s many crevices and alcoves began glowing an eerie green, the sound of generators starting up rapidly filling the void the quake had left.

“MOVE.”

There was an uncomfortable sense of urgency wrapped in that word, enough to snap Holt out of his momentary stupor. The other scouts had already detected the danger and primed their weapons as they began to run towards the exit. Holt reached for his trusty sidearm before he shouted:

“RETREAT! BACK TO THE ENTRANCE! RETREA-“

But it was already too late. An agonized human scream rose from the back of the room, followed by panicked lasgun shots firing in the air, as a giant metal spider phased through the floor and turned its eyes towards its next prey.

I will be out of town this weekend again, but do not fear. Command is still with you all

First orks, then chaos, and now necrons. Well. Looks like us Imperials will be busy for a while.

My mechanicum are coming , il see what I can bring to bear :-)

Might need to bring in my Ultramarines 3rd company.

The mechanic's Stealth class cruiser orbited above, sleek, black and fast they had been undetected in system ahead of the main force for some weeks, on the various channels one had picked up particular interest.

The Humans called it Grimdi. a planet, large jungles, little resources but several expeditions throughout the centuries has vanished.

Could it be one of the dreaded tomb worlds?
They did not have the firepower to take on woken up, in ambush yes. . the melta breacher torpedo would work but only if they had surprise. crippled they could take it down, costly but the tech rewards where beyond imagining....

The Magos looked down on the dark, blessed bridge, "weapons, and defenses to full readiness, drop ships to strike status 2." ordered the metallic magos, his vocal cords replaced over 300 years before.

Had aid come too late?

The Marshall sat back in his private rooms, More Ultramarine's coming, this was far from ideal.

The Chambers where dark, weapon racks dotted the room and a ornately decorated and finely crafted suit of power Armour stood in the corner and other relics of the chapter trusted to his safe keeping. Behind the desk was a dark stone memorial, every Brother lost under his command was there and it had grown longer this past crusade, the names near the top, the Ultramarine, Cato Sicarous was there cause, every name was committed to memory, every one was a great loss. all Brothers. all hero's. Space Marines where bred, trained and indoctrinated for war above all other things but they where not sevitors and still mourned the loss of those who they served with.

Cato, Cato the betrayer, was he coming, the first son of Ultramar, some even claimed heir to the throne of maggage and Chapter master. But Karak was older, 150 years before he was just a recently promoted Marshall, inexperienced vs the captain, now a veteran and more than a match for him, a Veteran captain by the codex, Full Battle company, but he had far more than that, Black Templers where not tied down by the codex, only the High Marshall knew there true strength but the inquisition guess's where not far off, no idiots but theyd never prove it.

However reinforcements where inbound, a force of Templers and Imperial FIsts, 3 ships far as they knew, Crusade HQ would know later but for now they would keep that card face down. the plan was in motion, and now could not be stopped.

*****************

Aboard the Strike Cruiser the acting captain inspected the blade for the nth time, such a prize was beyond his hopes at the start of this crusade, So much lost, yet they had survived and now reinforcements came, He had proved his worth, slaying the Ork infamous for his crimes against the chapter, earning a blade of chapter legend, the tech marines would have to work on it before it could be used in battle though. His chambers where smaller than those aboard the Templers ship, still a large weapon rack bore several relics and a Bolter that dated back to the chapters founding, a archaic design but more a relic to honor now than a weapon. pressing the comm, "Armoury, i have the blade, time to see if you can bring it to life as you claimed"

Karak, the Marshall was arrogant as he had expected however what he had seen, there was something more to him than just pride, Captain Sicarous had struck something in his very soul it seemed, there was a link between the two Officers and not a good one. the service studs, scars and his armour all pointed to a veteran captain in codex terms, the reactions where fast even in his bulky Armour, one to watch, a dangerous one, one he doubted he could match just yet.

He felt a small shudder in the ship as the great plasma engines begain to propel the ship out of the system as they passed the monolithic Emperors Vengeance, its enormous black hull dwarfing the smaller strike cruiser and the many smaller escorts that patrolled the outer perimeter, Firestorms? what Navy did the Templers steal those from? that was a question they would never answer but he suspected there crews had met a violent end. Little did they know leaving now was going to save them a battle.

*************

"we are too close, the Blue ship is leaving but there still remains the Black ones, even there primitive systems get lucky."
"No we can take them, we can prove to the corsair we are the pride of the fleet, much is to be risked in getting such a prize. "

The dark Eldar ship ghosted on the stellar winds, no engines, this close, it was risky, they did not know space, primetives with big guns, big slow guns.

"prepare the engines, we have only one shot at this"
The weapons burst into life, streams of lights tore across space striking the largest ship forward section, many meters of Armour where useless and the vast ship was rocked by explosions and venting compartments.

"SGT Tangir, whats going on? "
"Enemy raiders Marshall, Hit port side, forward section, 5 compartments lost"
"Raise shields, Condition Zulu, all the guns soon as they are able to begin firing, lock down the ship"
"Aye sir, Main battery 3 minutes, Macro's online, lances need 10 minutes to power up, all bulkheads sealed in one minute"

Too slow, the Raiders where faster....

you said that was there weakpoint" The shields are activating, the Cabal has betrayed us! "
"incoming, 5 tracks, all miss, there guns are coming online"
"Get out of here, the others are coming"

"that sector, the shield controls, how did they know?"
"Don't know, they where moved 100 years ago in the refit on Mars, that section is abandoned since then, just voids. someone has told them information, old information but there is a traitor somewhere" ......

Contacting Crusade Command...
Contacting...
Contact made.

Strikeforce Praetoria is at full strength and ready to serve. We are taking doubled precaution at detriment to our speed to remain vigilant for xenos pirates that appear to have attacked our Black Templar brothers. We await your command. For now, we are patrolling the Central-Western Front, holding our territory until the Eastern Front can consolidate. We have encountered Tau broadcasts from the nearby world of Julla. We hold our position, but every moment we delay, the xenos are able to prepare. Lord General, are we your sword or shield in this matter?

Regards,
Acting-Captain Hadris Aurelius.

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

The Cadian 13th Remnants and what remains of the Krieg 22nd are glad for the arrival of the Faustian Regiments and have moved on from the liberated Trisburg and are moving on to liberate Arcturia's mighty froststeel forges, which are under Ork control. Casualties are low, praise the Emperor. If we get our hands on these forges intact, our Adeptus Mechanicus allies can enhance the armoured capabilities of our crusade by constructing new vehicles out of the legendary froststeel metal unique to Arcturia. However, initial scans of the area show treacherous footing for all bar armoured units. Cavalry and Light Infantry units will find traversing the frozen wastes incredibly dangerous.

Yours to command,
Colonel Halter.

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

Contacting Crusade Command...
Contacting...
Contact made.

STRIKE FORCE HAMMER
Strike force is proceeding as planned, will push to support Ultra Marine flank for push in to Tau Space.

Emperors Vengeance has sustained minor damage and repairs are being undertaken on the move.

Hammer out.

**************
Contacting Crusade Command...
Contacting...
Contact made.
FROM
GAMMA IV FLEET 67ECHO SIGMA

Fleet is arriving at HQ Will dispatch to support oporations on Grimdi, secondry element of strike force will proceed to support retaking forges on the planet acturia.

GAMMA IV FLEET 67ECHO SIGMA
OUT.

*********

Repairs where going well, the Tech marines with support from servitors and human serfs where planning to get 87% integertiy back in the damaged sections, heavily braced and reinforced it was still a weak point though. Karak glanced at the reports. those xeno's had to have a base nearby, that ship was too small to operate alone, if they did find it they would return the favour with interest.....

Contacting Crusade Command...
Contacting...
Contacting...
Contact made.

Lord General, this is Tempestor Prime Drakan, assigned to the Cadian 13th Remnants Regiment. My platoon of Scions encountered and engaged the Ork Kommandos present on Chormi as they were making their way to an off-site spaceport. My squad was killed and myself gravely wounded in the encounter by a big shoota specialist. Three of the greenskins were able to make it to a refuelling Arvus Lighter and flee the system, one of them wounded badly by my own hand.

I blame myself for the failure to catch the foul aliens. I would advise that the local sector fleet be made aware of this hijacked craft and that it be destroyed in case it tries to board the Crusade Headquarters again. However, I doubt even these aliens would attempt it, numbering only three. After reviewing the pict feeds of my fallen men, it would appear that the leader of this mob is identified as Boss Gorgutz. Gorgutz has been identified by xenobiologists to share a strong resemblance to the recently deceased Warlord Skulkrusha, possibly being some form of bastardised spore-offspring. It would be assumed that he will return to his warband to assume command over what is left of it.

The Emperor Protects,
Tempestor Prime Drakan.

Transmission ceased.

Grimdi, several hours after entering the temple...

"Feth, feth, FETH!" cursed Captain Holt as he hastily turned the corner, his feet nearly slipping on the stone floor of the temple corridor. A hideous mechanical shriek roared from behind him, smashing into the wall before continuing its pursuit. He'd managed to take out one of the thing's eyes with a lucky shot, which had apparently messed with its navigation software. Not that it had done him much good; he had no idea where he was going and whatever that thing was was closing in dangerously fast. He heard its metal limbs ticking murderously on the floor as it charged forward towards its prey, and the hallway in front of him suddenly seemed a lot longer than he thought it'd be.

He could almost feel one of the spider's talons making a lethal stab at his abdomen when the sound of a shotgun blasted from an adjacent corridor covered in shadows (how had he missed that?), bathing the darkness in a hellish yellow light. The spider was slammed to the side and into the wall by the ferocious blast, which was followed up by several more bursts as Scout Sergeant Primus moved in for the kill.

Holt himself turned around and fired several rounds into the spider's head in the hope it would kill it for good, while Primus shot off its limbs in an attempt to immobilize it. The mechanical spider died screeching and jittering as metal chunks and scraps were flung across the hallway, until it finally phased out, leaving an empty metal shell in its wake.

Primus shot a last round into the spider's head before turning to Holt.

"Are you alright, Captain?" Primus asked as he reloaded his shotgun. His scout armour looked like it had been mauled by a garbage crusher, and his face now featured a range of small cuts, the last of which turning into scar tissue before Holt's very eyes.

Wish I had some of that too, Holt thought to himself, as he wiped some blood out of his eyes. A nasty wound on his forehead was bleeding annoyingly much, but he hadn't been able to bandage it so far.

"I will be once we blast these all of these things off the face of the universe", Holt replied, still breathing heavily. "Thanks for the save, Sergeant."

"My pleasure", Primus spoke wearily. "Where are the men that went with you?"

"Dead, most likely. The bastards split us up at one of the main intersections. I doubt anyone else made it as far as I did." The Captain's tone was grave, and Primus could detect a hint of regret.

"What about your scouts? Where are they?", Holt asked, although he knew the answer would not be much different.

Primus' face turned grim. "Two of them are dead. They took one of those things to the grave with them in the main hall. The others are probably in the same situation as we are currently in", he replied starkly. He was already ticking on a small device embedded in his arm plate, trying to get an idea of where they currently were in the temple.

"So we're fethed", Holt noted bleakly, as he stared at the remains of the spider.

"Not entirely. The men you stationed outside have probably already gotten suspicious at us not showing up again. With a little luck, they've sent out a distress signal", Primus spoke, doing his best to raise the Captain's spirit. He knew little of the emotions of regular humans, but he knew that motivation was an important part in their combat effectiveness.

Holt smiled. "I'll drink a litre of my own piss if that git Lutz managed to get the vox working without breaking it", he grinned. "Now, Sergeant, what's the plan?"

Another mechanical shriek sounded in the distance, followed by a ticking noise that grew louder with each passing second.

"We get the feth out of here, Captain."

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

Lieutenant Lutz was on the edge of losing his sanity.

The sky was writhing and screaming with energies the likes of which he'd never seen before in his life. It looked like someone had dropped a nuke in close orbit, a small dot at the centre of the storm fracturing into a million pieces, sending out waves of energy across the entire horizon.

The men were confused and frightened, the horses had gone completely ballistic and the vox equipment had blasted its operator's ears off with static so loud he could still hear it over the hysteria in front of him from ten metres from the damn thing. He was screaming and shouting, trying to get the men and horses back into line but failing miserably as it was obvious that he was as frightened as they were.

He was busy slapping a guardsman that had gone into a panic attack back to his senses when he heard a garbled noise coming from the vox. He dropped the marine and ran to the vox unit, hoping that it wouldn't render him deaf in the near future. He half-remembered how to operate the vox equipment, and with the previous operator lying next to him with his ears bleeding, he was going to have to make the best of it.

Apparently his skills were sufficient to get the signal to come through semi-audible, although what he could understand of it did nothing to reassure him in the slightest.

"This is [static] Crusade Com- mand to all Crusa- [stutter] forces, be advised, we have co- [static] -nfirmed reports of the planet designa- [screech] as 'Mogrok' to have [inaudible], I repeat, Mogrok has been destroyed! All forces prepare for [static] communications breakdow- [static increasing], report back immediately once [inaudible]."

Lutz tore the headset off, his ears pounding loudly in protest to the sensory overload they'd been forced to endure. He looked back to the black dot that was fracturing in the sky. Did one planet's death cause...this?

If so, he prayed to the Emperor he'd never have to see that again.

His eyes were drawn back to the temple's entrance when it started making sounds he knew it definitely wasn't supposed to make. It sounded like an enormous generator was starting to power up, and slowly but surely the lines that crisscrossed the temple's surface began to glow an ominous green. Worse still, an enormous gate slowly started closing the entrance.

At first, Lutz didn't realize the gravity of the situation; surely the Captain and the others would be coming out of the temple any minute now, right? There's no way they'd stay in there, especially not with the structure starting to glow like it'd been woken from a peaceful sleep. He kept looking at the entrance, but slowly came to realize that something was very, very wrong.

He swore under his breath, cursing his own stupidity for not realizing something was up when they'd been in there for... Throne, how long had they been in there already? He turned to the men, most of which were now looking at him expectantly, their panicked eyes following the gate's descent.

"Don't just sit there you buggers, get the damn explosives!", Lutz shouted, sincerely hoping that whatever explosives they had would be enough to blast that gate open, because if they didn't do the trick...

They can arrive when you need them too, my stealth cruisers are already in system, the main fleet is on route packing battleship and titan support plus the main body of the tech guard legions.

They have elite ranger mandibles by the way if it helps, long range hunter killers who specialise in cammoflage, ambush warfare and being a general pain tne the enemies plans.

----From Battle Barge Crios----
....To Crusade Forces...contacting...contacting....alpha strength...

Commanders, the whole in our line on Grimdi is most troubling. While I welcome our titan and knight support I fear we may lose this planet if actions are not taken quickly. We must not let this distraction stop us from our goal of reclaiming this sector. Our scouts have reported contact with tribes that have dealings with the Ork known as Snagrod. How far into the sector he remains is not known.

Strike Force Preatora strike out and find these Tau and engage, I can not have any sudden surprises in this area. You have my full command to execute the area of operation as you see fit.

The 121st are to remove to the rear and be refitted and resupplied. I will appoint a new command when they arrive, send what is left of their command to my ship.

I request help on the western front, the Wolverines Valiant have encoveredsomething most disturbing, it seems this whole section of the sector has gone corrupt with chaos cult known as the Silent. They will be unable to lock down this front without help. We found many a cultists supported by demons and what looks like possible traitor marines. More info to come on this front.

----Lord Kruger out.----