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Made in ca
Stabbin' Skarboy






Inquisitor Garrett Randall sat tight lipped in the landing craft, he dawned a suit of black carapace armor the gothic eye of the inquisition shining in silver on his chest. Randall’s black hood draped along the back of his neck revealing his short brown hair. Bound at the inquisitor’s hip was an adamantium case that bore with it the seal of the inquisition. The adamantium case was an unspoken oddity among the Inquisitor’s retinue, a taboo relic that was near blasphemous to discuss. So those who knew of the box made every effort to pretend that it was not there, including the inquisitor himself. Randall looked up to see Commissar Alenko and Captain Kid sitting across from him. The Commissar carried an obsidian stone in his bionic hand and ran it along the length of his saber, the blade ringing with sharpness. Kid preoccupied herself with an assault shot gun, a model that was favorite of the arbites, the captain’s face was devoid of any emotion as she loaded the gun with shells. Randall turned his head to the window and saw only miles and miles of near infinite swampland and black clouds that pelted the swampy earth below with rain.

Randall began speaking and gaining the attention of both Commissar Alenko and Captain Kid.

“At approximately 1400 hours yesterday we lost contact with Captain Athenar and his team, all attempts to contact him or any other Grey Knights have been met with complete silence. I suspect that there is some sort of Psychic interference preventing us from making contact. Our first objective is locating the Grey Knights and then neutralize whatever is causing this psychic disturbance. Once reunited we will begin our assault on the fortress and finish these heretics.”

The captain spoke as she dawned her silver helmet. “Understood sir.”

The vox in the landing craft crackled to life as Warden Hoffman began broadcasting on all channels.

3434 turned to face the vox speaker as the Warden’s words filled the compartment.

“Your Inquisitor is watching.”

The Warden paused to let the effect sink into the hearts and minds of the convicted legionaries.

“Crion is watching”

34’s shuttle shook with turbulence as Hoffman continued.

“Most importantly, your Emperor is watching.”

1597 rolled his eyes as Arbitrator Halouck made the sign of the Aquilla at the mention of the God Emperor.

“There isn’t a PC Legionnaire, Arbitrator, or Storm Trooper that would want to go where we are going today, but we have our orders. Ladies and Gentlemen do not feth this one up. We hit the ground in fifteen.”

With that Hoffman was done and his voice left the vox net returning the landing craft cabins back to silence.

1597 leaned over and whispered to 34.

“You hear that, not only is our beloved inquisitor going to be watching us this fine day, but we are going to get performance evaluations from the emperor himself, what a glorious day.”

34 stifled a laugh as he watched Arbitrator Halouck dawn his helmet. The law man smiled as confirmed his grip on his weapon.

The light in the landing craft went green and the doors began to open, it was at this moment arbitrator Halouck began shouting at his charges, “Go, go, go.”

3434 leapt from the landing craft ramp into the slush of the bog bellow, the repulsive muck rising to his waist. Halouck landed into the swamp activating the flash light mounted on his shot gun while the rest of the convicts began cracking neon orange glow sticks. The rain made distinct noises as it bounced off of the explosive metallic collars of the penal legionaries, this barely audible over the roar of the landing ships beginning to take off leaving the inquisitorial henchman to their swampy mission.

The com bead in 34’s ear began came online with the voice of Commissar Alenko.

“Halouck, Rhodes, Hartford, Reyes your squads are on point on point, keep your eyes open and fan out.”

Halouck spoke into his communicator in reply.

“Copy advancing.”

The prisoners of the legion began advancing on the fortress in the waist deep swamp.

Inquisitor Randall was surrounded by captain Kid and the most veteran storm troopers in his retinue. They were almost ten minutes into their mission and still all was silent save the constant down pour of rain.

Suddenly the flash of las fire and the shouting of men erupted just north east of the inquisitor. A moment later Arbitrator Halouck began speaking on the vox.

“Enemy contact.”

Before Halouck could even finish his transmission more las fire erupted to Randall’s North west and the Arbitrator Hartford attempted to transmit but was inaudible over the screaming and las fire. Halouck quickly began requesting reinforcements and Commissar Alenko dispatched several squads forward to assist the embattled Legionaries. The fire to Randall’s west went silent and replaced by a ear shattering scream. From out of the darkness came the figure of Arbitrator Hartford, the man was running and at some point discarded his gun.

The arbiter pleaded “Help me please.”

Before Randall can ask what the problem was something broke free from the swamp surfacing like a shark hungry for gull.

Arbitrator Hartford’s eyes filled with fear as he gazed into the face of death. The creature was putrid and rotten nearly beyond all recognition. What little cloths he wore suggested that he at one point served in Crion’s PDF however his insignia dated him almost a century old. More bone than flesh the reanimated corpse plunged its skeletal hands through the armor of officer Harford and began feasting upon the man’s throat. The arbite’s screams went silent as the zombie brought him beneath the murky swamp waters.

Randall began shouting.

“Form ranks the dead are upon us.”

From the swamp thousands upon thousands of shambling corpses marched through the swamp all hungry for blood of the living. Many of the dead were the once friendly faces of the Calian Dragoons, their once shining armor now blackened by blood and swamp. Among the less fearsome of the dead were the ancient ones, the swamp had claimed thousands of souls in the last three decades and now these ancient bones walk once more, what they lacked in muscle and speed was compensated for in numbers.

Reports came flooding in from all over Randall’s Retinue. storm troopers fought to their grizzly end while entire squads of penal legionnaires detonated their collars rather than falling prey to the flesh eating horde. Kid fired, her buckshot brought down scores of the undead. Rather than reloading her weapon Kid switched to her secondary Bolt pistol.

3434, 1597, 7210, 4999, and Arbitrator Halouck were all that remained of Jackal squad the rest of the vanguard were as 1597 put it "zombie gak". 34 drew his shiv and ran it through the brains of the in coming undead. The perimeter around the squad began decreasing and Halouck ordered his charges to fall back.

Randall fired the last round of his bolt pistol into one of the reanimated and spoke with a voice of utter hatred.

“Stand clear.”

The Stormtroopers made way for the inquisitor and Randall stepped forth. He looked at the wretched faces of the dead and heard the chattering of their teeth.

Randal stood there silent as the horde grew closer. Then the Inquisitor began conjuring a flame in his hands. As Randall murmured a litany of hatred the fire grew in intensity and soon the inquisitor unleashed the righteous flame onto the undead illuminating the night with a hundred corpse like candles. Randall took a step back to take in the full horror of his deed. The shambling dead began toppling over into the swamp as the fire ate away at their vital internal systems. It was at this time another force took the field.

Brother Captain Athenar accompanied by the rest of his grey knights began unleashing upon the undead with a whirl wind of Storm Bolter, purging flames, and force weapons. At the sides of the silver Astartes were the surviving dragoons unloading into the dead with hell gun fire.

Arbitrator Halouck smiled at the sight of reinforcement. The law man shouted to his prisoners.

“Looks like the cavalry shown up, lets send these blighters back.”

With a war hungry roar, the penal legionnaires were back in the fight unloading on the zombie horde. As the inquisition rallied the sea of undead began to shrink and the corpses of once loyal imperial soldiers were at last put to final rest.

Athenar and his men converged on Inquisitor Randall’s position as the last of the undead were slain. Commissar Alenko freed his blade from the skull a fallen Dragoon as he spoke.

“It’s a good thing you showed up when you did Captain, had you been a few minutes later our assault might have been doomed before reaching the fortress walls.”

Athenar spoke his face concealed by his silver helmet and blue eyes illuminating the swampy night.

“Apologies for the delay Commissar, we moved as fast as we could but the dead slowed our arrival.”

Randall spoke “Report Captain what’s the situation.”

The Grey Knight began speaking.

“Myself and Paladin Utilitarius were able to make contact with Justicar Freeman and the surviving dragoons shortly after our arrival, we were preparing to send sapper forces to harass the heretic fortifications but it was at this time the dead began rising and our coms jammed. We set up a small fortification a few miles north of here but we haven’t had the man power to do anything but hold out.”

Randall looked concerned as he spoke.

“Have you seen any movement in our out of the fort.”

Athenar answered.

“We haven’t had a visual on the fort in over twenty-four hours.”

Randall nodded and looked over to Alenko and Kid.

“Prep the men we move out in five.”

As the inquisition drew near the Cathedral they were instantly greeted by the thunder of auto guns along the ramparts. More undead loitered around the exterior doors of the blighted fortress as the Inquisition began their invasion. The Legionnaires fell prey to many traps as they charged for the fortress. As more and more of the Inquisitor’s henchman arrive the men it became clear to the men on the walls that keeping the inquisition outside out was just not possible. Commissar Alenko shouted as he pointed toward the massive wooden door that separated the cathedral from the swamp.

“Bring it down.”

Teams of men armed with rocket launchers sprang forward loading missiles into the tubes. The first rocket exploded against the rotting wooden door and splintered it the second and third rockets sent hinges flying into the night and the door was no more.

The cultists in the courtyard began retreating as the inquisition stormed forward. A voice among them began shouting orders.

“Quickly fall back to the Cathedral.”

As the Storm troopers advanced some of them fell victim to the traps laid by the cultists. They fell into pits of wooden spikes tipped with infectious rot for good measure and pits set ablaze by flammable rot gut booze ignited when cultists threw flaming swamp reeds into them. A tower detonated at its base and it would come crumbling down upon the heads of inquisitorial agents, the storm troopers armor was able to withstand the falling stone, the unarmored penal legionnaires were not so fortunate.

Randall looked upward onto the steps of the blighted Cathdral as he men began cutting down the defending cultists. Something was wrong there should have been more men here and there were even reports of corrupted Astartes. Randall called over to Alenko and Kid and ordered the two to follow him.

Kremus kneeled before his profit’s banner and whispered a prayer drowned by the panicked preparations of his men as they prepared for the Inquisition to storm the cathedral.

“Father Garathal son of Nurgle, may my actions be worthy of you and may our putrid father of blight grant me the strength to hold our holy temple from these wicked intruders.”

Kremus heard a bang at the door and the sounds of fire and the screaming of his men.

“All father, who are my creator and my unmaker when my body fails my flesh rots in your holy vision may I find you again in the garden so that I might live again and serve eternal forever rotting.”

With that the doors to Kremus’s inner sanctum were breeched. The putrid cultist reached for his shot gun and put a slung into the two storm troopers that burst through the door. Randall, Alenko and Kid emerged from the hallway and Kremus began firing at them the Captain and Commissar lept behind the pews for cover as Kremus ranted.

“I am awaited in the Garden, your deaths will earn me a place at father Nurgle’s side.”

Randall was almost completely unaware of the Cultists who was speaking something around the creature’s bloated neck caught Randall’s eye. A silver chain clung tightly around the infected man a medallion rested in the crest of the man’s fat chest. It was the all seeing gothic I of the Ordo Malleus, issued only to a Lord Inquisitor.

Randall’s blood boiled at the insult and began approaching Kremus his teeth grit and fist clenched. The inquisitor began rapidly pacing toward Kremus and the cultist began firing his shot gun at him. The inquisitor swiped his hand and with a psychic shield deflected the slug into the floor. Kremus fired again and again the Inquistor patted the solid slug into the stone floor. Randall was upon Kremus by the third shot. Kremus charged Randall with the bayoneted point of his shot gun but Randall parried the charge with his force sword. Randall pierced the cultists rib with his blade and Kremus fell to the floor leaking puss and other grotesque fluids.

Randall sheathed his blade and pinned Kremus to the floor and grabbed him by the necklace, Randall shouted.

“Where did you get this.”

Kremus answered by spitting a glob of mucus at the Inquisitor.

Randall began punching the Cultist’s face breaking his nose and bloodying his eyes. The inquisitor repeated.

“Where did you get this!”

Kremus just laughed. Randal renewed his beating as he shouted only an inch away from the Cultist’s face.

“Where is he worm, where is your master, where is Garathal.”

Kremus just laughed.

“Your too late inquisitor.”

Randall broke the necklace around Kremus’s neck and freed the pendant. Kremus just laughed as he repeated

“Your too late.”

With those final words the room around Randall began igniting in wicked green flame. Captain Kild and Alenko approached the Inquisitor telling him that they had to leave. Randall stood and began exiting the room leaving Kremus to burn as he shouted.

“Your too late Inquisitor.”

The rest of the inner sanctum along with Kremus became engulfed by the wicked flame. The cultists was laughing as his flesh turned into ash.

The inquisition watched outside of the fortress walls as the Cathdral of blight burned, Randall and his lieutenants emerged from the Cathedral and without a word began marching back into the swamp where they would rendezvous for extraction. One by one the agents of the inquisition stepped out of the burning light and back into the darkness of the swamp.
   
Made in ie
Nurgle Veteran Marine with the Flu





Cork, Ireland

Ardan picked up Sergeant Donnus’ report and began to dissect it

“My Alpha,
Cannock is still reeling from the Eldar attack but it is rebuilding. The Planetary Defense Force stationed here was a shambles but with a bit of discipline I think I am whipping them into shape. Kurt Baasch is proving to be surprisingly cooperative, offering his resources to rebuild his city and outfit his expanding forces. Rebels are still being cleared out but since our deployment here their attacks have been culled, it is highly suspected that these rebels are linked to the Greater Tiller movement but no evidence of this has been found.
Until Next we meet Brother,
Sergeant Donnus”

Discarding the report Ardan checked the results from the planetary scan for any signs of the Eldar,nothing. Ardan sent the report flying across the room in a spur of red hot rage and screamed to the heavens above

“By the Emperor Just give me an enemy that I can strike with my sword, that I can rip to shreds, that I can cast down and be certain that it is smited, not shadows !”

A frightened serf stood awkwardly in the doorway behind Ardan witnessing the outburst

“Sir, there has been a development in the infirmary”

Ardan turned around “What kind of development ?” asking more bluntly than intended

“Something with Faolan sir, I wasn’t giving the details”

Ardan sighed and composed himself “I’m on my way”

Faolan ran his hand along the head and neck of his canine companion. The dog was an elderly beast, his fur dinged, scars of battles past ran along his body, his left eye had gone milky blue and useless, his left rear leg replaced by steel. Around the dog’s collar rested a simple medallion his name Jakarn inscribed and embellished. The dog rested his head in Faolan’s lap leaving behind a print of brown hair in the marine’s fatigues. A small fire burned in the pit of the fireplace of the marine’s humble quarters. Minor trophies of battles past decorated the shelves. All the battle brothers of the Emperor’s Hounds had quarters like this at their fortress monastery a small comfort to be sure. Faolan ran his hand along Jakarn’s back comforting the dying dog, Faolan felt sorrow as he performed his final vigil.

Faolan in full plate stepped forward watching his past self say his final farewells to his first dog. The marine remembered this moment well. It was decades before Faolan was captain when he was still a sergeant. The 4th had been deployed to a nearby planet to deal with a band of kroot mercenaries that were launching raids against several merchant vessels. One of the xenos was about to plunge his blade into him but Jakarn intercepted the killing blow giving Faolan the opportunity to kill the creature. The master of the hounds did everything he could for Jakarn but the wound was too deep and Jakarn too old, his death was unavoidable but he could ease his pain. Now back at the monastery Faolan sat comforting his waiting for the end.

The old memory Faolan spoke gently to the dying hound.

“Rest easy brother, you served the Emperor well. You will be at his side soon enough and I shall join you there one day.”

A voice emerged from behind Faolan as time went still around the marine.

“Do you still believe that Alpha, that you will see your dog again.”

Faolan reply came in the form of him drawing his blade to face the strange voice. He turned only to find an abyss eternal night blanketed his eyes as his sword turned to ash in his palms. Faolan turned back only to find even more darkness.

Faolan growled at the void.

“Reveal yourself witch.”

A distant star Faolan had not noticed before flickered
.
“As you wish.”

The world around Faolan spun and as the marine shut his eyes tight felt stillness, the marine opened his eyes again and found the setting a familiar one. The bridge of the Claw of Aspen was abandoned its crew of human ensigns nowhere in sight. Faolan peered out the massive window and saw the worlds of the Crion system, the massive emerald world of Crion surrounded by the two lesser worlds that orbit the massive planet, the orbiting space station flickered as it slowly made its vector around the planet’s horizon. A dozen other ships from the other forces that were deployed planetside drifted lazily in the void. A field of stars rested behind the world's pockets of hope against the eternal darkness of space. Faolan turned and at last saw the source of the voice.

Clad in blue and gold power armor the the marine sported the sigils of the 15th legion decorated his breast and pauldrons. The marine carried in his hand a staff and a leather bound book clung to his hip.

Faolan snarled at the sight of the traitor.

“Chaos scum, whatever you want from me I will not give it to you.”

The sorcerer approached the window that overlooked Crion and spoke.

“Relax son of Aspen, I have no intention of corrupting you. I am here because you have a valuable role in the coming wars, you and your men must be ready.”

Faolan snarled

“I will have no part of whatever you plan heretic, I serve only the Emperor.”

The sorcerer turned to face the marine and spoke.

“If you truly wish to serve your false god than heed my words, a great darkness is coming to Crion to reclaim what was lost to them. The ouroboros must be in balance let not one dragon swallow the other.”

Faolan shook his head

“I do not understand.”

The sorcerer turned back to the window and a portal opened, the Thousand Son spoke as he stepped into the ethereal gate.

“Brace yourself Alpha, the times of fire are upon us.”

Faolan watched the sorcerer vanish and was left alone in the bridge. A second later on of the imperial ships anchored in the distance erupted into a massive ball of fire, and then another ship exploded, and then another, then the orbiting station burst into flames until the reaction reached Faolan and the bridge of the Claw of Aspen. Faolan vision was engulfed by flames and his ears were flooded with screams of the dead. Then from behind the flames came a great beast, scales black like moonless night, horns curled and pointed with corruption, claws the size trees, wings taller and wider than a castle’s walls, and its teeth congested with the remains of Faolan’s brothers. The beast drew near to the marine and roared bringing Faolan to his knees. A geyser of black flame rushed for Falon blanketing the marine in darkness.

His body ached as it laid motionless, ripples of agonising pain shot up his left arm as he tried to sit himself up from the bed, he couldn’t even feel his right. His neck nagged him when he tried to turn his head but he fought through it and looked towards the voices. Through his blurred vision shades of purple stood around a bed with a lone shade of white hunched over it, a distinct high pitched beep cut through their bickering before a rhythmic beeping took over and the voices died down, one by one the cryptic shades passed out of his vision until only the white figure remained. His vision clearing he saw an apothecary approach him

“Cearul, fighting through the pain are we ? Relax you can do nought but rest and let your body do it’s work”

The apothecary trailed off for a few moments and Cearul heard a cabinet open and close

“Perhaps I need to inject a few more stims with a mix of morphine” whispered the apothecary as he spoke to himself

“See you soon Cearul, rest easy” Toxins entered his bloodstream as the eternal sleep he had just awoken from slowy began to smother him again.



Sgt. Vanden I bet Irish can do that by flashing his bear chest.
Sgt. Vanden Irish is the definition of a Dutch oven
 
   
Made in us
Ultramarine Master with Gauntlets of Macragge




What's left of Cadia

Ranger Thiriel was on a mission

After the Eldar had wasted far too much time dealing with the mon'keigh it had become time for them to deal with the real threat on this world. The Imperials were too hasty and near sighted to see that the forces of Chaos were swiftly rising in paper, and would overrun this world and drown it in blood if they were not stopped soon. And so it was that Thiriel found herself traipsing through the forest searching for traces of their presence. Up to this point she had found very little, surprisingly the forces of Chaos had done very well in hiding their presence. There had been no missing farmers, no ritualized sacrifices, not even so much as a single summoned demon.

Thiriel was quietly worried about that. It was unlike the slaves to darkness to be so subtle in their methods outside of the Tzeentch Arcanites. With effort Thiriel shoved her dark thoughts aside. It benefited no one to wallow in doubt and introspection. Not when there were foes to track. Thiriel raised her rifle to her shoulder and scanned the surrounding area for the hundredth time it seemed. Every time she had done this before she had found nothing, but this time was different.

Far in the distance she could now make out what appeared to be a small pillar of smoke, perhaps from a cook fire. At the sight her heart rate jumped up and she felt the beginnings of battle lust building in her veins. She smiled grimly at the feel of it. The humans would never know what hit them...

Spoiler:
Sssh. I'm hunting Nurglites

TheEyeOfNight- I swear, this thread is 70% smack talk, 20% RP organization, and 10% butt jokes
TheEyeOfNight- "Ordo Xenos reports that the Necrons have attained democracy, kamikaze tendencies, and nuclear fission. It's all tits up, sir."
Space Marine flyers are shaped for the greatest possible air resistance so that the air may never defeat the SPACE MARINES!
Sternguard though, those guys are all about kicking ass. They'd chew bubble gum as well, but bubble gum is heretical. Only tau chew gum
 
   
Made in us
Ultramarine Master with Gauntlets of Macragge




What's left of Cadia

Warlock Raela stood silently amidst several Fire Prism tanks as she observed the forces of the Great Enemy in the distance. It had taken a great deal of time for the Rangers to locate this particular group of mon'keigh, as they had been using the dense terrain of the marshes to hide themselves from anyone who might have been looking for them. It had all been for naught though, Raela thought as her lips curled into a smirk, they had been located and they would soon pay for daring to sully this galaxy with their presence. The plan of attack was relatively simple, but it had a certain elegance to it that Raela could still appreciate. Raela had brought several Fire Prisms with her and they had acquired an elevated position that overlooked the march of the forces of Chaos, and the plan was for the Fire Prisms to open fire on the mon'keigh and disrupt their forces. Naturally, they would flee back into the marsh that had previously provided them with so much safety, and that was when the trap would be sprung. Farseer Lilliana had secreted the rest of their Warhost in the swamps that were surrounding this area, the mon'keigh would march from one trap into another. As she turned to make her last minute preparations she thought idly about an old phrase human phrase that she had heard at one point, "Out of the frying pan and into the fire...'

Farseer Lilliana looked around one more time at her assembled forces to make sure that everyone was in place. From the Guardians to the Aspect Warriors every single individual in the ambush had their own purpose to serve. They would only have one chance, and a brief window of opportunity, to wreak havoc on the mon'keigh as they retreated towards them before they were able to organize a counter attack, and Lilliana intended to strike them and fade into the shadows before they could do that. As the human forces drew ever closer to the point in which Raela's FIre Prism squadron would open fire Lilliana felt her dark urges begin to rise, the call of Khaine pulsing in her blood and urging her to tear the impudent humans apart for daring to think that they could sully this galaxy with their presence, and Lilliana had to shove the urges down deep inside her heart. Now was not the time for unleashed rage, her emotions had to be carefully controlled, every single thought and action had to solely devoted to the enemy's destruction. Anger would ruin the purity of her thoughts, and so she settled down to watch and wait.

The humans never saw their death coming. With a flash of light and a crack like thunder the Fire Prisms guns struck down into the human's ranks like the attack of a furious god. The combined fire from the Fire Prisms utterly annihilated the lead Rhino, and caused the two behind it to swerve and slew to a stop as their tracks were melted by the residual energy from the blast. The humans were still in disarray from the first set of shots when the next few came. Three more shots rang out from across the lake, and a Rhino and a Predator detonated with explosive force, sending shrapnel to tear through the ranks of the Cultists and Marines that had been marching alongside them. Raela smiled grimly as the human's began to flee back towards the swamps exactly like Lilliana had predicted they would. "They are so predictable," Raela mused to herself as she watched a fourth Rhino detonate explosively, with the wreckage flipping over onto, and crushing, the unit of Cultists that had been running alongside it. By now the first humans had begun to reach the treeline that marked the edge of the marsh, and it was then that the trap was sprung. The entire treeline seemed to erupt in light as shurikens, plasma, and missiles of all types sprung from the trees to smash into the humans who had had the fortune to be near the rear of their formation. As she stood there observing the ongoing fight, Raela noticed something odd. Towards the center of the formation a single figure in power armor stood, issuing orders with an odd calm that belied the chaos that surrounded him. After a few more seconds of observing, it suddenly clicked for Raela who the figure was, and the name that emerged from her lips was more curse than anything else "Zehk.....". Her blood boiled as she watched him strut around the field issuing orders, and she began to see red. She turned and issue a few clipped orders of her own to the crews of the Fire Prisms and they turned their guns toward the humans once more. Now the killing would begin in earnest....

Farseer Lilliana was in the thick of the battle, pistol blazing and lightning crackling from her blade to ground itself in the mon'keigh's forces when she felt the strands of fate begin to change. In her mind she saw the human commander call in reinforcements and several Drop Pods would fall from the sky and disgorge their contents into the midst of the Eldar. If this was to pass the whole tide of the battle would shift away from the Eldar's favor, and that could not be permitted to happen. They had done enough damage for now, it was time to pull back and let the humans expend their strength on a futile search. Reaching out with her mind, she touched the minds of all of her commanders and calmly stated "Pull back, we have done what is necessary. Fall back to the Webway gates and let us leave this accursed lake." She felt the waves of acknowledgement from her subordinates as the Eldar force smoothly began to extract itself from the battle and fall back. Her orders came just in time too, just as the last of the Eldar made it to the area surrounding the hidden Webway gates Lilliana saw the first Drop Pods slam into the ground, and the human forces within pile out. "Too late once more Zehk" Lilliana whispered softly as the Eldar disappeared into the shadows "You'll have to try harder next time...." And with that she too turned and disappeared.

Spoiler:
Irish and TS got sucker punched.

TheEyeOfNight- I swear, this thread is 70% smack talk, 20% RP organization, and 10% butt jokes
TheEyeOfNight- "Ordo Xenos reports that the Necrons have attained democracy, kamikaze tendencies, and nuclear fission. It's all tits up, sir."
Space Marine flyers are shaped for the greatest possible air resistance so that the air may never defeat the SPACE MARINES!
Sternguard though, those guys are all about kicking ass. They'd chew bubble gum as well, but bubble gum is heretical. Only tau chew gum
 
   
Made in us
Rotting Sorcerer of Nurgle






The Dog-house

//:...Greijer, this is Judge Hetarr requesting permission for orbital assault, over//
//:...Negative on that, Brother. The Chapter Master has put you on ship confinement, over//
//:...I am no longer on ship confinement. Grant me the permissions, over//
//:...Greijer, This is Annala [Redacted]. Authorization code: [Redacted]//
//:...Copy that, Annala. Hetarr, we are moving into position now//





The Warpath Furnace groaned as it passed through the upper atmosphere of Crion. Three Storm Ravens made haste towards the ground before the mighty ship turned voidward at full speed. The ship quickly rejoined the Arbiter fleet. Though the exterior suggested otherwise, the flight crew of the Warpath Furnace was in full panic. Ajax Sylus stormed onto the bridge in a fury. An armsman tried to explain the situation to the Chapter Master but to no avail. Sylus batted him aside at full force into the wall. The spine of the armsman snapped no easier than a bundle of sticks.

"Who gave the clearance for an orbital assault?"

The crew remained silent, too afraid of what might become of them if they spoke up. The Chapter Master drew his bolt pistol and gunned down the two closest crew members. Judge Greijer rose quickly from his command throne in protest.

"High Judge! What are you doing?"

"My orders will not be challenged, Greijer."

"Your orders? This is downright tyrani-"

Greijer's head exploded in a shower of gore and bone. His body crashed to the floor and the bridge returned to silence.

"I will ask one more time. Who. Gave. The. Clearance?"

"I did, Ajax..."

Sylus turned to face the familiar voice. The small form of the Angel stood behind him, garbed in humbled robes. They locked eyes for a long moment as the bridge watched, still terrified of what the Chapter Master might do. Sylus raised his pistol Annala stared defiantly down its barrel.

"Out of all the people to betray me... you..."

"I'm sorry, Ajax."

A bright flash filled Annala's vision and she was taken back. She could see the great cities of Galor Prime again. She could smell the desert flowers of Kattifrakk. But most off all, she saw the Emperor and felt content.

This message was edited 1 time. Last update was at 2017/07/04 02:34:35


H.B.M.C.- The end hath come! From now on armies will only consist of Astorath, Land Speeder Storms and Soul Grinders!
War Kitten- Vanden, you just taunted the Dank Lord Ezra. Prepare for seven years of fighting reality...
koooaei- Emperor: I envy your nipplehorns. <Magnus goes red. Permanently>
Neronoxx- If our Dreadnought doesn't have sick scuplted abs, we riot.
Frazzled- I don't generally call anyone by a term other than "sir" "maam" "youn g lady" "young man" or " HEY bag!"
Ruin- It's official, we've ran out of things to talk about on Dakka. Close the site. We're done.
mrhappyface- "They're more what you'd call guidlines than actual rules" - Captain Roboute Barbosa
Steve steveson- To be clear, I'd sell you all out for a bottle of scotch and a mid priced hooker.
 
   
Made in ie
Nurgle Veteran Marine with the Flu





Cork, Ireland

Mason and Spencer hauled the deteriorating bodies across the deserted street as a stern faced Sister rounded the corner, flamer braced and ready to unleash its inferno upon any who foolishly defy the curfew. Mason carried his slab of meat over his shoulder, the body was bound in bedsheets and tied together with boot laces, even now Mason could see the crimson dripping through the saturated fabric and leaving an inconsistent trail behind them.

“We gotta move this along” huffed Mason as he picked up the pace “We are leaving a trail”

Spencer nodded and the duo darted down the alleyway behind an abandoned butcher’s, leaflets for a “Butcher Pete’s” were still strewn all over the floor from a overflowing bin that was brimming with the seedy pamphlets. Laying his decomposing friend down a moment Spencer gave the back door three rapid strikes

“Pete should be in there at this time” Breathed Spencer, checking his watch for confirmation

“If that Sister find the blood trail on her way back around we will be caught bloody rotten”

Spencer chuckled “Nice pun, Pete won’t let us down”


The screeching of metal garnered the bickering rebel’s attention

An old man looked out into the alleyway with suspicion “Yous got the meat ?”

Spencer nudged the body with his boot “Two bodies, as we discussed”

The old man’s eyes darted to the bodies, towards Mason and then back to Spencer

“Come in quickly and the door behind you” snapped the old man as he scuttled back into his shop.

Following Spencer into the building the smell of dead carcasses hit Mason like a truck and even caused the Nurgilite to stand aback for a few moments

“feth me” breathed Mason, “Is any of this fresh ?”

“Beggars can’t be choosers boy” spat the old man as he donned his bloody apron and cleaver “Now put him, up there” pointed the butcher

Mason heaved the body up onto a trolley which protested against the pressure

“Wheel it over here boy, don’t expect a man of my age to be dragging bodies around the place do ya ?”

Biting his lip Mason dragged the trolley before the butcher who proceeded to strip the bed sheets and immediately began to harvest it for meat. His age and demeanor may have suggested him to be stiff and slow but he seemed to be skilled with a cleaver, slicing the man up as if he were a fillet of fish

“Next” bellowed the man as he flipped the remains onto the floor.

After Spencer laid his body onto the trolley he stepped towards the door “We all good here Pete ? No one will find out about these guys ?”

“Did they find out about the others ?” asked Pete

“Well no but these ar-”

“Then begone with these pointless questions, I got hungry customers and two skeletons to dispose of” waved Pete as he returned to the remaining body

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

Spencer placed the last piece of armor down on the kitchen table and discarded his rag and bottle of polish off to the side. The two suits were immaculate, the grey carapace having a crisp coat of paint applied and all the buttons carried a cordial shine to them

“You sure know how to polish a set of armor Spence, I’ll give you that”

“Thanks Mason, learnt it from my father” grinned the proud Tiller

A devious smirk crept across Mason’s face “Mayhaps we should scuff them up a bit, can't be too perfect, might stand out that way”

The smile dropped and the death stare beamed out of Spencer’s eye sockets, sending Mason laughing out of the room in stitches.

“Lynn the armor is ready you good ?”

“Sure pass it in”

Mason opened the door to the adjacent bedroom and took a step back when he saw Lynn admiring herself in a shattered mirror that hung crookedly on a wall. Lynn stood with her back to Mason as she observed her curved body, her breasts sat in a deep purple bra with black trim, her panties matched which cupped her arse cheeks ….

“Mason get your head out of MY ass and hand me the damn uniform”

Mason fumbled with the underarmor before handing Lynn the polished armor itself

“Sorry Ms. Adaso” smiled Mason “I was distracted for a second”

Lynn turned around, adjusting the bracer on her left arm “I can’t imagine why, and it’s Commander Adaso to you grunt”

“Grunt ? Ouch, you always sleep with the common foot soldier then ?”

“Maybe” winked Lynn as she walked out to the kitchen

Mason ditched his rags and slipped on his own armor on before joining Lynn and Spencer in the kitchen

“Right, now that we are assembled let’s talk shop, So I’ve had Mac watch that warehouse 13 by the docks ? He seems to think this “Time of Fire” will kick off tonight, same place and now with that armor we can scope it out”

“Ok, what if gak hits the fan ?” Asked Mason “We got an escape plan ?”

“Not exactly, Mac and I will be on site in case it goes down but we can’t really afford it to so try and play nice”

“Noted, keep a communication line open and we’ll remain in contact, let’s go Mason”

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

The venerable shack that was warehouse 13 looked identical to the last time Mason graced its hall, Doors closed, windows blocked with some sort of black material and a deathly silence greeted the duo as they approached the unremarkable twin doors. Music, laughter, gossip, smells of garlic and a stink of damp all hit Mason and Lynn at once, taken aback Lynn paused for a moment before being pushed on by Mason towards the back of the hall, where a table of food was presented. A guard patrolled past them and Mason could see Lynn getting a bit nervous, she picked up her pace and kept her head down as she practically ran past the guardsman. Mason looked the man directly in the eyes as he passed and curtly nodded in his direction, receiving the gesture in return.

“You gotta relax Lynn, you are acting shifty” advised Mason

“I’m fine” snapped Lynn

“Trust me you ain’t, if anyone knows how to blend in its me. Keep this up and our cover will be blown in a jiffy”

Lynn took a while to answer before giving confirmation “....Ok …”

They lapped Warehouse 13 a few times, watching the party goers indulge in copious amounts of wine and food. The wines ranged from pristine Amasec to varying degrees of Estufagemi wine, some fit for nobility others being no better than a firebomb with a cork on it. The food was equally exquisite with juicy cuts of meat served with fluffy Crionian potatoes, smoked fish that reminded the party goers of Nortannis’ glory days and creamy cakes that beckoned anyone that drew near.

“These ain’t pillaged from the ration stockpile, this is stuff from the Spire” mused Mason as he made another pass around the aroma of smells that sat on the table

“Think they go that far up ?” asked Lynn

“They probably go much farther, beyond Nortannis even but let’s focus on these guys fo-”

Shouting outside preceded the doors being kicked in as pandamonium engulfed Warehouse 13. A squad of sisters in battle plate marched in, flamers smoking, one bare faced Sister strode forward

“Halt scum ! You are hereby under arrest due to Profligacy any attempt to resist will be met with force”

A drunken man grabbed a cheap bottle of Estufagemi wine and hurled it at the sister

“The Fire Rises !” defiantly screamed the man

What happened next Mason could not tell, one of the sisters must have opened fire as the bottle of wine burst up in flames as it hit the sister in the face, sending her reeling backwards screeching as she tried to put out the flames. The other Sisters proceeded to burn Warehouse 13 to the ground with extreme prejudice. Suddenly the old man from last night was there herding his flock to safety

“Quickly to the transports, Flee, Flee !”

A stampede rushed to the back doors where some soldiers of the Family were managing to defend the few buses that had been hidden out back from more Adeptas Sororitas. In the confusion Mason and Lynn followed the crowd and jumped into a bus along with many petrified civilians, it wasn’t until the bus had taken off that Mason and Lynn realised where they had done, in a bus, surrounded by enemies and no idea where they were going …….





Sgt. Vanden I bet Irish can do that by flashing his bear chest.
Sgt. Vanden Irish is the definition of a Dutch oven
 
   
Made in gb
Ancient Ultramarine Venerable Dreadnought




Nottingham

Wedged between two semi-firm pillows, Tekkit couldn't help but sigh in ecstasy. He didn't care too much for the ever-watching drones that held him in rapturous attention. In fact, he almost welcomed the audience - here he was, a lowly Grot, treated as an Emperor! His captive audience sat in the couch opposite him. One blue skinned, one brown skinned, and another olive - almost avian. All but one, the olive coloured avian, were clad in the angular and alien combat armour typical of his new hosts. Tekkit noted that the other one, the Kroot, wore trinkets and talismans akin to those of the Orks he had once called master. Of course, that was before-
"-the reason we've brought you to us."

Tekkit's beady red eyes snapped onto the speaker. Blue skinned, a Y-etched into her forehead, and a look that screamed "I wish I wasn't here." It was her finger on her wrist that controlled the drone guards, and that finger hung like a pendulum over the grot prisoner. The human next to her, the brown skinned one, barked at the grot.

"Were you even listening to that?" His beard quivered as he spoke. Tekkit was amused. Even though he was mostly sure humans didn't need to rely on hair-squigs, the notion of this human having one entertained him.

"Nah," Tekkit wheezed. "I was too busy admirin' your... 'ospitality."
"This is an interrogation chamber."
"How long will dis 'in-terry-gay-shun' last?"
"That depends on you." The Tau spoke this time. "Tell us quickly everything you know, and we'll release you."
Tekkit giggled. This place was better than any of the old huts his late tribe had cobbled together. This was luxury, and Tekkit wanted more.

"Well, I'm afraid dat I know nuffink - you'll just 'ave to keep me in -"
A blue pulse round cut Tekkit short, and he flinched out of instinct, stuck between the pillows he'd nestled into. He smelled burnt cloth. When he opened his eyes, he saw smoke rising from a hole blasted between his legs, the embers cooling rapidly. One drone's muzzle was smoking too. The Tau smiled, amused, and cleared her throat.

"As I was saying. That depends on you."

The colour drained from Tekkit's face, and a rush of gabbled speech rushed out of his lips.

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

"++ What did you learn, Mirrorstone? ++" Commander Skyhunter awaited his sub-commander's report.
"He sung like a Razorwing, sir. Drew us an insignia on a shoulder pad he saw, right there and then. Two snakes, trying to eat eachother. Harland was there, said he recognised it from his dreams. Many Gue'vesa claimed they saw the same thing at the grove."

"++ Does it have any meaning behind it? ++"
"None of us could recognise it, but we managed to speak to some natives on convoy from Ros Hannoi. Apparently it was used by the ancient Space Marine Chapter this world was home to. Something called the Ouroboros. It represents wholeness between Crion and it's people, but I doubt that it has anything to do with the eradication of Ork tribes."

Skyhunter paused. "++ Eradication of Ork tribes? In the plural? ++"
"Apparently. Our recon fly-overs identified multiple other Ork settlements, all destroyed recently. All accounts indicate that they hadn't reached a level of power that would threaten anyone in the region. These were practically harmless camps, probably made up of the Ork spores from the warbands we destroyed. And they were wiped out all the same."

"++ Anything else you found? ++"
"Some kind of ritual site, actually. It had been broken into previously, judging from the inner chambers. Dead orks by the outside, and a downed Blood Dragons Dreadnought inside. Eldar weaponry and bloodstains. They'd left the books they were examining, and their translations. We were able to decipher it from their notes. One of the books, some black leather tome, contained some kind of prophecy, called the "Tome of Fire". Mirrorstone grabbed a scrap of parchment from the table in front of her.
"And I quote:
'Horror and madness dwell with in.
Truths untold clouded by sin.
Ashen Skies and Fires boon.
Death awakens and marches soon.'
" She threw the scrap away over her shoulder.

"They also had the records of the Blood Dragons pre-translated. I've sent the reports back already for analysis. Other than that and the destroyed Ork camps, no sign of the raiders."

"++ So, they're a military force associated to defending Crion? ++"
"Most likely. The sheer efficiency of these raids would indicate a strong, co-ordinated military force. Assuming pro-human, I'd guess Storm Troopers, or some kind of Astartes."
"++ Given the insignia our client identified, Astartes would be more probable. Blood Dragons, specifically. ++"
"But that would mean that-"
"++ They're not quite as gone as we thought. ++" Skyhunter rubbed his chin, and consulted the aide to his side. "++ Engage a more focused search of the region. We need to know if our lands are safe from these interlopers. Contact our Be'gel allies. I have a cunning plan."

Rippy wrote:Never forgetti, template spaghetti.
DR:90S++G++MB+IPw40k07-D++A++/sWD366R++T(F)DM+ 
   
Made in ie
Nurgle Veteran Marine with the Flu





Cork, Ireland

10 Years Ago

Oranos Prime was a molten world, an ever turning tempest of super heated rock and toxic radioactive winds that would atomize any unshielded flesh. The only place where human life was remotely possible was along the world’s equator where the temperature was a constant 120 degrees Fahrenheit. Because of these hellish condition Oranos Prime was home only to a less than fifty thousand humans, the vast majority of whom were miners who spent the entirety of their miserable lives striking at rich veins of pure imperial Adamantium.

Garrett Randall stood at the bridge of the Black Oath watching the maelstrom rampage across the planet below. From here the world had a certain beauty, as seas of red and orange shifted by the passing of ink black clouds. Randall looked around the bridge at the rest of the Inquisitor’s gathered retinue. The silver clad grey knight Captain Athenar his helmet resting in the crook of his arm. Warden Tully Hoffman the commander of the Inquisitor’s penal legionnaires. Lieutenant Amanda Kid was second in command of the Inquisitor’s storm troopers she was only twenty-four years of age but proved to have a keen tactical mind an exemplary service history with the Mordian Iron Guard. In the corner was Decimus, the Eversor assassin was fresh out of stasis masked behind death’s visage his clawed fingers tapping against the steel wall betrayed his impatience. Lastly was Captain Navarro.

Prior to his recruitment into the inquisition James Navarro was serving as a soldier of fortune out in the ghoul stars. Randall had hired Navarro along with some other mercenaries to help him deal with a band of heretics who were peddling weapons to xenos. Randall quickly saw Navarro’s potential watching him infiltrate a heretical cartel, totally dismantling the traitor’s defenses from within. With the permission of Inquisitor Lafayette Navarro was offered a place in the ranks of the Inquisitor’s storm troopers, and soon enough Navarro would come to lead the esteemed storm troopers. Since his induction Randall had come to consider Navarro a friend.

The doors opened behind Randall, realizing who it was Warden Hoffman snapped to attention and announced.

“Inquisitor on deck.”

Randall turned and snapped to attention with the rest of the gathered soldiers.

Inquisitor Lafayette was an old man a near ancient being who would be celebrating his hundred and forty first birthday in two months’ time. The Lord Inquisitor’s rejuvenate treatments had given him the appearance of a man in his fifties and the health of a man in his thirties. War had taken its toll on the old man, his left leg, right arm, and left eye all replaced by bionics, beneath his skin a hundred more replacements distant memories of near death experiences. The inquisitor wore a black suit of power armor made by the master artificers of Mars.

The Inquisitor looked around the room and spoke.

“At ease.”

The inquisitor stepped forward toward a console and hit several keys. The image on the screen shifted from the image of the lava world of Oranos Prime to a picture of a man dressed in expensive looking robes. Lafayette began speaking to his men.

“As you all already know this is Oranos Prime a simple mining world. Approximately three weeks ago Oranos went dark, all attempts made by regional Astra Militarum and the Administratum have been met with silence. Official word is that the planet’s abnormal radiation levels are interfering with our transmission. Ladies and gentleman I think you have all have served with me long enough to recognize a cover up.”

Lafayette hit another key and images of putrid marines clad in green armor appeared.

“A heretical war band from the fourteenth legion has invaded the planetary capital, our servo skulls captured these images of the planet’s surface.”

A graphic image of traitors standing over the corpses of planetary defenseman emerges on the screen.

“Rather than dedicating the entirety of their forces to the capital assault a large contingency was spotted heading to the west. Fortunately, we were able to track the traitors’ movements to this location.”

With the tap of another key the image melts away and is replaced by photographs of black stone ruins.

“As far as we can tell it is some sort of subterranean ruins. We have no previous records of this place nor why these heretics are so interested in it. Whatever it is they want we will see to it that they die disappointed. I will personally lead the team into the ruins while Warden Hoffman leads the purge of the planet’s hive capital. The rest of you will accompany me into the ruins. Any questions.”

Sergeant Navarro smirked as he spoke.

“Smiting heretics in mysterious ruins on a planet literally made out of fire, sounds like business as usual.”

Lafayette looked at his team and spoke.

“Make ready then we’re planetside in fifteen minutes.”

As the drop ship door opened Randall felt the molten winds of the world lash across his face like standing behind the thruster of a starship. His rebreather filtering out poisonous air and his goggles sparing his eyes the crippling brightness of this place. His cohorts were similarly clad as they leapt from the drop ship onto the obsidian earth. Seas of lava crashed along the rocks and illuminated them with a golden burn.

The ruins were scorched blacker than the earth around it. Molten waves crashed along its side and dripped off as if it were simple water. The entrance to this place was like the mouth of a hungry beast swallowing those who entered into it cavernous gullet. This place felt wicked, like an unholy relic that climbed from its own grave and now eagerly began plotting its vengeance against the world.

Inquisitor Lafayette hit the scorch like thunder and lightening, his power armor made him nearly as big as the Grey Knights that followed him. He pointed at the structure.

“Steel yourself brothers. We tread on the coattails of heresy.”

Garathal walked calmly through this bizarre place his staff clanking the stone floor with each step. For the last fifty days this place haunted his every dream, a beacon in the warp that demanded his immediate attention. In truth he knew little of what this place was or why it so plagued him. He knew only that it was the all father who wanted him here and he was eager to perform the will of Nurgle.

Now standing at the foot of a great adamantium door Garathal slammed his staff to the floor twice and a trio of cultists began setting melta charges. Barely waiting for the humans to be clear Garathal blew the door.

Inside was a great lake of lava as more molten metals cascaded down, all of this surrounded a pedestal of a man with the twisted head of a Dragon Garathal saw the book and knew this was what he came for.

Garathal approached the podium and took the book in his gauntlet. As the leather opened Garathal felt himself begin to rise from the ground. He began to see glimpses of beautiful decay a garden of pestilence perhaps even greater than the vile mansion of Nurgle himself. It was glorious beneath his helm Garathal shed a single rotten tear at its sheer awesomeness.

The inquisitor and his retinue had finally caught up with the heretical warband . The fighting was brutal several storm troopers and even one of the Emperor’s Grey Knights was near fatally wounded on the journey down here, he is not expected to survive his wounds.

As the inquisition entered the throne room they were immediately greeted by a storm of bolter fire. Lafayette saw the levitating Garathal and knew it to be trouble. The Inquisitor stormed passed the barrage of fire as his war band fought them.

Navarro shouted as he fired his hell gun at the traitor marines. “There’s too many.”

Captain Athenar shouted “Hold your ground until the Inquisitor is clear.”

Lafayette was now but feet away from Garathal and the book, the Inquisitor quickly used a spell of telekinesis to snatch the book away from the profit of plague. Garathal fell to the ground as the book flew into the old inquisitor’s hand.

The terminator roared.

“Meddler, that book is a blessing from Nurgle and you will not despoil it.”

Lafayette quickly casted a ward of protection on to the book and then leveled his sword at Garathal. The death guardian roared as he charged the inquisitor.

Randall, Navarro, and the assassin Decimus ran past all of the fighting in order to assist Lafayette.

As the the two psykers locked blade and scythe the old inquisitor could feel his bionic limbs beginning to fail him and the joints of his power armor began to crush beneath the nurglites power, he could feel that this would be his end.

Lafayette saw Randall approaching and turned to his young. Time moved slowly as the old inquisitor dropped his blade. The chaos lord made ready with his scythe for the reaping. The old inquisitor tossed the book to Randall and shut his eyes for what was to come. The book soars through the air and Randal dives to catch it, but as the tome impacts with Randall’s hands so to does the prophet’s blade tear the aged inquisitor asunder.

Randall watched in horror as his oldest friend and mentor is cut down by the heretical marine. His blood boiled with bitter hatred, his fist clenched tightly around his force sword, teeth strained by the force of his own jaw. Randall ran to the side of the fallen inquisitor. Lafayette spoke with his final breath.

“Crion must never fall.”

Randall then let out a furious roar and began charging straight for the murderer. Captain Navarro called out to the enraged man.

“Randall wait.”

Randall blinded by loss did not hesitate. The Captain then looked over to Decimus and drew his power sword, the assassin gave an affirming nod and the two began running after their commander.

Alone Randal did not stand a chance against the chaotic champion but the combined forces of the Captain and Eversor were enough to challenge the fallen angel of death. Garathal deflected the humans oncoming blows with the long staff. Sparks flew as their steel blades met. The molten lake that surrounded them stirred with rage as the battle grew. While the Eversor was clearly the biggest threat to the marine his focus was almost exclusively on Randall and his book.

“Release that book boy you will not deny the all father his prize.”

Garathal then unleashed a psychic missile at Randall sending him sliding across the floor. With the bladed hilt of his staff the sorcerer pierced the carapace of Navarro’s armor puncturing just beneath his lung. Navarro fell to the floor gasping desperately for air. The Death Guardian then grabbed Decimus by his neck and threw him to the floor, he then forced the assassin head first into the pool of molten lava melting through the skeletal mask and assassin’s skull. Garathal then released the dead assassin and approached Randall. Garathal grinned as his victory was close at hand.

The prophet raised his scythe ready to make his final blow. But just before the reaper was about to cut the man down it is caught by another blade of adamantium. Brother Captain Athenar moved with the warp’s speed to defend Randall. The Grey Knight then opened a psychic portal through the warp and in the blink of an eye the two were gone.

Garathal raged as his prize escaped him. “No, no, no!” But as the sorcerer of plague ranted he heard a dry moan. He looked down to see the storm trooper still drew breath. Navarro wheezed unable to form words as the sorcerer approached him.

“You pathetic worm. Are you ready to die, are you ready for the wrath of the gods you have angered?”

Navarro only wheezed as Garathal kneeled down next to him.

“Death would be too merciful for you. I will not grant you such a luxury.”

Garathal then produced a large grotesque maggot from his pouch and placed it into the captain’s gaping wound. Navarro

“You will spend the rest of your miserable life serving me and father nurgle to atone for what you have done here today.”

Garathall then saw the identification tag resting around Navarro’s neck and violently plucked them before tossing them into molten lake.

“I am your master now and I will address you as worm. You will obey or suffer.”

As the creature embedded himself inside his body Navarro could feel the corruption spread within him. That was the day Captain James Navarro died and Mason Lee was born.

Randall awoke in the Black Oath’s infirmary he found Captain Athenar standing at his bed side, Randall was about to speak but Athenar cut him off.

“Lord Inquisitor Lafayette instructed me to read you this upon his death.”

Randall sat up silently still unable to believe everything that happened. Athenar began to read from a scroll.

“Should I Lord Inquisitor Roche Gérard Motanique Lafayette fall in the field of battle do summit this as my last will and testament. I do put forth my protégé Garrett Randall as my replacement with the Emperor’s Inquisition of the Ordo Malleus. I do bequeath unto him command all my military and financial assets. Approved by Lord Inquisitor Torquemada Coteaz”

Randall was not sure how to react to the news. Athenar spoke again.

“There is however a stipulation that there will be probationary period to be monitored by me and my Grey Knights.”

Randall looked over at the window and saw the ever swirling maelstrom of Oranos Prime rage like a sun. Athenar spoke gaining Randall’s attention.

“What are your orders Inquisitor.”

Spoiler:
Chazz composed this piece, I edited it


Sgt. Vanden I bet Irish can do that by flashing his bear chest.
Sgt. Vanden Irish is the definition of a Dutch oven
 
   
Made in ie
Nurgle Veteran Marine with the Flu





Cork, Ireland

Mason attempted to curb his thundering heart from burst from his chest by controlling his breathing, breathe in ….. And out …. In ….. out ….. In ….

The old man who herded his frightened flock into the buses staggered through the bus up towards the skittish driver who was narrowly avoiding checkpoints and patrols as he sped through Nortannis seemingly directionless

“Get Alexandre on the comms, we need that gate open NOW!”

The driver hit a civilian staggering across the street sending him flying into derelict streetlight

“But the curfew, he would surely found and punished we can’t ask him to …”

“We can and I am, get him on the bloody comms or i’ll find myself another driver” snarled the old man his patience having evaporated

A soldier shuffled over next to Mason and learned into his ear

“What the feth do we do now ?” It was Lynn

“We do whatever the old man asks us to, the disguises worked no reason to blow our cover now”

“Ok” exhaled Lynn “How are you so calm right now ? I’m stressed to hell”

“Experience” said Mason “And let’s leave it at that”

The bus darted through an intersection as a Patrol of Adeptas Sororitas opened fire at the convoy, the bus behind Mason got incinerated, Screams of Agony pierced the cries of the frightened as the infernal wreck was bashed aside from the buses behind it as they all pushed through to the gate. The formidable gate of Nortannis stood tall and proud, manned by the Planetary Defense Force and the Adeptas Sororitas it was the highest point of defense in the city. The buses screeched around the corner into a hail of gunfire, The thin metal sheets that covered the windows did little to stem the bullets that shredded the occupants of the bus, Mason hit the deck, dragging Lynn down with him as bodies slumped and exploded in bouts of blood and brain matter around them. Mason expected the bus to hit the gate in a bone crunching stop but it kept going, and going and going until the gunfire stopped and the bus eventually slowed down. Mason cautiously lifted himself and Lynn up and surveyed the scene of carnage, Men and Women were slumped in their seats, riddled with autogun wounds, some were embracing each other in their final moments, others were bowing their heads in some futile gesture of faith. Bodies began emerging from the dead, shaking and traumatised. The old man, leaning heavily on his staff stood up at the top of the bus

“My children, fret not ! For we have escaped the clutches of tyranny, but they are racing to enclose us once more. We must be quick to embrace to arms of freedom and liberty”
The survivors looked at one another with no clear intention of following the old man any longer and stayed in their blood soaked seats. The old man, not willing to accept any insubordination pointed towards Mason and Lynn

“You two, get this lot moving, those Sisters are probably mobilising as we speak !”

Mason was quick to move, his gun was up and he was shoving weeping widows and terrified husbands out of the bus to the awaiting crowd outside, Lynn was quick to follow suit, but took a more gentle approach gently guiding people out one by one. The old man hobbled away from the befuddled crowd before shouting over his shoulder

“Into the swamps, NOW !”

The crowd rushed after the anxious old man who now insisted on Mason and Lynn to accompany him at all times. They quickly fled the ransacked buses and trekked through the treacherous swamplands that Spencer had brought Mason and Lynn through a few days ago, although Mason had spotted a few differences. Where Spencer was cautious and unsure, the Old Man was very certain of his movements, sticking to a seemingly unseen path. When Mason travelled across the swamp with the Tillers they were harassed by crocodiles and other predators whereas with the Old Man he seemed to be able to steer clear of any hostile wildlife, indicative of frequent travel on his part.

They came to the ancient cavern that Spencer had brought Mason and Lynn to before, Mason’s stomach tightened as he envisioned the venerable dreadnought that still patrolled the ruins within. Mason wondered whether the Family was aware of the Fallen Astartes but for the sake of his cover he remained silent. Passing weathered walls smothered by alien swamp fauna they were undoubtedly on their way to the ruins but why ? Mason was still figuring that out, Lynn no doubt remembered the Dreadnought but if she was uneasy she was hiding it well. The previously dark and dank ruins were now lit by alluring torches and some of the rubble and debris had been moved, however not a soul seemed to be around, not even the dreadnought who almost obliterated them a few days before. An altar stood in the center of the room, sunlight forced it’s way through a crevice in the ceiling of the cave and beamed directly onto a broken slab that lied atop the altar. Mason did not recall the altar but then again he barely recalled the room considering the circumstances. A statue or what Mason presumed to be a Statue stood with it’s back to them looking over the slab, a strange pose for a statue pondered Mason, it was definitely of the fallen Blood Dragons, probably an astartes, on of a higher rank if his ornate armor was any indication.

“Apostle Kaynar” bowed the old man suddenly, startling Mason “I am afraid we have been discovered in Nortannis, the Sisters have caught our scent”

The was nothing but silence for a few moments and Mason wondered if the man have gone mad until he almost fell over backwards. The statue turned to face the ragtag band of sweaty and blood soaked partygoers. His armor was a marvel to behold, His breastplate was engraved with various figures and beasts almost as if it formed a saga in and of itself. His Helm was the shape of a dragon, his eyes as intense as warpfire, a power sword hung by his hip and various words in a language Mason did not understand were engraved along the blade. The grip took the form of a Dragon’s Maw with the blade spewing out of its mouth in a violent inferno, he turned to speak

“A pity, we could have used you on the inside Maalin, but it makes little to no difference. The prophecy is coming to a close and the fabled Age of Fire is upon us”

Sgt. Vanden I bet Irish can do that by flashing his bear chest.
Sgt. Vanden Irish is the definition of a Dutch oven
 
   
Made in us
Ultramarine Master with Gauntlets of Macragge




What's left of Cadia

Farseer Liliana sat in her tent kneeling before a small statuette of Khane, she knew her gods were not watching but the silent prayers brought her clarity in her darkest of moments. The Eldar’s lips moved slowly and her steady voice was barely a whisper.

“Grant me strength oh god of war, lend me your fury so that I must do what must be done to preserve our people, fortify my resolve with your wrath, so I might send your enemies back to oblivion.”

A noise just outside of the tent broke Liliana’s focus, one of her candles extinguished. Liliana turned to face the door of her tent and was greeted only by silence. Liliana grabbed her sword and waited, soon enough a hand grabbed the curtain door of her tent. Liliana braced for the intruder gritting her teeth as she pointed her blade.

Lilana dropped her blade in shock when the figure emerged from behind the curtain.

“Feubryn.”

The harlequin gripped a gapping wound at his ribs, the black coat of his harlequin jacket bloodied. The great harlequin toppled over on the floor of Liliana’s tent. As the troupe leader fell his mask dropped onto the floor revealing his Eldar features, the corners of his mouth ran red with blood. Liliana quickly spoke into her communicator as she rushed to aid Feubryn.

“This is Liliana, I need a medical detail at my tent immediately, I have a man down.”

The Farseer’s chief of medicine replied promptly.

“Understood Farseer, we’re en route.”

Lilana kneeled next to the agent of the laughing god he struggled to get back to his feet as he spoke.

“We failed… we tried to stop them but…”

The Harlequin coughed globs of blood onto the tent floor. Lilana restrained the Troupe leaderas she spoke.

“Easy Feubryn, you’ve lost a lot of blood, but your going to be alright.”

Feburyn spoke

“Farseer, you have to understand, a great darkness is coming.”

Liliana drew closer to Feubryn as she spoke.

“What Darkness?”

Liliana’s chief physician entered the tent with a small team of orderlies. Feburyn coughed another burst of blood and pulled Liliana close as he whispered.

“The times of fire are upon us.”

With that Feburyn released the Farseer’s robes and fell into unconsciousness as the team of medics lifted him on to the stretcher and began rushing him for treatment. Liliana watched as her tent emptied and the statuette of Khane toppled over during the commotion.

TheEyeOfNight- I swear, this thread is 70% smack talk, 20% RP organization, and 10% butt jokes
TheEyeOfNight- "Ordo Xenos reports that the Necrons have attained democracy, kamikaze tendencies, and nuclear fission. It's all tits up, sir."
Space Marine flyers are shaped for the greatest possible air resistance so that the air may never defeat the SPACE MARINES!
Sternguard though, those guys are all about kicking ass. They'd chew bubble gum as well, but bubble gum is heretical. Only tau chew gum
 
   
Made in ca
Heroic Senior Officer





Krieg! What a hole...

(CONTINUATION OF MY LAST POST)

The Scions sneaked out of the Ork camp, any sound they might have made covered up by the Orks frenzy.

The Tempestor reviewed his troops, all acounted for.

'' Now we move to our position, we should have plenty of time, we'll engage them when things are calmer. Once that starts... '' he turned his masked face to his sniper team '' you two are to forget every sniper principles you've mastered, exposed yourself, make sure the hellshot kicks as much sand as it can, remove the flash hider, miss all your shots, lead the Orks to us, the minefield will take care of the rest ''

In the end, the Scions had to wait almost an hour for the butchery to end. Soon after, the hellshot roared in the night, unmistakable by the greenskins. they roared their warcry and set out to find who fired. A hundred xenos were roaring and running towards the Scion position. The Tempestor looked at his chrono and looked at Andrea, she could easily imagine the grin he was sporting.

'' Time to make a fire '' and with that, the sun raised two hundred meters away from the Scions, as their expansive minefield exploded. The Tempestor had requested inciendary mines, a good way to make sure the Orks spore would burn out in the explosion. Despite this impressive display, a score of greenskins, some more shaken, and whole, than other, kept on going. They were mercilessly cut down by the waiting Scions. After ensuring that there were no survivors and that all ordnance was detonated, the Scions voxed their Valkyrie and went back to their camp in the capital.


---- Crion, Battalion HQ of the 85th ----

'' Sir, you might want to have a look at this ''

Gallus raised his head from the data-slate he was reading and took the one offered by Castella.

'' Mhmm, Tau are at it again, stealth suits and the likes... seems interesting, I'll go there personally, get a small team of advisors and trainers, help the locals, I am sure you can take care of all of this '' he showed her the few slates in front of him.

'' All good stuff so, and I just heard the last of the Orks were wiped out ''

'' Should be easy, then, sir, I'll see you on your return ''

Gallus nodded and exited the room.


Member of 40k Montreal There is only war in Montreal
Primarchs are a mistake
DKoK Blog:http://www.dakkadakka.com/dakkaforum/posts/list/419263.page Have a look, I guarantee you will not see greyer armies, EVER! Now with at least 4 shades of grey

Savageconvoy wrote:
Snookie gives birth to Heavy Gun drone squad. Someone says they are overpowered. World ends.

 
   
Made in ie
Nurgle Veteran Marine with the Flu





Cork, Ireland

Raindrops sporadically began to batter Canis Caelum and it’s warriors from the bleak, grey sky as Ardan picked up his helm and held it in the crook of his arm as he passed the assembled Astartes and War dogs alike. His armor was polished and and painted, more clean then he was used to and his weapons were serviced, climbing the steps to the pedestal Ardan cast his gaze upon row upon row of proud astartes, all keen to spill blood once more

“Brothers, the time for recovery is over” murmurs of agreement rippled throughout the courtyard

“We have found traces of Eldar here on Crion but we have tracked them to no avail, as such we shall steer our gaze to more … simple threats. The Tiller Rebellion has avoided our wrath so far but that streak gets broken today, their spirit get broken today, their assault on Hive Torcan gets broken today !”

Distant battle cries filled Cearul’s ears as he laid there motionless, like a unused suit of armor, no more. He could feel his right arm as he used it to push himself up, he definitely could feel it now, it was aflame as pain tore up his entire right arm and the right side of his chest, but at least he was sitting up. Swinging his legs around and ripping out various tubes that constrained his movement Cearul hesitated for a moment. As he sat there gathering his bearings before he realised some movement before him, very subtle movement. Blinking a few times and focusing his vision Cearul realised that Faolan was not only alive but muttering something, while he was not confident in the strength of his legs Cearul flung himself off the bed all the same. Retaining his balance Cearul clumsily threw one leg in front of the other until he found himself kneeling before his Alpha, drawing his ear close to Faolan’s mouth allowing the Old Dog to reveal his secrets

“Lake Arcannus..” breathed Faolan

“What about it ?” asked Cearul

“...Battle Brothers…”

“Ours or another Chapter ?”

“Native … to this …. System”

“How do you even know this ? Is this mindless conjecture ?”

“Dreams ….. Or nightmares …”

With that last puff of breath Faolan closed his eyes again and returned to his deathly state, leaving a puzzled Cearul to ponder his discovery.

Ardan readied himself as his thunderhawk landed in the lower circuit of Hive Torcan, pulling the lever the ramp hissed open to the smell of fire, smoke and blood. The smell of battle. Inhaling a deep breath of it Ardan briefly let out a gleeful grin before turning to his assembling squads

“Spread out and hold the lower walls, send these traitorous curs back into the fields from whence they plowed and show them what war is really about !”

Charging each captain had his section of the wall to cover with fall back points plotted if the Tillers broke through, fiddling with his comm unit Ardan patched himself into a local Imperial frequency

“Is Horatio really that bad ? What if we offer them the armory ? Think they’d take us in ?”

“I reckon they would, might even feed us. I’m all for the Imperium but i’d prefer a full belly a-”


“Ardan Rymus, Emperor’s Hounds reporting in and relieving whatever pitiful excuse of a commander of his duties, this channel shall be used for battle information only and if I hear any and I mean ANY discussion of surrendering Torcan to these weak willed peasants then I will kick you off these walls myself, do I make myself clear guardsmen ?”

“Y-Yes Commander Rymus, apologies sir, hunger does terrible things to the mind”

“As does my boot, my men are reinforcing the walls, patch in your artillery teams and your units stationed on the wall, this is a hive dammit and I will not see more of Crion fall to this false pretender”

Ardan rushed to the nearest section of wall to assess the situation, weary, slouched men and women in Imperial regalia cowered behind the walls clutching their lasguns as hails of bullets dug deep into the stone behind them. Ardan strolled past the guardsmen as they shouted warnings and signs of protest to crouch down and to beware the heavy weapon emplacements. Ignoring them Ardan cast his gaze out onto the pillaged plains that now surrounded Torcan, several convexing trenches surrounded the Hive with Heavy Weapon emplacements placed at key points, so as to be easy to resupply. The trenches seemingly ran back into the distant hills, no doubt where Tiller Command were hiding. Half a dozen projectiles pinged off Ardan’s immaculate armor and drew a chuckle out of the old astartes

“Emperor show them mercy” pitied Ardan as he walked back towards the guardsmen

“As we shall not”

Patching back into the main comm channel Ardan put a plan into motion “Attention to all Sergeants in their relative sections, Mark those machinegun positions and relay those coordinates to your nearby artillery support, when the machine guns are wiped out you are to be the vanguard in the assault on the enemy trenches, push them back with everything you’ve got, we crush their momentum today”

Within minutes the first of the artillery cannons were carving precision strikes on the machine gun emplacements sending the Tillers in disarray, some continued to fire at the walls while others flat out fled their posts back to the hills. With the machine gun fire cut down to a minimum the Imperial Guardsmen found the courage to look back over the wall and return fire, through all the dirt being sprouted in the air however they couldn't hit much, even with a clear shot the distance was too long for the basic lasgun to amount to much. As the last of the thundering artillery pieces died down the first Emperor’s Hounds led the charge into the trenches, crossing the gap quicker than their human counterparts and Hounds tore into the trenches where they face more experienced and better armed Tillers now that they had a chance to react to the situation. Instead of pathetic autoguns they were now facing pilfered lasguns and even a handful of hellguns as Ardan tore up the trench, hacking and slashing his way through the bewildered mass of Tillers, a blast of a hellgun knocked the marine off balance before being brutally cut down by Emyr who was quick not to be down another Alpha, in close quarters of the grimy trenches the Tillers stood no chance and soon enough the trenches was reclaimed from the rebels. As Ardan stood ankle deep in bodies his wondered would this only further commit more to the Tiller cause. As he was pondering his fresh victory he swore he saw something move between the corpses, perhaps a maimed survivor ? Digging through his kills Ardan stumbled backwards as something leaped at him from below, its long, mechanical claws swung at his face. It wore flayed skin and had piercing green eyes, Necrons. Pushing the creature off him the sounds of battle were all around him as the ghoulish entities rose all around them, driving his chainsword through the recovering Flayed one quickly Ardan sounded the retreat for his guardsmen sake but a feeling in his gut told him he was too late ….


Sgt. Vanden I bet Irish can do that by flashing his bear chest.
Sgt. Vanden Irish is the definition of a Dutch oven
 
   
Made in be
Thunderhawk Pilot Dropping From Orbit





In the Warp, getting trolled by Tactical_Spam, AKA TZEENTCH INCARNATE

“So it is decided, then? We abandon this position?”

Lord Apostate’s voice carried a hint of incredulity, one that was clearly shared by the other Lords around the table. Not that any of them had any real reservations about leaving this worn-out bunker in the middle of icy no-man’s land, but the fact that they were not given any particular reason why they were to do so agitated them immensely.

“Under the current circumstances…”, the Commander spoke, casting a worried glance in the Sorcerer’s direction, “I believe that it would be the most prudent course of action.”

“Under the current circumstances, Commander? And what would those circumstances be, exactly?”, Lord Apostate replied. “As far as I’m aware, none of us but you has been told what has happened in the armoury.”

All eyes now turned to the Sorcerer, who had not spoken a word since the council had started. The Sorcerer’s eyes lazily drifted upwards, meeting Lord Apostate’s gaze with a harsh glare.

“Perhaps you could enlighten us, Lord Sorcerer?”

The Sorcerer winced. His armour still bore the scars of the battle in the armoury, and audibly creaked and groaned with his every movement -much to the chagrin of the armour’s machine spirit-, but they were nothing compared to what his mind had been forced to endure. He would have preferred not to speak of the event, but he knew the Word Bearer wouldn’t stop trying to force it out of him.

“Are you sure you wish to know, Word Bearer?”, the Sorcerer answered, his voice throaty and harsh. It was difficult to breathe, and talking only made it worse. Even though he knew it to be nothing more than his mind playing tricks on him, he still felt Aurelius’ daemonic fingers wrapped around his neck, squeezing hard on his throat.

“If it isn’t too much trouble, Son of Magnus”, Lord Apostate replied, his grin vile as ever.

The Sorcerer sighed. The other Lords were eyeing him expectantly, and he knew it was best to not keep them waiting.

“To tell you all the truth… I myself am not completely sure of what has happened. All I know is that I encountered some sort of… daemon.”

“That’s impossible”, Lord Apostate spoke. “I placed the protective wards myself. No Warpspawn could enter these walls undetected.”

“And did you not shroud our location when we first came here? How could anyone have found us?” Lord Breacher added, concern marking his features.

“I’m well aware of our defensive measures, Brothers”, the Sorcerer sneered. “But this was no ordinary daemon. This one was no pure child of the Warp."

“Speak clearly, Sorcerer”, Lord Ravager snarled. “My patience is wearing thin.”

The Sorcerer took another deep, agonizing breath before continuing.

“Do you all remember the Ultramarine Captain – I mean, Acting-Captain we… ‘acquired’, six years ago?”, he spoke softly. Nods and grunts were his only reply.

“I took a sample of his gene-seed – you all know why. You should also know that said sample was kept in stasis here on the Wandering Wraith…”

“…until it was stolen during that raid”, Lord Breacher remarked, his hands clenching into fists at the memory.

“Precisely. I believe that someone, presumably a psyker of consummate skill, merged said sample with a daemon… ”, the Sorcerer continued, his eyes now locking with Lord Apostate’s, whose pallid features turned an even lighter shade. “… a daemon that now wears the loyal Captain’s face.”

“If what you say is true, brother…” Lord Apostate whispered. “Then we are up against a formidable opponent. Such Warpcraft is far beyond the capacities of a mere mortal."

“Indeed. But that is not all. At one point, the daemon briefly managed to overcome me and forced me to fight it inside my own psyche. However, doing so made it impossible for me to maintain the shroud over our location…”, the Sorcerer replied, shivering as he felt the daemon’s taint still lingering in the back of his mind.

“So they know we’re here. The Imperium, the Orks, whoever’s pulling the daemon’s strings – they know where to find us”, Lord Breacher uttered, his expression a mixture of shock and anger. The other Lords looked similarly alarmed, the gravity of the situation now fully dawning on them.

“Yes. Or at least that someone is up here. Which means we have little time. If we don’t evacuate this place now, we run the risk of being discovered – which would put our entire operation here at risk”, the Sorcerer answered, his eyes now resting on the Commander’s face.

The Commander righted himself, and activated the hologram projector at the centre of the table. The flickering blue half-light burst into life, producing a detailed map of the planet’s surface.

“This leaves us no choice, Brothers. Our only option is to leave this place as fast as possible”, the Commander spoke, as he pushed a few buttons on the projector’s control panel. The map zoomed in on their location, which was marked by a blinking blue light. At the pressing of another button, a series of smaller blue lights appeared, forming a path from the base to an ice plain in the north.

“I have already conferred with the Wandering Wraith. Transports will pick us up on the ice plain and take us back to the ship. Once there, we will set course to one of Crion’s moons. If the Gods are willing, we will find shelter there. Now, let us make the appropriate preparations. You all know what must be done.”

The Lords around the table nodded, and made their way to the exit one by one. Eventually, the room was empty again, save for the Commander, the Sorcerer and a few menials working the cogitator banks.

The Commander sighed deeply, and turned towards the Sorcerer.

“You’re sure about this?”, he asked as he turned off the hologram projector.

The Sorcerer cast him a wry smile. “Do I have a choice, Brother? I have to be. For all our sakes.”

“Even after everything that’s happened?”

“Especially after everything that’s happened.”


The Commander snorted. “Well then”, he spoke, as he stepped towards the exit. “I’ll just have to trust you, won’t I?”

As always, Brother. As always.



Tactical_Spam: Ezra is fighting reality right now.

War Kitten: Vanden, you just taunted the Dank Lord Ezra. Prepare for seven years of fighting reality...

War Kitten: Ezra can steal reality

Kharne the Befriender:Took him seven years but he got it wrangled down

 
   
Made in ie
Nurgle Veteran Marine with the Flu





Cork, Ireland

Every step, agony.

Every breath, a struggle.

Every thought, redemption.

Cearul dragged himself out of the Medical Center with the aid of Morphine that he pillaged from the nearby cabinet. Dragging his feet through the soft mud, Cearul lazily banged the door of the kennels sending a chorus of agitated barks and howls throughout Canis Caelum. Rhodri stormed out of the foul smelling dog pit in a fluster before noticing a battered Cearul leaning against the doorframe

“Cearul ? What are you doing up and about ? You can’t be healthy”

“I have work to do, Houndmaster”

“That you do, that of recovery. Come let me get you back to the Medical Center”

“That I cannot do Rhodri, Faolan has granted me a task, possibly his last, I shall see it to its end”

“And what task is that ? Ardan has gathered all of our strength to relieve the siege of Hive Torcan, a garrison force is all that remains”

“Then I shall lead the garrison out of Canis Caelum, I trust Ardan left behind some transports ?”

“He did, but I still protest to this idea, besides Faolan is half delirious anyway with all the drugs we have been pumping into him, we can’t take his word for much in his current state”

“Rally the dogs Rhodri, I shall rally the garrison, we most at dusk”

“Which breed brother ?”

“All of them”

Stumbling towards the mess hall Cearul heard bouts of laughter and jeering from inside, they must have broken open the stores of mead. Putting his weight on the door it slammed open, turning curious heads and ending even the loudest of conversations

“Brothers, I know you were ordered to garrison Canis Caelum but our Alpha Faolan has issued us with a sacred task”

One marine arose “Faolan ? So he lives ?”

“That tough bastard will outlive us all, now gather yourselves and rendezvous at the remaining thunderhawks at dusk, our brothers lives are at risk”

Finishing their drinks the remaining brothers shuffled out of the mess hall and towards the armory

“And brothers, bring the good stuff, we may not return”

Darkness engulfed Crion as her moons hung high in the charcoal sky. Cearul stood freely in his armor, freshly polished and painted, with fresh inscriptions for his valor at the downfall of the gargant. Two squads of astartes stood at his command before him. Most members of Tactical Squad Mara and Assault squad Dilse were still recovering when Ardan sounded the muster for Hive Torcan and as such were left behind to defend Canis Caelum. Gathering his two remaining squads, and a number of support staff Cearul’s meager force numbered at around 30 marines with 60 odd warhounds. Funneling them into his transports Cearul saluted the handful of marines left behind to guard the Medical center for Faolan's sake, Injecting another dose of Morphine into his neck, Cearul gritted his teeth and boarded his transport.

The bulky aircraft flew in on the Eastern side of Lake Arcannus, in a heavily forested area, finding a clearing near the lake itself Cearul activated his vox communicator

“Set us down near the lake and return for us in the morning, we may have a few extra friends with us”

“Or a few less” added Rhodri

Dogs and Hounds disembarked onto the soft, swampy ground, gathering around the murky, black lake. The water was like tar, at least it looked like it, striding in Cearul lead his brothers into the abyss. Fully submerged Cearul and his marine brothers treaded slowly as their eyes adapted to the darkness, guns trained and at the ready they searched for any signs of the Adeptas Astartes. The ancient, isolated sealife scattered before the intruders as they scoured the lake bed for their lost brothers. Doubt gnawed at the back of Cearul’s skull the longer the search continued, was Rhodri right about Faolan ? Had the old dog finally lost his mind ? The question sat in his mind for a while longer until one of the marines up ahead spotted a structure up ahead, atop a mound of sand. Statues, if one could even still call them that, remained half buried on the approach to the ruin, they were undoubtedly Imperial.

“Check out the ruins, on the hill, Our brothers must be there” ordered Cearul as he struggled to keep up with his brothers

One of the leading marines reported his findings “Imperial Aquilas, faded but legible, Symbols of some creature, looks like a dragon and a globe, Crion perhaps ?”

“Good, this confirms th-” the rejuvenated Commander noticed a sandstorm emerged from the ruins itself, no something was in the sandstorm, something big.
“ALL BROTHERS PUSH ON TO THE RUINS, PROVIDE COVER WHERE YOU CAN MOVE MOVE MOVE !” Roared Cearul as he dragged himself up the steep slope, his brothers whizzing past him

The creature shifted a huge portion of sand and embedded debris towards the slope with a swing of one of its appendages, ducking for cover, Cearul hurled himself to a rock to his left, he came crashing down, hard, causing his body to scream with agony. Sand swirled as silhouettes of his brothers recovered, some clamouring out of the sand, some getting dug out by others, utter anarchy. Clutching the rock, Cearul pulled himself up and stumbled forward, the beast was screeching, although unseen the deafening noise was growing closer and closer. A hand scooped Cearul from the back and helped him up the slope with the last of the marines that managed to survive the barrage of sand

“Back to back, form a circle, we stand here !” barked Cearul as he rejoined his brothers, patting his life saver on the shoulder

Cearul drew his blade and awaited the mysterious beast but it did not come, every movement it made send water swirling and sand sprouting, the black figure moved away as quick as it came. A wall of sand receded and revealed an ancient engraved door, still weary Cearul kept his stance and cautiously approached the door, Three dragons encircled a planet, engulfed in flame. The door hissed and the globe parted in two as the door opened, no one was there to greet them bar silence, turning to his brothers, Cearul gave the nod and they trudged into the cryptic complex.

The door sealed behind them and the sand wall shifted back into place. The water was swallowed up by drains in the floor, once the room was empty the door ahead of them opened to a trio of robed marines, they donned gray robes with a crimson thread hanging around their waists, the one in front bore two studs in his forehead and made the first move

“Greetings brothers of the Emperor, it is time to begin” The three marines parted and beckoned the Emperor’s Hounds further into their isolated facility.

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

“Eldar” spat Garathal as he cleaned his blade

“Flimsy acrobats who live in the past and cannot accept that they are considered an endangered species”

“They caught us off guard, must have been tracking us” deduced Baezael

“And they shall not do so again, take control of the birds, I want aerial surveillance”

Large deep ripples in the lake caught Garathal’s attention, immediately losing interest in the Bray Shaman Garathal rallied the camp

“My children, Nurgle’s avatar rumbles in the deep once more ! Beckoning his lovely children forth to tame him and to show our worth, what say we embrace Grandfather’s Challenge ?”

Beastmen, Cultist, Plague Marine, Minotaur and other spawns of decay all cheered and raised their weapons in agreement as though it actually mattered, it didn’t, they were heading into the lake, whether they liked it or not.

As the Disciples of Decay prepared to attack the lake multiple black dots approached from the sky, Garathal presumed them to be birds but as they grew closer they grew larger in size, and then they opened fire ….



Sgt. Vanden I bet Irish can do that by flashing his bear chest.
Sgt. Vanden Irish is the definition of a Dutch oven
 
   
Made in gb
Ancient Ultramarine Venerable Dreadnought




Nottingham

The convoy truck bounced and clattered along the country roads of Crion. Under the twin moons, the vehicle traveled unobserved, save for the waterbirds and crop pests that saw the pale moonlight glint off the black plating, and the gun barrels that poked out from under the tarpaulin.

If anyone had cared to see it, the truck would have been indistinguishable from any other troop wagon which were commonplace on Crion now: Imperial troops were being ferried all over the continent - from the Eastern borders, which had long fallen silent, to the mustering points on the North-West coast, ferrying out to Hive Torcan to begin the counterattack.

The guards of San Christina had been surprised to see a troop truck coming, convinced they'd shipped out all their spare forces to join the war effort. Two Sisters of Battle oversaw the transfer, as a handful of sheepish, scruffy soldiers were frogmarched from the front gate by a short man in Commissariat uniform, with a thick dark beard and foreign accent. The leader of the soldiers being forced onto the truck, a massive man with a large broadsword, gave the Sororitas one last disgruntled look as his shaggy mane disappeared into the hold.

As it backed away, to ferry the troopers to the North-West, one Sisters turned to the other.
"That man - he looked familiar?"

"We caught him on the docks few months back. Must have been soldier as well as a fisherman. Might have wanted to stay fishing here."

"No, I mean he looked important. And that one who collected them. The dark coloured one."

"They all look the same, Lena. Stop worrying about it. They're not our problem any more."

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

When they were out of sight, Vandred removed the thick Commissar coat and hat. The air was stifling. He turned to the Hound, who was flexing the muscles in his neck, and pulling off the undersized conscript uniform smuggled in for him.
"Could you not ruin that uniform? We might need it again."

The Hound shot him an annoyed glare. "Why did you come for us? We had the place staked out. I ordered no attacks on San Christina, it's not-"
"Yes, you're right. We're not attacking it. But our intel has found something that might be of some interest to us. We need a safer staging post on the mainland, and San Christina is too hot. A cell of Tillers will take up your old post and continue the reconnaissance. But for you and your mercenaries, Commander Skyhunter figured you'd be better used here." Vandred took a map from one of the Gue'vesa troops sat in the cab.
"Site Alpha, in South Vow. A Blood Dragons ruin, like what we found in Jorgan and Kalhoon. It might hold kind of information, and even failing that, it's a good start for a staging post."

"We're dungeon delvers now?"

Vandred laughed humourlessly. "Problem?"

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

"This is it."
Vandred was woken by the Tiller guide, and shook the Hound by the shoulder. The large man startled awake, rabid eyes stark in the darkness. Vandred clambered out, and pulled away the tarpaulin over the truck. They all got to see Site Alpha - strong black rocks jutted out of the ground, alien to the rest of the landscape. The clearly unfamiliar geology was unsettling, moreso to the native Crionians. The Tillers muttered to themselves as Vandred, his Gue'vesa and the Hound's Company studied the ruins. One Tiller called out to Vandred.

"We don't come here. Not right, like. Nor do Imperials. Like, it just ain't right, you dig?"
"There's signs of scavenging. Hunks of rock moved away, carvings cut out. You're sure people don't come here?"
"Like, looters and stuff. They ain't right though. This ain't right. We avoid this place, and the Imperials too. And I've heard of no-one going in. This is as safe as we get inland, so long as there ain't nothing in there that poses a threat?"
"There won't be. We came prepared."

Vandred grabbed a drone from under his seat on the truck, and the drone flickered to life, scanning for an entry point. Soon enough, a long ancient door, seized up halfway and nearly buried under moss and lichen, was discovered. Taking a deep breath, Vandred followed the drone in, his power sword outstretched and ready. The click of lasguns, autoguns and pulse carbines clicking to ignition behind him echoed down the tunnels. The drone stopped, and Vandred reached it, placing a light strip on the floor of the cave. A dead end.

"The Blood Dragons used this, what, pit? There's nothing in here?" The Hound growled. He rested on his broadsword. "We could use this place as a smuggling den perhaps, but there's no room to make any kind of staging post here. Are we even sure it was used by the-"
"Space Marines? Yes." Vandred pointed at a statue dug into the wall.

A fully sized Adeptus Astartes, with the sigil of the Blood Dragons etched onto the pauldron, stood over them looming out of the rock. Even the stone itself seemed to radiate righteous fury, and Vandred prayed he'd never meet an actual one this close. Around the figure, the maw of a great beast stood haloing the Space Marine. The scales, the fangs, the forked tongue - Vandred supposed it was-
"A dragon." One of the Tillers stammered. The rebel militia stayed back, their guns trained on the rearguard and the lifeless stone. "Gods be damned, is that the size of the damned thing?"
"Bigger, I heard."
"Like, massive!"
"Swallowed the sun, I swear they could, like-"
"Groxgak like they could swallow the damn sun, they weren't no bigger than a big bear!"
"Like hell they-"

"Enough!" The Hound snapped, and the bickering Tillers fell silent. "Have any of you bastards seen a dragon? No? Then shut up until we see one. As far as I'm concerned, they're dead - like any hopes of us finding something in this damned pit!"

As the Hound's words left his mouth, the cave shook, and the statue of the Space Marine swung into the cave wall, revealing a further tunnel. Vandred grinned, and he let go of the lever hidden in the dragon's maw.
"Shall we?"

The smell grew thicker as they went down. Old. Rank. Unnatural. Shafts of natural light flooded into a large chamber, and the cave mouth opened up. Before they could search the room, one of the Gue'vesa stumbled, slipped on a wet patch of stone, and before they could be caught, slipped into a pit in the centre of the chamber. Vandred heard a scream, and rushed in after.
The Pathfinder was unhurt, barely injured by the fall. It wasn't the fall that had elicited the scream. It was the piles of skulls and corpses that lay in the pit with him.

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

Skeletal bodies littered the pit floor, enough to cover the entire thing. There wasn't an inch of stone left to see. Only dust, splintered bone and ancient suits of armour. As the Tillers threw down a rope for the disturbed Pathfinder, Vandred consulted with the Hound.
"Is this normal?"

"For Space Marines? They're an odd bunch. They like their sacrifices and traditions, but I've not seen anything on this scale. I'd say this was a slaughter of rebels perhaps, or failed aspirants, but for this." The Hound gestured at a corpse on the top. "They're wearing armour, Astartes issue Scout armour. I can't tell up here, but they look like they have the insignia of the Blood Dragons too."
"The bodies of their Scouts? Perhaps it's a burial for their dead?"
"This is a lot of dead, Vandred. Nearly a hundred, fifty at the very least. Practically an entire company down here."
"Corpses from over time, then?"
"They look the same. All stripped clean, and the uniforms look unchanged. Whatever happened, this happened all at once."
"I see." Vandred called over to the Gue'vesa operating the drone. "Let me see what the drone's picked up. Post-mortem report."
The human auxiliary passed the dataslate over to Vandred. He paused, scanning through the literal mountain of the dead.

The Hound peered over. "Any sign of what killed them?"
"It's... confusing. The bodies on the bottom half of the pile have markings on the throat, implying a slit throat. The others, especially near the top? Bludgeoning wounds, stabs in the chest which broke through the nearly formed ribcage. No gunshots though."
The Hound paused, as he considered the data. "So the first ones to fall in had their throats slit cleanly. The rest... resisted?"
Vandred thought about it. "Perhaps. They're all in armour, yet unarmed. No sign of restraints or capture. It seems like they came in here, half died from throats being slit, and the rest fought back against something? What was the something?"
"No clue. But I have found something that might be of use." The Hound pointed at an inscription, carved in High Gothic over the mass grave. Vandred attempted to decipher it, and gave up. He nodded for the Hound to translate. "In death, we are reborn."

Vandred pondered this. "They knew they were here to die? Unlikely, or else why would there be a struggle? Unless..."
"Unless they were being led here to die by someone else." The Hound muttered.
"Perhaps. A ritual sacrifice? Of their entire Scout Cadre? But why?"

Vandred sat down, stared into the blank skull face of the topmost corpse, and imagined seeing the last thing it saw.

Rippy wrote:Never forgetti, template spaghetti.
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