Since I fell in love with the 30K System and the lore of that era of the warhammer 40K
universe I've been trying to gather enough likeminded gamers in the Harrogate Area to launch my own 30K campaign. It's been a long time coming but we've now got 6 players committed to launching our own heresy in a forgotten area of the Imperium. The rules are simple, no loyalties were known until the first battle commenced, half would turn traitor whilst the other remain loyalist, nobody was safe from the waivering loyalties of the time which meant for some excitement when we saw who would turn and who would rememeber their loyalties.
With the first battle concluded and the Consuls from every legion taking shape I felt it would be a good idea to keep track of how the miniatures and heresy progresses, charting the work of the Legions as they expand (and with such beautiful models who wouldnt want to track the progress). The rules for game 1 were simple, each player had 120 points to build their campaign HQ
, either a consul or centurion from their respective legions that would remain their warlord for the duration of the campaign. The mission to take hold of the one comms relay able to reach the rest of the Imperium and get word out of the betrayal.
The forces are as follows:
- Sivarka Gard Centurion
- Primus Medicae Varos
- Librarian Lythander
- Prime Centurion Cassius
- Centurion Atlas
- UNKNOWN (Yet to Deploy)
Before I move onto miniatures lets get some narrative going:
In the 30th Millennium a war the likes of which the Imperium will never again see has beset the empires of man. Once unshakable alliances have been dissolved, entire planets scoured of life in a betrayal that shakes the very foundation of mankind, and echoes of this betrayal resonate to the furthest corners of the galaxy.
The great crusade has ground to a halt as tremors of rebellion echo through the Imperium of Man, the air has become tainted with whispers of betrayal and xenos have taken it upon themselves to capitalise on this opportunity to beset the Imperium on all sides.
Fresh from a long and bloody campaign against the once mighty Xenos Empire of the Devechi Collective the captains of the remaining Astartes come together to pool their resources. A war counsel is called in the Naro system to marshal those loyal to the emperor and bring those curs who dare betray their promises to heel. But not everyone is who they seem, even here some brothers hearts are tainted by dark ambition.
The piercing silhouette of the communications relay cut a striking shadow against the dawn sky, a daunting monolithic structure dating back to years long since forgotten it stood as the one way for the campaigning legions to contact the rest of the Imperium, Consuls of every legion in the Campaign called together to get word of the Imperium beyond these foul warp storms. The air hummed with energy as the relay resonated through the ruined structures that surrounded it, choking dust swirling up from beaten ground gathered at the ankles of a hulk of a man lumbering toward the relay. The ground itself cracking beneath beaten yellow boots, the cracked and faded plating of his once pristine yellow armour causing the dust to cling to it, darkened eyes flickered from side to side as he approached the relay and a cruel sneer flickered across his features. In a low raspy voice he could be heard muttering to himself, the freshness of youth long since gone from his features Prime Centurion Cassius cut an intimidating figure, skin scarred and cracked his embittered features and cold gaze had been known to cut the soul of lesser men.
For centuries Cassius had been a loyal soldier of the Imperial Fists, known for his unflinching nature and genius in devising fortifications. And yet as the warzones unfolded into yet more battles, yet more cruelty a cold dagger had slipped into his heart. In recent years his detachment had served two full campaigns with the war master himself, Cassius saw in the war master a leader who could decisively end the embittered wars that beset the imperium, a man who would lead them into a new empire. And he knew, deep in his heart that in order to build a new beginning there would have to be loses, awful… horrendous losses but the Imperium would be reborn anew.
And now, as he approached the relay years of planning culminated in this one moment, through the swirling dust he managed to pick out another figure approaching it. “Foul dog…” he muttered as through squinted eyes he made out the beaten and scarred armour of the World Eater consul Sivakra Gard. Cassius had served through the campaign at the side of Gard, he had observed the ferocity and vigour with which his men fought, and yet he could hold nothing but disgust for them, they represented a beast suitable for unleashing at a foe, but that role held no purpose in the new beginning. “Brother…” his voice boomed out across the courtyard, the silhouette of Sivakra turning to face him. “Have I ever told you…” the ground shakes as Cassius approached his brother consul “of how honest… truly and deeply my regard for you is.” His lips twisting into a cruel smirk at the World Eaters bemusement “I honestly… truly and deeply despise you, and your very kind, you uncivilised, arrogant DOG” His voice rises in a snarl as his pace increases, charging headlong at the World Eater. Sivakra was not to be caught off-guard though, turning deftly he met his once loyal brother with a resounding boom, chain glaive meeting hammer in ear shattering crunch of ceramite and metal. The pairs weapons met again and again, each striking against the others plate but failing to find their mark, but as Sivakra moved to strike once more Cassius saw his opening, swinging wide his hammer caught his battle brother squarely in the stomach, power armour crumpling the Centurion was thrown backwards into the shattered ruins of a hab unit. As the concrete structure collapsed downwards onto the World Eater, Cassius resumed his grim march toward the comms relay.
Across the courtyard the broken ruins of a warehouse were illuminated by the sudden burst of the Iron Hand Consuls jets flaring to life, springing from his perch Atlas’s cold inhuman eyes surveyed the figures beneath him. His gaze flickered from the shining armour of the Salamander Medicae, eyes searching for a sign of weakness in the man, still… what threat would the Medicae be, when the foul psyker of the Luna Wolves remained in the area. His very presence set the Centurion on edge, teeth gritted at the man’s unnatural powers, not fear but sheer revulsion at the taint of the warp that the man radiated into the area. Wordless the Iron Hand Consul flew across the courtyard, the hiss of power emanating from this pistol as glowing bursts of energy impacted with the ground behind his target, the ancient pistols cooling systems hissing as they struggled to maintain the barrage.
Turning to face this new betrayal Lythander knew better than to let the surprise of this onslaught catch him off-guard, instead marshalling his resolve his eyes took on an ethereal glow, lips moving wordlessly as he raised a hand to the oncoming Iron Hand. As the glow in his eyes culminates in a piercing light he clenches his raised hand into a fist, seeking to crush the very life from his foe, as the tendrils of power snake toward Atlas they fail to find their mark. Bracing to receive the charge Lythander pulls his sidearm, shots ringing out across the courtyard as the shells ricochet off his targets baroque armour.
Primus Medicae Varos, first among apothecaries on the Campaign, son of the Salamanders had come to this field to ensure the safety of his men. Yet as he took a moment to survey the carnage unfolding in front of him the sting of betrayal took him by surprise, the ferocity of the attacks… the very nature of this sting from his brothers dug deep inside him until it found his resolve. He had seen many battles, many wars… so much death but this betrayal would remain with him, the rage from the betrayal fuelled his inner fire, pulling his pistol he began to spring across the battlefield to air brother Lythander, a low whine emanating from the inferno pistol as he took aim at the figure of Atlas, a man he had once stood shoulder to shoulder with.
Growling beneath his breath Cassius continued his steady approach to the shadowed comms relay, eyes flickering across the combat unfolding in front of him he bellowed out across the courtyard “Finish them Atlas, get this done!” the energy from his thunder hammer crackling as his fingers clenched furiously around the handle. Over the din across the battlefield he could hear a faint rumbling from behind him, turning barely in time to great the ferocious charge from Sivakra. The man now covered in dust from the collapsed building his bleeding face was warped into a horrific visage of hatred, chain glaive swung high Sivakra impacted with the hulking form of Cassius, even the heavy terminator armour stumbling backwards with the force of the charge. Crackling hammer met the whirling blades of the axe, dodging a lethal blow from the wicked looking weapon Cassius cracked the World Eater in the nose with the haft of the hammer, taking advantage of his opponents dazed stage to push his attack further.
Not to be beaten by a lesser fighter Sivakra pushed forward again, twisting his chain glaive toward his opponent the whirling teeth of the blade dug deep into his opponent’s leg servos. Crunching through the metal he watches as Cassius fell to his knees, raising the blade for a killing blow his eyes sighted Atlas crushing the Lythander to the dirt with a deft swing of his thunder hammer. Heart pounding with adrenaline as the wicked toxins of the butcher’s nails coursed through his system Sivakra bellowed with excited rage as he broke into a sprint toward the fresh combat, eyes of a wild beast as he gave into his blood lust.
As his foe sunk to the ground Atlas turned his wicked attentions to the figure of the Primus Medicae moving through the shattered ruins toward him, jets firing once more he launched himself at his opponent in a wordless charge, searing heat of Varos’s inferno pistol melting through his ceramite plate Atlas felt the burning heat searing at his shoulder as he impacted with his opponent, the pair sprawling into a tangled mess amidst the broken steps leading up to the comms relay. Varos swung his chain blade as his opponent, trying to keep him at arm’s length till reinforcements could find him, Atlas however knew to press his assault and swung the hammer with all his strength, even as Varos parried the servo’s of his arms straining before failing with a crunch, he fell backwards into the broken steps, his visor cracking as his head impacts with the shattered stone.
Cassius spat blood into the dirt, watching the figure of Sivakra move away from him he mustered his strength, the now dead weight of the broken leg servos making movement difficult. It was a matter of grim resolve that he once more gained his footing, dragging the broken leg along behind him his rasping voice called tauntingly at the World Eaters back “Come now brother…” lips in a twisted grin his blood stained teeth a haunting smile, “I never took you for a COWARD, face me!” Cassius knew his man, the figure of Sivakra turning once more in a rage and charging headlong at the Imperial Fist Centurion. Struggling with his footing from the broken servos Cassius swung his storm shield wide, using his opponent’s momentum to throw Sivakra over him, the world eater scattering through the dirt. Eager to finish his foe for a moment Cassius’s gaze lingered on the half dead World Eater, but he knew he had to prevent the loyalists from getting word out; he would enjoy the death of Sivakra later. Lumbering toward the relay his victory was nearly at hand.
Reaching the tower Cassius began to affix his melta charges to the base station; if they could fell this tower it would cripple loyalist communication in the sector, and cut them off from Terra completely. His arrogant confidence let Cassius feel the sweet taste of victory a moment, however reality began to creep in once more as the hiss of super-heated metal flew past his head and impacted with the dark form of Atlas behind him. The remaining conflict had found him once more, Back to back with his new found ally Atlas and Cassius faced down the trio of loyalists. The snarling form of Sivakra leaping past him to dig his wicked chain axe into Atlas, the pair clashing time and time again as neither managed to find their mark, as the ground trembled at their feet Lythander and the Salamander Varos charged into the fray. Atlas found his mark and threw Sivakra into the dirt, and yet Varos and Lythander ripped victory from his grasp as they impacted with him. Staggering back a step Atlas was beset by the whirling blades of the loyalists, one on one they might not have been a match but Varos and Lythander danced around the staggering form of Atlas, their wicked blades finding their mark in the joints of his armour. A thousand small cuts began to appear in the antiquated armour, and with a howl Lythander dug his blade into the stomach of the Traitorous Iron Hand, dropping him to the ground.
Unable to defend his brother in arms Cassius found himself once again beset by the ferocious Sivakra, both having lost their weaponry in the whirling melee they had resulting to fighting fist to fist. Each landing terrifying blows against the other, ceramite and servos cracking under the force, and yet is was the beastlike World Eater who found the upper hand, sweeping the legs from the lumbering Imperial Fist he stomped power armoured boot upon his opponents throat. As the life was choked from him Cassius’s grasping hand found his holster, struggling for breath his desperate fingers struggled to pull the pistol, raising it in his last gasp of life the round echoed out, the heat of the blast scorching the face of Sivakra.
Dust began to settle the scarred yet victorious managed to reach the comms relay, managing to broadcast for just a moment their joy was to be short lived. The sky itself illuminating in one shining moment a beam from the heavens impacted with the spire of the comms relay, the trio flung themselves into cover as the lance blast detonated the comms relay. Hopefully it had been enough… hopefully word had got out…
Cassius dragged himself out of the rubble, bruised and bleeding he scoured the surroundings for signs of his foes, instead spying Atlas stood over the ruins of the tower. “They’re gone…” the cold tones of atlas carrying on the still air “what do we do now…”
Raising himself up defiantly the rubble fell away from Cassius’s form, one eye held shut from the searing heat of the lance blast. “Now… we finish what we’ve started. Signal the fleet… we’re going to war.”
The battle ended with a loyalist victory, however it was hard fought.
So far here is where we are miniatures wise:
From left to right it goes: Cassius, Varos, Lythander, Sivarka, Atlas
Some in need of painting (or repainting) but all good to fight!
Since I've been preparing a while my force is more... complete than others, so here's where I sit atm
with my Imperial Fists (just turned traitor)
Prime Centurion Cassius, Scourge of the Devechi, The Stone Templar
Venerable Petronius - Contemptor Mortis
Legion Fire Raptor
The Legion So far.
Stay tuned as more is to come, the Heresy will unfold and many will fall! (And more miniatures will appear)