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Made in us
Stabbin' Skarboy

Crusade of Fury 2

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

please visit our out of character chat room



Luna Maximus

Luna Epsilon

Map Key

Imperium of Man:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chaos Super Friends:

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Orbital Space Station


Timeline of the Crion Crusade


Timeline of the Crion Crusade (Thanks to Sgt_Smudge)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Crion Index

COF II index

Player Characters 


Stone Wardens Space Marines

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

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

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

Inquisitor Garrett Randal warband

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

House Valorn

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bloodmoon Hunters Space Marine Chapter 2nd Company

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

49th 'Redeemers' Imperial Guard Regiment

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

Captain Coirich Vitear

Captain Bruscius Matesius

Captain Irlonius Sibario

85th Scions

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

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

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

The Emperor’s Hounds

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

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

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

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

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

Baltair Seoc - Chapter Master, former Chief Apothecary

The 1st Calian Dragoons, a Tempestus regiment.

Tempestor Prime Akio Goya

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



Da Iron Horde

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

WAAAGH WarpRida (see first COF for full back story)

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

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

Da Doof. Ork shaman who helps guide Nox


Skyhunter Cadre.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kroot Pack Ta'lok

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rix'lan Coalition

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

Shas'El Melek- Leads Kavaal Aloh

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


Craft World Iybraesil

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

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

The Masque of the Blameless Culprit 

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

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

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

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

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

The Reaper's Mirth

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

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


Hive Fleet Cerberus: 

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

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


Vazskphores Dyansty

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

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

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

Kageros Dynasty

Kageros- Phaeron

Rak'than- Nemesor

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

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


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

Chaos Chaos

Flayed Legion

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

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

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

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

Plague Cult Garathal and Beast Kin

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

Brother Anlock - Aspiring champion leads the plague marines

Kremus - speaks for the Mutant Cultists

Baezael - Beastman shaman and speaks for his beastmen kin

Drelos - Minotaur

Kalnar - Minotaur

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

Mason Lee - Real name unknown Garathal's infiltrator agent

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


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

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


Crion Loyalist

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

Javier Maldonado: The Lord Mayor of Ros Hannoi

Lord Mayor Lawson Barlow: The Lord Mayor of Nortannis

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

This message was edited 37 times. Last update was at 2016/08/27 07:07:35

Made in gb
Ultramarine Librarian with Freaky Familiar

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Likewise, Shadowbrand. Likewise."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shadowbrand spoke."Whatever we like."

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

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


Made in ie
Nurgle Veteran Marine with the Flu

Cork, Ireland

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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
Rotting Sorcerer of Nurgle

The Dog-house

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

* * *

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

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

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

This message was edited 1 time. Last update was at 2016/05/01 20:53:34

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 gb
Intoxicated Centigor

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gargant Hunting

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This message was edited 1 time. Last update was at 2016/03/15 20:32:02

Irishpeacockz-Blackjack needs a pay raise for being the welcomer to the crusade
Palleus-Write a school essay about Kroot! Pride. Prejudice. And Cannibalsim. 
Made in us
Scuttling Genestealer

Crion - Chasing after small rodents

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

TheEyeOfNight-I want a little ripper of my own now, I will call it Little Buddy, and I will feed it the spleens of my enemies. 
Made in gb
Bread for Battle!


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

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

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

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

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

[ Mordian 183rd ] - an ongoing Imperial Guard story with crayon drawings!
[ "I can't believe it's not Dakka!" ] - a buttery painting and crafting blog
Made in es
Dakka Veteran

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

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

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

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

Working on it

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

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

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

<Dynasty> ~10500pts
War Coven of the Coruscating Gaze ~3000pts
Thrice-Damned Plague Corps ~3250pts
Admech (TBN) ~3500pts +30k Bots and Ulator

Made in au
Adopted Son of the Emperor

Flailing on the beach like a beached whale. While also wearing fashionable panties.

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

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

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

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

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

Edit: Nevermind my previous statement...

This message was edited 1 time. Last update was at 2016/03/15 22:28:00

TheEyeOfNight I swear, this thread is 70% smack talk, 20% RP organization, and 10% butt jokes.
Tactical_Spam Vanden clearly loves making sweet sweet love to his school. He is the most passionate, learning oriented individual you will ever meet.
War Kitten You should ask nicely before hitting people with your stick Vanden. We're a polite society after all.
2BlackJack1 Snow is great though. Snowmen, snowball fights, frostbite, snow forts, what's not to love?
Kharne the Befriender It's just the smug look of eternal irony while you wait for Creed to pull out his Baneblade so you can steal it.
War Kitten I love how this has gone from a deathly serious war to a discussion about how Vanden is secretly a whale wearing panties. Welcome to the Crusade of Fury.
Irishpeacockz Well this crusade will be endless then as I imagine Vandan has a large collection of inflatables lying around
Made in us
One Canoptek Scarab in a Swarm

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

 Tactical_Spam wrote:
Considering how Paradoxical that statement is, Vlad is very much alive as he is dead.

Made in de
Shrieking Traitor Sentinel Pilot

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

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

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

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

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

* * * *

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

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

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

"Do you see the wall, Isaac?"

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

"Bring it down."

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

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


* * * *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

* * * *

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

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

You will not live to the dawn.


The Flayed Legion, featuring:

Lazarus as the Demagogue

Bukhis as the Bull

Medraut as the Champion

Nagana as the Apostle

A'Khel as the Sorcerer

Crixus as the Madman

Tyre as the Bloodborn


The Flayed Lord as Himself

War Kitten- Nothing evens the odds like a reaper chainsword to the naughty bits
Sgt. Vanden- And now I'm a whale with panties. Can't see how this day can get any better.

Fiction: God-Fang (Beastmen) / The Flayed Legion (CSM)

Made in us
Ultramarine Master with Gauntlets of Macragge

What's left of Cadia

Knight Intro Part Two

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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
Loyal Necron Lychguard

Working on it

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

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

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

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

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

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

There were monsters in the void

<Dynasty> ~10500pts
War Coven of the Coruscating Gaze ~3000pts
Thrice-Damned Plague Corps ~3250pts
Admech (TBN) ~3500pts +30k Bots and Ulator

Made in us
Rotting Sorcerer of Nurgle

The Dog-house

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

* * *

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

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

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 us
Master Shaper

Gargant Hunting

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Irishpeacockz-Blackjack needs a pay raise for being the welcomer to the crusade
Palleus-Write a school essay about Kroot! Pride. Prejudice. And Cannibalsim. 
Made in us
Scuttling Genestealer

Crion - Chasing after small rodents

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

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

This message was edited 1 time. Last update was at 2016/03/17 01:40:05

TheEyeOfNight-I want a little ripper of my own now, I will call it Little Buddy, and I will feed it the spleens of my enemies. 
Made in au
Adopted Son of the Emperor

Flailing on the beach like a beached whale. While also wearing fashionable panties.

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

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

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

This message was edited 2 times. Last update was at 2016/03/22 01:56:10

TheEyeOfNight I swear, this thread is 70% smack talk, 20% RP organization, and 10% butt jokes.
Tactical_Spam Vanden clearly loves making sweet sweet love to his school. He is the most passionate, learning oriented individual you will ever meet.
War Kitten You should ask nicely before hitting people with your stick Vanden. We're a polite society after all.
2BlackJack1 Snow is great though. Snowmen, snowball fights, frostbite, snow forts, what's not to love?
Kharne the Befriender It's just the smug look of eternal irony while you wait for Creed to pull out his Baneblade so you can steal it.
War Kitten I love how this has gone from a deathly serious war to a discussion about how Vanden is secretly a whale wearing panties. Welcome to the Crusade of Fury.
Irishpeacockz Well this crusade will be endless then as I imagine Vandan has a large collection of inflatables lying around
Made in us
Stabbin' Skarboy

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

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

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

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

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

Shortly before the Valorn/Cyrene duel

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

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

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

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

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

This message was edited 3 times. Last update was at 2016/04/21 07:39:04

Made in be
Thunderhawk Pilot Dropping From Orbit

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

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

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

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

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

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

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




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

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

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

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 de
Shrieking Traitor Sentinel Pilot

Lord Eisell was beset by terrible dreams that night.

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

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

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

And then he dreamed no more.

* * * *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

* * * *

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

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

They were an army now.

* * * *


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

War Kitten- Nothing evens the odds like a reaper chainsword to the naughty bits
Sgt. Vanden- And now I'm a whale with panties. Can't see how this day can get any better.

Fiction: God-Fang (Beastmen) / The Flayed Legion (CSM)

Made in es
Dakka Veteran

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

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

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

This message was edited 1 time. Last update was at 2016/03/17 18:38:18

Made in ca
Heroic Senior Officer

Krieg! What a hole...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'' Patch it ''

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'' A week at the very least ''

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Riley nodded '' And then what? ''

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

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

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

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

The Tempestor Secundus nodded and left to prepare herself.

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 us
Loyal Necron Lychguard

Working on it

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

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

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

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

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

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

<Dynasty> ~10500pts
War Coven of the Coruscating Gaze ~3000pts
Thrice-Damned Plague Corps ~3250pts
Admech (TBN) ~3500pts +30k Bots and Ulator

Made in us
Ultramarine Master with Gauntlets of Macragge

What's left of Cadia

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

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

A few weeks later……..

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

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 gb
Bread for Battle!


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

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

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

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

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

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


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

[ Mordian 183rd ] - an ongoing Imperial Guard story with crayon drawings!
[ "I can't believe it's not Dakka!" ] - a buttery painting and crafting blog
Made in gb
Ultramarine Librarian with Freaky Familiar

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

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

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

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

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

Both Shadowbrand and Skyhunter accepted this without question.

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

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

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

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

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

This message was edited 1 time. Last update was at 2016/03/19 12:19:05


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