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Black Crusade - Rorke Mahler, Champion of the Iron Warriors  [RSS] Share on facebook Share on Twitter Submit to Reddit
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Made in us
Longtime Dakkanaut




Maryland

So! I finally finished up my character sheet for my in-game persona for Black Crusade. I decided, as a Chaos Marine amongst human renegades, a Champion would be best, and a personal love of siege craft made an Iron Warrior the logical choice. So, Rorke Mahler was created. In an effort to give the Character a life of his own, I decided to come up with a fairly extensive background for the guy, which I'm very happy to share with all of you - I hope you enjoy!

Rorke Mahler was born over 10,000 years ago on the planet Olympia. He was one of the first Olympians to be inducted into the Iron Warriors Legion, and as such had always had a disrespect for the Terrans of the legion, who he saw as inferior. Fighting during the Great Crusade, Mahler rose to a position of preeminence within the legion. While never promoted to Captain (something Mahler has always regretted), his knowledge of siege warfare and ferocity in combat made him somewhat of a hero.

While Mahler was not a member of the part of the legion that slaughtered the rebellion on Olympia, his devotion to his legion and Primarch saw him fully committed to the Iron Warriors during the Horus Heresy. Indeed, it was Mahler who was one of the first through the great breach that the Traitor Legions had rent into the walls protecting the Emperor’s Fortress on Terra, and this was where Mahler had his first true encounter with death.


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Rorke Mahler laughed as he ran forward, his power sword a white blur as he cut through defender after defender. Moments before, the great wall that the prideful Imperial Fists had so poorly erected had fallen to the forces of Horus, and now Mahler could taste the victory that lay ahead. A Guardsman to his left swung his lasgun up to fire, but with a swat of Mahler’s armored hand he shattered the man’s face and sent him flying aside.

An Astartes rolled out from behind a defensive barricade, his sanguine-red armor showing him to be a Blood Angel. Mahler dodged a burst of bolter fire, while unleashing a few shots with his own plasma pistol. The intensity with which the plasma struck the loyalist was enough to stagger him, allowing Mahler the time he needed to close with Blood Angel. He grabbed the loyalist by the throat and, with his right hand, drove his power sword down through the top of his enemy’s helmet, cruelly twisting the blade as he sank its full length down into the body. The smell of burning blood and ozone was strong enough to make it into Mahler’s helmet, and he reveled in the sickly sweet, stink. He withdrew the blade and tossed the dead Astartes aside as a squad of Iron Warriors, with human auxiliaries in tow, arrived.

‘What now, sire?’ the squad leader asked.

Mahler thought for a moment, then looked up to the closest of the massive bunkers that helped to defend the walls. ‘There,’ he said, pointing. ‘Take that position. Try to keep the loyalist bastards from destroying the guns within. With that strongpoint, we will be able to turn their very guns against them.’ A suitable punishment for the folly that the Fists have wrought, thought Mahler. The Iron Warriors bowed to Mahler, and then moved out. Mahler laughed as he saw the humans try to keep up.

Mahler was about to leave himself when a moment of alarm went through him, and he flinched, ducking down. This flinch saved him as a power sword hummed overhead, passing through empty air where Mahler’s head had been only seconds ago. The Iron Warrior quickly drew his own sword, igniting it as he swiped at where he believed his foe was. A strangled cry gave Mahler the satisfaction of knowing he had wounded his enemy, so he rolled further away, coming up and putting his sword into a guarding position.

There stood an Imperial Fist, his armor decorated in gold filigree, purity seals flowing in the hot air. Mahler smiled as he saw the Astartes clutching at his side, a few lines of blood marring the impeccable shine of his armor.

‘You were lucky, traitor,’ the loyalist spat, raising a massive greatsword in two hands. It crackled with energy, lightning skimming across the blade’s surface. ‘You will not be so this time.’

‘We shall see, brother,’ Mahler replied, his voice dripping with malice.

The two armored giants raced towards each other, and with the very first strike, Mahler knew he was outclassed. The Imperial Fist was simply too good, even with Mahler’s talent with his blade. The loyalist handled his massive weapon with more grace than anyone could expect. It seemed to dance in his hands, and Mahler soon found himself being forced backwards, closer and closer to the edge of the platform that they fought on. Mahler knew the drop was too far for anything, even an Astartes, to survive, and so he began to back away deliberately, hoping to draw the Fist forward.

It worked – until the greatsword, in one fluid motion, slipped through Mahler’s defenses and cut his right arm off at the shoulder. In an instant, the sword then retreated and lashed out again, stabbing into Mahler’s stomach. Mahler cried out and fell back, slamming into the wall that separated platform from abyss. Mahler knew the wounds were too severe for even his physiology – his Larraman’s Organ could not stem the tide of blood that flowed forth.

The Imperial Fist removed his helmet, revealing a proud, well-defined face that gazed upon Mahler’s ruined form. ‘It is over, scum.’ The Imperial Fist stabbed his greatsword into the ground and raised Mahler up, removing the Iron Warrior’s helmet as well. ‘I, Marik d'Arquebus, cast you into in the void, as we shall cast the rest of you traitors into hell. You are finished.’

‘Not…yet,’ Mahler managed to croak, and used the last advantage he had over the Imperial Fist – his Betcher’s Gland. Mahler spat acid into d’Arquebus’ eyes, momentarily blinding him. The loyalist cried out and staggered backwards, dropping Mahler to his feet. Summoning every ounce of hatred Mahler could find, he grabbed the Imperial Fist and swung him out past the protective wall, out into thin air. The Imperial Fist fell, silently.

Fighting blood loss and wooziness, Mahler staggered over to his power sword, and managed to grab a hold of it before darkness took him.



More coming soon!


This message was edited 8 times. Last update was at 2011/10/26 02:54:22


   
Made in gb
Khorne Rhino Driver with Destroyer





The Eye of Terror

Very good! I like him already!!
Nice story, please post more. Although i dont play Black Crusade, i would love to hear more of Mahlers expliots.

Iron within, Iron Without!!!

my chaos marine blog-http://www.dakkadakka.com/dakkaforum/posts/list/30/462647.page
Eating Michael Douglas to know what its like to get some action from Catherine Zeta Jones probably wouldn't work
 
   
 
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