Prologue: Big Iron
Paradise Lost – Part I.

Starshiy Serzhant Aleksandr Nikolayevich Komarov marched out of Kotlin to defend the Imperial order he believed passionately in and to liberate his birthplace from rebellion. He fought bravely in numerous actions and was the recipient of several field promotions, rising to Komandir Batalona within six months of war breaking out. He died unregarded in the mud outside Cebastopol; half of his skull blown away by an errant artillery shell fired by his comrades as he and his battalion assaulted a rebel position.

The Kommissars called it 'collateral damage'.

She read the line again, quite unable to believe that such a thing had been committed to print in the first place. The words didn't swim, didn't change. “The famous man looked at the red cup” they read. She laughed to herself, rested the slate on her rounded stomach and wondered about a society that could venerate such rubbish. She thought of Sanya, miles away fighting for his beliefs and again prayed that the Emperor would see him well. He would be surprised in the change in her since he left; she had written but did not know whether he had received her letters. All was well, said the wire. The rebels had been pushed back to the outskirts by heavy shelling and minimal losses had been sustained. The war would be over in weeks. Sanya would return to the factory, they would marry and together they would embark on this new chapter of life.

The months passed, and Sanya did not return. A year and Sanya did not return, did not yet know about the boy so far as she knew. Then, a letter. She read 'missing in action, presumed deceased' and wept. Eventually, the rebels were defeated and their surviving leaders were summarily executed in Kotlin's Main Square. Sanya did not return.

Seven years went by and the boy's grandfather said it was time. He lived in a brutal and lawless world and he had to know how to fight or he would be finished before he even got going. She didn't – couldn't – disagree. It was obvious that Kronstaat IV had never really recovered from "The People's War", as it became known. Central government had not been able to fully reassert control, crime was rife and you could not rely on the Arbites who were more concerned with their own prestige and power than maintaining order. Reluctantly, she agreed and the boy was given his father's stub gun, a relic of a man who went to war and never came home. The boy was not large and was not well nourished and the pistol hung prominent and ostentatious on his hip.

Between the Wars – Part II.

Leonid Aleksandrovich Komarov eyed him across the room. He saw him spit, saw him take a gulp of his zydrate, saw him toss a few creds on the bar and stand up, swaying slightly. He watched him leave, followed him across the square, across the market, down a dark laneway and shot him in the back of the head. He watched him crumple, dropped the pistol to the floor and then faded away into the cold night.

It was his fifteenth birthday.

The situation on Kronstaat IV did not improve. Resistance to Imperial rule intensified and was allegedly crushed in joint actions between the pink-robed Arbites and the Defence Force that made lots of noise and caused colossal destruction but which in reality seemed to achieve little.

It had been immediately apparent that dropping the pistol at the scene had been his biggest mistake. Being seen tailing the victim out of a drinking hole and across three busy city blocks had done him no favours, either. Shooting his mother's boyfriend couldn't have been more obvious in the circumstances, said others. Still though, the presence of a firearm that distinctive, that jealously guarded and that well-known was fatal to any presumption of innocence in the public mind. Ballistic testing confirmed what everyone already knew. Gunshot residue testing nailed the coffin firmly shut. It was an open and shut case and so the public advokat did the best she could, which is how he had ended up spending the last five years serving in the 29th Army of the Kronstaat IV Worker's Defence Force. It was, without question, also how he had ended up in his current predicament; on the front-lines in the Rzhev 'meat-grinder', flanked by giants clad in purple.

Maraviglia – Part III.

KomBat Stepan Maximovich Petrichenko surveyed his Battalion, sighed noisily, then told them that they had been double-crossed and would certainly die within days. Of course, there were protestations. It couldn't possibly be true, all was proceeding according to the plan and Kronstaat IV's future would be secured within weeks. Steely determination was all that was required; by the people for the people. Petrichenko patiently laid out everything he knew. There was no denying it; they had been duped. They had been used as pawns in a game they couldn't even suspect existed and they had been sold at a great loss.

They were Heretics.

He had not seen Soshnikov for days. He hoped he had deserted. Poor Soshnikov, he had known. Had tried to warn them and had been dismissed.

He couldn't have known. They couldn't have known.

A signal chimed down the line. Ladders were placed.

If he had to do it all over, he'd shoot that abusive son of a bitch again. No question.

A second signal chimed and over he went, into darkness.

+++The following excerpt is reproduced, without permission, from The Inquisitor's Guide to the Galaxy, 3rd Ordo Malleus Ed., revised+++

The Kronstaat system is located to the Galactic east of Agripinaa and to the Galactic west of Fenris, on the main Cadia-Terra/Mars supply route and relatively close to the Eye of Terror itself. Despite this location, the system has been spared much of the ravages of the region and has endured without major attack for almost three thousand Terran years now. Because of this location – and the abundant mineral resources under the systems's planets – it forms a minor, but vital, part of the gargantuan apparatus designed to feed the Cadian Gate.

It is composed of six planets, numbered 1-6 rather than named. Only K4 and K5 possess breathable atmospheres, though climactic conditions render the surface of K5 inhospitable to human life in extremis Imperial presence on K1, K2, K3 and K6 is limited to a single mining facility with a Defence Force garrison on each. K5, known locally as 'Lubyanka' [dead link], is currently designated a prison planet. Latest records show a population of ca. 450m resident inmates.

K4 is a similar size to Terra and has a current population of some 60bn living across four habitable continents, known locally as 'oblasts'. To the north and south are frozen poles where temperatures in mid-summer struggle to rise above -50c. All four oblasts lie separated by small seas, except Krim and Volga Oblasts, which are separated by the 12,000km wide K4/C-137, known locally as Ladoga Ocean.

All four habitable oblasts are covered, to an extent between 96 and 99%, by high, steep mountain ranges which cannot support intensive housing schemes, accordingly the population is low compared to other planets of comparable size and mineral wealth and the population concentrated in a few centres. Ten [?] cities currently exist on K4, all are principally concerned with refining mineral ore in some capacity. Excepting Kirch, Oradour and Oryel, all of the cities and both the Korova and Konev Facilities possess star-ports.


Map of K4
Transit between population centres is achieved by means of light rail and road networks in thin ribbons between the harsh terrain. Most transit between oblasts still takes place via water, surprisingly, though flight is also readily available and in use amongst the planet's elite and intelligentsia.

K4 is exempt from Astra Militarum planetary tithes owing to its largescale production of essential raw materials, but is required to maintain a standing Planetary Defence Force. Despite being known as the K4 Defence Force, they are actually tasked with maintaining the security of all the system's planets. At any one time approximately 25% of the planet's population is enlisted, and over half are based in garrisons in and around Kotlin. Organizationally, they are best described as 'unorthodox';

- 100 troopers, or 'soldats' as they are known locally, comprises a Battalion and is led by a 'KomBat' (Komandir Batalona, in the local language) of rank roughly equivalent to a Captain;
- 20 Battalions makes a Company ('Roty'), led by a 'KomRot' (Komandir Roty - Colonel);
- 10 Companys make a Brigade, led by a 'KomBrig' (Komandir Brigada - Brigadier);
- 15 Brigades make a Regiment ('Polk'), led by a 'KomPol' (Komandir Polkovoy - Major General);
- 15 Regiments make a Corps, led by a 'KomKor' (Lieutenant-General);
- 20 Corps makes an Army, led by a 'KomArm' (General).

They are equipped and armed by freighters en route to Cadia and therefore bear a striking resemblance to the famed Cadian 'Shock Troops'.

Each population centre, maintains at least one Adeptus Arbites garrison. The presence of the Ecclesiarchy is negligible. Locally, rumours persist that the Korova Facility, founded by His Holiness Archbishop 'Len' Brennan in M36, is an Adepta Sororitas training camp, but there is no truth to this at all. The Korova, in fact, is no longer an Ecclesiarchy property, being transferred to [redacted] in [redacted] owing to [redacted].

Notwithstanding that the system has not faced major attack in recorded history, Kronstaat remains a vital link in fundamental Galactic defenses and supply chains and its loss would have severe 'knock-on' effects for Cadia and other vital Imperial interests. Therefore each population centre and mining facility on each of the system's six planets possesses several Planetary Defence batteries and each is perfectly capable of fending off a medium-sized fleet without aid.

As a result of the strong defenses, large Defence Force, numerous extra-planetary probes and proximity to Fenris the security status of the system is – low; least concern.

- Last Edited by =][=Toth420 [view edit history]

Voyna Narodnaya; Once Upon A Beginning
Petrov's Defence - Part I.

It started, as these things often do, innocently enough on 616.808M41. A young man, known to be fond of the zydrate, had been walking back to his hab-block one evening when, upon navigating a particularly troublesome corner, he had lost all balance and stumbled face-first into a passing hover-freight travelling well in excess of the posted limits.

He died, of course. It was a terrible shame, of course. Nothing was done, of course. No family could be found and so off he went into a mass grave. A few former colleagues raised a fuss at the shoddy treatment of a fellow worker, nobody was interested. A few more former colleagues raised a bigger fuss and before anyone knew it supervisors were put against the wall and Oddyssa, a city of 500m, was alight.

The Arbites waded in, achieving significant early gains and pushing the workers back into the industrial maze of Oddyssa's central district. The Honourable Justice Rodion Ivanovich Petrov, in overall command of Arbite forces in the district, elected to lay seige to the workers. As an example to others considering challenging the Arbites, they would be starved.

It is not entirely clear what happened inside the seige-lines but what is clear is that on the morning of the sixth day a horde of workers attacked the western flank of Petrov's Arbites and broke out, screaming unintelligible gibberish. They quickly circled back and attacked neighbouring Arbite forces from the rear. In the confusion, more workers poured through the breach. With his line collapsing, Petrov committed his reserves, but they were too few to stem the tide. The horde simply over-ran them. He called for reinforcements. None were available and the Defence Force were a day away, at least, and couldn't be spared in any event. Desperate, Petrov threw in everything he had. Fighting swirled inconclusively for three days with no clear front-line before the workers prevailed and turned their sights on the star-port. Petrov was captured and hanged.

Oddyssa's star-port was under-strength and garrisoned only by the 62nd Independent Coastal Army. For days the soldats had faced the prospect of turning their weapons on fellow workers, possibly people they knew or family members even. Indeed, initially some units did refuse to fire – and were appropriately censured – but the sheer violence of the worker's attack meant that for most soldats self-preservation was a more pressing concern than ethics. For six days the rabble assaulted the star-port, for six days the star-port was held. A message was received, forces were being mobilised to reinforce the 62nd Coastal. Then on the evening of the seventh day, another message was received; reinforcements had been diverted and the 62nd Coastal was ordered to withdraw. There were more pressing concerns and they were needed elsewhere.

The city of Oddyssa was to be sacrificed.

Panic! at the STAFFKA - Part II.

News of the insurrection was tightly controlled, but word got out that Imperial agents were persecuting Oddyssa's workers regardless. Solidarity protests were attempted in all of Kronstaat IV's major cities and facilities and all were crushed with extreme prejudice. All except in Cebastopol. In Cebastopol, the seat of Imperial power in the west, the workers fell upon the Arbites and the Defence Force with a ferocity and frenzy that scarcely seemed human. Within a week almost two-thirds of the entire workforce of the city, some 850m people and abhumans, were mobilized against the Imperial regime. For two weeks the entire Arbites garrison and six entire Defence Force armies were pushed back inexorably to the harbour and Cebastopol's star-port. Within three weeks the Arbites were no more and the Defence Force's 3rd, 34th, 42nd, 55th, 8th Independent Coastal and 16th Independent Coastal Armies were pinned down at the star-port.

It has been argued in the years since that six professional Armies, still close to full-strength, dug-in to strong, prepared, defensive positions should easily be expected to hold out against civilian rabble armed mostly with cutting lazers and bits of pipe. The argument has its merits, but it ignores that those six armies had previously been expected to easily hold the line and yet had been relentlessly driven back by that civilian rabble into a small, admittedly defensively-ideal, pocket. It also ignores that stemming the flow of Heretics was not good enough, nothing less than annihilation would do. Whatever the reasoning, STAFFKA sent orders from Kotlin; they had decided that Cebastopol and Krim Oblast were more strategically important than Oddyssa and Kirov Oblast were and that six armies were not, in fact, enough. Kirov Oblast could be retaken later.

The fall of Cebastopol simply could not be countenanced.

Rodina - Part III.

Somebody had to hold the line while the rest of the 62nd Coastal were re-deployed. Somebody had to make the harbour and star-port unusable after they had gone. Many had volunteered, few had been chosen. She used to work with explosives in the mine, so she had been one of them.

The noise here was unbearable now. At least she wouldn't have to listen to it for much longer. She wrapped the last wire, stood up and sent the mission-complete code. They were the last. They had nearly been too late.

She looked at her squad, looked at the gate, raised her lasgun. They followed suit. The screams from outside were unimportant; the incessant babbling of the rabble just vibrations in air. She looked at the panel as the gate gave and the horde flooded through. 00.33.4. They had done it. Oddyssa would rise again and Cebastopol would be saved.

She smiled as she fired. It was a good day to die.

Voyna Naradnoya II: Something Wicked This Way Comes
The Incident at Site 9 – Part I.

On 646.828M41, Konev Facility's Site 9 failed to report. Repeated hails were not answered. Located high on a remote plateau in the northern Ura Mountains, Site 9 was a weather-monitoring station with around 100,000 staff. Air reconnaissance of the area reported an impenetrable blanket of thick cloud and violent electrical storms making approach by air nigh-suicidal and so a Defence Force Battalion was loaded into Chimeras and dispatched on the two-day overland journey.

On the evening of the first day, KomBat Tikhonov reported that the cloud extended to ground-level and his forward patrols were approaching. Three hours after that, Tikhonov reported that he had been forced to halt by weather conditions at the Diatlov Pass. Four hours later his vox-channel opened, but no message was received. Tikhonov did not respond to hails.

After much deliberation and procrastination, with aerial patrols reporting the cloud and the storms remaining firmly in place, a further overland expeditionary force was launched; four Battalions strong this time. As before, Expedition Leader KomRot Kuznetsova reported her forward patrols entering the cloud on the evening of the first day. Four hours later, she reported entering the Diatlov Pass. Then, silence. For thirteen hours nothing further was heard from the expedition. A third expedition was being mobilized when, weakly, Kuznetsova's vox-channel opened;

“...impossible to say what happened here and I am not inclined to speculate. Here are the facts: At 0100 forward patrols entered the Diatlov Pass. At 0135 long-range comms failed. At 0245, forward patrols found the Chimeras of Tikhonov's Battalion seemingly hastily abandoned. They found no evidence of damage to any of the vehicles. At 410 they began to discover arms and armour, apparently discarded. At 0425, they found Tikhonov's Battalion. At 0440, they found Tikhonov. Each soldat was discovered in a state of undress, in advanced rigor mortis. Each was missing lips, nose and eyeballs. No other injuries were observed. Tikhonov and his command staff were decapitated by means unknown; the wounds cauterized. No blood-spatter or pooling was found. Tikhonov's genitals had been removed and were not found. No other injures were observed. Their heads were not found. No evidence of any hostile force could be found. No evidence of survivors was found. I have ordered four squads to remain in the Pass and the advance on Site 9 to proceed. Message repeats: This is KomRot Tatyana Mikhailovna Kuznetsova of Second Expedition, we have located Tikhonov. However, it is...”

The message repeated for almost two hours, then cut out as suddenly as it began. Kuznetsova did not respond to hails.

Before Third Expedition were loaded into their Chimeras, it was reported that the cloud was dissipating so they were disembarked and then re-embarked onto Arvus Lighters. Further reports indicated that the cloud was in fact not dissipating, so they went back into the Chimeras. Finally, it was determined that the cloud was dissipating and they disembarked the Chimeras a final time and re-embarked into the Arvus Lighters again. The flight to Site 9 was unremarkable, though heavy fog remained in the area. Despite being repeatedly hailed on approach, there was no response from the ground. On landing they found the site powered, but seemingly abandoned. The sites vehicle fleet was discovered undamaged and five squads were ordered down to Diatlov Pass.

Third Expedition searched Site 9 inch-by-inch but discovered no trace of any of the staff, their remains or indeed any clues at all as to their fate. Personal effects were not removed. No evidence was found to suggest the presence of hostile forces. Squads scouting the Pass found the corpses of Tikhonov and his Battalion but nobody alive; no evidence of hostilities and no further bodies. No trace was found of Second Expedition until the third day of searching when, in a supply store, the headless body of KomRot Kuznetsova was found slumped against the backwall. Above her were two words scrawled in blood;

“Tamam Shud”

The blood was not hers and remains unidentified. Her head was not found.

Vox Populi – Part II.

Lizz Kroekin wrote:OMG I canot beleve what I am reading!! are you all IDIOTS??? Hav you even read kews posts? VOyna naradnoya was a FASLE FLAG! The elites in Kotlin started it! DO YOUR RESEARCH !!!!11! They insistigated Oddyssa so that Cebastopol would rebel and they could KILL everyone. Two billion comrades ded!!! WAKE UP!!11!! This is teir paln, they are EVIL!! DAEMON-WORHIPPERS!! and we are just SACRFICES!! for their scik socalled god. I have a freind in the K4WDF so I now what iam talking abut.

CSKAMoskva4lyfe42 wrote:Daemons aren't real, you ninny.

Kryten wrote:

Lizz Kroekin wrote:-snip-

Go back to school.

Ivan Denisovich69 wrote:Right, I totally believe your “freind” is totally 'in' on this totally secret plan. I imagine all 15bn K4WDF soldats know about it.

Knees wrote:

Ivan Denisovich69 wrote:Right, I totally believe your “freind” is totally 'in' on this totally secret plan. I imagine all 15bn K4WDF soldats know about it.

LMAO

Alana_Krebs9965 wrote:Krimean women want to meet you! Click here!

Ovechkinator wrote:

Alana_Krebs9965 wrote:Krimean women want to meet you! Click here!

Die in a fire.

foodbabefan wrote:Well, actually, STAFFKA did allow Oddyssa to fall to run up the casualties but the rebellion in Cebastopol wasn't intended at the time. There's a relic in Cebastopol they need to summon daemons so I doubt they'd purposely endanger it.

Bill Posters is Innocent!!! wrote:[Citation Needed]

Knees wrote:

Bill Posters is Innocent!!! wrote:[Citation Needed]

LMAO.

Dasha_Ivanova73923 wrote:I earn 40 credits an hour working from my Hab-block. Click here to find out how you can too!

Nunc pro Tunc wrote:Daemons don't exist. Are you literally five years old?

Knees wrote:

Nunc pro Tunc wrote:

foodbabefan wrote:Well, actually, STAFFKA did allow Oddyssa to fall to run up the casualties but the rebellion in Cebastopol wasn't intended at the time. There's a relic in Cebastopol they need to summon daemons so I doubt they'd purposely endanger it.

Daemons don't exist. Are you literally five years old?

looooooooooooool

WeAllFloatDownHere wrote:

Lizz Kroekin wrote:OMG I canot beleve what I am reading!! are you all IDIOTS??? Hav you even read kews posts? VOyna naradnoya was a FASLE FLAG! The elites in Kotlin started it! DO YOUR RESEARCH!!!!11! They insistigated Oddyssa so that Cebastopol would rebel and they could KILL everyone. Two billion comrades ded!!! WAKE UP!!11!! This is teir paln, they are EVIL!! DAEMON-WORHIPPERS!! and we are just SACRFICES!! for their scik socalled god. I have a freind in the K4WDF so I now what iam talking abut.

Nurse? Nurse? He's out of bed again, nurse.

- republished from freerepublic.net.co.k4

The End of the Beginning - Part III.

At 0608 Central Kotlin Time on 656.828M41, contact was lost with K1, K2, K3, K5 and K6 along with the Lavochkin, Rokossovsky and Chuikov Mines on Volga Oblast; the Konev Facility and Oradour on Oktyabrskoy Oblast and Kirch on Krim Oblast. The Korova Facility, Ilyushin and Lyudaskaya Mines, along with Oddyssa, Cebastopol and Oryel reported that they were under attack by worker rabbles.

On the far edge of the Kronstaat system, in the bleak darkness, something ancient stirred. It was detected by a probe, which prepared a report and released it into the labryinthian Imperial bureaucracy.

By the time anyone noticed the report, it was far too late.

Voyna Naradnoya II: Vlasovtsy
Room 429 - Part I.

The table was long, narrow, bland and surrounded by serious-looking people in grey uniforms. On one wall was a large map of Kronstaat IV and current hostilities. It was bleak viewing. Another telescreen flickered into life; an image of a short, fat man in a dazzlingly white uniform, breast bedecked with medals and ribands, beamed into the room. Marshal Grabovski stood and began to speak.

“Cebastopol and Oddyssa have fallen, star-ports intact. Kirch, Oradour and Oryel have fallen. Front Komandir Yushkevich reports that Volgograd Front can hold out for no more than two weeks with current strength and supplies. Moskva Front and Rzhev Front are encircled, but well-equipped and armed and expected to hold. Kotlin Front is encircled.” He let this hang. “We still have no word from the moons or any facility outside of the cities and they must be assumed to have fallen.” He eyed the crowd, warily, unsure how to proceed. What he said next would not be well-received. “We must send for aid, immediately. Sector Command must be notified.”

“And tell them what, comrade? That we have 15 billion soldats at our disposal and cannot handle a few madmen with homemade weapons? They will shoot us themselves,” retorted Marshal Mogilny. “We possess sufficient strength to push these rabble back from the cities without outside meddling.”

“We no longer command anywhere near that number” Grabovski snapped. He scanned the room, looking for support. He found little. “These “few madmen”, as you put it, have taken Oddyssa, Cebastopol, Kirch, Oradour and Oryel. They have de facto control of two planet-side star-ports and must be assumed to be in control of the moons. How do you explain that, Aleksandr Gennadevich?”

“A failure of leadership,” came the interjection from the telescreen. “One which is in the process of being corrected. We do possess the necessary strenth to win this war ourselves. However, the situation is potentially serious and the consequences far-reaching and Sector Command should be notified. Grabovski, draft the communique. It will be a situation-report. Invite such response as they deem necessary. Understood? The rest of you, reinforce Volgograd immediately. Not one step back!” With that, the telescreen blanked out and the meeting was over.

Help I'm Alive – Part II.

Ryadovoy Nikolay Vladimirovich Kulemin poked his head above the barricade and was rewarded with a hail of stubber fire. He quickly ducked, swore under his breath and reassessed the situation. For three days now the Lubyanka had been racked by violence; inmates had the run of the facility and celebrated by slaughtering their keepers wholesale, stripping the corpses naked and piling them on top of one another in crude and obscene displays. Cries for off-world help went unanswered. Kulemin and other survivors from his complex had been driven deeper and deeper into the prison until finally they were encircled and there was nowhere to retreat to.

He peeked over the barricade again. They were definitely about to launch another attack. Kulemin didn't know if the survivors had the strength or supplies to repel this one. After three days of this swirling hell, he knew only one thing; they had been betrayed. Escaping the Lubyanka's prisons was impossible without help on 'the inside', so to speak. Implants designed to incapacitate inmates had failed to deploy. Gates to the armouries had stood open. He had no idea who, or why, but he fervently hoped that whoever it was found themselves on the bottom of one the inmates' piles.

One more look; see if he couldn't figure out where they were coming from this time. The inmates had little in the way of discipline or tactical nous and had a habit of launching disjointed, uncoordinated charges but they had numbers on their side. At this point, such an advantage was nigh-insurmountable, but numbers could be made to work against a foe also. He whispered 'the Emperor protects' and raised his head. The stubber rang out once more.

Kulemin fell back, a smoking hole in his forehead.

Cruelty and the Beast - Part III.

He stood up from behind the desk, brushing an imaginary speck of dust from his shoulder. He crossed the room, muttering under his breath as he did so. As he reached the far wall, a hidden door swung open without a sound and he stepped through into a small, featureless, black room, dimly lit by black candles. Mist rolled lazily about the floor. The door swung closed behind him and he swept his arms wide, expectantly.

From the shadows three figures approached and began to disrobe him, revealing pallid flesh covered in tattoos. An insectoid creature, all pincers, spikes and jet-black carapace, crawled over his foot. He paid it no mind. One of the figures melted back into the darkness and returned, bearing a gilt bowl. The figures began to slowly and liberally apply scented oil to his corpulent body. Naked and glistening from head to toe he looked to the nearest figure.

“Begin the purge.”

The figure nodded, produced a long, flowing purple robe and placed it upon him. Anointed and prepared, he crossed the antechamber and into a far larger, though no less black, room. Scores, perhaps hundreds of black candles stood on racks and stands; on ledges and in alcoves. In the centre lay a great depression, a dark, oily liquid roiling within. Around its edge stood six of Kotlin's residents; bound, naked and bleeding. He nodded curtly, almost to himself, pleased that his toys had been properly prepared. Good help was so hard to find.

Scarcely glancing at the writhing unfortunates chained to the rack above him, he crossed the room and descended into the pool of blood, regretting that he would never get the opportunity to thank Grabovski for his usefulness. Yes, it was very important that a communique be sent to Sector Command. It was, in fact, vital that several communiques of increasing desperation be sent to Sector Command and be completely ignored.

And they would be ignored, because the only person reading the communiques to Sector Command would be him.

 theCrowe wrote:
Excellent job on your world building. Really enjoyed all you've put into this!

Voyna Narodnaya II: Frontoviki
Red Dawn - Part I.

He had long since lost track of the days, but based on how things were going he guessed it was Chetverg. He never had got the hang of Chetverg. The rebels had spent the night launching charge after charge and the sun rose weakly over the piles of corpses, rubble and slag that used to be the Akyar District of Cebastopol. He had attended a performance of Boris Godunov - an opera based on an ancient fairy-tale from Terra - in a theatre a mere stones-throw from his current position in happier times.

The remnants of 42nd Army had been thrown into the defence of Cebastopol in the first days of the conflict and despite having been pushed back to the Dnepr River, retained most of their heavy weapons and armour. They had held this pocket against repeated enemy assaults for over two weeks. He did not think they would hold much longer. The Earthshakers fell silent four days ago; the Leman Russes two days ago. One by one, the Heavy Bolter nests had run dry. He only had three power packs left for his lasgun.

A piercing scream from behind him rent the early-morning. He bristled. Nothing on the vox-channel. It could only mean one thing, the rebels had infiltrated the pocket somehow. Still nothing on the vox. He looked back, didn't see anything. He looked forward and saw the rebels were coming again. Firing furiously, he scarcely noticed the change in the air, didn't smell the ozone, didn't hear the static-crackle and didn't see the hellish, horned visions in red that manifested mere yards behind him.

As the Bloodletters fell upon the soldats, the pocket collapsed. Assailed from within and without, 42nd Army was slaughtered to a man.

A Heartfelt Line or Two – Part II.

Wait for me, and I'll come back.
Wait with all you've got.
Wait, when dreary yellow rains
Tell you, you should not.
Wait when snow is falling fast,
Wait when summer's hot,
Wait when yesterdays are past,
Others are forgot.
Wait, when from that far-off place,
Letters don't arrive.
Wait, when those with whom you wait
Doubt if I'm alive.

Wait for me, and I'll come back.
Wait in patience yet
When they tell you off by heart
That you should forget.
Even when my dearest ones
Say that I am lost,
Even when my friends give up,
Sit and count the cost,
Drink a glass of bitter wine
To the fallen friend -
Wait! And do not drink with them.
Wait until the end.

Wait for me and I'll come back,
Dodging every fate.
"What a bit of luck!" they'll say,
Those that would not wait.
They will never understand
How amidst the strife,
By your waiting for me, dear,
You had saved my life.
Only you and I will know
How you got me through.
Simply - you knew how to wait -
No one else but you.

- Excerpted from letter written by Konstantin Mikhailovich Simonov to Valentina Vasilyevna Serova

Fratres - Part III.

Kommissar Agniya Borisovna Dmitrovskaya charged through the streets of Volgograd, twenty soldats in her wake. Bullets whistled past her face, the rebels unleashing a torrent of fire at the soldats. Mishka took a slug to the throat and went down. Nineteen. A rebel jumped up from behind a pile of rubble and she shot him back down, bolt pistol roaring. Another came at her and was decapitated by a sweep of her chainsword.

She hurled herself into the rebel's position, hacking and slashing. Three rebels fell to the fury of her charge. The soldats followed, Vanya and Dima falling to rebel fire. Seventeen. She slashed a rebel, his guts spilling onto the floor in front of him. His colleague turned to flee and she shot him in the back of the head. Alya was run through with a bayonet and fell. Sixteen. She shot another two rebels, five more fell to lasguns and the rest turned, fled and were cut down.

She scanned for their next target, saw it and hoisted her chainsword high. “Forward, you dogs” she yelled, but there was no corresponding call. She stopped and turned back. Her soldats were stood, slack-jawed, staring at a Chimera some forty or fifty yards further down the line. The hatch was open and three soldats had emerged; skin purple, hair silver and wild, expressions twisted. She watched as they slowly advanced on the rebel line, her squad transfixed. Abruptly, the soldats began to sing. Lightning arced from them into the rebel position, leaving nought but charred and smoking corpses.

Petya put his lasgun under his chin and shot himself. Fifteen. Kolya broke, turned and ran. She shot him in the back. Fourteen. Masha stumbled backwards. She shot him through his left eye. Thirteen.

Picking up Masha's vox-caster, she eyed the others.

“Forward, you dogs”.

Voyna Narodnaya II: Darkplace
The Story of N - Part I.

They had met at the Kotlin Akademiya in the early days of 796M41, when the snows still lay thick over Kronstaat IV. He called her Nastya. She called him Ivanushka. He had been born and raised in Kotlin and sent to the finest schools, groomed for success. She had run away from her family at fourteen and had clawed her way up through life, fighting every step of the way.

She was the most beautiful person in the Akademiya and possessed a fierce intellect. He had asked her out for a recaf and she had, to his amazement, agreed. While they were out, he got locked in a toilet cubicle and had to be rescued by a worker. She thought this was hilarious. He thought he had blown it. They went out again and walked the streets of Kotlin through the evening snowfall. That night, she stayed in his quarters. Within weeks, they shared quarters.

She had recognised something in him, something he didn't know even about himself. For all his education and instruction, he was inexperienced in the real world and prone to naivety. Slowly, patiently, she explained. He was reluctant, protesting loudly. She persevered. Slowly he changed his mind. Eventually, he realised that she had given him the greatest gift anyone ever gave to him in his life.

She had given him the Gift of Submission.

And the Band Played Waltzing Matilda - Part II.

753.828M41 – The quacks reckon I should keep a journal. They say it's good to get it all out. That writing things down will make looking at the place where my legs used to be tolerable somehow. Sounds like BS to me. I've got nothing to do but lie here and [Expletive Deleted] into a pan, though, so [Expletive Deleted] it.

The Vistula Offensive was, in the minds of the generals sat 50km behind the lines on their fat arses, a devastating attack that would scatter the rebels and clear the path to Cebastopol. In reality it was a hellish exercise in futility. We crossed the Kirch Strait in good weather and landed amid heavy fire at Anzac Cove. Nobody told us the rebels had captured the Garrison and Defence Batteries. Struggling up the beach, we were butchered like lambs at the slaughter. The rebels were well prepared; They rained us with bullets and showered us with shells. They nearly blew us back home to Moskva. We pressed and pressed, 'til our blood stained the sand and the water but it took us four days to make it off the beach. It took us another four to move into Kirch, creeping forwards under constant barrage. We never made it more than three kilometres from the shore. For ten weary weeks I kept myself alive while the corpses around me piled higher. In a mad world of blood, death and fire, we buried our slain and the rebels buried theirs, then we started all over again.

KomBat Mekhlis lost his nerve and tried to get invalided out by faking a breakdown, the bastard. It didn't work, no-one would notice another madman in Kirch. So we had to fight under a Komandir who tried to desert us. That went down well with the soldats. Then the rebels launched a big offensive in our sector. Mekhlis [Expletive Deleted] himself. Literally. He started screaming and shouting nonsense, so... eh, [Expletive Deleted] it. We shot him. I know you bastards are going to read this. Court-martial me if you want. You can't take away anything I haven't already lost.

We were doing well until the artillery trained in on our trench and a big rebel shell knocked me arse over head. Eventually, we held. Apparently. I was out cold, slowly bleeding out under a foot of rubble. It didn't matter. Within days, we had been pushed back onto the beach. Markov, in the bed next to me, tells me the sand turned red again before we were evacuated. They collected the crippled, the wounded, the maimed and they sent us all back home to Moskva. The armless, the legless, the blind and the insane; those proud wounded 'heroes' of Kirch. I woke up in Hospital No. Six.

I never knew there were worse things than dying.

- Excerpted from the diary of Ryadovoy Yegor Alexeyevich Korshkov, executed for Insubordination 766.828M41

Goodbye, Moonmen - Part III.

Marshal Aleksandr Gennadevich Mogilny sat stiffly. He had been sat in this room for over an hour. The telescreen in front of him came alive suddenly, shocking him. As it was intended to do. Mogilny addressed the screen.

“Ivan Vissarionovich, all proceeds according to plan. The rebels have complete control in Krim and Kirov. All local Defence Force deployments have been eliminated. Lubyanka has fallen. Local Defence Force has been eliminated. Total Defence Force and civilian casualties so far are estimated to exceed your target by some one to one-and-a-half billion. In addition, probes indicate Defence Force Garrisons on K1, K2, K3 and K6 have been eliminated. I cannot account for this.”

The figure on the telescreen nodded. “Our ally has taken care of it. As She said She would.”

“Yes, Ivan Vissarionovich”, Mogilny replied, without any real clue as to what that meant. It was not wise to ask questions at the best of times, these days it was unwise to do anything but smile and nod. Everyone knew what the Konev was used for. Still, he was a senior STAFFKA Marshal. An ally was obviously relevant information. “Who is our ally, Ivan Vissarionovich?”

The figure smiled patronisingly. “Oh my dear, sweet Aleksandr. You always were slow.”

The telescreen blinked off.

Voyna Narodnaya II: Zvezda
Pavlov's House - Part I.

Point 11 had been known, in happier times, as 39 Ulitsa Sovetskaya; an unassuming apartment building situated at a crossroads on the outskirts of Volgograd. The area had seen heavy fighting in the early days of the war and the rebels had made swift advances. As the rest of the Worker's Defence Force fell back across the Volga River in disarray, thirty soldats under Serzhant Yakov Fedotovich Pavlov found themselves surrounded and took cover in 39 Ulitsa Sovetskaya.

Armed only with a lasgun and two grenades each, plus a single Heavy Bolter team, Pavlov's squad fought off the immediate rebel onslaught, established a comms-net and called for artillery support. Basilisks on the far-bank of the Volga roared into life and smashed the local rebel forces, tossing their corpses into the air with every barrage. Lacking artillery support of their own, the rebels withdrew.

Pavlov was ordered to fortify and hold the position. Valkyries dropped supplies, weapons and ammunition and Pavlov wasted no time laying four-deep lines of barbed wire, mining every approach to the building and placing heavy weapon teams on the roof; creating a killing-field that stretched over a kilometre to the north, south, east and west. Time and again the rebels threw themselves at Pavlov. Time and again Pavlov and the artillery proved their match; the soldats forced into bloody hand-to-hand combats armed only with entrenching tools by the ferocity of the rebel's daily assaults.

On the 61st day, the 14th Army crossed the Volga in force and relieved Point 11. Pavlov and fourteen weary soldats crawled out of the basement and immediately joined a charge that eventually set the stage for a front-wide offensive that pushed the rebels almost back to Kotlin and swung the situation in Volga Oblast decisively in favour of the Defence Force.

Serzhant Yakov Fedotovich Pavlov was posthumously awarded the rank Hero of Kronstaat IV.

Order No. 270 - Part II.

+++KOTLIN – 830.828M.41
+++MOST URGENT
+++WITH IMMEDIATE EFFECT

This Order is to be read in all companies, squadrons, batteries, teams and staffs. There is no response from Sector Command. Portions of the Defence Force have conducted themselves disgracefully. Krim is lost. Kirov is lost. Moskva is encircled. We have been abandoned from afar and betrayed at home. Our situation lies on a knife-edge. Accordingly, I have arranged the support of a company of Adeptus Astartes myself. They are expected in-system imminently.

Therefore, I Order:

- That our allies are to be accorded every respect;
- That any soldat who during combat tear off their insignia and desert to the rear or surrender to the enemy, be considered malicious deserters whose families are subject to arrest as a family, for violation of an oath and betrayal of their homeland;
- All Komandirs and Kommissars are required to shoot on the spot any such deserters from among command personnel;
- Encircled units and formations are to selflessly fight to the last, to protect materiel like the apple of their eye, to break through from the rear of enemy troops, defeating the rebel dogs.
- That every soldat is obliged, regardless of his or her position, to demand that their superiors, if part of their unit is surrounded, to fight to the end, to break through, and if a superior or a unit of the Defence Force – instead of organizing resistance to the enemy – prefers to become a prisoner they should be destroyed by all means possible on land and air, and their families deprived of public benefits and assistance.
- KomDivs and Kommissars are obliged to immediately shift from their posts KomBats and KomPols, who hide in crevices during battle and those who fear directing a fight on the battlefield; to reduce their positions, as impostors, to be demoted to the ranks, and when necessary to shoot them on the spot, bringing to their place bold and courageous people, from among junior command personnel or those among the ranks of the Defence Force who have excelled.

Supreme Leader, Headquarters of the Supreme Command, Kronstaat IV Worker's Defence Force, Chairman of the STAFFKA

Deputy Chairman of the STAFFKA - V. MOLOTOV
Marshal - S. BUDYONNY
Marshal - S. TIMOSHENKO
Marshal - B. SHAPOSHNIKOV
Marshal - A. MOGILNY
General of the Defence Force – G. ZHUKOV

Look On Down From The Bridge - Part III.

Rori Brae'qerr peered into the scry.

“It is almost time, my Lord. Preparations are almost complete.”

The figure on the throne gave no response. He was well aware it was almost time. He could hear Her calling to him; could feel Her clawing insistently at the walls of reality. He looked down at the dusty grey ball on the readout. excited at the torments they were about to unleash upon it. He would set Her free once more and claim another world alongside Her.

High above Rzhev, a new star shined.

North Bank of the Volga, Volgograd, liberated 816.828M41. Pict-capture by Daniel Kvasznicza

Chapel of the Cherubim, North Bank of the Volga, Volgograd, liberated 816.828M41. Pict-capture by Daniel Kvasznicza

Voyna Narodnaya II: Downfall
The Glorious 9th - Part I.

Terran-born, Vigo Rostur was once one of only two hundred warriors addressed by a glittering Demi-God; a Demi-God that he would have followed unquestioningly into the heart of a sun and a Demi-God that he willingly and enthusiastically followed in His worship of Slaanesh.

Driven from Skalathrax with the remnants of 9th Co. by the fury and the flames of the World Eaters' inglorious self-immolation, by the time of his arrival in the Eye of Terror aboard the Battle Barge Heart of Fadeless Splendour he had risen to the rank of Captain of the Third. As Captain, Vigo oversaw a number of exceedingly bloody assaults on planets claimed by World Eater Warbands, exacting bloody revenge for the events on Skalathrax. It was on just such a planet, Krovaya-Luna, that he claimed Midori's Whip, an unwieldy, though brutal, power weapon capable of cutting a Power-Armoured Astartes clean in half. Answering only to what now constituted High Command; the newly-appointed Lord Commander Korles Moku'satsu, Epistolary Tarl Savaross and Chaplain Flavius Eladire, and his own increasing desire for extreme sensory input, Vigo and the Third massacred their way through the World Eaters' perimeter strongholds, committing atrocity upon atrocity, piling and posing the dead in obscene offerings to She Who Thirsts and performing blasphemous rituals over them.

These blood-soaked rituals attracted the languid gaze of a powerful entity, an alluring voice guiding and directing Moku'satsu, Savaross and Eladire; whispering in the minds of the 9th's Librarians, teaching the arcane secrets of Daemonology. It was during the final assault on Krovaya-Luna's main fortress that She emerged amid a sea of Daemonettes and tore through the ferrocrete walls with impunity, laying the fortress bare for attack for the 9th. Frenzied by Her presence, the Emperor's Children and their Daemonic allies fell upon those trapped inside the fortress in an orgy of depravity.

The 9th Co. ceased to exist within those walls. With the swearing of powerful pacts and the ascension of Moku'satsu, Savaross and Eladire to Daemonhood, the Children of The Violet Heart were born. Under a reorganisation dictated by Moku'satsu, the former warriors of the 9th were split into six 'Circles'; largely autonomous warbands of roughly post-Codex Astartes company strength, each fleet-based. Zathor Sots'vor, formerly Captain of the Second, took control of First Circle. Vigo was given the nickname "The Insane" and promoted to Lord of Second Circle and Commander of the Heart of Fadeless Splendour, ranks he still holds today.

In recognition for their actions on Krovaya-Luna, Zathor and Vigo were gifted the True Name of a Daemon, each gaining dominion over a Herald of The Violet Heart. Vigo named his new companion The Silent Singer owing to her twisted facial expressions. Collared and leashed at all times, The Silent Singer has become an invaluable asset in battle - supplementing the slow strike of Midori's Whip with lightning fast claws easily capable of shredding Power Armour - as well as an amusing plaything.

Komarov Goes Forth - Part II.

A second signal chimed and over he went, into darkness.

Only, it wasn't darkness. It was a vast wall of mud, rubble and metal thrown up by the rebel's artillery, seemingly impenetrable yet gone in seconds. Lasgun raised, he charged into the streets of Primorye Sector, his squad beside him, Kommissar Fetisov behind him. Flamers roared, flushing the rebels out into the open to be cut down by the massed fire of the charging Defence Force. Serzhant Nikulina threw a grenade into a ruined Administratum and followed it in, firing madly. Tsoi followed yelling into his vox-caster, Komarov behind him.

The building was unrecognisable; the second and third floors were simply gone, while a large stone circle occupied the entire ground floor, an eerie pink glow emanating from it. Six purple-clad Astartes stood around it, chanting in a language Komarov did not understand. A flash of electric-pink light blinded him and then, before him stood a forty-foot clawed monstrosity draped in chains.

Nikulina ran. Tsoi ran. Fetisov began to yell, then ran.

Komarov followed him.

The Nightman Cometh – Part III.

Roree Brae'qerr died on Krovaya-Luna. Previously selected for service in the III Legion's Librarium, he had been assigned to the 9th Co. tactical squads and had served with distinction as flamer-bearer after the dictates of Nikea, spitting holy fire at the enemies of his Emperor and Primarch. During compliance actions against the Laer, with his Legion rapidly falling into darkness, Roree was elevated to the rank of Sergeant over the objections of those few who suspected the source of his tactical nous was witchery rather than study.

After the events of Istvaan III, with those whispering naysayers silenced, Roree cast off the shackles of Imperial mandates and dogma - as did all surviving 'Librarians' of the III - and took to employing his psychic talents openly in battle to devastating, fiery effect. With his trusty flamer by his side and his squad at his back, he blazed a trail of victory across the sky for his Primarch.

Coming into Vigo's orbit while prosecuting landing actions on Krovaya-Luna, during the final assault on the main fortress Roree was tasked in capturing a lightly guarded point of small strategic value, on a certain river. Intelligence had been incorrect, however, and the point was occupied by considerably more troops than was thought. Roree and his squad had been ambushed by the heathen barbarians of the World Eaters and were felled, ignobly and inelegantly.

As he lay dying, his blood soaking the fetid ground, feeling the Immaterium yawn before him, a disincarnate voice from the abyss rasped and a presence entered Roree, filling his dying tissues with unholy vigour; reknitting, renewing, remaking.

"Eyo vlast velika."

The figure that rose from that blood-soaked crater and took vengeance was not Roree Brae'qerr, though it wore his armour and bore his weapons. Striding in flames through the barbarian horde, The Nightman had come.

Voyna Narodnaya II: And All That Could Have Been
The Partisan War – Part I.

Ryadovoy Roza Georgiyevna Shanina let out a long, low breath and shifted slightly; keeping the crosshairs centre-mass on the rebel who looked to be in charge. She had been watching this position for six or seven hours, a light snow falling all around the pile of rubble she was camped behind. She counted fifty or sixty rebels so far, holding a Basilicanum smashed mostly to ruins by the Defence Force Basilisks in better times. Back then, she could have easily picked-off ten or twelve of them without the slightest risk; now she'd be lucky to get off more than a doublet without having to retreat.

The rebels were much more organised than they had been at the beginning; and it only got worse after the failure of Vistula. They were establishing a leadership; developing tactics. They had artillery of their own. Conversely, the Defence Force now facing them was a shambles. Many millions of soldats had been stranded or cut-off by the rebel's swift capture of Krim Oblast and the pull-out of Kirch after Vistula. Their leadership had been decimated; their long-range comms cut. They had little ammunition, few heavy weapons and almost no armour.

Then the Daemons came.

She shuddered and dismissed the thought. Daydreaming got you killed these days in Kirch. She shifted again, carefully, following the rebel as he paced back and forth. They appeared to be using the ruins as an ammo dump, crates and barrels were stacked liberally everywhere. Nothing that she could immediately identify as explosive or flammable; nothing she could use to her advantage. The snow was getting heavier. Add winter to the list of problems to deal with. Another long, low breath and she decided to withdraw. The information about the dump was more valuable than a pot-shot at an insignificant pawn was.

A giant in blood-red armour emerged from behind a stack of crates. This was new. The rebels reacted with surprise and alarm. She watched through her crosshairs as the giant stalked across the building and beheaded the rebel she had reckoned to be in charge with the enormous chain-axe it wielded. It swung the chain-axe again and four more rebel heads fell to the floor. She rejoiced, the Astartes had come to save them! She took a handful of snow, put it in her mouth and exhaled, squeezing the trigger twice quickly. Two rebels fell. Already shocked and confused by the assault of the hulking Astartes, the rebels went to pieces and fled into the recesses of the ruins. She took down another two as they went. The giant stood alone, and made no further move. She watched, unable to make out what was happening. It bent-down and picked up one of the rebel's heads. It turned and looked straight at her, then flung the rebel head at her.

Shanina withdrew, hastily.

Varchavianka - Part II.

На бой кровавый,
Святой и правый.
Марш, марш вперед,
Рабочий народ.

- Excerpt from K4WDF Battle-Hymn, Nonsanctioned.

Love's Cradle - Part III.

They had been sharing quarters for a little over a year when things began to go wrong, though of course he didn't recognize it at first. He was Far Too Busy with graduating from the Akademiya. Far Too Busy working long hours at his Important New Job. She graduated, a few months after he had, and it barely registered. He was Far Too Busy toadying with his superiors after-hours to notice her withdrawal; to notice that she was unhappy. She took a prestigious position in the Defence Force; he scarcely mentioned it. He was Far Too Busy to notice that he was taking her for granted and she knew it.

So obviously it came as a great shock to him when he returned to quarters one night and the only trace of Nastya was a curt note telling him not to contact her, though it really shouldn't have. He did all the usual things. He cried. He drank. He smashed a bit of furniture. He alternatively cursed her and resolved to get her back. He deleted all the photos he had of her and immediately regretted it. He dreamed of her, naked and bathed in light; the only recurring dream he ever had other than that one where his father turned into a simian dressed like a Defence Force undertaker.

Obviously, he ignored the only request she made and tried to contact her. He received no response and grew depressed, so he threw himself into his work to evade his personal life. He spent ever more time toadying with his superiors. He heard in passing that Nastya had been posted to Cebastopol. He cried some more. He drank more. He worked more. He smashed some more furniture. He did everything, in short, that had driven her away in the first place, still utterly convinced that he would get her back one day.

He never heard from her again.