Knights of All Shapes and Sizes!

I'm taking an Imperial Knight with me Boltgun Battles 7, a local tournament this weekend in Newark, Ohio. My army list consists of Grey Knights as a primary detachment. The Grey Knights aren't particularly known for working well with others, especially mortals. To explain to my opponents why these two forces are working as Battle Brothers on the field I've written this short story.

The Nemesis

by Matt Warren

“By the Emperor I’ll make it fit,” grunted the very large man. The Tech-Adept, already alarmed by the current state of affairs and his liege lord’s reaction tried to pull the large man away from the machine both gingerly and frantically. “My lord, we have not yet made the proper modifications to the device! You could not hope to fit inside in your power armor let alone manipulate the control console!”

Hearing the Tech-Adepts remarks, the very large man desisted in his fruitless attempt to enter the control chamber and stood upright. Just over two meters tall, the man was very large indeed. Like all of the other Astartes of his fighting order, The Grey Knights, he was gene-forged by the founder of the Imperium of Man and Master of Mankind, the God-Emperor, to grow to a massive height and attain an extremely robust skeleton and musculature. The added bulk of his servo-powered armor contributed further to his mass, thus compounding the predicament into which he could not fit: the vehicle was not built for a post-human of his size.

“Adept Seichs, explain to me how I am to wield this Dreadknight armor if I am unable to enter it.”

The Tech Adept trembled beneath the gaze of the Astartes. Seichs had been kissing up to the Tech-Marines. He had virtually, and at times even audibly, insisted that he was ready for more responsibility within the Chapter. When they had told him he would bear the honor of presenting the newly arrived Dreadknight Armor to Brother Tulius he had been overjoyed. But when he revised the transit manifest and saw the actual armor it became clear that this was no honor bestowed to him. Mars had made a mistake. The problem that presented for him was that Mars never made mistakes and it would be his duty to make sure that Brother Tulius remained enlightened to that fact.

The ‘mistake’ lay in its docking throne behind the Grey Knight. Even seated the monstrous machine was imperious and majestic. With it’s massive thermal cannon separated into its still very large base components and the teeth of its chainblade not yet installed it represented a very real promise of destruction to come. It ached Adept Seichs at how he would have to dismantle the control chamber and reshape it to allow an Astartes comfortable entry. Oh and teaching the Grey Knight to use the Knight’s control system, Omnissiah forbid he have to actually desecrate any part of the haptic connections…

If only he could have simply contacted any of the Lords of Mars and politely, diminutively beseeched them to review the transit manifests from Mars to Deimos, maybe they would simply see the mistake-- no, not a mistake, the servants of the Omnissiah never made mistakes-- and correct it. He feared that even should they miraculously come to that conclusion, Seichs would find himself forever blacklisted by the Lords of that sacred and venerable order. And should that ire follow him here to the Grey Knight’s holy forge…

“My lord, please forgive me. Of course I should have explained the process to you in totality to begin with! I’ve brought you here so that you can lay eyes on the blessed armor that will carry you into battle. What must naturally follow is that I take the measurement of your mighty, powerful, and resplendent form and make the proper modifications to your new armor that you might comfortably rest within it while slaying the Emperor’s foes! You would not permit me to equip you in your Tactical Dreadnought Armor without first adjusting it to the exact caliber of your gene-perfected musculature, would you my Lord?”

Brother Tulius had served as a Paladin for several centuries now. It was not unusual to him that the Chapter’s serfs would pay him the homage he deserved by frequently describing his better attributes. He stood stoically over the Tech-Adept, much to Seichs discomfort, while considering the small man’s words.

“You are wiser than I thought, Adept Seichs.”

There was no room in any atrium for blood, such was the relief that flooded into Seichs’ heart. This is going to work!

“I shall allow you to fit me into my Terminator armor before you take the measurements, as you have suggested.”

The smile on Seichs’ face barely survived the palpitations he was experiencing.

“But be quick with it Adept. We deploy for the New’Hark sector in two weeks’ time. I will need the Dreadknight battle ready so that I may use it in the practice cages before then.”

There was an audible crack as one of Seichs’ teeth broke between his clenched jaw. Maybe before they executed him for Tech-Heresy they would approve his request for a vocabulator implant to do away with the injury. “It will be as you command, my lord.”

As he began to follow Brother Tulius to the arming chambers he couldn’t help but wonder… If they sent the Imperial Knight here… who has the Nemesis Dreadknight Armor?

The battle had been decisive and gruesome. Most of House Graye’s warriors hadn’t even the time to dismount from their docking thrones, and without the support of their masters the great house’s loyal footmen-- already caught offguard by the brutal and cunning surprise offensive-- were slaughtered to a man. Now the greenskins circled the crimson spoils of their victory like vultures.

The Warboss, one Griznicks Bigpuncha, shoved his mekboy over to something he had never seen before. Without the talents of a psyker, House Graye had been completely unable to rouse one of their armors. “EH,” he snarled to his minion. “Whad in da name o’ Gork n’ Mork iz all dis!?”

The mekboy did his best to diligently inspect the construct, but when it didn’t respond to any of the rocks he threw at it, he became quickly vexed. “I dunno boss!” The stubby, half bionic greenskin began wringing his clawed mits together. “But we’s gunna make it orky!”