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Greetings Brothers and Sisters, I'm about to start a Black Crusade campaign with a couple of friends and I decided to post the narrative description of the most of the campaign events. I'm quite sure this allowed by the forum rules, since it's just a narrative description of the game events and not a RPG session with other members. If something is wrong please let me know. I believe there will pass at least several days, perhaps a week before we'll be able to play out first game but in the meantime I made a brief micro-story (well it's actually a single scene ) to introduce the campaign main character. As I said in one of my previous posts my friends will not be able to play every single game in this campaign so I must take the role of the leading character. I also hope I'll be able to recruit additional players/characters as the story evolves. Anyway right now the campaign will have three characters: A Space Marine, a former captain of an still unknown chapter who was accused of treachery by an Ordo Hereticus Inquisitor forcing him to abadon his chapter, a female human rogue psyker and a male human renegade. I'll try to post brief profiles for all of them but in the meatime, as I said above, I write a micro story depicting my Astartes character in action. I intentionally left the background of the scene vague. The background story of my Space Marine will become more clear as the Black Crusade campaign evolves. In the brief scene I wrote he is fighting against a group of Fire Angles who tracked him down and are intended to kill who they consider and heretic and traitor. It takes place before my character meet the other two PCs. Let me know what do you think. ... just a note: please consider English is not my native language so forgive me if you notice some mistake. Feel free to bring them to my attention, though. Anyway here is the brief scene, I'll try to post the character profiles as soon as possible. I hope you'll like it... it's just a small and modest micro-story (a scene in about 800 characters I invented all the names you will read. If there are already similar names in the vastness of the web they are not related to me... just for the records. Kulvarg heard the sound of armoured footsteps echoing across the marble clad hall. He tried to focus his blurred vision on the surroundings and he noticed an imposing figure marching towards him. The Power Armoured warrior proudly crossed the hall and he turned his head to the decorated glass of a nearby window. Kulvarg’s vision became clearer and he saw the warrior’s face reflected on the window bore his own features. He immediately recognized the scene, for he experienced it every time he conceded his body some rare moment of rest. Sygroth, the celebrations after the battle of Sygroth. Sygroth! How he hated that name. It was the place where those he swore to protect betrayed him. Without Sygroth he would still be the honored Captain of his Chapter’s Second Company. At the hall’s farthest corner a group of persons was gathering: the surviving members of his Company, the Chapter Master and Inquisitor Rildvar, the architect of his disgrace. Kulvarg tried to alert his vision’s alter ego but no word left his mouth. He continued to watch the scene until he felt the familiar throb of his twin hearts as his conscious mind reasserted its dominance over his flooding memories. He found himself lying on the mud covered ground: the explosion sent him flying off the platform he was fighting on. It was a quite considerable jump even for an Astartes’ enhanced physiology. Kulvarg tried to stand up but when he was kneeling over the muddied soil he realized his helmet was malfunctioning. He removed it and let it fall on the ground: he would care about repairs later. The drops of water were hammering on his head. It was raining. It always rained on Kaheraav. He spat blood on a small rock and the acid in his saliva begun to corrode the granite. He felt a presence behind him, followed by the unmistakable sound of a chambering bolt round. “The Ecclesiarchy’s dogs have been quick” he thought. The Fire Angel stood behind him; his bolt pistol aimed at Kulvarg’s head. “Speak your last words, traitor, for the Justice of God Emperor will soon descend on your empty soul” There was satisfaction in the Fire Angel words; he was eager to inscribe his name among his chapter’s chronicles. “Fire Angels- Kulvarg thought- so twisted by the Ecclesiarchy’s propaganda” Kulvarg breathed deeply, his mind focusing on the surroundings as he replied “This is not the moment for your mindless sermons.” With a stunning move he rotated his body before the Fire Angel had the chance to squeeze the trigger. Kulvarg’s elbow struck violently at the Fire Angel wrist’s, sending his bolt pistol flying to a puddle few meters away. He quickly stood up plunging his power sword into the Imperial Astartes’ chest during the process. The energized blade cut through the ceramite protected body up to the Fire Angel’s hearts. Before he pulled his sword off the loyalist corpse, its power field collapsed: the continuous slaughtering of the last days exhausted the weapon’s power cell. Another thing he would take care of after he survived the madness taking place on this planet. Two others Fire Angels emerged from the debris on his side. Kulvarg grabbed the chainsword from the dead Astartes before throwing the body at the Fire Angel approaching from his left side. The impact pushed the loyalist Space Marine to the ground. Quickly turning to the Fire Angel on his right, Kulvarg activated the chainsword motor: the roaming teeth cut throughout the soft spot in the Astartes neck protection, cleaving the head from his body. The surviving Fire Angel was up, looking for his plasma pistol inside a murky puddle. Kulvarg sprinted towards his enemy. The Loyalist finally dragged his pistol from the mud but Kulvarg already closed the distance. He swiftly took the weapon from his opponent’s hands and pressed the trigger. The super-heated matter scorched his armour plate as it bored its way throughout the Fire Angel’s chest. Kulvarg left the smoking remains to fall near the corpse of the loyalist’s comrade. He recovered his unpowered sword and mag-locked it to the back of his Power Armour. He turned his eyes to the burning spires of the Hive City on the horizon but he didn’t care about the battle’s outcome: it had never been his war, after all. The victorious warrior stood in the middle of the mud covered plain, staring at the ravaged battlefield. He felt neither grief nor joy, only to the pressing desire to exact his revenge over and over again. They turned a glorious hero into a pariah and they will all pay for it. He looked down at the Fire Angels he slain and smiled. The torrential downpour washed the blood away from his armour. It was raining. It always rained on Kaheraav.