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  1. +++++ FAO: All field officers +++++ ++++ For immediate distribution +++ ++++++ Effective immediately ++++++ Comrades, it has come to the munitorum's attention that there are large stockpiles of war material collected across His domain. These resources rightfully belong on the battlefield, turned against His foes not gathering dust and tended by administratum menials. All commanders are to complete a report of outstanding materials and submit it to the commissariat for review without delay. WarriorFish Regimental Commissar Thought for the day: Only in death does duty end
  2. Brothers and Sisters of the Spire, Greetings long long time lurker. Having been a Member for quite awhile I wanted to start Primaris Marines and thus have purchased 2 boxes of Dark Imperium. My Wife being the kind individual that she is painted these models up for me and allowed me to present them to you today. Hopefully I can provide more next week.
  3. A thread meant for my meandering interests in the Heresy, whether it be posting models, fluff or whatever strikes me. to start the ball rolling... Raven Guard Part 1, Moralltach 1 “…so cousins of the XIX, it’s with deep regret that the Warmaster calls you home. The Astartes Treachery is deeper than Lord Lupercal dared believe and reaches the Throneworld itself. Despite numerous pleas and envoys from Lord Lupercal, the Emperor remains silent and distant. A dictatorship of bureaucrats rule in his name, with the traitorous Custodes and the twice damned Dorn must be the cause of His silence. Many Legions have turned from the Great Crusade and spread lies about our cause. Guilliman has declared himself free of any previous oath, and even now Lords Angron and Lorgar wage war to reclaim the Five Hundred Worlds of Ultramar for Mankind’s Empire. Though our Warmaster brought the might of seven complete Legions against your sire and his fellow traitors Vulkan and Ferrus Manus, Corax cast aside his allies to escape our vengeance. The Serpent of Medusa has been slain by the illustrious Lord Fulgrim and Dragon of Nocturne was obliterated on the battle field. After leaving his Legion on the field of battle, Corax has returned to Deliverance and now uses illegal genetic research to create monsters from what’s left of his Legion. The Lion, the Khan, Russ and Sanguinius. All have turned from the ideals we fought to preserve. The Lion rages across the Thamas system, while Lord Kurze struggles to halt the massacres. The Khan has disappeared and answers nobody’s calls, but his presence at shattered Prospero is an ill sign. Poor Prospero, the center of knowledge and a beacon for all sciences. Now nothing more than dust and ash, a planet of dying dreams, killed by the mongrels of Russ. Sanguinius has disappeared as well, but our last reports had him in alliance with the Battle King of Ultramar. This is why we seek your aid. Corax showed his jealously of our Warmaster by casting in you into the darkness of the galaxy. In his pettiness, he saw your loyalty to the Great Crusade and its master as a betrayal to him. Now is the time to show your strength! Return to the realm he denied you and prove yourself free of any such disloyalty! The Warmaster once valued your strength, and in this dark time, he knows he can count on the loyal, rejected sons of a traitor to do what is needed to save the future of Mankind. For the Warmaster! For Mankind!” With a clatter the holographic image of Commander Aziekol of the Sons of Horus pounded his gauntlets, palm overlapping to the center of his torso, forming the pre-Corax salute of the Raven Guard. The image faded into the projector, leaving three figures silence and full of questions. This was the latest in a series of messages to reach them, each beseeching their return and casting somebody else as the traitor. The messages had created a stir in the far roaming Nomad-Predation fleets of the XIX. Many had already declared for the Warmaster and disappeared into the Warp or simply went further into the void, but the many messages presented conflicting information. The remnants of three Nomad-Predation fleets had come together to decide what their fates would be. The first to break the silence was Strike Captain Baen of the 17th Fleet, commander of the largest fleet present. The long years of warfare and little reinforcement left him with a single Battle Barge and several Strike Cruisers. Strike Captain Baen once commanded thousands of Legionaries, but now had less than 700 Brothers under his command. “The Warmaster had always treated us with respect, and was fairer than the convict.” The emphasis on convict left little doubt to who Baen referred to, the word positively overflowing with hatred from years of bitter rejection. “And I mean no offense by that word Brother Donal. I know you are of Deliverance, but if you cared for his commands you’d shackle your gifts. I think it is past time to return to the Ravenspire and purge those not loyal to the Great Crusade. The Warmaster has called us home.” The second figure in the room nodded his acceptance of Baen’s apology and poor word choice. Brother Donal Moralltach was gifted with the powers of the Warp and had been among his Legion’s Librarius, before a directive from Deliverance had ordered it to be dismantled and the Librarians redeployed in the Legion. Moralltach had rejected this command, and repeatedly refused to be equipped with a psychic hood. Being cast out into the void allowed this betrayal to take place, and his fellow Legionaries had seen the command as another insult from a distant, uncaring Lord. A voice box boomed across the room as the third figure as the metal form turned to look at both Baen and Moralltach. Honored Atticus had been among the first of the Raven Guard to leave Terra, and many worlds had claimed a piece of his life blood. It was only during the eradication of the xeno Eldar worldships had his body passed beyond the skills of the Apothecarium to heal. Atticus refused death however, and his dying mortal frame was placed in the Contemptor Dreadnought that now served as his life support unit and suit of war. Honored Atticus and Moralltach had fought alongside so frequently these last few decades that their separate fleets were a single fleet for all practical purposes, though honor and tradition had demanded they recorded their accomplishments separately. Together they commanded just under 117 Legionaries and three strike cruisers. “It is my opinion that if the Emperor is silent, and so many of his sons turned from their oaths, our only option is to drive to Terra itself and resolve this. The Emperor can handle any of his gene-forged children, if he is free to do so. To give the Emperor his voice would do more than killing any number of soldiers.” “Very well put, Honored Atticus, but the Warp denies us the road to Terra. The storms grow stronger, and despite our navigator’s efforts and Brother Donal’s insistence, the only stable path head to the Warmaster. It is so decided. Return to your ships and prepare for the journey home. The Raven Lord has turned from Terra’s dream, it’s time to become his nightmare.” With a curt nod to each nod to both Moralltach and Honored Atticus, Baen left to his preparations. A Thunderhawk returned Moralltach and Honored Atticus back to their command ships. The trip had been silent, as Moralltach was deep in his own counsel and Honored Atticus knew better than to try and pry answers from the withdrawn figure. With a comradely rap against his armored torso, Moralltach left the Thunderhawk to his own ship. Despite the messages received, Moralltach was very troubled by the missives from the Warmaster. Much had not been said, and the Warp seemed to wax and wane around him. The cawing of distant ravens sometimes broke through his mediations, but the fierce tides of the Warp silenced them. It was in relative silence that Moralltach brought his fleet alongside that of Honored Atticus. The larger fleet of Strike Commander Baen was still positioning itself to enter the Warp when the private comm-link broke through Moralltach’s preparations. “Now you have to listen to me little brother.” Moralltach smiled at that, for it was an old joke between Honored Atticus and himself. When Atticus was still flesh and blood they were as different as night and day, and it was by Moralltach’s counsel that Atticus escaped death so many times. It was when the bloodlust overpowered such restraint that Atticus fell to the Eldar witch’s blade, and since then the two each called the other ‘little brother’. “Baen is allowing his bitterness to color his judgement. You saw that as much as I, and we both know this strike at Deliverance is to quench his desire for vengeance than any practical purpose. Yet you stayed quiet.” The question was heavy in Atticus’s words despite it not being voiced aloud. For a long moment Moralltach was silent, but finally found the words to speak. “I agree that this strike is folly, but I disagree with heading to Terra itself. For many weeks I have been troubled by the messages we received and the evidence presented by them. I think we need to see this Istvaan with our own eyes, make our own decisions.” “Truly, you think the dead world is the correct course?” This time the question was blunt, no subtly in the voice box. “If that’s your desire, then to Istvaan we go. Let us visit Death and then decide who deserves it.” “Brother Donal, Honored Atticus. Why are your ships not placed on my exit route?” The voice of Strike Captain Baen came across the ships voxspeaker. “I’ve received further calls for aid from the XVII. They are being pounded by the so-called Battle King and have requested aid. It would be a fine gift to the Warmaster for our arrival to save his loyal soldiers.” Honored Atticus responded first “Forgive our delay, but Captain Moralltach and I have agreed to go to Istvaan itself, and see what has happened with our own eyes.” “Your own eyes?! You’re a collection of bolts and scrap holding together a dead man. I’ve allowed your constant delay long enough. Either move your fleet to my coordinates or be designated as a traitor to the Warmaster.” The words of Strike Captain Baen were matched by the actions of his fleet. The Battle Barge Death from Darkness turned to face the smaller strike cruisers, and the message couldn’t be clearer: join or die. Over the private commlink Honored Atticus called for Moralltach. “It’s as you feared, Baen has lost himself, and wants us to join him in damnation. Execute Plan Flight 5-X.” “Are you certain? Flight 5-X would mean…“ Moralltach began, but was quickly cut off by the hails of Death from Darkness. “Have you reached a decision?! Declare now, or die a traitor’s death!” The weapons of the Battle Barge trained on the smaller fleet, and Moralltach knew it wouldn’t take much effort for Strike Captain Baen to destroy the combined fleets. “For the Emperor!” came across the vox link. The fleet of Honored Atticus surged forward to engage the Battle Barge, opening fire as they raced to death. “Moralltach, better run fast as we’ll only buy you minutes. Ave Imperator, Victory or Death.” Shutting down all vox links, Honored Atticus brought his two ships to engage the Battle Barge and block Moralltach’s command ship from Baen’s fleet. “All souls, prepare for immediate entry into the Warp.” Moralltach released the ship’s vox speaker, and looked towards his bridge crew. “Let’s hurry now, death is behind us” The Strike Cruiser left the battle, quickly enacting the plans Honored Atticus insisted they form months ago. Istvaan’s coordinates were already plotted, the path prepared. With a slight lurch and shame settling in his mind, Donal Moralltach took his ship into the Wap.
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