Some Rough ideas, but without many names yet

[musliisafish]

Story of the corruption of my mechanicus chapter. enjoy, and C&C is more than welcomed, invited even :D

 

976. M37

 

Whispers of an artifact of great and terrible power emanate from the Maelstrom region. A planet

controlled by the 168th grand company of the iron warriors, [name here], is rumored to hide an artifact

heralding from prior to the time of the imperium of man, something long forgotten, and perhaps even

forbidden. Perhaps there was a reason it found itself buried deep within the surface of this desolate

world, a terror pushed aside by the hands of fate themselves. And yet, greedy in desire for their own

prosperity, the forces of chaos saw fit to try and uncover this secret. An action that could not go

unanswered by the imperium.

Successors of the Iron Hands, given their independence during the second founding, the [name here] led

by [name here] were a harsh, unforgiving force, an unrelenting wall of armour that would crush entire

armies beneath its tracks, almost before opening fire. An terror to behold, the [name here] along with

their adeptus mechanicus support force made their way to [name here], their intent to rid the world of

the 168th grand company, and secure the artifact, whatever it may be, for study by the servants of mars,

before any possible implementation.

 

For ten long years the battle raged between the 168th grand company and the [chapter name]. Both

sides suffered grievous losses, though in the end it was the 168th grand company who were all but

annihilated. Upon the steps of the ruinous chapel concealing the entrance to the mines wherein the

ancient artifact had all but been found, the 168th grand company of the iron warriors, fronted by

warsmith varthrok, made their final, doomed stand. Beset upon all sides by the forces of the [chapter

name], bombarded by titans, torn to pieces by dreadnaughts and crushed under the tracks of tanks, the

168th grand company fought valiantly, standing their ground regardless of their imminent deaths. It was

a moment that the index astartes could have been proud of, and perhaps in their death against

impossible odds, even they, in that moment, could have been redeemed in the eyes of the emperor.

Ironically, it would be the last righteous act of the [chapter name].

 

The battle seemed won, and [MoTF name] and his most elite comrades ascended the steps of the great

chapel to execute the last standing iron warriors, when in a moment of uncanny quiet, disaster struck.

The ground beneath the soldiers trembled and groaned, and behind them, a great chasm opened

beneath them, hundreds of soldiers and vehicles of war falling to the very depths of the planet they

stood upon. Dust slowly began to settle, and an awful sight became clear; the cathedral stood on its

own, isolated from the rest of the land by a kilometer wide fissure of fathomless depth, the lone ten

marines left to fend for themselves upon the newly created island. The 168th grand company may have

been doomed, but they planned upon taking as many with them as they could.

 

Upon the very doorstep of the great cathedral, the final combat took place on foot. [MoTF name] and

the nine surviving techmarines who stood with him fought the last thirty iron warriors alone, and in a

final bloody battle, fought their damned enemies hand to hand. Armour and flesh was rent and torn,

and after an hour long blood bath, only two men remained standing; [MoTF] and Varthrok. Their battle

lasted long, and yet, neither could gain an upper hand. Servo arms grappled, axes clashed, and when the

opportunity arose, hand mounted combi-weapons send bullets and waves of heat towards the enemy.

In one such moment, the demise of [MoTF] became apparent. Their attacks driving each other away

momentarily, varthrok chose his time to strike the final blow. [MoTF]’s helmet previously destroyed, his

head was exposed to the ensuing melta shot, and in an instant, his head was transformed from flesh to

ash.

 

Exhausted, varthrok stood upright and walked to the altar of the cathedral he had ordered the creation

of in service to the dark gods. This was it. Escape was impossible and death imminent. Soon enough the

forces from the main land would fly over here and execute him, perhaps slowly for his success in killing

their leader. Hiding in the mines was useless; like it or not he was outnumbered. No, this was the time.

In a final act of perfect self control, varthrok accepted what each servant to the dark gods strived to

escape; death. Kneeling at the altar of chaos, the warsmith used his own servo arm to tear his head from

his shoulders. To this day his body remains in that position, an eternal reminder to the [chapter name]

of the man who uncovered the secret that set them free.

 

Hours later, the forces of [chapter name] arrived on the doorstep of the cathedral, and found thirty-

eight bodies on its ground. All members of their force accounted for, save [MoTF], his servants now

feverishly praying to the emperor of man, and to the machine god himself for his survival. Slowly,

anticipating another trap, the marines entered the threshold of the cathedral, and in the red light of the

planets dying sun saw the silhouette of their leader. Joy rising in their hearts they began to race towards

him, and yet, as they approached, the grizzly truth unfolded; before them stood the armour of [MoTF],

adorned now in black robes, and yet, nowhere was his head to be seen. Instead, from the depths of his

hood, emerged twin power cables, connected to a servo-skull now mounted on the chest of his artificer

armour. Slowly, mechanically it stepped forward, and the marines before him began to hear a grainy

transmission from an unknown source; “Bow to me, bow to them, to the God’s of chaos, and you too

may be gifted what I have. I have seen the artifact, I have seen what lies beyond. From this day forth, we

serve the dark ones, in addition to the ominissiah. From this day forth, we denounce the name of the

Emperor, for I am greater than he, I have traversed death, and come out standing, not confined to a

chair to be interpreted at the whims of the corrupt high lords of terror. From this day forth we are chaos,

and chaos is strong!”. The marines stood on the spot stunned. And yet, as the silence became crushing,

and it seemed that [MoTF]’s death was once more approaching, the most senior tech marine left alive

went to the floor on one knee. Slowly, the entire army dropped to their knees, pledging their service to

a new cause, to new Gods. As one, they declared “To the dark gods of chaos, and to the god of all

machines, we pledge our souls!”

 

Many questions still lie unanswered. Does [MoTF] still live, or has his body been hijacked, possessed,

and by what? Or is it true, he was resurrected, and in either case, what did he discover in the depths of

that mine? Rarely now does he transmit, and when he does, he speaks in riddles, parables, code, of

prophecies, though altogether unintelligible and incoherent, except in the direst of situations. It

nowadays simply up to the commanding officers to interpret his will, and they have become quite good

at it, as those who fail consistently meet a slow and painful end at [MoTF]’s own hands.

[musliisafish]

very sorry about the double post, was having internet issues. If a moderator could remove one of these (most likely this one) I would much appreciate it. Thank you