Index Astartes: Storm Dragons

[Olgerth Istaarn]

Author's notes:

- I already had a story written, and lost most of it. Very tragic. I am planning to write a proper and pro-looking IA someday. Post will be edited and added to as I recall/recover what I had written.

- OMG CLICHES!! - don't care. Yes, I am perfectly well aware where I stole the battlecry from. Yes, there is a Deus Ex Machina Inquisitor. And yes, I'm also well aware that it's lame to post under the name of one of your own characters. Meh.

Storm Dragons Space Marine Chapter

"We shall not fear the coming of the Shadow of Death."

Chapter Founding: Circa 215.M31

Geneseed: Undisclosed (no genetic defects originally).

Base of Operations: Space Fortress Dragonspire

Homeworld: Verdant Beyond (uncatalogued).

Battlecry:

“We Soar on Wings of Fire! – We Bring His Will!”

Chanted repeatedly during a charge; the leader shouts “We Soar on Wings of Fire!” and the troops respond “We Bring His Will!”

Characters of Note:

Storm Dragons Chapter Council

Olgerth Istaarn

Chief Librarian and Chapter Master

Stanislav Stygir

Master of the Watch

Artorias Merkadas

Master of Recruits

Christopher Luthor

Master of Sanctity

Boris Romanov

Master of the Forge

Vladimir Kagan

Master of the Apothecarion

Alexander Strahan

First among the Eldest

Former Chapter Master, Venerable Dreadnought

Chapter Bondsmen Leaders

Alexander Kolchak

Master of the Fleet; Commander of the Dragonspire

Gerhard Boudenn

Master of the Bondsmen

Rostislav Agathon

Master of the Arsenal

Markus Idaros

Master of the Astropaths

Others

Lady Saralen Kurzman

Inquisitor, Ordo Hereticus

-------------------+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++-------------------

“We honor our Lord and Creator, the Immortal Emperor, who stands above all and guides us to Glory. We honor our Father whose face is hidden from us. We honor our Lady the Protector, by whose grace and wisdom our hands are unstained, and by whose works our Path is unobstructed. We honor the Bondsmen, for their toil gives us our Tools. We honor our Duty, for it gives us Purpose.”

-Christopher Luthor, Master of Sanctity of Storm Dragons

A secretive and elusive Chapter, the Storm Dragons cannot boast the notoriety gained by some of their Astartes brothers. It is a necessity however; for the secrets that the crimson-armoured warriors keep would’ve led to condemnation by lesser minds long ago, diverting them from their righteous path into betrayal at best, and into oblivion at worst.

The Storm Dragons are a crusading Chapter, basing their operations primarily from a mobile space fortress Dragonspire. They forever seek new threats to the Imperium, lending their might to beleaguered defenders of besieged worlds, or decapitating emerging dangers with swift and precise surgical strikes. Much of their crusading is done at the behest of Lady Saralen Kurzman, a radical Inquisitor to whom the Chapter owes a debt of honor.

Origins of the Chapter

Much is lost to us, but we shall not look to the past. We were there before the Great Shame, and that will suffice. Our true strength was forged by impossible odds and dire circumstance; that which brought us our greatest dishonor has spurred us on to achieve greater strength. As the Emperor alone decides when to grant us His Peace, he too will decide when to reveal to us the face of our Father – and only then shall our atonement be complete.”

- Olgerth Istaarn, Chapter Master and Chief Librarian of Storm Dragons

Sometime in the first quarter of M31, a new Space Marine Chapter was founded, its recruits coming from worlds of no particular note to form a fighting force that staunchly adhered to the tenets of the Codex Astartes.

Whatever accomplishments were garnered by the Storm Dragons in the first two millenna of their existence are now lost, either through vagaries of fate or perhaps deliberately stricken from the Chapter records. Unknown also are the names of their founding Chapter and of their Primarch; the Marines refer him only as Our Father whose face is hidden from us. It should be noted that some of the older wargear possessed by the Storm Dragons bears a winged sword motif; it is most prominently displayed upon the hulls of the Chapter's dreadnoughts. Whether this is a mere coincidence, a tribute to the Chapter's past or something more is unclear.

The Chapter’s true formative events came sometime in M38, during a routine reinforcement of a Forgeworld system that was threatened by a Chaos invasion force. The ensuing calamity brought the Storm Dragons to the brink of oblivion, nearly wiping them out. But the Chapter endured, forged anew, though branded with a stigma that would soon become the source of their greatest strength, but also condemn them to the perpetual existence wrapped in shadows and secrets.

Those events are to this day known as The Great Shame.

The Great Shame

We fought as best we could - that testament is written in blood upon that battlefield. But doing your best and failing is still a failure; that is our shame; and for that, we carry our penance.

- Alexander Strahan, former Chapter Master of the Storm Dragons

Concealed within mineral-rich asteroid fields of the Kharridan system was an Imperial Forgeworld designated Kharridan IV. Four great Mobile Forges orbited the bleak world, titanic and extremely rare spaceships each carrying entire manufacturing facilities on board. Below, deep underneath the smoke-wreathed surface, Adeptus Mechanicus guarded an even greater secret - an STC that, while incomplete, held within it blueprints of many rare and prized technologies pertaining both to Space Marine wargear and spacecraft construction.

When a roving Chaos fleet suddenly changed direction, making for Kharridan system with great speed, its inhabitants had little time to prepare. Still, planetary defense forces were assembled, reinforced by the Skitarii, and, at the last moment, with the forces of an entire Space Marine Chapter - the Storm Dragons. A defense fleet was mustered - and when Chaos Lord Yismar’s fleet finally emerged in realspace, the Forgeworld’s defenders were ready.

It became clear from the outset that they were overmatched. Somehow, by the time Yismar’s fleet arrived, it more than tripled in size, picking up reinforcements of its own along the way. The invasion force battered its way through the Forgeworld fleet, and the invasion of Kharridan IV began in its earnest.

For weeks, battles raged all across the Forgeworld. Lightning raids by Storm Dragons crippled many of the Chaos Lord’s vessels, eventually depriving him of the ability to perform full-scale planetary strikes.

Sadly, the desperate defense of Kharridan IV soon started to crumble underneath the weight of the invaders’ superior numbers. Storm Dragons had suffered heavy losses, and were forced to adopt new tactics not approved by Codex Astartes to compensate. But even their military ingenuity wasn’t enough to stave off the inevitable. Posted in part on the surface and in part on the orbiting Mobile Forges, the Space Marines did their best to repel the endless stream of Chaos Lord’s forces. On Kharridan IV, the slaughter was unimaginable. Soon, last-ditch preparations began to take the Mobile Forges away from the system, abandonging the resource-rich world but saving whatever technology and people could still be saved.

While preparations were made for evacuation, Yismar redoubled his attacks. By now, regular citizens of the Forgeworld took up arms, and stood together with the Skitarii, the Guard and the battle-brothers of the Storm Dragons. Such was their tenacity that it goaded the Chaos Lord into a great rage, and he ordered his coven of sorcerers to conjure a Warp storm to engulf the entire Kharridan system.

Chief Librarian Istaarn sensed the Warp echoes and warned the defenders of the Chaos Lord’s plans. A strike force was hastily put together, utilizing the newly developed short-range teleportation technology. The Storm Dragons launched a desperate attack on Yismar’s flagship. At great cost in lives, they were successful in penetrating the ship’s defenses, and reached the ship’s bridge.

It is written that Yismar and his coterie of defenders fought back fiercely, the Chaos Lord himself wielding a great and profane sword that seethed with energies of Chaos. Master Alexander Strahan faced the Chaos Lord in single combat. Strahan’s sword was soon broken in half, but the Chapter Master would not be denied. Though grievously wounded, Strahan launched himself at the Chaos Lord, wrestled his sword away from him, and then used the foul blade to decapitate Yismar.

That same instant, taint fell away from the sword, revealing an exquisitely forged Force Weapon of obviously Imperial origins. Strahan held the weapon high and issued a mighty battlecry that cowed those who remained of the Chaos Lord’s coterie; Strahan’s companions fell upon them, slaughtering every last one. Only then did the Chapter Master allow himself to collapse under the weight of his many injuries.

But for all glory of their victory, the Storm Dragons were late. Just as Olgerth Istaarn, the Chief Librarian, led his squad into the ritual space where the Chaos Sorcerers writhed and chanted, the Warp rift appeared and began to widen. Istaarn slew the sorcerers, but it was in vain; the Warp Storm engulfed the system, consuming the Chaos fleet, the fleeing civilian vessels, the Chapter’s remaining vessels, and the four Mobile Forges that everyone fought so hard to protect...

Interlude. In the Halls of the Shadow

Onward.

Olgerth Istaarn’s armoured fingers closed around the hilt of his new force sword as he took another step towards a great blast door that stood between him and his next objective.

Behind him were two and a half squads’ worth of Storm Dragons, arrayed into an assault formation and with weapons at ready. He could feel every one of them, but the nearly palpable tension that emanated from the Space Marines wasn’t the result of the normal Astartes pre-battle conditioning. Istaarn’s stomach lurched at the realization that even though it wasn’t exactly despair, it was damned close to it.

They had all seen what he had seen; some more, most less - after all, being a psyker, he was more susceptible to the depredations of the Empyrean. Earlier, he had caught a glimpse of his own reflection while donning his old artificer-forged armour, and immediately ordered helmet discipline for everyone. He had no doubt that behind the crimson ceramite and glowing optics, every man had to face his own private hells - but at least they were isolated from one another to a degree, unable to spread the contagion of sickly, unfamiliar emotions that normally haunted no Astartes.

Despair. Fear. We have seen what no man should see and live, felt what no man should feel and remain sane.

But they would endure. They were Astartes. And thus, the grim task of cleansing the space hulk fell to them, because when even the sturdiest Skitarii cyborgs could do no more than cower in dark corners and shed pitiful tears, the Storm Dragons stood up and fought.

The Mobile Forges and the fleet were no more. Instead, a vast, twisted construct slowly tumbled in vacuum, torn from the Warp back into realspace near a star system Emperor only knew where, or when. Istaarn’s own memories of what transpired after the Warp Storm hit were tarnished at best, the few lucid moments containing images the Libarian's mind could barely process without slipping into insanity.

When the Warp currents slammed the Forges and the fleet together into one planetoid-sized clump of metal, some of the Gellar Field generators miraculously endured. In some sections of the newly formed hulk, people survived while in others the Warp consumed them and their surroundings alike. Those areas, like the one beyond the blast door, had to be cleansed.

Istaarn drew the sword and thumbed the activation rune. This was a good weapon; an ancient one that survived many owners and even Chaos taint. Chapter Master Strahan handed it to the Librarian before lapsing into a coma, as a replacement for Istaarn’s own shattered staff. Fortunately, the surviving techpriests in their area of the hulk had enough expertise to attune the new weapon’s circuitry to Istaarn’s psychic signature. They also nursed his old suit of artificer armour back to working condition. A poor substitute for Istaarn's usual Terminator armour, its Aegis circuitry sparked and fizzed with feedback, and the machine spirit rolled out litanies of complaints with every motion. But the Tactical Dreadnought lay wrecked while the ancient suit functioned and provided protection, and it was all the Librarian could ask for at the moment.

Hefting the glowing weapon, Istaarn hacked at the blast door, the power blade passing through ceramite and metal like a hot knife through butter. After a dozen cuts, the great dark slab wobbled precariously. Istaarn motioned with his left hand, telekinetically shoving the blast door forward, until it caved and collapsed into the space behind it with a great tortured groan.

The area beyond was dimply lit in red, wavering light. Flesh covered the walls of a cavernous, cathedral-like space - bleeding muscle, writhing skin, jutting spurs of bone. Faces were in the flesh, twisting and blind, and they keened and warbled and moaned all together, weaving a melody that resonated in the air, the floor, and every joint of the Space Marines’ armour.

"Flamers to the fore! Cleanse and purify!" - he called, and they advanced into the filthy innards of the cathedral. Shadows darted from the red-tinted darkness, lithe, swift and vaguely female, springing forward on bare feet, hooves, claws and skittering spider legs. The Astartes met the charge with customary precision. The faces in the walls continued their foul chorus, but it was quickly drowned out by screeches, roar of chainblades. bark of bolters and howl of promethium-fueled flame.

Istaarn forged on, towards the center, where some sort of an altar or a throne rose up like twisted petals of a nightmare flower. Upon it sat a gargantuan female, naked save for an array of barbed jewelry that adorned her muscular frame. She was almost as tall and broad as an Astartes in full power armour, her face grotesquely distended into the likeness of a horned, fanged beast.

The creature made no move as the Librarian approached it, and only when he was almost within striking distance, it spoke.

"Why do you come to me once again, little witch? The feast is over for now; we reflect and wait upon the oblivion to come and claim us, so that we may feast once more."

A step. Then another.

"Tell me: do you desire my company once again so soon?"

Unsteady hum of the Aegis circuitry. Faltering glow of the psychic hood.

"Tell me, little witch: why do you disturb our ruminations? I have already seen you in the halls of the shadow. I heard you renounce your pathetic corpse god a thousand times over. I saw you dance with the Changer of Ways, and he strung you along like the puppet you are. I witnessed you drink the blood of those you slew, and laugh. I watched you wallow in your own excrement. I saw you lay with the child-whores of Slaa..."

Istaarn struck, but the demon was faster, springing to her feet and vaulting outside of his range with deceptive ease. Her hands elongated into serrated blades of metal and bone and she came at him like a charging bull. The Librarian sidestepped and countered, his sword slicing neatly through the demon's left elbow. With a screech, the monstrosity lashed out again, its remaining blade carving a jagged furrow into Istaarn's plastron. They clashed, parted, then clashed again, and the fight ended as quickly as it began: the demon sagged heavily against her throne, her left leg severed just above the knee. A dozen different voices issued from her fanged mouth, hurling spittle and futile insults at the Librarian as he closed in for the kill.

She was still ranting and jabbering when the stroke of Istaarn's blade neatly decapitated her. The Librarian swung again, opening the creature’s torso from the collarbone to the pubic bone, and then once more, bisecting her through the abdomen. A shower of foul blood, organs and meat flopped all around the grotesque throne, and it was over.

The cathedral of flesh was ablaze around him. Istaarn surveyed his warriors as they finished off the last of the room’s inhabitants. He saw that every man stood a fraction firmer, as if a weight was lifted from their shoulders. The Librarian drew himself up to his full height and lifted his lightning-wreathed weapon into the darkness above.

This is what we do. Thus we shall be saved. We might not be the Grey Knights, but we will endure.

To Be Continued...

[Sgt. Rackhamm]

It looks good, and it seems that you have place a lot of thought on it, but you must realize that the High Lords of Terra and the Sicons of Mars know who and where you came from.

 

Just look at the Blood Ravens for example. They are a chapter founded from the Thousand Sons. Only a few know that, and many are in either tainted by Chaos or are now Dreadnaughts. Now the fact that you and everyone else just lost all the facts of your history is pretty much impossible. :devil: :devil: :RTBBB:

 

I like what you have done, and I think it is pretty good. Keep it up! ;)

[Ferrus Manus]

Just look at the Blood Ravens for example. They are a chapter founded from the Thousand Sons. Only a few know that, and many are in either tainted by Chaos or are now Dreadnaughts. Now the fact that you and everyone else just lost all the facts of your history is pretty much impossible. :) :RTBBB: :RTBBB:

 

I like what you have done, and I think it is pretty good. Keep it up! ;)

umm... Wha? Since when?

[Olgerth Istaarn]

That's why I said "Lost or deliberately stricken from record". The primogenitor is not unknown, he's just "undisclosed" to anyone not on Chapter Council, and it is, in part, the Chapter's self-imposed penance.

 

There's a good reason the Chapter views itself as stigmatized (besides losing the Forgeworld), I'll explain it later, I promise :D For now let's just say, they don't carry out their penance in the grim, depressed and self-flagellating fashion as, say, Dark Angels. Rather, the Storm Dragons are of the mind of "we've screwed up, and badly, but the Powers that Be want us to live on and kick ass in the name of redemption - so damnit, kick ass we will, and we'll be DAMN GOOD at it". The stigma is a blessing and a curse at once, you'll see.

 

P.S. Writing and re-writing a story largely from drafts and memory is a moderately aweful experience, as I've come to discover.

[Argon]

- OMG CLICHES!! - don't care. Yes, I am perfectly well aware where I stole the battlecry from.

 

Meh. I'm shamelessly using the names of D&D monsters for some of my Chaos Renegades. Borrowing things from other media is entirely okay.

 

Concealed within mineral-rich asteroid fields of the Kharridan system was an Imperial Forgeworld designated Kharridan IV. Four great Mobile Forges orbited the bleak hive world

 

It can't really be a Hive World and a Forge World. If it's a Forge World, the Mechanicus has basically made the entire planet into a factory. It'll have hab-units for the non-servitor workers, but that's about it.

[Olgerth Istaarn]

Updated the first post...