The Aphotican Oath - A Word Bearer Warband (Update: Aug 24)

[Dorns Padawan]

Hey A D-B, really like the beakie marine, got that Chuck Norris pose about him or is is Jason Statham... :P . Could be my terrible eyesight, but what is on top of the banner? Looks like a Tyranid head? Like the kit bash overall, very nicely done. Defo the Norris/Statham beakie marine is my fav with the banner guy a clsoe 2nd.

[Quixus]

I really like your kitbashes. Mind telling me where you got the helmets for the icon bearer and the last marine?

[HellChyld]

the icon bearers head comes from the dark angels upgrade sprue. I think the the last guys helmet comes from the black templars upgrade sprue but dont qoute me on that

[Quixus]

You are right though on both accounts. I found them on a bitz site - out of stock though :)

[Doghouse]

Nice use of parts. The beakie and the last marine are my favourites so far, that helmet always gives of an aura of I'm not to be messed with to me.

 

What do you have planned for your lord and have you any thoughts on what sort of armour you are going to have supporting them yet?

 

I like the splinter faction concept, the idea of fanatics among fanatics is something that appeals to me. Khorne would be pretty cool but I'd go with Tzeentch personally because I like schemers and it's not that often that you see followers of tzeentch that aren't solely based around rubric marines. Might make for an interesting twist.

[A D-B]

Okay.

 

I've been neglecting this thread, but a lot of my effort is going into actually organising the campaign behind the scenes, to get people enthused and on the same page. I'm still not entirely sure about some of the players - my friends have weird jobs with tides of Being Busy and Doing Nothing, sometimes; it can make hobby stuff something of a nightmare. And some of them are just useless, I admit.

 

I am, too.

 

Suffice to say, 2012's New Year's Resolution is to Get Things Done.

 

...and finish my next Horus Heresy book; start another 40K novel series; work on my non-40K novel; play some WoW; do some book signings I don't have time for; and spend time with my daughter (who'll be born in 8 weeks from... today).

 

So, with that in mind, the updates (for anyone who still even remotely cares) run a little like this:

 

1. The Armies: Several players have either arrived from nowhere or changed their armies while in the preparation phase. The full list now looks like this:

 

The Odrysian Reclamation Crusade -- (Imperium of Man)

Ben C: Imperial Guard: The Siculean 7th - "The Lucky Sevens".

Andy: Space Marines: Grey Knights.

Sarah: Space Marines: Silver Skulls.

Katie: Space Marines: Shadow Wolves.

 

The Bitter Tide -- (Chaos)

Ben M: Chaos Marines: Nurgle warband - "The Fist of Malarius".

John: Chaos Marines: Night Lord warband - "The Vassals of Magaeron".

Rachel: Chaos Marines: Night Lord warband - "The Purgation of Gardatha".

Aaron: Chaos Marines: Brotherhood of Darkness warband - "The Aphotican Oath".

Sander: Chaos Marines: Iron Warrior warband - "The Hammer of Ahmandar".

Greg: Chaos Marines: World Eater warband - "The Knights Golgotha".

 

The Unaligned -- (Xenos)

Steve: Necrons: The Sautekh Dynasty.

Emma: Eldar: Undecided Craftworld.

 

 

2. Andy: Andy recently won every single prize yet another tournament (usually winning entire matches without losing a model), and there's buzz that his army list needs to be toned down for casual stuff, like the campaign. Apparently the only trophy his team didn't win was the Sportsmanship one. What a shock.

 

3. My Army: Casual observers will note that I've changed my army again, making it the third time - from Black Legion to Word Bearers to Brotherhood of Darkness. The reasons for this are pretty cowardly, but ultimately they'll save me a lot of hassle in the future. I originally changed to the Word Bearers for their colour scheme, but I've left them purely for work reasons. I liked my army fluff, but it was hardly irreplaceable, and it comes down to a matter of not wanting to look biased to the readership. I see other authors suffering because fans think "He makes Chapter X overpowered because he plays them" or "He makes them too good, because they're his favourite". I know that level of ignorance is natural from some angles, but I want to limit it as much as possible where I'm concerned. So I'm avoiding playing anything I'll ever write about.

 

(Pointless note: I don't really have a favourite faction, Legion or Chapter; in fact, in all of 40K, there're only a tiny handful of factions I'm really not interested in, and I'm not stupid enough to ever say what they are, because people will take it the wrong way.)

 

I'll save most of it for my army fluff/list post this weekend, but I'm playing the Aphotican Oath as a warband of the Brotherhood of Darkness. My background direction for the Brotherhood itself has them as a large splinter group of the Eighth Legion, with close relations to the Night Lords but no longer completely aligned along the sane ideologies. The Brotherhood cover their armour in Chaotic runes, carve them into their flesh as well, and are (long story short) a very aggressive, pious splinter of the Night Lords that are heavily into daemonancy (similar to the Sanctified and the Word Bearers).

 

As a cool aside, the change works better for the narrative. You'll see why in the fiction.

 

4. The Campaign's Opening Fiction: Is finished, at long last. It's a short story from the perspective of all six Chaos warlords, coming together in the wreckage of a space hulk, to convene and scheme and plot while under a tenuous ceasefire. I'll post that later this weekend, just for kicks. It shows quite a lot of the mood and theme behind each of the Bitter Tide warbands. It's the first of what should be many fiction slices throughout the campaign, as battles are won and lost along the way.

 

I'm biased, but I like it a lot. It's very dark, very moody. The Bitter Tide is made of some truly unpleasant souls.

 

5. Army Commander Artwork: I'm going to ask Slaine69 (who did my First Claw artwork) if he'll do a similar thing for the various army commanders, showing them in a line, looking mean. That's delayed because most of us are reluctant to actually make our commander models so early in the army, but I've finally got all my bitz for various sites, and I know a couple of the others are ready to go already. That'll be a lush couple of pieces for the campaign, if it pans out.

[firestorm40k]

Suffice to say, 2012's New Year's Resolution is to Get Things Done.

 

...and finish my next Horus Heresy book; start another 40K novel series; work on my non-40K novel; play some WoW; do some book signings I don't have time for; and spend time with my daughter (who'll be born in 8 weeks from... today).

I doubt that will leave much time for making/painting miniatures... :(

 

Congrats on the imminent birth of your daughter - enjoy every moment with her, because the cliche is true - they do grow up very, very fast :)

[Dosjetka]

I'll save most of it for my army fluff/list post this weekend, but I'm playing the Aphotican Oath as a warband of the Brotherhood of Darkness. My background direction for the Brotherhood itself has them as a large splinter group of the Eighth Legion, with close relations to the Night Lords but no longer completely aligned along the sane ideologies. The Brotherhood cover their armour in Chaotic runes, carve them into their flesh as well, and are (long story short) a very aggressive, pious splinter of the Night Lords that are heavily into daemonancy (similar to the Sanctified and the Word Bearers).

I'm looking forward to reading about them and seeing what models you cook up to show us ;)

 

Good luck with the baby girl, work and all :)

 

Ludovic

[Doghouse]

3. My Army: Casual observers will note that I've changed my army again, making it the third time - from Black Legion to Word Bearers to Brotherhood of Darkness. The reasons for this are pretty cowardly, but ultimately they'll save me a lot of hassle in the future. I originally changed to the Word Bearers for their colour scheme, but I've left them purely for work reasons. I liked my army fluff, but it was hardly irreplaceable, and it comes down to a matter of not wanting to look biased to the readership. I see other authors suffering because fans think "He makes Chapter X overpowered because he plays them" or "He makes them too good, because they're his favourite". I know that level of ignorance is natural from some angles, but I want to limit it as much as possible where I'm concerned. So I'm avoiding playing anything I'll ever write about.

 

Bit gutted to hear that you're not doing word bearers but understand your reasons why. Personally speaking I think that you could get away with it to be honest but a different approach is always cool.

 

Are you still going with the mix of FW armour with the marines? If you can get slaine69 to do the champions artwork that would look really cool, very nice idea to flesh out the campaign.

[Noctus Cornix]

3. My Army: Casual observers will note that I've changed my army again, making it the third time - from Black Legion to Word Bearers to Brotherhood of Darkness. The reasons for this are pretty cowardly, but ultimately they'll save me a lot of hassle in the future. I originally changed to the Word Bearers for their colour scheme, but I've left them purely for work reasons. I liked my army fluff, but it was hardly irreplaceable, and it comes down to a matter of not wanting to look biased to the readership. I see other authors suffering because fans think "He makes Chapter X overpowered because he plays them" or "He makes them too good, because they're his favourite". I know that level of ignorance is natural from some angles, but I want to limit it as much as possible where I'm concerned. So I'm avoiding playing anything I'll ever write about.

 

(Pointless note: I don't really have a favourite faction, Legion or Chapter; in fact, in all of 40K, there're only a tiny handful of factions I'm really not interested in, and I'm not stupid enough to ever say what they are, because people will take it the wrong way.)

 

To be frank, even with your change of army, you're probably going to get some sort of hassle from someone if not more for the Brotherhood of Darkness. As you said before, you wanted to change from the Word Bearers because you didn't want anyone to believe you are being biased to your armies but now you have chosen an army that is not only cheap knock off of the Night Lords legion, but you also decided that they will be a splinter warband from the Legion itself. I can already see some pathetic prick now complaining that you are biased towards the Night Lords (as I've seen some do so already, unfortunately) In short, you shouldn't be herded by peer pressure into changing what you want to play. It's a hobby after all dude. Enjoy it how you want.

[Dark Apostle Thirst]

3. My Army: Casual observers will note that I've changed my army again, making it the third time - from Black Legion to Word Bearers to Brotherhood of Darkness. The reasons for this are pretty cowardly, but ultimately they'll save me a lot of hassle in the future. I originally changed to the Word Bearers for their colour scheme, but I've left them purely for work reasons. I liked my army fluff, but it was hardly irreplaceable, and it comes down to a matter of not wanting to look biased to the readership. I see other authors suffering because fans think "He makes Chapter X overpowered because he plays them" or "He makes them too good, because they're his favourite". I know that level of ignorance is natural from some angles, but I want to limit it as much as possible where I'm concerned. So I'm avoiding playing anything I'll ever write about.

 

(Pointless note: I don't really have a favourite faction, Legion or Chapter; in fact, in all of 40K, there're only a tiny handful of factions I'm really not interested in, and I'm not stupid enough to ever say what they are, because people will take it the wrong way.)

 

To be frank, even with your change of army, you're probably going to get some sort of hassle from someone if not more for the Brotherhood of Darkness. As you said before, you wanted to change from the Word Bearers because you didn't want anyone to believe you are being biased to your armies but now you have chosen an army that is not only cheap knock off of the Night Lords legion, but you also decided that they will be a splinter warband from the Legion itself. I can already see some pathetic prick now complaining that you are biased towards the Night Lords (as I've seen some do so already, unfortunately) In short, you should be herded by peer pressure into changing what you want to play. It's a hobby after all dude. Enjoy it how you want.

This, so much. The whole reason this hobby exists is for its followers to enjoy themselves. Do whatever you want - those who would give you flak like that aren't even worth notice in the first place, simply because they're corrupting that.

[popkhorne]

Ugh, I cannot count the amount of arguments I've had with my brother over whether or not you show favoritism towards the night lords, specifically in first heretic( he plays word bearers, I play night lords). And I'm probably biased myself but, from me, I think all of your characters have been fairly portrayed and fit snugly into established canon. I think most of the whining just comes from people who don't like to see their favorite characters lose, but in any event It's cool to see you guys are adding so much background to your games. Is their supposed to be a role-play element involved, Or are you guys just going to keep in mind the tragic back-story of your commander when playing?

[DavidKits]

How odd is it. that recently I was talking with some friends in the local GW about this campaign... about how you were part of it and writing up fluff and all. to much of my surprise i find your latest update when before i didn't know how it was coming and for the most part wanted to wish you well and have alot of fun playing! campaigns are always a blast when you got the right people. less arguments when playing with people ya know is always best.

 

I do wish you luck with all your endeavors be it writing, spending time with ya munchkin, or playing in this campaign. I tip my hat to you to you and I hope to see many updates on all the fun times you have while playing.

 

Be Safe,

 

David.

[Chapter Master Ignis Domus]

Stick with the Word Bearers if you like them. The minority group on this minority medium that would complain are probably not worth taking some fun out of your campaign just to appease them. They'd simply find something else to moan and groan about, and soon you'd have nothing left. Ignore us/them! The internet means nothing!

 

On another note, THE plan looks quite nice, especially since it has dark red letters. Instant path to success.

[Dorns Padawan]

Glad you have not forgotten this thread AD-B, like many others I have been looking forward to the way it will eventually shape up.

 

...and finish my next Horus Heresy book; start another 40K novel series; work on my non-40K novel; play some WoW; do some book signings I don't have time for; and spend time with my daughter (who'll be born in 8 weeks from... today).

 

I know won't be your next one but I pray to the Emperor/Chaos Gods/Omnisiah [Delete as appropriate] the next time you say '...next Horus Heresy Book' it will be about Sigismund.

 

Be great if Slaine69 could do you some art work for you guys, I liked his First Claw piece. Has anyone made any further progress with their army since you last posted?

[A D-B]

Suffice to say, 2012's New Year's Resolution is to Get Things Done.

 

...and finish my next Horus Heresy book; start another 40K novel series; work on my non-40K novel; play some WoW; do some book signings I don't have time for; and spend time with my daughter (who'll be born in 8 weeks from... today).

I doubt that will leave much time for making/painting miniatures... :)

 

Congrats on the imminent birth of your daughter - enjoy every moment with her, because the cliche is true - they do grow up very, very fast :D

 

While I thank you for the parenthood advice, I curse you for mentioning the hobby hindrance.

 

I'm looking forward to reading about them and seeing what models you cook up to show us :P

 

I've now got one 10-man squad made, along with two half-done converted Obliterators. Photos are on the way in January.

 

3. My Army: Casual observers will note that I've changed my army again, making it the third time - from Black Legion to Word Bearers to Brotherhood of Darkness. The reasons for this are pretty cowardly, but ultimately they'll save me a lot of hassle in the future. I originally changed to the Word Bearers for their colour scheme, but I've left them purely for work reasons. I liked my army fluff, but it was hardly irreplaceable, and it comes down to a matter of not wanting to look biased to the readership. I see other authors suffering because fans think "He makes Chapter X overpowered because he plays them" or "He makes them too good, because they're his favourite". I know that level of ignorance is natural from some angles, but I want to limit it as much as possible where I'm concerned. So I'm avoiding playing anything I'll ever write about.

 

Bit gutted to hear that you're not doing word bearers but understand your reasons why. Personally speaking I think that you could get away with it to be honest but a different approach is always cool.

 

Are you still going with the mix of FW armour with the marines? If you can get slaine69 to do the champions artwork that would look really cool, very nice idea to flesh out the campaign.

 

Hail, the Mighty Doghouse.

 

The plan (like I think you implied) is to make the new approach interesting enough to be as captivating as the Legion fluff. I'm definitely still going with the mix of FW armour and loyalist bitz.

 

To be frank, even with your change of army, you're probably going to get some sort of hassle from someone if not more for the Brotherhood of Darkness. As you said before, you wanted to change from the Word Bearers because you didn't want anyone to believe you are being biased to your armies but now you have chosen an army that is not only cheap knock off of the Night Lords legion, but you also decided that they will be a splinter warband from the Legion itself. I can already see some pathetic prick now complaining that you are biased towards the Night Lords (as I've seen some do so already, unfortunately) In short, you shouldn't be herded by peer pressure into changing what you want to play. It's a hobby after all dude. Enjoy it how you want.

 

Without a doubt, there'll always be some people who insist Author X does Action Y for Reason Z. It sucks, but it's one of those facts of life you can never completely avoid. I do think playing a non-Legion warband will at least cut down a teeny-tiny little bit of it, though. Every little helps.

 

As for enjoying the hobby, since there are so few factions I actively don't like, I enjoy pretty much any army. Putting your own flair on your own warband is one of the massive appeals of Chaos fluff, so I think everything will still be on track.

 

Ugh, I cannot count the amount of arguments I've had with my brother over whether or not you show favoritism towards the night lords, specifically in first heretic( he plays word bearers, I play night lords). And I'm probably biased myself but, from me, I think all of your characters have been fairly portrayed and fit snugly into established canon. I think most of the whining just comes from people who don't like to see their favorite characters lose, but in any event It's cool to see you guys are adding so much background to your games. Is their supposed to be a role-play element involved, Or are you guys just going to keep in mind the tragic back-story of your commander when playing?

 

1. The First Heretic is a good example of what I mean, actually. I don't see it mentioned very often, but people have definitely seen Sevatar and Curze's appearances as some sort of weird favouritism, because Sevatar is the first Traitor to ever voice the words "Death to the False Emperor", and Curze forces Corax to back off, as well as talking smack to Lorgar. The reality of both aspects is very much blander, though. Sevatar says it purely because the World Eaters, Death Guard, Emperor's Children and Luna Wolves are already on the surface. They're not there, so it can't be them. Out of the remaining four Legions present, the Alpha Legion may or may not even consider the Emperor to be false in the first place, and the Word Bearers are already hosting the damn meeting. They've said enough. So between the Iron Warriors and Night Lords, I went with the Night Lords because it's the kind of thing Sevatar would say, and because I wanted to foreshadow what a treacherous ass he is, who loves the sound of his own voice.

 

And as for Curze throwing down with Corax; I'd just shown a Chaos Primarch - the primarch whose Legion the book was about - getting his teeth kicked in by a Loyalist Primarch. When it came to which Traitor Primarch would force Corax to back off: Angron, Horus, Fulgrim and Mortarion were already detailed in several books as being on the other side of the battlefield. Can't use them. Lorgar was on his knees trying to hold his intestines in. Couldn't use him. That left Curze, Perturabo or Alpharius. Perturabo wasn't on the cards because of... something behind the scenes in a (much) later book. Remember, at these meetings, when another author says they have vague plans for using Character X "at some point", it's easier to just leave them alone. I didn't want to show Alpharius himself in a clear, objective scene that showed him in battle - I think a lot of what's interesting about him is that you're never sure where he is on the battlefield, or indeed who he is. That left Curze - who, with his claws - was a "dark" mirror to Corax: same pale features, black eyes, and so on. Using him made a lot of thematic sense anyway, even without all the other reasons.

 

Even without me explaining all of that, a lot of it was either in the text or obvious with a moment's reflection. But, no. There'll always be a few people who read it and just say "LOL HE LOVES THE NIGHT LORDS."

 

Absolute monkey-shizz, but there we go.

 

2. As for the RP elements in the campaign... Sort of. Most of us are keen roleplayers either in WoW, tabletop (D&D, etc.) or both. We're planning a lot of fiction to back the campaign up as it goes. It'll be in-character stuff for immersion and background depth, rather than "my guy is better than your guy", etc.

 

In fact, I'll post the recently finished campaign introduction (from the Chaos perspective) as the next update.

 

Glad you have not forgotten this thread AD-B, like many others I have been looking forward to the way it will eventually shape up.

 

It's slow, but we're getting there. As more of it comes together, I'll have juicier and picture-ier updates.

[Dosjetka]

I do appreciate the fact that you took your time to explain things :D Always interesting to see how people think/decide/perceive things!

 

Looking forward to the next update!

 

Ludovic

[A D-B]

Ladies and gentlemen, here's the campaign introduction, told from the Traitors' point of view. Each of the six Chaos players did a short scene of their lords arriving to a meeting on neutral ground, and here's the result, all collected together.

 

 

The Bitter Tide

 

HE HAD SURRENDERED his patience around the same time he surrendered his eyes. Like the sockets that stared from his skull, the place where temperance once nestled within his heart was cold, and black, and hollow.

 

A voice rose from the silence, marred by vox-crackle. ‘The first of their ships draws near.’

 

He turned his helmed head towards the speaker, his sightless gaze hidden behind tourmaline eye lenses. The Oath’s scars itched across his face; those twin lines of jagged scar tissue carving from forehead to cheekbones, right through each unseeing eye. Across the rest of his flesh, a host of god-runes ached in ragged rhythm with the beat of his twin hearts. Each of the sigils was reflected upon his war plate, gold etched on black, mirroring the scars on skin beneath.

 

‘The first sign of treachery will be their last,’ the voice crackled again.

 

The eyeless lord remained silent. He wasn’t a soul given to making needless threats, nor was he one to heed them. Instead, he stood in the absolute darkness, flanked by his closest brothers, looking over the ruin of the command deck.

 

In better days and grander wars, this had been the strategium chamber of the First Among Equals. If one cared to savour the whispers of ghosts, no finer warship had ever sailed the God-Emperor’s black skies.

 

Pale lips peeled back from filed teeth as the lord smiled at the thought. Once, this bridge had thrummed with life, with souls possessing a great – if deluded – purpose. Now it stood as a monument to failure, crewed by dust and the desiccated dead, serving as neutral ground for a gathering of the Imperium’s enemies. On the central command throne, the corpse of the warship’s captain sat in mummified repose, in harmony with the hundreds of crew slain at their stations and given over to slow decay.

 

‘Let them come,’ the lord said at last. ‘This night, we give birth to the Bitter Tide.’

 

 

I: The Vassals of Megaeron

 

THE SHIP CAME ALONE and in silence. She slid through towards the macro-agglomeration, her engines cold, and her systems sustained on the smallest sips of power. She was a murderess. Her sleek lines held a feral majesty that might once have been beautiful. Her makers had dreamed of a future of conquest in the name of truth, but those times were long past and the dreams had withered. Countless atrocities had scorched her surface and soaked into her bones. Her hull was a serrated arrow head of red iron, studded with weapons and pitted by battle scars. If any found her beautiful now it was only as an executioner might admire the notched smile of an axe. She had many names, but the name that clung to her like rust was the Blood Rebuke.

 

On her bridge three sets of eyes watch the macro-agglomeration grow closer.

 

‘This is a bad idea,’ muttered Felgarth. His body was aching were it bonded with the metal of his augmetics, and that was always a bad sign. He did not like the idea of this gathering, not at all. The Aphotican Oath were gene-kin, a splinter of a splinter of a shattered legion, but kin all the same. They had murdered worlds together, and traded in secrets and souls. That counted for much, but the Oath had other alliances, and those alliances might mean renewing acquaintances best left in the dead past.

 

The others were silent, not that he would have expected them to respond. Cautrix had not moved since they began their approach. He was staring at the screen, his chain bound arms vibrating as they gripped the haft of his sheathed sword. Felgarth knew it was taking all his willpower not to draw the weapon and let it drink blood. Beside him Gulgorg’s shoulders shook, the blackened plates of his armour rattling together with a sound like grinding iron. Felgarth supposed it might have been the siege breaker chuckling. Or perhaps growling. Around them the hulking shapes of the terminators stood unmoving, their armour and weapons purring with shackled power. ‘Just me then,’ muttered Felgarth.

 

‘Two ships,’ said Gulgorg, his voice a mechanical growl.

 

‘What?’ Felgarth turned to look at Gulgorg’s hunched form. The leader of the Unmade kept his eyes on the pict display.

 

‘There are two ships holding position off the hulk.’

 

‘Macro- agglomeration,’ corrected Felgarth. Gulgorg shrugged, the gesture setting the skull hung chains clinking against his war plate.

 

‘Two ships. A mighty gathering, indeed.’ Contempt dripped from the siege breaker’s voice.

 

‘More will answer,’ said Felgarth. Yes, he thought, and who answers might be the reason why this is a bad idea.

 

‘They will need to.’

 

Felgarth was going to reply but then a cold voice came from behind them. ‘There is more to this than might,’ Megaeron walked from the darkness. A coat of tanned skin flapped softly against his dark armour. Flayed faces screamed with hollow mouths from the patchwork, and starred with holes that had been eyes. Felgarth knelt as he tasted bile and blood in his throat, and whispers filled his ears. Beside him Cautrix drew his blade and laid it on the deck. A heart beat later Gulgorg bowed with a sound of grating gears.

 

Megaeron halted and looked over his vassal lords, the space beneath his hood pointing at each in turn. Felgarth had not seen his lord’s true face for hundred years. Sometimes he wondered whether it still existed behind chainmail veil. More often he hoped he would never find out.

‘This is a matter of oaths and blood,’ said Megaeron, his voice a dead rasp. ‘Old oaths and older blood. Both call and we,’ Megaeron’s head turned slowly towards Gulgorg, ‘we answer.’

 

‘Then why do we come cloaked in silence and darkness?’ growled Gulgorg. Felgarth felt Cautrix tense beside him, his hand twitching towards his sword. Felgarth knew that Megaeron needed only to give the smallest gesture to unshackle Cautrix’s fury. No command came. The air had gone cold. Felgarth saw ethereal shapes coil around Megaeron, shapes with teeth and clusters of dead eyes.

 

‘Because that is the old way, because we do not know who else will come, because treachery sometimes runs deeper than blood, and because I will it.’

 

‘Yes, my lord, ’said Gulgorg, his voiced sounding as ice was forming in his throat. Megaeron looked away, his veiled face tilting to look up at the pict screen that hung above them. The hulk had grown to fill the screen with views of its twisted metal surface.

 

‘We are close enough, we will hold here,’ said Megaeron, and walked from the bridge. Behind him his vassals followed. ‘Come, our brothers in darkness will be waiting.’

 

II: The Knights Golgotha

 

THE SPACE HULK was either a poor joke or a calculated insult, a reminder of long nights carving pale glass scars into the wastelands of Old Earth from the heavens while his brothers carved into the Emperor’s heart. Sar-Killiath wondered how many of the warriors owed their lives, their souls and their immortality to the fighting retreat he and his comrades in the fleet had made from Terra’s burning skies and the failure of Horus the Fool. It was a crow’s joke, indeed.

 

The hand-me-down Crusader armour of those ancient days was gone, as was the boy within it. Killiath stalked the cold, void-exposed corridors of the space hulk in a suit of red lacquered armour like no other. Forged by his own alien smiths in the armouries of his own ship, it was a rejection of both his service in the Crusade and in the Heresy, it was something new yet made in the image of the most ancient god. For ten millennia, he had killed by sword and ship, by bolter and blade, all in the name of That-Which-Is-War-Eternal.

 

The ichors of half a dozen xenotypes stained the teeth of the daemons accompanying him. Whereas Bronzefang had remained as loyal and obedient as ever, the Loatheblade had proven to be the greatest threat encountered so far. After hacking apart a clutch of Hrud in the torpedo tubes of a ruined cruiser, the berserker-glaive had turned in Killiath’s hand and almost decapitated him. The daemon bound within his former commander’s weapon had seethed for millennia, the adamantine teeth of the chain driven by a ceaseless hunger for blood.

 

In contrast, Bronzefang was strangely temperate; the shadowy forms that shied away from the Skull Lord’s gaze seemed to fear the great brass hound. It prowled alongside its master, engines growling and pistons hissing, a basso profundo duet to the contralto of the daemon-weapon’s shriek. Sar-Killiath had long ago earned the juggernaut’s loyalty, evacuating its makers from their doomed home world.

 

The snaking corridors of the mangled ships were second nature to the Skull Lord. Through a career in the fleet of the Twelfth Legion, Sar-Killiath had lived and killed in labyrinthine corridors. These narrow vaults though were more than familiar; he had walked them before as an ally and a War Hound in the days of Crusade and again as an invader and Eater of Worlds on the way to the Eye. This was the First Amongst Equals.

 

The threshold of the bridge lay open. The red eyes of sentries glowed from the darkest alcoves. The Flame of Rage hove in to view off the bridge view screen; a bullish monolith of bronze and crimson ceramics. As Sar-Killiath crossed the bridge, Tarasq’s voice snarled over the address system.

 

“...This is Tarasq of the Given, Prince of the Chosen of Angron, Knight of Golgotha, any hostile manoeuvres will be met with overwhelming force. Repeat, this is Tarasq of the Given...” It was no threat either. The Flame of Rage had once delivered Imperial Truth to the darkest parts of the galaxy. Now that the truth had soured to lies, its lance batteries, torpedo tubes, bombardment cannon and launch bays were no less potent. Countless planets had died in its maw: either ripped apart by seismic charges or chewed to pieces by the warriors it carried. Like its master, the battle-barge was a world eater.

 

The corpses of the ship’s crew sat freeze-dried at their stations. Shadows stood before the command throne. Without hesitation, Sar-Killiath crossed the deck to stand over the captain’s corpse. He saluted the dead man, fist to chest in the Unification manner and lashed out with his glaive. Loatheblade screamed through the neck of the ship’s master. The skull rolled to the base of the throne.

 

‘Sar-Killiath: Commodore of the Flame of Rage and Skull Lord of the Eighth Chapter of the Twelfth Legion, the Knights Golgotha of the World Eaters, reporting for duty.’

 

III: The Hammer of Ahmandar

 

THE THREE SHIPS entered real space in silence, weapon systems locking onto the already present would-be allies. Two Idolator class vessels, The Conquer of Kaarta and The Fall of Bambara, flanking the battlebarge once known as the Emperor's Guidance.

 

No efforts were made to hail those that arrived earlier, the ships' allegiance were clear. Were in an age long past the battlebarge bore the imperial aquilla on its hull, it was now stripped off. The entire length of the ship, called Fortitudine Vincimus in this age, was painted dark grey. Yellow stripes, the paint tatering off more and more with each jump through the Empyrean, ran down diagonally. On it's prow, forged from the remains of the ships it had ended, an iron mask.

 

The three ships found their place around the space hulk. The Fortitudine realigning his weapons on the supposed meeting place as six figures prepared to embark on the collection of dead ships below them.

 

* * *

 

Their arrival stirred the dormant life in the dead vessel. The light of a dying star filling the hallways and the explosion of sound resonating through them.

 

Were once was nothing but darkness, now stood six shapes, crimson eyes registering the dozens of threats that surrounded them. Weapons, sheathed during the teleportation, were drawn. Energy fields flared up around the blades, reactors started to hum louder as their surroundings became alive.

 

“He has failed us, again.”

 

Grunts of confirmation were uttered as the first greenskin raiders dropped down from the rafters above. Perhaps they had hoped for an easy kill, they would be mistaken. It took no effort to end their pitiful existence, but the act it self was an insult to the skill of the new arrivals.

 

“Your flesh-brother has done to this on purpose.”

 

A hasty 'lord' was muttered after by the hulking figure, his power claw gutting one of the attackers. Again several figures grunted.

 

“Silence, fools. I did not ask you to speak. How far are we off the meeting place, Mhartal?”

 

A chain-fist was deactivated as a bolter was raised. As terminator, his armour decorated with trophies won in combat. The helmet of an Imperial Fist marine and the skulls of fallen enemies worth remembering.

 

“One point two clicks, Lord Ahmandar. With the Fortitudine registering at least forty zero-threat and twelve minor-threat targets between us. Your brother, has failed us.”

 

An awkward silence followed on the vox as five of the terminators waited for an answer of the one they were forced to obey, only the screaming rage of greenskin primitives that slipped through onto the vox-channel and static breaking it was heard.

 

“Lord,” Mhartal finally added.

 

A grin crept on Ahmandar's face, pleased to see the terminator show his obedience. Raising his axe he cut down another of the greenskins, red xenos blood splashing across the purple and silver helmet impaled on his trophy rack.

 

“Good. We walk.”

 

IV: The Fist of Malarius

 

THE LEFT THEIR PILOT in the haunted stillness of a docking bay. He slavered over the Thunderhawk's controls, leering at them through eyes that had become crusted slits, emotionally and biologically inseparable from his beloved craft.

 

Afterburners flared with the mutant's impatience, illuminating their armoured forms in flashes of pointless fire. He would waste fuel like this until they returned, and sneer as no other mortal dared when they growled their dire promises.

 

Gaius cast a glance through the yawning maw of the hangar doors. He didn't need lens enhancements to see those bleak, jagged shapes against the stars. The vessels of their dubious allies reclined in that casual repose common to all apex predators, licking blood from their claws, watching each other from mere kilometres away. Almost intimately close.

 

Vaulk voxed his serpent's laughter, filling the silence. 'Ssss-sss-sss-sss.'

 

Of the two brothers he walked with, Gaius hated one, and feared the other. He was himself merely tolerated.

 

Vaulk had lost the Astartes stride that power armour imposed on the post-human body. Underneath scarred ceramite, his frame was twisted into a hunched, forward-leaning shape. Draped across his shoulders was a filthy pelt – some tribal triumph in decades past, hinting at feral world ancestry – and it was alive with more than just lice. Their hard little bodies flaked away as he moved, adrift in the vacuum.

 

'First Among Equals,' he growled, burbling through a mouthful of froth and venom. His voice had the oversalivated quality of barbarians on the verge of narcotic rage. 'Its scars tell an unimpressive tale, no?'

 

Gaius let a sigh transmit through the vox. 'You bore me, Vaulk.'

 

He heard the vox-sounds of someone spitting inside their helm.

 

They saw another ally's arrival, watching through laser scarring in the First's hull. A sudden gush of unlight in the void heralded a strike cruiser's emergent birth into reality. Gaius looked away, sparing his eyes the sick yellow illumination. He was one of those rare few not yet swayed by the Fist's god of crows and carrion.

 

'They may raise their weapons,' came another voice through the vox – one Gaius would not even dream of sighing at. 'Do nothing.'

 

They inclined their heads to show they understood, expecting no explanation, but getting one anyway. 'It is important we are not seen to be posturing. That is Malarius' message to the other crows: We are impassive. We are stone.'

 

'Understood, lord.'

 

They all knew that this was itself a form of posturing, but their master – still enthroned on The Chalice of Scorn, smiling that terrible smile at what his pict feeds showed him – was a creature of unguessable whims. Terminator Armour moved in front of them, cloven feet mag-gripping the decking beneath.

 

Markai was the indisputable fist of the Fist. His voice had the grimacing quality of someone under physical stress. Some hidden biological process within that armour generated diesel-stinking gasses – each movement was punctuated with an almost hydraulic squeal of exhaust.

 

'Hound, Latecomer – both of you will behave.' He half-turned, pointing a tusked warhelm in their direction. 'Embarrass us, and I will kill you.'

 

'We obey.'

 

'Ssss-sss-sss-sss.'

 

V: The Purgation of Gardatha

 

THEY WERE NEARING the bridge. He knew because the ship’s layout was familiar. She was old. Very old. The dust of death and ages lay heavy on her exposed bones and the brittle skeletons of long-dead crew members lay slumped against the walls and bulkheads.

 

Kalte Ghul felt the tug of something approaching a cold smile. When the summons had come through, he had scarcely thought it possible. Now, though. Now he was moments away from regaining what should never have been lost.

 

Unity.

 

The ones who had summoned him had once been his brothers in arms during the days of the False Crusade, when the Legion had stood together, fought together. Died together. He remembered them with clarity. They had been murderers and thieves to a man. True Nostraman blood.

 

Kalte Ghul had remained true to those times, ages past. True to the ideals of the Legion. His warband, such as they were, worshipped no falsehood, nor the ghosts that dwelled beyond the veil of the mortal realm. Soon they would be joined with warriors with whom they had kinship. Soon, an abundance of power would be within his grasp. They would crush this sector beneath their heels.

 

He was no fool, though. His Thanatorian Guard flanked him, Zloi, Vedar and Mordecai. He had won their loyalty, earned it, when he had liberated them from their previous master.

 

They would not fail him.

 

They skulked alongside him like spectres, clad in ancient suits of artificered armour. Their left vambraces were wrought with elaborate representations of the Legion’s skull and wings. Concealed within were their weapons of honour – serrated stabbing blades that sprang from the fanged maws of the jewelled skulls. These were connected to their armour plate by deceptively slender lengths of unbreakable chain. To draw the enemy close for the kill. To see their empty, curved-glass eyes in death. That was honour. They were masters of their craft, too, the three of them. Their armour was inscribed with names, dates, battlefields and pictograms of their kills. Perhaps it appeared ostentatious. Ghul didn’t think so. His own armour was adorned the same way. Proof of his deeds, of every drop of blood he had spilt in the name of his primarch. His one-time brothers would see his successes and they would see that he upheld the Legion’s creed. He wore the crested, ceremonial helm that very rarely saw use even in the days of the Crusade and a tattered crimson cape that clasped across his chestplate. He bore his weapons of choice, the lightning claws that he had used on the barren wasteland of Gardatha so many years ago. The same lightning claws he had buried knuckle-deep in his predecessor’s chest in order to gain his rightful place.

 

The open doors to the bridge yawned before them, dim starlight filling the room beyond. Their hosts were wreathed in shadow.

 

Kalte Ghul smiled, baring filed teeth.

 

‘It is time to rejoin our brothers.’

 

VI: The Aphotican Oath

 

THE EYELESS LORD watched them gather, their armour bedecked in trappings of ancient treachery and fresher glory. Not one of them could be called Brother without a false smile making the word a lie. Without brotherhood there could be no trust, and without trust there would be no respite from the risk of betrayal.

 

But they were kindred, of a kind. Unified in hate, if nothing else.

 

For hours now, he’d listened to reports from his warships in orbit around the drifting hulk. The cruiser, once named Tides of Ice, had belonged to the Wolves of Fenris for six thousand years until its recent theft from their clawed clutches. With a rare smile, the eyeless lord had renamed his prize Draugun at the start of its second life – a hex word from ancient Fenrisian mythology, given to the Dead-That-Walk.

 

His flagship, the battleship beat of Persephone, cut a much grander figure. She’d once borne the trappings of the Eighth Legion, in the age when such allegiances had relevance worth fighting and dying for. Now, it bore the gold God-runes on black, and she was no more a Night Lord than any of the warriors she carried through the void.

 

Runic symbols spilled across his helm’s eye lenses, going unseen by the sightless lord. He saw with other senses, feeling his kindred’s arrival as smears of life drifting closer, the way a spider senses a cobweb’s threads shiver at the touch of prey. Swearing the Aphotican Oath had cost him his eyes, but the Shrieking Choirs had rewarded him for his faith. From mortal blindness comes immortal vision. In the sightless hours of night, one finds truth. So it was written in the Lexicon Obfuscatia, and nothing in the long centuries had given the eyeless lord the desire to doubt it.

 

One of them stood by the corpse-captain’s throne: a flushed, pulsing presence – the sound of a heart beating molten blood, and the scent of scorched steel. That was Sar-Killiath, named Lord of Skulls by his ever-thirsting brethren.

 

And there: the whispers of spirits clinging to cold bone and colder ceramite; the slicing sound of blades parting flesh to rattle across the bone beneath – that was Kalte Ghul of the Eighth Legion. The eyeless lord could almost see the other warrior wearing a liar’s smile. He remembered that hesitant smirk all too well, from the days he’d stood in midnight clad, wearing the Eighth Legion’s armour himself.

 

And there: the scent of the dry dead, of bodies wrapped in ancient linen and laid to rest in forgotten tombs; coupled with the taste of graveworms on the tongue. That could only be Markai, the wretch sworn to He Who Fathers Flies.

 

There: the feel of cold iron against the skin; the raging roar of a hundred forge fires –all clashing with the powdery scents of fyceline, alchemical oils, and gunsmoke. The Iron Warrior, then. Lord Ahmandar. It could be no other.

 

Last of all, he felt the vertigo of standing above a great abyss; heard the breathy thunder of swollen lungs at work in the shadows; and sensed a chill too severe for even ghosts to linger near. Megaeron’s coterie, without a moment’s doubt.

 

The eyeless lord stepped forward at last, flanked in turn by his own closest brothers. Garad of Terra; Forge Lord and Machinespeaker – Commander of the Iron Host. Volus Coronal, Overseer of the Bloodline – once Chief Apothecary, now divine purifier. One maintained the brotherhood’s armoury, the other maintained the purity of its bloodline – iron and flesh in the very finest care.

 

Both were as blind as the lord himself. They, too, had sworn the Aphotican Oath.

 

God-runes itched and burned as he drew breath to speak. He felt them ache across his skin, just as he felt them glow with sick heat on the surface of his armour.

 

‘I wear the colours of the Fraternitas Noctum,’ he addressed the gathered living and slumbering dead alike, ‘known in the mongrel-tongue by the fool’s term, Brotherhood of Darkness.’

 

He paused, clicking his filed teeth together in something resembling a grin. Treachery had its temptations. A single word would bring the Blind Ones to his side, and the balance of power would be deliciously ruptured with the sudden teleportation arrival of fifty Oath-warriors in relic Terminator war plate. With a word, he could extinguish the lives of every single warlord present – and the Blind Ones forever hungered for new trophies.

 

Ah, but the cost. Such glory wasn’t worth dying for. Rakash Vel was no fool, praying to a two-headed eagle for the dubious honour of dying a martyr’s death. Such delusion was for those still shackled in spirit to the Throne of Gold.

 

‘I am Rakash Vel, known to some of you, unknown to others. Once of the Eighth Legion, and still sworn to it, depending on whom you choose to believe. Welcome to the Thracian Caul, brothers. We have much to discuss before the night’s ceasefire ends.’

[Legio Draconis]

:lol: I want, nay demand a complete novel with these characters.

[Dosjetka]

I want, nay demand a complete novel with these characters.

Good luck with getting that :lol:

 

Ludovic

[Molloch]

Bloomin' awesome words!

 

Looking forward to reading more/seeing models mate :tu:

[Doghouse]

Very, very cool.

 

Having read that I am now deeply jealous of all those participating in this campaign as it is getting off to an excellent start. I think you've set the scene perfectly with this introduction (although I am biased in that I'm a big fan of your interpretation of traitor marines) and am interested to how you approach the Imperials in all this.

[firestorm40k]

While I thank you for the parenthood advice, I curse you for mentioning the hobby hindrance.

You're welcome :lol: and actually, you may find the first 6-9 months to be not so bad - it's when she starts crawling, and wanting to take an interest in the various paint pots, brushes, and little plastic men on your desk, that it gets a little complicated ;)

 

Enjoyed reading the background, too :)

[Khestra the Unbeheld]

I die a little inside every time I have to come to terms with the fact that I'm not playing in this. The drinking does help. . .sometimes. . . :(

[popkhorne]

awesome.Seriously have you ever thought about writing an original/non-BL novel? Cuz man would I read it.