Campaign: "Hollow Promises"

[Mr. Germany]

Hi thar!

 

Because, as it happens to be so often, there is always people around that have played, want to play or still play WH40k, a handful of buddies and I decided to start up a campaign. We are going to have 3 people who know what's what and have played before and 3 people who haven't touched WH40k ever in their life - which is going to be interesting. Our efforts and preparations are consolidated in a Facebook Group, but as I like to document things in a more public manner, I decided to leave the lurking behind and write down here what's going on. :P

 

++++ Index:

 

1. Deep Space Prospecting

2. Blood in the Water

3. The Warp is stirring

 

++ End of Index. //

__________________________________________________________

 

++++ Resources:

 

1. Star System Map

 

++ End of Resources. //

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1. Deep Space Prospecting

 

++++ Beginning of transmission

++++ Transmitted: 98%, distortion normalized

++++ Received: 96%, missing elements normalized

++++ Destination: Terran Archives for Deep Space Exploration

++++ Temporal Reference: M40.961.19.05 - 1211

++++ Telepathic Duct: Mobilar Secundus/Exploratus Meravus

++++ Sidereal/Ref/Ordinator: 43-5/c55-178/Astropath Lisson

++++ Transcriptor: Autosavant Penitent -29F//Cyrrin [active]

++++ Warning: Eta/My pattern classification in effect

 

Prospecting Report

Unit: rclmr T137cc, Prospector Secundus Niam Vrendt

 

Thought for the Day: "Give in to doubt and lose everything."

 

We arrived after three months of Warp travel in the Keox'tyr system //cross reference: System Theta-559b// and fell in at the planned pirate jump point above the solar median. Deviation was low, albeit the link to His Glory and light is weak and distorted out here. Navigator Perran informed the Captain that the Warp is draining his energy faster than expected and advised a reduction of the mission time by three months. The Captain declined the request, adhereing to the mission parameter preset by the higher-ups. We continued our subwarp travel system-inwards without further ado. Our escorts remained in Shield pattern and long range scans did not pick up any signals of other presences.

 

Astropath Hrothgar reported a distortion in the Aether, pointing vaguely towards the planets in front of our bow. Commencing downwards, we approached the first planet, which is nothing but a gas giant. Initial scans revealed a lot of Argon and Helium //cross-reference: Adeptus Mechanicus, atmospherical harvesting// but no solid surface for a planet fell investigation. The first solid planet, Keox'tyr V, is completely frozen, with ice so thick, our scanners did not pierce it to identify any sort of metals. Needless to say, at a temperature of 75 Kelvin, lifeforms were not found.

 

Pressing onwards, we passed over Keox'tyr IV, and it's moon Laimos, instantly named after the last Captain of our Explorator ship //cross-reference: Battle of Varden, classified records, Inquisitorial Seal Rho Rho Iota//, but got similar result to Keox'tyr V - ice everywhere. Any deeper investigation would have had to be done via ground party. Fortunately, Keox'tyr IV has a mean surface temperature of 200 Kelvin, and is thusly deemed "acceptable" for Imperial Guard troops to be deployed, should this become necessary. The lack of resources and landmarks of interest leads me to believe that we will not bother looking deeper into it, though. Another ice world.

 

As we closed in on Keox'tyr III, Astropath Hrothgar became more and more irrate. Eventually, Captain Raimen ordered him shackled and incarcerated for interrogation to verify whether he has been tainted //cross-reference: Interrogation Protocol & Execution, Inquisitorial Seal Rho Gamma Beta//. Two moons orbit around the planet, named after Captain Raimen and Inquisitor //reference deleted// - MX-491uv. Our more stable psykers confirmed that Keox'tyr III is emitting unsettling psychic background radiation and shows traces of ancient structures and settlements. A broad bandwidth scan also revealed that the planet is, despite it's astronomical behavior, too low in mass, leading some analysists to believe that the planet might have substantial hollow caverns under the surface.

 

As our psykers all began to show signs of unrest, Captain Raimen ordered the scans to be finished at the double and ordered the fleet-group about-turn. With subwarp engines flaring, we abandoned the mission early and return to forward prospecting base Gamma-Centurion 37 in the May'ang system. May the Emperor forgive us our cowardice and the Navy be merciful, for we preserved their resources in face of an unknown danger. Regardless, yet, the system Keox'tyr has more secrets, but it takes bigger forces and more resolve to pierce the veil.

 

Written in faith,

Prospector Secundus Niam Vrendt

 

++++ Access limited under Rohinna Protocol, Subsection Delta.

++++ Document under Inquisitorial Investigation. Ordo Hereticus.

++++ End of Transmission

 

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2. Blood in the Water

 

With heavy steps of metal resounding from the darkened surface of the bridge, Khern crossed the distance between his seat and the comm array. His helmet, adorned with the skull bone of the former Chapter Master, hit his armor in rhythm with his march, like the beginning of a war drum, whispering tales of blood and swift retribution for the enemies of mankind into his mind. His hand on the shoulder of the mere mortal, a young woman of only thirty years, he spoke, his voice a whisper that cut through silence like a monofilament blade through sinew.

 

"When do we leave the Immaterium."

 

His question fell so flat in its articulation, it was more of a statement. The woman arched her head back, looking into the dark eyes of the pale man, towering over her. Her face was stern, the expression filled with a sense of duty. Khern wouldn't have it any other way, and she knew that very well. The honor of being pilot of the Nicor was beyond what she could have imagine her life turn out to be - just a decade ago, she was living a life a lot more simple. A border planet, barely colonized, struck by a Dark Eldar raiding force ... struck by the Carcharodons. After the deviants were wiped out and routed, the Space Marines left the settlers to their own devices. But every service comes at a price. Many of the able-bodied, stronger people of her homeworld were conscripted to replace losses of the prowling fleet.

"ETA in T minus 30 seconds, Chapter Master. Void Shield banks are fully charged, Gellar-Field is stable, all systems nominal. The gunservitors have been signaled to have all stations manned. The fleet will leave in Shell pattern, ready for combat. The Emperor guides our path."

 

A silent nod, and Khern turned around. There was no need for idle chat, no need for empty phrases. His ceramite plated feet sent vibrations through the bridge's deck, a familiar sound and almost calming preence of power for the entire crew, consisting of men and women of manifold origin. They all saw the light of the true Emperor, and Khern made sure everyone was aware of that. The glooming aura of the leader of the endless crusade of the Carcharodons assured an unwavering sense of duty in his crew. Khern understood the need of lesser beings, to keep his veterans mobile, equipped and deadly, to smite the enemies of humanity. He had no mercy in his heart, no compassion - but he knew of respect, duty and necessities. He stared out into the ever-changing void of the warp, his mind affixed on the battles to come. There would be battles. His astropaths were wailing as they picked up on the sudden chatter, all on the same topic. One of them described it as a explosive eruption in the Aether, like an endless headache due being poked over and over again in both temples. And when he heard that the Adeptus Mechanicus was assembling a major reclaimer force, he made is choice. He muttered, almost softly.

"And so it begins."

 

With a scream that could not be heard but felt, the Nicor pierced the bridge between Warp and Realspace, like a foreign organism spat out, and for a split second, dimensions stopped making sense, as the Gellar-Field collapsed around them. Then, with the common feeling of motion sickness the space became normal again. Normal was a strange word, considering how long the journey was. Khern sat in his command chair for weeks now, looking out the massive panorama window, as if he was trying to stare down the Warp itself. Hatred was burning in his chest, and the last battle had been too long ago. Now he was looking at stars in seemingly insurmountable distance. With a deep humm, the realspace engines came to life, and the ship began to turn downwards. The solar system showed itself in front of him, creeping into view, and with it, the rest of his fleet. To his left, he saw the cruiser group of the Relentless Jaw, Dooming Fin and the Emperor's Wrath. To his right, the transport group, shielded by a dozen destroyers, assumed formation. A silent dance, beauty in execution, cold precision.

 

"Report."

 

His word crept out of his throat and sounded almost mechanical. Nevertheless, every station burst into activity, as comm operators received and requested information from the fleet, drew ships on the holographical 3D map in front of him, while more and more ships left the Warp and found their places in the well-known and trained composition of his nomadic battle group. A few ships were missing, and Khern was not concerned. They would fall out of the Warp shortly - delays were inevitable, with the unpredictability of the Warp. All his major assets with all their firepower and the capital ships were here, and fully operational. He rose from his seat, grabbing his helmet. With a eerie moment of reminiscence, he ran his fingers over the polished bone. Another name on the battle roll, no need for nostalgia. He was long avenged. But, still, Khern felt calming anger, like a comfortable blanket. He cherished his wrath. His ferocity was a child of a controlled state of constant burn. Then one of his naval coordinators interrupted his introvision.

 

"Chapter Master. The Prowling Hunter is fall out of the Warp without their Gellar-Field intact. On screen now. Isolating and jamming all signals from and to the ship as per directive."

 

A single look on the display to his right showed him all he needed to see. The frigate tumbled out of the Warp, wrapped in tendrils in dirty, shifting purple, and a glistening light from its center ripped through the darkness of the space around them. In a silent explosion, the ship was ripped apart, and Khern stared at the light, the wreck and his facial expression did not move. A ship lost, claimed by the ruinous powers. This was not the first time, and it would not be the last time. His entire fleet consisted of millenia old ships, boarded and aquired new ships, and needed extensive repairs that were hard to fulfill with the constant movement of the fleet and a lack of a space-dock. It was bound to happen. Fear begets doubt. Doubt begets heresy. Heresy begets retribution. He would not be discouraged.

 

"Write their names on the battle roll of the fallen. Let the quarter masters know and compile a recruiting list. Inform the naval staff that we need another frigate and make it a Delta priority for acclaimation. Press onwards towards the target as planned. The Emperor protects."

 

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I will expand on this as the campaign goes along.

Commentary, suggestions, ideas, and so on are welcome. :)

 

Cheers,

[Mr. Germany]

3. The Warp is stirring.

 

The everwinding, everchanging sea of souls was in turmoil. Not that it was ever entirely still, but this time, the ripples were more eratic, more severe. The amplitude of the waves in the maelstrom veiled former stable paths and opened new ways through the boiling, incorporeal mass of madness and immaterium, as if something that woke up to a bad morning. The Ruinous Powers harbored many secrets, and their endless schemes and machinations served the purpose of keeping the things hidden that would aid the pesky lifeforms of the material world from gaining access to anything giving them an edge. Unfortunately for the daemons, something like luck and fate still found a way, keeping the ever-shifting struggle in an unstable balance. Where Humanity always was on the defense against the influence of Chaos, and the Chaos always prowled on its prey of souls, for every uprising there was a smiting, for every relict desecrated, there was a new one anointed.

 

This time, the ripples of the Warp were jealous. One secret of old that took millenia to hide away and keep from the untainted's reach was about to fall into the hands of those that could use it the most. With primal anger, ancient evils stirred, sending visions to sorcerers, blessing champions of the destructive cause with brainwaves, and damned entities seeked breaches between the realm of abberations and the realspace. While it may not be able to stop the discoveries, it - the undefined conglomeration of depravity named Chaos Undivided - would do its worst to throw its hatred and loathing at the flickering light of sanity. And there was still more - more than its corrupted agents. Tapping into old contracts of magnitudes far exceeding a mere mortal's comprehension, strands of fate were plucked und pulled, forces invoked and troops of abominations readied.

 

But, as if bound by laws that were enforced on everything on a grander scale than honor, the fallibility of man would be the crux of all endeavours. Even with their vast powers, the gods of chaos were limited in their reach - only if mortals upheld their vows and fealty to them, only if sacrifices would be made, the rifts between here and the netherworld would open and the destructie force of daemonkin could pour into manifestation to alter the course of events. Upset and angry, the Warp lashed out and sent tremors through its amalgamous ocean, clouding the path to the star system Keox'tyr. A finding navigator would be able to steer through it, but would the Gellar shields of lesser ships be able to stem the tide?

 

A figment of foresight sparked within the waves, like a vile maiden of the lake, emerging from under the vortex of emotions and hatred. It stretched, took its first breath and opened its metaphoric eyes, to seek a vessel worthy of its message. With a stern realization of a living fantasy, a glimmer of a possible future, the vision starred into the stormy pond, sending out tendrils to find such a person. And it wasn't long until it heard a call it would heed - a sorcerer, aspiring but still powerful enough to receive and survive the mental onslaught of the depeche from the nowhere and everywhere of the Immaterium. Piercing the flow, the vision sped through the aether and hit home.

 

"Listen to this, mortal. Listen to my call. See what can be, and understand. This is your mission, and your only mission. Your gods demand it done, and they demand punishment for those willing to fight our will."

Meditating on his starship, prowling through the Warp like a hungry predator searching for a feast, the sorcerer was hit as if a mighty bolter round had impacted with his chest. His blue and golden armor buckled, groaned, as his superhuman muscles clenched. Servomotors tried to assist the cramps, whining, unable to comply due to limits of the joints. Curled up in a ball, the psyker in the colours of the Thousand Sons keeled over and rolled on the floor of his chamber, crashing ceremonial candles under his stature. The robes he wore, stitched with intricate patterns of runes and invocations, caught fire. The flames, not of this world, licked his figure with emerald fire, burnt his pale complexion and ate away at his flesh until he found the composure to extinguish them with his thoughts.

 

Shivering and exhausted - a rare feeling for the augmented traitor marine - he got on his feet. With shaking lips, he gasped for air. The foul and stale gasmix that travelled into his lungs did little to give him the relaxation he craved, but his organs already worked towards stabilising the warrior-casters metabolism. With his fingernails digging into his scalp, his eyes opened. The pupils were out of focus, seeing something that wasn't physical - or even part of his timeline. The vision found her vessel and incubated its full potential in split-seconds, showing him what was to come.

 

A ruin on a far planet, hidden under rubble of multitudes of centuries. A grey, ashen planet, littered with the remains of a fragment of humanity long lost and forgotten. Starchilds, born of the burning skies of colonization started before long time ago, achivements covered in the dust of a war that left the planet bereft of life and their remnants were the only guardians of the place. Regardless, there was something, blurred by the uncertainity of the future and the age of the past, that meant ... a problem. The artifact or relic, the machinery or shrine, the wisdom or book, whatever it was, was a pulsating light, shunning away the darkness. And instinctively, the anger in the psyker grew - if it was a weapon for the forces of brightness, it was a nemesis to his lords. And if was wisdom, it had to be acquired, tainted, and turned.

 

With staggering steps, he left his chamber and struggled, still shaken by the vision, towards the bridge of the ship. Finally, again, a duty to fulfill.