The Orion Crusade- Forgotton and Forsaken

[ScottishSmurf96]

Hey, I have always took interest in the literature and story side of 40k... so here is mine! I'm guessing you shouldn't post models here but they go with the narrative part for some characters.

 

+++TO+++ ----> High Marshall Helbrecht

+++FROM+++ ----> Marshall Thomias Thain , Orion VII

+++TRANSMITED+++ ----> via Adept Primus Septimus, 20034002.m41

+++THOUGHT+++ ----> Accept any challenge, no matter the odds.

 

“My Lord,

My Brothers and I have been struck with misfortune and have been deceived. We came to the planet intending to quell a local rebellion in the interest of protecting a small scale keep. The roots of their heresy run deeper than we knew, we arrived expecting minimal resistance but to our horror the world had been garrisoned by the loathsome iron warriors. Our fleet was devastated and destroyed. Not before all 200 brothers of the campaign made planet fall. We have led a ground campaign for the past 2 years but I am afraid this is the only opportunity for an astropathic message we have had. Out of the 200 brothers that started only 60 of us remain, we have had to fight in a number of guerrilla actions and have met up with what remains of the loyal PDF. Send us aid my Lord we don’t know how much longer we can hold!... What?! How did they find us? … Knights prepare for battle…. My Lord they must be stopped at all costs…”

 

+++TRANSMISSION TERMINATED+++

 

An example of one of the many skirmishes

 

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Tank commander Renard

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Renard smiled cruelly to himself as the heretics convoy trundled slowly down the road. ‘The fools’ he thought as they drove closer to where his Vindicator “Ominous” lay well hidden. The land raider grew closer. It was nearly time. The land raider drew level. Now he would dish out his fury. “FIRE” he screamed to his crew and the mighty Demolisher cannon opened up and tore a huge rent in the armoured behemoth. First blood was his.

 

Brother Angar one eye

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Angar watched the convoy below with contempt; from his position in the tall building he saw all. He waited for the signal, checking his auspex. For the first of the great foe to die. With an almighty BOOM the lead vehicle was engulfed in roaring flames. That was the signal. Now it was his turn. He aimed at one of the rhinos towards the back of the formation and fired with a dull ‘thunk’ and ‘swoosh’ the krak missile streaked towards the APC and wrecked it. He laughed to himself and wished the rest of his brother’s good hunting.

 

Marshall Thomias

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Thomias watched as two of the transports were reduced to little more than burning wrecks. Despite the damage heretic marines still poured out. With hate deeper and more potent than any other emotion he possessed Thomias shouted as her charged, his command squad not far behind, “By Dorn, Sigismund and the Emperor I will see you dead spawn of Peturabo!” Thomias Headed towards the Chaos Dread activating his hammer and shield. The dreads plasma cannon fired and the shot was deflected by his shield. Thomias swung his hammer round and it connected with the knee joint. With an almighty crash and a blinding flash of light.

 

Command squad "Holy Wrath"

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The Templar’s of “Holy Wrath” charged as one at the survivors of the rhino wreckage. Brother Pellanor broke ranks and charged at the last rhino, his powerfist raised. He was followed by the Apocathery Cadous and the banner bearer Lomar. They surged forwards, with an expert aim and holding the crusade banner high Lomar dispatched the first heretics that disgorged the final rhino. Cadous revved his chain sword despite being skilled at preserving life he was equally at home with taking it, he cut through the Iron Warriors with a skill born from legends. Pellanor hammered his fist into the driver’s compartment of the rhino instantly killing the crew. He laughed mockingly before he turned and ran towards the Marshall who was standing over an immobilised dread. Brother Galan blocked another frenzied blow with his combat shield followed up by a swift and flourished counter which killed the traitor, in the art of wielding a blade he was almost unmatched. With a life time of practise and natural talent he continued to kill. Brother Ashor held his bolter in a sturdy one handed grip. He poured continuous fire into the ranks of the arch enemy as he shouted reads litanies of hate from an ancient tome that had once belonged to the crusades Chaplain, he was long dead and Ashor carried the book in respect of his fallen brother.

 

Emperor's champion Hadrianus

 

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Emperor’s champion Hadrianus’ blood boiled with rage and shame as the convoy approached. He silently cursed the Iron Warriors and cursed Marshall Thomais, for they had both contributed to the loss of the black sword. Entrusted to him after a vision from the Emperor, he had told the crusades’ chaplain. Granted the greatest honour a Black Templar can receive. He was proudly being fitted into the armour of faith when the ambush was sprung. He remembered how the corridors of the venerable battle barge shook. Bathed in the red light that meant combat stations he ran. His hearts pounding in anticipation and fear of not reaching it in time. Hadrianus was slammed into a bulkhead as anther violent explosion tore through the ships hull. Hadrianus staggered forward. Through his hazed vision he saw a shadow that grasped him firmly round his waist and began to pull him towards the drop pod bays. ‘No… I must… I MUST RETREIVE IT!’ He cried before he began to thrash in the blurs grip. A calm voice, laden with authority and clarity, spoke to him ‘The ship is lost brother! We must leav…’

‘NO!’ Hadrianus shouted in an outrage. Struggling in the vice like grip. ‘I must… I cannot… brother you can’t d…’

‘The entire lower decks are a lost. Hadrianus stop. Get into the drop po…’

‘No Thomias! I have to get it, I will not leave it!’ He flexed his muscles, his disorientation wearing off, trying to break the Marshalls hold.

‘Angar. Help me’ the two marines forced their champion into the pods restraint harness. As the drop pod streamed out of the dying ship Hadrianus screamed oaths of hate and asked the Emperor to forgive his failure. He would never forget the stain on his honour and he would strive to wash it away with his death.

 

 

Warsmith Jericho looked upon the wreckage of the once proud battle barge and smiled. He turned and looked at his entourage of twenty five Skitarii as they clunked to a halt, each one a fine specimen of the Dark Mechanicum’s talent. At his side stood a loathsome figure whose name he did not know, its flesh had a grey pallor every inch of its tormented body scarred from imprisonment in the warp. When Jericho had found… it… he had forged it a new purpose. His purpose. The mutant was his spy, his bodyguard, his assassin.

 

The Warsmith walked closer to a section of the crash, his armours internal auspex had picked up life signs an hour ago, and as he walked his armour clicked and whined failing to hide that under his extensively modified terminator plate he was more machine than flesh. Jericho smiled with cruel humour that barely concealed his hate, his demon axe yearned the blood of the puppets of the corpse Gods blood. Three figures were pulling themselves out of what remained of the Reclusium.

 

 

Chaplain Farendir stumbled from what remained of the ships Reclusium. With his injured leg close to buckling he sat on a pile of scrap as two more Templars emerged. Brother Lewis, a recently elevated innitiate, and Sword Brethren Giaus. The two men walked over to where Ferendir sat before checking the wargear for damage. Lewis was armed with his bolt pistol and power sword and made sure they were free from damage; Giaus did the same with his twin lightning claws and then asked Lewis to check his cyclone missile launcher that was attached to his relic terminator plate. Farendir checked his own gear. His armour, an ornate suit of artificer plate was mostly intact with the exception of the huge rent in his left thigh. He then checked his weapons in his left hand he held a beautifully crafted maul; the eagle headed top was a symbol of his office, it was his crozious. In his right hand he held a sword. Forged with such perfection that it could pierce the armour and flesh of any foe. It was the black sword. The only relic he could salvage from the doomed ship. As the sun rose he saw a host of vaguely man shaped objects. With his enhanced sight he picked out the gun metal grey of the lead figures armour. This was the Iron Warrior leader. This was his kill to claim.

 

Jericho watched as his Skitarii marched closer to the black clad figures and uttered a command into his vox. The Skitarii let out a savage burst of their binary language. The charged madly. A volley of plasma bolts and solid slugs were launched at the Templars but in their haste the machine warrior’s shots flew far above the intended targets. The Skitarii continued to screech as they each drew an assortment of close combat weapons.

 

Ferendir, with a brother either side of him, began to calmly walk towards the screaming abominations, Ferindir sporting a limp. Each a bastard by blow of heretic hands. None of the usual oaths or cries were shouted. The silent determination of the Templars was colder and more terrifying than any war cry or any savage taunt. The trio stopped and Gaius planted his feet firmly before letting loose a salvo from his cyclone launcher. Shaped frag missiles were propelled into the enemy ranks devastating the front ranks of the charging mass. Most stumbled to their feet, the extensive modifications to their bodies had protected them. As the rabble drew closer the trio activated their power weapons in unison. Still in cold determined silence.

 

The Skitarii clashed with the Templars in a flash of blades, Brother Giaus powered through the machine warriors shredding bodies with simple flicks of his wrist. Lewis strode forward with the natural arrogance of someone who new the craft of death. He parried a clumsy blow before impaling his foe on his blade and ending the jittering praetorian’s life with a clean headshot; he then pivoted and dismembered another foe. Farendir surged forward despite his injured leg; he ploughed through the Skitarii with terrifying skill. In his left hand he wielded fury and in his right he carried finesse. These two combined made him an unstoppable force that left only destruction in its wake.

 

The Skitarii were at first on the back foot, surprised by the black clad marines change in temperament. Soon enough they began to adapt to the violent style and not too long after they claimed one for their own. Lewis roared in pain as his left arm was torn from its socket, despite such a grievous wound he continued to hack at the offending machine in an adrenaline fuelled rage and it was reduced to slag and bloody ribbons. With his energy spent he crumpled to the floor like a marionette with its strings cut.

Giaus roared in anger and charged towards the approaching Warsmith as the last mech warrior pinned Farendir to the floor.

 

Jericho broke into a run and fired his wrist mounted bolter; the explosive shells plunged into Giaus’ cyclone launcher. Detonating inside and hurling him to the ground. He capitalised on his advantage by bringing his axe down in a brutal blow that was made with the intention to kill. Giaus recovered much quicker than Jericho had anticipated, he rolled aside and avoided the axe which became lodged in the ground before he kicked the feet from under him. Jericho crashed to the ground and was instantly dived on by the Templar; Giaus was stabbing in fury making several deep wounds. Jericho laughed as two hidden servo arms slowly extended from his back. The first struck Giaus in the chest viper quick, knocking him back, before the second servo arm which ended in an incinerator set him ablaze. Farendir could here his brother’s scream. It unlocked an emotion he never felt. Desperation. The Skitarii pinning him leaked oil like blood onto his death mask as he writhed in its grip. He head butted the machine once then twice and on the third time its head snapped right back severing the connection that went from its brain to its CPU. Ferandir scrambled to his feet and charged at the Warsmith. Jericho turned to meet him.

 

C&C very welcome guys, Thanks

 

Tom