Rayven's feather, Reaver's dagger

[Aqui]

Some time ago, I started a story about one of my DIY Chapter's called "And we all fall down". Whilst I had intended to adjust it, and carry it on, I hadn't considered that the very background of my DIY would change to the point that the story would no longer make sense. Over time I decided that I would write a new story to reflect those changes, but add in (if applicable) pieces of the other story so that it isn't a total loss. This story would feature more than one of my DIY's and flesh them out.

I haven't abandoned the Rainbow Warrior's story, and I will get around to carrying that on, but for now my two main DIY's are going to (re)encounter each other. Sparks will fly, feathers will ruffle and other appropriate catchphrases

So, without further preamble.....

It was a vile place. A desolate landscape, flat for all but a few mounds that the pathetic locals called "mountains", which were anything but. It was the Monsoon season, and so everything was wet. It had been raining constantly for three months and did not show any sign of stopping. No ray of sunshine, no break in cloud cover. No respite from the harsh wind, not even a rainbow to cheer the planet up. Nothing. The hulking figure was obscured by shadow, which was an impressive feat considering it's size. Less than a few feet away, the natives ran past in all directions, anxious to get out of the cloudburst. The intense need to lash out gripped the figures' soul, but it was denied. It would not do to reveal himself yet. It was too early, and would jepardise everything. It was a big gamble as it was, and any reckless slaking of desire would not do. Too much was at stake.

The figure turned it's attention back to the Town square opposite. A crude attempt at capturing the Emperor in Alabaster stood looking rather out of place. It was new and badly constructed, but showed that the miserable denizens had devotion to that rotting corpse. Sneering to himself, the figure noticed that there were a few offerings of food, charms and other oddments. Clearly, this town and indeed, this planet seemed to have precious little to offer.

But it had, if the humans but knew.

Seeing enough, the figure slid further into the darkness, leaving no trace of it ever being there.



Planet Chobu, Segmentum Pacificus, XXX.M41

If planets were able to race, Chobu would be known as an "also ran". It had little to offer the Imperium in way of tribute, raw materials, troops. It counted for so little that when it was rediscovered, serious thought was given to upsticks and pass it by and leave it. Were it not for it being a convenient stop off point for Warp translations, no one would have noticed if it disappeared altogether. The locals, resigned to a simple, and very wet, existence, were dour and suspicious people. Off worlders were not encountered often, as they had very little need to touch down on the planet. Ships would retranslate into realspace, check co-ordinates and jump again. All the planet was, was a fixed point.

Iron Lord Hubros sighed heavily. Looking at the small orb from a view port aboard the Ferrus Cornus, he was anxious to be onward bound. Orbiting a nondescript world like this, when his warriors needed to be resupplied at the nearest Fabricator world still some two weeks away was not acceptable. The engines had developed a fault during Warp flight and, whilst minor needed to be repaired. Another day, the repair crews had told him, and they could be on their way. Iron Father Ehdisohn had taken the repair crews to task and was currently supervising the repairs himself. Looking at his left arm, a silver augmetic he had been gifted by the Omnissiah over a hundred years ago, he once again marveled at it's construction. He had come a long way, from his time as a young pilot on Petracco. His reflection in the view port showed his augmetic eye, replacing the one torn out by a Tyranid Brood Lord. It glowed brightly as he remembered shoving his Chainsword into the vile creatures throat, the gurgling sounds it tried to make as he turned it's head into pulp. Seeing enough of the world below, he turned to walk back to the command bridge. On his arrival, his adjutant, Sergeant DeCamp gave a status report.

"Repairs to compromised systems at 45%" Decamp stated tonelessly. His throat had been damaged by a Howling Banshee's sword stroke, necessitating a vox unit.

"Unacceptable. Increase staffing levels to have the work done by 05.00 hours," Hubros replied. "We have to be on our way as soon as possible. The Steel Liege requires our presence on Petracco so that we can resupply and assist our Cousinly Chapter, the Amber Dragons to dispel an uprising in the Bordello expanse. "

"Understood Iron Lord."

Satisfied that his orders would be carried out, Hubros turned to the command deck. It was resplendent in it's design, and despite it's relatively young age, a true treasure. The Steel Wings' primogenitor, the Iron Hands had themselves reconsecrated the vessel, formerly a ship of unknown ownership. It had been left to orbit a Mechanicus world, desolate, without purpose. Upon the Chapters Founding, it was reborn. A gift from one Chapter to another. Along the wall opposite, a mural etched in brass and silver showing the Primarch Ferrus Manus, leading his troops in battle. To the right at the further most edge it was finished with a simple phrase, a catechism.

Carnis est infirmus - The flesh is weak. The perpetual reminder. The one universal truth.

Muttering a prayer to the Primarch and the Immortal Emperor, Hubros set to work, reviewing crew rotations, and silently wishing that he could cast the stone below out into the infinite void.

Little did he know, that the stone would instead cast a pall over his Chapter and possibly lead it it's doom.

[Llagos_Tyrant]

I have to say that I love the introduction to the planet. I would have liked to have had more description of some of the characters, but I trust that this will all come in time.

 

My first thought with that shadowy figure was that it was a Tyranid but judging by its reaction to the statue of the Emperor, it seems more akin to a servant of Chaos. Judging by the last few lines I'd say it's a demon. Of Slaanesh perhaps?

 

All in all, I'm really looking forward to reading more from you. Keep it up.

[Aqui]

I have to say that I love the introduction to the planet. I would have liked to have had more description of some of the characters, but I trust that this will all come in time.

 

My first thought with that shadowy figure was that it was a Tyranid but judging by its reaction to the statue of the Emperor, it seems more akin to a servant of Chaos. Judging by the last few lines I'd say it's a demon. Of Slaanesh perhaps?

 

All in all, I'm really looking forward to reading more from you. Keep it up.

 

Thanks! ^_^

 

I have a tendency to either over or under describe situations and characters, and it's something I'm ever trying to improve upon.

I'll add more to the descriptions in the next bit ^_^

 

Regarding the shadowy figure, I won't reveal too much, but it's not a Daemon ;)

[Aqui]

Part 2

 

They think we are dead.

 

Rai Lurweiss, Lord of the Bahltimyr Reavers, stood alone at the face of the cave. It was currently being used as a base of operations, it's reputation with the locals for being haunted, ensuring privacy. Looking to the sky, he could see a glimpse of something that moved contrary to all of the other astral objects. It was more than likely to be them. Fate was a fickle mistress, so the old saying goes, having spent the better part of three centuries looking for the Chapter that left his for dead, and just when there was little hope of ever finding them, they bring themselves willingly. He had spent so much time searching, that he hadn't considered what he would do if he found them. A plan would present itself in due course. Mumbling a benediction to Tzeentch, he carried on looking to the heavens, knowing that another approached him. Not bothering to turn around, he addressed the individual.

 

"Status report?"

 

"We have managed to activate approximately 80 stasis pods Lord", the other answered, grudging respect warring with fear and loathing. "The others will take some time to deal with. The Warp translation that brought us here did significant damage to most of our equipment. It is being dealt with as quickly as possible as per your orders."

 

Lurweiss, pausing for a moment considered this.

 

"Even so, I want as many of our stricken brothers ready before tomorrow night. The quarry's ship has not yet left orbit. If we can entice them here....."

 

"We will surely be slaughtered", the subordinate muttered sardonically, hate pushing the words from his lips before he could censor them.

 

Turning, Lurweiss' sword was a hairs breadth from the others' neck.

 

"Do not test me, Angsar. I know you hate me, and that given the chance you would take command. But you will only do so over my rotting corpse. Nurgle will willing, probably not even then....."

 

Ansgar Hr'Boor gasped in amazement. Lurweiss was fast, but he had never seen any one, Marine or not, draw a sword that fast. Mentally cursing his own tongue, he fell silent, body language showing acquiescence.

 

"Better," Lurweiss said lowering his weapon. "You do yourself no credit. I'm surprised that you were fit to be a Chaplain, way back when. Perhaps I should choose another to be Ansgar now....."

 

"I know that much of what has befallen us was because we followed you in worship of the Pantheon," retorted Hr'Boor. The Dark Gods favour you. What use is either a Chaplain or Ansgar to interpret their words?"

 

"Hr'Boor. You have not truly embraced their will. You still cling to ideals that should have no meaning to us. Let it go Brother."

 

The last comment surprised Hr'boor. Lurweiss had not used that word to him since the turn to Chaos, centuries ago. Staring into dark eyes, Hr'Boor considered that he may have misjudged him after all.

 

"Embrace them. Take their aspects to heart. Khorne, the everlasting warrior. Slaanesh, the provider of your hearts' desires. Nurgle, the bane of all who deny mortality and Tzeentch, the plot weaver."

 

"And of the other God?"

 

Lurweiss' face frowned. "You know that he is not to be trusted."

 

"Yet, he is one of the Gods. The one the others fea...."

 

Lurweiss had punched Hr'Boor in the face before he could finish.

 

"Do not test the Gods' patience," he warned, "I tolerate your impudence because, despite your persistent challenges, I have faith in you. The Gods will not tolerate such insolence."

 

Pushing his nose back into some form of normalcy, Hr'boor nodded, "Noted".

 

"Now, go back and check on the others. And remember Brother. Allow the Gods to fill you. Let them in, and feel true peace."

 

Dismissed, Hr'Boor re entered the cave.

 

Inside, lamps, their light dull and their housings rusting, illuminated an area carved from Limestone and other porous rock by water over millennia, currently seeping in from the roof. Even to a Marine it was cavernous. Many other tunnels led off from it, but in the centre a vast bank of metal boxes, each with a small window were being attended to, by Dark Mechanicus and their erstwhile Marine equivalents. The humming of the generators would have been quite deafening had it not been for the suits ability to decrease sound volumes. Hr'Boor shuddered, not wanting to look at the boxes directly. A significant portion of the Chapter now resided within one of those boxes, and he had no wish to linger on why. Lurweiss was correct in a fashion. He did cling to some older ideals, but mainly because of what he has seen. And the fates of those being reawakened.

 

"Lord Lurweiss wishes the awakening to proceed faster."

 

A Dark Mechanicus turned to face him. Her was visage almost completely metallic. Wearing a gown of dark red, it covered most of her body.

 

"It will be done by the morrow," Her voice hissed softly, Hr'Boor being able to hear her despite the thrumming of the generators.

 

"Be sure that they are. The Lord is in no mood for failures. And neither am I".

 

The Dark Mechanicus bowed and turned back to her work. The boxes slowly came back to life, status lights energising, flashing, and internal lights inside illuminating contents.

 

On it's own in a corner of the cavern, a box, the first to be activated vibrated. Slowly at first, a hollow banging noise could be heard from within. Repeating slowly at first, gaining momentum and loudness.

 

Before stopping.

 

All activity stopped in the cavern. Even the generators seemed to be silenced.

 

A pause, a hearts beat later, and a screech, terrifying enough to freeze the blood of the Emperor himself shook the cavern walls.

 

Lurweiss, still at ground level, smilled.

 

It begins.

[Llagos_Tyrant]

A tolerant Chaos Lord? A Dark Apostle (or Ansgar) who thinks of the Emperor (it seems) as a God? A woman in the Dark Mechanicus?

 

Some interesting characters are raising their heads here.

 

If I may offer a pointer though, it is always better to show the reader something rather than to tell them something. Having Lurweiss tell Hr'Boor that he knows he would usurp him at any given moment is a bit blatant. Perhaps instead, Hr'Boor is stroking his pistol holster, subtly (and maybe unconsciously) pulling on the clip holding it shut-not enough to open it, but enough to put pressure on it, while Lurweiss has his back turned. Lurweiss, knowing that Hr'Boor is willing to betray him, tells him to take his hand off of his pistol, hardly bothering to turn around and face him while he does. Or he spins around with his sword like you have him already doing and tells him to leave it alone.

 

This tells the reader that Hr'Boor is considering betraying Lurweiss and that it is a great enough desire to consume his subconscious actions and movements. Lurweiss reaction is also telling in that in the former option, he has total disdain for Hr'Boor as a threat, or that his faith in the Dark Gods is all consuming and he believes they have something planned for him. The latter action instead, tells us that he is either paranoid, or that Hr'Boor has come either close or actually tried to usurp him and is a significant threat to Lurweiss.

 

Both of these possibilities shows more about their relationship, their personalities and it builds more tension in the scene and the story than simply saying "I know you would betray me if you could." It was hard for me to learn in my writing and I still slip up occasionally but it does a lot of good for your work. Hope it helps.

 

Anyways, I look forward to reading more.

[Aqui]

Thanks for posting ^_^

 

A tolerant Chaos Lord? A Dark Apostle (or Ansgar) who thinks of the Emperor (it seems) as a God? A woman in the Dark Mechanicus?

 

A Tolerant Chaos Lord with an agenda. I won't say more than that otherwise it will spoil the rest. Hr'Boor doesn't view the Emperor as a God

 

"And of the other God?"

 

Lurweiss' face frowned. "You know that he is not to be trusted."

 

"Yet, he is one of the Gods. The one the others fea...."

 

The God referred to here is NOT the Emperor ;)

 

As for the Lady Dark Mechanicus, I'd seen some cool artwork of Dark Mechanicus once, and one was a woman so I thought why not? ^_^

 

Some interesting characters are raising their heads here.

 

If I may offer a pointer though, it is always better to show the reader something rather than to tell them something. Having Lurweiss tell Hr'Boor that he knows he would usurp him at any given moment is a bit blatant. Perhaps instead, Hr'Boor is stroking his pistol holster, subtly (and maybe unconsciously) pulling on the clip holding it shut-not enough to open it, but enough to put pressure on it, while Lurweiss has his back turned. Lurweiss, knowing that Hr'Boor is willing to betray him, tells him to take his hand off of his pistol, hardly bothering to turn around and face him while he does. Or he spins around with his sword like you have him already doing and tells him to leave it alone.

 

This tells the reader that Hr'Boor is considering betraying Lurweiss and that it is a great enough desire to consume his subconscious actions and movements. Lurweiss reaction is also telling in that in the former option, he has total disdain for Hr'Boor as a threat, or that his faith in the Dark Gods is all consuming and he believes they have something planned for him. The latter action instead, tells us that he is either paranoid, or that Hr'Boor has come either close or actually tried to usurp him and is a significant threat to Lurweiss.

 

Both of these possibilities shows more about their relationship, their personalities and it builds more tension in the scene and the story than simply saying "I know you would betray me if you could." It was hard for me to learn in my writing and I still slip up occasionally but it does a lot of good for your work. Hope it helps.

 

Anyways, I look forward to reading more.

 

I can see your point, and I had considered doing it that way, but the reason why I made it so blatant will be made more clear eventually. Plus, I see the "relationship" between them as similar to G1 Starscream and Megatron. Megatron should get rid of Starscream, but he's good at his job, and Megatron sees Starscream as a way of making sure he never gets too complacent that he doesn't see an assassination attempt until it's too late ;)

 

Thanks again ^_^

[Aqui]

Part 3

 

The repairs were now three hours past the revised schedule. Iron Lord Hubros had been told that one of the Human crew members had overloaded one of the computation units in haste to get the repairs completed. The crewman in question was currently being subjected to remedial action in the detention block. Ehdisohn had taken pains to get the work completed on schedule regardless, but for naught. At his command post, still, after more than twenty four hours, he had reviewed all of the forthcoming mission data he had received 3 times already. Fighting back intense irritation, Hubros had turned instead to personally monitoring the activities of other vessels entering and exiting the system. That proved to be worthless as a distraction too.

 

Orbiting the small Planet was an automated relay satellite. It's singular objective was to receive and transmit co-ordinates necessary for Warp flight. Every ship that enters or leaves the system is logged, but the relay was antiquated, it's data transmission slow and prone to data corruption.

 

"Captain, the ident of that last ship to arrive." But Hubros had not needed to request the data, as the ships' Captain, nervous of making a mistake in front of the Iron Lord, had already forwarded it across.

 

Peering through the Ships' history, it seemed run of the mill, as had the last twenty ships. But scanning the pad, there was something not quite right about this one. There was large gaps in it's log, and a few minor discrepancies. Perhaps, he was letting inactivity get to him, he decided. Watching the ship on screen, it's flight path had deviated, by 10.2 degrees.

 

Now fixing his entire attention to it, Hubros called for it's entire flight log for the last Standard Year. The cogitator whined as it tried to comply. Mumbling a brief benediction to Ferrus Mannus and the Machine God, he inputted narrower search parameters.

 

Nothing. Hubros tried again, and again. Still, nothing. His one remaining eye narrowed. Pirates? An unlicensed Rogue Trader?

 

"Captain. Intercept course to that ship. Bring us along side."

 

On the screen, the ship had not reverted back to it's planned course. It seemed unthinkable that it's navigational systems are malfunctioning. Back ups would have activated, the Navigators aboard would have notified the command crew.

 

"We are on intercept course, Lord. ETA 3 minutes."

 

"Broadcast range?"

 

"Aye, Lord."

 

"Vessel 371-54/HB, the Troianorum Equum. You have deviated from your planned course. Power down engines and prepare to be boarded."

 

No response.

 

"I repeat, stand down."

 

"Lord, we are close enough that a standard vox unit would have been enough for them to receive. They are deliberately ignoring us."

 

"Indeed. Bring the forward weapons to bear. If they try to run, destroy their engines."

 

"It shall be done, Lord."

 

"I will be putting together a boarding party. Do not let that ship leave, under any circumstances."

 

 

 

"We are ready, Lord."

 

Standing to attention in Embarkation bay 7, twosquads of Marines and a Terminator squad waited for their Lord to give the signal to leave. Their grey armour, highlighted with red elbow and knee guards. Sergeant DeCamp had been given orders to assemble a small strike force, and was quick to comply. To one side, an Iron Father with a servitor stood patiently. Hubros was surprised to see it wasn't Ehdisohn.

 

"I had asked him," Decamp said knowing what Hubros was thinking, "But he was adamant that he should remain here to ensure our schedule was kept. Ruuterfjord will accompany us on his behalf."

 

Nodding to Ruuterfjord, Hubros addressed the assembled Marines.

 

"Brothers. We are going to board the vessel known as the Troianorum Equum, as she has deviated from her flightpath. There is a small possibility that she is stricken and needs our assistance, hence the presence of Brother Rutterfjord. But, be not lax in readiness. I anticipate a more sinister reason for her deviation, and will bring her and her crew to account. Stand at ready, unless I give the command."

 

A broadcast interrupted Hubros mid flow.

 

"Lord, the ship has finally come to full ahead stop," the ships' Captain stated apologetically. "I have brought the ship to bear on her engines. Still no response from any crew members aboard."

 

"Received."

 

Making the sign of the Aquila, the Marines made way to the Boarding tube.

 

 

Once launched, the tube hit the ship mid section on the Port side. Moments before impact, the proximity Klaxon sounded, accompanied after by an eldritch screeching of metal. Coming to a halt, the Boarding tubes sensors detected a breathable atmosphere, albeit very stale. Disembarking, the Terminator squads took point. The main lights were non functional, the ship seemingly on emergency power.

 

"Brother Ruuterfjord, I want an assessment of the ship's condition. Take a squad to assist you. Any contact with a member of the crew should be reported immediately."

 

"Understood, Lord."

 

 

Proceeding along a corridor, there was no contact with the crew. Senors showed no signs of life. Upon reaching a door, the room beyond was checked, but no signs of life. In fact, the contents of the room was covered in significant amounts of dust.

 

Undisturbed, untouched.

 

"I don't understand this," said DeCamp. "There must be a crew, otherwise the ship would not have made it in system. If there was a catastrophe, the crew would have returned to real space and activated their distress beacon."

 

"True," Hubros replied. "But we still have to reach the command deck. We should find the answers we seek there."

 

After an hour, and over thirty other rooms, it was obvious that most of the ship had had no human contact for many years. It wasn't unknown for large ships to be manned by small crews to cut down expenditure. But many of the rooms, such as the ships surgery, were in poor condition, leaving the Marines unwary.

 

"I don't like this," DeCamp stated for the fourth time. Impatience sometimes got the better of him, and it was one of the only reasons he had not been considered for command of his own Company.

 

"We shall find answers, Brother," reassured Hubros, trying to assuage DeCamp, but he knew what he meant. This ship should have had a team investigate the impact of the boarding tube. But there was a lot of things that didn't add up.

 

"How far are we from the command deck?" Hubros asked Terminator Sergeant Clypeus.

 

"Not far Lord, another two decks above. We should be there in twenty minutes."

 

"Brother Ruuterfjord, receive."

 

"I receive, Lord."

 

"Status?"

 

"No contact with crew members, living or deceased. I have arrived at the Engine deck. Some systems are in dire need of repair. I have checked the vox system, both internal and ship broadcast. Both are at nominal function. I am now analysing the flight cogitator. I have set parameters for the last 10 standard years."

 

"Notify me of anything the cogitator gives you."

 

"Aye, Lord."

 

"We proceed to the command deck. Ignore any other room. We have wasted enough time already."

 

 

 

The command deck was surprisingly small for a ship of it's size. A circular room, with a command chair in the centre. Consoles were arranged around it, the chair itself able to rotate to face any of them. The chair was facing away from the search party. Human remains littered the room, some at their stations, the stale air had to some degree preserving them from decay.

 

"We have counted eleven crew. Far too small a number to man a ship this size." DeCamp observed.

 

"Indeed. The obvious question is, where are the rest?"

 

"I have managed to bring up the command deck log. I will use the hol feed to broadcast it."

 

The room was filled with a dull light as the machine displayed routine images of the crew at work. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Until the last section. A crew man approached the figure in the command chair, unusually in shadow. A heated debate ensued, the crewman arguing with the other. Two other crew men are ordered to subdue him, but he pulls out a pistol, something that should not have happened. Crewmen are only authorised to be armed when the ship has been boarded. He does not get a chance to fire, as he is beaten to death.

 

"DeCamp. Observe the crewman who was attacked. What do you notice about his uniform?"

 

DeCamp, leaned forward to look closer. Despite enhanced sight, the images were of very poor quality. But he realised what Hubros was getting at.

 

"He's the Captain."

 

"Yes, it would seem the crewman in the chair started a mutiny. For what purpose, I wonder?"

 

"To attract your attention."

 

Hubros spun around towards the command chair. He had checked the corpse himself. Raising his bolter, he stepped forward towards it. The chair spun around, slowly.

 

"What foul trickery is this?!" Hubros hissed angrily. "Sorcery?!"

 

The figure made a sighing noise, an expelling of air. "The Imperium is indeed full of superstitious fools."

 

"Superstition is for fools! The Omnisiah and the God Emperor so teaches. Who are you? What is your purpose?"

 

"Who I am is of no importance and I have fulfilled my purpose. To bring you on board. You can not escape Imperial. This ship will be your end."

 

Ignoring the cadaver, Hubros instructed the others too evacuate.

 

"It's too late. The ship has started to accelerate. It will increase speed until the engines overload."

 

"Why? Who set you on this task?"

 

"I know not a name, save this: Remember Ghiberti!"

 

Hubros was shaken to his core. No! He thought. All of the cultists on that planet were annihilated! None could have escaped, as the Space port was pulverised. In the end the entire planet was subjected to Exterminatus. Reeling, he remembered that day. An entire Chapter lost, because of a communication error. Well, that was the official story. The reality was far different.

 

"Ghiberti, Imperial. It will haunt you once more!"

 

Hubros fired a bolt into the creatures temple, shattering it's vile skull. Turning to leave after his brothers, the name turned over and over in his mind.

 

Ghiberti.

 

Ghiberti!.

 

Impossible!

 

 

More to follow! :)

 

C+C welcome!

[Aqui]

Part 4:

 

"This is Hubros. All Marines to retreat back to the boarding tube. Repeat: Withdraw immediately!"

 

Hubros' mindded raced. It can't be coincidence! he thought. The disruption of the Ferrus Cornus' engines, and now this? Something orchestrated to bring them here. What? Pushing everything from his mind, his only objective, to get everyone off this accursed ship and destroy it.

 

"What was all that about?!" DeCamp demanded.

 

"Nothing we should dwell upon now. All you need to know is that this ship is a trap set for us, and that we should leave." Hubros replied tersely.

 

"Brother Ruuterfjord. Did you receive my last transmission?"

 

"Indeed Lord. I am already on my way to meet you. However, we should find an alternative means of escape. The ship is already accelerating too fast to use the boarding tube. I am transmitting the coordinates to the docking bay. There are two old Imperial Guard mass transports. I have commanded the computer to have them primed for departure."

 

"Acknowledged. Hubros out."

 

 

The journey to the docking bay, some forty decks below was harried by severe tremors ship wide.

 

"What is causing that?" asked Brother Quaestio, a Marine in Sergeant Clypeus' squad.

 

"The engines are at full power." DeCamp "This ship is old, possibly older than the Ferrus Cornus. Computer protocols would normally limit the power sent to the engines, resulting in a gradual increase in speed. It would seem that they have been tampered with. The ship is tearing itself apart as it nears it's top speed."

 

"We're within three decks of our objective," Sergeant Clypeus told the group. "Squad form on me. Any enemies should be dispensed with extreme prejudice!"

 

 

 

Arriving at the Docking bay, the Marines could see two dilapidated mass transports. Smaller than a Thunder Hawk, and of unfamiliar design, it was ugly, squat. A large nose, narrower in the middle with the rear mainly consisting of atmospheric and spatial engines bolted on almost as an after thought. Brother Ruuterfjord was already there, making final checks on them both. Either transport would have been big enough to accommodate them all, but Ruuterfjord did not believe in taking taking chances.

 

"All systems are checked. Both ships are crude and in need of maintenance, but will suffice."

 

"Indeed." Hubros answered, the slight inflection of sarcasm lost upon the Iron Father.

 

"Ruuterfjord, take your squad on one ship, I will take the others aboard the other."

 

"Lord? You can fly such device?"

 

"All sons of Petracco have flight experience, Brother. It has been some time, but I think I can manage." Hubros replied, his face showing a shadow of a smile, remembering his youth.

 

"As you command."

 

"Once we have cleared the ship, head back to the Ferrus Cornus. Should my ship fail to return, you are to order them ship to send a signal on to Petracco. Warn the Steel Liege of what has transpired and await his orders. Obey no other command, regardless of whom may give it. Understood?"

 

"Perfectly, Lord. The Emperor protects."

 

"Indeed he does."

 

Wasting no further time, Hubros and his squad boarded their ship. Making his way to the cockpit, Hubros tried to make or tail of the controls. It seemed simple enough. A rudimentary joystick for maneuvering, a throttle for thrust control. The co-pilot had similar controls. There was no logic to the control panel. None of the various knobs, toggles and switches were marked. Mumbling to himself, Hubros called for Brother Fuga to accompany him. Fuga, a Marine who excelled at piloting almost anything once he know how to control it, was a Land speeder pilot of some 80 years. Even Fuga whistled when he saw the jumble of dials.

 

"I think.... it is that one," He pondered, flicking a toggle and was rewarded with the auxiliary power systems starting.

 

"Lord Hubros," Rutterfjord voxed from the other ship, "This ship is the only one that has remote controls to the docking bay doors. If you are reasy to depart, I will lower them."

 

"Proceed."

 

The massive doors in front of them slowly lowered into the deck. A force field crackled briefly, before fading. There was enough space for them to leave astride each other, but as the ship was by now violently shaking, Rutterfjord's ship took point.

 

Hubros following gunned the engine, knowing that they had to compensate their speed. The larger ship was near maximus velocity, and to simply fly out of the docking bay would sent their ship into a spin, if they were lucky.

 

As their ship flew clear, the sudden change in speed, knocked the transport sideways. Straining to regain control, Hubros tried to steer to allow the inertia to equalise. A sudden wrench forced the ship to list to the port. Warning lights flashed on the console, each more urgent and incomprehensible than the last.

 

"If I'm reading this correctly," Fuga said, "That blow took out one of the engines. We're also leaking fuel. Life support is also failing."

 

"Tell the others to seal their suits if they haven't already done so!" Hubros snarled, wrestling with the controls. "I'm diverting the remaining power to that remaining engine."

 

The ship had, after some creative piloting managed to achieve a modicum of stability, although the hull was shaking, it's graceless form now sporting a gaping hole to the rear.

 

"Are we able to hail the other ship?"

 

"Transmitting."

 

"Ruuterfjord? Hubros. Return to the Ferrus Cornus. We have sustained damage, and will not be able to reach her. Do not return for us. Alerting the Steel Liege is your top priority, after destroying that ship! Remember, do not acquiesce to any others bar his. We are close enough that we can attempt to make planet fall. Once you have made your transmission, await further orders. We will await retrieval by Thunder Hawk, once we have made an assessment upon the planets surface."

 

"Understood. Rutterfjord out."

 

"The planet?" asked DeCamp. "What could possibly be there?"

 

"All I know is, there has been far too much coincidence since that ship arrived," Hubros stated grimly. "I intend to get to the bottom of it."

 

 

The transport fared no better making it's way into the planet's Thermosphere. Buffeting, caused mainly by the singular engine and the large hole in the rear made any adjustment difficult, the controls resisting in Hubros' hands. A brief period of calm beset the ship on it's journey down, before the ship hit the Stratosphere with such force that Hubros had been thrown clear of his seat. Fuga had taken up piloting using the co-pilot controls. Struggling with the joystick, he fought to regain some measure of control, but gravity had surely taken hold. Fuga was sorely tempted to let go, as there was little he could do to slow the ship, or to adjust trajectory.

 

"All in all a rather mundane day," he muttered to himself. Hubros who had returned to his seat, had heard his subordinates remark and smiled wanly. Fuga was known for his sense of humour, although he wasn't sure if he was joking in this instance.

 

Below, the planets surface was becoming more and more distinct.

 

"Brothers. We are near to the surface. Adopt crash positions." Vox confirmations were made and Hubros made a brief prayer to the God Emperor and to the Primarch Ferrus Manus.

 

"Sancta Imperatorem redimeret die illa, ut beneficio tuo iterum fugientes ad iusticiam." O holy Emperor, redeem us these day, that we may once again bring to justice those who flee your beneficence..

 

"Carnis est infimra," added Fuga.

 

 

The locals on Chobu could see a massive ball of flame, fall from the sky. Being of a superstitious nature, it was concluded that judgement had befell them, and many had gathered at the nearest place of worship, to beseech the Emperor of Mankind to spare them. Wails of entreatment, flagellation, and doomsayers whipped the crowds to near fever pitch. From the darkness, a pair of eyes once again watched them with amusement, delighting in their despair, the way an epicure would savour a quality wine or sweetmeat.

 

"You should make ready. The plan has accelerated. It would seem that there are survivors. I know that you will make our impending guests welcome."

 

"I will," replied the watcher by vox. "I shall see to it personally."

 

And for the first time in many years, did he feel elation.

[Aqui]

Part 5:

 

The crash landing had been far more severe than Hubros had hoped. Three of his Marines had died on reentry, their stricken forms mutilated badly, by Hull stanchions that had buckled under the extreme stresses. Cursing Chobu again, Hubros turned to DeCamp, who had himself been injured. His armour was buckled in many places, his right arm especially.

 

"I can still aim my Bolter well enough, but I will be prone in close combat." He reported.

 

"Clypeus?"

 

"Our Terminator armour holds true Lord," Clypeus responded. "We will deploy at the front and rear of our group."

 

"Good. Once we have worked out 'where we are, we can search out a settlement. I want answers, and I feel that this planet holds them."

 

"What of this....Ghiberti, Lord? I have never heard of such a place."

 

"I...wouldn't make much of the rambling of a despicable corpse, DeCamp. However, there is such a place."

 

"And?" DeCamp persisted. "What happened?"

 

Hubros paused. That infernal place was a stain on the Steel Wings otherwise unblemished record. There was so much that was still unknown about what actually happened towards the end. Especially at the end.

 

"Lord, it is obvious that this...Ghiberti holds some significance to our current situation. I have no wish to speak out of turn, but I feel that we should know about what we could be dealing with here."

 

Hubros sighed, knowing his second's words rang true. The events on that world were known to few, and were never to be spoken of....but if there was something about what had happened there that could be important.....

 

"Know this. What I tell you now, must never be spoken of to your Brothers on the Ferrus Cornix. Ever. You will swear this."

 

Hesitating, the other Marines looked at each other briefly, before complying.

 

"Very well. The planet Ghiberti was a Planet in the Thrall of Chaos that we were sent to Liberate over three hundred years ago. The native PDF had overrun the Government and allowed renegades to take control. Our Chapter and that of the Bahltimyr Rayvens were sent in earnest to bring the planet back to compliance........."

 

 

Planet Ghiberti, Segmentuum Pacificus three hundred years earlier.

 

The Pride of Em'tebank, the Flagship of the Bahltimyr Rayvens punched it's way back into real space. An ugly ship, it's lines still battle damaged from it's last campaign, it lead other ships, similar in size and shape. The Rayvens were summoned to this world, one of some value in the local system, renowned for it's Psycurium deposits, minerals and less renowned for harbouring the scum of the entire sector, it's ports rife with illegal gambling dens, whore houses and other, even less reputable, but nevertheless lucrative forms of business. Whilst such practices should not be allowed to continue, another, more pressing threat endangered that world.

 

Chaos. Ghiberti, whilst dirty, was still loyal to the Imperium in a fashion. No Xeno's were allowed to anywhere near the system, much less to planet itself. And whilst gleefully murdering another, even the most psychotic of it's natives would swear to the Emperor.

 

Mostly, they just swore.

 

But the threat of Chaos was, in the end inevitable. Screening of immigrants was lax, and over the Millennia had allowed those devoted to the Dark Gods ingress with relative ease. Their mission was subtle, to introduce sedition slowly, to walk amongst those they would corrupt. To seed doubt and encourage those who had little to lose. Or so they thought. To gain anything through the worship of the Pantheon, you had to give your very all. And that was more than any mortal could imagine...

 

 

Disdainful of his orders, Master Rai Lurweiss had nevertheless followed them to the letter. Upon entering the system, he had reviewed the transmission sent by those simpering fools at the Administorum. To request a Company of Marines to quell a rebellion was not out of the ordinary, but to demand an entire Chapter was something else. To make matters worse, his Chapter was to support a smaller contingent of Marines from the Steel Wings! Support! It made his blood boil. To once again be reduced to a supporting role! Hasn't his Chapter proved their worth enough times already? He knew full well that mistrust of his Chapters' origins made others wary. The twenty-first Founding was one of both promise and sorrow. All created in that Founding had in someway failed. All of them. He had personally scrutinised every aspect of his Chapter. Their doctrine, their methods, their very souls. He could find nothing. But, it would seem that despite everything they had done, ever accomplishment, it was nought but ash to those who judged them. Very well, he decided, judge not, lest ye be judged yourself. The Emperor, and the Emperor alone could truly judge them.

 

He would execute this...campaign and show all who found them wanting that they were a force to be reckoned with.

 

In his reverie, he hadn't heard his helmsman.

 

"A transmission, Lord."

 

"Display."

 

The holviewer spluttered into life and the visage of another Marine could be seen. This face, tanned by an exotic sun was pitted by scars, extensive bionics covering half of his skull.

 

"Well met, Brother. I am Iron Lord Prodomus, of the Steel Wings. I thank you for your prompt arrival. I have formulated a plan of attack. Perhaps we should meet in person to discuss how best to prosecute this War against the Dark ones?"

 

"Well met....Cousin." Lurweiss emphasizing the word. "I am Chapter Master Lurweiss of the Bahltimyr Rayvens."

 

Prodomus paused, knowing that he was outranked, and that his...cousinly Chapter's honour has been smarted. However, his orders stood. The Steel Wings were first to arrive at Ghiberti and had already engaged the enemy. To remove his troops from combat just to salve the ego of another, no matter how sympathetically he felt, was against all logic.

 

"We have been told that your Chapter has been forwarded to support us, whilst we press our advantage." Prodomus continued. "Our troops are currently attacking the Capital, but we have seen activity in the Eastern region. Perhaps your troops would be best able to investigate there?"

 

Lurweiss could feel the bile rise in his throat again and swallowed. He knew that Prodomus meant no harm, but he would not be reduced to a police action, rounding up extremists whilst the true enemy lay at the Capital.

 

He would not be cowed, nor be made to stand by whilst others had all of the glory. He would not stand by and allow this to happen.

 

"No," he stated simply.

 

"No?" replied Prodomus. "You have another strategy in mind?"

 

"I do. I will take the Capital. I will burn it to the ground. I will suffer not, a heretic to live!"

 

"We are already taking the Capital!" Prodomus hissed angrily. "We need your Chapter to ensure that the traitors there do not get any support from the troops amassing in the east!"

 

"We will not support you. We will take the Capital ourselves. It would seem that you can not crack their defenses. The Capital will fall by our hands. You would be best to stay out of our way."

 

"Have you taken leave of your senses?!" Prodomus shouted. "You would risk this world and everything on it, for glory?!"

 

"Wouldn't you? We will retake this planet, bring it back to compliance, or we destroy it. It will serve as as a warning, the consequence of betraying the Emperor. End transmission."

 

"You can not...." began Prodomus, but was cut off.

 

"Hr'Boor, begin the Litanies. We will attack the Capital once our ship's orbit is in line. We will fall from the sky, as graceful as a Ravens' feather."

 

"And as deadly as a Reaver's dagger." finished Hr'Boor, the last line of a poem, native to Bahltimyr.

[Llagos_Tyrant]

The more I read of this, the more interested I am to see just what the Bahltimyr Reavers have in stored for the Steel Wings.

 

Keep it up!

 

One question, why would anyone send a Chapter to support a Company? If the Company needed the help of a Chapter, I'd think they'd have suffered heavy losses and be pushed into the supporting role.

[Aqui]

The more I read of this, the more interested I am to see just what the Bahltimyr Reavers have in stored for the Steel Wings.

 

Keep it up!

 

One question, why would anyone send a Chapter to support a Company? If the Company needed the help of a Chapter, I'd think they'd have suffered heavy losses and be pushed into the supporting role.

 

Thanks :lol:

 

The Steel Wings arrived first. If it was just the one Company of Steel Wings, then yes, they should defer to the 'Rayvens, but the rest of the Chapter is also on the way. From Prodomus' point of view, they are already established, and are on the way to the Capital to tear the heart of the Rebellion out before it gets too far (if it hasn't already). To withdraw and let the 'Rayvens take their place would waste too much time. It's a large planet (which I should have explained early on in part 5, but I'll add more in part 6 when both Chapters are planet bound), and requires both Chapters to secure certain areas before moving on to the main objective - the Capital. It doesn't help that as an Iron Hand successor, the Steel Wings are suspicious of others anyway. The Rayvens, because of their origins are viewed with varying degrees of distrust and it has made them both paranoid and distrustful themselves. Not a good recipe for two Chapters who have the same objective - to wipe out the rebellion!

 

I'll be explaining more about their own viewpoints as the story progresses, and hopefully all will be made clearer ;)

[Aqui]

Part 6:

 

Lurweiss had retired to his private chamber to calm himself. Ahead lay the perfect opportunity for his Chapter to finally prove themselves. To finally show their Primogenitor, the Raven Guard, that they were finally free of the curse that their Primarch, Corvus Corax had unwittingly unleashed upon them.

 

On their conception, the Raven Guard had, emphatically stated that "No good would become of this new Chapter", and that they would have nothing to do with them. Whilst that was over four and a half thousand years ago, the insult still smarted. The Chapter records gave an indication of their parent Chapter having an unstable Geneseed, but it didn't explain the Raven Guards' harsh attitude to their siblings. If the flaws had been cured, then why did they still regard them as failures?

 

Looking around the room, he once again read the names of those whom had lead the Chapter before him.

 

Ert M'Odell, Bish Ciotti, March Ibro'da, and others, all true custodians of the Chapter. All exemplary. But none of them could remove the stigma, the blight of their very existence. For them, no answers, no vindication.

 

Nevermore.

 

Leaving the room, grim determination set Lurweiss upon a course that would forever change his Chapter.

 

 

Ghiberti, Northern Province, 400 miles south of the Capital Sortita. Day one of the Campaign.

 

The sortie had tried to make a dent in the city's defenses, but had encountered fierce resistance for the outset. The Capital, Sortita, was a fortress, built to jealously guard it's refined Pyscurium. Orbital batteries had meant that the small contingent had little choice but to land a significant distance away and make their way using Rhino APC's and Landraiders. Trailing further behind, a trio of Whirlwinds and Predator tanks lurked, better able to give fire support from the rear. The entire Chapter was to be deployed in this campaign, something that had only happened once before in it's long history. It would take the others sometime to reach this world, but another Chapter, the Bahlitmyr Rayvens had apparently arrived already. Iron Lord Prodomus had remained on their ship orbiting this world to better communicate with this Brotherly Chapter.

 

By nature Steel Wing Marines harboured a sense of distrust of others, a remnant from their home planet of Petracco. Waring tribes and their world being abandoned by the Adeptus Mechanicus, once all trace of useful resources had been striped, left the natives bitter in the main, but it didn't stop them from re-establishing links with the Scions of Mars. After all, such a treaty with a puissant faction had benefits, and meant that they could see any future betrayal coming.

 

Sergeant Hubros, viewed this world with dispassionate eyes. There were similarities on this world to his, but whilst his world was polluted beyond belief, this one still had some areas of natural beauty. His Rhino, had just passed such an area, and he felt nothing towards what he saw. Never having been raised on such a world, he cared little for nature. It, like humanity as a whole was weak. Only by sundering the flesh and embracing the machine, could Humanity be assured.

 

As it is taught, so shall it be.

 

His attention was pulled away from a vox by the driver.

 

"Veteran-Sergeant, a priority call from the Iron Lord."

 

"Bring us to a halt. I want all of the other sergeants assembled for this."

 

It took ten minutes for the Iron Father, Pahs'Tur to amplify the signal. The deposits on this world made communication difficult. It didn't help that the traitors' initial bombardment of the road further ahead had caused massive electromagnetic interference.

 

"Veteran-Sergeant. Finally. I take it the enemy has taken measures to prevent your progress?"

 

"Aye, Lord. The only viable road to the Capital has been blasted many times. There is naught but a massive crater. My scouting party has also said that their orbital assault batteries are within the Capital itself."

 

"It will be difficult to get close enough to retake the Capital, Hubros." the Iron Lord paused, making Hubros uneasy. Prodomus was one of the most self assured Marines he had ever known. No arrogance, but a measured calm. There was intense irritation, anger even. What has happened to make the Iron Lord so ill humoured?

 

"We have made contact with Chapter Master Lurweiss. It...did not go well."

 

Prodomus outlined the events, the recollection still sore a wound to him. Hubros had nothing to say. It was not his place to make his opinions known, his Lord not known for asking for his opinion. However, Prodomus did so, on this occasion.

 

"Without knowing what their motivations are Lord, I can not say for certain," Hubros began.

 

"But."

 

"But, they seem driven, determined to be the sole victors in this. Why this should be, I can not say."

 

"Can not, or will not?" Prodomus replied.

 

"I...have heard of these Sons of Bahltimyr, Lord. They prosecute war, like few others we have fought along side. They do not follow orders given to them, unless it suits their purpose. They have annihilated whole settlements, when it was known where the ringleaders of a rebellion were. They have bombarded Cities and planets of such value, that I am surprised that they are not the subject of an official....investigation. In one exchange of pleasantries with that of a Marine of the Amber Dragons Chapter, he had stated that in battle they were blood thirsty, short of temper and insular to the extreme."

 

"I see." mused Prodomus. "Yet these are the allies we must work with. I have already consulted with the Steel Liege. His orders are to wait until our Chapter is reunited. We will then proceed as planned."

 

"Lord? We will wait? The foe is already firmly entrenched! If we wait further, we can not press any advantage that we still have!"

 

"Advantage? Thanks to our...allies, we have lost that. Without their support in removing those potential reinforcements east of your position, we can do nothing. You will dig in at your position and await further orders. The Steel Liege himself will lead us into battle. Be patient. If our allies wish to waste their lives, let them."

 

"Understood Lord. How soon will the Steel Liege arrive?"

 

Possibly within the next three days. Until we have the others support, we will observe, and hold position. Prodomus out."

 

Hubros turned to the other Sergeants.

 

"What do we do?" asked one.

 

"You have to ask? We hold position. Have Scout squad Oher report for a briefing. I want a complete analysis of their defenses."

 

 

 

Within a dark room, a box, ornately carved with horrible runes and sigils was watched by four guards. These men, were blind, their eyes crudely cut out and replaced with motion sensors. Clothed in simple robes of hessian, they were armed each with a halberd and las pistol. The box was a cube, with a brass lock patina'd by age securing the lid. A legend inscribed by steady hands, unreadable by mortal eyes atop the lid. A dull glow of green emanated from small cracks along the surface. It's fate was near, tangible even. The glow began to resonate slowly, throbbing.

 

The writing writhed in sympathy to the glow within. Slowly letters of High Gothic began to form, spelling out one word.

 

Pandoricus.

[Aqui]

Only a small entry this time, but it's the most "edgy" (if it can be called that) piece I've done thus far. Hopefully, it'll start to answer a few questions about what mindset the Rayvens have, and what they will do to accomplish a mission.

 

I just hope I haven't gone too far with it.....

 

 

Part 6a:

 

The Traitors, had despite themselves put up a formidable fight. Once they realised they were under attack they had closed the gates to the North. A ruthless tactic as it had left hundreds of guards men and civilians locked out. The screams and cries for the gate, one over two metres thick and one hundred metres wide, to be reopened, went unheard. In the distance, a black and purple shadow amassed. The Rayvens had come, and to a man, woman and child, all who faced them knew they were doomed.

 

Some had rushed forward, begging to be forgiven, protesting their innocence. None were judged to be so, all falling before swords, bolter and flame. Others had grim resolve, knowing their fate before them and stepped forward to meet it. Others still had lost their shambling grip on sanity, their minds falling in on itself, clinging on to imagined ideals.

 

The tanks had remained silent, their cannon unfired, hoping to get their foe within range. Not so, as the Bahltimyr Rayvens responded with heavy support of their own. Whirlwinds, Predators, and Razorbacks fired relentlessly, wrecking the heavy weapons before they could fire a single shot.

 

Chaplain Hr'Boor watched the devastation with grim satisfaction. Whilst it was known it would be no easy task to gain entry to the Capital without a fight, it seemed too little a challenge. Issuing orders to the vehicle commander, he fixed his attention to a small shape near the tree line to the left. It was a trying to move away from the conflict, but was unable to walk, instead crawling, pulling it's frame foot by agonising foot.

 

Curious, Hr'Boor strode towards it, keeping his eye on what was transpiring yonder. As he got nearer, he could see that it was a small child, a girl, no older than seven years standard. One of her legs had been smashed, bone protruding, piercing flesh as sharp as a surgical knife. Hr'Boor, despite himself was impressed. Such a small Human, was calmer in thought than it's adult peers, had, despite her injuries managed to get clear of the barrage.

 

The girl realised that she was being followed and was glaring at him, her filthy, tear streaked face etched with pure hate. Hr'Boor could not see any obvious mutations about her person, and pondered whether she had actually escaped the touch of Chaos. Kneeling by her side, he held her still to get a better look, both at her injuries and to see if she was untouched after all. Trembling, but still throwing hateful looks at the giant, she offered no resistance.

 

Hr'Boor noticed something around the child's neck. Unwilling to directly touch the object for fear of pollution, he employed a twig from the floor, pulling the chain clear. He expected to see a grotesque sigil of the Dark Gods. He was overwhelmed with joy to see that it was an Aquila, stamped from cheap metal.

 

Remarkable, thought Hr'Boor. This child, may prove to be untouched by the Evil after all.

 

"Little one, do you understand me?"

 

The child nodded her understanding.

 

"Do you know why we are here?"

 

A shake of her head.

 

"We are hear to cleanse this world of those who would betray the Emperor." Bowing her head, the girl crossed her palms across her chest, painfully making the sign of the Aquila.

 

"Can you tell me anything about what has been happening in your city?" Sobbing now, the girl shook her head.

 

Standing, Hr'Boor voxed to Librarian Iffans. If this girl is untouched, she should be allowed to live.

 

Sensing someone behind him, Hr'Boor turned. Chapter Master Lurweiss, had approached, his eyes locked upon the child.

 

"What is this?" He asked, his voice barely concealing the contempt he viewed the child with.

 

"A human girl. She seems to be untouched. I thought I should have her verified by Librarian Iffans. If she is pure, she deserves to live."

 

"And if she is not?"

 

"I will deal with her myself."

 

Lurweiss pondered on those words for a moment. Approaching the girl, he pulled out his bolt pistol before even Hr'Boor could react.

 

The girl's head jerked back violently, the shot sounding louder than the heavy artillery behind them.

 

"There are no innocents here, Hr'Boor. None pure of heart. There is only corruption, decay and death. All on this planet have turned from the Emperor. No exceptions."

 

Turning, Lurweiss returned to the massacre. Hr'Boor reluctantly followed, hate filling his soul, unable to look at the small figure again.

[Llagos_Tyrant]

Ouch. I'd almost expect a reprimand from the Chaplain there but I guess that is what soured their relationship ...

 

Keep it coming!

[Aqui]

Ouch. I'd almost expect a reprimand from the Chaplain there but I guess that is what soured their relationship ...

 

Keep it coming!

 

I can see your point, but I won't comment further as it may spoil stuff coming up ;)

 

Edit:

 

Part 6b:

 

Day four of the Campaign.

 

Steel Wing Camp, South of the Capital

 

The sun was barely visible on the horizon, when the ThunderHawk Voce del Primarca, landed bearing it's passengers, The Steel Liege, Lord Robante himself and his most trusted advisers. Waiting to attention, Prodomus pondered his Lord's mood. The Steel Liege was not known for his diplomacy. Adding this to the similar attitude of their...allies, it didn't bode well. Walking down the ramp, the Lord of the Steel Wings caught his eye, his face unreadable. Prodomus had expected anger, rage and fury, but the Steel Liege seemed calm to the point of indolence. That above all else worried him. Had current events reached his ears? Or will he now have to explain everything and bear the brunt of his Lord's ire?

 

Standing before him, resplendent in his custom made Terminator Armour, the Steel Liege was a giant of an Astartes, his left leg, and arm replacements for those lost in battle. The armour was a dull grey, save for his shoulder guards, which were a burnished Bronze, each a frieze showing his most hard won accomplishments. His face, partially plated in Steel, leaving him with a sneer, and a replacement eye, glowing like a furnace.

 

"I can see you were expecting me to be as bombastic as ever, Prodomus," Robante was clearly amused. Evidently, the Lord did know.

 

"I....wasn't sure what to expect Lord," Prodomus replied cautiously.

 

Roaring with laughter, Robante continued, "As diplomatic as ever, my friend. However, you must never fail to tell me the truth. I expect that from you above every one else. You never fail to pierce my rage with logic and reasoned account of what is.

 

"So, what have our Allies been up to since they arrived?"

 

"They have thus far slaughtered a large contingent of people out side the gates of the city to the North. Since that time they have continually bombarded the gates and the walls in the hope of gaining access."

 

"I take it the walls are still intact?"

 

"Negative, they have sustained a fair amount of damage from what we can ascertain. The sensors aboard the Ferrus Cornus have limited resolution, but we can assume that they have yet to breach them as they are still outside. As to how long before success is unknown."

 

"I would not be too concerned about them. We must concentrate on other matters. Let the Sons of Bahltimyr waste their munitions. You have confirmed another contingent is on it's way here?"

 

"Yes, Lord. Other Hives have sent troops and heavy weapons in this direction. Judging from the numbers, it would seem that the entire contents of all of the Hives move to fight us. Logically from their movements they are trying to pincer agains the Hive. However, it is making slow progress, allowing our Chapter to be fully entrenched. This area is the most direct route to the City. To support their vile brethren, they will have to get past us."

 

"Indeed. Let us welcome them in the Tradition of Petracco. Unleash the Iron Wing."

 

"It will be done, Lord."

 

 

The Iron Wing. Whilst it's official Chapter designation is that of the Second Company, it truly encapsulates the spirit of Petracco. To soar, to fly high. To visit death from above. Land Speeders in all of it's variants number many, and indeed the use of attack bikes, some Marines seeing their value too. Jump packs are in high regard, as a personal way of instilling fear of the skies. If the First Company is the Spirit of what it means to be an Astartes, then the Second Company is the spirit of what it means to be a native of Petracco.

 

The noise alone was enough to terrify opponents, and indeed it has served it's purpose as such. The Second Company rarely used stealth. A large assembly of machines would have little use for such tactics. If anything, it has served as both diversion and frontal attack, whilst the Scout Company supported by Tactical units attack via subtler means.

 

Not so on this occasion. The enemy had been travelling hard, on a road that offered little protection and even less chance to rest. Journeying within a valley, steeped with high walls of rock, it would be nigh on impossible to about turn, or spread out to counter such a frontal attack. To make matters harder, the Chapter's heavy weapons, Land Raiders, Whirlwinds and Predators had been dropped behind them.

 

No escape. But they fought anyway. The vile slaves to Dark Gods had made a stand on the Twentieth day. A full quarter of their forces had fallen within hours, bombardment detonating engines, and precious fuel supplies. Bodies of crewmen flailed about in their vehicles as they were poached alive. Others panicking, trying to turn their weapons skyward, to fire at their attackers, not taking into account that the projectiles were too slow and crude to keep up with a Land Speeder at full speed, instead falling upon another. With both edges of the contingent awash with flame, and the middle firing indiscriminately, their fate was sealed.

 

But the fighting went on, regardless. It took a week. The Valley filled with wreckage and corpses. Four Hives had sent their all against the Loyalists. None survived. The Iron Wing had taken significant damage, the fallen celebrated in the Petraccan way, that of flame and of song. The geneseed recovered, their duty done, their souls free to soar the heavens to take their place with the Emperor and the Omnisiah.

 

The immediate threat was over, but the conflict was barely beginning.....

[Llagos_Tyrant]

I had to hunt this thread down but I liked the latest post.

 

Do keep this going, won't you? :cuss

[Aqui]

I had to hunt this thread down but I liked the latest post.

 

Do keep this going, won't you? ;)

 

I haven't abandoned any of the stories, but I am focusing on the Liber Astartes campaign at the moment.

 

It won't be too long until I get some more written for all of them ;)

[BassWave]

Just read all of it tonight, fantastic! Keep it up :tu:

[Aqui]

Just read all of it tonight, fantastic! Keep it up :tu:

 

 

Thanks ^_^

 

I've kept away from this story for a while, as it occurred to me that if I kept going the way I was, I was going to end up writing the entire event that Hubros was recounting (which would have been both long and dull, at least until the end ;) ). I was spending so much time writing about that, I nearly forgot that it's merely a flashback and not the story itself! :D

 

I'm going to re-read the whole thing and work out the best way to proceed. I haven't posted anything since July :D so I think it's long past time for a little more ;) In any case, there'll be an update soon.

 

Shameless plug - my first Bahltimyr Reaver mini Flah Kuo has been completed (I'm waiting for some of the new shiny stuff out next week to build Hr'Boor and Lurweiss ;) ). Whilst he's a bit part player in my other story a Valorous Heart, a Dauntless Spirit), he'll be playing a much bigger part in the greater scheme of things.....

 

EDIT:

 

Have just written this part to get the ball rolling. Hope it satisfies ;)

 

Part 6C:

 

“How is it that none of our Brothers know of this?!” DeCamp exclaimed. “Secrets and lies! Who else knows?!”

 

Hubros turned to his second, his remaining natural eye narrowing, both in anger at his subordinate speaking out of turn, and sorrow, knowing that DeCamp’s words echoed his own sentiments. The bitterness of the whole affair built up over the centuries, unable to find any release, forbidden to speak of it. Even to others who also knew.

 

“The Steel Liege himself ordered this knowledge to be kept to only to those in command positions on that fateful campaign. There are few of us left who still carry out this dubious task, this...stain on our honour. Would you have disobeyed him? The fact that I am telling you this now, is both vindication of my trust in you all, and a direct violation of that order.”

 

DeCamp, was silent for a moment, realising how significant this fact was. Hubros was a Marine held in high regard Chapter wide, and was an adherent to order, to loyalty above all else. Looking closer at his face, he could see how much it pained him to keep this secret.

 

“I have not finished. There is more to tell. Events that have stained our honour since, and is something that I can never hope to fully rectify.

 

“The traitors’ reinforcements had effectively been decimated – literally. For every heretic within that Citadel, nine had been slain on that road. The carnage was such that has never been seen before or since by our Chapter. There is blood on our hands, figuratively and literally.”

 

“The blood of heretics is nothing to shy away from!” grunted Clypius “The Emperor himself has decreed that all who fail to follow him are damned.”

 

“Correct. But that is not what I was referring to. Towards the end of that campaign, if one could call it such, it was evident that the Bahltimyr Rayvens were driven by an almost insane desire to prove themselves worthy, to redeem themselves in the eyes of their Primogenitor Chapter, the Raven Guard.”

 

“So they wanted nothing less than respect of their elders. There is nothing bad about that.”

 

“They were one of the Twenty-first Founding.”

 

The shock expressed by all present was palpable. Whilst nothing specific was known of that Founding, it was known that nothing good befell upon those Chapters created within it.

 

“By your reactions, I can gauge that you know of that Cursed Founding.” Hubros continued.

 

“I heard tell of rumours told of whole Chapters turning to the Dark because of it, and even the ones who loved the Emperor and followed him devoutly were doomed to a horrible fate.” Clypius sighed sadly, making the sign of the Aquila.

 

“Indeed, although we did not know of their origins until a long time after, and that was only due to...extensive research. None of which matters, for now.”

 

“For now? You have suspicions, Lord?”

 

“Let us just say that I have a feeling that the past rushes to meet us, brothers. We must meet it fully prepared, with courage and a clear mind.”

 

There was a silence for some time, no one wanting to break the quiet. The crash site was substantial, and had turned a group of fields to pulp, their crops destroyed utterly. Looking around, Hubros continued.

 

“At the end of the Campaign, tensions with our cousinly Chapter had reached a point of no return. They would not return our hails, would not give us their positions to avoid friendly fire.

 

In the end, we had lost all contact with them. It was almost as if they had vanished.

 

“Almost.”

 

 

Day 79 of the campaign

 

Rai Lurweiss was filled with anticipation. The Citadel had finally succumbed to their prolonged barrage, and whilst many of the ringleaders had been rounded up and made an example of, their leader was still at large. One final push towards the central building was needed to flush that spineless traitor out. One final obstacle to remove.

 

And the Rayvens would be able to finally spread their Wings and be persecuted, Nevermore.

 

“Follow me my Brothers! Today, we will change the fate of this world forever! We go to meet our destiny! Let nothing stand in our way!”

 

Truer words were never spoken.

 

 

 

He had done as the voices had told him to the letter, he was sure of this. To disobey or make a crass error was to invite something worse than death. He shuddered involuntarily, having seen his predecessor’s fate. It was not something he wished to experience for himself. Whilst he was acknowledged as the leader of this glorious revolution against the worshippers of the Corpse God, he knew he was nothing more than a cat’s paw. Even worse, was his own self awareness of his role.

 

And how redundant he was once his usefulness was at an end.

 

He could almost feel the object looking at him. Others scoffed at him when it was found, telling him that it was just down to his lifelong paranoia. The word was out on that, but still, it was looking at him. He knew it.

 

He was the only Cultist who had not lost their sight, mind or both when he had fully gazed upon it for the first time. The superstitious amongst them had claimed it was a Sign, fully justifying the capital letter. He was bewildered by all of the attention at first, and after a chance encounter with some of the more hedonistic members of the Cult, drunk with the adulation, their attentiveness knowing no bounds, no excess to deep. Soon after that, he was sick of it. He knew he was damned, the voices had told him so. Death, by his own hand or not was a quick fire way to his fate. To continue to serve was, in the end only a fleeting way to postpone the Dark Gods tribute, and a treacherous one at that. So fickle were the Gods, so quick to anger, so readily they rescind their promises.

 

Not that they had made any to him of significance. But still.

 

The voices were more frequent now, their orders more and more urgent. Something was coming, and he was the one they had chosen to set events on the correct course. He didn’t want to know any more than that, and was grateful that the voices give him no insight whatsoever.

 

The guards were still on watch, but their manner was...disquieting. Before, they were emotionless, dispassionate, the perfect warriors to defend the object, small enough to place in the palm of ones hand, if one was mad enough to attempt it. Now, they whimpered, their throats unable to articulate whatever horror only they could see, their tongues excised to prevent them from telling anybody of their task.

 

Leaving the room once more, shutting the door behind him, he could still feel it looking at him, despite the door being at least eight inches thick.

 

Summoning what little calm he could muster, he strode off to the command centre. He needed to be updated on where the loyalists were.

 

And how long it would be before his fate and theirs would intertwine.....

[Aqui]

Another post - it would seem that I'm on a roll! :)

 

Part 7:

 

“The walls were finally down and with it a chance to punish the cowards lurking within. Yes, cowards! To use another word for those who leave the Emperor’s Light, is a gross inaccuracy!” – attributed to Chaplain Hr’Boor at the height of the campaign to redeem Ghiberti.

 

It was not going well. Whilst he knew that all of the wretched souls within the Citadel were doomed to die here, that their fates were sealed years before they were even born, he still felt a pang of pity for them.

 

And for himself. His fate was sealed too. Turning his right wrist, palm facing down, he looked at the eight pointed star formed from malign scar tissue from a wound he had sustained whilst enlisted in the planets’ PDF, he once again cursed his luck. Or lack of it.

 

He’d only wanted the basics in life. A home, a job after his enlistment ended and a few things that all humans want to make their toil bearable. Of course, once one starts to want, one begins to do almost anything to get. One starts to gamble heavily, one starts to take loans at rates that the Planetary Governor couldn’t afford. One starts to jump at shadows and at every noise made in the dark, from a pin drop to the raucous laughter of the lolling idiot living in the hab next door. He honestly thought he’d gotten away with it when the gang boss he’d stupidly made a deal with, got in the way of a Guard regiment on shore leave and was dealt with extreme prejudice. Of course, when a vacuum appears, it’s not long until something else rises up to fill it. And what had was something he still had nightmares about. He thought that “Dirty” Durant was frightening. The new...boss was from something that his nightmares’ nightmares had. He had extolled the virtues of knowledge and power stating that he had travelled amongst the stars fulfilling his masters’ will. DeCalle had never even left the planets’ main continent, much less the star system it inhabited. The man would always request that he carried out tasks at first and that was far more frightening than coercion.

 

Eventually, he was completely under his thrall, the almost alien mind behind the fiercest visage DeCalle had seen, knew that his basest desires would need to be slaked, and that only he could provide.

 

Damn it.

 

DeCalle didn’t try to hide his thoughts any more, there was no point, and to do so only kept the man amused in any case.

 

He stood before the creature, a shambling horror given form. He preferred shadow, and at any given time his human eyesight could only make out parts of its form. Thankfully. He had no wish to see it all at once. What he had seen was enough. A massive shape, armoured in a dark red. Powerful symbols adorned its surface. Who, or whatever this...man was, he was not to be trifled with.

 

“You are prepared to...receive our guests.” It wasn’t a question. The vile creature knew it was so, and that the pathetic man would not be in front of him alive if he was not.

 

“Aye, Lord.”

 

The shadow caught the tremor in his voice.

 

“You are nervous, Decalle? This is not like you. He, who has survived an encounter with the Sisters of Peccancy. On more than one occasion?” The amusement in its voice was grating, baiting a reply. It didn’t get one.

 

“Well?”

 

“I know my time is ending, Lord. I had hoped for a reprieve, but in my heart I know that is folly.”

 

“Indeed it is. Know this however, you have served your Gods admirably. Begin your final task.”

 

The tremor in rose again in his body, and he didn’t have anything left within his soul to stifle it. Turning, he retraced his steps, the voices in his mind screaming and wailing, their words derisive, nonsensical, to where his destiny lay.

 

The Pandoricus.

 

Approaching the room, he could feel the object staring at him, boring it’s consciousness into his very being. The guards inside had ceased wailing and gnashing their teeth. They seemed calm to the point of idiocy, another eerie aspect to the object within.

 

It had moods. When it was of a mind (assuming that it had such a thing, or was even able to comprehend the concept of a mind), it would lash out, finding chinks in mental armour, tearing them open, feeding on the resultant fear, despair, and loathing it generated. It was an evil thing. But no one, not even the man in shadow, truly knew what it was capable of.

 

Only that it needed to be opened. As the only mortal that was able to be anywhere near it and stay sane in some form, it was up to him. Only him. He wanted to run, fear and self preservation screaming at him to put any amount of distance between him and it. But his feet disobeyed, walking closer and closer. DeCalle flinched as the malevolent spirit within the cube entered his mind, ransacking his innermost thoughts, firing neurons the way a spoilt child would throw around their toys.

This was it. No turning back now. No reprieve at the last second, no second chances. Nothing.

 

Reaching out with both hands, the voices within his mind were silenced so suddenly, he flinched again, so loud the silence seemed. He could feel an aura of warmth surrounding the cube, almost pleasant to feel against his pitted skin.

 

Within inches of the cubes surface, the intricate and horrifying markings on the surface began to glow and writhe in anticipation. Closing his eyes, his fingers cluctched at it, lifting it closer to examine it. DeCalle had been instructed to simply push one of the surfaces away from him to open it. Apparently, it did not matter which. The box would open regardless.

 

With the cube in hands at chest height, thumbs along the top surface, he could feel tiny little bites of electricity, slowly gaining momentum and strength. The guards could not see what was going on, but it was obvious that they knew. They had started wailing again, but louder. The tension in the room was palpable, a smell of Ozone was overpowering.

 

Sighing, he opened his eyes.

 

“For the Pantheon,” he murmured half heartedly, pushing the cube edge forward with a swift flick of thumbs.

 

For a brief moment, it seemed as if nothing had happened. No explosion, no bellowing roar of a Daemon freed from bondage.

 

Nothing.

 

Dropping the box sharply, as an intense pain ran up his arm, DeCalle had a realisation why nothing seemed to happen.

 

The box was not designed to keep something caged. It was designed to bind something, to a mortal being. A massive jolt in his solar plexus sent him reeling, his back arching to an impossible angle. His skin burned, itching with such intensity, that had he not been more concerned about the rest of his body, he would have scratched until he had no skin left. His forehead was deforming, horns piercing the skin there, his fingers were growing to a massive size, with claws that could rend steel effortlessly. He was getting taller, looking down he realised that he no longer had feet, but hooves. A tail and wings sprouted from behind.

 

It was getting too difficult to think! Another mind rushed in to fill where his was being ejected. Something that had seen the dawn of time, and would most likely see it all extinguished too.

 

What...What are you? he managed to ask the presence.

 

It matters not. And neither do you

 

With a final scream, Aelester DeCalle ceased to exist, leaving behind something that would spell the end of this world.

And that of it’s would be defenders.

[BassWave]

Creepy :P

[Aqui]

Creepy ;)

 

I haven't gotten to the good part yet! :D

[Aqui]

Apologies for not making any head way on this story, but things never work out quite as planned.  I will get around to carrying this on, but I have other stories to work on and this one needs a little thought put into it before I continue.  However, (yet) another project I'm working on delves into something I've been thinking about a lot lately, mainly for my IA article for the Steel Wings.  Petracco, their homeworld.  For those who don't know, Petracco was once an Adeptus Mechanicus Forge world that was abandoned when there was nothing left to exploit.  That paved the way for the natives to (re)establish their world before the Iron Hands arrived and subsequently became the Steel Wings home world.  It's going to be a story that won't have any Space Marine involvement until near the end, and as such I decided not to post the instalments here (just to be on the safe side).  I created a word press account some time ago, so that I could write stories that were not within the B+C's remit - i.e. non human (i.e. Eldar, Ork and others) and non GW, so if anyone is interested, they can see it here.  I will continue to write and post stories here, but using word press will give me the chance to stretch my wings as it were :lol:

 

As for this story, well as I said, I will come back to it.  Sooner, rather than later.

[Dosjetka]

Woops, wrong topic, sorry :pinch:

[Aqui]

Woops, wrong topic, sorry

I should get around to another update for this, but I've been preoccupied. I have a week off soon, and I intend to get as much written for all of my stories (and possibly start a new one) as well as getting as much painting done as is physically possible