Sword Bearers and the Unforgiven (Updated 1/07/23: Angels Redeemed)

[Spaced Hulk]

I'm not saying don't have them be fourteenth founding. I'm just saying - it's not in M36. Not even a little bit. I did a whole big timeline, if you want to look at how they seem to break down. I didn't figure it was likely to be a critical detail.

 

As to the second founding thing...guess I'll have to wait to see more.

 

It's ok mate, I wasn't trying to contradict you (as I'm sure you're right!). I was working off a timeline from the 40K Lexicanum (which placed everything from the 13th to the 21st in M36) so I'm not at all surprised it was inaccurate. When I said about documents being misinterpreted/altered/wrong, I was talking about my own!

 

I'll change the date to M35. As for the controversy about the Sword Bearers being 2nd Founding, it's not a question of whether they are or not (as you said, there are a lot more 2nd Founding chapters than there used to be!). It's more a case of why would the Unforgiven want to hide their existence for so long?

 

To be honest though, the founding of the Sword Bearers isn't really as important as what happens to them later. It's the events of 935.M41 that define them, and will shape how my actual army will look.

 

Inaccurate dates aside, what do you think so far?

Edited March 13, 2013 by spacedhulk

[Dark Angel Company Master]

Most of the time I tend to skip over these type of threds. But your captured me right off the bat. Great job and I can't wait to read more.

[Octavulg]

Inaccurate dates aside, what do you think so far? smile.png

No worries. They're sort of right - the only date we have for it is M36. But once GW gave the Cursed Founding a firm date of very slightly before M36, I decided it was definitely time to start ignoring that bit.

 

Anyway, the rest seems fine. I like the home world. The DA seem a little more keen on them than I'd expect (the DA proper have always struck me as kind of self-centred, as are Space Marines in general), but that's a narrative device as much as anything. I like the swords. I like the color scheme. Even if I hate the stuff that is to come, you're doing pretty well so far.

Edited March 14, 2013 by Octavulg

[Marine5]

I like how you are presenting your DIY chapter, very original. Keep at it.

[rover]

Nice and fluffy stuuf :D

 

+1 :D

[Spaced Hulk]

Heed my words, my Brothers of the Swords. The fortress is overwhelmed, you must not return here. I repeat, the Fenspire is lost, do not return home. Only one course of action is now open to us. This foe must be destroyed, and for the sake of all Sons of the Lion, no-one must ever learn of these events. My last command is simply this: remember us as we were, not for the fate which has befallen us.

 

Last recorded vox transmission from the fortress monastery Fenspire, dated approximately 935.M41. Collected by Listening Station Gamma Five Four, Iris Sector, Ultima Segmentum in 442937.M41. Signal degradation means exact date-stamping of broadcast is impossible. Following voice analysis, speaker's identity is 97.5 per cent confirmed as Ivan Orbec, last known Supreme Grand Master of the Sword Bearers Chapter. 

Edited September 1, 2014 by spacedhulk

[Spaced Hulk]

He found him in the practice cages. Usually at this time, the training arena would be fully occupied, but today, perhaps as a mark of respect, he was it's only occupant. An interruption would be unwelcome, the Librarian decided, and so he remained silently in the shadows, watching and waiting.

 

The fighter in the cage was stripped to his waist, a sheen of sweat coating his scarred upper torso. He was broad and powerfully built, but unusually short for a Space Marine. There had been rumours that his terminator plate had needed to be specially adapted to fit him. The Librarian was not the first to notice the warrior's height, but equally he would not be the first to mention it to him. At the best of times, the warrior was not renowned for his sense of humour.

 

He was dual wielding: a blue-steel gladius in his left hand, a deactivated power maul in his right. Neither was the warrior's preferred weapon. However, the sword awarded to him along with his rank was far too revered for idle swings at a training servitor. Not, the Librarian corrected himself, that there was anything idle about the warrior's movements. In some Chapters, he knew, it was standard practice for each training bout to conclude with a fully dismembered servitor, fit only for recycle. But not so this warrior. Each strike of the blade, each swing with the mace was perfectly timed and flawlessly executed, beating the servitor's guard but stopping a hairs breadth from inflicting harm. Such self control was impressive, the Librarian thought to himself. Particularly from a warrior born of Kimmeria.

Within ten minutes the training program came to an end, the cage doors sliding across and remaining open, ready for the next occupant. The warrior carefully, almost reverentially replaced his weapons on the arming rack.

 

“It's true then.” The warrior still had his back to the Librarian and had given no indication that he was aware of the other's presence. Despite his exertion, his voice was calm, clear, measured. Perfect control, the Librarian thought to himself.

 

“Aye my lord.” The Librarian's voice, in contrast, was hoarse and little more than a whisper. The result, he sometimes joked, of communicating more with his mind than with his tongue.“We have received confirmation from both the Guardians and the Absolved. The boneclad, being closest, were the first to decode the message.”

 

The warrior snorted derisively. “That will please them, no doubt.”

 

The Librarian remained silent. The two Chapters, his own and the Angels of Absolution, were usually close allies. Lately, however, there seemed to be uncharacteristic tension between their respective Masters. The reason had not been disclosed, and the Librarian had refrained from asking. He could, of course, simply pluck the information from the mind in front of him, but such an intrusion was unwarranted. For the moment anyway.

 

“Are there any details?” The warrior spoke again as he picked up a coarse towel and began wiping the sweat from his arms.

 

“Yes my Lord.” The Librarian passed over the data slab. “It is...grim reading I'm afraid.”

 

The warrior read silently. There were, the Librarian knew, over a hundred pages in the document, and every word told of events most dire. However, if he had been expecting a reaction, he would have been disappointed. The warrior's expression did not change, his face a mask of calm neutrality.

 

After a minute, the warrior looked up. “Are there survivors?” His voice was similarly unchanged. Perfect control.

 

“A single Strike Force. They had been hunting the remains of the Hive fleet, and were therefore unaffected by either event.”

 

“How many?” Was that just the slightest flicker of emotion? Even with his gifts, the Librarian could not be certain.

 

“A company's worth. Maybe less. Of course their continued survival is, given the circumstances, highly unlikely.”

 

“Others have taken such losses and lived. The bell may not yet be tolling for them”. The warrior had moved back to the arming racks now, drawing a broadsword with one hand while still holding the data slab in the other.

 

“You mean Haakonath, presumably?”

 

“Actually,” the warrior smiled for the first time since leaving the cage, “I was referring to our brothers of Vengeance. But both are applicable in this context.”

 

“True, but the circumstances are quite different. Both the Phantoms and the Angels in Black suffered similar losses, but both were within range of support. In the aftermath of San Apolis, we sent two entire companies to assist them. They were not alone, at the edge of the great void. Survival has always been a knife's edge in the East.”

 

The warrior sighed, and for a second, a shadow passed across his stoic features. “Has there been any word from Lord Naberius?”

 

“No First Captain. Wherever our Supreme Grand Master's search has led him, he remains beyond our reach for now. As acting commander, the decision is yours.”

 

The pause lasted less than thirty seconds. Immediately, the tone was different, more formal. There was no hesitation in the voice, no doubts in the command that followed.

 

“Prepare your astropaths Chief Librarian. A conclave must be summoned. There are things to be discussed.” The warrior began walking back up the ramp into the practice cage, loosely swinging the sword in his right hand. “If the Bearers are to fade into the darkness, they should not face that fate alone.”

 

At the very top, he turned and looked down at the data slab in his left hand. “We owe them that much, at least.”

 

“It will be done immediately, Commander Azrael.” As he left the arena, the Librarian heard the practice cage slam shut once more.

Edited March 16, 2013 by spacedhulk

[Izzuan]

Simply stunning!

[Brother Immolator]

Got a bit confushed, but I think it is written at a time where Az was leading the deathwing still no?

Also I liked the fact that you involve the miniatures dimensions with the influff size of Azzy. Priceless :D

[Spaced Hulk]

Got a bit confushed, but I think it is written at a time where Az was leading the deathwing still no?

Also I liked the fact that you involve the miniatures dimensions with the influff size of Azzy. Priceless

 

Correct. At the time of the Fenspire disaster (935.M41), Az is still Master of the Deathwing.

 

To be honest, the story turned out slightly differently from my initial concept for it. When I started writing it yesterday, Az was Supreme Grand Master, the Librarian was Ezekial (complete with an irritatingly buzzing bionic eye) and they refered to the Crimson Fists when they're talking about potentially doomed Chapters. Unfortunately when I checked the time line in the DA Codex, none of those events had actually happened by this point! That'll teach me to set such specific dates in stone! I considered scrapping the whole short story and starting again, but I think it salvaged quite well. I actually quite like that Az is technically in charge but not yet Supreme Grand Master, it creates some potential story ideas for the Dark Angels as well as the Sword Bearers.

 

Glad you picked up the height reference, it's probably quite sad but I was actually chuckling to myself as I wrote that bit! 

Edited March 15, 2013 by spacedhulk

[facmanpob]

But does he have a squeaky voice? ;)

 

Really good stuff....when does the book come out! :D

[elphilo]

Really good stuff....when does the book come out!

Seriously!

 

http://i.imgur.com/Uazzgtc.jpg

[Spaced Hulk]

It was the tenth and final day of the muster when the black ships arrived. Two strike cruisers, identical in aspect, each as dark as the void itself. After days spent idly waiting while the Chapter prepared itself for war, the new arrivals were a welcome excitement. I already knew their identity of course, for their reputation has spread far outside the Ultima Segmentum. The Celerum Mortem, the infamous Second Company of the Sword Bearers. The Revenants.

 

In my youth, I had fought alongside several of the Unforgiven Chapters, and thought I knew what to expect from these grim warriors. I knew, for example, that like their Dark Angel forbears, the Second Company of the Swords are a dedicated fast attack formation, excelling in the use of bikes and land speeders. I also knew that unlike their predecessors, the Revenants are known to use jump packs when the need arises, and are said to be particularly adept in void combat. Even their company colours are the same matt black as the Ravenwing. There would be no surprises here.

 

I could not have been more mistaken. Even before the first Revenant thunderhawk had touched down, an icy chill spread insidiously across the entire flight deck. An aura of doom and despair seemed to take hold of us, numbing our senses, clouding our thoughts. Then the embarkation ramp descended, and I caught my first sight of them. Their armour was indeed as black as night, but death itself had shaped their visage. Every warrior wore a helm crafted as a grinning steel skull. In my time in the Ordo Xenos I have served with many Astartes Chapters, so I am familiar with the Reclusiarchs that minister to the Space Marine's spiritual needs. That was what the Revenants reminded me of, an entire company of Chaplains, arrayed as one for war. But while the spiritual leaders of other Chapters preach faith and purity through battle, the warriors of the Celerum Mortem seemed to embody only the darkness of mortality. Angels of death in the truest sense. Amongst their ranks I could see the tell tale psychic hoods of the battle psykers, Librarians permanently attached to the Company, and it was from them that the aura of despair seemed to emanate. Even after they left the flight deck, like a funeral procession marching silently into the depths of the flagship, the sense of unease lingered for some time.

 

Extract from the personal diary of Lord Inquisitor Marcus Baus. Datafile recovered with his body in the ruins of Hive Primus, Fatum II, 936.M41.

 

 

++ PHASE ONE OF DOWNLOAD COMPLETE

Edited March 17, 2013 by spacedhulk

[Spaced Hulk]

//+ INITIATING PHASE TWO

//+ ACCESSING SECONDARY DATABASE

++ COMPILING

++ DOWNLOAD BEGINS

 

 

The character of the Sword Bearers has long hindered attempts to compile detailed accounts of their deployments and campaigns. Secretive by nature, the Chapter is inherently distrustful of outsiders, with very few visitors permitted to even set foot inside their mountain fortress home. Only members of the Holy Inquisition are allowed any degree of access to the Chapter's own records, and even then only grudgingly. The location of their deployment, so far in the galactic east, also makes gathering information on the Chapter's activities highly problematic. As a result, only major actions, particularly those instigated at the request of the Inquisition, have been recorded in any level of detail. Perhaps the best example of this is the Iris Campaign (707 to 724.M41), and it is from this account that the most accurate data on the Sword Bearers can be found in recent times.

 

Extract from 'Battlefields of the Astartes', Author Unknown, 835.M41.

 

 

 

The assault team regrouped in the ruins of a small chapel. Visible through the shattered roof, the Necropolis towered above them. As tall as a hive spire, the city of the dead filled the horizon, dwarfing everything nearby with the immense scale of it's construction. Taking it would not be easy.

 

“I hear Fourth Company has taken a beating.” As always, Mathius was the first to speak. In a Chapter renowned for it's reserve, the youngster was far too verbose. The team leader was well aware of the reasons for Math's promotion, but even now he wondered if it had been premature.

 

“Aye. They dropped right. In the middle. Of a heavy infantry division.” It was Hagan who answered, his speech as slow and as laboured as ever. To be fair, the team leader thought, it must be difficult to speak with no lower jaw. The mechanical prosthesis was a poor substitute. As the oldest amongst them, Hagan had the honour of carrying a company standard, the banner pole attached to the power plant of his ancient Corvus armour.

 

“Some sort of abhuman regiment. Bionically enhanced. I hear they were nearly as ugly as you Hag.” The team leader smiled but said nothing as Aaron joined the conversation. Aaron Rolendis. The jester, his brothers called him. There were many within the Chapter who would take offence at his dry wit, but none of the warriors in this team were quite so dour. Which was fortunate, the leader thought to himself. Despite his sarcasm, the weapon specialist's skills were highly useful.

 

They were all veterans, but none yet had been elevated to the prestigious ranks of the Penitent. With only sixty suits of terminator plate in the Chapter armoury, it was often a long wait to join the First Company elite. Instead they remained with their battle brothers, leading squads, training new recruits, or, as with this campaign, forming their own units to undertake special operations.

 

“Well, we're here.” Viktor, the fifth and final member of the assault team. The haft of his power lance rested lightly across his battered shoulder guard. For reasons of his own, Viktor refused to have minor damage to his armour repaired by the Company artificers. His memoirs, that was how he described the cuts, burns and indentations that adorned the Mark 7 plate. More than once he had been admonished by the Interrogators for the state of his equipment. It seemed to have had little effect. “Where's the Captain?” He asked the question they were all thinking.

 

“He'll be here. I've never known him be late yet. Sergeant Balian finally joined the conversation. A typical son of the Marshes, he spoke rarely, and when he did, he kept his voice quiet and restrained. His brothers had long been calling him the Silent Sword, a reference as much to his personality as to the two handed power blade he wore sheathed across his back.

 

“Incoming. To the south.” Even as he spoke, Mathius was moving, aiming his scoped boltgun up towards the smoke filled sky. The team reacted instantly, taking cover amongst the rubble, bolters and combi-weapons raised towards five black specks falling towards them at high speed.

 

Only Balian remained stationary, his hand resting on the holstered boltgun at his side, staring up at the rapidly closing figures. A faint tell tale clicking, barely noticeable, indicated his helm's autosenses zooming in on the targets.

 

Speak of the devil, he thought to himself, and he will surely appear. “Stand down,” he voxed the others, “I told you he'd be here.”

 

Beneath his helm, unseen by his brothers, a frown appeared on normally impassive features.

 

“And he's not alone.”

Edited September 1, 2014 by spacedhulk

[Brother Immolator]

MOOARRRR!!!!!

[Izzuan]

MOOARRRR!!!!!

 

I'll second that!

[Spaced Hulk]

Cheers guys! Thanks for your comments so far, it's been really encouraging!

 

This latest story is the first of three parts, I think. My aim at the moment is to show the Chapter in their prime, so to speak, before things go so badly wrong for them. I'm also working on converting all the protagonists in this story (just waiting for some bits to arrive), so hopefully there'll be some more pics in the not too distant future.

[facmanpob]

Cool :tu:

[deathspectersgt7]

Want more, great read brother.

[Spaced Hulk]

 

The much documented Iris Campaign was a seventeen year crusade against the seditionist forces of the Phormian Dominion. Secession has always been a common occurrence in the Eastern Fringe, where worlds are isolated by vast distances and there are few reminders of Imperial authority. However, the rebellion of the entire Iris Sector and their rejection of the Emperor's rule was an act which could only end in the most fearsome blood shed.

 

Sometimes known as the Phormian Rebellion, the war would eventually involve the combined forces of eighty Imperial Guard regiments, two battlefleets of the Imperial Navy and three Chapters of the Adeptus Astartes. The Sword Bearers entered the conflict in 723.M41, after the rebel forces had been driven back to the cemetery world of Phormia Prime, their main military stronghold and the focal point of the Secessionist's extreme form of deluded fanaticism.

 

Extract from 'Battlefields of the Astartes', Author Unknown, 835.M41

 

They had landed half a click from the chapel. Still pretty impressive, Balian mused, considering a drop from such high altitude. The jump packs had kicked up a huge plume of dust from the parched earth, the dark cloud rendering the newcomers as little more than ghosts amongst the ruins.

 

“Should we go meet them?” Mathius asked, the zeal for battle obvious in his voice. Still so impetuous, Balian thought.

 

“No.” The team leader's tone was firm and unequivocal. “We're where we're supposed to be. They can come to us.” The five figures were moving through the dust and haze, their outlines becoming gradually more distinct as the distance closed.

 

As they waited, each of the team removed their helms. Amongst the Sword Bearers, it was customary to bare your face to your superiors.  A combat situation usually rescinded the tradition, but with this area pacified, the obeisance would be expected. They were getting closer. Balian began to mentally prepare himself. Already, he could feel the effects, and from past experience they would only worsen. Looking at the faces around him, he knew he wasn't alone in his discomfort.

 

Mathius was particularly pale. “What's going on?” The previous eagerness was gone, an involuntary shiver running through him.

 

“You haven't fought with Second Company before, have you Math?” It wasn't that unusual. After nearly eighty years of service, Balian had witnessed the Revenants in battle only a handful of times. Which was more than enough, he thought to himself. There were good reasons why they operated so independently from the rest of the Chapter.

 

“What is this?” Mathius asked again. There was a film of sweat on his brow. They were nearly upon them.

 

With so much of his lower face missing and replaced with prosthetics, it should have been impossible for Hagan to physically display emotion. Nevertheless, he managed to give a good impression of a scowl.

 

“Shadowcaster”, he growled, spitting black oil into the dust.

 

***

 

There were many rumours about the Second Company. Regrettably, in Balian's opinion, most of them were true.

 

To an outsider, they were simply a dedicated fast attack wing, no different to their counterparts in any of the Legion's Successors. That was true enough. The Revenant's used bikes, landspeeders, jump packs, anything that would get them close to their enemies as quickly as possible. And, he had to admit, they used them very well. Perhaps not quite as skilfully as the vaunted Ravenwing, but still with a flair unseen in most Space Marine chapters. Even the company's official title, Celerem Mortem, translated into low Gothic as the Quick Death.

 

However, speed was not their only speciality. Over time, they had evolved into something different, something darker. Psychological warfare had become their weapon of choice. From the death masks they each wore to the utter devastation they left in their wake, the Revenants were an instrument of intimidation, terrorising their foes even before the first shot was fired. This was not that exceptional, of course. By their very nature, all Astartes could be considered terror troops. But the Revenants had refined this natural ability and then added to it.

 

They called it the Shadow. An aura of depression, of doubt, of dread and of despair that was their constant companion. In complete discordance with the Codex, the Second Company included a large number of psychically gifted battle brothers within their ranks. Known as the Shadowcasters, their unique skills had been trained to create this psychic field at all times, shrouding the Revenants in a mantle of fear itself.

 

It was undoubtedly effective. Balian had heard stories of a single Revenant attack squad routing an entire enemy regiment, of even Orks fleeing rather than face the skull helmed warriors in combat. It was said that the most powerful Shadowcasters could summon darkness itself, and that, mounted in landspeeders, they raced across the battlefield creating an impenetrable black shroud to shield their brothers from enemy fire.

 

***

 

They were close. Finally free of the heat haze, they were now clearly visible. Four were Revenants, their usual jet black armour and shining death masks dulled by the clinging dust. The jump packs served to make them even more physically imposing, and as usual they were all heavily armed. Due to it's isolation, the Chapter frequently experienced shortages of ammunition and equipment, but Second Company never seemed to be affected. Whenever they deployed, they were invariably armed to the teeth.

 

This was no exception. Two of the skull helmed warriors were equipped with plasma guns, the live induction coils pulsing with a pale blue glow. The closest of the two also wore a pair of holstered bolt pistols, while the other had a cumbersome looking eviscerator slung at his side. They were both equipped with melta bombs, the cylindrical explosives mag locked to their armour. The third Revenant was obviously a close combat specialist, as he wore a brutal looking power gauntlet on each arm. A modular grenade launcher was attached to his right glove, and he too carried melta charges in a harness across his chest.

 

The fourth warrior was unmistakably the squad's Shadowcaster. Frost glistened across his ornate psychic hood, the arcane device frozen despite the desert's heat. He carried a force stave of blackened steel, while a similarly crafted short sword was sheathed at his hip. A wrist mounted flamer was attached to his left vambrace, leaving both hands free to use the weapons of his calling.

 

This close to the psyker, the shadow field was almost unbearable. Darkness clung to the edges of Balian's vision, and his blood burnt like ice in his veins. Concentration was difficult. Even looking at the Revenants took every ounce of willpower.

 

“How can he stand it?” Aaron murmured, staring at the fifth member of the drop team.

 

“I wish I knew”, Balian sighed.

 

***

 

It shouldn't affect them. Every time Balian encountered the Revenants, he was always left with the same thought. They were Space Marines. Fear was alien to them. As their bodies were moulded into weapons, so too were their minds. Even the possibility of doubt and despair had been expelled from their intellects.

 

But the Shadow was not a normal emotion. It was a weapon. A psychic attack that made a mockery of everything the Astartes held true. All his training and conditioning were meaningless in the face of the mental onslaught.

 

This was the reason the Celerem Mortem usually operated alone, independently of the rest of the Chapter. The Shadow, whilst devastating, was also indiscriminate. It did not distinguish between friend or foe. Amongst the Sword Bearers, only the elite warriors of the First Company served alongside the Revenants with any regularity, but whether it was their terminator plate or their unbreakable resolve which protected them, Balian did not know.

 

And this was also why the Second Company were so unpopular amongst their fellows. To serve with the Revenants was to be reminded of things long forgotten, to be made aware of the limits of even your own incredible abilities, to somehow become human once more. It was a sobering experience, and one that lingered long in your thoughts.

 

***

 

They'd stopped, thankfully, about ten metres from where the assault team stood. At that distance, the aura seemed like a physical barrier between the two squads.

 

Leaving the Revenants behind, the final member of the drop team approached. His artificer armour, still unpainted in the Chapter's colours, was a gleaming silver seemingly untouched by the dust storm around them. A power axe was held in one hand, a pristine Maximus helmet in the other. A black hood covered the warrior's head, the cowl's shade obscuring his features. Halting directly in front of Balian, the newcomer casually tucked his war helm under his left arm and threw the hood back, revealing a face perfectly at ease.

 

“Hail brothers.” His voice was calm and good humored. If the Shadow did affect Ivan Orbec, Captain of the Sword Bearers Third Battle Company, there was no outward sign.

Edited September 1, 2014 by spacedhulk

[deathspectersgt7]

 another great read brother.

[Brother Immolator]

 another great read brother.

 

+1

[Spaced Hulk]

Thanks guys, glad you liked it  Out of interest, what do you think of the Revenants? Obviously I wanted something a bit different for my Ravenwing/Second Company equivalent

Edited March 20, 2013 by spacedhulk

[katarn]

This is stunning brother. I love the feel of the Revenants, truly terrifying. I don't know of you are going to let us see any of their personalities but I think they would be a lot more menacing if you didn't.

[Spaced Hulk]

 

Death cults and ancestor worship are common throughout the Imperium, and are usually tolerated as long as the Emperor remains the principle focus of the religion. However, after the faith of the Iris sector become irrevocably corrupted, their leaders declared dominion over their worlds and independance from the Imperium in 707.M41.

 

The spiritual heart of the Phormian theocracy, the Necropolis of Phormia Prime was a vast, city sized edifice constructed to house the mortal remains of an entire sector, a mortuary complex on an immense scale. In the wake of the secession, it was adopted as the Dominion's seat of government, and so the city of the dead began to control the future of the living.

Extract from 'Battlefields of the Astartes', Author Unknown, 835.M41

"Here's our target." Orbec indicated a location on the flickering holo-map. The projecter, built into the vambrace of his artificer armour, cast the three dimensional image directly onto the cracked flagstones in front of them.

The six of them were crouched inside the chapel, the ruined walls creating enough shade for them to see the hologram clearly. Outside the walls, the glare of the midday sun was simply too bright. The Revenants had disappeared, for the time being at least, leaving them blessedly free of their effects. Mathius was still pale. The first exposure to the Shadow was always the worst.

 

"It's an artillery position," the Captain continued, "Situated on the southern foothill of the Necropolis. Twenty guns. Mainly basilisks and siege mortars."

 

"It defends the approach to the South Gate." Balian studied the topography thoughtfully.

 

"Indeed." Orbec smiled at the sergeants perception. There was a reason why he'd chosen him to lead the team. "As long as those guns are still firing, any attempt to breach the fortress from the south will be compromised. Probably fatally."

 

"So we're here to silence the guns." Viktor, always blunt and to the point.

"What about orbital bombardment?" Balian again, his gaze still focussed on the map in front of them, committing every possible detail to eidetic memory. "It would save a lot of time", he said, finally looking up from the hologram.

 

"Impossible, I'm afraid." Orbec answered, switching off the projector. "That close to the Necropolis, they're covered by the city's own void shields, which are strong enough to deflect any bombardment we could justifiably commit. An airbourne or drop assault is also out of the question, for the same reason."

"So we do it the old fashioned way" Aaron grinned, cradling his combi-bolter to his chest. The weapon's specialist had only recently returned to active duties following his injuries, and was obviously impatient to see combat once more.

 

"Correct. Be aware though, the enemy is not blind to it's importance. Resistance will be heavy." Orbec smoothly rose to his feet and replaced his war helm. The time for talking was almost past. Each member of the assault team copied him, their armour sealing shut with a mechanical hiss.

 

"The majority of Second Company are launching a bike mounted assault on the northern gate. That should hopefully divert attention away from us." Orbec unslung his power axe, the relic weapon gleaming as a beam of sunlight hit the blade. He turned to Balian. "Attack from the south west, through the grave fields. My squad will support you as necessary. When the moment is right, we will join the fray".

 

"Laminae ducantur." The Captain raised the axe in salute as he spoke the Chapter's ancestral battle oath. The blades were drawn.

 

"Gloriam aut mortis." As one the team answered him, lifting their bolters into the air as they spoke in unison. Glory or death.

 

As Orbec walked briskly away, Balian suddenly felt apprehensive. A second later, four black armoured figures emerged from amongst the ruins, falling effortlessly into pace behind the captain. But even after they had disappeared from sight, the sense of unease did not leave him.

***

 

The ogryn was massive, half again as tall as Balian and almost as broad. Iron plates had been crudely stitched into it's flesh, and each forearm ended in a shrieking chain glaive. A pacifier helm was surgically implanted into it's skull, black ocular lenses shining where the beast's eyes should have been. Strings of saliva drooled continuously from it's gaping, slack jawed maw.

 

Balian circled the brute warily, great sword in one hand, bolter in the other. A clumsy combination, as the blade was meant to be used two handed, but this would not be a contest decided by skill.

 

Suddenly the ogryn screamed, emitting a terrible, keening howl, it's whole body shaking as combat stims flooded it's blood stream. Time to end this, Balian decided. The rancid creature charged forward with it's glaives once more, but instead of parrying he adroitly sidestepped to the left, bringing his blade down in a single cut through it's right knee. As it crashed to the floor in front of him, he clinically put a three round burst through the back of it's head. He was running again before the beast had stopped convulsing, moving deeper into the graveyard towards the sound of continuous gunfire.

 

This was not going well, he thought.

Edited September 1, 2014 by spacedhulk