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+++In Memoriam: Update+++

Marshal Rohr

By Marshal Rohr
in + WORKS IN PROGRESS +

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Noctus Cornix Venerable Brother

Noctus Cornix

Posted
Posted

http://i421.photobucket.com/albums/pp299/spencertrimm/reaver.png

 

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mRuTkB9L5jc

 

 

 

“We live as we dream--alone....”

-Albian Philosopher 'Joseph'

 

 

 

 

 

Day 30

 

 

He was drowning. Within the confines of his own helmet, the broken warrior spat and wheezed with indignation, a constant cycle of spewing out the blood, saliva, and regurgitated nutrition paste that had welled up beneath that blackened helm. It was only for a fleeting moment, head brought low so he could take but a single breath before the sloshing mess once more submerged the lower half of his face. His vision swam, a mixture of exhaustion, blood-loss, and shame hazing his trans-human mind into a pathetic thing capable of only one thought. “Keep moving…” He needed to remove his him, to take a gasp of fresh air, without the constant mortifying threat of being slain by his own vomit. But he reminded himself once more that he was not safe. The Outriders of the Khan still hunted him, and the V Legion would not stop until he was but a corpse alongside his brothers. No. He had to keep moving… A trail of crimson hand-prints followed his path, smeared and dragged along what little remained of the now abandoned hab-units that betrayed his location. It was only on occasion, using the only armed that remained for support when he felt that his legs might cave beneath him, an alternating switch between the walls at his side or the gaping wound in his side from where the a Twin-linked bolter had scythed a Night Lord in half, and had nearly done the same to him…

Brother Vox-Master Lorenth was part of an extinct breed, the very last of the CXXVII. It had been 29 hours from his last contact with any brothers of his company. He recalled the final broadcast, a chilling whisper that still lingered in the back of his mind as he heard the growling voice of Line Sergeant Joutunn over the vox-link.

“We have been forgotten… We are the dead.”


And all that came after was pure static.. He had abandoned his Nuncio Vox Caster 7 hours ago, after 22 hours of constant white noise, the damaged mechanisms finally caved. He knew it was only weighing him down further, and he needed to keep moving..

He was going to die. Of that he was certain. Even the remarkable feats of the Trans-human physiology had ceased to clot his blood now, each time his only remaining arm reached down to grasp hold in a jolt of pain adding a fresh coat of crimson to his palm and yet another crumb on his trail for the White Scars to find him.. He would die of either blood loss, or perhaps the Outriders would find him and gun him down the way they did his brothers… But still, he had to keep moving. One single goal remained in the back of his mind, a single goal that kept him moving. Someone had to know. He had to find his brothers and told them what happened, that the floodgate was an ambush, that the Defenders had slaughtered them all… Something, anything to keep him from just hurdling over and dying upon the floor like some pathetic mortal.. He was a son of the Great Warmaster, beloved by all. He would not die without his death meaning something..

That hope quickly faded from his grasp with the crack of a bolter and a sharp scything pain in his right knee. He fell as so many of his brothers had before, his dark green armoured form cast upon the rubble beneath him as his severed leg collapsed 3 meters away. Lorenth did not so much as scream, so worn by pain and exhaustion that the agony barely even registered in his fractured skull. He tried to bring himself up, a single hand grasping ahold of the ground beneath him and with lumbering agony, he pulled himself up from the ground before collapsing with his back rested upon a shattered column. His first instinct was to reach for his weapons, but his bolter had been shattered by an Imperial Fist power maul and his sidearm had left him along with his missing arm. So, with no means to defend himself, the broken warrior clutched at the seals of his helm and slowly tore away his helmet, not caring what damage he did to his bionic optics. He was going to die anyway, so why did it matter…

Finally he could breath, coughing and spitting out the bile and blood from his mouth to take in the choking air of the dying planet. Better than drowning, he supposed. His eyes moved through the blur, one eye swimming in a haze of pain while the other focused in and out through a cracked lens. When his sight finally came to him, he was met with surprise and crimson eyes. It was not the Sons of Khan who had found him, not Warriors in snow-white armour but black, dark as the void itself.. There were 10, black figures perched upon the rooftops and balconies of surrounding him. So was it the last bastard wraiths of the Raven Guard?

Only one eye widened when he saw the heraldry these pursuers wore, an unblinking eye of gold staring back at the young Cthonian. Sons of Horus, black armoured warriors with growling jump packs and massive bolters surrounded him, encircling his body like vultures. For a moment, his twin hearts leapt in joy, a salvation for him to depart his final words to a brother and so he may die with honour… That was of course until he saw that one of the 10 vultures was holding a bolter still smoking from a recent spent shell.

“Look at what we have here… A long lost little cur… Trying to find the rest of your pups, or did you run away?...” One of the Black armoured warriors spoke up first, his weight shifting with a rattle of skulls chained to his shoulder.

“I’d say he just forgot how to use his claws, seeing how he’s missing a few.” It was another who spoke up, this one brandishing a vicious looking power axe that he seemed to be inspecting.

Lorenth could not help but express his confusion upon his paling features, his breath caught in the back of his throat as he fumbled for words. “B-brothers… What is the meaning of this? I am Vox-Master Lorenth of the CXXVII, Second Squad.. Where is your captian?.. I have news of the floodgate.”

Yet the vultures did not respond to his words, speaking amongst themselves through a series of vox-link clicks and audible jeers at his own expense.
“We haven’t seen any of these mutts left since yesterday.. Not since we came across that pathetic Sergeant.”
He overheard one say, eye flinching as he followed the marine’s line of vision to see another warrior wielding an axe, a Mk III helm bearing the dark green colors of Horus’ own Legion upon his belt. For the barest moment, Lorenth felt a twinge of fear. Traitors? Turncoats?.... With nothing left, he spoke up once more, this time using the last of his strength to speak. “I am Vox-Master Lorenth of the CXXVII, Second Squ-“

“Shut up, pathetic cur. We don’t care about you or your dead kindred... I say we just kill him and get it over with..”

“Hold your tongue, Darius, these are still our brothers.”

“Oh come off it already… We are not brothers with these worthless vermin..”

“What say you, Skinwalker?...”

All eyes turned to a single figure now, a warrior wearing ornate armour adorned in human skins with a stylized topknot rest upon his helm. Only he was gazed upon Lorenth now, crimson lenses staring piercing the broken warrior with a sense of dread that he had never felt before…

“The Shadowed Hand made his orders clear. There will be no witnesses.”
 

 


http://i915.photobucket.com/albums/ac352/Noctus-Cornix/WP_000099_zpscc0a2e3c.jpg

 

http://i915.photobucket.com/albums/ac352/Noctus-Cornix/WP_000100_zps6ca234c2.jpg

 

 

Pict Capture 2U3NX/2J-3 Vox Master Lorenth

 

XVI Legion CXXVII Line Infantry

 

Legionary Lorenth was a relatively young Warrior like many of CXXVII, having served little time in the Great Crusade and thus owing little loyalty to the Emperor and the Imperium. A fiercely loyal warrior, Lorenth prided himself upon his sense of duty and honour in every aspect of the Legion. For this, he held no burden of grudge when he was selected as vox-master, a task many of his brothers to found tedious and cumbersome in the heat of battle. Legionary Lorenth was among the few marines who survived the Raptari Floodgate ambush, survivors who were ruthlessly hunted down by White Scar outriders. It is assumed that Lorenth was the last of his Company, every other member confirmed KIA or MIA until his estimated demise. The Sons of Horus Legionary was found KIA 3 hours after his estimated death. Initial reports from the Outrider team that located his body describe the Corpse to be lying rested upon a broken column, his right leg severed by a precise bolt round to the soft armour in the knee joint and his head ruptured by a second bolt round, likely from the same bolt shot.

 

Investigations were made in the event of this strange death in light of recent assassination of Chief Captain Tengri of the V Legion who at the time of his murder held command of a substantial defending force in the outer outer walls and held off the Attackers for 5 days longer than any flanking defending forces. Autopsy report indicates the bolt shrapnel  extracted from Legionary Lorenth's corpse was of an unknown ammunition variant, the same extracted from the mutilated corpse of Chief Captain Tengri. Examination of the Legionnaire's pict-recorder shows most of the footage to be damaged and unusable. A single millisecond of footage was found at the estimated time of his death. Footage has been stilled into Pict Capture. Image is still too blurred to extract any useful information. Further investigation is required.

 

http://i915.photobucket.com/albums/ac352/Noctus-Cornix/04fe344c-d6a2-4839-9df0-665eed8e0946_zps61ae7316.jpg

Noctus Cornix Venerable Brother

Noctus Cornix

Posted
Posted

http://i915.photobucket.com/albums/ac352/Noctus-Cornix/WP_000101_zps14c447dd.jpg


 


Pict Capture 2U3NX/2J-4 Subject Unknown


 


Previous Pict Cature extracted from the Hololithic-Recorder drive located in the damaged visual optics of Legionary Lorenth (KIA).


Hololithic drive was badly damaged by bolter shrapnel. Single Pict Capture was extracted though poorly focused.


Recording handed to Investigation Tech-Marshal for screening. File transferred two days later with filtered Pict seen above.


 


Subject Name - Unknown


Legion Identification - Sons of Horus


Company Identification- Unknown


 


Initial inspection of Pict Capture reveals little information.


Subject's stylized armour and legion markings identify


him as a member of the XVI Legion, most likely of their


steadily growing 'Reaver' contingents. Subject's equipment


consists of MK IV Jump pack aswell as a designated 'Seeker'


pattern Tigrus Ferrox bolter. Subject's equipment is often unheard


of, particularly among those of Reavers who often choose close


close combat methods. No reports of XVI Legion Reaver activity


in the Raptari warzone or any neighboring sectors.


 


Further Investigation is Required.


Nomus Sardauk Venerable Brother

Nomus Sardauk

Posted
Posted

Is it at all significant that these reaving gentlemen seem to have already adopted the Black Legion colors?

 

They could be members of the Sons' First Company, as they all wore black armour as a sign of their status. Or it could just be camoflague of some kind.

Hyaenidae Venerable Brother

Hyaenidae

Posted
Posted

gallery_37532_9063_55532.jpg

http://www.blacklibrary.com/Images/BL/blog/2011/06/AoD_002_DETAIL.jpg

+ OD-Day (Terra), Plus 2 +


"Come ta meh, ye ugly Ir'n bastards! Come ta meh, an' I'll show ye how ah real Legionary lays his foes aboot!" Ridire-Sergeant Falbhe Mkenna of the XXII Watch, VII Legion, and son of Dorn, weaved amongst warriors of iron and black, his sabre snapping left and right into vulnerable throats and soft armoured wrists, his heraldic, mud-soaked loincloth slapping wetly against his leg armour. Leading an all-volunteer strike against the fresh IV Legion landing sites, the raiding party of the XXII Watch had set their sights upon anything of importance: Ammunition dumps, Officers, vehicles in process of disembarkation. Anything that would cripple or slow the Iron Warriors, that would keep their forces away from the Cho Yu Waste Ducts and the Angelis Adunatio Plaza, where their guns could reach and strike the Imperial Palace. Anything that would keep the iron-plated bastards down here, in the Ganggazhen Waste-Plains, where the acidic wastewater thick mud would eat the treads of their armour pieces, weaken ceramite plate, and neuter their artillery shells. Fire Raptor Gunships and Primaris-class Lightnings the color of Terra's old sun had supported their raid, hammering vulnerable transport craft full of highly explosive munitions, and running vicious strafing runs against squads of the CVI Battery, IV Legion, as they stumbled and slipped in the constricting mud. The XXII had assaulted before the explosions of detonating ammo crates and fuel-ruptured vehicles had settled, leaping through the fire and smoke into the teeth of a rattled and battered enemy, tossing grenades into open cupolas, and swiftly executing wounded Olympians. Eventually, though, the inevitable counter charge had hit, and it had hit harder than expected. Mkenna had ordered the party to disperse back towards friendly lines, leaving himself and a half dozen Imperial Fists to slow the Iron Warriors advance.

According to the flatlines on the cracked display of his eyelenes, he was the last. 'So be it', Mkenna thought.

Mkenna cut left and rolled in the mud, barely avoiding the swipe of a lightning-wreathed power fist, his sabre flicking out and cutting through the Iron Warrior's softer groin armour as a parting gift. Before he could glance over to see his handiwork, Mkenna got to his feet just in time to face down three more IV Legionaries, chainswords and mauls seeking to end him painfully and quickly. Mkenna took the first maul across his shoulder plate, deflected the chainsword aimed at his head with the flat of his blade, and took the second maul clean out of the fight with a downward cut, separating the Olympian's wrist from his body. Dancing back the best he could, with the ankle grabbing muck about his feet slowing his deft movements, he dodged the first mauls' next strike, and struck out himself, the graceful sabre in his grip slitting the Iron Warrior's windpipe just below his Mk. III helm. A quick cross-cut, forward and back, took the chevroned chainsword wielder out of the fight as well, Mkenna's powered blade disemboweling, then decapitating. Before the severed Mk. II helm could slap into the mud, The Ridire of the Watch slammed his boot into the visor of the last breathing foe, the one missing his hand, crushing the traitors skull within his helm with a satisfying crunch.

Before he could feel any pride from dispatching three foes in as many seconds, Mkenna was hit from behind by a titanic force that splintered his plate, spine, and fused ribcage with a sound somewhere between a lightning strike and a cathedral bell being rung. Cold darkness enveloped him as his body went into shock from the damage, only awakening as what was left of his warplate detected his vast injuries, and dumped painkillers and combat drugs into his broken body. His vision blurred and edged in pulsing red, Mkenna painfully opened his eyes, looking up at his looming killer. His first foe, the Iron Warrior with the power fist, stood over him haloed by the fires of the former landing site, the oversized gauntlet encasing his arm still crackling as it burned Mkenna's blood away from it's surface, a yellow and black bolt pistol aimed at his head. "That's how I lay my foes about, weakling." Mkenna could almost hear the Legionary smiling beneath his vox-grille. "Last words?"

Mkenna's coughed up bright red blood, before successfully speaking with his second try. "Aye, ye sorry arsed traitah...cahtch." With the last of his strength, he tossed an object at the Iron Warrior's head; with a deftness that defied the size of the giant gauntlet around his arm, the Legionary snapped it out of the air, and looked at it. The Olympian's helm recoiled back as he saw what the object was.

Ridire-Sergeant Falbhe Mkenna was still laughing wetly through the blood in his throat at the traitor's reaction when the grenade detonated.

VII Legion Organization


XXII Watch, CXVII Storm Battalion, VII Legion

The adamantium heart of the Storm Battalion, the XXII Watch consisted entirely of hardened veterans of the VII Legion. Dedicated close-order attrition fighters, the XXII Watch were the wall upon which the Storm Battalion's foes would break, to be swept up and annihilated by the Grenadiers and Airborne elements. Given the finest equipment to conduct such vicious actions, the XXII Watch were thick with Tactical Dreadnought Warplate, the finest weapons that the Legion's forges could produce, and the toughest and most brutal warriors of the Imperial Fists Legion. Historically recruiting from the tribal tek-warriors north of Albyon during the Unification Wars, the Watch still wear some of the tribal heraldic patterns upon lengths of cloth as a mark of honour to those who served before. Though centuries of war and replacements from different locations, plus the solidification of the Legion cult ceremonies after reuniting with the genic father, have distilled this somewhat, the current Commander of the XXII, Ridire-Captain Demetrius Katalfaque, has decreed that the old heraldry shall be maintained upon the Company standards until the last of the old Cruithniian Warriors have passed away. Katalfaque's promise was held true, until the end of the Siege.

::::Recovered recording:::Data-Stack 442-1::::Noospheric interface complete:::::processing request::::::Granted:::::

gallery_37532_9063_162843.png

[Pict Capture DX/32-43-875] - Ridire-Sergeant Falbhe Mkenna

One of the old Cruithniians of the XXII Watch, Ridire-Sergeant Mkenna was a Legionary whose bladework was almost as swift and sharp as his wit. With honours reaching back to the Unification, Mkenna was a beloved symbol of the old ways of the Watch; though forever rough about the edges, his dedication to his brothers, and his endless courage under fire inspiring his squad to victory after victory, no matter the wounds. Though his death early in the siege was lamented by his men, the damage and havoc he and his men caused to the CVI Battery of the Iron Warriors Legion left the artillery unit broken, forcing them to fight without their heaviest war machines and critically short of even the most common of munitions for the rest of the Siege.

ephrael Venerable Brother

ephrael

Posted
Posted

How unexpected and fantastic this update is.  Both sides of the Siege portrayed by Heathens is almost too much to ask for.  This must be where the bulk of that armor that Sigusmund secured from Mars was deployed.  I can't wait to see the Cataphractii in the VII Legion colors

Hyaenidae Venerable Brother

Hyaenidae

Posted
Posted

"been talking to god lately?"

"aye, and he's pretty sure, he can get me outta here, but, hes pretty sure, your screwed! ha! ha! ha! ha!"

 

awesome update man

 

HA! I hadn't even thought of that line.

 

Crap. Now I'm going to have to watch Braveheart. Again. For, like, the zillionth time.

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