The Liber Cluster

[Tiberius Cato]

 

 

Especially when we do another swap party.

I have got this sudden mental image of twelve-year-old versions of us all standing in a house holding the hand (nervously in my case) of a brother from the respective Liber Chapters.

 

"Hi, I'm Olis and this is Brother Infernus."

"BURN."

"He says things like that."

 

:P

I laughed more than I should have at that!

[Captain Nameless]

Sorry that I haven't been doing that much for a while, I had a few papers to write but it was mostly the fault of my own laziness.  Anyway, I am going to flesh out the battle on Sranav now, I should have something soon.

 

And Olis, just be grateful that you're not the one bringing the Black Judge to the swap party.

[Conn Eremon]

I am under no illusions that that isn't exactly the case.

 

"And then, there was another Chapter, and they were like cyborg guys and they were like space conquistadores and everybody thought they were really cool and everyone wanted to have their cool weapons but the Chapter only let the coolest of them have them and they were super happy about it and then, and then the Chapter led everybody further away than anyone else ever ever ever has gone and then they fought this really really big war that was all *FWOOSH BANG BANG PIKOW PIKEW KERBLERRRGH* and then they all died and everyone was all 'NOOOO!'"

 

"Like Darth Vader!"

 

"Shut up, Jimmy, nobody likes those movies and nobody likes you!"

[Vesper]

Hey there. I've been reading this thread for a while and there's a ton of great stuff.

Can we still get involved in the project ?

[Conn Eremon]

Of course! Really the only thing closed off is the addition of new Chapters. So long as you are considerate of what has already been contributed and are open to having your own ideas be C&C'ed, you can contribute whatever you would like. If you would like some direction, speak up and some can be provided.

 

Have fun and welcome aboard.

[Vesper]

Inquisitors, Chapter Masters and high ranking Imperial officers, I am Ranke Orostev, Inquisitor of the Ordo Hereticus, and I've been tasked to bring a serious case for concern to your attention. The informations I'm about to give you will, hopefully, be beneficient and key to secure the fringe of the Liber Cluster, and to ensure the madness that nests there finds no shelter from His light. Keep in mind that the following report is made up from various sources, some, like informations extracted from prisonners, might prove unreliable.

 

-The Red Offering-

 

Rise to power

 

The first mention of the cancer that is now known as the Red Offering ("l'Offrande Rouge" as they sometimes call themselves, in an unbearable heretic language we're still struggling to decode) dates back to the early days of 359.M35 on the Hive Word of Gyrron Secundus, in the fringe system of Gyrron.

 

We know little for sure when it comes to the Offering's birth, and it is still shrouded in mystery. Numerous rumours are spreading in the nearby systems, claiming it might've been started on Gyrron Secundus by a lone wanderer, or that it's the work of the survivors of a Ratskin attack who were told to create it by a god of vengeance who spoke through the blood of their dead families and friends. Some even say that the Red Offering emerged from a blood red lake made of toxic wastes, acids and various solvants in the Underhive. What we know for sure is that it all started in the bowels of Gyrron Secundus' main Hive, the seat of power of the planet's aristocracy : Hive Eshilgahaï.

 

Underhive inhabitants started noticing a group of individuals, dressed in crimson red clothes and armed like gang members. Those quickly settled in the Underhive and started recruiting and expanding their territory.

 

Quickly though, the uniqueness of what seemed like yet another insignificant gang wasn't kept secret for long, and people started talking about the fact that the Offering's recruits had to give up their past identities, getting a new one during an unholy baptism in blood, or about its brutal and ruthless trainings, its iron discipline, the bloody rituals to a god of war and its agressive behaviour towards the other gangs of the Underhive. We can now say that they were witnessing the development of a warrior-cult dedicated to the blood god.

 

The cult wasn't particularly hiding itself, and if the Planetary Governor Orlandus Vos had been as vigilant as the Emperor demands, it could've been quickly purged by Arbites forces before reaching a critical mass. But it wasn't the case, and through its brutal victories over the gangs of Eshilgahaï's Underhive, the Offering grew in size. Those successes gave birth to a fearsome reputation as the cult spread, conquering new territories and phagocyting vanquished populations. Yet, bloodshed wasn't the only way for the Red Offering to promote itself. Its followers spoke to the hivers of freedom and supremacy through strength and courage alone, of the weakness of their masters and of the righteous path to glory through violence. The cult gave examples of its views by helding violent fights to the death, and by punishing criminals and wrongdoers in bloody and spectacular ways. The Offering's ideology spread like wildfire and many a hiver gave up his former identity to be reborn in the Red Offering.

 

Six years after the first signs of the cult's exitence, Inquisitor Judas Barhenly ended up discovering it by pure coincidence while residing on Gyrron Secundus. He tried to put an end to the Red Offering who was, by that time, in control of the most part of the Underhive and of entire parts of the Hive itself. Barhenly gathered most armed forces of Gyrron Secundus in order to purge Eshilgahaï. Gyrron Secundus had a prestigious military past and had great ressources. Yet, the Offering was unlike anything the world had seen.

 

Gathering the Arbites and the greater part of the PDF, Barhenly, uncaring of the civilian population he considered tainted, engaged in a brutal conflict he called the Battle of Eshilgahaï. Thousands died in the first days. Imperial tanks roamed the streets while cultists waged a ruthless guerilla. The fighting was intense, but the lack of heavy weaponry set the cultists in trouble each time armoured elements were sent by the Imperial commanders.

 

When it seemed the forces of Barhenly had taken the upper hand, the cult revealed the importance of its influence as regiments and armoured divisions of the PDF turned against their allies, slaughtering them in the name of the Red Offering.

 

The progress made by the Imperial forces was mostly lost, some parts of the Hive previously considered pacified were now occupied and fortified by forces of the cult, while its main forces were now counter-attacking.

 

A month and a half after the start of the Battle of Eshilgahaï, the Imperial army was reduced to a few hundred soldiers and Arbites. The Offering had unveiled cells in the three other Hives of the planet, and the spaceport had fallen by treachery. Barhenly, cut from the outside, his forces under siege, resolved to die fighting for the Emperor. Which he did when the walls of his base were overrun by cultists.

 

The rest of Gyrron Secundus fell in the hands of the Red Offering without noticeable resistance in the closing days of 345.M35.

 

After this great victory, the cult evolved to better serve its new objectives. Inheriting the substantial military ressources of Gyrron Secundus, the forces of the Red Offering started to look like a bestial copy of the Imperial Guard, with carmine fatigues.

 

Expansion

 

With the influence of the Imperium being at best thin around the Gyrron system, the Red Offering was free to spread and conquer the neighbouring planets. While cells appeared on many of those, to prepare the invasion, the cult rushed to the minor Forge World of Senlo, overruning it quickly in order to secure a way to feed it's expantionist agenda. As of now, the cult controls at least eleven worlds throughout three systemos, it has milions of well trained soldiers and an unknown number of growing cells in unsuspecting worlds. It doesn't seem like the warrior-cult is about to slow down anytime son.

The cult suffers from an overall lack of a powerful fleet. Many of their ships being modified Imperial transports or armed freighters. The Red Offering constantly tries to capture new ships to increase its fleet's size. Wolfpack formations raid shipping lines, trying to board Imperial vessels to slaughter the crew. The Red Offerive proves to be a highly adaptable enemy, as it is quickly able to mutate in order to overcome new difficulties. Analysts fear the day their piratical behaviour finally grants them a fleet powerful enough to endanger Imperial Navy efforts.

 

Organisation

 

The members of the cult come from diverse horizons. Some might be PDF renegades, pirates, hivers, mutants, etc. The cult trains all of its members, so that any cultist knows how to make good use of a gun and of his kharba (a long blade that is given to him during his baptism in blood). The forces of the Red Offering are composed around a fearsome base of infantry. The armoured divisions of the warrior-cult operate the same way Imperial Guard does, so I wont bother you with that subject, and I'll focus on infantry. So far, four kinds of infantry regiments have been identified.

 

Aspirants

The aspirants are made up of those who just entered the cult, or those of higher ranks that have failed the cult. Often inexperimented, they tend to bleed a lot, for they are tasked to engage the enemy at close range or in hand-to-hand combat, trying to overrun them.

 

Klav

A "klav" is the equivalent of an Imperial Guard regiment. The cultists that form those klavs are well trained and well equiped soldiers. Their determination and the tactical acumen of their leaders shouldn't be underestimated. The klavs can also rely on their heavy weapons and other specialists, which makes them a polyvalent fighting force on the battlefield.

 

Carnivores

Carnivores are motorized troops brought to the front line in Chimeras, so they can engage in bloody hand-to-hand combat where they shine thanks to their greater kharbas. They are bloodthirsty fanatics and brutal assault troops that only dread to displease to their leader or to their god. They are also the only ones in the Red Offering allowed to wear black fatigues, for they are marked for death.

 

Vampires

Vampires are the shock troops of the Red Offering, sometimes being used as pretorian guard for key members of the cult. Estimations place their numbers at a few tens of thousands at best. They are the most trained fighters of the cult and get the best equipment such as carapace armour and hotshot lasguns. They are polyvalent elite troops that can be deployed behind enemy lines in order to spread terror, assassinate a target, destroy an objective, or be fielded on the front line to spearhead an assault.

 

The religious aspect of the cult is incarned by totemic warriors called "Blood Shamans". Even if the cult slays every psyker it can find, the Blood Shamans seems to use the powers of the Warp through strange chimes and talismans marked by the blood god.

 

The Red Offering appears to have a vaguely pyramidal hierarchy. If it possess more or less classical military ranks, it also has an original parallel hierarchy that seems, to a certain point, intertwined with the first one. To make things simple, every member of the cult can become a Khor, an honorific rank earned through battle prowess and courage. Khors seems to often be considered when it comes to replace an officer or to get responsabilities.

 

At the head of the cult is the Khoros. A mysterious figure said to be in direct contact with Khorne himself. He leads the cult militarily, religiously and politically. They say he is a colossal muscular man, clad in a brass armor covered with dark runes and a great set of nail-like spikes on which he put the eyes of those he killed. He is said to use a huge two-handed cleaver capable of spliting a tank open. Prisonners also tell us that the Khoros is surrounded by a bodyguard made of handpicked Khors who renounce to the possibility to one day become Khoros themselves, in order to devote their lives to the protection of their leader. According to captured cultists, the death of a Khoros is meaningless, for a Khor will be chosen to replace him. He'll lose his identity and his new name in order to fully become the Khoros. By taking the armour of his predecessor, he'll grow in size, and will end up being a perfect copy of the previous leader. Some even say that the Khoros is the armour, and that the person inside it only fuels it.

 

 

I hope I haven't made too much spelling mistakes and stuff like that.

 

EDIT : fixed typos and stuff.

Edited July 23, 2014 by Vesper

[Olis]

An interesting little Khorne Cult you have there, Vesper. It seems to gravitate towards the more cultish part of the Blood Pact spectrum, in opposition to the mercenary leanings of Heathens Sereiki Lions, which I don't believe we have atm. Besides the overuse of 'most' or 'mostly' I don't think there are any glaring issues with the post. :)

[Vesper]

Great. I'll try to fix the overuse issue when I have some time.

And yeah, the idea was to propose something different from what people brought to the table.

[Teetengee]

I like it. Two content comments and one proofreading:

CC:

1. The Khoros reminds me of the avatar, is that intentional?

2. I feel that a Blood Shaman could and probably should at some point lead some of the fallen (but not Fallen) Angels if he/she can get his/her hands on some.

 

PC:

"Particularly" and a few other words are misspelled.

 

Good stuff.

[Vesper]

Humble apologies on the mistakes, I'll fix what I find .

The Khoros kinda is reminicent of the Avatar of Khaine, indeed. But he isn't as big as an Avatar, and the whole "spliting tanks open like a boss" might be mere rumours or superstition. He's actually a very mysterious figure, and only the higher ranks of the warrior-cult can get close to him.

Edited July 23, 2014 by Vesper

[Teetengee]

As for things people want to work on, I don't think the Angels have a homeworld/crusader fleet yet. Anyone can feel free to come up with some stuff for it. Although I suggest that it should probably be near/on pilgrimage routes.

[Conn Eremon]

2nd post has been updated to include the Red Offering. I gave it a true read just now. I did notice a few spelling errors that could be cleared up, but the lore itself is great. Khoros actually does remind me of the Eldar, as I used to (wrongfully) think of them way back in the earliest days of my introduction to the setting. I've always liked certain aspects of them that I found out I was initially wrong about, so it's nice to see them given form elsewhere.

 

If I recall correctly from seeing you post stuff elsewhere, you're a Black Legion fan. I've got some ideas on introducing Abaddon's own to the mix. If you're interested, shoot me a message and I'll let you in on what I've had in mind, maybe work something up between us.

[Vesper]

Fixed all spelling mistakes I could find.

And I'd be honoured to write about the Black Legion.

Oh, and glad you all like the Red Offering :).

Edited July 23, 2014 by Vesper

[Olis]

Here we go, the end of Nauthiz. I've consulted with helterskelter on this and he seems okay with it. As always, C&C more than welcome.

 

Awaiting Doom

 

With the bridge a ruin, Nauthiz sat in the command throne grimly assessing the situation. The Enginarium was gone. Most of the gun batteries were silent and many decks were open to the airless void. Condemnator, Objurgation’s Errand and Providence of Terra, three of the Doomsayers’ finest destroyers, were nothing more than debris and scrap metal.

 

The ambush had taken them by surprise, an act that Nauthiz could not forgive himself for. His men and his brothers had died because he had neglected the possibility that Lion fleet elements could be here in Imperial territory. Neglected the fact that they were as aggressive as the Imperium was. The battle was brutal, but prolonged. They had accounted for every ship the Lions had attacked with, Sereiki ships darting from the dark side of a gas giant moon, hidden by geysers spouting from the surface. But they themselves had accounted for all of the vessels Nauthiz commanded, aside from the Awaiting Doom itself.

 

It galled him to do so but the distress beacon had been deployed. Short of an astropathic mayday, which was impossible with a dead astropathic choir, it was the best means for requesting aid at his disposal. Enemy boarders had yet to take the bridge but, when they tried, they would not get it. This he vowed.

 

As if on cue, with cruel theatrical timing, the doors to the bridge were breached. Only Brothers Calamis and Convisia were with Nauthiz in holding back the tide – two heavily built Kodiaks led the way followed by a veritable horde of cackling Hyenas. Nauthiz knew of the Kodiaks, they matched Astartes in size and displayed considerable strength. But they were also slow, unlike the Doomsayers they faced. Calamis gutted the Kodiak he fought with, his power sword making a mockery of the heavy carapace plating the Kodiak wore. His return strike beheaded the brute. He then turned to face a pack of Hyenas.

 

Hyenas. Never as large as the Kodiaks but augmented in ways that often made them tougher to handle than other mortals. They were never going to best an Astartes in single combat, even when a Kodiak stood the chance to, but that wasn’t the point. They hunted in packs. Never alone and certainly not in twos or threes. Always, always packs. That was how they bested Astartes. Weight of numbers.

 

They killed Convisia with a thousand cuts, aiming for soft joins or damaged armour plating. He didn’t go down easily but he still died. Nauthiz felt his expression harden further, weighting the thunder hammer in his hands. He didn’t see Calamis fall but the veteran's fury had abated, falling silent even as Nauthiz engaged with the enemy.

 

His first swing demolished the leading vanguard of Hyenas. The backswing crippled the other Kodiak by ruining the wretch's legs. A ceramite boot ended his pitiable squalling. After that, the melee felt unreal, like it was happening to someone else. Nauthiz watched as his body beat back the horde, taking the sorts of punishment that they could not. Over as many minutes, Nauthiz took ten steps back. He now stood by the command throne, bleeding and battered. An axe had lodged itself deeply in his chest plate, forcing his second heart to pick up the slack. Lips slick with rich, dark blood bubbling from his ruined lungs, he continued to bleed from several lesser wounds. The augmented astartes physiology could only do so much, and Nauthiz felt weaker by the minute.

 

A smile crept across the Chapter Master's face. Another rush was forming and he knew this was his fate. To die on the bridge of the Awaiting Doom. He sat down, content in knowing that these enemies of the Emperor would die just as surely as he would. This was his bridge and his ship. Thunder Hammer at rest across his lap, Nauthiz called up a display inside his helm, bringing to life a final bridge protocol.

 

The command “PURGE?” flashed up. The laughing Hyenas closed in, eager to claim him. His smile grew.

 

“Doom on you!” He cried.

 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

The stink of burnt promethium, an acrid tang every Conflagrator grew to love in their first years, was strong here. The Awaiting Doom felt like a tomb of a ship, populated by dead men. Every system, including the warp engines, had either been shut down, damaged beyond use or hibernated from lack of input. What had actually happened here?

 

The Conflagrator boarding party passed the burned husks of many Doomsayer menials and serfs as they moved through the command decks but, much more satisfyingly, as they neared the bridge there had to be scores of Sereiki Lion corpses twisted and curled by the inferno. These were not simple 'Coyotes' judging by their equipment. Cooked off grenades and munitions left many bodies with self inflicted wounds.

 

The wreck of a cruiser, one of the Sereiki fleet no doubt, floated past a stained glass window as the Awaiting Doom continued to slowly spin on its axis. Captain Kandallius assumed the Lions had ambushed the Awaiting Doom and boarded it, selling their own ship for the price of taking an Astartes vessel. The Doomsayers had struck the enemy in the command tower and the engines – there was little chance that the crippled foe could’ve done anything more than fire at opportune moments into the black. With no guiding commands and no manoeuvring, each gun was reliant on its own field of fire to put effective shots on their foe. The Doomsayers knew this.

 

The Awaiting Doom had been swamped with boarders, Hyenas and possibly Kodiaks, making their way to the vital areas of the ship. Facing Doomsayers though, they had a tough fight. The enginarium was expectedly a scene of slaughter with all but a scant few Hyenas killed in the battle. These last wretches were disposed of in short order by Techmarine Lumios and the squad supporting him. He had counted fifteen dead Doomsayers there.

 

On the bridge itself there was only one truly important detail: Chapter Master Nauthiz had died here. His body, beneath the soot and the burning, had taken such punishment that it was difficult to identify the markings adorning his plate. Furrows from blades and craters from ranged weaponry pock marked the suit, compromising it in a dozen places. The power axe jutting up from the chest of Master Nauthiz looked to be the culprit of a mortal blow, perhaps enough to have killed the chapter master. It mattered little for the Lions. They had burned for their temerity. The Captain’s lip curled upward at the thought. 

 

Kandallius stared at the corpse, wondering if it was worth committing the already-charred body to another pyre. With Nauthiz and every Doomsayer between here and Nabaretti dead, it fell to Kandallius to make a claim: A Right of Salvage. The Awaiting Doom would fight on, even if no Doomsayer could. As far as he was aware, the chapter was truly dead.

Edited July 24, 2014 by Olisredan

[Aegnor]

Gods of the Warp, I get super busy at work for a few days and come back to find a novels worth of stuff written! :)

 

Genuinely sad to see the Sons meet their end. I haven't read all the new stuff yet, but on quick skims, looks like some quality there as well.

 

I know there's a swap party coming up, but if I get time, I might try to do a little more about the Iron Ravagers to give them a bit more character. Compared to some of the chapters here, so far they feel a bit bland in terms of being clones of the Iron Hands.

[Reyner]

Someone said Fallen and Angels in the same sentence. I had an urge to suddenly check this thread... Sorry guys I've been busy at work and planning some stuff for my wedding so not had much time! I still need to collaborate with the Judges and get a battle done, I will try get it sorted soon :)

[Teetengee]

There may have been the effort of a Fallen Angel at work in the fall of our Angels Exultant. ;)

[Olis]

The Conflagrator post has been updated, including the stories I've created, the attack on Zavatista and Lord Hellfyre's bio. I've also taken time to add a note on the chapter being Nikaea Edict adherents.

[Nomus Sardauk]

Hey guys, sorry for the delay but here's the first half of my next post, I'll try to add the second part as soon as possible but I just thought I'd post this now otherwise I'll never get round to it.
Hope you all enjoy it!

-----

"-Withdraw to the thunderhawk, we need to leave now!" The vox-bead crackled weakly, quickly followed by a sudden roar of noise before the line died. It's purpose served, the ceramite-clad hand that held the vox-bead casually discarded it as the hand's owner turned to face the wounded form of Captain Grant. The Captain lay on his stomach, trapped by rubble from the explosions that had heralded the Lions' ambush, a paticularlly large length of rebar was impaled through his right shoulder, pinning him to the floor like an insect in a collector's display case.

"Well, that takes care of that." Rumbled the figure, it's voice was like granite, hard and coarse. Clad from head-to-foot in hodgepodge power armour of unpainted ceramite and bearing a Bolter and Narthecium, the Serekei Lion gazed disintrestingly down upon the immobile Eagle Captain, who glared back with a seething rage rendered impotent by his entrapment.

"Reckless and foolhardy, your Chapter's reputation preceeds you Captain. To think wretches such as you pass for Astartes in the Imperium. How the mighty have fallen..." The Renegade chuckled, watching as Grant struggled in vain to rise. "Nnngh, laugh while you can, filth... My brethren are not so, nrrr, easily vanquished..." He growled through clenched teeth as one of the Kodiak troopers nearby approached the traitor Apothecary.

"Lord, we've uncovered and captured the last of the Imperials as ordered."

"Good. What's their status?"

"Excluding this one, sixteen with minor injuries, eight heavily injured, twenty-two dead. Six of the dead are beyond salvage."

Salvage? Grant thought to himself as he eavesdropped on the exchange, lacking any other viable options at present. Wait, that only adds to fourty-six of my brothers. Where are the other four?

"Mmm, a good catch, the Ashen will be pleased. Prepare the equipment and begin extracting the Gene-seed from the dead, they won't be needing it anymore."

"And the survivors?"

For a moment, no reply came. The Apothecary turned his helmeted face towards the Kodiak, this time his voice was low and cruel. "What survivors?"

"Yessir," The Kodiak cocked his stolen Hellgun, smirking beneath his helm. "no survivors here sir..."

"Honourless Curs!" Grant snarled, dearly wishing he could reach his Plasma Pistol underneath the rubble. "You dare touch them and I'll-" His threat was swiftly interrupted as the Kodiak's boot connected with his face, a dull crack signalling his nose being broken. "Ha! I always wanted to do that..." The soldier laughed, then turned away to rejoin his squad. The Apothecary looked back at Grant, blood flowing freely from his nose.

"Fear not Captain, you and your brothers' Gene-seed will be preserved. We're not those Chaos-worshipping savages, we're not going to sacrifice them on an altar or eat them. No no no, Gene-seed is far too precious for that..."

The sudden crack of a hellgun shot echoed through the chamber, behind the Apothecary Grant watched in silent horror as he saw Brother Revere slump forward, a smoking hole drilled neatly through his forehead. "...Besides, the Lions can always use more Astartes."

Almost immediately a trio of Kodiaks moved to the still-warm corpse as the shooter moved to the next prisoner, two of them rolled the body onto it's back while the third prepped a device Grant vaguely recognised as a stripped-down Narthecium, modified for use by unaugmented humans. The Narthecium-Kodiak quickly mounted the device atop Revere's chest, aiming it for the Progenoid located within, his hand reached for the activation rune...


BLAM

...The Kodiak's head exploded suddenly in a shower of crimson.

Without warning Bolter fire suddenly roared from the numerous doorways in the room, scything through the startled Lions as they reeled in shock, frantically seeking cover. The traitor Apothecary quickly moved to shelter himself, barking orders at his mortal allies as he tried to restore discipline and organise a defence. His leadership did indeed rally the Lions as the Kodiaks quickly reformed their fireteams and began to lay down tidy, successive barrages of suppressive fire, their training overtaking their instinct to flee.

"Keep firing you vermin! Push them back or I'll gut you myself!" The traitor bellowed, squeezing off potshots here and there with his Bolter as Grant watched his would-be saviours slowly pull back on their side of the doors. The Lions advanced after them, still pouring volley after volley through the portalways for fear of another attack. However in their fixation none of them noticed the far wall of the room behind them beginning to glow and bubble. With a roar of noise the wall exploded, an incandescent beam of pure heat slagging the metal and vaporising several unlucky Kodiaks on the other side as an immense shape, easily three times the size of a marine, stepped through the breach to tower over the stunned renegades.

"TREMBLE SWINE. FOR DEATH HAS ARRIVED, AND IT COMES IN SCARLET-CLAD."

Edited July 29, 2014 by SanguiniusReborn

[Nomus Sardauk]

Part.2

-----

Contemptor, the word echoed through Grant's mind as the immense war engine emerged from the smoke. It's blessed hull was brightly painted in scarlet and white, left arm ending in a crackling Power Fist while the right bore a still-smoking Multi-Melta. On it's chest was mounted the sculpted figure of a beautific angel, wings spread wide to frame the machine's head socket. Grant couldn't help but be reminded of similiar figures he had read were once fitted to the bow of sea-going vessels on ancient Terra to ward off evil spirits. In one hand the angel held a trident and in the other, a round shield upon which an open scroll proudly displayed a name: Nelson.

"I HAVE COME TO DESTROY YOU."

The Multi-Melta hummed into life once more, taking aim with a speed & grace no machine should possess as Ancient Nelson unleashed another burst of scalding death into the outflanked Serekei Lions, vaporising several Kodiaks with each deadly flash. Bolter fire boomed from behind the venerable warrior as Tactical marines carrying slab-like Boarding Shields stormed into the chamber, their shots targetting the Lions closest to the Eagle captives as some sought to use the Astartes as human shields. The Sentinels would have none of it however, quickly enveloping the Eagles within their shield wall whilst a quartet of azure-clad marines the Captain quickly recognised as his missing brothers freed their kin of the bonds.

"ARISE NOW LITTLE COUSINS, ONLY IN DEATH DOES DUTY END!"

Suddenly Grant felt the rubble pinning him lift away, rising slightly he looked up to stare straight into the icy-blue eye lenses of Ancient Nelson, the old machine tossing away the fistful of shattered rockcrete and plasteel as he shielded the Captain from the sporadic enemy fire.

"Urgh, my thanks Ancient, I feared myself doomed to watch my brothers die." He grunted, clutching the bloody hole in his shoulder as he struggled into cover beside his fellow Eagles who had recovered their weapons and were now extracting vengeance upon their former captors as best their injuries would allow.

"SAVE YOUR GRATITUDE CAPTAIN, THERE SHALL BE TIME FOR PLEASANTRIES ONCE THE FOE LIES DEAD BEFORE US AND THIS STATION IS DISABLED."

"Agreed, but first I have an insult to avenge..." The Captain hissed, drawing his Plasma Pistol from it's holster he quickly spied out the Kodiak that had broken his nose desperately trying to rally his men in the face of this new threat. In one swift, practised motion Grant rose from his cover, took aim and fired; a small bolt of liquid starfire lancing forth from his gun barrel and across the room as the traitor turned to face the threat, far far too late to react. Grant smirked in grim satisfaction as he watched the traitor's upper torso and head explode, honour was satisfied.

"Redeem yourselves Eagles! One Imperium, under the Emperor! Charge!" He roared, snatching his Power Sword from the floor where it had fallen in the earlier ambush, he charged forward as his brothers followed suite, voices raised in a ferocious warcry. Even Ancient Nelson and the Sentinels joined them, guns blazing.

"FORWARD SCARLET SENTINELS, NULLI SECUNDUS!" Nelson bellowed, his adamantine form thundering into the Lions' midst like a meteor, Power Fist pulping bodies left and right as the Sentinels stowed their boltguns, drew their combat knives and barreled into the fray. The Kodiaks may have been the Lions' elite human soldiers but even they could not stand against such fury, one by one they fell as the combined Astartes brutally slaughtered them with bolt, blade and fist.

 

Cutting his way through the melee Grant spotted his prize, the Apothecary who had threatened to steal his beloved Primarch's genetic legacy and turn it against the holy Emperor. Such a crime demanded only one response: death. Time to carry out the sentence, He thought to himself.

 

"Face me Traitor! Or do you fear a wretch such as me able to best you?!"

 

"Grrr, warp take you lap dog! I may die this day, but I shall at least have the pleasure of taking your accursed head first!"

 

Swiftly the Apothecary turned to face the charging Captain, opening up on full auto with his boltgun but Grant saw it coming. As he sprinted forward he snatched a nearby Kodiak from the fray, wielding the hapless renegade as a shield, bolt shells blasting bloody craters from the mortal's flesh. Grant smiled as the Apothecary's magazine ran dry with a click, this was his chance. With a heave he launched the Kodiak's broken corpse forward, obscuring the traitor's vision as he brought his Power Sword up in a shimmering arc. The Lion was canny however, discarding his useless bolter as he sidestepped the flung body, drawing a vicious-looking combat blade with his right hand while activating the whirring chainblade on his narthecium. Both blades met Grant's sword in a flash of sparks and energy, blocking his blow.

 

"Bah! Such predictable moves, is this the best the Imperium can offer?!"

 

"Look again scum."

 

The Lion's gaze slowly lowered, his eyes stared in horror down the barrel of Grant's plasma pistol.

 

"This is from Brother Revere."

 

BLAM

[Tiberius Cato]

I was instantly inspired and wrote a tonne haha. Here it is:

 

Grant eyed the now headless corpse of his former captor, his mighty chest filling with rage and anger. He desired vengeance against these pirate scum. He turned and observed the scene, many of his brothers lay wounded, some worse off, amongst the rubble and the corpses of the Kodiak. His rage subsided and his twin hearts began to fill with grief; he had lost men whom he fostered an intensely close bond with, it was now his duty to ensure their legacy would continue and he set about harvesting the progenoid glands with his four remaining brothers.

 

Ancient Nelson strode over to Grant.

 

"Your loss is felt, I have seen the loss of hundreds of my brethren in my time, Brother-Captain. You can not allow this to hinder the deliverance of the Emperor's Wrath. Together, we shall purge the cluster of these swine."

 

"Many thanks Honoured-Brother Nelson. You have my thanks for coming to the rescue of my brothers and myself. We are greatly indebted to you and your kinsmen."

 

The remaing Eagles had finished harvesting the geneseed and awaited their captain's orders.

 

"Honoured-Brother, how fares the battle outside?"

 

"Many vessels have appeared out of warpspace and seek to flank our forward cruisers in vain. We are holding off the smaller vessels but are having difficulties with their strike cruisers hitting us from multiple sides."

 

Grant's hearts stopped for a moment, he wasn't sure he heard that right; A mighty Scarlet Sentinel admiting difficulty in void warfare. He thought to himself this was the perfect chance to improve the reltaionship between the chapters.

 

"Men, we shall make haste to the Philedelphia to resupply and to board the ships of these renegades. The day shall be won through the combined efforts of the Sentinels and us!" He turned to the ancient "Take your men and return to your fleet Honoured-Brother, they're going to need your assistance. Until we meet again, gloriam imperator." With that the forces returned to their respective fleets and prepared for the coming conflict.

++++++++++++++++

Upon returning to the Philadelphia, Grant had ordered all Astartes to the reclusiam, these men needed to reenforce their faith after the loss of many brothers and their captain. With all the astartes gather the head chaplain had begun the sermon. He preached of marching through hellfire and perservering in impossible odds, then moved on to a breif memoriam of the lost Captain Biddale and the other fallen brothers. After the service, each man cut the palm of their hand and swore a blood oath to avenge their fallen captain and brothers. Grant the stood center stage, ready to take his men to glory.

 

"Here we stand, in the face of grim losses and odds that would see mortal men destroyed. Brother-Captain Biddale has been lost to the cowardly bombs placed by the renegades. We shall not let him die in vain. Be prepared, for we are going to tear a bloody hole through the renegade fleet so that they may truly know the power of the almighty Eagles of Glory! Steel yourselves men, for tonight we dine in hell! ONE IMPERIUM, UNDER THE EMPEROR!"

The reclusiam exploded with cheers from the men, inspired to action by the words of the captain. Their vengeance would be felt by the renegades this day.

[Teetengee]

beautiful? or beatific?

also I was scrolling and lost my spot after "the reclusiam exploded" which was a little awkward.

 

Great work both of you!!!

[Conn Eremon]

Been lazy a bit again, so I figured I'd post up what I have. 4th post is updated. I haven't gone through it to clean it up, and I haven't grabbed the images yet, but I will eventually.

[Tiberius Cato]

It's cool Cormac, everyone gets to be a bit lazy every now and then. Especially when your the head of a massive community project.

[Olis]

Had a little bit of a think and I would like to make an incident (no, not that kind of incident): As stated in Lord Hellfyre's bio, the Conflagrators have a bit of a barney with more than one Chapter over Goge Vandire (firstly when they were Pro-Vandire and then after they turn and become raving mad at who they now consider a heretic and the forces who side with him).

 

It won't be anything too long, probably, but I'd like to fill out this downtime between events/swaps with something interesting. Anyone want to volunteer for it? I can guarantee you that I won't push for a 'win' for the Conflagrators if it doesn't feel right. What I want is basically some drama - 'winning' is not exactly a prime motivator here. Casualties would preferably include someone important(ish). ;)