Inspirational Friday - 17/10/2014

[Tenebris]

Welcome back my dark minions, welcome to Inspirational Friday. First, I apologize for skipping a week, though Insane Psychopath did an awesome job with his version, the single model idea is amazing and expect it to be reiterated in the future. In short well done my little lab mice, you have proven once again the perfect test subjects for us, the dark lords of the Chaos forums. Fun aside, you people did an awesome job and while there are still some contributors yet to report I love the effort you have shown in assembling and painting your models for Inspirational Friday.

 

I think that we have a winner though, a real first class this one. Let's all welcome AlanofAngels  and his superb job on his Night Lords marine. I think you win hands down, your model was great in so many details that it should be marveled (I think I will shamelessly steal your recipe for blue, I love the tone).

 

So step forth AlanofAngels and claim your due reward:

 

http://shrani.si/f/e/r4/KG83M5z/4/friday-award.png

 

Also Loesh, you can add the award too, your story about the Devine knight was really good.

 

A honorable mention goes to Kierdale and SlaveToDarkness, because... Slaanesh, Slaanesh is awesome and it is always a treat to see some miniatures painted in garish pinks. 

 

 

Now for this week I have something special in mind...

 

Inspirational Friday - 17/10/2014 - CHAOS BATTLE

 

Aye, you heard it... This week I want you to write about a fictional battle in which your warband took part. It can be a skirmish, a massacre, a genocide, a superbly planned action or a carnival of excess. Each warband is a veteran of hundreds if not thousands of such battles and sometimes such pivotal events define the very soul and character of a Chaos warband.

 

Write about the battle, why your warband took part in it, it was the attacker or the defender, or a mere opportunity. Was a victory, was a defeat? Did it crown a new champion or shattered the bonds of brotherhood, who knows perhaps it even forged new bonds... all this and so much more entails a battle. Where the battle took place, the year, the strategy behind it and the goals of your warlords. Did something memorable happen? It was a brutal clash in a poisonous jungle or a bitter skirmish in the arid plains of a daemonic world. Have the xenos used their techno magic or did the loyalist turn tail when confronted with the might of Chaos?

 

So for this week's Inspirational Friday I want you to write about a battle in which your warband took part. I want all the gory details, the shattering hopelessness and the bitter animosity radiating from this clash of arms. I want to read about heroes, villains, about victors and victims, about glory and shame, but above all I want to read about Chaos in battle, the vicious, cruel experience when a Chaos army takes the field.

 

Inspire us, my minions, and trough us you will be inspired too.  

 

 

Tenebris

[Loesh]

Thank you! I was wondering about that, but I was pretty new here and I wasn't sure if there was an award every time, I figured it'd be rude to ask.

[Kierdale]

Congratulations, Alan. Damned fine work.

 

And yes, there was a lot of pink in that last challenge! Hail to the Dark Prince!

[Slaanbull]

Alanofangels had a superb model painted up, the metal trim was superb and he rightfully ran with the award.
The freehand on Kierdales' cultist chainsword was quite imposing, as I had tried to make my own freehand sigils on my entry's shoulderpad, but failed miserably. I'll have to give it a go next time I paint up. :)
And all the Slaanesh entries, hah, the friday challenges should be Slaanesh entric this year on out just to celebrate. ;)

[Kol Saresk]

I have the perfect one! Wait, no, I used that for Daemonpact. Going to have to come up with something better..... I got it.

[Urauloth]

This is probably a silly question, but are we limited to one entry?

[AlanofAngels]

Thanks a lot, guys! It means a lot I'm looking forward to seeing what you guys cook up for this week's challenge! I've been meaning to write some stuff about my warband for a while so this might finally motivate me to get it done! It's almost like... that's the point of the thread!

[incinerator950]

My brain is so addled I can hardly write, let alone brainstorm.

[Balthamal]

Does stuff already written count? Or does it have to be original?

[Kol Saresk]

Does stuff already written count? Or does it have to be original?

I think its good as long as it hasn't been used for something else, like a Daemon Pact event or another Inspirational Friday. All your stuff should be good Bal.

[Hidicul]

I've had the story of how my Lord got the Inquisitor's skull he sports for a belt buckle when on foot or displayed when he's on his bike(look for it in the CoC, I'm working on those models now) so I guess I'll be sitting down and fleshing out the chaos in my head this week.

[Iron-Daemon Forge]

Does stuff already written count? Or does it have to be original?

 

If we are ok with background that is alright writen?  I'd like to add the background I've done for my Iron Warriors for Throne of Skulls events.  I've already posted a copy over on the Iron Warriors commuinty topic

http://www.bolterandchainsword.com/topic/296724-iron-within-iron-without-iv-legion-community/?p=3809097

 

The battle was base on a campaign a wargaming club I use to go to ran & was a pretty big part in my Iron Warriors history.

 

Iron Warriors 5th Grand Company background - The Prometheus Crusade

Iron is forever.

From Iron cometh Strength.

From Strength cometh Will.

From Will cometh Faith

From Faith cometh Honour

From Honour cometh Iron

This is the Unbreakable Litany.

May it forever be so

Dominum imperator ac ferrum aeturnum

 

Prometheus was a world that was liberated by the Iron Warriors during the great crusade. The Imperial turned it into a Forge World to help supply the Imperial armies during the great crusade. Since then a millennium has passed and that time of the great crusade has become myth & legend. Now a Black Templar Crusade Force is stationed there, re-supplying for a crusade they planned to launch to the east of the Imperial border against a Xenos threat.

 

Now a millennium after the Horus Heresy, when Battle Brother fought Battle Brother. the Iron Warriors have returned to take back Prometheus. Their aim is to turn the Forge World in to a place to create Daemonic Engines & weapons to help their Legion battle against the Imperial & anyone else who would stand in their way.

 

After gaining a foot hold on the planet Warsmith Abhorred Riddick, the overall commander of the Iron Warriors 5th Grand Company, has ordered his protégé, Iron Captain Narach Delau, to go out & lead his company to attack the Ancient Forge Keep of the Mechanicus on Prometheus. The Forge Keep had been made by the Iron Warriors during the great crusade & it holds a relic of their Legions

The Iron Warriors 5th Grand Company has been around since the Great Crusade, when gods walked among men & humanity was being reunited after the darkness of “old night”. The Iron Warriors along with the other Space Marine legions were hailed as heroes, until the Emperor betrayed them. The Iron Warriors along with seven other Space Marine legions took sides with Horus Lupercal & pledged their loyalty to the Chaos. This led to the Horus Heresy, where brother would fight brother.

Since then, the Iron Warriors 5th Grand Company have fought in many wars & campaigns against the Imperial, other chaos legions & Xenos races. They fought along with their Primarch Perturabo during the Iron Cage. Throughout the 10th Black Crusade along with other Iron Warrior Grand Companies, the 5th Grand Company helped attack the Iron Hands Chapter on Medusa, the Iron Hands own home world. During the 13th Black Crusade the 5th Grand Company fought on the very ground of Cadian. There they honoured the chaos gods by building a great fortification on Kasr Sonnen.

 

 

The optical zoom whirled on the auto-scope as Lord Narach looked into the gaping wound his siege engines had opened up in the Adeptus Mechanicus Forges’ flank. The same engines lay silent for some 40 metres to either side of him all but exhausted of ammunition. The trench made defences they nestled in and the reinforced command bunkers were impressive even to his well trained eye, but of course they would have been, having been constructed under his orders and supervision. Up the slope almost a mile distant the Forge Fortress billowed smoke from its breached side.

 

From the rock-crete composition and architecture the Fortress, Narach had been tasked with grinding the defenders to dust in the name of Warsmith Abhorred Riddick.

 

Half broken orders and weapons fire crackled through the comm’s when it managed anything more than white noise and static. The smoke screen of swirling white mist twisted and danced with the black smoke generated by the burning vehicles inside the breach. It obscured any attempt to discern anything of the assault; Narach cursed the human guard, Imperial Guards who fallen under the darkness of Chaos & now serve as fodder to the Iron Warriors. Had assured Narach, the winds would have picked up by now to clear the sight of the fighting.

 

 

The fighting had been going on for almost 8 minutes now, too long without a clear signal. He hated not knowing. Narach scanned the smoke obscured breach again; the smoke was clearing now, if too slowly for his liking. A burning Rhino sprawled out of the smoke, its front hull section almost blown in two, a massive exit wound but relatively little entry damage, classic Lascannon round from the Black Templars. Coming apart in chunks of twisted metal as is smashed down the rocky slope.

Through the mist of battle, Narach could see armoured shapes of his brother Iron Warriors moved like spectres in the swirling clouds of smoke as they pushed forward toward the Forge Keep.

 

The scene reminded Narach of a moment during the siege. He’d pushed into the promenade of the first line of the defending walls, his battle brothers around him as they drove back the Imperial Fists from their defences guarding the gates inside the Imperial Palace. He emptied his combi-bolter into a wounded Imperial as he tried to limp through the gates. The armour around his leg cracked and he fell to the floor. Narach had charge, in a second plunging his serrated combat knife repeatedly into his neck. The sprays of warm blood had been glorious, the pathetic shriek of the Imperial Fist more so.

Narach snapped back to the present, he pushed the memory of the Siege of the Emperor’s Palace back. Too few of his glorious brethren were emerging from the assault. He’d issued the order,

 

“Bring forth Ferrum Draco the Vindacator siege tank & the Obliterators Cult”.

 

‘Acknowledged my Lord’. Narach gazed up at the defiant form of the Forge, his lips twisting into a snarl.

 

“Bring about my transport and assemble my guard, we launch our final assault on Prometheus!”

[Conn Eremon]

[Copy/pasted from my post in the Liber Cluster thread about a month ago]

 

http://i.imgur.com/ADIB1fV.jpg

Admiral Grisson Olgevin, half-brother to Patriarch Juivaun of the Olgevin Family, was accepted into the Navy as a Captain thanks to his political connections. Despite his pampered upbringing, the young native of Colvin Majoris came into his own as a tried and true void war commander. Though concerns had been raised of his loyalties to the Olgevin Family over the Imperial Navy, it did not stop the gifted Captain from rising in rank, to First Captain, Commodore and finally Admiral. His political ties to Colvin Majoris made him a perfect candidate to bring the Adept Primaris’ command to arisen saint, as well as due to extensive petitioning for the role by the Admiral himself.

The galaxy-wide Imperium of Mankind has endured for ten thousand years, and may endure for ten thousand more. This incredible scope makes the documentation of even a singular component of this empire a daunting task bordering on the impossible. There is more that occurs that even the most knowledgeable of institutions can ever know. What happens in the dark, in isolation, outnumbers all else. The Colvin Crusade is, by all standards, a well-documented affair. But its first battle will forever remain shrouded in darkness.

 

 

 

 

http://i.imgur.com/k064lVQ.jpg

Admiral Olgevin’s personal carrier is struck multiple times as it weaves around wreckage and heavy fire on its way to the surface of Colvin Majoris. How the small ship was able to survive such blows is likely due to the remarkable craftsmanship that went into its making, nearly four hundred years prior as a gift to the now deceased Admiral Paevryn by the Saneslau Mechanicus in honor of his aid in freeing a forge world from the unthinking hordes of the greenskin menace. Though the forge world had little connection to the Saneslau Mechanicum at that time, it was in no small part due to the orbital warfare that the world became subordinated to the Saneslau technocracy.

Battles in space are not quick. The vast distances between ships are incomprehensible to even the greatest of planetary commanders. The immense ammunition too cumbersome to maneuver and load with speed. Captain Vilheim once likened wars in the void like records of the solemn ballets of Orphine II, played at quarter speed. Agonizingly slow, but not without great impact. The death of Vanguard Fleet ‘Novus’ came with great speed, in that no hope for survival could be seen after the opening moments. While their doom was sealed, the final deliverance wouldn’t come for an age. Admiral Grisson Olgevin was a veteran of naval combat, having served as an officer for over a century. However, in preparing for a ground assault, his brash actions may have triggered a murderous response; his following actions prevented the surprise attack from claiming a complete kill.

 

The Admiral was not without warning. Communications with the contingents of the Adeptus Astartes that accompanied his fleet were often brief and far between. As such, neither the Admiral nor his officer cadre expected the mass deployment of drop pods launched from the All-Seers Strike Cruiser, the Predicated Truth, just prior to the orders being given for the fleet to reposition itself for a planetary expedition. Perhaps these Space Marines had seen something the mortal Naval commanders had missed, or perhaps sheer chance made their actions seem so fortuitous in design. As the Imperial ships shifted position to cover the Guard transports in their descent, the nearby orbital stations that had remained so obstinately silent spoke for the first time with an all-out spread of fire.

 

 

 

 

http://i.imgur.com/JYF30oe.jpg

Vanguard Fleet ‘Novus’ flagship, the Jade Shield, is sadistically left as the final target for destruction. It is said that Admiral Olgevin could be heard on the vox, screaming abuse on all channels until the ship’s final destruction silenced him forever.

The first vessel of the fleet was struck four minutes after the first shot was fired. The sheer weight of fire was enough to overload the cruiser’s shields and crack the ship in twain within seconds. The infinite expanse of space was oversaturated with weapons fire as the vanguard fleet answered. It was an exercise in futility. Within ten minutes, over half the fleet was floating wreckage. Fear and determination lent haste to the Imperial Guard carriers, who struggled to disgorge their occupants even as they were struck and sent burning down to the world below as meteoric wreckage. Many of the Navy shipsmen attempted to abandon ship for the world below as well, however their poor positioning made it a near suicidal attempt. No ship, not even the fast-acting All-Seers Chapter vessels, was able to unleash its full capacity of troops, armor and battle-brothers. The All-Seers battle-barge, Remorseless Hunter, had only begun to unleash its Space Marines upon the world below when fire from the star forts sent it tumbling from the skies in three sections. Of an army of three million, barely a million survived to reach Colvin Majoris, and scattered groupings of Naval Armsmen. Though Admiral Olgevin’s personal carrier was among these survivors, it appears the bodyguard unit tasked with remaining onboard the small craft at all times in case of an emergency evacuation abandoned their lord to his fate. Within an hour of the first attack, those who had reached the surface of the world were the sole survivors of the fleet.

 

This far from meant that they were safe. Given the situation in orbit, Colvin Majoris was clearly a hostile environment. Fortuitously, the dropsite zones, though scattered, were far from the nearest area of civilization, and the enemy did not appear to be expecting a full-scale invasion. The surviving forces milled about in confusion, decentralized, for some time until a commanding authority finally asserted itself. Admiral Olgevin had been in supreme command of the fleet and its forces; however, General Krystoph was in charge of the Imperial Guard regiments. With the absence and likely death in orbit of both these esteemed individuals, command fell on two Colonels. Colonels Crighton and Lizaeth led the 39th Pallian Gunsights and the 112th Veneti Armor Companies respectively, and were equally the highest-ranking officers of seniority of the survivors, alongside Colonel Gristen, of the 22nd Alaman Killers. Colonel Gristen disputed against the other Colonels for over-all command, and was killed for his troubles.

 

Colonels Lizaeth and Crighton accepted dual command of the surviving forces, though this did create some enmity with the deceased Colonel Gristen’s regiment. Both the Pallian and Alaman regiments were of large size, over a hundred thousand each. Though the Veneti Armor Companies were of notable size at the time of their arrival in-system, the difficulty of transporting tanks, super-heavies, scout craft and other armor with speed was simply too much, and was only at a fraction of its strength. However, priority was granted to the regiment’s super-heavy tanks, and the lighter scout craft were more easily transported, which led to a majority of the regiment’s losses being medium-class armor such as the Leman Russ. The Colonels’ dominance was not disputed by Captain Nervais of the Gem of Osirion, the only Captain of the fleet to abandon ship, who busied himself ordering around the surviving Naval armsmen. His death four days later by Navy-standard autogun shot wounds went uninvestigated.

 

 

 

 

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

Colonels Lizaeth and Crighton, in the outer lying habs of a Colvin Hive-sect. Though heroic in profile and stoic in appearance, it is likely that by this point they were nearly overcome with exhaustion, having suffered horrendous losses and the abandonment, albeit temporarily, of the All-Seers Space Marines. Colonel Crighton fell in battle three hours later, when the true face of the enemy was revealed.

With command established, the Imperial forces began consolidating their position, nestled deep in the mountainous ranges of Colvin Majoris’ eastern supercontinent. It was then that the truth that surrounded them finally began to sink in. The mountains were cold and stark, but they were also rock. The frozen sheets of ice the soldiers of the Imperium had been briefed upon were simply nonexistent. Those who had paid particular attention to the briefing noticed that the Colvin sun was of a different hue. Mechanicus tech-priests watched the rising sun with greater trepidation, for they knew it rose 18 degrees further north than it should be. Whatever concerns this may have caused to rise, they were washed away with the arrival of a much more pressing matter. Enemy forces had located the Imperial dropsite, and now low-flying assault craft were beginning attack runs. For hours, these atmospheric fighters reaped a terrible toll upon the survivors, destroying anti-air gun emplacements before they were fully set up. It was the arrival of the All-Seers that provided the survivors succor, as their own attack craft and man-portable surface-to-air weapons drove the small planes off.

 

Chapter Master Ehud Ofarim had still been inside the battle-barge when it had broken apart, but had survived the plummet and was extricated from the wreckage by his men. Doubling as the Chief Librarian of his Chapter, a dichotomy of function rarely seen among the Chapters of the Adeptus Astartes, it was his remarkable foresight and quick-thinking that had led to his Chapter’s early deployment. Of the four full companies that had accompanied the vanguard fleet, just over three hundred Space Marines had made it to the surface, though no one company suffered more losses than the others. Their arrival was greatly welcomed by the survivors, who in spite of being stranded upon a hostile world now felt that with the Angels of Death alongside them they were sure to survive. Despite Technarch Virixeum’s objections, the Colonels in chief offered to relinquish command of the Imperial forces to Chapter Master Ofarim, however the offer was declined. The Marine commander would command his All-Seers in conjunction with the Imperial Guard and would advise the Colonels as his gifts would allow, but would not himself bother to command lesser, mortal forces.

 

 

 

 

http://i.imgur.com/abOdo9F.png

Mercenary likely recruited from Durant, showing the unorthodox armor and weaponry commonly encountered among the Colvin forces. Information gleaned from tortured prisoners of war revealed that the red cloth worn over the head is a gesture of allegiance to Saint Verdinant. Pictured here is a dyed red cloth; however, the Saint’s Chosen wear armor and cloth stained red from the blood of the martyrs. Though subtle, close examination of the mercenary’s armor reveals a symbol that is seen more and more often the closer the Imperial forces are to the Cathedral. Even closer, the symbols become more pronounced and varied. After multiple problematic attempts at scavenging gear, a proclamation is made that the any attempts to utilize marked enemy gear will lead to a summary execution to be carried out by the nearest Commissar. Despite the poor state of supplies and diminished number of commissariat officers, this ruling is readily obeyed.

The Imperial forces’ strategy was simple and direct. The Saint of Colvin had shown his true colors as an enemy of the Emperor. The survivors, supported by the Space Marines, would charge straight for the Cathedral of St. Verdinant, 2500 km to the southwest, where the saint would be, in the words Colonel Lizaeth, “de-canonized through the barrel of a Baneblade’s cannon.” This would prove easier said than done, being as they are outnumbered nearly ten times over by local planetary defense forces, mercenary and other offworld forces. However, no collection of the Imperial Guard’s lesser single-world cousins could compare to those regiments who have fought dozens of campaigns across as many worlds and environments, and the ad-hoc mercenaries lacked the necessary discipline. The Imperial forces divided into a three-pronged thrust, charging at double-speed across the cold, desolate rocky ground. These groupings maintained close contact and distance, allowing them to attack targets in concert on multiple fronts.

 

The elite Guard regiments overwhelmed the local forces where they were met, in isolated hab-communities and ambushes, but resistance increased with speed the closer they got to their target. The enemy was fervent and zealous, maddened even. An enemy charge would continue undiminished until the last soldier fell. Places with civilian populations were worse, as for every enemy that fell, a civilian would appear to take up a fallen weapon and attack the Imperial forces. The regiments came across four hive-sects, heavily populated religious centers, where progress could not be resumed until the entire conglomerated structure had been purged clean of life.

 

 

 

 

http://i.imgur.com/VIQ76Ni.jpg

The Tactical Squads of the All-Seers 6th Company had earned themselves great honor and glory over the past two thousand years, their ability to quickly counter-attack enemy actions almost before they had begun bordering on the preternatural. On the world of Colvin Majoris, this company was tasked by Chapter Master Ofarim with stalking ahead of the Imperial forces. Following their path allowed the survivors to pick their way through enemy forces with incredible speed, often seeming to come upon the foe precisely where they were unexpected. At least, where the enemy survived the guns of the Sixth.

At the Verdauvian Bloc, a mere 500 km from the Cathedral, a different kind of enemy showed itself, changing the scope of the war immediately. The All-Seers 6th Company encountered this enemy first, and it was the shattered remains of 6th Company’s squads that the bulk of the Imperial army revealed its presence to the rest. The Tactical squads were scattered across an entire sector of this overly-expansive slum region, focused around an immense square where the Space Marine dead were found stacked upon each other like refuse left on the side of the street to be taken by a cleansing vehicle. Just as the horror of the situation spreads across the Guard regiments, they struck. Giants, heavily armored, appear from the darkness, shepherding hordes of mortals dwarfed by their great size. Booming recitations echoed from the vox-grills set in their helms, the obscene language without any connection to Gothic, setting the Guardsmen teeth on edge, like an impossibly distant vibration that can be felt deep in the bones. The shock of seeing Chaos Marines rooted the Guard where they stood. None of the forces sent to Colvin had encountered a breed of renegade Astartes before. Indeed, none had ever even been privy to the closely guarded truth that such beasts existed.

 

The Imperial line broke for the first time since the fall. Entire companies were lost simply from the rush and desperation to retreat. The officers of the Commissariat tried in vain to rally the men and women, and for every one of them trampled underfoot, a dozen fell with lasburns upon their backs. The guns of the Traitor Marines reaped a more deadly toll, the penetrative, high-caliber weaponry making short work of even the heavily plated armor. If it hadn’t been for the surviving All-Seers swooping around and slicing in on the enemy from behind, it is possible that even these small numbers could have overrun the Imperial Guard regiments, such was the enemy’s devastating potential. The All-Seers, caught off guard themselves, struck the enemy with a matching fury. As the Imperial Guard screamed and scrambled from the ferocious enemy, the projected roar of a couple hundred All-Seers screaming their hate from their vox-grills drowned them out. When the these mortal enemies struck, the crash of ceramite armored bodies striking each other at full charge echoed down the narrow streets for miles all around.

 

The All-Seers and the red-armored Chaos Marines fought a bloody battle, harsher, more direct and brutal than any the Guardsmen had ever before witnessed. The fight was short, as such frenzied melee can be, but the effect was horrendous. The introduction of this new enemy saw the Imperial forces decimated, and those in command knew well that this was likely only a token force. To encounter them now only meant that more would await them further on. They were not wrong.

 

 

 

 

http://i.imgur.com/6I87eR4.jpg

Long-range pict-capture of the Chaos Marines encountered by Imperial force. There are two features of note. Namely, the symbol on the left pauldon was a common heraldry seen on most Chaos Marines and likely declares the Marine’s allegiance to a particular warband. Also of note is the fiery background. As the world has long been a frozen ball orbiting a cold-burning star, the heavy volcanic activity seen at intervals across Colvin is at odds with its original image. It is unknown if the strange environmental situation is perhaps due the increase in geological activity, or vice versa.

Extensive plains of flat, rocky ground lay between the Verdauvian Bloc and the Colvin City, and the route appeared clear. However, consultation with the All-Seers commander revealed a hidden danger. Such open ground would offer the Imperial forces no cover or respite from potential orbital strikes. If caught in the open like that, the entire expedition could be blown off the face of the planet. Though bone-weary and with the lack of supplies beginning to take its toll, the regiments would have to take a more circuitous trek through the nearby Tronkite Ridge. The Chapter Master did not mention that the enemy would likely fortify these mountains in expectation of this change of direction, for fear that the knowledge of increased resistance would only push the mortal forces over the edge, and condemn them to failure and death. Those techpriests with functioning internal seismic augurs also chose to withhold valuable information, as they pondered the strange readings given off by their machinery.

 

Like much of the world, it had undergone extensive changes in a short period. The mountains should have been iced over and impassable. Instead, they stood like thin, sharpened spears of hard rock, slick still from their recent thaw. The terrain was treacherous, and it forced the Imperial armor regiments to specific paths where their largest tanks could fit. In order to prevent their forces to be stretched out too far, the decision was instead made to split them in two and pursue different avenues. The terrible conditions were made worse by the near constant flow of enemy soldiers, charging from all quarters. Most fell under the disciplined fire, or were wiped out wholesale by the guns of armored vehicles or under the concentrated might of the All-Seers. Nonetheless, the steady pressure wore the regiments down, whittling away at their sanity and courage, as well as their lives. Their progress was most impeded by great gates of strange, disconcerting design. These immense structures barricaded the mountain passes at intervals, eight of them ringing around the largest spire of the range in such a way that both Imperial contingents would attack them from different paths. Though ill equipped to withstand against the super-heavies and Space Marines, they took time and manpower to overcome that was too precious to lose. Worse still, it was at these locations that Chaos Marines guarded. Blood poured down those walls. The final gate was the quickest to fall, as it was here that the Imperial forces crossed paths. However, whatever victory the exhausted soldiers might have celebrated was short-lived, as upon the gate’s fall the immense Mt. Vultrene erupted in a devastating blast of fire and smoke. Somehow, impossibly, the mountain was volcanic, and its eruption was followed by a chain of lesser peaks erupting. Within an hour, the entire mountain range was awash in flame and hidden from its yellow sun. The regiments had no choice but to escape from the rocky labyrinth, though the seas of molten fire claimed the lives of many.

 

 

 

 

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

Captain Drusilla Cramonte IV, of the 296th Thravian Heavy Assault Infantry, found herself in command of the regiment when her superior’s life was taken by a sniper. Though not bred and trained for regiment command as their colonel had been, Captain Cramonte took to the role with aplomb. She led the surviving men and women of her regiment into the enemy stronghold within the Sebasti Towers that overlooked the roadways. Their remarkable skill in close-quarters combat served them well around and within the base of the towers, though heavy defensive positions thwarted attempts to rise above the first floor. This did not daunt the proud men and women of Thravis Prime, who held position long enough for powerful explosives to be set at key points. The enemy must have been expecting a foolhardy charge up the tower steps, but instead found themselves caught in a deadly trap as the explosions tore through the support pillars and beams. The first floors disappeared as the towers plummeted a dozen meters down. The towers slowly toppled sideways, slamming into each other and breaking apart, spilling the enemy from the cracks and windows. The regiment stalked through the wreckage, killing any who somehow still lived. Captain Cramonte allowed herself a brief moment of respite among the destruction, before ordering the regiment onward.

It had been the intention of Colonel Lizaeth, now sole commander of the Imperial forces, to exit the range further north, past their target, at the mountain town of Kridye, which was connected to the Colvin City by an extensive, enclosed network of roadways, with two mini-hive communities linked between. With the Imperial forces spilling out of the range across a wide region, it was difficult for the Colonel to guide them all after a singular target. Instead, the regiments instinctively hurtled themselves directly east at the pair of connecting cities. Blessedly, there were no orbital bombardments; however, the outer shells of the cities were dotted with powerful artillery guns that appeared to suffer no lack of ammunition. Though the guns themselves were heavily armored, they sat upon relatively unstable structures not intended to withstand the concentrated fire of long-range tank shells. Though the Imperial forces were unable to silence more than a small fraction of the artillery, they were successful in punching large holes into the Hives’ outer shells, into which many an enemy gun fell.

 

Once inside, the Imperial forces were relatively safe. Though defended, these Hives were veritable ghost towns in comparison to many of the cities and towns fought over to reach this point. As the chain of command finally reasserted itself, the northern hive was largely bypassed in favor of grouping the regiments together again for a concerted push for the Colvin City. As the regiments overcame resistance in the southern hive and entered the roadways, they were immediately confronted by enemy sabotage in progress. Here, the enemy showed greater discipline and training than before, and were likely formed from Imperial Guard regiments themselves, somehow twisted to the saint’s cause. Once more, the All-Seers provided the edge that allowed the Imperial forces to overcome this newest obstacle, though many of the roadways were destroyed before the enemy was overrun. Though now funneled through select few roadways at the manmade tunnel’s entrance, the regiments quickly fanned out to cover each of the dozens of twisting, overlapping streets. Enemy caravans departed from Colvin City with alarming regularity, aimed at slowing the Emperor’s faithful or causing further damage by sabotage. The Imperial forces suffered terrible losses when the enemy managed to collapse the tunnel, burying nearly a hundred thousand soldiers under thousands of tons of rock and steel, and halting the progress of half again as many behind the destruction. Once more, Colonel Lizaeth was twisted with doubt as she witnessed the terrible cost required to reach yet another objective, and wondered if there would be any left to spend when they finally reached their target.

 

 

 

 

http://i.imgur.com/1lc4Nrb.jpg

Chapter Master Ehud Ofarim leads the charge against the fell denizens of the Warp, his command squad and 2nd Company Predictor-Captain Aviv Hanoch of the Learned Blades accompanying him. With the regiments too deep in combat upon the Colvin City walls and other All-Seers forces fighting off similar incursions, when these terrible beasts crossed the a Rift that appeared seemingly without warning, it was this small, but elite contingent of All-Seers that awaited them. Though removed from the main battle, it was no less destructive in its scope, as these two inhuman forces ravaged the Outer City. Many of the brotherhood fell against the enemy, but the terrible scar in reality merely expelled more of their kind. When Ofarim was stabbed through by the hell-forged blade of some double-headed daemon, Hanoch linked with the surviving Librarians, turning themselves into living bombs that leveled the hab-blocks for a hundred meters all around. Those daemons upon the outskirts escaped unscathed, but the rift was closed. Chapter Master Ehud Ofarim miraculously survived.

After finally reaching the end of the enclosed roadways, the regiments found themselves in the sprawling Outer City, an unplanned city network that had grown over centuries, attached like a parasite to the walls that line Colvin City. Here, every misshapen block was either heavily defended or decoys for some deadly trap. The tight corridors prevented the armor regiments from traveling forward down any but the main avenue that sloped downward to the Empyrean Gate. With their once million-strong army reduced to so few, the entire Imperial force was able to assault directly down this avenue, deciding not to bog itself down fighting block by block just to reach a wall that may or may not be easier to overcome than the likely heavily defended and armored gates. As the few remaining survivors laid siege to an enemy that by now outnumbered them thirty to one, the All-Seers seemingly disappear from the frontline to take the fight outward into the Outer City proper. The soldiers of the Emperor cursed the Chapter’s name for abandoning them at such a crucial point, however their disgusted words changed quickly to screaming pleas as fell creatures whose mere appearances were enough to induce insanity sped from the side streets and thrashed through the Imperial lines. Whole regiments were slaughtered before Colonel Lizaeth even became aware of this new enemy. Every close-quarters capable regiment was ordered to the back lines to forestall the beasts from reaching the vulnerable armor regiments, in the act of which every one of them sold their lives. As considerable firepower streaked up to strike the gates, eventually the concentrated guns succeeded in tearing through enough of the immense hinges upon which the gates sat. With the downward slope pulling at them, the gates slowly bent and tore their way free to fall backwards into the Colvin City. The impact of these 900 meters tall, 40 meters thick gates upon the earth knocked every soldier of either side from their feet, the concussive blast leveling structures in a great swathe, effectively flattening a fifth of this great city.

 

The Imperial forces quickly took to their feet and poured into the Colvin City, the large Cathedral of St. Verdinant finally in sight. But the view would taunt them, as the enemy rose to meet them in numbers far greater than even the most negative of projections could have thought possible. Though the All-Seers returned to fight alongside their mortal allies, their numbers too were greatly reduced. Now barely numbering a hundred thousand soldiers, accompanied by a handful of All-Seer squads, the millions of mortal traitors, Chaos Marines and daemonic forces was simply too much to overcome. Their position was bleak, their goal hopeless to achieve. They had but one chance. The All-Seers were capable of perhaps one last charge through the enemy to the Cathedral, but they would certainly fail if they tried to keep pace with their allies and the mortal regiments would be slain long before reaching it regardless. There was nothing for it. The All-Seers, with Chapter Master Ehud Ofarim at its head, would make for the Cathedral with all speed, ignoring the enemy wherever possible in the name of haste. The enemy would only be broken if they succeed in taking the saint’s head.

 

 

 

 

http://i.imgur.com/u0Xlus2.jpg

The Saint of Colvin stalked from the flames, clutching the head of the All-Seers Chapter Master in a clawed hand, and roared his devotion to the Word from the Cathedral battlements, as millions of mortals below chanted the name of Verdinant. Their duel had lasted hours, and at its conclusion, Colonel Lizaeth bowed to pressure from her compatriots and surrendered. His beheaded body provided the centerpiece, surrounded by the bodies of seven other commanding officers who had led the disparate Imperial forces, to a ritual that would consecrate this victory in the name of the Dark Pantheon. This victory would be the first of many for the Host of the Broken Dawn in the Liber Cluster, the first faith twisted to their terrible cause, and proper reverence was due.

[Carrack]

That was simply awesome Cormac Airt. Well done.

[Balthamal]

 

Does stuff already written count? Or does it have to be original?

I think its good as long as it hasn't been used for something else, like a Daemon Pact event or another Inspirational Friday. All your stuff should be good Bal.

I'm tempted to use my Istvaan V piece but think I'll plump for something new. Brainstorming time

[Loesh]

"It will work...."

 

Venteri, Champion of the Sun Killers detachment in the warband, wasn't so sure about that.

 

"Six."

 

He stood behind a glass window, far and above the Hive World below, the red light of his eyes burning in the darkness of the half lit room.  His armor was primarily black and pink with the symbol of the Emperors Children displayed prominently on his shoulder, the other however was covered mostly by a banner that obscured either side of his right arm, the brand of Slaanesh worked into treated flesh with a number of artificial dyes that caused the skin to distort into a wild number of eye watering colors. The power armor he wore was composed of a number different sets, cobbled together from battles as far back in time as the Drop Site Massacre and as far reaching as the Eastern Fringes, he had been fighting so long and in so many places that it had all started to melt together.

 

"Five."

 

"We required a special kind of despair this time, the sheer scale of what we were about to do required enormous imagination and psychic power that could only come from the most hopeless and broken of Throne-Wed Psykers and carefully treated by the best sorcerers at Slaanesh's disposal, outsourcing to other Warbands like the Angels of Ecstesy for the required components was costly...but worth it."

 

"Four,"

 

He frowned behind his beaked helm, looking behind him at the gathered assembly of cultists and Space Marines alike. Sanctified Imperial Psykers gathered over the last several months sat in the center of their little ritual circle, completely motionless. The glowing purple candles around the apartment illuminated their glassy eyes, vacant...dead...and cuts across their skin slowly dripped blood onto the floor.

 

"Three."

 

"The kind of despair you don't fight against, the kind of despair that runs thick and deep. The blackness washing over your soul as the seed of oblivion blooms inside as you manufacture your own personal hell. Your emotions rise up to haunt you and you realize the lie that is the Emperors vaunted light, when you see how much people can break themselves you realize the greatest threat comes from within and not from without. The Apostatic Matrix seems so crude to me now, why simply pluck the flower of faith when it so much more pleasurable to corrupt it?"

 

"Two."

 

Imperial soldiers marched below, completely oblivious to the cults at work all across the world. Venteri looked down upon them with the greatest scorn, so much so he wondered if Sigvalds psionic shroud would crack at the sheer force of his hate. There were hundreds of them, blind eyeless insects enslaved to the will of the False Emperor. The planetary governor at it's head, waving to the numberless poor and weak around them, they were so pathetic that he wondered if their death may of been preferable to the lives they were leading.

 

"One."

 

It was hard to hear at first, but slowly the sound could be heard even in the underhives below: A portion of the Screaming Vortex filtered through raw madness and brought to the ears of thousands by the voice of Slaanesh to even those without the barest hint of psychic aptitude. Countless unwashed faces looked up at the glass towers as the windows slowly cracked...then shattered, enormous blades falling to the men below, eviscerating and impaling indiscriminately. The crowds scattered as it seemed like the sky was falling, some going unconscious from the sheer pain of the ear piercing wail.

 

The Imperial Guard looked to one another, first in confusion...but then in horror...as the shrieking entered their ears and the ground began to rumble. Up above the sky turned every color imaginable, the structures pushing up into them collapsed to the ground clouds of rubble and twisted steel. Rising out of their place were new towers...black and ominous, shrieking faces etched into the surface, and yet at the same time they seemed to be flat....like cardboard and indeed were pushing up against a now darkening cardboard sky. From the shattered concrete vines and hands grabbed at legs, yet they too looked like they were manufactured by paint and sculpture...they were being attacked by living art.

 

"I do love good theater." Sigvald said, the sorcerers voice clawing at Venteri's mind like skeletal hands.

 

With a roar, his fist shot outward and shattered the cracked glass in front of him, a highway of twisting bone rising up to catch him as he jumped down from the great height, his banner twisting in the wind as he ran down towards the road turned impressionist picture. 

 

At least a dozen imperial guard ran up to meet him, some already going mad from the voices and simply attacking anything nearby as much as troops trying to defend their world gone mad, lasguns rose up to unleash a barrage of fire that simply was stopped by his corrupted artificer armor. His banner billowed a moment and before the troops could react, the wicked barbs of his lash of torment whipped out and tore into their front ranks, sending them to the ground clutching their split stomachs and gouged eyes. Worse still for the survivors, they were treated to the end of his fusion gun and the skin covering the barrel  began boiling  as molten slag was vomited up to melt flesh and bone alike.

 

Up above a great light pierced the pastel storm above, the planetary governor looking up in horror as the beam engulfed her. Her flesh stretching and violently mutating, limbs twisting as her skin began rapidly bloating. Legs becoming long and scaled, arms twisting into vicious claws as she went down to all fours and her body greatly enhanced in size, a forest of arms and spikes emerging from her back as she rapidly descended into spawndom. Her honor guard just stared at her blankly as needle like teeth closed around their figures, bodies folding in moments.

 

Venteri looked from target to target as the Imperials tried rally themselves. However as more Slaaneshi marines joined the fray from above, and cultists burst from every door, he could see that this was rapidly devolving from a battle and into a slaughter. Bringing his whip around to tear at another group of soldiers, a brief smile flashed under his helm as he noticed the lascannons of his compatriots just before the blasts tore into the imperial vehicles, the machines rooted into the ground by shattered concrete and thick vines as they tried to wheel around to a target...with little success.

 

From the tallest building in the city, wine was poured into a silver goblet, Sigvald was entertained at least.

[Dizzyeye01]

I think I can come up with something. When will we need the stories to be handed in by? Also nice story Loesh

[Loesh]

I think I can come up with something. When will we need the stories to be handed in by? Also nice story Loesh

 

Thanks, it took me awhile to get the creative juices flowing enough to write.

[Excessus]

I was going to write something and had a nice story laid out...but after reading the above posters stories...my confidence was shot down hard...

[incinerator950]

It's hard to want to type a story on a mobile phone.

[Tenebris]

The Battle of Arcadia Quintus - The Snake and the Raven

 

- from "The Canticle of Shadows, Chronicles of Arrogance, Chapter XVII" by Alois Duremond, personal scribe of Lord Alandro Kersh, The Arrogant Sons Black Legion Warband

 

---

 

... it is only now that we can move onto the subject of the infamous battle for Arcadia Quintus, or better, to the pivotal even which shaped the Black Legion warband known as the Arrogant Sons as one of the infamous forces of Change under the banner of our most glorious Warmaster. 

 

Arcadia Quintus was a remote planet in the eastern fringes of the known galaxy, a small subsector of five planets colonized during the age of the Great Crusade by the colonists from the revered empire of Ultramar. A plain world soon turned into a sprawling agri-world which became a mighty bastion of mankind under the guidance of the XIIIth Legion, Arcadia Quintus was considered one of the rare jewels of the 500 Worlds of Ultramar. Covered in vast plains where herds of grox and fields of carubae gave the work to a population of two billions, Arcadia Quintus was indeed the bread basket for the two nearby subsctors, Arlen and Surba along for the Imperial Army which held there a space fort as part of a logistic effort to supply fleets and regiments en route to the far eastern fringes of the Ultramar realm. 

 

It was this bounty of food and the import of this location that first drew the attention of the Snakes, of the subtle Alpha Legion, which as part of its mission in the Ultima Segmentum following the defeat of the traitor legions on Terra, saw in Arcadia Quintus an opportunity to destabilize three subsectors held by the scions of Guilliman and thus avenge partly the shameful defeat of the Sacrificed King. It was my master, Harrowmaster Alandro Kersh who commanded the operations on Arcadia Quintus. The goal of the mission was to infect the massive stockpiles of food destined to feed more than thirty worlds and a thousand regiments of the newly formed Imperial Guard with a virulent and mutagenic plague christened "The Crystalis", a foul concoction provided for a high price from the Hamonculus Coven of the Withered Talons.

 

The Crystalis was a masterpiece of alchemy, a perfected formula which could be keyed to the genetic code of a population and unleashed with perfect timing when supplemented by a specific strain of hyper-bacteria. This masterpiece of a plague was capable to crystallize the blood of the victim in mere seconds leaving the host impaled on spikes of crystallized life essence. Much to the credit of the Coven, the xenos provided the aid of one of their alchemists, a dark eldar by the name of Ulfiaxu'l D'rashena, a novitiate in this clique of fleshcrafters and alchemists, but already a prodigal artisan on his own. 

 

My master planned the attack on Arcadia Quintus in minute detail. The Alpha Legion infiltrated among the numerous farmer guilds and storehouse cartels which run the spaceports on the planet and their actions went unnoticed for almost five years. The Alpha Legion was always wise to cover any trace of their work and countless eyes were blinded and mouths shut in those years. It was only when Ulfiaxu'l of the Withered Talons, bored by the precise and methodical approach of the Alpha Legion, did unleash the strain of bacteria on the world of Valastanis III in order to marvel at the destructive potential of the plague, that was the moment when the Imperium of Man did notice the dire effect of this deadly alchemical pathogen.

 

Initially only the worlds of Valastanis III, Durhz and Frutimalus Secundus felt the unholy touch of the Crystalis, the death toll was already in the billions and countless Magos of the Mechanicus were contacted by the shadowy Inquisition to find a cure, but the plague went unchecked and unstoppable, ravaging the populations of two more worlds. It was by chance that the Frigate Resplendent Crown of the Sons of Guilliman space marine chapter came to Arcadia Quintus in order to restock after a fierce battle against the orks on Beljana, and it was then that the origin of the dreaded plague was discovered.

 

My master speculates that the xenos of the Withered Talon did doublecross the Alpha Legion and provided the proof of our activities on Arcadia Quintus and it was for naught the skirmish in Spaceport Deck 87-B, my master and his warriors failed to stop the news from reaching the authorities of the Imperium. The response to the traitor activity was brutal and swift, two battlegroups were dispatched to Arcadia Quintus and it was only the wealth of its organic bounty that prevented the Inquisition from obliterating the planet from orbit.

 

The Sons of Guilliman chapter dispatched the 5th Company to help the Imperial Guard to root out the traitor and to secure Arcadia Quintus for the Emperor of Mankind. Initially the Alpha Legion managed to counter the swift response of the Sons of Guilliman. My master elected to pursue a direct war with the Imperium until the reinforcements were to arrive, since our Splinter was exposed and vulnerable.

 

The first engagements of the conflict took place on the Hiratu Plains, a region of complex irrigation plants and massive silos of carubae. The imperial forces descended on the plains en masse, the 72nd Bremen Rifles and the 86th Ulkan Dragoons managed to secure the drop zone and soon the armoured companies of the 181st Pirulan Ironclads were rolling forth from their massive drop ships.

 

My master had at his disposal 72 astartes warriors and what little cultists the legion was able to indoctrinate along with a small complement of Sparatoi agents, myself included. The strategy was simple, drop zones were already identified and many of the landing crafts were severely damaged by our traps and decoys set there years before. The commanding officers of the Imperial Guard were targeted by legion snipers and some of us went undercover to harass and corrupt the data flow of the Imperial forces. What little action the legion had was mostly a sort of decoy or a delaying action which hampered the efforts of the enemy. Truth be told the Sons of Guilliman were unfazed by our tactics and some of their units already scored several legionary kills and managed to destroy various facilities thought to be corrupted by the phage.

 

It is to the credit of my master and his warriors that the legion managed to hold its ground for three weeks when the first spiral of hope could be seen in our war effort. My master expected the reinforcements from the Splinters Theta and Sigma but it was only several years after the battle of Arcadia Quintus that we have learned that they were betrayed by the Coven of the Withered Talon and were duly avenged. Our saviors came in the colors of which none of us recognized, they were indeed an astartes force and they still bore the sigil of the Sacrificed King, the baleful Eye of Horus, but their livery was unknown to us, for it was black with brass trim. Some veterans speculated that the marines were one of the many splinters of the now ravaged Sons of Horus legion but we were all puzzled when the keltharan crests in use of the XVth Legion could be discerned in the vid feeds.

 

The forces arrayed against us were overwhelming. Three entire Imperial Guard regiments were dispatched to counter our meager Splinter, as well as a full battlegroup of Taghmata Heruzani form the nearby Forge World. Along with this mighty warriors strode the scions of Guilliman, the newly christened Sons of Gulliman in a livery which we were used to see as the personal iconography of a certain Ultramarine captain, yet it was clear to use that there were far more imperial agencies operating in the theater for we were receiving the reports of shadowy figures assassinating our Sparatoi agents almost daily. 

 

The clash of arms came to a crescendo when the full might of the Arrogant Sons, as our saviors came to be known, became apparent. The mighty Arrogance, a Desolator-Class battleship shattered the futile cordon imposed by the Imperial Navy around the planet and soon the sky was filled with dreadclaws and landing craft bearing the black livery of the new Warmaster. My master came into contact with the "Black Legion", as our allies identified themselves, by the dawn of the first month of the battle for Arcadia Quintus, when the full moons came to be seen high on the sky, an esoteric note which disquieted my commander. A sorcerer, a certain Lord Tenebris, spoke to my master. He said that the skeins of fate showed him the plight of our Splinter and that the Black Legion was allowed to take the field in order to save the "valuable assets" on Arcadia Quintus. Even to this day we can only speculate if by assets the sorcerer meant our Splinter or the plague, but the Black Legion was indeed true to its word.

 

As the first wave of warriors clashed with the imperial lines, the Arrogant Sons displayed an almost preternatural skill with their strategy. The imperial forces were led into carefully planned ambushes, entire hosts were destroyed by well laid traps or disintegrated from within. The minds of our foes were assailed too and many a prisoner sought to take his life when confronted with the nightmares and visions each night brought anew. The destruction of the imperial lines was orchestrated in such a way that even a jaded Alpha Legion veteran such as my master marveled at the precise application of subterfuge and strategy. In turn the Arrogant Sons were genuinely concerned with the well-being of our Splinter, so far that some actions were devised in order to rescue our agents from the dreaded Inquisiton. 

 

If I could summarize the overall strategy of the Arrogant Sons I would say that it was an assault of the mind, of the senses and of the body. A host of stratagems was employed by the Black Legion, for example the 7th company of the Bremen Rifles was cursed with a mutagentic sorcery which saw them mutate into degenerate half daemons which promptly assaulted their comrades. Another stratagem was the employ of daemonic engines in the Battle of Dician Fort where a host of Maulerfiend and Forgefiend engines engaged the front columns of the 181st Pirulan savaging almost three armoured companies before they were repelled by the timely intervention of Sergeant Francius of the Sons of Guilliman and his armoured demicompany. Still the most bitter clash of arms was on the river banks of the Yellow Rivulet where the Sons of Guilliman were engaged by the vanguard of the Arrogant Sons.

 

What begun as a standard recon in force by the imperial forces soon turned to be the pivotal battle where the fate of Arcadia Quintus was decided. It was here that my master decided to bring forth the might of his now decimated cohort and block the forward elements of the Imperial Guard on the series of bridges crossing the Yellow Rivulet. Initially the engagement went precisely as planned, the Imperial Guard forces were shattered during their crossing of the bridges but it was when our Splinter went in for the kill that the imperial ambush sprang. Form the skies a host of Thunderhawks descended upon our forces, assault marines dropped from their aircraft and the ranks of the Astra Militarium spread to allow the teleportation of three squads of Terminators along with a detachment of Centurion War-Suits. Caught offguard my master fought with the bitterness of a snake cornered and when he was determined to have a last stand our saviors appeared. A full complement of Rubicae Marines materialized from thin air and the distinctive crack of air displacement and the smell of ozone heralded the arrival of the apex predators, the Arrogant Sons, the Terminator elite of this Black Legion warband.

 

In all my years of service to my legion and my warband I have never seen such butchery in so short a time. The enemy Centurions barged into our ranks, shattering lesser warriors under their massive treads, in turn the Arrogant Sons answered with sorcery, boiling the suit pilots from the inside out, their ravaged bodies exploding in acid shower which stank and burned the skin. The fierce assault of the jump pack marines was shattered by a wall of arcane bolter fire, not even the new Aquila pattern armor could hope to resist those sorcerous bolts of balefire. Yet even in all this death and destruction nothing came even close to the massacre that was unfolding in the center of the field, where the two terminator elites clashed in bitter close combat. 

 

Power mauls crackled, swords sung their song and wicked talons gouged flesh and armor. The Arrogant Sons were true to their nomen and where the loyalist fought as squad units the Sons advanced as warriors, undaunted, unconcerned. Soon it was proven that this thin blooded scions of Guilliman were not on par with their attackers for for every Arrogant Son that fell that day a score of loyalist lay mauled and gored. I have seen a terminator impale a loyalist on a pair of wicked tusks adorning his helmet, while my fellow operative confirmed in his report that an Arrogant Son killed two loyalist terminators even when he was on his knees, bleeding from wounds that would kill even an astartes twice over. It seems that some of the Arrogant Sons perfected a series of moves which were somehow a reminiscent of the gory spectacle of the Lernean Terminator Elite, moves like ripping the limbs of an enemy, goring attacks and trampling moves which had the exact intention to inspire dread in the enemy, a dread that I know that even the otherwise stoic loyalist astartes felt that day. With my own eyes I have observed an Arrogant Son crush the weapon hand of a loyalist terminator only to rip him limb by limb with his chainfist, blood sprouting everywhere. It was such bloody aggression and sheer violence that shattered the morale of the imperial forces and by the time that the twin suns of Arcadia Quintus set under the horizon that the world was delivered in the hands of the new Warmaster.

 

What followed the battle of Arcadia Quintus was a raid on planetary scale where thousands of guardsmen and the civil population was chained and shattered in body and spirit. The vast stockpiles of food and resources from this bountiful world were taken aboard the mighty Arrogance and while the Sons of Gulliman fought a valiant rearguard they too soon found themselves in chains. Our Splinter was offered a choice, join the Black Legion or die in the service to the new Warmaster and while the threat was clear to us our master and captain did not forget that many of his operatives now owe their lives to the Arrogant Sons. Perhaps Lord Kersh was impressed by the stratagems of the Arrogant Sons, perhaps he was convinced by the cause professed by this black legionnaires, still the truth is that our Splinter is no more and that we all now wear the black plate and sigil of the new Warmaster. 

 

For the purpose of this book as well as for the needs of chronicle I indeed agree with my master who said that while the Thousand Sons were never much to his liking, this Arrogant Sons are a credit to astartes warfare. I have learned that the attack on the imperial forces on Arcadia Quintus was masterminded by a renegade Raven Guard and supplemented by the acute insight of a certain traitor Iron Hand. It is this strange concoction of different talents and doctrines which impressed my master and from his words I can attest that he was eager to prove himself the equal of such luminaries as were the minds behind the defeat of the Sons of Guilliman and their imperial allies on Arcadia Quintus... a claim he soon proved to be his ambition as well as the title of Lord among this new, black brotherhood.  

 

In observance to the battle of Arcadia Quintus a plaque of solid silver was engraved with the names of the fallen and even the strict null protocols of our Splinter were bypassed in order to honor the fallen warriors. The plaque was engraved with countless more names as time passed and new warriors were added to our warband but my master agrees that the Arrogant Sons scored two victories on that distant day, the first was the victory over the imperial forces, a military feat which is still studied today by the officers in our warband, the second, the most crucial victory was the one over our Splinter for it was revealed that the Arrogant Sons have a policy of pooling a host of talents and by the words of Lord Tenebris, a Harrowmaster is indeed a price worth a world's plight. 

 

In the philosophical circles in lieu of our warband the battle of Arcadia Quintus is remembers as the Canticle of Shadows for it served as the proving ground for the traitor Raven Guard commander who would in the following centuries come to hold the rank of Lord among the Arrogant Sons... a chronicle which will be presented in the following chapter... 

 

---

[Balthamal]

Hmmm this bar is being set high. Have to up my game I think

[Kierdale]

Too busy his week, I'm out.

Going to thoroughly enjoy everyone else's entries instead :)

[Warsmith Demetrios]

                 "As the Despoiler's shadow reaches out from the Empire of the Eye to clutch at what remains of a dying Imperium, I sometimes find myself at a loss for both words and direction. The portents have been made clear to me, this will be the last time we erupt from our home to strike at our hated foe, yet whether we are to be victorious or meet with defeat is still shrouded to me."

                 "But I steel myself, for with every fiber of my being I know this to be true; we will not fail, we can not fail. And when the dust has settled? I intend to carve a new order amongst the chaos. A dominion to call my own, all men, women, and Astartes united under the banners of Chaos and the Warmaster's vision. So, when I look out upon a world my brothers and I visit our brand of ruination on, I smile, for if our Grandfather is as omnipotent as his lackeys say he is, then he knows this simple truth; I'm coming for him."

                                       - Warsmith Demetrios of the 67th Grand Company of Iron Warriors in conversation with Word Bearers Dark Apostle Y'gevetha during the Andromedus campaign circa .534 M41

                                                                                    

 

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[Dizzyeye01]

Alright here I go. This short(ish) story is based on an idea I'm currently working on for a warband, I'll be putting up a little blog for this at some point but anyway enjoy, C&C is always welcome :)

 

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

 

“Do you know why we fight cousin?”

 

Pause. This wasn’t what Tarvus was expecting. He expected to die, bolter in hand, to those who had betrayed their brothers for power. Tarvus didn’t expect the chaos space marines to talk; only to kill and pillage what they believed was theirs. The righteous White Consul was cornered, backed into an ally and cut off from the rest of his squad; for all he knew they were all dead, having already sacrificed their lives for the God Emperor. Five chaos marines stood at the end, each holding their bolter and blade in hand. The sounds of shots and the screams of the dying barely affected them at all, armoured in a mix of unadorned grey power armour with dark red shoulder pads. Crusaders of darkness, hate and vengeance.

 

The leader however, was different. Red edged cloth dyed black ran done from his legs, barely touching the floor. The same cloth split and went around the warriors’ chest, pinned on. Two bolt pistols clung in holsters hanged his belt, easily within reach. A bolter was hanging from its sling, an ancient weapon with the scratches to prove it. Its helmet was hidden by the hood with the same type of cloth, a haunting green glow emitted from underneath. What caught Tarvus’ attention were the two swords lightly held in his hands. The first was a long sword, cruelly curved lightly. It was a relic, made in the forges of Terra during the Unification Wars, its edge as sharp as the day it was forged. If the first sword was the sign of glory, the second was its polar opposite in darkness; made for the killing blow and not the elegance of sword fighting. It was shorter than the first, runes with outlandish lines crossing the guard that glowed red. It was a life ender.

 

“To bring madness to this world,” Tarvus replied, relying on his training for guidance. Ever since his promotion to Scout he had been learning from the Codex Astartes, the ways his Chapter had taught since their creation.

 

The chaos marines’ reply was a snarl, no it was laughter, an insult, “Amusing. You believe in a book handed down to you?” He started to walk slowly towards Tarvus, “There was a brother I knew, he was given a book called the Word by his superiors, told that was the true ways. Yet…before that he had been told that the Emperor was a god and that he must pray and believe anything he said.” A pause. The ground shook a little as rockets hit their target off in the distance yet again the leader didn’t take heed. He pointed his long sword at Tarvus, “He realised that he was following a liar and so slit his throat and left, to make his own belief, his own creed. What you need to realise is that you can’t just believe everything you’re told. Does your codex for example say about how the people you protect suffer -everyday- out of no fault on their own?

 

“Lies!” cried Tarvus, pulling the trigger on his bolter. Click. The leader chuckled, stepping into Tarvus’ face and slammed the hilt of his sword into his face. A snap could be heard as blood dripping from Tarvus’ nose, the blow sending him reeling to the floor, bolter dropped.

 

“The truth hurts, I know,” replied the marine, “I only realised this truth after seeing my brothers’ slaughtered in the hundreds, in the thousands. Can you imagine that? Thousands of your brothers, dying in betrayal?”

Tarvus didn’t reply, pulling himself to his knees but the leaders’ first sword rested on his shoulder, warning him to stay down, “You have a choice, you can earn your life and serve amongst my men or…you can die, just like your brothers.”

 

The marine looked up, “What do I have to do?” The leader merely chuckled, talking into his radio. A few minutes later two other chaos space marines in the same colours dragged something into the ally, bringing it in front of Tarvus. To his shock he realised it was his Sergeant, bound in shackles, his armour a shadow of it’s once glory in white with battle damage clearly present, camo cloak torn and ripped to shreds. He was clearly in agony and tired, the once fanatical marine no longer shouting, no longer fighting.

 

The leader lightly dropping a knife in front of him, pulling his long sword away and pointed to his sergeant, “Slit his throat and you will find the truth.”

 

Tarvus pulled himself up, grabbing hold of the knife with one hand, slowly limping to his sergeant, gaining a look of disgust and horror from his mentor. The knife was plain, most likely taken from one of his dead brothers. Tarvus put the weapon of betrayal to the sergeants’ throat, steeling himself for the killing of brotherhood, of the desecration to come.

 

It never came. A slight hum and shriek of flesh and pain caused Tarvus to look down. The second sword was buried into his chest, bursting through his primary heart. He slid to his knees; a slight clank came to his ears as he dropped the knife, grabbing hold of the hand of his killer. The leader looked back at him, shaking his head slightly at the scout, “Anyone can betray, can’t you see this now Sergeant? Even your own tried to turn on yourself, after all the training and experienced you showed them.” Tarvus was kicked back, the sword leaving his chest and his body trying to recover. The wound is fatal however.

 

Shayln turned towards the White Consul sergeant, wiping the blood off his sword, “You however, you know what trust is. You are somebody who you can be relied on,” He nodded towards his two brothers, letting them drag the prisoner away. Shayln slid his swords into their scabbards on his back, pulling his bolter out, “This is Shayln, I’m done here.”

 

A gruff voice replied back, “Good. Move back to your Ghosts, My men will clean this pity of a battle and scavenge what they can.” Shayln acknowledged the order, walking out of the ally and broke into a jog. War may change but it never ended.

 

The Long War continued.