+++ LEGENDS OF THE ANGELS EVENT +++

[Fulminata]

This story stems from a game where my Fourth Squad defeated three Tau units to capture and secure an objective during one of the many battles between my son and I. Sadly, I do not have nay pictures. Around the time of the game, we were building and painting Deathwatch Kill-Teams, of which Brother Sergeant Hadrion was once a part of. After the battle, he received new duds for both Deathwatch and upon his return to the Dark Angels.

 

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Following is the story of Brother Sergeant Hadrion's last mission before being seconded to the Deathwatch.

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Dark Angels, Fourth Company, Fourth Tactical Squad, Brother Sergeant Hadrion

 

 

"Brother sergeant Hadrion, I am getting strong auspex readings inside this hab-structure." Brother Balin, squad second stated over the vox as he pointed to the building on his left. "I am reading about a dozen life signs, xenos in origin. No humans detected." He finished. Brother Sergeant Hadrion battle-signed for the squad to take covered positions.

"Give me a complete thermic and electro-magnetic scan. I also want to know if they have any drones with them lurking about." Hadrion commanded as he visually inspected the nab-building.

Fourth Squad had been dispatched on a sweep and clear of this section of the city to purge any of the Tau units still lingering within. The xenos had been very resilient in their defense and had shifted the battlefield to a more open sector of the city to suit their battle doctrine of long range firepower versus close-in assault. The Dark Angels had shifted tactics as well, but some of the Tau weapons had superior range and coupled with their stealth capabilities, were wreaking havoc on the Dark Angels armor. Sergeant Hadrion's squad mission was to ensure the Tau weren't sweeping through the flank for a sneak attack.

Normally the role would reserved for scout squads or a Ravenwing attack squadron, but neither were currently attached to the Fourth Company.

"Brother-sergeant, re-scan complete. Still confirm twelve life signs; seven on the ground floor, five on the second floor. Positive electro-magnetic scans on the second floor, but I cannot confirm number. I would venture standard pattern of two drones."

"Do not venture into the minds of foul xenos." Hadrion chastised.

"Affirmative, Brother-sergeant." Balin replied. "I do not think they are aware of our presence. The next road is a main thoroughfare, they could be deployed as a static overwatch."

"Agreed...Balin, I want you, Tolenz, Kenaz, Onzo and Ipes to get on the second story of this building and provide overwatch firepower. I do not want any drones sneaking behind us or grenades dropping on our heads. Kil them quick. Zephon, Julius, Corat and Diniel with me. Prep two frags grenades each. Zephon heavy burst through the doorway with your flamer." Nine quick clicks over the vox indicated each Dark Angel understood their roles. Once in position, Balin double clicked the vox to indicate his combat squad was in position ad targets acquired. Hadrion blinked-clicked the attach rune on his upper right as Zephon burst through the door and doused the interior in a gout of flame.

The battle was over in a matter of moments, the Tau were taken completely by surprise. Two were instantly incinerated by burning promethium from Zephon's flamer, two more died by Julius and Corat, the other three wounded by Diniel's grenade. He made short work of another two with shots from his bolter leaving Sergeant Hadrion to decapitate the last with a swipe of his chainsword.

The five Tau upstairs didn't fair much better. The heavy bolter rounds made short work of their weak armor and frail alien bodies, the remaining four bolters finishing anything else remaining. The two drones survived the ambush the longest. The gun drone was clipped by a bolter round where it spun into a wall and embedded in the plascrete. The marker drone exploded into a thousand tiny fragments when a round impacted on it's rear engine section. Before any of their twin hearts began to beat, the battle was over.

"Ensure all xenos are dead. Diniel, Corat, gather any arms and equipment into a pile. We will destroy them before we move on."

"Roger." Both chimed in unison. Hadrion looked around the blasted room. There wasn't much left of any xenos to identify as remains. He peered through the shattered window at the rubble-strewn street. Not a soul could be seen in either direction nor could he discern any tactical advantage as why the Tau patrol had been holed up in the building. He chided himself for trying to understand the xenos. One needed only to kill them.

 

The squad had moved two blocks down the street when they could hear the whine of anti-gravatic engines. The squad quickly dispersed of both sides of the street.

"Devilfish-pattern transport, heading east." Balin reported as he consulted the auspex. "To fast to verify life signs." He continued before Hadrion could ask. The Devilfish transport could carry up to twelve Tau Fire Warriors and a pair of gun drones in the forward nacelles. The xenos would be easy to defeat, but the squad carried no anti-vehicle weapons save for krak grenades. They would have to get close in order to cause serious damage. With most of the Dark Angels armor support engaged with the Tau heavy tanks on the opposite side of the city, Sergeant Hadrion and his squad were on their own.

 

"Listen up," Hadrion broadcast over the vsquad vox. "Non-standard deployment. Kenez and Julius; you are on stalker duty. Your job is to get behind the Devilfish and cripple the engines. You will have to get close and use krak grenades. Everyone keeps one, you two get the rest. You are the newest battle brothers so you should still remember your time in the scout company. Tolens, you and Ipes and Corat will be on overwatch. Get up at an advantageous position and bring fire down on them. Keep their heads pinned down and watch for any drone outriders. The rest of us will sweep and clear what remains. Questions?" It was more of a statement then a question. "Signal when you are in positions."

 

The Devilfish transport stopped in the vicinity of the other Tau Firewarrior team. The twelve xenos dispersed from the rear hatch and took up overwatch positions. The two gun drones detached from the front nacelles and began sweeping the perimeter in a regular pattern. Three firewarriors entered the building but after about thirty seconds two came back out and walked up the back ramp of the Devilfish ramp.

Sergeant Hadrion entered the same hab-structure through another entrance; Tolens and his small team were quickly ascending the stairs to get into a base of fire position when a shape materialized one meter in from of Onzo. Before he was able to react, a flash of superheated gases melted through his armor, skin, muscles with a shot from a fusion blaster.

More energy pulses blasted through the room as five more stealth-model battlesuits disengaged their active camouflage and began firing. The marines, though caught completely unawares by the ambush reacted immediately and returned fire.

Sergeant Hadrion fired his bolt pistol directly into the oculus of one of the stealth suits, fragmenting armor and glass shards into the pilots face. He followed with a swipe of his chainsword that severed it weapons arm at the elbow. He followed up with a kick to its reverse-jointed left knee, the xenos stumbled and fell onto its back, down but not out, as he turned towards another threat.

"Tolens, keep that firewarrior team pinned down." Hadrion yelled over the vox as he shot at another stealth suit. This time the bolt ricochetted off the front facia and detonated in the plascrete wall. Zephon was keeping two pinned down with a burst from his flamer as Balin tossed frag grenades at them. Diniel was engaged in hand-to-hand with the one that shot Onzo, but the strength of the stealth suit was almost overpowering the marine. Hadrion shot again at the stealth suit but not before the xenos was able to bring to bear its burst cannon. Spears of energy lanced through his side and left arm, causing him to yell out in pain and drop his bolt pistol from the muscle spasm. He swung his chainsword in a side arc, but the stealth suit nimbly dodged the strike as it ignited its jump jets and crashed through the outer wall into the street beyond.

The Firewarrior team, just as surprised of the stealth suit ambush as the space marines, reacted a little slower and were pinned down by a heavy volume of fire from Tolens and his overwatch. They began firing up into the building and a viscous exchange of gunfire ensued. A gun drone hovered into view and unleashed a torrent of pulse rounds into the windows around the three overwatch marines. Several speared through Tolens, but he quickly adjusted fire and obliterated the drone with a three-round burst. The second gun drone made sweeping passes, guns blazing, but to little effect. Ipes tossed a grenade out onto the street, the shrapnel fell two firewarriors and injured a third.

 

Sergeant Hadrion retrieved his bolt pistol in numb fingers and spun around looking for the sixth stealth suit. It had reengaged its camouflage protocols but Hadrion caught a false shimmer and placed two rounds into its back. The suit appeared back into existence with a pop and spark and turned to engage. Hadrion was quicker with a kick to its weapon arm; burst cannon discharging harmlessly into the ground, and a shot to its elongated helmet. The mass reactive shell detonated inside, stunning the pilot. Hadrion capitalized with a sweep of his chainsword that caught the xenos at the waist. Whirling adamantine teeth bit through armor and quickly severed the alien's spine. It immediately fell to its side, lifeless. Hadrion didn't stay to admire his handywork, he turned searching for more targets. Diniel and Onzo's executioner were still locked in hand-to-hand combat, he rushed in to help when the first Tau stealthsuit stepped in his way. Bereft of its burst cannon, and right arm at the elbow, blood streaming from its face with a large knife in it hand. Hadrion charged, a roar on his lips as he smashed into the bulky suit.

 

Hadrion's momentum carried him through the tackle and he landed on top of the Tau. His bolt pistol skittered away during the the fall, but he retained his chainsword. He could feel the Tau try to kick him off, but a swift knee to the right thigh stopped that. The Tau also tried to stab him with the knife, but his thick ceremite armor was proof against puncture. He rose up on his knees and smashed his left fist into the face of the alien. Two more punches caved in its skull, purple alien blood and brain matter flying in all directions. He looked up as a fusion blaster discharged into the chest of Diniel, ceremite quickly turning to slag as the body slumped. Hadrion roared again, quickly tossed a grenade at the alien and scrambled to his feet.

 

The stealth suit that escaped into the street quickly scanned its surroundings and assessed the firewarriors pinned down needed assistance. With a boost, it jumped and crashed through the second story window knocking Corat off his feet in the process. It immediately opened up with its burst cannon, spraying the other two space marines as it tried to crush the transhuman beneath its feet. It crushed Corat's left hand under its foot, it could tell by the sickening crunch that is was broken. The marine with the heavy weapon was beginning to turn its way, the Tau let out another burst from its cannon catching the marine in the left flank before boosting through the ceiling to escape retribution.

 

The grenade arced over the Tau's head, bounced off the wall behind and detonated. Fragmentation pinged off Hadrion's armor, several hot shards penetrating through to his skin beneath. The Tau suffered worse but it stayed on its feet and prepared to fire its fusion blaster. Hadrion was about to die the same way his two battle brothers did unless he acted fast. His chainsword roared in his hand as a roar to the Lion and the Emperor roared from his lips, amplified by his helmets external speakers. The fusion blaster discharge; Hadrion could feel the heat as warning runes flashed on his visor display, but the shot went wide. The only damage was mostly of the dark green paint was vaporized on the left side of his armor. The fusion blaster was a deadly weapon, much like a meltagun, it superheated the molecules and melts through armor like a hot knife through a candle. Hadrion could hear the capacitors recharging, and he knew if the Tau pilot was able to squeeze off another shot, he would be dead in an instant. So he shot out his left hand and grabbed the weapon's housing in his fist. Warning runes flashed in his vision again informing him the armor was burning through from the intense heat. The pain in his left hand told him he had suffered sever burns, but he did not let go. He ignored both, and with intense strength, he pushed the appendage away from his body. He went to chop the arm off with his chainsword, but the Tau grabbed his right wrist in it's fist. The grip began to tighten, he could feel pressure on the wrist as the armored seal popped. The chainsword, still revving, loosened in his grip. Within moments he would be unarmed, so he did the only thing he could do, he headbutted the alien. The first strike dazed them both, the visor display flashing amber on Hadrion's helmet, a similar effect happened to the Tau's visor display. Hadrion didn't stop, he butted heads again and then a third time. The left eye lens cracked from the force of the blows, but so did the front eye piece of the Tau's battlesuit. A fourth headbutt shattered the left eye lens, the grip on the right wrist slackened. Hadrion headbutted the alien a fifth time, it staggered back a step, the left arm let go of Hadrion's right wrist. Instantly Hadrion capitalized on his superior physique and powered he chainsword through the meat of the Tau's left arm. Purple alien blood spurted from the damaged appendage as Hadrion elbowed the Tau with his right arm before reversing the direction and sliced through the top armor and skull of the alien with his chainsword.

 

The sounds of the greater fight returned to Hadrion, he spun around looking for another target but all he could see was Balin and Zephon finishing the last stealthsuit . He panned the floor, looking for his missing pistol but couldn't find it. He also tried to fix the view from his helmet display, but the left lens was cracked and dark and the right lens flickered intermittently with static. He quickly removed popped the seals and removed his helmet and mag-clamped it to his left hip. He knelt down besides Diniel, most of the chest cavity was melted away from the fusion blast, and said a prayer to the Lion and the Emperor to watch over his fallen battle brother as he picked up his bolter and spare ammo magazine. The Firewarriors were still concentrating fire on the second story, so Hadrion, Balin and Zephon prepared to charge outside.

 

Just as the three space marines rushed outside the left engine nacelle on the Devilfish transport exploded. Kenez and Julius were able to damage the vehicle with a few krak grenades, but the vehicle was still operational. The Firewarriors, taken by surprise by the explosion didn't see the three marines charging out of the building until it was too late. Three firewarriors were felled by well placed bolter rounds; two more immolated by burning promethium, the last of the died from an explosion of a frag grenade in their midst. Kenez and Julius had lobbed their remaining krak grenades in side the Devilfish and were yelling "Take cover!" when the explosion ripped out the left side of the transport. The hovering vehicle crashed to the ground billowing thick smoke in the air.

Hadrian looked up as Tolens heavy bolter roared again. The last battlesuit was putting up a fight on the second floor.

"Secure the scene, make sure they are all dead!" Hadrion yelled to Balin as he charged back into the building to assist the remainder of his squad.

 

Brother Ipes died when the stealthsuit crashed through the wall and jumped on top of him. The pilot sent several pulses from its burst cannon into his head, then jumped through the ceiling again to avoid retribution by the heavy bolter. Tolens roared in frustration as his heavy bolter roared in sympathetic gun fire. The heavy mass reactive rounds chewed through the ferrocrete, punching foot-sized holes in the ceiling. But he didn't hit the damned xenos. He released the trigger, the only sounds was the falling ferrocrete and the cooling pings of his heavy bolter.

Corat was reloading his bolter one-handed, his right hand crushed by the same stealthsuit they were now hunting. Tolens stood stock still, blood coated his lower torso and legs from the pulse rounds from the stealthsuits burst cannon. The energy rounds cauterized the wounds and his Larraman cells were forming thick clots over the entry wounds. He panned his heavy bolter from side to side, pointing at the ceiling, waiting for the Tau to smash through again. Corat signaled he was reloaded.

Tolens pointed his chin up at the ceiling, keeping his weapon pointed at a potential point of entry. Corat did likewise as Sergeant Hadrion moved into view in the stairwell. He copied his battle brothers and aimed at the ceiling, bringing his bolter to his shoulder and his cheek to the stock. There was a noise coming from the floor above, all three space marine immediately tracked to the noise but held fire. Hadrion battlesigned he was going to go upstairs and for the two to remain ready. He wanted to try and flush the stealthsuit back into the heavy bolters line of fire. Keeping his right hand on the trigger and the bolter tucked close to his cheek, Hadrion grabbed the last frag grenade from his belt and quietly crept up the stairs.

The third floor was an open office space with desks and chairs placed in rows, several had cogitators and logic machines on each. Many were riddled with weapons damage, chairs were strewn all of the place. Spots of dried blood stained most of the floor. Hadrion could see several large holes where the stealthsuit punched through, and many heavy bolter impacts as well. Hadrion panned the entire floor, looking for the telltale trace of the stealthsuit. It had engaged its active camouflage, so was invisible to the naked eye, but Brother Sergeant Hadrion was a well trained space marine and saw something out the corner of his eye. He threw the frag grenade in the general direction, moments later the stealthsuit powered through the floor as the grenade exploded above its head. He could hear the thump-thump-thump of Tolens heavy bolter as the two bracketed the stealthsuit with fire. Hadrion rushed down the stairs to see several more heavy bolter rounds chew through the armor and explode with the soft alien flesh beneath. With a single round, Hadrion fired into the top of the stealthsuits helmet exploding the head beneath. A moment later all was quiet except the breathing of of the three battle brothers.

"All clear." Hadrion yelled to the marines below in the street. Balin had directed all weapons gathered as before, and thrown into the inforno which was the Devilfish transport. As Hadrion led the other three down to street level, Balin walked up to him.

"Command is asking for a report. I informed them we had engaged two firewarrior patrols and one stealthsuit detachment with two combat losses and minor injuries."

"It is three casualties, Brother Ipes died as well." Hadrion stated matter-of-factly. "Also inform command we are low on ammunition and have expanded all grenades. We require resupply and casualty extraction."

Balin reported as instructed, as Hadrion detailed Julius and Kenez to gather their three fallen comrades together. He gave Brother Kenez Diniel's bolter to and stepped back into the ground floor. Underneath a small pile of ferrocrete he found his bolt pistol. He picked it up, checked the ammo magazine and placed the weapon back in his holster.

"Command is sending another squad to continue our patrol. Master Masarius wants to speak to you."

"Did they say why?"

"Negative Brother-Sergeant, but you are to report immediately to the Company Master upon return."

[Grand Master Belial]

An awesome submission with photos to boot! We are now 13 strong and showing signs that this competition is alive and well. 

[Grand Master Belial]

It's been a week and no posts. There is still plenty of time to join in and start work. Feel free to post snippets and WIP if you would like. 

 

Just to give some additional reading for the masses, I'll repost one of my Chronicle of Naaman pieces from a while back.

 

SAVING THE MASTER

 

The Land Speeder Storm raced above the treetops, the dark green armor of the speeder in sharp contrast to the dead and burnt branches they flew over. Naaman kept a firm grip on his weapons as the world whipped past him. His squad was being inserted to apply pressure on the mass of orks and hopefully getting them to split up. The orks had really made a mess of things in their short time but it was one that would not be allowed to continue. 

 

Their Warlord calling himself Da Smasha seemed content to just wreck everything that got in their way. Now it was the Dark Angels that was standing there and they fully intend to stop the path of destruction right here. Master Sheol and his Fourth Battle Company along with a large assortment of steel vehicles planned to spearhead a mechanized assault right through his mob — provided an opening can be created by a few Scout Squads.

 

Sergeant Jeddah kept his head out of the vehicle and gave instructions to the young pilots to find a place to insert ahead of the greenskins. Even though orks could barely hit the broadside of a cruiser with their armaments; it was not the place for the scout speeder to find glory. That was for the Ravenwing. The scouts’ only mission was to get their cargo to their location undetected.  

 

Jeddah apparently found what he was looking for as the speeder made a sharp turn and settled into a forested clearing with a commanding view. The scouts jumped and took up a defensive perimeter around the speeder as it lifted back up and returned to the staging area.

 

Naaman had failed to master the skills necessary to pilot the two-man speeder. He fared well in the second seat but it never did sit well whenever his feet left solid ground. Now that he was on the ground, his confidence came back to him and he felt once again in his element. Sergeant Jeddah signed them to advance with him and as a well practiced unit they consolidated into a moving formation into the trees. 

 

It was not long before they found themselves upon a promontory that provided cover as well as allowing the squad to affect a harassment mission on the greenskins. Naaman would not have needed his enhanced vision to see where the orks were and it didn’t take long to notice that they were coming their way. Naaman began checking the bolter in his hands, performing the rituals to check to see if the weapon was ready for war. He then began checking the bolt pistol and finally Chaplain Sapphon’s combat blade. Though all the other scouts carried similar blades, his was the only one with a history save the Sergeant’s. 

 

Jeddah was a full marine with enough skills and experience that it was deemed that he would be ideally suited to teach incoming neophytes the ways the Dark Angels make war. Naaman and the rest of the scouts noticed that their Sergeant missed being in the power armor of the full marines, but faithfully accepted the decision from the Inner Circle. In the years since, he has molded the 3rd Squad into a formidable squad that was fast proving that its members were ready to become full-marines themselves.

 

Naaman moved through the undergrowth with an agility that made surpassed most of the 10th Company. For the time being, his camo cloak was tied back to allow for ease of movement; but should the need arise, it would take an auspex to find Naaman in any sort of concealment. 

 

Scout Rampel by contrast was easily heard with his large build and the heavy bolter that seemed to get snagged with every step. Rampel simply pressed on ripping plants out as he passed. Scouts Cervial and Hofniel rounded out the combat squad. Both carried their bolters at the ready while Hofniel kept his shotgun slung behind him. Sergeant Jeddah kept his chainsword off while he pushed on to the front until he got to the point he had spotted from the air.

 

The edge of the forested area ended abruptly with a drop-off that gave an unimpeded view of the approach green horde. The drop was easily manageable for the Sons of the Lion but for now they waited in ambush. Further to the Southwest, the other half of the squad would have been in position with their sniper rifles to provide cover. Jeddah planned to the snipers to pin down groups of orks while Jeddah would use his group to sow confusion amongst the greenskins and hopefully pulling the horde into several directions. Elements of the Ravenwing would also try to split the horde into charging several different directions and drawing off any light vehicles that may be leading the mob.

 

Naaman looked to see that the mob was stretched out wide as well as long. He knew when looking from the strike cruiser that if the dust cloud was visible from orbit. The mob had to be massive. Though seeing it up close was another matter entirely. But this was by no means Naaman’s first war. To a scout, the lower the squad number, the closer they were to becoming a full marine. 

 

Jeddah looked out and told his scouts to get under cover. Rampel hunkered behind his heavy weapon. He knew it would be abandoned shortly so he kept saying prayers to the weapon’s spirit. Naaman suspected that it was superstition at best that kept so many Imperial citizens cooing and whispering to their weapons, but knowledge had power and the priests of Mars knew how to guard it well. 

 

Looking through the sights of his weapon, he kept a sharp eye for the darkest and biggest orks. They tended to be either leaders or elite troops. A large knot of them would be high level leader or even the one called Da Smasha. Naaman could barely suppress a smile at such a ridiculous name, but there was nothing ridiculous about them when their blood was up. Their too great strengths are their strength and their numbers. One-on-one a marine can almost always best an ork; but with numbers on their side, orks continually test the mettle of marines all over the Imperium and everyone else across the galaxy.

 

There! A group of some rather nasty looking orks hung out the sides of a large ramshackle vehicle that could be classed as a battle wagon. The ork on top had one arm end in a pneumatically driven claw while the other ended in a whirling buzz saw. It didn’t follow the description of Da Smasha, but then that would be rather selfish of a scout to deny a proven master his prize and selfishness had no place in the Dark Angels.

 

Jeddah’s voice came over the vox, “Hold your fire and let them pass on for the moment. Snipers line up on the orks on the battle wagon marked with crossed axes, the rest can pick a target up close. We wait for the Ravenwing to attack.”

 

The waiting game, the killer for most warriors ready for battle and it tries the patience of anyone. For the Dark Angels, patience is a skill that needed to be mastered before one can even take the field as a scout. Quite literally, for it was their scout armor the neophytes were waiting to be given. What made it agonizing is the lack of direction or things to occupy them as they waited. The scouts were left to their own devices, not knowing that they were closely watched and monitored. It not only helped the chaplains and sergeants with their training but it also saw aptitudes emerge from the neophytes that could either be cultured or needed to be quashed. Naaman often wondered what was discovered about him during those three long months of waiting. 

 

A click in his micro-bead pulled him out of his thoughts as he looked up to see a flight of five Ravenwing Tempests fly over the mob. Missiles streaked out of the sides of the armored craft as they each began to disable the larger ork creations. Their chin-mounted Assault Cannons unleashed a hail of rounds that tore apart flesh and metal alike. Several squadrons of land speeders began darting in and out of cover mowing down anything that came into range. From another direction came the biker squadrons that mocked their ork equivalents into races. The orks began to oblige the Dark Angel’s 2nd Company by belching black smoke and charging after the black armored marines. Many of the orks in the middle could be seen turning their heads trying to decide which fight they would rather join. Jeddah decided it was time to present another option. The sniper squad began to pick off the biggest orks within range. The orks looked thoroughly bewildered and then the order was given to attack. 

 

Naaman began firing on any ork that presented a shot. He was gratified to see that his shots were not only hitting their mark, but the mass-reactive bolts were doing horrendous damage as they punctured green flesh. Rampel continued to fire off bursts with his heavy bolter, sweeping targets near and far. Bolts were flying and Naaman noticed fire coming from other locations along the ridge indicating the presence of other Scout squads. The three pronged attack was beginning to have the desired effect, orks in vast numbers tended to be relatively predictable. Start a fight with a few and the rest will want to join in. With several fights, the orks tended to want to go to whatever battle suited them the best.

 

“Angels to me!” roared Sergeant Jeddah as he stood up and threw back his cloak. The nearest orks instantly began to scramble up to meet an opponent up close. The scouts kept up their rate of fire and continued to pummel all opposition that came their way. With well practiced drill, they staggered their magazine changes on their weapons so that there was never a lull in weapons fire. Cervial and Hofniel stood to the left of their Sergeant while Naaman stood abreast with Rampel on the other side. Five Scouts against thousands seemed like suicide, but they were Dark Angels. The first legion created by the Emperor and one that had even stood as his bodyguard until the finding of the Lion and the creation of the Custodians. 

 

In all the histories that the Scouts studied, not once did the Dark Angels surrender the field. They stood to the very end. In a battle that would see the Dark Angels defeated, the Angels made the opposition pay a horrible price for their victory. Often cutting down the force to the point that it could not stand up to any counter-attack. Now the visions of those marines that stood before insurmountable foes filled his mind. He would serve them proud as he would his fellow brothers and his chapter. In the course of his reflection, he had begun to yell a war yell. His squad mates and even their Sergeant picked up on it and were also beginning to yell. Rampel punctuated it with longer bursts of the heavy weapon now held at the waist. 

 

The greenskins showed signs of fear as they were unsure what was causing these few to stand so strong against so many. The bigger bosses were not as easily deterred and began smacking their brethren out of their way. Wielding axes of an impossibly large size, they clawed their way up the slope on the backs of living as well as dead orks. With a sputtering cough, Jeddah’s chainsword came to life as he had slung the bolter and was prepared for close-combat. As more orks got closer, each scout switched to their close-combat gear.

 

Years spent honing skills of combat came to the fore as the Scouts quickly measured up their opponents and then the blood-letting began in earnest. Naaman knew his greatest asset was both knowledge and speed. The fungi-born orks had numbers and strength in their favor, but Naaman let that pass. His mind was in the moment and all else meant nothing. With fluid grace, Naaman’s long blade deftly got through to continually strike whatever ork got close. The razor edge parted the thick leathery hide it touched, but it was not enough to bring the xenos creature down. Even the strength of an Astartes was not enough to simply kill an ork outright. Naaman’s skill with the blade kept him from being harmed but it wasn’t until he used his bolt pistol that he was able to quickly end a combat before engaging in another.

 

Jeddah was covered in viscera as the spinning teeth tore through huge chunks of flesh. Of all the scouts, the chainsword wielding sergeant seems to be making the largest kill tally. Having either lost or disposed of his pistol, he held his short blade in his other arm. One would redirect blows away while the other rained killing blows. 

 

Hofniel still held onto his shotgun and kept pumping shot after shot in a vain effort to keep the creatures away. As proficient as all the scouts were, Hofniel preferred ranged weapons over blades. The armor casing on his weapon showed a few new nicks as he quickly flipped it up to redirect a massive axe that was intent to split him completely in half. Once the blade past, Hofniel would trigger the weapon and see the ork’s head exploded spectacularly.  

 

From time to time the sniper scouts would assist with well placed shots to nullify an ork that managed to get around to the flank. Just when they thought they would get into battle they would suddenly keel over dead. The orks nearby seemed not to notice as they were too busy trying to get into the scrap themselves. As the dead began to pile up, the scouts gave ground to give them fresh footings. They did not even notice that missiles had begun to fly over their head to land in the mob behind them.

 

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The Ravenwing kept up their attacks as well, drawing away and then destroying as many xenos vehicles as they could. Typhoons began launching missiles in earnest until depleted. Heavy flamers and assault cannons burned and chewed through scores of greenskins. Their skilled riders able to nimbly keep their machines away from the mobs while still reaping a deadly toll. 

 

Master Sheol had jumped out of his Damocles and joined a squad embarked on a Crusader variant Land Raider. The squad was all veterans who had survived the death of their former squad but for whatever reason, did not become a member of the Deathwing. The Veterans of the 4th Company were a grizzled lot and familiar enough with Master Sheol’s tactical acuity with vehicles. Surrounded by Razorbacks and Predators, the Crusader and several Tactical Squads in Rhinos drove into the horde. At their head a line breaker squadron of Vindicators pounded away with their short ranged high explosive rounds and their massive dozer blades. They provided a mass of steel that scattered the orks that survived the mobile hell storm. A few greenskins would try to attack the vehicles but their weapons glanced off the thick dark green armor of the Dark Angels’ vehicles. 

 

+++

 

The greenskins halted their attack on the scouts as they heard the booming demolisher cannons. It didn’t take long for the bigger orks to begin to turn and move toward the armored spearhead as that seemed a more fitting fight for an ork with some stature. As the larger orks left the area, the scouts found their battle got significantly easier as just the smaller orks and gangly little gretchin kept up the attack. Hofniel’s shotgun kept blasting away turning the gretchin to a red mist while ripping large chunks of flesh from the orks. 

 

Missiles from a passing Typhoon landed dangerously close to the scouts but it had the desired effect. The orks were leaving the scouts to go after the 4th Company. The scouts began to melt into the foliage when Naaman caught sight and crept to investigate. He came across the remains of Sergeant Jeddah. He was nearly cloven in two from a massive weapon strike to his back that crushed the scout armor as if it were made of parchment. Naaman signed a fellow scout, Cervial, forward to retrieve the body so that his Progenoid Glands could be harvested and allow another marine to be created. It wasn't until they turned the body over that Naaman noticed the savage cut across the neck that nearly decapitated their sergeant. 

 

In a flash of thought, Naaman recalled all the training he had received on the ork and there was very little that indicated that level of cunning. He remembered how some orks had been impressed by humanity's prowess on the field of battle that they began wearing various camouflage patterns. More images implanted through the many neuro-training sessions brought up a select few images of orks that appeared to have an unnatural level of cunning. Naaman scanned the receding green tide and caught a group of them moving diagonally in comparison to the rest of the green tide. His enhanced eyesight was able to pick out details and he instantly recognized the elements of stealth the small group was employing. 

 

Unlike the rest of the orks, these did not appear to be caught up in the battle lust and were not engaging the Dark Angels. In fact they appeared to be lying in wait for something. A quick glance showed the advancing spearhead approaching the ambush site concealed within the massive ranks of the orks. Naaman reached down and took their fallen sergeant's vox-bead headset. As expected, there were further active frequencies that Naaman's own vox was not receiving. One of them was from the Land Speeder Storm that had exfiltrated the sniper squad and was asking for a location. 

 

"Storm 6, this is Naaman of the 3rd Scout Squad, Requesting pickup at promontory point one half klick east of initial landing zone."

 

"Understood Naaman, what's your status?"

 

"Our sergeant is with the Lion. Remaining squad is combat effective."

 

"Naaman, this is Hezekiah. Confirm status of Jeddah."

 

"Sergeant Jeddah has been slain. His throat had been cut."

 

"Scout, are you telling me a battle-crazed ork took a sergeant of the Dark Angels by surprise?" 

 

Naaman stood in stunned silence. He felt like the small child he once was when he first arrived at the Rock only a few years ago. Again he used his memory to recall the last memories he had of the Sergeant, "Negative sir. Sergeant Jeddah was being assailed by several opponents. He was unable to counter all attacks."

 

"Understood, report back to Primary."

 

"Master, I would be negligent if I did not report that it is possible that the same group that struck down the sergeant will attempt to strike down Master Sheol."

 

"Explain"

 

"There are a group of orks along the line of advance that appear to be lying in wait for the Spearhead to pass. They are not attempting to engage."

 

It was a short time before a response came back, "Report received, report to Primary for reassignment.  Storm is on route."

 

Naaman clicked off the link and looked to the squad, “Stand by for pick up.” There were barely noticeable changes as the Scouts realized their part was done in this battle. Naaman felt it too. Without Jeddah, the rest of the Chapter saw them as whelps and not brothers. Only when they took on the black carapace did they become brothers and their isolation from the rest of the chapter be lifted. 

 

But not to Naaman and the rest of the squad, they were already brothers. Naaman grabbed the magnoculars and focused on the group. Several of the orks were clutching a series of contraptions, but it was one in particular that got his attention. What looked to be a crude hammer turned out to be a missile on a stick, the disgusting aspect was the missile looked to have been looted from some Imperial Guard unit. The range was too great for Rampel’s heavy bolter and none had a sniper rifle.

 

Naaman blew out his breath to calm the frustration when he heard the approaching speeder. The effects of the quick skirmish allowed the speeder to come in on top of the corpses and the squad loaded Jeddah’s body and piled into the troop compartment. 

 

Naaman signaled the pilot to switch to a private frequency. “How can I serve?”

 

Naaman replied, “See that pocket of orks there. Drop us off there and take the Sergeant’s body back to Primary.”

 

“Are you not ordered to go to Primary as well?”

 

“Yes, we are. I’ll assume full responsibility for this, but I believe Master Sheol will need assistance from us shortly.”

 

The two crew exchanged glances, they were younger and less experienced than Naaman and his fellow scouts, but they also wanted to prove themselves as well. Unlike Naaman, they sought a place in the vaunted Ravenwing - the elite cadre of marines whose skill with bike or speeder was second to none. If they wanted to be accepted there, they had to make an impression and with the black speeders whipping around out there, they might have a chance. “Let’s make them proud, brother!”

 

Naaman and the rest of the squad piled on and Naaman took the place that was recently occupied by their Sergeant. With a jolt, they were off. The pilots circled back around to look for the best avenue of approach. The Ravenwing’s attacks were coordinated and the Scouts knew by breaking with their orders they would have to blend into the Ravenwing’s attack pattern. Now if they could only time it right…

 

+++

 

Sheol listened to the number of pings echoing off the armor of the Crusader as he readied his weapons. The auspex screen was awash in life signs but they were making progress. The Vindicators kept up a punishing barrage as they cleared a path into the heart of the ork horde. The monitors mounted on the wall of the tank showed the punishing firestorm that his 

Company was unleashing against the greenskins. The amount of ammunition expended would have galled many an Imperial Guard general but the effect was immediate.

 

The green tide had come up against solid resistance and for a moment appeared to have had its momentum broken. The harrying forces of Scouts and Ravenwing began to stretch out the Orks so that their numerical superiority was temporarily annulled. Now that the fighting was thickest in their midst, the tide had surrounded the spearhead and were attempting to overwhelm it with its numbers. 

 

Already, several tanks were reporting jams with their sponson weapons and in one case they had a runaway heavy bolter that had gotten so hot that as soon as a shell was loaded it would fire. One of the Razorbacks had lost their turret from their lascannon barrels warping from overuse. For all their weapon malfunctions, not a single tank had been lost as of yet. The Techmarines had done their jobs well and the three that had joined the spearhead were already affecting repairs even as the spearhead advanced. It wasn’t until the shockwave reverberated around the inner hull of the Land Raider that Sheol realized that something new had been encountered.

 

Through the monitors, a predator sat burning and immobile as orks began to swarm over it. The orks carried a number of weapons consisting in some way of a missile on a device. Sheol looked as an ork wielded a missile at the end of a stick much like a hammer and strike the side of the left Vindicator. The ork disappeared in a spray of gore but it looked as if the Vindicator had been immobilized.

 

“Drop the ramp, we can go no further. Veterans, take out any orks carrying explosives.” 

 

Sheol managed to quickly get his helmet on before the central deployment ramp parted. In a practiced motion the veterans descended and pushed out to allow their brothers to follow them out and increase a perimeter around the raider. The Master took to the field with power sword and combi-melta and set to work dispatching any ork within range. The hurricane bolters on the Crusader were red hot as they continued to fire near continuously. Splattered gore covered every vehicle in sight as a testament of the awesome fury of the Dark Angels.

 

The battlewagon with the War boss was within visual sight but it was too far from the Dark Angels spearhead. Cursing to himself he opened a link to Master Gideon of the Ravenwing, “Ironwing ineffective, good hunting Ravenwing.”

 

“Acknowledged.” Both Gideon and Sheol had fought together on numerous occasions and both knew their duties and responsibilities. It bothered Sheol that his plan had failed and that he had to turn to the elite Ravenwing to complete his mission. Gideon’s responsibilities lie outside those of a standard battlefield commander. They were a group of marines dedicated to recon and fast actions, not a protracted action against a foe as insignificant as an ork.

 

His anger at his failure fueled his actions against any ork that crossed his path. Most of these orks lacked any kind of weapon that could repel a power sword. A flick of a wrist would remove a massive hand down to the elbow or slice through knees with ease. Sheol didn’t kill them outright; his anger led him to make the orks suffer. Even the veterans have caught on and have left a trail of maimed orks wallowing in the churned surface of the planet. Most would live on due to their extreme resiliency but to become a fighter again would require them to visit their Doks. A smile crossed his face at the thought of these dumb greenskins version of an Apothecary and how their form of surgery must be truly barbaric — a fitting punishment for them.

 

An explosion behind him brought him out of his thoughts, he had progressed out beyond the perimeter of steel and with a quick glance he realized he was isolated. Where were his veterans?

 

+++

 

Naaman kept his eyes on the battle unfolding around him. The pilot of the Storm told him of the Ravenwing redeploying to follow their Master onto the field of battle. It created the opening the Scouts needed to join their brothers of the 4th Company. The four man squad quickly rearmed themselves from the onboard ammo storage and Rampel decided to help in the defense of the speeder by firing his own heavy bolter out the port side of the aircraft. 

 

Naaman had heard of the variants of the Storm that boasted missiles and jamming equipment, but the distrust between the Sons of the Lion and some of the other chapters has led them to receive the template for only a basic version. The Dark Angels did not complain for they had the Ravenwing and a simple scout transport was all they needed. The Sons of the Lion could turn anything to their tactical advantage if needed and here they were, doing just that. 

 

Cervial maintained a firm grip on Rampel to keep him from falling as the Speeder began to make its run over the heads of the orks. Jeddah’s chainsword rested next to him waiting for his moment of vengeance. Rampel let off a stream of shells that was augmented by a constant yell. Hofniel also took shots with his bolter out the starboard side but it just didn’t have the rate of fire as the heavy bolter.

 

Naaman’s keen eyesight kept him focused on Sheol and the swath he was cutting in the greenskins. Other marines around him pressed out to engage the orks but as the veterans went passed the depression the orks hidden there attacked. The veterans were being ambushed from the rear. One marine disappeared in an explosion along with an ork that Naaman thought was swinging a hammer. Naaman vowed that these cunning orks had to be eliminated and quickly.

 

The pilot came in on the private link, “Any ideas on where you want us to land?”

 

“Combat drop right on top of them, that’ll surprise them and allow you to get clear.”

 

“Understood”

 

The sea of green flashed by under them so fast that they rarely took incoming fire. The occasional shot rang off the armor plating but it seemed so far between that they were not even in combat. The pilot took a special pleasure as he raced along and with a slight serpentine motion that kept the orks already poor aim so that they could only be hit by a stray shot. But the motion also gave the pilot a chance to occasionally turn the exhaust of the speeder down on the orks. The wash of the jet engines bowled over scores of orks and perhaps scorching a few along the way. “I’ve got an idea. I’ll go vertical overhead to knock them down. That should give you a chance to take down a few more of them.”

 

“Understood” Naaman was maintaining focus on Sheol as the pocket raced up to them. Switching frequencies, he let the rest of the squad know that it was time. Just like Jeddah had done just a short time before.

 

“May the Master and the Lion forgive us.” Naaman knew it was wrong to go against orders and he hoped that little prayer would assuage his conscience long enough as the Storm quickly slowed down and the four men leapt clear just as the vehicle stood on its tail and rocketed skyward.

 

Naaman held himself in tight as he rolled onto his feet, blade and pistol in hand. The wash had done its job of knocking over every ork in a tight radius around the now prone marine Master. Cervial wasted no time as he cleaved through a pair of orks with the chainsword and went after others as they were getting back up. Naaman made it to Sheol’s side and saw an ork trying to crawl under the undergrowth. With a cry he leapt onto the ork with his combat blade reversed into a coup de grace that saw the blade sever the spine of the ork. 

 

Naaman pulled the blade out in time to see a monstrously large ork attack. This one had on camouflage garments that actually seemed to match the terrain. It held a pair of massive knives in a way that almost seemed skilled. One blade looked very similar to Naaman’s own but in the ork’s hand it looked tiny. The ork fired a massive left fist at the scout. Naaman parried and tried to aim his pistol but the ork smacked it aside with the other with so much force that Naaman lost his grip on it.

 

The guttural laughter was deep and taunting. It was actually toying with Naaman. The scout shrugged off the rush of emotions knowing that only through being calm could he best an opponent. Cervial came from the left and charged the beast. His armor was cracked and dented from the hard landing and he took to favoring a leg. The ork took up the new threat in stride but still exuded confidence. 

 

Cervial came in with a slice of his sword trying to cut off a limb of the beast. The ork was far quicker than expected and not only dodged the blow, but struck with a thunderous fist strike that cracked the scout’s chest armor and knocked Cervial out cold. Hofniel, stunned by the laying out of Cervial was distracted a moment too long as an ork choppa cleaved through Hofniel’s arm and lower leg like a butcher calmly preparing a cut of meat. Rampel bull rushed the ork but even his massive hulk was small compared to the ork who took to laughing at Rampel's paltry attack. 

 

Rampel had another idea. Slamming into the immovable ork, he quickly placed a frag grenade into the satchel it carried. The explosion shredded one side of the ork and it fell backwards with a look of confusion on its face. The ork would have lived but a pair of orks trod over its mangled body without a passing thought. Rampel threw a few more grenades before taking up Cervial's bolter that he brought from the storm and began unloading on every ork he could.

 

Naaman took the first explosion as a distraction that allowed him to strike the ork infiltrator a glancing cut. The ork responded with a backhanded slap that narrowly missed the Dark Angel Scout as he dove into a roll. Naaman used the momentum to come back on his feet and thrust a sword strike to another ork's throat. Naaman withdrew the blade with a fluid grace to bring the blade back to the infiltrator but it was not the close combat sword that got the ork's immediate attention, it was the second sword in the scout's offhand. A diamond-tipped blade that hummed and sizzled with energy as it began a series of fluid movements that saw the ork losing his blades to the second sword as if it were carrying nothing.

 

The ork began to remember who had held the sword previously and began to respond as he did before. The massive meaty hand grabbed a nearby ork and launched it at the scout. Naaman was unencumbered and dodged the flying ork and dispatched it as it passed. The infiltrator followed close behind swinging a massive fist. Naaman accepted the blow and turned outside of it allowing himself a spin that brought both blades around in a body slash with the scout sword but a thrust strike into the side of the beast with the power sword. Naaman continued to turn and withdrew the blade without any difficulty; bring it to bear on another ork closing on their position. 

 

The ork's head erupted as a bolt punctured it from the side. Naaman thought it was Rampel who had fired the shot, but then more blossoms of blood began to erupt in other orks coming into the depression. An Assault squad of the Fourth had come in to assist the two scout's in pushing back the horde. Rampel had taken up Jeddah's chainsword from Cervial and slashed with it while launching rounds from the bolter one-handed. In such a close combat, the lack of accuracy hardly mattered. Naaman took to slicing out with both blades. The monomolecular edge of the scout sword left a series of cuts but the power sword quickly debilitated anything it came across.

 

Together the two scouts and a squad of assault marines held a cordon around Sheol as the Apothecary fought through to the prone master and as a unit the marines fell back to the tanks. The Ravenwing vehicles had begun to run dry of missiles, leaving the Speeders and Tornados to strafe the orks with their heavy weapons as the Tempests and Typhoons returned to reload. The Whirlwinds had resumed their bombardment with precision placement of their munitions to keep the pressure off the beleaguered spearhead.

 

The Techmarines had affected repairs to a number of immobile vehicles allowing them to slowly withdraw. Members of the 5th and 6th Tactical squad had taken up the task of recovering the fallen during the fighting to return their weapons and armor to the chapter should they be unable to serve in life. They gathered up the two fallen scouts and placed them inside a rhino that held several other wounded marines. As they gathered up their master Naaman quickly relinquished the sword and took up his bolt pistol. He quickly snapped off rounds, trying to hit the tiny eyes of any ork that continued to close. 

 

“Get back to the tanks, scout!”

 

Though it was tempered by the helmet’s voxcaster, the authoritarian tone was unmistakable. Naaman glanced back to see the sergeant of the assault marines glower down at him in between bashing orks to pulp with a power fist and blasting them with his plasma pistol. Naaman withdrew from the line and made his way back to the tanks following the ad hoc honor guard that accompanied Master Sheol to the Crusader. Rampel was already ahead of him and had climbed on top of the rhino holding the rest of the squad. Once inside the phalanx of steel, Naaman began to pick his way towards Rampel when a heavy gauntlet clamped down on his shoulder.

 

“You are with us.”

 

Naaman began to turn back. Rampel gave a quick nod in between shots. Naaman quickly snapped shots between vehicles blasting apart a couple of small gangly orkoids before going up the ramp of the Crusader. The ramp quickly closed behind him and the marine that grabbed him. The hiss of the locking mechanism seemed like sealing of Naaman’s doom. He couldn’t help but feel small in the presence of not only the Master of the Fourth but also of all the eye lenses that bored into him. The only one not looking at the scout was the Apothecary busily working to remove plates of armor to check the extent of the master’s injuries.

 

The Crusader began to reverse its course. The marine that had grabbed him removed his helm. The service stud embedded in his skull denoted him as a Sergeant. Lowering his armored bulk on the bench inside the vehicle he stood stock still with his eyes always on the scout in their midst. Naaman gleaned from the corner of his eyes the movement of the other marines. If they were talking, it was over a short ranged micro-bead link between each other.

 

The sergeant’s piercing gaze never left and Naaman began to feel as small as he did when he first joined the chapter. He took to standing at attention even though the Crusader bounced and jostled around him. He didn’t know what to expect, but he stood there. He began to notice that he had not escaped unscathed. He felt the clotted blood all over himself. None appear to be serious, but as he stood there waiting, the aches of battle began to creep into his system. Naaman didn’t banish the pain but let it linger. 

 

Master Sheol began to rouse as the apothecary administered to his grievous wounds. The master would live to fight another day, but the wound that hurt most wasn’t physical. The mere thought of failing a mission against a xenos that never espoused any level of higher intelligence was a blow that would leave a lasting impression.  Sheol waved over the sergeant and to Naaman it seemed the master was asking for a status of the mission. The plain truth that came forth was like vinegar on an open wound, Sheol winced at the losses, but something else grabbed his attention — the mention of the Naaman and his fellow scouts. Sheol looked down and saw Naaman standing at attention. 

 

“What is your name Scout?”

 

“Naaman, Master”

 

“Am I your Master?”

 

“As is Master Hezekiah”

 

“Then why did you fail to listen to your masters. I recall that no scout would be a part of the main assault. Master Hezekiah knew this better than me, so what brings a scout to violate the orders of a master and plunge into a battle unsupported and take up a Heavenfall Blade.”

 

Naaman was floored for the second time that day. The mention of the sacred swords sent Naaman’s mind into a vortex of memories. Looking down, he saw plainly the dark blade covered in gore. The pommel was exactly like the one that Naaman felt in his hand as he attacked the orks.

 

“I am still waiting for a response, scout.”

 

“In our phase of the battle, it was found that our blades were inadequate to the task of dispatching the larger orks quickly.”

 

“So you felt it necessary to take up a sword that is ONLY given by Grand Master Azrael himself.”

 

“Only here did I realize that I had taken up the sacred sword. In battle, I saw a way to improve my chances to remain combat effective until you could be recovered from the field.”

 

“Sergeant Josiah has informed me that as his squad moved up, he encountered four scouts. He verified at least that you were holding back the orks from me, but what of your fifth? Did you abandon him to protect me?”

 

“No, Master, He died during the initial phase of the assault. His manner of death alerted my squad to the threat of assassins amongst the orks.”

 

“So who led you into battle by my side?”

 

“I led them.”

 

Master Sheol looked up at the ceiling of the tank. The pings of small arms had ceased and the ride had smoothed out. They were away from the orks.

[djgoldsmith]

Didn't see a closing date, and may as well use the Christmas break to try something new.

I, djgoldsmith, Scribe of the Unforgiven, in the name of the Lion, make this oath of moment to submit a completed story about one of the many battles for between the brave warriors of the 4th company, and the nefarious eldar.

 

So turn a batrep into a story, most didn't end well but it could be fun.

[Grand Master Belial]

Closing is February 1, 2015. This should give everyone some form of holiday that will allow them to write up something.

 

Welcome aboard djgoldsmith. This is something a little different and hopefully it will become another regular fixture to the B&C. (Librarium Writing Challenge? Anybody? No?)

[Epimetheus13]

I'm done! I've had the ideas behind this story for a while, and this competition was a perfect time to write it all down.

 

This story is based on my first real games of 40K, which was a 6th edition Beginner's-level round robin tournament run at my local GW. I faced Chaos Marines, Blood Angels, Tau, Dark Angels, and more Chaos Marines in 500-1,250 pt battles. There was no narrative to these games, so I went ahead and invented one for myself. I hope you enjoy!

 

=====================================

 

"THE SALVATION OF JANIVER XIV"

 

When the Night of a Thousand Rebellions blazed across the Segmentum Pacificus, the Guardians of the Covenant were among the first Chapters to react. The Chapter undertook dozens of missions to restore the Emperor's rule on worlds in revolt. One such mission, led by the Codicier Eben Battus, was dispatched to the backwater world of Janiver XIV.

 

A largely feudal world, Janiver XIV held little cultural or economic value to the Imperium, but if seized by the insurgents, it would provide a base from which Chaos forces would launch a campaign of terror across the sector. Loyal Planetary Defence Forces kept a fragile hold on the capital city and the planet's spaceport, but their resolve grew weaker by the day and the defection of their much of their officer corp to the rebellion left them scattered, leaderless and uncoordinated. Eben Battus was charged with rallying the loyalist remnants and turning the tide against the rebellion.

 

In a council of war, Battus outlined his strategy. Task Force Battus would be a rapid response force consisting of bike-mounted recon squads and mechanized infantry in Razorbacks, augmented by landspeeder Typhoons and the hammerblow of Convenio Arcanum Terminators. These highly mobile armies, though small in number, were nimble enough to deploy wherever needed while possessing sufficient firepower to eradicate whatever opposition they encountered - the ideal strategic response to stamp out the bushfires of rebellion that inflamed the Segmentum Pacificus. The Codicier's plan was deemed sound by the Chapter and, by the blessings of the Emperor and the Rites of the Sundered Shield, Task Force Battus departed to Janiver XIV.

 

* * * *

 

Eben Battus gazed out into space from the bridge of the frigate Implacable Will. Below him, Janiver XIV spun gently in the void, a green-and-white mottled orb, aloof from the violence of the millions of beings who vied to claim it as their own. The debilitating effects of total war had not yet pock-marked the planet's surface with fire, debris and ruin. Only in the capital city, Lorentze, could the footprint of war be seen from space: black smoke, crumbled cityscape, and flares of artillery fire.

 

The world seemed peaceful now, not unlike the Guardians' homeworld of Mortikah VII. But its fate hung in the balance. Battus knew that if Janiver - currently forgotten, unimportant, ignored - was allowed to fall into the clutches of traitors and renegades, the Imperium's retribution would be as overwhelming as it was inevitable. Green fields would be scorched and the planet riven asunder, caught between the pawns of Chaos and the thunderous doom of a thousand tanks of the Astra Militarum. The Emperor's servants would lay waste to the very earth to drive out the chaos incursion, but Eben Battus understood that victory over a barren, lifeless planet would be merely one step closer to the long-term ruin of humanity.

 

By his sacred oaths in service to the Emperor and to the Unforgiven, Eben Battus silently pledged that he would save Janiver and its people while they were still worth saving.

 

"Incoming message," droned one of the ship's servitors. "Decryption complete in three minutes."

 

Battus turned away from the viewport and moved to his command console. Prior to the Task Force's arrival, the Chapter had sent ahead agents to gather as much information as possible on rebel communications, troop movements and the traitors' armaments and capabilities. Such whispered secrets were not hard for the Chapter to acquire: millennia of scouring the Segmentum Pacificus for clues leading to the Fallen, building an information network for the Unforgiven that was second to none, had made the Guardians experts at sifting through gossip and hearsay to tap into the veins of truth. This intelligence was overlaid onto Imperial accounts of Janiver's topography, psycho-cultural profile, and history. Knowledge was power, and the Guardians of the Covenant would rarely go to war without arming themselves with as much information as possible.

 

"Decryption completed. Message available to Fleet Commander," intoned the servitor.

 

Battus tapped the sacred command keys that compelled the machine spirits to lay the latest intelligence before him. Ravenously, his eyes scanned the lines of text for the critical information he needed...there. The location of the enemy Warlord, a Slaaneshi traitor marine named Acciacato, had been confirmed in Lorentze for the next standard hour.

 

The Codicier lifted the command vox-caster and snapped out his orders. "All Brethren, report immediately to the docking bay for planetary deployment."

 

Battus' plan sought to put the rebel armies back on a level footing with the Janiverii defence forces by eliminating their commanders and obtaining their battle plans and transmissions. Cut off the head and the body will wither.

 

The time for watching and prayer was over. Now, the Guardians of the Covenant would act.

 

* * * *

 

Despite Battus' painstaking preparations, the first engagement with the enemy met with only moderate success. The Guardians struck swiftly and without mercy, eliminating Acciacato's entourage while barely taking any casualties. Twice, the Chaos Lord was cornered and by all rights should have perished in a hail of plasma and bolter fire - yet twice, he and his surviving hooded bodyguard escaped through some unknown power of the warp.

 

Through great individual bravery, Sargeant Lucius had engaged the Warlord in individual combat and managed a partial scan of the dataslate battle plans carried by the traitor commander. It revealed a large force of renegade marines, blood-mad companies of death, camped just outside the capital. The destruction of the Warlord's personal warband had bought the defenders of Lorentze some respite, but it would be fleeting if the renegade marines were brought to bear on the tattered defences of the Janiverii defence forces.

 

Battus made a quck decision. The full task force would strike outside Lorentze and ambush the renegade marines before they could launch their assault. To do so, they would need to fight through a vital river crossing held by a force of mercenary xenos, before finding and engaging the renegade marines in battle. To commit Battus' full force against two separate armies was a highly risky decision, especially so early in the campaign, but the Codicier knew he needed to press his advantage before the rebels could react to the arrival of the Unforgiven strike force. There was no time to lose.

 

The mobility and firepower of the Adeptus Astartes proved their worth. Siezing the initiative, Eben Battus led his brothers fearlessly across the river, driving the pale grey xenos from their defensive positions in waves of bolter fire. The bikes and attack bikes of Squad Elias performed admirably in spite of taking grevious casualties as they charged the enemy; their sacrifices bought time for their brethren to cross the river and bring their firepower to bear. The aliens were wiped out, and the Guardians of the Covenant were left unimpeded to execute their attack on the unsuspecting traitor marines.

 

The Astartes' wrath was swift and terrible. The remnants of biker Squad Elias drove unflinching into the teeth of the enemy force, carrying their teleport homers as close as possible to the black-armoured, bloodcrazed horde before them. Moments before the battlelines clashed, the hulking shapes of Convenio Arcanum Terminators appeared on the battlefield, followed a split-second later by the staccato fire of assault cannon and storm bolter. The renegades took heavy casualties, but in their madness pressed on. The centre of the battlefield became a swirling melee of power fist, chainsword and bolter fire.

 

While the Unforgiven assault caused havoc amidst the enemy line, the remaining Guardians took up defensive positions and eliminated target after target through sustained and coordinated firepower. The Terminators suffered grevious casualties, but emerged bloody victors from the brutal combat. Eben Battus led Tactical Squad Lucius in a flanking charge to support the fearless veterans of the First Company, while plasma cannon and typhoon missiles provided covering fire. As dusk fell, the renegades had virtually all been slain, and the Guardians of the Covenant were masters of the battlefield.

 

Upon their return to Lorentze, the Guardians were hailed by the Janiverii as heroes. Battus had succeeded in his audacious blitzkrieg and dramatically shifted the balance of power around the city. Moreover, the Implacable Will had sent another message: the frigate's servitors had confirmed the location of a rebel datacache, replete with deployment positions, roster strengths and tactical battleplans. While the bike and Terminator squads awaited repairs and replenishment from the Implacable Will, Battus ordered his infantry squads to board the Razorbacks and, escorted by a Typhoon landspeeder, raced towards the location of the datacache.

 

As the Unforgiven neared their target, Eben Battus received further intelligence - a band of traitor marines were likewise converging upon the datacache. Battus realized the opportunity for an ambush and instructed his men to seek high ground and clear firing lines. Clad in flowing robes, the renegades strode fearlessly down the debris-scattered street - and were mowed down by lascannon, bolter, plasma and krak missile fire. Their war-captain attempted to organize a counter-attack, but it was too late. Not a soul survived the Guardians' fury. One traitor successfully retrieved the datacache and ran for the shelter of a ruined basilica, but he was shot down as he reached the threshold. When the shooting was over, Battus calmly strode over and plucked his prize from the dead marine's hands.

 

With the vital intelligence in Imperial possession, the tide began to turn. In the following 12 hours, the Janiverii Planetary Defence Force launched a dozen pinpoint counterattacks. Misinformation flooded the enemy transmissions, while rebel forces were ambushed, munitions pillaged and command posts destroyed. The rebels were stretched thin, and it was then that Battus launched his final assault.

 

The datacache had revelaed the new location of the Slaaneshi warlord, Acciacato. The Janiverii counterattack had drawn away the Warlord's forces and left him with just a small force of Noise Marines for protection. Battus siezed the opportunity to attack the traitor directly with his full task force.

 

* * * *

 

Biker squads converged on Acciacato's position and immediately called upon the veteran Terminators of the Convenio Arcanum. Although the Noise Marines were well-ensconced in their fortifications, the Guardians poured an unstoppable fusilade of bolter and plasma fire into the traitors' defences, and the Noise Marines' firebase became a charnelhouse.

 

As the Adeptus Astartes advanced on the warlord's position, the skies above roiled with smoke and thunder. With an ear-shattering crack, reality itself was torn asunder. The stench of sulphur fell heavily onto the battlefield as three columns of lashing tongues and tentacles leapt out from the Warp rift. A trio of Obliterators crossed the makeshift bridges onto the battlefield, cannons blazing. The Guardians took heavy casualties and were forced to fall back under heavy fire. Just before the Warp rift closed, an edged shadow bolted out into the sky and a metallic screech pierced the air - a fell Heldrake had joined the battle.

 

Eben Battus felt no fear as he looked to the skies - only a grim realization of what the Obliterators' appearance meant and a stoic acceptance that he and his brothers would likely meet their doom today. But they would fight to the end to see their mission through. Battus sent one last psychic message to the servitors aboard the Implacable Will, then ordered his infantry forward into the fray, with a Razorback and Typhoon landspeeder providing covering fire.

 

The Heldrake dived into biker Squad Elias, raking and clawing with quicksilver speed. With the loyal Astartes distracted by the mechanical daemon, Acciacato siezed his chance. He and his bike-mounted bodyguard raced out of their ruined defences into combat against the Guardians. Sargeant Elias bravely met the Warlord's challenge but he was casually cloven in two and brushed aside. In the centre of the battlefield, the Obliterators turned their arsenal upon the Terminators and even their legendary armour could not save all of them.

 

The Guardians of the Covenant surged forward. Eben Battus led an infantry charge through a wall of the Heldrake's balefire, his power field generator and the Astartes' faith protecting them from harm. With a cry to the Emperor, the Codicier charged into Acciacato's retinue. The Warlord spat a challenge, and Sargeant Lucius was first to step forward to accept. He duelled skillfully and courageously, but the Warlord was a canny fighter of a millennia of warfare and this time Lucius was cut down. Brimming with fury, Eben Battus fought his way through Acciacato's bikers and called out a challenge of his own.

 

Elsewhere, the traitor marines began to win the upper hand. The Terminators charged through a hail of fire to engage the Obliterators in melee. Only Master Kapziel survived, fighting through the pain of his wounds to hack the foul daemon apart. Yet even as the Guardian turned to face the next Obliterator, a salvo of plasma fire punched through his armour and the venerable Master clattered to the ground. Behind them, the Heldrake swooped and dove at the Razorback, wrenching off its lascannon turret in its claws. The Typhoon landspeeder raced towards the last Obliterator and unleashed its full payload of krak missiles and heavy bolter rounds, but the mutated beast seemed to absorb the heavy weapon fire. Moments later, a meltagun barrel sprouted from its chest and blasted the landspeeder from the air.

 

Battus stood toe-to-toe with his nemesis. He calmly chanted a canticle of hate as he parried and deflected Acciacato's attacks. The Warlord's blade pierced through his armour and into his lung, but still Battus' voice did not waver. With lightning-quick reflexes, the Codicer struck true with all the strength he could muster. As his force sword bit deeply into the Warlord's chest, Battus' chant reached a crescendo and he unleashed his pent-up psychic powers. The Warlord's dying curse petered out as Battus' force sword opened up a momentary warp-rift and the traitor's soul was ripped into the ether. Acciacato's body tumbled off his bike, an empty husk.

 

With grim satisfaction, Battus hefted his blade and turned to deal with the remaining chaos marines - but paused. He felt a warm kindling in his mind, a wisp of soulfire that should have been extinguished when Acciacato died. The ember grew to a piercing, painful flame, and Battus realized that warlord's final curse had the corrupting power of chaos behind it. The flame became an inferno, fuelled by the deep psychic well in the Librarian's soul, and nothing the Codicier could do could quench it. Eben Battus died in agony, yet he uttered not a sound as he fell to the earth.

 

The traitor marines and the loyal Astartes fought each other to a bloody end over the bodies of their fallen leaders but as the battle wound down, the daemons crowed triumphantly and it was clear the Adeptus Astartes had lost the battle. Yet despite this loss, it was clear that the death of Warlord Acciacato had turned the tide all across Janiver.

 

Deprived of Acciacato's indomitable leadership, the rebel armies fell to infighting. Adeptus servitors aboard the Implacable Will recorded that the Obliterators soon vanished as mysteriously as they had arrived. The traitor marine remnants, having suffered debilitating losses from the Guardians' earlier victories, fled for other warzones rather than remain locked in a war of attrition they were destined to lose. Tales of the Guardians' valiant stand against the traitors served as an inspiration to loyal Janiverii and drove them to selfless acts of valour and heroism in the Emperor's name. The rebel cultists were destroyed piecemeal by the Janiverii Planetary Defence Forces, and Lorentze was restored to Imperial control. The handful of surviving Guardians returned to the Implacable Will and departed for Mortikah VII to report back to the Chapter and undertake their penance for their brothers' deaths.

 

* * * *

 

By the dim green light of a flickering viewscreen, in a cold chamber of the Chapter monastery on Mortikah VII, Archivist-Chaplain Almanon intoned the sacred commands that would command the machine spirits to replay the last words of Eben Battus, psychically transmitted to the Implacable Will. Within moments, a crackling audio cut through the room. The stern and noble voice of Eben Battus was unmistakable, even through the bursts of static in the recording.

 

"I am Eben Battus, Unforgiven, Codicier of the Guardians of the Covenant, Commander of Task Force Battus deployed to Janiver XIV. We have trapped the Warlord Acciacato, chief commander of the traitor armies on this planet, and shall engage him in combat. The traitor is supported by a previously undetected daemon force, comprising three Obliterators and one Heldrake. The presence of Obliterators is disturbing as it indicates unidentified potential archaeotech on this planet. This question must be investigated by my Chapter brethren; for now, my Task Force will carry out our mission to assassinate the traitor and end the rebel insurrection on this world.

 

"Thought for the Day: What is the terror of death? That we die our work incomplete. What is the joy of life? That we die knowing our task is done."

 

The recording ended. It was Almanon's duty to add a postscript to the report, since no officers above the rank of Squad Leader had survived. With a wave of his hand, Almanon summoned a hovering scribe servitor and began to speak.

 

"Archivist-Chaplain Almanon, Unforgiven, Master of Sanctity for the Guardians of the Covenant; post-script to the Janiver XIV campaign. Codicier Eben Battus and his Task Force achieved their mission to eliminate the warlord Acciacato and his retinue, but did not survive the battle. Because of their sacrifices, the Janiver campaign can be considered a success. The rebellion is halted: Imperial rule over Janiver XIV is at 68% and climbing planet-wide, and the new Governor has renewed the system's allegiance to the Emperor. The martyrdom of twenty-three brothers of the Third Company has saved billions of Imperial citizens from heresy and war. The honour of the Chapter and the Unforgiven has been satisfied.

 

"Moreover, Codicier Battus discovered vital evidence for the potential existence of heretofore unknown, and therefore dangerous, knowledge or archaeotech on Janiver XIV. Chapter surveillance reported that the Obliterators disappeared shortly after the battle; it is suspected that they found either the knowledge they sought or further clues to its location. The Chapter shall organize a forensic search team immediately to unearth and catalog any remaining information.

 

"The names of the lost brethren of Task Force Battus shall be inscribed into the Tome of Heroes.

 

"Thought for the Day: The warrior who acts out of honour cannot fail. His duty is honour itself. Even his death - if it is honourable - is a reward and can be no failure, for it has come through duty. Seek honour as you act, therefore and you shall know no fear."

 

Almanon ended the transcription. It vexed him deeply that despite the Guardians' meticulous preparations, the Astartes had been ignorant of the presence of daemons and archaeotech on Janiver XIV. The Guardians of the Covenant hated being surprised. Almanon muttered one last prayer for his brethren's souls, then left to speak with the Convenio Arcanum. He had a search team to plan and arm.

 

(Edited for typos and formatting.)

[Grand Master Belial]

Awesome work and extra kudos for the edits. Even I am guilty of running up the first draft without checking it.

[Phoebus]

For too long, heretic scribes intent on besmirching the legend of the First Legion and the Lion have propagated false tales of our Primarch's early exploits.  No more.

 

I, Phoebus, bearer of the broken blade of Nilaihah, Paladin of Aldurukh, philosopher and bard; do, in the name of the Lion, make this Oath of Moment: to scour the archives of the Unforgiven down to the darkest recesses of the deepest catacombs of the Rock itself, and bring before our brethren a true tale of the early days of our Primarch.

[The Shadow Guard]

Ohhh..... sounds very exciting Phoebus... the early days of the Primarch!

 

Nice work chaps .... I must confess that due to the demon called "'Rhea L'fe" I have only been able to read snippets of some of the submissions...and they are great.... Juts need more time..... :)

 

SG

[Grand Master Belial]

Another worthy brother has stepped up to take on the mantle of warrior scribe.

 

We are now 15 strong and two completions already!

 

I better hurry up and finish the good parts of my own story.

[Candleshoes]

I, Candleshoes, Scribe of the Unforgiven, in the name of the Primarch Lion El'Jonson, make this oath of moment: to recount a story of founding, to extoll the virtue of a fledgling Chapter of the sons of the Lion. Few have been the decendents of the First in recent Foundings, but as a black storm nears Cadia, the High Lords of Terra, on behalf of the Emperor of Mankind, has seen fit to entrust a newly raised Chapter with the geneseed of the Lord of Swords.

[Grand Master Belial]

We now have three weeks left in this competition and there is still time left to join and write piece worthy of the Unforgven. Welcome aboard Candleshoes!

Now I need to get past my writer's block and finish my own story. Oddly enough, I have been getting ideas for other stories but not this one.

[Cod]

Well done to all those who already completed their writings!

I've been trying to work on this, hadn't forgotten about it, but am having to deal with a few too many things getting in the way!

Had planned to write three sections, a prologue, main story (including DA scouts) and epilogue. 

Time permitting will try to complete the other sections, but for now here is a cut down version of the first section, completed prologue. 

 

**********

 

An angry red glow surrounded the sleek dark hulled starships of the first legion and encircled their home world. With the rushing advance of their fleet, that same angry red was now bleeding into a pale eerie irradiated yellow. Hell had been unleashed.

 

Void shields flared and raw blue power crackled heavy thick around them, deflecting incoming fire marginally before their own deadly armaments struck back in anger. The sequence repeated, the gaps of time in between shortening, building to a raging white crescendo. A cascade of vicious colour ignited the space between swift fleet and planet.

 

Luthers had been the last vidcast. His mocking insults, lies and then subsequent termination of transmission had infuriated the Lion beyond reason. Now bombardments replaced words between brothers. Two sides of one force were systematically tearing each other apart.

 

Every impact let loose upon Caliban was like a cruel mocking dagger twisted through the twin hearts of every dark angel legionnaire. Just as every equal impact upon the Lions flagship set the mighty primarch to fever pitch. Those aboard the Invincible Reason experienced an unknown fear in witnessing what they believed to be their honoured leaders last vestige of self control.

 

The Lion was wild, wracked with conflict and the hate he endured was now free and pure unrestrained spite. His gauntleted fist tore through another nav console, his wrath unquenchable. The heel of his boot cratered a hole through the deck to reveal the level below. A darkened blur of motion, the very air around him seemed to swirl and shriek.

 

The face that had comforted his sons with such regalness now contorted and bestial showed barely a hint of nobility. A temple throbbed and looked ripe to burst under tight drawn skin. Neck veins pulsed and flickered like some strange threshing half buried serpent. He turned from the approaching expanse of his now battered home world and eyed us with preternatural speed. 

 

Snarling lips could not conceal gritted teeth. When he spoke, his voice was low and guttural. The words hardly fitted between hurried impatient breaths. Terrible words. Chilling.

 

'This ship is too slow. Ready the teleporter, I make planetfall... 

There are no traitors allowed in the new Imperium. Not even among the First Legion.'

[Greenz]

Fantastic Cod!!! Really hoping you find the time for the rest

[Brother Syddraf]

I, Brother Syddraf, long absence from these halls, Scribe of the Unforgiven, in the name of the Primarch Lion El'Jonson, make this oath of moment:

 

To reveal the True Mission of the Dark Angels, as told by Cypher....

 

As all is not what it seems....

 

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

 

" Do you know what the Emperor's dream is ? ", " too few know it now as it was spoken by him, and far too many know the lie told in its stead " a sigh of gas escaped the mighty dreadnoughts frame. " Allow me to enlighten you "....

[Grand Master Belial]

Another new battle scribe! Great work Cod on your prologue. I can't wait to read more of it. Now to get back to my own writing. I wanted to be done by now.

[tikhunt]

I, Brother Tikhunt, recent recruit to the halls of The Rock, Scribe of the Unforgiven, in the name of the Primarch Lion El'Jonson, make this oath of moment:

To share the experience of an Astartes recently inducted into a battle company on his first assignment with them to show the comradeship and brotherly bond among the Lion's Sons which I don't think is shown enough

++++++++

The air was heavy, thick and suffocating in the narrow chambers. Daruzel and his Astartes brothers marched silently, listening out for any sign of ambush or traps, the grim helmets dulling the sound of their heavy, armour clad footsteps that echoed through the tunnels.
The silence of the squad was broken when static spat out of their voxes followed by grumbling speech "Master Tigrane we are approaching the bottom level of the tunnel complex, ETA for rendezvous with 4th squad is 3 minutes". The rough voice of his Sergeant rang in Daruzel's ear again followed by the heavy static.
"Copy, watch for any signs of ambush as you reach the rendezvous point, 4th has already had to fight off two attacks and despite our enemies lack of capable equipment they carry enough zeal to be dangerous in larger numbers". The reply came through very precise despite the poor quality of the vox signal this deep underground, Daruzel caught himself focusing on the sound of his new commanders voice, the contrast between the Company Master's  voice and his Sergeant Sidahis was off putting. After several minutes of the group marching single file through the tunnel like a group of rats they came to a large opening from which poured a bathing blue light cutting through the pitch blackness of the tunnels they had traversed, on the other side came the recognizable heavy footsteps of an Astartes in full battle plate as well as a mighty booming voice as issues were ordered.

The rendezvous point was at the very bottom of the cave system and it was massive, several times larger than the tiny tunnels leading to it.. In the middle of the stalactite filled chamber was a large power generator which powered the defenses of the Wrathian palace's defence's above, including the vital anti aircraft turrets which were keeping the Cadian 17ths air support at bay. As Daruzel approached the behemoth machine he took note of his fellow brothers from 4th squad already at work attaching melta charges around the chamber in critical locations and on the crude, plasma powered machine itself. Daruzel and his squad set to work placing charges ensuring maximum damage to the complex and shutting down any hope of the palace managing to hold out against the Dark Angels assault.

The young Astartes warrior stole a quick look at his Company Master with pride and ambition, Master Tigrane was a magnificent sight to behold in his dark green armour, his helmet was a testament to the chapter with its deathly visage crowned with masterly crafted golden wings, his heavy robed form, draped in the chapters liverie, marking him out as having done some great deed and become the epitome of what it meant to be a Son of the Lion. When he spoke his voice cut through the methodical noise of Astartes at work.

"Glad to see that your men have taken no casualties Sergeant." he said with a hint of sorrow in his voice. "Unfortunately Brother Sanul was cut down by a supercharged plasma mine." He continued motioning to the bone white form of the accompanying Apothecary leaning over the slouched, half mangled form of Sanul extracting his geneseed for later use.

Sergeant Sidahis matched the same mournful tone "It is a shame indeed Master, although I am pleased to announce that the 3rd have ensured the eastern tunnels have been cleared of any resistance to our escape and that every one of these foul xenos is going to die." He looked over at the dead body of a Wrathian as he spoke, inspecting it's revolting alien form with an anger. "Every single one" he repeated.

 

After around five minutes of placing melta bombs, they had finally spent their supply and both squads melded together as they one again entered the tunnels satisfied that their duty here was finished. Daruzel was at the rear of the battle group with only Captain Balthazar behind him, the rest of the Astartes walking in unison barely making a jog yet still much faster than most humans and indeed these Xenos could manage.

"Er Master Tigrane sit, may I be permitted to ask something?" he said with a slight hesitation in his voice.

"Speak brother, though try not to be so hesitant in sharing you thoughts among your battle-brothers." Tigrane responded, his voice still low almost being drowned out by the heavy march of the Astartes.

"There is talk that we will be accompanied by the 1st company on the assault on the palace" Daruzel said with great excitement "What are they like in battle?"

There was a pause for a few seconds as Tigrane considered the young Astarte's question.

"They are" he started pausing to step over the dead form of an alien defender and taking the final steps out of the caves into the bright sunlight of Wrathal Primis. "They are a might and effective force, the epitome of what the Dark Angels strive to be in every battle. They are a force which cannot be stopped by any obstacle, they are a foe that cannot be protected from by any armour, they are a symbol that cannot be destroyed by any weapon, they are the angels of death and they have arrived." Tigrane announced as the melta charges finally went off to the sound of a deafening explosion.

 

The explosion had done more damage than had been originally intended, around a third of the sinister palace toppled into the cavern below as unstable tunnels completely caved in on themselves. The two Squads of 7th company accompanied by Tigrane set off at a brisk jog towards the breach that had already been made in the palace walls, their bolters cutting down any defenders who came pouring out in defense of whatever vile leader they were protecting, their dying forms dropping and splattering onto the mud, grass and rubble which they scrambled over. Daruzel hit a Wrathian square in the chest with his bolter, it's neck snapping and chitin body crushed into a mess of ichor and other alien fluids. Another xenos took a swing at him with one of its six, bladed arms harmlessly bouncing off of the dark green neck guard on the Mark Eight power armour, Daruzel countered with a sharp jab to its beaked head sending the creature back onto a fallen piece of rubble. The rest of the two squads were making their way into the breach with similar ease with their Master cutting through three or four at a time with one mighty stroke of his intricate power sword, his robes covered in blue-black ichor. The Company Master let out a roar as he picked up one of the Wrathians by it's vile neck, crushing it and throwing the things limp body into its retreating comrades. Daruzel looked around at the ichor stained hall he was in, it was as sinister looking on the inside as it was outside everything from the walls to the various items scattered within had a sharp, bleak look to it. Out of the corner of his eye Daruzel spotted something move past in one of the rooms leading off from they great hall they were now in, he couldn't be sure but it had looked like that of an Astartes or rather it seemed to him to be the hooded form of a Dark Angel Master though the figure disappeared as quickly as he had seen it. 

"Okay Brothers we will clear the bottom most level of the palace, Grand Master Belial and the rest of 1st Company are clearing the upper levels and claiming the head of this Xenos warlord themselves."  The sound of his Captain snapped his mind back into the battle at hand, he was about to mention the figure when into the room poured more Wrathians, these ones wearing heavier armour on top of their chitin and carrying strange alien guns. The green clad Astartes raised their weapons and charged defiantly towards this new foe.

++++++++

Ok so I was going to make the story have  more action in it but eh I like how this turned out, it's maybe less thrilling than a lot of the other amazing pieces of work in this thread but I really wanted to portray the Dark Angels as a close knit bunch and I hope I managed to get across a nice vibe.

Brother Tikhunt

[Grand Master Belial]

With only a Week and a Half left to go I am able to complete my own story.

An-Sorel lifted his head from beneath his cameloline cloak. His ancient eyes picked out the details of two crude armored transports of the mon-keigh’s legendary Space Marines. He allowed a small smile to creep across his face as he continued to watch the two streaking craft. As they approached overhead, ten smaller dots appeared out of the sides of each craft and began to fall to the surface. Each dot released little puffs of fire from the back and two of them wore crude white robes. As was expected, the Dark Angels have arrived on Truu.

+ + +

Veteran Sergeant Sodi adjusted his decent as he searched for an adequate landing site. He could see their target building not far from their position. However, the presence of a battery of Hydras made a direct assault inadvisable. Below the ground was teeming with the foul mutants of Chaos. Soon they will feel the Lion’s wrath. He directed his squad over towards the roof of a large building while Brother Veteran Sergeant Jotham directed his men to take the adjoining plaza.

Squad Jotham quickly rained bolts on the mutants below as they landed in the plaza. Sodi waited too late to flare his jump-pack and crashed through the roof to the floor below. Saved by his armor, he looked to find himself in a large room filled with all manners of filth. They stood in stunned silence as Sodi stood up and cut down the nearest one with his power sword.

The rest of Squad Sodi dropped down the hole left by their Sergeant and began to join in the fight with their chainswords and bolt-pistols. Plaque-ridden mutants burst apart in showers of pus and gore as the marines fired their bolt-pistols at close ranges. A mutant with tentacles for limbs managed to entangle a marine before being cut-down by a brother marine.

Sodi advanced to cut a bloody swath through the room destroying every mutant unfortunate enough to get within range of his blade. His robes became soaked with blood so that it stuck to his armor. He approached a wide-open space containing a pair of grand staircases to the lowest level and a set of large doors. In a burst of speed, he crashed through the ornate banister and used his jump-pack to land lightly on the floor.

Among the multitudes of unarmed mutants were several traitor guardsmen, humans who turned their backs on the Emperor and their fellow man to make a pact with the Ruinous Powers. Sodi’s face quickly soured at the site of such debased humans. His first shots blew apart their arms along with their weapons. Charging forward he dropped low and with his sword sliced through the legs of two of the traitors leaving them without any limbs. Powering down the blade, he plunged it deep into the belly of both traitors. Their screams ignored as Sodi wiped his blade on a fragment of their clothing before leaving them to die a slow painful death.

Outside, Squad Jotham were lobbing grenades into the openings of all the nearby buildings and began to establish a defensive perimeter in the small plaza. The stones beneath were stained red with the blood of many mutants and traitors. The stench of promethium filled the air as a flamer marine threw gouts of liquid flame into the adjacent buildings setting them alight as the debris of the building’s previous owner began to burn.

Sodi felt the vibrations in his boots of vehicles moving on the roadway. A quick glance to Jotham confirmed he had noticed the same. The element of surprise has been spent; the enemy is mounting a response to their presence.

Both squads ran down the street one squad on each side. Occasionally, there would be a quick blast of the jet pack to allow a space marine to vault a large pile of debris and the erratic staccatos of single bolt shots dispatching anything that crossed their path. Speed was the assault squads’ hope of achieving their mission.

Sodi took command of the squad strictly for the purpose of this mission, as did Jotham. The Sergeants of the 8th knew better than to question Veteran Dark Angels. Those inducted into the Deathwing commanded honor and respect from their fellow brothers. The squads took the change in stride and considered it a high honor to be selected for this mission. For many of them, it will be the chance to be posted to one of the reserve tactical companies or even to a battle company as a dedicated assault marine. The mission is going according to plan and the comms have been quick and efficient with no betrayal of extra information or banter - ideal for a Dark Angel.

Coming around a corner, the squad caught sight of a pair of battle tanks rumbling up the road. With the buildings no longer sheltering their presence the squads split into their combat squads with the Veteran Sergeants staying on the ground while the other half of the squads used their jump packs to take to the rooftops. The Veterans have stood down battle tanks before and though they where not wearing the thick slabs of ceramite that make up a suit of Terminator armor. The resilience that makes the 1st Company a feared force in the galaxy left its imprint on the two Veteran Sergeants.

Their strength and resolve was infectious to the rest of their combat squad. They would have hit their jump packs and taken the tanks from above and out of reach of their main cannon. The tanks were Leman Russ Conqueror-pattern battle tanks with shorter barrels. While they may not have the same punch as their longer barreled brethren, it was more than enough to destroy power armor. While running, the marines holstered their pistols and fluidly reached for the melta bombs attached to their armor.

'Contact, elements behind the armor and they are organized.'

It meant nothing to the squads, they had already planned accordingly and the roar of chainswords and the hum of power swords reflected that training.

Boom

The first tank had fired and its shell sped its way toward the green armored marines. However, the keen eyesight of an Astartes can see the shell and the assault squad scattered just enough to avoid a direct hit. One marine hit his pack and leapt with the explosion, the additional lift sent him ahead of the squads as the second tank fired. Jotham's squad attempted the same feat but one marine caught the blast and his arm carrying the melta bomb was ripped off. Armor scorched and pitted, the marine staggered a couple steps and then continued to run. Without a word from the sergeants, the marine switched places with another from the rooftops.

The two combat squads leapt, vaulted and jumped from rooftop to rooftop and tried to get ahead of the squads on the street. The tanks were ignoring them and the troops following behind could not get many clean shots. They were the flanking forces to establish a choke point behind the column of troops responding to their presence.

Boom

Sodi had to give the crew of that tank a small measure of respect. Only a well-drilled crew could reload that quickly. The tank's front sponson opened up with a chatter of heavy bolter rounds. The second tank had side sponsons, which took up the call a second later. The three lines of shells chased marines as they darted and leapt on their headlong rush.

Without a word, the furthest assault marine prepped his bomb and in a fluid motion placed the charge at the base of a tank turret and brought his chainsword to the fore. The teeth had barely begun to spin before the marine was amongst the troops sheltering behind the armored vehicle. Sodi reached the ill-fated tank and with a leap he was racing along the top of the tank and dropped his bomb over the engine compartment and then he too was slaughtering the more disciplined troops.

Jotham and his combat squad placed their melta bombs on the second tank before they too were engaged in close combat. The tanks gunned their engines in an attempt to turn around but the bombs went off in quick succession and the vehicles were being reduced to molten slag until the ammo cooked off and the series of explosions ripped the vehicles apart. Molten metal was thrown everywhere and while the Dark Angels armor was not immune, they took their injuries without a word of complaint. The lesser-armored troops fared poorly and like a scythe through wheat, ranks of the traitors were mown down by the pressure wave, ripped apart by shrapnel or hideously burned by the molten metal. The few survivors at the rear of the formation turned and ran. The thrill of combat had the marines preparing to follow when the rest of the assault team landed on the bridge and cut off any chance of escape. The traitors knew it and the fight left them, but the Dark Angels were not there to capture prisoners. Sodi dispatched them with a respect due to warriors, quickly and cleanly — a task best suited for a power sword.

"Squad, what is your status?" The two Veteran Sergeants took a tally of the effectiveness of their squads. Three brothers were not fit to continue the mission due to their injuries or damage to their jump packs but they would live to continue to serve their chapter. While the three brothers awaited retrieval, the two squads moved on.

The base sat at the base of a cliff protecting the entrance to an underground cavern and the myriad of turrets surrounding the place were turned skyward. Only one was able to get a line of sight on the Dark Angels and it began traversing their direction. As one, the squads broke back into a run for a headlong charge. Within his own helmet, Sodi chanted litanies as he closed on his objective. As they approached the curtain wall, the assault squads hit their packs and leapt to the top. Sodi and Jotham continued their jump into the courtyard, while the rest of the squads dispersed to neutralize the Hydra emplacements and any other threat they saw. The two sergeants knew their personal objective was not on the wall but in the bunker set into the cliff.

A ball of light zoomed between the two marines, but it did not faze them. Their grim determination set, they made for the source of that plasma shot. “Objective located. Initiate Broken Sword protocol. Establish a perimeter and await our brothers.” The two sergeants continued on while the assault squads took up position on the walls and behind the sergeants out of range of the bunker.

“Brother Sergeants, additional contacts are leaving the bunker.”

“Acknowledged”

Troops erupted from the bunker and took up firing positions in front of the marines. The rags that were once uniforms hung off them like some reptile sloughing off its skin. The leader of the group shouted the command to open fire. Small lances of light shot out in all directions but the Dark Angels would not be swayed. The two Sergeants jumped sidewise to throw off the aim of the traitors before Jotham hit his jump pack while Sodi ran back and forth. Jotham arrived first and set into the traitors with fist and pistol. Sodi still took some fire but then he too was amongst the traitors with sword and pistol.

Sodi flowed through the traitors like water through rocks. His power sword cleaving a murderous line through the ranks of debased men. Jotham followed behind backhanding and punching anything in reach and shooting everything else. The two sergeants pressed on towards the bunker. The traitors were quickly focusing on the threat in their midst but forgot about those outside the conflict. It was their last mistake, with the sounds of roaring chainswords; the two assault squads quickly swarmed in and finished off the stragglers left behind by the sergeants. As part of the Broken Sword protocol, only enemy units behind the lead elements could be engaged and only when those lead elements were in view.

Now the two sergeants entered the cavernous bunker recently evacuated by the troops. Signs of habitation and the hastiness of their response were evident everywhere as activities of the traitors were left behind. Cooking pots were boiling over with forgotten food and various games were scattered around where groups had gathered to entertain themselves. None of it mattered to the Dark Angels; as an Astartes, combat was their purpose and they diligently worked to hone their skills to a height not seen by even their brother Astartes.

Their target was waiting for them, dressed in mockery of the Sergeants own battle plate and robes. The pistols in his hands and the large sword on his back marked out the appearance of Cypher, the most hated Fallen Dark Angel. The Sergeants separated and moved to flank the rogue. The Fallen snapped up his pistols and snapped off shots toward both of them but eventually switched focus to Jotham. The massive power fist crackled with pent up energy just as the marine wielding it was filled with pent up rage.

Sodi took full advantage of the Fallen Angel’s decision. He made it easily to cover before moving around and charging Cypher. Cypher sensed the oncoming marine and dropped a pistol and withdrew the sword on his back. The large power sword sparked to life once cleared of the scabbard. Sodi deflected the cross cut before coming in with his own strike. Cypher dodged at the last second to allow the blade to pass by before coming overhead with a two-handed blow. Sodi spun on his outside foot before sweeping Cypher off his feet. Jotham arrived and stood above the prone form of the Fallen Angel with his fist poised to deliver a crushing punch. Sodi stamped on the sword hand to prevent any motion before lifting back the hood of the Fallen Angel.

The face staring back was not that of Cypher but another man with the stylized I of the Inquisition tattooed on his brow. Jotham let the power fist down to his side and powered it down. Sodi disarmed the Inquisitor but kept him under the humming sword. Jotham disengaged the power pack from the armor and tossed it aside. Without the power source, the armor went limp and the weight settled on the Inquisitor. Jotham leaned in to the inquisitor, “What was the purpose of this deception?”

+ + +
 
Claudius entered the armored room of the bunker. Everywhere there were scraps of paper, parchment, even etchings in leather of questionable source. Whatever Inquisitor Santos was investigating, he was only able to find fragments and even some of those had Xenos origins. Inquisitor Santos had his back turned as he was looking over something in his hands.
 
Claudius’s enhanced senses seemed on edge like something was out of place. He looked around but saw nothing unusual. Still his uneasiness was not going away. “Inquisitor?”
 
“Ah, Claudius! So good that you have come to join me! I trust your journey from the Watch was uneventful.”
 
“The Watch Commander has enough to keep the brothers of the Deathwatch busy for some time. But you did not have the Inquisition change my orders for me to discuss the dealings of a few squads of Astartes.”
 
“Quite right. I have recently come into possession of some rather disturbing information but it has not yet been verified.”
 
“What does this have to do with me?” Claudius responded.
 
“You are going to verify it. Since you have undergone the transformation to become an Astartes of the Inquisition, I need you to pose as a renegade of the Dark Angels Chapter. From what I have gathered, the chapter is very interested in pursuing a renegade known only as Cypher. It seems to be a carrot the Inquisition can use to lead the Dark Angels to pursue our own means.”
 
“So I am to pose as this Cypher and see if the Dark Angels take the bait.”
 
“More than that, there are stirrings within the Reach. The Dark Angels are the closest chapter at full strength but have not answered any requests for aid. We need them to commit to the Reach and quash this Traitorous uprising.”
 
“I have heard of the Reach. Isn’t there an Eldar presence as well? Those pointy-eared mockeries of humanity don’t suffer the machinations of the Ruinous Powers lightly.” As Claudius spoke, his senses alerted him to a rising threat level and he was sure the wall shivered slightly.
 
“They are of no consequence. For now, assume the identity of this Cypher character and go out to the Reach. I will send emissaries to the garrisons on each of the planets letting them know a Dark Angel is there to help oversee the defenses in the Reach.”
 
“As you command, Inquisitor.” Claudius turned to leaved but not before catching movement out of the corner of his eye. It would appear the Ordo Xenos was right to suspect alien influence of an Inquisitor. He will need to advise his superiors that Santos has been compromised, but for now he needed to get familiar with this Cypher the Dark Angels seemed so interested in.
 
After the younger Inquisitor left, the Eldar ranger parted his cameloline cloak. His alien physiology quivering with barely controlled rage. Both hands were firmly gripping weapons. “And you say we are arrogant. If we did not need that child’s presence in the upcoming battle, I would have eviscerated him before he could blink.”
 
 
“He knew you were here. This will complicate things, but the Dark Angels will take care of Claudius’s outburst.”
 
+ + +

The white Thunderhawk of the Deathwing touched down outside the bunker. The four squads of Deathwing Terminators that had beamed down to the surface secured the prisoner and held the perimeter. The two squads of Assault Marines waited off to the side, out of view of the prisoner. Several had been selected to be elevated to the Battle Companies as dedicated Assault Marines and a few others will transfer to the Tactical Reserve Companies to continue their development and training. The remaining members will be consolidated into a single squad, but marked for transfer at the next opportunity. Their mission was accomplished and the chapter has another mark of honor to add to the 8^th Company. The two Veteran Sergeants stood apart from their one-time charges; they joined their brethren in the heavy plate of Terminator Armor. The robes of the Veteran Sergeants matched the plate of the Deathwing, and to some of the Terminators, they were accorded more respect.

Interrogator Chaplain Abihud escorted Inquisitor Claudius on board the Thunderhawk. The Interrogator and the Librarians will confirm his confession given to Sodi and Jotham. Until that time, the Dark Angels will have a larger problem to contend with – Claudius’s superior, Inquisitor Santos, knows of the shame of the Unforgiven and must be silenced. For now, the Dark Angels are committed to the Reach. To fight for the Imperium against the forces of Chaos and the Eldar filth present within and to find and eradicate all in Santos’s employ that know the secret and remove the Inquisitor from power.

+ + +

An-Sorel looked on as the Thunderhawk took flight. The ranger waited to see the mon-keigh in their varied green, black and white armor set up defensive positions around the base; a clear indicator that they were planning to stay on Truu. With a flick of a switch, a tiny beacon sent out a signal to the craftworld floating between systems in the Reach. “It is done. The craftworld will survive the Chaos onslaught.”

[Grand Master Belial]

Looking back through the thread. This is where we stand. Let's see if we can't see some more activity.

 

http://fortressofunforgiven.homestead.com/LoA_2014_Announcement_Banner.jpg

OATHS OF MOMENT
​

• Arctic Paladin
• Brother Syddraf
• Candleshoes
• Cappy, the 11th Company Dark Master - Story
• Cod - Prologue
• Dafoo
• Disciple of Caliban Sgt
• djgoldsmith
• Epimetheus13 - Story
• Fulminata - Story
• Grand Master Belial - CoN - Story
• Grotsmasha
• Isiah
• Khan the Bloody
• Komrk
• Phoebus
• Skilgannan
• Tikhunt - Story

[Disciple of Caliban Sgt]

Ok guys need some help. Going a bit nuts. I've been trying to get a story I typed up in word to past in here and it wont post for the life of me. Anyone have some fixes ideas?

 

Stories been done for weeks.

Thanks,
DoC

[Grand Master Belial]

Is there a lot of formatting in it? I tend to remove the fancy formatting if I can help it to make it easier to cut and paste. I switched to stars instead of lines for section breaks. It looks odd here but better in Word. Also there is a max limit into how much you can paste into a single post. Try breaking it up into two sections and see if it will work then. Bear in mind the flood control so wait 30 seconds before posting part 2.

[Cpt_Reaper]

Mine is done. It's probably not the greatest in terms of quality (I'm rather rusty writing short stories).

[Isiah]

Mine's started. But heavy workload and other activities are slowing me up somewhat :(

 

Cheers

I

[Grand Master Belial]

There is less than a week to go and it looks like we have some people are working diligently to make an effort to have something done. 

[Cpt_Reaper]

Legends of the Angels

 

Prime

 

A gentle breeze kicked up clouds of bronze sand, the metallic fragments within shining in the harsh sunlight. Such an occurrence might be considered beautiful on a beach or in a garden but the whole planet was nought but the same.

Once the planet was known as Morris' Pride, covered in rolling plains of golden grass and dotted with vast inland seas of brilliant emerald. Vast fortunes were amassed through the export of amphibious beasts called Liquats, famed for their meat and the medicinal uses of their bones.

Now it was all dead, killed by the greed of the planetary Governor. Seeking to increase his fortune the Governor began to mine for a calcium-like mineral that, when added to Liquat food supplies would increase their population exponentially.

It was only a matter of time before the wild beasts of the planet managed to consume an escaped Liquat, and thus inevitable that the effect spread. Thousands of species multiplied at rates not normally possible, consuming all available greenery or destroying all but the most built up settlements. Eventually the remaining people of the planet began to call it Morris' Folly, calling for the family of the Governor to be removed lest their greed damn their once fair world.

It was already too late.

 

A great swarm of void-beasts slid quietly through the vast emptiness of space, driven on by an unending hunger and directed by a most sinister intelligence. The designation for this encroaching doom was Kraken, one of the world consuming Tyranid hive fleets.

As the hive fleet mover further into the galaxy in it's quest for sustenance, a tendril began to split away. With speed akin to a beast stretching an unused limb after a long hibernation the Tyranids began to move towards Morris' Folly.

 

---

 

The hold of the Thunderhawk Obsidian Wyvern was quiet, save for the sounds of atmospheric entry. Within the metal behemoth were three squads of the fabled Adeptus Astartes, their plate bearing the black and platinum of the Angels of Shadow. These warriors were of the Third Battle Company, veterans of dozens of campaigns each. Many were but a breath away from being inducted into the First or Second Companies; The Blade Brethren and the Drake Riders respectively.

Flanking the Obsidian Wyvern were smaller vessels, Storm Eagle gunships and Dark Talon and Nephilim Jetfighters.

'Brethren of the Third,' came a voice over the vox-net, breaking the silence. 'Make final preparations. ETA to target is ten minutes and counting.'

 

Dark Master Kronos Nightshade released the transmission rune on the panel, turning to face the others within the Storm Eagle gunship, The Unrelenting Reaper. He looked over his command squad, each hand picked to walk beside the young Dark Master on the battlefield.

Brother Markus, flexing the fingers of his power fist as he calibrated his smart-linked scope upon his storm bolter. Brother Uziel, the white gauntlet of the Apothecarion housing the Narthecium of his calling. Brother Isiah, bearer of the Company Standard. Brother Trask, his prized plasma gun placed across his lap. Finally honoured Brother Aloysius, the Company Champion and wielder of one of the Blades of Caliban.

A gauntleted hand rested upon the polished platinum of Kronos' left pauldron, resting upon the Chapter crest. He turned to lock eyes with the reflective lenses of Shadow Lord Valafar, one of the Chapter's Interrogator-Chaplains. He had been attached to the Company to oversee the members of Alpha Squad and pass judgement if they were worthy of progression in the Chapter.

'Yes Brother-Chaplain? What do you need?' Kronos inquired, an ever so slight venom in his words. He knew the Chaplain would pick up on it but he did not fear repercussions. They both knew why Valafar was present upon the Unrelenting Reaper and not the Obsidian Wyvern with the majority of the force and access to the craft's command network. He wasn't just judging Alpha Squad but Kronos as well. Some of the other Dark Masters had questioned his abilities as a commander and the Supreme Dark Master had sent Valafar to put those questions to rest.

'I won't hide behind petty pretences. We both know why I am here,' he stated bluntly. 'Speaking from an objective point of view there is no reason for my secondary task. I've seen you on the field of battle and chair of command, however others have not and thus have doubts formed by their own standards.'

Kronos tilted his head to the side, regarding the Chaplain. 'Why do you tell me this? Are you trying to unnerve me?' To this the Chaplain just laughed, a cold sound with no hint of merriment or joy.

'Were it that easy my task would be complete. No Brother, I am telling you this to strengthen your resolve. A judge I may be, but I am a Chaplain first and foremost.'

Valafar turned, his cloak swirling in an almost melodramatic fashion as he headed to meet with the leader of Alpha squad. Kronos let out a sigh and busied himself with his own pre-battle preparations. Not only did he have to ready his wargear but his mind for he had never lead his Company against Tyranids before, always in junction with or under the command of another. A fitting situation to test his opponents right or wrong.

 

The chosen landing zone was a Militarum outpost just five kilometres from the main gate of the hive city. The remnants of the Planetary Defence Force had been positioned at the outpost to hold back the Tyranids, assured that with the thin planet crust literally being bombarded into magma fields to funnel the swarm into the PDF gunline as well as the state-of-the-art air defence and counter-orbital batteries within the hive that would force the Tyranids to make planetfall to the north. Even as the Angels of Shadow began to disembark from their transports the Governor's voice was booming from every available vox-speaker in the outpost. The outpost itself was in a flurry of activity, PDF troopers running back and forth as they prepared for the defence, Malcador battle tanks being moved into position, officers barking orders.

'One could be forgiven for thinking this was but a regular exercise,' Valafar commented as he strolled down the Storm Eagle's ramp. 'I imagine the short chain of command is doing wonders for their organisation.'

Kronos took no notice of the Chaplain's remarks, busy with commanding his own troops. Surveying the area he was able to discern several faults in the line where arcs of fire from tanks didn't quite overlap. As if drawn to the assessment a PDF officer ran up to the Astartes and snapped off a quick salute.

'M'lord, Lieutenant Montgomery,' he barked in the harsh accent that characterised his people. 'We are fraking lucky that you are here. I've got three companies of men and, uh, I think a dozen Malcadors being put into position. We don't have any artillery to speak of or anything particularly suited for masses of bugs.'

Kronos regarded the officer, telling himself that this was the highest ranking man in the PDF still alive and killing him would be unwise. ' Lieutenant Montgomery, please move the Malcador away from junction seventeen. It's not needed where it is and would serve better at junction twenty-four. Set up your heavy weapons close to your tanks to hold back close assault organisms. I also need the central courtyard clear in the next five minutes.'

'Sir?' the Lieutenant asked but was cut off by the mere presence of Valafar.

'Dark Master Nightshade gave you an order boy. Get to it!' growled the Interrogator-Chaplain. With an audible whimper Lieutenant Montgomery ran off to enact his orders.

'There was no need for that Valafar. They are not front-line soldiers, they are reserve forces on a backwater. They probably never expected to fight an off-world foe.'

'They are soldiers of the Emperor and should conduct themselves as such,' Valafar shot back, slightly irritated. 'If I have to put the fear in them to straighten their spines I'll do it if it means they stand their ground a little longer.'

Lieutenant Montgomery had done as he was told, clearing the courtyard of vehicles and personnel in but a few minutes. The courtyard itself usually served as a parade ground but for the moment it was acting as a giant landing pad. The first Thunderhawk transporter dropped off a Land Raider Crusader to the awe of the PDF, the second delivered a Whirlwind and a Razorback. The third carried a huge container full of arms and ammo, anything that could be spared from the fleet armoury. With the container came one last Angel, the Venerable Dreadnought Durnehviir. The Imperial line was now ready to face their foe with bolt, blade, rifle and canon.

 

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

 

The battle began quite literally with a bang. At the first sign of the approaching Tyranids one of the tank crews fired off their cannon, the round blowing apart a dozen gaunts. As if spurred on by the initial strike the swarm increased it's speed, charging as fast as their many limbs could carry them. Several more shots rang out from along the line, nervous and frightened soldiers trying to slay their foe as early as possible. It was all Lieutenant Montgomery could do to get his men to hold their fire until the swarm was in an effective range.

The Imperial line did not have to wait long, the swarm moving quickly. Thousands of soulless eyes filled with an endless hunger stared at the fear filled PDF ranks, devouring information as their mouths would devour biomass. To a lesser man such thoughts would break his mind in but a moment, but Kronos and his brethren were created to be better than that. Designed by an unfathomable intelligence to be perfect weapons. Not unlike the Tyranids, a thought Kronos let linger for but a moment. Not unlike the swarm, but not entirely the same. Whereas a Hormagaunt was an expendable beast created for a single purpose of closing with the enemy and slaying it with talons and claws, an Astartes was a master of all facets of war. A Warrior could think, plan and direct lesser beasts, but the Dark Masters could write poetry, sing powerful songs and find humour in the darkest of times. That was the difference between Kronos and the beasts that died to gunfire. A Tyranid destroys all it touches, Astartes retain the capacity to create.

A cry rang out from the line, a trooper having spotted a pack of Warriors striding towards the defence line, a Prime at their head. Immediately orders were given to target the leader beasts, several tanks firing upon them with cannon and laser. One Warrior went down to a battle cannon round, vaporised in a fireball. Another fell as a lascannon shot impacted the side of it's face and turned it's skull to dust and burned flesh. A third vanished in a blinding light as a plasma cannon round hit home. Several of the PDF troopers cheered, some that had been hiding braved a peek at the carnage.

When a missile headed for the remaining seven a ripple went out across the horde, orders travelling through the Hive Mind. Before the missile got close enough several gaunts jumped up into the explosive. They were shredded in the blast but the Warriors remained unharmed.

'Don't waste the ammunition!' roared Kronos over the din of battle. 'Command Squad, mount up! We take the fight to those leader beasts!'

His Command Squad quickly entered the Land Raider, joined by Valafar. None of them took seats for the distance would be crossed in but a handful of minutes in the Land Raider. Kronos coordinated the firepower from the line to ensure the tank would travel relatively unobstructed. Still, from within the hold the roar of hurricane-bolters and assault cannons could be heard as they slew many dozens of Tyranids.

'Take one Warrior each. Slay it fast and move on to the next. The Prime is mine.'

'And why do you get the Prime to yourself? My blade hasn't tasted blood yet,' complained Aloysius. 'A Prime is a worthy foe and I should like to test myself against it.'

'Because Aloysius, you cut down that Ork Nob back on Serra. Remember which one? The beast with the sawblade sticking out if it's skull. The one I called as my target?'

Aloysius laughed, the booming sound of merriment that could make a cheerful Space Wolf sound like a Mortifactor. 'Ah yes, I know the one. I still have his skull in my quarters back on Invalice. I concede the point; the Prime may fall to your blade.'

The Champion's laughing was cut short as the hold of the Land Raider changed from the dim light to being bathed in a dull amber. Each Astartes readied his weapons; bolts were racked, blades were drawn and last moment prayers were said. They felt the tank grind to a halt moments before the light changed to green and the front assault ramp slammed open, followed by the series of explosions of the frag launchers.

'By the sword in my hand!' Kronos roared, his massive blade's power field blazing to life.

'For the Lion! For the Dragon! For the Emperor!' the squad replied.

 

Bursting from the Land Raider, Kronos and his men made for the Warriors with unmatched fury. Some of the leader beasts had been felled by the Land Raider's weapons or fire from the defence line. As such some of squad members provided covering fire and did what they could to the surrounding hordes.

Kronos and Valafar found themselves both matched up against the Prime after the Warrior Valafar was going for was sent flying in multiple directions by a missile.

The Prime itself was, without a doubt, deserving of it's designation. Taller than the average Warrior, moving with an almost serpentine grace, it's four boneswords crackling with bio-electricity. The thing that Kronos noticed above all else was the look in it's eyes. This beast was not just a vessel of the Hive Mind, and extension of it's will. It was a thinking creature, a leader proper, sizing up the Dark Master and the Shadow Lord. This would not be an easy fight.

Valafar made the first move, his crozius swinging in a huge arc of blue-white energy. The Prime blocked the wild attack with two of it's boneswords, barely flinching under the strike. Kronos took advantage of the Chaplain's distraction and thrust his sword at the Prime's torso. The Prime, however, knew the first attack was a distraction and twisted away while deflecting the blade with it's other two boneswords. Letting out a screeching roar the Prime lunged at Kronos with it's two left swords, catching the Dark Master's emerald blade as he tried to block the attack. Valafar attempted to move in to assist but the Prime's bladed tail forced him on the defensive. The Prime was not prepared for the sudden arrival of Aloysius, covered in the blood of the Warrior he had just slain. Blocking a wide swing with his combat shield, Aloysius brought his own sword up to pierce the chest of the Prime. Yellow-green blood sizzled on the Champion's blade as he pulled it free, the Prime letting out a pained howl.

Valafar took the moment of distraction to bring his crozius down on the Prime's tail, shattering the blade-like end in a burst of his weapon's powerfield. It would now pose a lot less of a threat, and also served to further pain the creature. The Prime lashed out with it's ruined tail, catching Valafar in the leg and flipping him over onto his back.

Aloysius fired of a burst of rounds from his bolt pistol, some blowing holes in the Prime's torso and one puncturing it's left shoulder. Kronos went in for a lunging strike again, but at the last moment twisted his blade around the bonesword that came to meet it, catching the Prime in the wrist. The bonesword went flying into the surrounding horde, ichor spraying from the stump.

A great ripple went out across the horde, another order pulsing through the Hive Mind. Nearby gaunts and the remaining Warriors turned to Aloysius and Valafar, keeping them busy. The Prime was now free to focus on the one that has removed one of it's weapons.

Dropping into a defensive stance Kronos gripped his blade tightly. The Prime looked the Astartes over for a moment, delving into the vast knowledge of it's kind. With a snarl the Prime attacked, it's remaining three blades swirling in a storm of energy and bone. Kronos circled his foe, his own blade dancing with supernatural speed. Every time the Prime stabbed, Kronos deflected the attack with the flat of his sword. When the Prime tried to cut him down, Kronos brought the edge of his own weapon across to counter with a shower of sparks. Despite the size of the blade the Astartes was able to manipulate it as one would move a sabre. The Prime concluded that it's current approach was lacking.

Renewing it's attacks, the Prime attacked with two weapons at a time, wither opposite boneswords or a sword and it's stump-ended arm. Yet still Kronos blocked every attack, his own blade spinning, twirling and slicing. Such a blade should not have been able to move that way, especially in the hands of a warrior in such large armour. The Prime screamed in frustration at once more it's attacks met only green metal and not black carapace.

Tiring of it's foe, the Prime charged forwards, it's blades held to block any counter attack. Kronos charged into the attacking Tyranid, blade held for a mighty thrust. Held for a thrust, but not intended to deliver one.

Flipping his sword blade down, Kronos span into the Prime as all of it's arms swung out wide in a mighty finishing blow. Deflecting the wounded arm with an open palm and smashing away the opposite two swords, Kronos ducked under the last blade to bring the hilt of his sword crashing up into the Prime's jaw with a satisfying crunch. The Tyranid's head whipped backwards under the blow, dazed and filled with the closest thing to anger than a Tyranid could feel. Grabbing the bloody wrist of the Prime's damaged limb, Kronos pulled the beast off balance and, with a kick to one of it's legs, the Prime fell. Scrambling to right itself the Prime lashed out in a wild fury.

Kronos slammed his heel down onto the Prime's chest, splintering chitin and shattering carapace. Standing back up with a ear-splitting roar the Prime made ready to attack once more but stopped, flinching as a glowing sword tip appeared through it's torso. Aloysius brought the blade out sideways in a shower of carapace and ichor as Valafar swung his crozius into the beast's leg like an axe, severing the limb below the knee. Falling to it's knees the Prime lashed out at it's new attackers as Kronos swung his blade at the neck of the Prime with a thunderous roar. In a single motion the head of the Prime was separated from it's massive head from it's shoulders. Ichor sprayed out from the wound as the Prime's heart kept beating, not having quite yet been informed of the body's imminent death.

As the body fell to the ground a new ripple surged through the horde, echoed each time one of the last Warriors died. The gaunts started to flee from the gunfire from the defence line, the larger beasts began attacking anything that moved and the unnatural symmetry of the attack broke down. The Angels of Shadow aircraft made several attack runs, slaying dozens of Tyranids in hails of bolt, laser and bomb. The tide had turned in favour of the Imperials, and would not turn back for a while.

 

In the end Morris' Folly was deemed lost as more and more Tyranids descended upon the world. The Angels evacuated what they could of the population, which was now barely a single percent of it's original magnitude. The Governor was found hiding within the refugees in civilian clothing, his many bags filled with what riches he could save. His cover had been blown when he had slapped a young girl for talking ill about his family, ordering a nearby soldier to execute her for treason. A gunshot rang out in the vessel's hold.

Lieutenant Montgomery stood over Morris' body, an autopistol smoking in his hand. Spitting on his Governor's corpse, Montgomery unloaded the rest of the clip. Not a single survivor mourned the dead man, and those of his family that had also survived stayed hidden lest they share the same fate.

The Angels of Shadow returned to their homeworld to prepare for their next mission, while the survivors of Morris' Folly were given the choice to settle on one of the planets in the Invalice system. For the moment fighting had ended for the Third Company, and they rested, trained and gathered in the meal hall of their fortress-monastery. For now they were home, but tomorrow was another day and another foe to slay for the work of an Astartes was never done until they drew breath no more.