Cappy's Legends of the Angels story

[Cpt_Reaper]

Hello brethren. This shall be where my Legends of the Angels submission will be posted.

 

So far I have narrowed the focus of the story to 2 contenders.

- Master of Absolution, Sabnack (Master of Chaplains)

- Dark Master of the 3rd, Kronos Nightshade (3rd Company Master)

 

I might just flip a coin.

[Tiberius Cato]

A chaplain might be pretty fun to write about, I haven't seen many stories with them as the protagonist.

[Cod]

Or include them both, giving one of them a small 'cameo' role.

[Cpt_Reaper]

I think I just thought of a storyline. Time to get to work.

 

++Edit++

 

The story shall be posted below this post. I'll update this post with the behind-the-scenes stuff.

 

24/11/14

 

Added a tiny bit more. The battle is about to begin if i can get through this lack of inspiration.

[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.

 

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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.