Imperial Fist story (don't have a proper title yet) (30k IF)

[Tyear]

                                                                          Prologue: Dark Sands

 

I can see the sand course through my fingers, black and ashen, the ground is covered in it. Another world another compliance, how many I've fought I have lost count. The glory of the Great Crusade is still there, we still fight for we are the Emperor's Chosen, we are his Praetorians and we do not falter.

 

I glance towards my left, the youngest of my triumvirate stands gazing across the field. A city burns in the distance and he holds a vox caster. The sounds of war echo across it, “General we are being cut off, the enemy are hitting us hard.. the line is wavering”, the sound is firm but tense. I can see the battle in my minds eye, the attackers are Imperial Army, men of the Hastian Fifth, an armored company.

 

They always employ similar tactics, a hard spear thrust into the enemy's heart. This moment the blow is aimed straight for the Palace of Truth, the last bastion of the nobility of this planet to stand. “Marshall should we not go to their aid?”, Radolph turns to me. His brow firmly set, if it was up to him he'd be out there already. I shake my head solemnly, “These men need to learn to fight without Astartes support, we cannot hold their hand. A time may come when no Legion forces stand besides them and they will falter for they do not know how to fight”, his mouth tightens, “So we let them die?”, his tone is fierce. “No.. not all of them, we let them bleed, let them feel the harm.. will the spear reach the Palace?”

 

My second joins us on the hill, “Bloody awful world isn't it?”, he points towards the rolling clouds, no doubt more rain, “Well.. what are we doing?”, he holds his helmet slung under his arm. His Cataphractii armor hums with potency, “I was asking Radolph if the spear was reaching the Palace”, Corwin shakes his head, “The enemy has cut through their lines.. the Hastian push has stalled”, Radolph turns to me. “No..”, I say solidly, his eyes flash, “You will lead the assault on the Palace, show these men how to throw a spear”

 

He attaches his helmet to his Mark IV plate before marching away, the vox alight with his voice as he orders men around. Securing his assault company, “You give him too much freedom”, Corwin stands beside me. “He will make a good Marshal in time”, Corwin shrugs, he's been my second too long to worry about other men. “Where are we going then?”, I attach my own helmet. The recycled air filling the tight space. Numerous identifiers link up and I hear the voice of the Imperial Army General, “We need urgent Legion support, please acknowledge, my men are being slaughtered”, I bite back a retort that would likely earn me censure from my Primarch. “This is Marshal Adalhard, we are sending support. As well as breaching forward towards the Palace”, I cut the vox link.

 

Two hundred Astartes clad in Cataphractii plate stand ready, an assortment of warriors from Terra and a host of other worlds. We march solemnly into the awaiting Land Raiders, they churn the dirty black sand to mud as they spear forward. Radolph's group detaches from ours, a trio of predator tanks leading the charge. The thumping sound of autocannon rounds chorus to our left. I have no doubt of Radolph's skill in achieving his objectives.

 

Soon enough rain begins to wash down, great deluges of it, splattering across the roofs of this alien world. These men however, are not alien, they are.. were human once, the great spread of humanity before the fall. But they have devolved, they have quickened their blood with that of eldar speed. Made their bodies more durable with genomes taken from the foul greenskin races. One of their tanks spots our advance and swings around to meet us. The grav tech employed here is surely of interest to the Mechanicum. But not to us.

 

Spears of fierce lascannon fire exit the muzzles of our Land Raiders, across the vox I hear a chant begin. It is Radolph.. he's singing, though perhaps chanting is more appropriate. His voice is joined by a chorus of our Brothers, their words loud through the din of battle. Extolling virtue and sacrifice, honor and death. He is still young, he will learn that not all battle is beauty. But I steel my mind, we near the cut off Hastian Fifth.

 

Battle has always had a special place in my heart, it has been fierce moments of tremendous pride. To see my Brothers claim a world in the Emperor's name, nothing gives me fiercer joy. It makes me kill swifter, stand firmer. Nothing can break us when we fight for Him. “For the Emperor!”, my voice bursts from my helmet, a snarling sound of war.

 

My first kill is a woman, she turns my way with a long spear, the tip holds a lance weapon. We know this, we brought shields. It fires and fizzles along my storm shield, crackling sounds of weapon discharge against defense. My sword swings as I pull my shield away, it takes her arm and then cuts through most of her. For mortals they move swift these Haraman, but to the transhuman faculties of an Astartes they might as well be standing still. “Kill these mongrel dogs”, I bark out as five men rush forward. They are armed with blades, ah their vaunted blade masters. Seven seconds later they are dead, the last dying as my boot crushes his chest into the watery streets.

 

Lightning flashes above us, from it I spot a sniper position. “Venos”, I bark at one of my men, his rotor cannon spins up and shreds the building. I can see the Imperial position. Caught between my men and them, these foul mongrels try to kill the easiest men even harder. “Corwin, cut them down. The rest of you with me!”, I begin to run, an arduous task in heavy armor, my men follow, only twenty or so follow Corwin, even that is almost overkill.

 

We smash into the enemy ranks, spreading out ahead of the Imperial Army who cheer as we arrive. Their morale restored they fight harder, throwing curses of hate out them. The craven creatures break as we arrive, “Cut them down!”, I shout to the Imperial cannoneers. Their battle tanks belch fire and smoke as bombs detonate among the mongrels. “They are falling back to the Palace my Lord”, a grim faced man says. He's bleeding from his eyebrow and his left eye is cut to pieces. “My men are there now..”, I say with a smirk.

 

“Come let us be the hammer against their anvil, these creatures fall today”

 

When we arrive at the palace though their remnants, broken and bleeding have fallen already. Radolph is standing among the numbered corpses, good man, keeping back and being a commander and not a simple warrior. I know he relishes to test his blade, all of us do. I clasp his forearm as we join up, the Imperial Army elements spreading out behind our battle line.

 

There are several smoking turrets that line the breadth of the palace, broken and discarded. “Why have you not breached the gate yet?”, Radolph grits his teeth, “Some sort of void technology, we are putting as much strain as we can on the gate”, I nod. But this is not our first world, not our first fortress. Corwin moves in with the last of the Hastian Fifth, “What did I miss?”, I point my sword at the Palace gate.

 

Then as if they saw me, the gate begins to open. Looming large over our gathered men they hold their ground, weapons poised but not firing. Perhaps a surrender, I doubt it, these creatures enjoy dying to a man. There is a thumping sound, then another and a third, then several more. I can see the tension in our Brothers, “Hold firm.. whatever comes out of that gate, we will destroy it”, then after my words, we begin to die.

 

A blast of plasma energy spears from the door, bursting through the front armor of a Predator, an explosion rips through it. The first of our enemies shows his self, he is taller then a Space Marine but smaller in stature, almost a normal human were it not for his blank face. It's hand ends in a cannon, the other wielding a blade. It hums to life again and three Astartes find their graves, blasted by the plasma gun. “On them!”, I shout, breaking the shock of their power. Weapons open up through the gathered men, mass reactive shells smash into their chests, but don't penetrate. If anything they char their golden bodies.

 

There are only twelve but they are swifter then us, far swifter. They burst with speed and even our transhuman senses have trouble keeping up. All are armed differently, some enjoy to come in close, to test themselves against us. I grit my teeth at the ease at which we are slain, no.. slain is too kind a word slaughtered. We are like children against them, then a Land Raider opens fire, twin spears of light smash into the plasma gun armed being, dissecting it.

 

With a calmness it turns towards the Land Raider and launches itself forward, sword in hand. I move to intersect, death by several swords but it falls, taking four of my Brothers with him. The fighting is fierce everywhere, but we are beating them, lascannons and plasma seems to harm them. Not to mention melta weaponry, the cost is grave, but they die.

 

Radolph chafes at his collar, wanting to move forward, to enter the fortress. To claim a debt in blood, I unleash him. Those willing follow him, killing for themselves and their fallen brothers. “Made it I see”, Corwin joins me, he's missing an arm. “Bastards are damn quick”, he is already been taken care of by our apothecaries.

 

“How many..”, I look at their work, taking the bodies, stretching them out, removing their precious gene seed. “I counted thirteen around me”, the count shocks me, we lost two Astartes this entire campaign. Now..

 

When Radolph returns the tally is complete, fifty-three dead Astartes, one venerable brother dead, torn from his housing. As well as many of the Imperial Army who attempted to help. The commander of their forces comes near, joining Radolph, Corwin and myself. “Those bastards died hard..”, his eye focuses on each of us. “But.. we could have been here sooner.. where were you?”, before I can answer him, the General joins us.

 

Pompous and loud his men spread into the square before the Palace, weapons raised and ready. Their eyes alight with the thought of warfare, “It's done”, I snap at the smug face, his eyes round and set deep within his bloated face. He's not a battle General, perhaps he was ranking officer when the Imperial Army was done with it's ambush in Spire Gorge. “I.. we attempted to join you as quickly as able.. my men fell back and we had a damnable hard time getting them back into the fight”

 

“We were counting on you holding the line”, the scarred Commander says, his single good eye narrowing. “You moved too fast”, the General retorts, “But we have the brave Imperial Fists and they saved the day!”, he says with a big smile, “It wasn't necessary, if you worked together.. you could have carried the Palace yourselves”, my tone is hard, “You Commander pushed ahead hard.. but didn't look back, a bit more restraint and General.. your men lack conviction. You see the Astartes and see a way to easily obtain victory”, eyes narrow at me, “One day.. we will not be here, no Legion, no transhuman warriors to carry the day”, I keep my choler in check as best I can. “You both failed to realize you need to work together, you will inherit the Imperium.. we conquer it in your name in Humanity's name”

 

“This city is done.. the deed is done”, Radolph says tightly. He has not seen his Legion hurt in such a way before. “What happens to that”, the General points a stubby finger at the Palace. “We will secure it, make it a bastion for the Imperial Governor and his aides, my men”, I point at them, “Will guard it in Perpetuam”, the Commander snorts, “And my men deserve no monument.. they died as well.. I know they are not your valued dead..”, I consider it. His Hastian Fifth stand uneasy, the sight of their commander standing up to me. “Yes.. they should have one, this will be dubbed Victory Square and the banner of the Hastian Fifth will forever be commemorated in marble!”, my voice swells and the press of humanity cheers. The Commander nods and turns on his heel, finally receiving the attention he needs now.

 

The vox crackles to life, “This is the Quintus, VIII^th Legion”, the voice is that of a dead servitor, “We require your attention in a nearby system”, I almost have to laugh at their arrogance. This world is not yet ours, still they come to claim us. “This is Marshal Adalhard, in who's authority do you withdraw us from this planet”, the next voice is that of an Astartes, a lisp draws his words out. “This is the Huntsman.. we come bearing the word of Konrad Curze.. he requires the VII^th to break a world”, that makes sense, it's what we are known for, but for them to come asking aid.. even if their manner..

 

“This world is not compliant, when it's finished we will join you”, there is silence, then a soft whisper, almost as if the Huntsman is besides my ear. “What resists you.. mighty Imperial Fists”, I know the word, a Fortress, Yorburgh they call it, “A single fortress in the north, the last bastion of these fools. The rest.. the Imperial Army can handle”

 

“We will join you there..”, the vox link cuts out abruptly and lightning flashes overhead, I make preparations for the internment of our hallowed dead, the building of the new seat of government before gathering our Brothers and heading north. Towards the VIII^th Legion and whatever they have in store for us...

[SlangWhanger]

I like it! Not usually a fan of first person stories, but this one had tension and action. The only thing I would say is that it is not always clear who is speaking. Don't be afraid to start new lines for each new speaker. Although it will make it take up a lot more space, it makes it easier to follow and thus easier to read and enjoy!

 

I'm looking forward to meeting those Night Lords though, and Yorburgh... "Walls fail, Fists do not!"

[Tyear]

                                                                                  Part one: Fortress Yorburgh

 

The rains had continued unabated, the deluge making the ground slip away beneath the tracks of our legion armor, as such I ordered a tactical redeployment via Thunderhawk and Stormbird gunships, when we arrived the Imperial camp was still, their siege engines in place, but none fired, men looked tired and hopeless in the rain. Their eyes lit up at the sight of the mighty Adeptus Astartes, but they didn't cheer as we passed.

 

What terror had gripped their hearts I wondered, as my men spread out across the grounds, assessing the siege capabilities, plotting new firing solutions I made my way towards the command tent. Inside I met a Colonel, his eyes lit up at the sight of me. “My lord, I didn't know you were coming”, my eyes narrowed beneath my helmet, he looked dirty, ill-kept, a five day stubble on his face. His uniform was unclean. “Why is no one firing, why are your men at such low morale, what happened?”, I demanded, “The enemy.. their fortress is guarded by a void shield, we cannot break it, whatever we threw at it, nothing worked”, he looked terrified at the prospect of what I might do to him. “My men do not have the capabilities to enter the void shield.. we tried but.. I lost many of my men.. they are still before the fortress guns”

 

I march forward, the Colonel flinches, “You did your best, but this is a job for Astartes, not men”, then a shadow detaches himself from the wall. Like vapor he appears, Mark II plate, stylized, veteran issue. Powersword attached to his belt, volkite pistol in a holster. My internal systems create firing solutions at once, before realizing it's another Astartes. “Hello Marshal..”, his voice is that of the Huntsman. He's wearing his helmet as well, I nod towards him, “I did not see your brothers.. Huntsman..”, I say, marching closer and extending my hand. He looks down at it.. then at me.

 

“We are here..”, he says, before turning away from me, eying the tactical engine. The fortress revealed, it's stress points, the data engines having done much of the work. “Be ready to enter the fortress when the gate opens..”, he turns to me. I bite my first remark back, “How do you expect to enter the fortress, it's well guarded, we cannot breach the void shields”, he eyes me, “We have other ways then you.. son of Dorn”, I can almost sense his smile behind his helmet. His red eye lenses looking at me, testing me. “Then show me what you can do Son of Konrad Curze”, I bite back. He taps my breast plate, “My father's name when we march to war is not Konrad Curze”, his voice seems to be besides my ear, “It is the Night Haunter..”, he walks past me, out into the rain. A flash of lightning illuminating him before he disappears.

 

Radolph joins me shortly after, “The VIII has not appeared yet”, I shake my head, “They have, they will launch their assault shortly.. we are instructed to wait until the gate opens, assemble a spearhead. I will lead them myself”, Radolph smashes a fist into his breast plate, an old salute before walking away.

 

I prepare myself for war once again, this time though I carry a bolter with my sword. A gift from a fellow captain of the Blood Angels, a work of artifice, golden angelic wings spiral down from the barrel. It's muzzle made of gold as well, inlaid with diamonds. “Sons of Dorn, we fight together with another Legion, another arm of the Emperor's Will!”, my voice thunders above the lightning spearing the sky. “We march with the Night Lords, sons of Konrad Curze, soon they will open the gate and we will slay the last of the resistance on this foul planet!”

 

A cheer rises from my men before we assemble, standing inside of my personal Land Raider I check the void shields, they are still up. Then with a sudden snap, they turn off, the water falling on the corpses of the fallen Imperial Army soldiers. Slowly the gate starts to open before us, with practiced skill we burst forward. Rumbling tanks plot firing solutions, but nothing opens on us. “Do not fire.. keep this place intact for the Mechanicum”, I order swiftly. Strange..

 

As we exit our assault crafts, boots crashing into the slowly muddying ground we march in. Bolters flash up, firing lanes are created. But.. there is no one inside the fortress, no spent bullet casings either. It is.. as if the enemy has vanished, disappeared without even a whimper. No gunfire is on the walls, it is truly as if.. there was never anyone here. “Be cautious”, we spread out, allowing our auspex to show us the way towards the central chamber, where we assume their command is.

 

A sense of deep unease lingers on us, Corwin joins me, “I've got a bad feeling about this..”, he's wielding a combi bolter and holding a power axe. “Where are they?”, I glance at him, “The enemy?”, he shakes his helmeted head, “No.. the VIII Legion”, that has been on my mind, we have seen none of them. “Huntsman”, I find myself hating the name, “please show us the location of your Legion brothers, we do not wish to fire upon friendly forces”, there is a vox response, a simple click and a blip on our auspex. A single one.

 

As we march into the command chamber, I am greeted by the sight of him. He stands beside a oak table, a decanter on it. There is no one else here, not a soul. “Son of Dorn.. what took you so long?”, I can hear the smile beneath his helmet, “Where is the enemy?”, I say with a tremor of.. outrage.. no.. annoyance, “Gone..”, he takes two glasses from behind the decanter. They are crystal and quite delicate. “I found this among the commanding officer's personal belongings.. a toast”, he takes the decanter, pouring red liquid from it, filling the two glasses. “To another compliant Imperial world”

 

I march closer, eyes narrow, taking my helmet seals I unhook them. With a hiss of air I taste the inside of this place. It's a tomb.. or it smells like it, perhaps he smells like it. I cannot tell, he does the same. His face revealed, it's like a horror show. A plasma burn covers the left upper part of his skull, a corona of weathered flesh, his lip is torn and broken. His right eye an augmetic one, clearest white. “Brother..”, his voice sounds even worse without his helmet. He raises one glass and hands it to me, “A toast..”, he takes the other and I tap it softly. Drinking the wine I nearly gag, it's blood.. and wine. His eye narrows, “Is something not to your liking?”, he asks, finishing his glass before shattering it on the ground. “It was infused with blood.. who's?”, he smiles and comes closer. “We are closer now Brother”, he touches my chest and I need to keep myself from smashing his hand aside. “Leave..”, I growl, “.. we will join you shortly..”, he smiles, “Do not keep my master waiting too long.. Ave Dominus Nox..”, he whispers in my ear before reattaching his helmet and passing my Brothers.

 

Radolph and Corwin join me as I look at the glass, the bloodwine still lingering on it. “What was in that?”, I shake my head, it doesn't matter before putting the glass down. “Gather our Legion elements Corwin, I need them back aboard the Titus as swiftly as you are able”, Radolph stands ready. “You will secure the fortress Radolph.. make sure there is no one left, then hand it over to the Imperial Army and Mechanicum personnel”, he looks at me, “Where are you going Marshal?”, I march from the hall. “After him..”, but when I exit the room he's already gone. It doesn't matter.. we will see each other soon enough.

 

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@SlangWhanger

Thank you for your kind words, I hope you like the Huntsman and the Night Lords...