FORCES OF ORDER
318th Taurian Marines
Raised from the death world Taurus before the beginning of the Chaos incursion into the Konor system, the Taurian marines were bloodied turing that fateful conflict. After many years of garrison duty elsewhere in the Ultima Segmentum, they were mobilized to Konor, where the Regiment fought on the front lines on Astaramis and Loebos. With the Konor champaign finished, the 318th’s Delta Company were resupplied and redeployed to Pyrriah to continue in their part of the Astra Militarum’s work while the rest of the Regiment was re-fitted before moving to join their comrades.
Homeworld Taurus: The death world Taurus is unusual in that it can almost be classified as an agri world due to its suitability for krill farms across it’s mostly water covered surface. However the planet is wracked by perpetual large storms that can lay waste to anything not securely anchored to the sodden archipelago land masses that dot the planet. Combined with aggressive amphibious wildlife and the tenacious fast growing fauna, the Imperium has yet to fully tame the planet. However Imperial Guard regiments raised from this world are known for their ability to fight and quickly deploy in even the most bogged down, unsuitable weather.
Warlord: Delta Company Commander Luke Bonilla. Elected to Company commander from the remains of Epsilon Squad after a hollowing out of the command structure of the 318th on Loebos, Luke Bonilla is a respected, if not entirely experienced commander. However like all of the 318th he is skilled in establishing beachheads and a style of rapid warfare that is unusual amongst the usually plodding Astra Militarum, though the influence of the hot-headed tank commander Armand Quentin is easily noted.
Ryza Forgeworld
Warlord: Magos Dominus Zhokav
Mission: 01010010 01100101 01100011 01101100 01100001 01101001 01101101 00100000 01101100 01101111 01110011 01110100 00100000 01101011 01101110 01101111 01110111 01101100 01100101 01100100 01100111 01100101 00101110 00100000 01000101 01101100 01101001 01101101 01101001 01101110 01100001 01110100 01100101 00100000 00100000 01100001 01101110 01111001 00100000 01110111 01101000 01101111 00100000 01110011 01101100 01101111 01110111 00100000 01110100 01101000 01100101 00100000 01100100 01101001 01110110 01101001 01101110 01100101 00100000 01110000 01110101 01110010 01110000 01101111 01110011 01100101 00101110 00100000 01000110 01101111 01110010 00100000 01110100 01101000 01100101 00100000 01001111 01101101 01101110 01101001 01110011 01110011 01101001 01100001 01101000 00101110 00100000
(Translation: "Reclaim lost knowledge. Eliminate any who slow the divine purpose. For the Omnissiah.")
Grey Knights (Brother Captain Octavian Secundus)
Warlord: Brother-Captain Octavian Secundas (Brother Captain)
Paragon Octavian Secundas has been newly promoted to the rank of Brother-Captain after the death of his friend and mentor Adrianus on an excursion to Siotis NG7. The infestation of demonkin of Khorne was much worse than anticipated and many lives were lost before the inevitable Exterminatus. Now Secundas has been ordered to Pyrriah to evaluate the Chaos presence there and to contain the damage and influence of demonic forces by any means necessary. It is first assignment as a freshly minted Brother-Captain.
Grey Knights (Inquisitor Von Heldane)
To be revealed...
Tools of the Inquisition
Inquisitor Eruden Vah is an imposing figure that turned against his Chapter as they turned to the Dark Gods in the carnage after the Badab war. He stripped off all allegiance markings and pulled together a desperate unit of those still loyal from his own Chapter and others to exact retribution upon his former Chapter. That is where the Inquisition found him and his band, he had amassed a sizable force of rogue Space Marines and Astra Militarum that were still loyal to the Emperor. He has been a tool of the Inquisition ever since.
Little trusted among Space Marines Chapters, he has often had to resort to unorthodox methods to counter threats to the Imperium (sometimes even working with Xenos). He has proven time and time again as an invaluable resource for the Inquisition. Recently Eruden Vah was given authority by Ordos Xenos to command and enlist forces to counter the emerging threats on Pyrriah.
Space Wolves (Wolf Lord Skoll Sun Chaser)Wolf Lord Sköll Sun Chaser stood beside Máni, his long-time companion. He could tell by the ever slight twitches at Máni’s jowl that the beast was ready for battle. Both stood tall, (though Máni sat on her haunches), eyes soft but alert; the composure of a man of authority beside his most loyal friend.
Sköll had not foreseen another battle laid upon his men so soon. They had only recently returned to Fenris after another seemingly failed Great Hunt. His men only given mere days to brawl amongst friends again before returned to their armor and sent amidst the sea of stars. Russ still eluded them, though the Vlka Fenryka knew he was out there somewhere. He had to be.
Staring out the front window of his ship Sköll studied their destination. He too felt the adrenaline of battle bubbling within him. He reflected quietly to himself as he often did, how it seemed that he and Máni were becoming more and more one being. Though Máni appeared as any other thunderwolf attached to her rider, Sköll sensed that their bond was deeper. He knew she felt it too. Too long had they been in war, too often shared experiences of bloodlust and survival. It seemed they synced with each others every mood and impulses. She was rarely seen not by his side. He reached a tender arm over placing it firmly on her hairy forearm. “Soon” he whispered to her, keeping his eyes locked on Pyrriah. Without turning from the window, he spoke a simple command to his nearby guard, “Tell the men the mead’s on the house tonight. Tomorrow, we prepare for war.”
Space Wolves (Wolf Lord Thengir Daemonbane)
Thengir relaxed his grip on the console in front of him as he watched his ship emerge from the Great Rift on the holosphere in front of him. For too long the strike cruiser Bloodmoon had been thought lost to the Imperium, stuck somewhere beyond the Cicatrix Maledictum. For too long they had been forced to fight their way through the renegades, heretics, and xenos threats that the dark imperium threw at that. And time and time again they would emerge victorious, although the cost had sometimes been great. He thought back among the losses they had sustained, the brothers who had fallen at his side. The decision to paint their armor crimson to honor the blood of their fallen brothers was unanimous among what remained of Thengir's company. The red plates on their armor would always be a constant reminder of those who went before them.
He looked around at the sparsely populated bridge. Only Thengir and his retinue were left to navigate and control the vessel. To his right stood Alrik Iceborn, the old and wise Rune Priest. Next to him was Rannik Wyrmblade, the young and impetuous pupil of Alrik. Both of the Rune Priests had proven themselves time and time again in battle, although Rannik had a tendency to disregard his orders and charge headlong into enemy. This ferocious spirit had earned him the name Rageborn.
Stoically standing to his left was Grimm Frostvein. The Wolf Priest had saved Thengir's life more times than he could count. Thengir ran his hand over the bionic plate that made up the left half of his head. It was Grimm who saved him from the demon attack that almost ended him. Many of the brothers of the company owed their lives to him. Next to Grimm was Odin, the Pale Wolf, clad in his bone colored armor holding his wolf helm in his hand. Odin was always the first to charge into battle with Thengir and would always be found where the fighting was the heaviest. There was no one the Wolf Lord would rather have at his side in battle.
Thengir's attention was drawn back to the holosphere in front of him as an alert began to chime. There were lseveral chaos warbands heading towards the planet Pyrriah. He had noticed the trails of two Space Wolf vessels bound for the planet.
"It is a good day for a fight my friends", he said fervently to the retinue around him.
"One more battle to avenge our fallen brothers. Tell my Wolf Guard to arm their shields, and bring me my hammer. Tonight we hunt..."
Space Wolves (Wolf Lord Ferric Seafang)
As the Space Wolves Battleship, the the Will of Retribution Translated from the immaterium into real space, claxons began to sound all over the bridge. Ferric Seafang, as he was known to his brothers on the ship, pulled up read-outs of the ongoing conflict in void, as well as on the surface, of what they had come to reclaim for the All-Father. The Wolf Priest, Bran Whitepelt, was the first to speak.
"A great battle is underway, what quarry made your decision to wage our war here?"
Ferric let out a deep, thunderous, bark of a laugh. "What need have I to make war on our foe? Revenge? Honor? Thirst for a fresh Kill?"
"You know why I ask. Dark Secrets lie on this world, the Rune skryers foresee great works going on here."
"Hah, so you know. It was truly not yet the time of the Great Hunt when the runes were cast, yet they believe greatness awaits on this world." He Let out a chuckle. "Perhaps this will be a battle foretold in the Sagas by our Skjalds? What do you think of what we find here?"
"Only I have certain power over you here welp, but I still follow you into battle. Your way of war has been... erratic of late. Let us talk in earnest."
After a long pause Ferric guested to the dais over the command throne. There sat a Giant Stone circle, split into 13 even pieces, representing each of the great comapanies of the Space Wolves. Of the 13 companies, one was lost to an unknown fate, and two had just lost their Wolf Lords. He whispered to bran so that only he could hear. "Our Champions and Lords have been lost, our worlds populace scoured and burned by the inquisition, for only what they had seen. The Runes... they had strange meaning... One priest sees a chance for great challenge, for possible ascension. The other sees an end...perhaps death.. perhaps an answer...though who knows? We received communicae for help, and you know that we will never falter to take the battle to the enemy, and Russ knows, there are many there for us..."
Whitepelt Looked to the view finder and inspected it. "You have yet to pick your mantle of true battle Ferric, you have never truly chosen your axe, like the new born of our kind. You wage war in many ways. Truly better than most, I have yet to see others cut threads as you do. Your men try to replicate that in every battle, to live up to your challenge, and yet you have never truly met your limit. Maybe now is the time for you to truly be tested. Perhaps we will find true meaning in this battle, perhaps... other than.. what we normally relish and thirst for."
The true demeanor of Ferric came back, and his frame seemed to shed much weight as he stood up from the command chair. He was large, even for a Space Wolf, bulkier than most, but so swift of moment, that even as he walked down the stairs, you could see the ease of his step. He let his kill urge flood back into his being, and it was instantly palpable in the room, making the hackles stand on everyone in the room. He addressed his gathered retinue of Wolf Guard, the chosen elite of Fenris.
"What say you, brothers? Do you think that my way of war is strange? That I have no true calling as a warrior?"
A Slow murmur of disagreement rumbled around the gathered. One of the Wolf Guard spoke out. "You can fight in many ways lord. What true calling is it you speak of?
Ferric growled deep. "I am the Leader of this company, and yet have never found my true way of war. I have been bested in sword by Ragnar, Stared down, and beaten in will, by Krom, Crushed under the anvil of pure might by Arjac, out-ridden by the skill of Harold, and shown my Limitations of leadership by Grimnar. And yet I still fight for a story in the Saga's. As we lay waste to our enemies on Pyrriah what do you think we have for us here, just another battle? A chance to let our thirst for battle be quenched?
Some looks of confusion went around the Wolf Gaurd, others had looks of battle lust, but one knew what he meant and spoke out.
"No Lord, you will prove today, that you are a master of all the ways of war! As you have made all of us! We are like the sea, our force is ever changing. We erode even the most powerful with our ever changing current of battle. We are the crushing WAVES in the Sea of Stars, under the Leadership of the SEAFANG!"
The Wolf Guard Began to beat their hands against their armor, just as they did with their axes against their shields, as they used to in their fledgling life back on the Ice of Fenris.
Ferric held up his arms and belted "Skitja, we are the Vylake Fenrika! The Wolves of Fenris! We wage our riteous war in the name of RUSS! !And the All Father! We will make our Saga's known to our enemies and allies alike! Our time is now! To show that we are masters of WAR, and that we will meet any foe, and make it an EVEN ground. No enemy shall forget us, even in hell. To War My Brothers! Let us Descend on these villains like the wolves of old!
A blood curdling cry erupted from all of the warriors on the Bridge. "FENRIS HOLDJAAAAA!!!"
Death Watch (Watchmaster Ulysses)
Watchmaster Ulysses stood silently as he gazed at the view port within the confines of his personal quarters. His Kill-Ship, the strike cruiser known as Xenos Lives Splatter, had just exited the immaterium to arrive at its destination known as the Pyrriah system. Ulysses contemplated the upcoming events. Although he did not possess the mastery of the warp that his brothers in the librarium wielded, he knew this latest venture would be his last.
Initial reports received from Imperial forces indicated that the Pyrriah system had become a hot bed of Xenos and Heretical activity. Forces composed of some of the Imperium's greatest heroes were congregating to purge the Pyrriah system of all taint. If there was ever an opportunity to honor the Emperor and forge new legends, it was here and now.
Ulysses' sighed heavily as he begrudgingly reminded himself that his objective here was not to serve the Emperor, but rather the personal greed of this puny upstart of an Inquisitor. Ulysses had served with the honorable Death Watch for nearly three centuries. He had reluctantly cut his ties with his former chapter, The Iron Snakes, when the Ordos Xenos had approached him directly to assume the mantle of Watchmaster. Since that time, Ulysses has forged an almost unparalleled career of Xenos warfare. He had never doubted his position in the Death Watch, or the honor it earned in the eyes of the Emperor....until now.
Requisitioned by Ordos Xenos High Inquisitor Mav Bonner nearly 30 standard years ago, Ulysses and his fellow battle brothers have been seemingly enslaved to the whims of a mad man. System to system, planet to planet; Ulysses and his men served as nothing more than errand boys, retrieving so-called "Xenos Artifacts" to elevate the prestige of one man. Requests for aid from Imperial worlds were ignored. Opportunities to strike at Xenos forces were avoided. Inquisitor Bonner had the noble Death Watch operating in the shadows, using the deaths of millions of imperial citizens to mask his operations from prying eyes.
Now the inquisitor had his malicious sights set on the Pyrriah system. With the launching of the Promethium Crusade, Inquisitor Bonner would no doubt use the distraction to extricate whatever "priceless" artifact he currently desires.
Ulysses would stand for it no longer....Come what may, by the end of this crusade the Inquisitor's throat would be securely wrapped in his armored fingers.
Astra Militarum/Swords of the Empire (Colonel Delores Markus Boer)
Colonel Delores Markus Boer loved vegetables. There was no simpler pleasure to him than seeing something planted, sprout, grow, and sustain. On a planet where military service was revered as the way to escape a life of toil and to travel the stars, dreaming of nothing but agrarian pursuits did not make for an easy childhood among his classmates. Being named for his Grandmother, matriarch of a large family of farmers in the line he had hoped to continue, didn't help. Irony struck in the form of an autothresher and being forced to replace the limb the machine he venerated took, Boer's life was claimed by the only ones authorized to give him an artifical replacement: the Astra Militarum. He was sure half of the thrust that took him into orbit was the angry glares of those behind him who were seen as indispensable in feeding the Emperor's children, envious of the glory he was sure to see.
The campaigns that followed saw Boer rise through the ranks as he fought in the company legends and the forgotten alike. He could not remember the name of the first man that fell beside him, the sum of the soldier's life exsanguinated across Markus' previously spotless uniform, but remembered vividly the following moments as the azure armored hand of Roboute Gulliman threw him forward again into the fray, the Angel of the Emperor's bellowing easily overcoming the cacophony of carnage around him. Where the resurrected primarch began, many prestigious Swords of the Empire followed, dragging Boer through a service record near unmatched in the ranks of his peers. But where the medals of the many spoke to accomplished glory, Delores Markus Boer could at best claim only participation. A farmer at heart, leadership was not a born talent. His talent, instead, was staying alive despite the odds. In an organization that relied on those incapable of command to succumb to the fury of the enemy punishing incompetence or a Commissar punishing cowardice, Boer's knack for knowing when to duck without retreating stymied the status quo, and after continued promotions his rank was built on the backs of those more capable and the men he left on the battlefield as the inexplicable sole survivor.
And so he persisted, witnessing all the abominations the universe had to offer. He had long suspected the command above him knew he didn't belong in the ranks of the elite as his missions became soon became as dangerous as they were eclectic. The moment he started receiving direction from an Inquisitor instead of a General solidified in his mind Boer's place as a puppet, drawing on the authority of his command to allocate forces for missions where he seldom knew the goal. But, he survived. He survived where the recently replaced Primaris Ultramarine Captain didn't, the battle brothers performing litanies of purification three decks below, lamenting the gene seed now in the hands of a Death Guard horror following the now all-to-familiar warp storm as it crackled about the galaxy. Boer survived a suicide raid as his artificial arm was ripped off by an Ork warlord, using the Xenos' moment of triumph as enough time to bring his pistol to bear unexpectedly quelling the resolve of his enemy, claiming the strategic outpost as a critical supply lynchpin for the Imperial forces. Boer survived a hopeless last stand as the Aeldari Wave Serpent overran his squad, grav waves pushing him so deep into the muck it took days to dig himself free, pulled the last few inches by the hand of an Adeptus Astartes which reclaimed the mining colony in the name of the Emperor once again. In the face of each specter of death he remained, ever flexible, taking with gusto each impossible assignment only to find himself inexorably alive. With muted pleasure, Markus knew every battle from which he returned with every ensuing medal he was awarded, it brought him closer to having authority to claim the Office of Protector of his homeworld, to be reunited with his family and to find at least a semblance of the quiet life he yearned for.
Boer thought again of vegetables as the sarcophagus that took the most of his already cramped cabin wheezed, sustaining the motionless contents inside. It was a dim hope he would never again see what was inside once the purpose of his mission became clear. The dead skull mask barely visible behind the frosted glass barely spoke to the unspeakable slaughter the assassin was capable of. Why the Inquisitor did not use the specialized craft which normally delivered these barely human weapons, Boer didn't dare ask. He also didn't concern himself with why it had to be in his quarters rather than any of the innumerable cargo holds of the ship. He also didn't question the necessity of the sheer scale of the weapons of destruction carried in the ship's confines, everything from the most powerful weapons of the Astra Militarum and Adeptus Astartes to the clandestine operative barely held in stasis before him, all capable of destroying creation in a magnitude he had never witnessed. Those that asked questions rarely appreciated the response from the iron handed Inquisition. This mission, like many before it, and as many to come as his life would allow, were simply using him as a figurehead for a much deeper plan. But, figureheads tended to stay alive, and those that stayed alive might once again see the fields they so loved.
The door opened forcefully as the Inquisitor followed so closely as to convince Markus for a brief moment the two were the same. Wordlessly the bloodshot eyes of the Imperial Agent met with Boer's as the latter took the scroll out of former's outstreched hand. The robed figure turned abruptly and left as quickly as he came, allowing Boer to digest the details of the mission he was finally privy to. Boer saw the familiar words describing the untold savagery of the forces of Chaos but stopped abruptly at the name of the system to which he was ferrying damnation: "Pyrriah"
Home.
This wasn't how it was supposed to end.
2nd Concordian Independent Super-Heavy Tank Armoured Regiment
Lord Marshal Katerina Malinenko adjusted her fine leather overgloves as she listened to the briefing. Such luxuries were, of course, rare, in this galaxy of steel and blood, and even her home planet, the Hive World of Concordia, had long lost its native wildlife to the thick clouds of industrial smog and relentless outward march of the shantytowns that expanded from the overcrowded hives. But the Lord Marshal was a member of the Senatus Concordia, a relic of a forgotten age of democracy and progress that now merely was host to an overgrown aristocracy. House Malinenko outright owned one of the hives and all who claimed residence there, and Katerina, the daughter of house's patriarch, Orlov Malinenko, had been brought up in an air of wealth and finery that was tempered only by her visits to her mother after whom she was named: Catherine Lynaris, a convent sister from the nearby shrine world of Provosa. Thus was it that Lord Marshal Malinenko was a child of two worlds: piety, discipline, and determination on Provosa, and intrigue, education, and luxury on Concordia. Her thoughts briefly wandered to her looks, of which she was always aware; the Senatus Concordia was as concerned with appearance as with capability. Her long, brilliantly white overcoat and mantle woven from golden threads added to her leather gloves as symbols of her status, while her exquisite pants and heavy, metal-mesh boots proved both stylish and durable. Her duelling rapier, named Gloriana, hung at her side, opposite the smooth, almost sensual lines of her holstered needle pistol. Her face bore a cybernetic eye, a testament to her influence with the Adeptus Mechanicus and to an injury long-since passed, which whirred softly as her eyes lost focus. Atop her head, cropped fairly short, was the characteristic purple-grey hair of the Provosans, a unique trait of humans born on that planet that had perhaps never been adequately investigated for taint.
A nudge from one of her halberd-wielding druzhina started her back to the present, and while she was groomed and professional enough not to show it, her hesitation in answering the question betrayed her. "Are your tanks capable of this task, Lord Marshal?" repeated the briefing Lieutenant, bowing his head slightly in deference to the powerful regimental commander. Regimental Commanders in the Imperial Guard were universally well-respected, but the commanders of its superheavy tank regiments especially so among their number.
"Yes." came Katerina's reply. She didn't even know what was being asked of her; but she knew her men and vehicles could handle it. Among them, her white coat and stern but fair demeanor had earned her the moniker of "The White Queen", and she could oftentimes seen standing openly on the command deck of the Banehammer Rodina, directing the eight companies of the 2nd Concordian Independent Super Heavy Tank Armoured Regiment (ISHTAR, colloquially known as "Ishtar" after some ancient, forgotten deity) throughout the campaign area. Some men from other regiments often assumed the nickname was derogatory, but when Concordian Baneblades, Stormswords or Stormhammers arrived on the battlefield to support them, weapons thundering with the rage of bellowing gods, most came to understand what was meant. And always, at the end of it all, Lord Marshal Katerina Malinenko and her household bodyguards, retinue, and other hangers-on always disembarked from Rodina to celebrate their victory, and as always, her overcoat remained blindingly bright no matter the dirt or dust of the battlefield.
With that single word answer, the Lieutenant returned to his briefing. Katerina turned her head to her Executive Officer, and smiled. "Major, would you kindly tell the Witch-Priest and Magos Endellion that we will be deploying shortly? Especially the Magos. I want to ensure that each company has support from at least one enginseer before the regiment splits up. I do hate playing the fire-brigade." she murmured, before stepping forwards to examine the holo-map, leather on her gloves crinkling a bit as she curled her fingers, and turned her gaze to the other Regimental Commanders of her battlegroup, focusing on Praefect-Militant Avaernius Scynna from the world of Mojurant, commander of the 11th Mojuran Fusiliers. They had fought with the Concordians since before the Great Rift opened, and while of course those officers were long dead, the two regiments still valued their working relationship. Praefect Scynna's hooded and cowled form nodded subtly at her gaze, the glinting eyes of his chemical rebreather meeting Lord Marshal Malinenko's own. The rough-and-tumble Mojurans came from a world with corrupt air, and though their evolved forms could breathe freely on its surface, they needed rebreathers almost anywhere else. At the thought of the air, Lord Marshal Malinenko took in a deep breath as the Lieutenant droned on and on. She missed the smell of her tanks, but as always, she had to stay at the stuffy briefing, surrounded by her retinue. Appearances, after all, mattered.
Inquisition (Inquisitor Lucrezia, Head of House Borgia, Ordo Malleus)
She stood on the bridge of her family’s flagship vessel malcador’s cunning and looked out at the peaceful world before her. She thought back to when the black ships came to her own world and stole her away from her life of privilege. Was it not for the bribes and threats of a assassination of her father she may have been blinded as an astropath or fed to the golden throne. Instead she was trained as an inquisitor, an agent in the emperors holy ordos.
Her navigator nero was reporting a clean and uneventful warp jump, At least he had the good sense to remain sober before telling her although she imagined he was pouring himself a glass of wine as they spoke. Still in spite of his alcoholism he was the best navigator in the fleet. She’d imagined that if heed had the good since to remain sober longer then a week a rogue trader would have made him a better offer. She called to her vox officer. “tell my personal guard, the kill team and the…….specialists to meet me in the hangar bay. She had to stop herself before she mentioned the gray knights. Although she thought it ridiculous the official position of the Ordos was that the knights of titan did not exist.
She stood before her assembled platoon. The men that made up her personal bodyguard had once been called the black rifles. Known for their exceeding skill in desert warfare they had helped her in purging a heretical cult that had sprung up on a remote world known only as 63:19. The cult had managed to summon a daemon and she needed to seek aid from titan. Once the cult had been purged she offered the men a choice. The emperors peace in the form of a bolter round to the face. Or service in the ordo’s. needless to say the men had chosen to become her personal bodyguard, they hand proven invaluable and had saved her life on many an occasion. she glanced quickly at darrek who was having trouble readying his flamer with his one remaining hand. The grim faced veteran of the Armageddon wars had refused all offers of a prostatic out of some form of misguided martial pride. Still the mans skill with a flamer was amazing and he had put many a heretic to the flame.
The knights of titan stood in grim attention as the death watch kill team strolled in. Leif the lucky, the jovial space wolf of her kill team shouted. I hear my battle brothers are in orbit, any chance I could pop over and say high, I promise I’ll bring you back a bottle of fenrisian ale that will knock you on your…”
“ ill let you play with your friends if there is time” the inquisitor interrupted. “right now we have a job to do.” She cleared her through and began the briefing.
“listen up, we have an important job to do, this world has been overrun by heretical and xenos forces. Furthermore I have found out through my research that this planet may contain a vault from the dark age of technology that has been sealed away since the coming of the emperor. This vault cannot be opened by heretical or xenos forces, I have authorization to destroy it to prevent this from happening. Those of you who paid attention in your history lessons should know that the technology in that vault could turn the tide in this war. Does everyone understand.” The gray knights simply nodded well the black rifles replied with a quick “ yes mam” the deathwatch marines agreed with the exeption of the iron hand who objected “a vault from the dark age of technology would be invaluable to the macanicam destroying it would be a blasphemy against the machine god.” “I will not be the inquisitor that gave the men of iron to the ruinous powers” she replied. At the mention of the mythical men of iron who had almost destroyed humanity before the coming of the emperor the iron hand was silenced. “Now if nobody has any more interruptions I will lead us in a prayer”
Ultramarines 2-B (to be provided)....
Raised from the death world Taurus before the beginning of the Chaos incursion into the Konor system, the Taurian marines were bloodied turing that fateful conflict. After many years of garrison duty elsewhere in the Ultima Segmentum, they were mobilized to Konor, where the Regiment fought on the front lines on Astaramis and Loebos. With the Konor champaign finished, the 318th’s Delta Company were resupplied and redeployed to Pyrriah to continue in their part of the Astra Militarum’s work while the rest of the Regiment was re-fitted before moving to join their comrades.
Homeworld Taurus: The death world Taurus is unusual in that it can almost be classified as an agri world due to its suitability for krill farms across it’s mostly water covered surface. However the planet is wracked by perpetual large storms that can lay waste to anything not securely anchored to the sodden archipelago land masses that dot the planet. Combined with aggressive amphibious wildlife and the tenacious fast growing fauna, the Imperium has yet to fully tame the planet. However Imperial Guard regiments raised from this world are known for their ability to fight and quickly deploy in even the most bogged down, unsuitable weather.
Warlord: Delta Company Commander Luke Bonilla. Elected to Company commander from the remains of Epsilon Squad after a hollowing out of the command structure of the 318th on Loebos, Luke Bonilla is a respected, if not entirely experienced commander. However like all of the 318th he is skilled in establishing beachheads and a style of rapid warfare that is unusual amongst the usually plodding Astra Militarum, though the influence of the hot-headed tank commander Armand Quentin is easily noted.
Ryza Forgeworld
Warlord: Magos Dominus Zhokav
Mission: 01010010 01100101 01100011 01101100 01100001 01101001 01101101 00100000 01101100 01101111 01110011 01110100 00100000 01101011 01101110 01101111 01110111 01101100 01100101 01100100 01100111 01100101 00101110 00100000 01000101 01101100 01101001 01101101 01101001 01101110 01100001 01110100 01100101 00100000 00100000 01100001 01101110 01111001 00100000 01110111 01101000 01101111 00100000 01110011 01101100 01101111 01110111 00100000 01110100 01101000 01100101 00100000 01100100 01101001 01110110 01101001 01101110 01100101 00100000 01110000 01110101 01110010 01110000 01101111 01110011 01100101 00101110 00100000 01000110 01101111 01110010 00100000 01110100 01101000 01100101 00100000 01001111 01101101 01101110 01101001 01110011 01110011 01101001 01100001 01101000 00101110 00100000
(Translation: "Reclaim lost knowledge. Eliminate any who slow the divine purpose. For the Omnissiah.")
Grey Knights (Brother Captain Octavian Secundus)
Warlord: Brother-Captain Octavian Secundas (Brother Captain)
Paragon Octavian Secundas has been newly promoted to the rank of Brother-Captain after the death of his friend and mentor Adrianus on an excursion to Siotis NG7. The infestation of demonkin of Khorne was much worse than anticipated and many lives were lost before the inevitable Exterminatus. Now Secundas has been ordered to Pyrriah to evaluate the Chaos presence there and to contain the damage and influence of demonic forces by any means necessary. It is first assignment as a freshly minted Brother-Captain.
Grey Knights (Inquisitor Von Heldane)
To be revealed...
Tools of the Inquisition
Inquisitor Eruden Vah is an imposing figure that turned against his Chapter as they turned to the Dark Gods in the carnage after the Badab war. He stripped off all allegiance markings and pulled together a desperate unit of those still loyal from his own Chapter and others to exact retribution upon his former Chapter. That is where the Inquisition found him and his band, he had amassed a sizable force of rogue Space Marines and Astra Militarum that were still loyal to the Emperor. He has been a tool of the Inquisition ever since.
Little trusted among Space Marines Chapters, he has often had to resort to unorthodox methods to counter threats to the Imperium (sometimes even working with Xenos). He has proven time and time again as an invaluable resource for the Inquisition. Recently Eruden Vah was given authority by Ordos Xenos to command and enlist forces to counter the emerging threats on Pyrriah.
Space Wolves (Wolf Lord Skoll Sun Chaser)Wolf Lord Sköll Sun Chaser stood beside Máni, his long-time companion. He could tell by the ever slight twitches at Máni’s jowl that the beast was ready for battle. Both stood tall, (though Máni sat on her haunches), eyes soft but alert; the composure of a man of authority beside his most loyal friend.
Sköll had not foreseen another battle laid upon his men so soon. They had only recently returned to Fenris after another seemingly failed Great Hunt. His men only given mere days to brawl amongst friends again before returned to their armor and sent amidst the sea of stars. Russ still eluded them, though the Vlka Fenryka knew he was out there somewhere. He had to be.
Staring out the front window of his ship Sköll studied their destination. He too felt the adrenaline of battle bubbling within him. He reflected quietly to himself as he often did, how it seemed that he and Máni were becoming more and more one being. Though Máni appeared as any other thunderwolf attached to her rider, Sköll sensed that their bond was deeper. He knew she felt it too. Too long had they been in war, too often shared experiences of bloodlust and survival. It seemed they synced with each others every mood and impulses. She was rarely seen not by his side. He reached a tender arm over placing it firmly on her hairy forearm. “Soon” he whispered to her, keeping his eyes locked on Pyrriah. Without turning from the window, he spoke a simple command to his nearby guard, “Tell the men the mead’s on the house tonight. Tomorrow, we prepare for war.”
Space Wolves (Wolf Lord Thengir Daemonbane)
Thengir relaxed his grip on the console in front of him as he watched his ship emerge from the Great Rift on the holosphere in front of him. For too long the strike cruiser Bloodmoon had been thought lost to the Imperium, stuck somewhere beyond the Cicatrix Maledictum. For too long they had been forced to fight their way through the renegades, heretics, and xenos threats that the dark imperium threw at that. And time and time again they would emerge victorious, although the cost had sometimes been great. He thought back among the losses they had sustained, the brothers who had fallen at his side. The decision to paint their armor crimson to honor the blood of their fallen brothers was unanimous among what remained of Thengir's company. The red plates on their armor would always be a constant reminder of those who went before them.
He looked around at the sparsely populated bridge. Only Thengir and his retinue were left to navigate and control the vessel. To his right stood Alrik Iceborn, the old and wise Rune Priest. Next to him was Rannik Wyrmblade, the young and impetuous pupil of Alrik. Both of the Rune Priests had proven themselves time and time again in battle, although Rannik had a tendency to disregard his orders and charge headlong into enemy. This ferocious spirit had earned him the name Rageborn.
Stoically standing to his left was Grimm Frostvein. The Wolf Priest had saved Thengir's life more times than he could count. Thengir ran his hand over the bionic plate that made up the left half of his head. It was Grimm who saved him from the demon attack that almost ended him. Many of the brothers of the company owed their lives to him. Next to Grimm was Odin, the Pale Wolf, clad in his bone colored armor holding his wolf helm in his hand. Odin was always the first to charge into battle with Thengir and would always be found where the fighting was the heaviest. There was no one the Wolf Lord would rather have at his side in battle.
Thengir's attention was drawn back to the holosphere in front of him as an alert began to chime. There were lseveral chaos warbands heading towards the planet Pyrriah. He had noticed the trails of two Space Wolf vessels bound for the planet.
"It is a good day for a fight my friends", he said fervently to the retinue around him.
"One more battle to avenge our fallen brothers. Tell my Wolf Guard to arm their shields, and bring me my hammer. Tonight we hunt..."
Space Wolves (Wolf Lord Ferric Seafang)
As the Space Wolves Battleship, the the Will of Retribution Translated from the immaterium into real space, claxons began to sound all over the bridge. Ferric Seafang, as he was known to his brothers on the ship, pulled up read-outs of the ongoing conflict in void, as well as on the surface, of what they had come to reclaim for the All-Father. The Wolf Priest, Bran Whitepelt, was the first to speak.
"A great battle is underway, what quarry made your decision to wage our war here?"
Ferric let out a deep, thunderous, bark of a laugh. "What need have I to make war on our foe? Revenge? Honor? Thirst for a fresh Kill?"
"You know why I ask. Dark Secrets lie on this world, the Rune skryers foresee great works going on here."
"Hah, so you know. It was truly not yet the time of the Great Hunt when the runes were cast, yet they believe greatness awaits on this world." He Let out a chuckle. "Perhaps this will be a battle foretold in the Sagas by our Skjalds? What do you think of what we find here?"
"Only I have certain power over you here welp, but I still follow you into battle. Your way of war has been... erratic of late. Let us talk in earnest."
After a long pause Ferric guested to the dais over the command throne. There sat a Giant Stone circle, split into 13 even pieces, representing each of the great comapanies of the Space Wolves. Of the 13 companies, one was lost to an unknown fate, and two had just lost their Wolf Lords. He whispered to bran so that only he could hear. "Our Champions and Lords have been lost, our worlds populace scoured and burned by the inquisition, for only what they had seen. The Runes... they had strange meaning... One priest sees a chance for great challenge, for possible ascension. The other sees an end...perhaps death.. perhaps an answer...though who knows? We received communicae for help, and you know that we will never falter to take the battle to the enemy, and Russ knows, there are many there for us..."
Whitepelt Looked to the view finder and inspected it. "You have yet to pick your mantle of true battle Ferric, you have never truly chosen your axe, like the new born of our kind. You wage war in many ways. Truly better than most, I have yet to see others cut threads as you do. Your men try to replicate that in every battle, to live up to your challenge, and yet you have never truly met your limit. Maybe now is the time for you to truly be tested. Perhaps we will find true meaning in this battle, perhaps... other than.. what we normally relish and thirst for."
The true demeanor of Ferric came back, and his frame seemed to shed much weight as he stood up from the command chair. He was large, even for a Space Wolf, bulkier than most, but so swift of moment, that even as he walked down the stairs, you could see the ease of his step. He let his kill urge flood back into his being, and it was instantly palpable in the room, making the hackles stand on everyone in the room. He addressed his gathered retinue of Wolf Guard, the chosen elite of Fenris.
"What say you, brothers? Do you think that my way of war is strange? That I have no true calling as a warrior?"
A Slow murmur of disagreement rumbled around the gathered. One of the Wolf Guard spoke out. "You can fight in many ways lord. What true calling is it you speak of?
Ferric growled deep. "I am the Leader of this company, and yet have never found my true way of war. I have been bested in sword by Ragnar, Stared down, and beaten in will, by Krom, Crushed under the anvil of pure might by Arjac, out-ridden by the skill of Harold, and shown my Limitations of leadership by Grimnar. And yet I still fight for a story in the Saga's. As we lay waste to our enemies on Pyrriah what do you think we have for us here, just another battle? A chance to let our thirst for battle be quenched?
Some looks of confusion went around the Wolf Gaurd, others had looks of battle lust, but one knew what he meant and spoke out.
"No Lord, you will prove today, that you are a master of all the ways of war! As you have made all of us! We are like the sea, our force is ever changing. We erode even the most powerful with our ever changing current of battle. We are the crushing WAVES in the Sea of Stars, under the Leadership of the SEAFANG!"
The Wolf Guard Began to beat their hands against their armor, just as they did with their axes against their shields, as they used to in their fledgling life back on the Ice of Fenris.
Ferric held up his arms and belted "Skitja, we are the Vylake Fenrika! The Wolves of Fenris! We wage our riteous war in the name of RUSS! !And the All Father! We will make our Saga's known to our enemies and allies alike! Our time is now! To show that we are masters of WAR, and that we will meet any foe, and make it an EVEN ground. No enemy shall forget us, even in hell. To War My Brothers! Let us Descend on these villains like the wolves of old!
A blood curdling cry erupted from all of the warriors on the Bridge. "FENRIS HOLDJAAAAA!!!"
Death Watch (Watchmaster Ulysses)
Watchmaster Ulysses stood silently as he gazed at the view port within the confines of his personal quarters. His Kill-Ship, the strike cruiser known as Xenos Lives Splatter, had just exited the immaterium to arrive at its destination known as the Pyrriah system. Ulysses contemplated the upcoming events. Although he did not possess the mastery of the warp that his brothers in the librarium wielded, he knew this latest venture would be his last.
Initial reports received from Imperial forces indicated that the Pyrriah system had become a hot bed of Xenos and Heretical activity. Forces composed of some of the Imperium's greatest heroes were congregating to purge the Pyrriah system of all taint. If there was ever an opportunity to honor the Emperor and forge new legends, it was here and now.
Ulysses' sighed heavily as he begrudgingly reminded himself that his objective here was not to serve the Emperor, but rather the personal greed of this puny upstart of an Inquisitor. Ulysses had served with the honorable Death Watch for nearly three centuries. He had reluctantly cut his ties with his former chapter, The Iron Snakes, when the Ordos Xenos had approached him directly to assume the mantle of Watchmaster. Since that time, Ulysses has forged an almost unparalleled career of Xenos warfare. He had never doubted his position in the Death Watch, or the honor it earned in the eyes of the Emperor....until now.
Requisitioned by Ordos Xenos High Inquisitor Mav Bonner nearly 30 standard years ago, Ulysses and his fellow battle brothers have been seemingly enslaved to the whims of a mad man. System to system, planet to planet; Ulysses and his men served as nothing more than errand boys, retrieving so-called "Xenos Artifacts" to elevate the prestige of one man. Requests for aid from Imperial worlds were ignored. Opportunities to strike at Xenos forces were avoided. Inquisitor Bonner had the noble Death Watch operating in the shadows, using the deaths of millions of imperial citizens to mask his operations from prying eyes.
Now the inquisitor had his malicious sights set on the Pyrriah system. With the launching of the Promethium Crusade, Inquisitor Bonner would no doubt use the distraction to extricate whatever "priceless" artifact he currently desires.
Ulysses would stand for it no longer....Come what may, by the end of this crusade the Inquisitor's throat would be securely wrapped in his armored fingers.
Astra Militarum/Swords of the Empire (Colonel Delores Markus Boer)
Colonel Delores Markus Boer loved vegetables. There was no simpler pleasure to him than seeing something planted, sprout, grow, and sustain. On a planet where military service was revered as the way to escape a life of toil and to travel the stars, dreaming of nothing but agrarian pursuits did not make for an easy childhood among his classmates. Being named for his Grandmother, matriarch of a large family of farmers in the line he had hoped to continue, didn't help. Irony struck in the form of an autothresher and being forced to replace the limb the machine he venerated took, Boer's life was claimed by the only ones authorized to give him an artifical replacement: the Astra Militarum. He was sure half of the thrust that took him into orbit was the angry glares of those behind him who were seen as indispensable in feeding the Emperor's children, envious of the glory he was sure to see.
The campaigns that followed saw Boer rise through the ranks as he fought in the company legends and the forgotten alike. He could not remember the name of the first man that fell beside him, the sum of the soldier's life exsanguinated across Markus' previously spotless uniform, but remembered vividly the following moments as the azure armored hand of Roboute Gulliman threw him forward again into the fray, the Angel of the Emperor's bellowing easily overcoming the cacophony of carnage around him. Where the resurrected primarch began, many prestigious Swords of the Empire followed, dragging Boer through a service record near unmatched in the ranks of his peers. But where the medals of the many spoke to accomplished glory, Delores Markus Boer could at best claim only participation. A farmer at heart, leadership was not a born talent. His talent, instead, was staying alive despite the odds. In an organization that relied on those incapable of command to succumb to the fury of the enemy punishing incompetence or a Commissar punishing cowardice, Boer's knack for knowing when to duck without retreating stymied the status quo, and after continued promotions his rank was built on the backs of those more capable and the men he left on the battlefield as the inexplicable sole survivor.
And so he persisted, witnessing all the abominations the universe had to offer. He had long suspected the command above him knew he didn't belong in the ranks of the elite as his missions became soon became as dangerous as they were eclectic. The moment he started receiving direction from an Inquisitor instead of a General solidified in his mind Boer's place as a puppet, drawing on the authority of his command to allocate forces for missions where he seldom knew the goal. But, he survived. He survived where the recently replaced Primaris Ultramarine Captain didn't, the battle brothers performing litanies of purification three decks below, lamenting the gene seed now in the hands of a Death Guard horror following the now all-to-familiar warp storm as it crackled about the galaxy. Boer survived a suicide raid as his artificial arm was ripped off by an Ork warlord, using the Xenos' moment of triumph as enough time to bring his pistol to bear unexpectedly quelling the resolve of his enemy, claiming the strategic outpost as a critical supply lynchpin for the Imperial forces. Boer survived a hopeless last stand as the Aeldari Wave Serpent overran his squad, grav waves pushing him so deep into the muck it took days to dig himself free, pulled the last few inches by the hand of an Adeptus Astartes which reclaimed the mining colony in the name of the Emperor once again. In the face of each specter of death he remained, ever flexible, taking with gusto each impossible assignment only to find himself inexorably alive. With muted pleasure, Markus knew every battle from which he returned with every ensuing medal he was awarded, it brought him closer to having authority to claim the Office of Protector of his homeworld, to be reunited with his family and to find at least a semblance of the quiet life he yearned for.
Boer thought again of vegetables as the sarcophagus that took the most of his already cramped cabin wheezed, sustaining the motionless contents inside. It was a dim hope he would never again see what was inside once the purpose of his mission became clear. The dead skull mask barely visible behind the frosted glass barely spoke to the unspeakable slaughter the assassin was capable of. Why the Inquisitor did not use the specialized craft which normally delivered these barely human weapons, Boer didn't dare ask. He also didn't concern himself with why it had to be in his quarters rather than any of the innumerable cargo holds of the ship. He also didn't question the necessity of the sheer scale of the weapons of destruction carried in the ship's confines, everything from the most powerful weapons of the Astra Militarum and Adeptus Astartes to the clandestine operative barely held in stasis before him, all capable of destroying creation in a magnitude he had never witnessed. Those that asked questions rarely appreciated the response from the iron handed Inquisition. This mission, like many before it, and as many to come as his life would allow, were simply using him as a figurehead for a much deeper plan. But, figureheads tended to stay alive, and those that stayed alive might once again see the fields they so loved.
The door opened forcefully as the Inquisitor followed so closely as to convince Markus for a brief moment the two were the same. Wordlessly the bloodshot eyes of the Imperial Agent met with Boer's as the latter took the scroll out of former's outstreched hand. The robed figure turned abruptly and left as quickly as he came, allowing Boer to digest the details of the mission he was finally privy to. Boer saw the familiar words describing the untold savagery of the forces of Chaos but stopped abruptly at the name of the system to which he was ferrying damnation: "Pyrriah"
Home.
This wasn't how it was supposed to end.
2nd Concordian Independent Super-Heavy Tank Armoured Regiment
Lord Marshal Katerina Malinenko adjusted her fine leather overgloves as she listened to the briefing. Such luxuries were, of course, rare, in this galaxy of steel and blood, and even her home planet, the Hive World of Concordia, had long lost its native wildlife to the thick clouds of industrial smog and relentless outward march of the shantytowns that expanded from the overcrowded hives. But the Lord Marshal was a member of the Senatus Concordia, a relic of a forgotten age of democracy and progress that now merely was host to an overgrown aristocracy. House Malinenko outright owned one of the hives and all who claimed residence there, and Katerina, the daughter of house's patriarch, Orlov Malinenko, had been brought up in an air of wealth and finery that was tempered only by her visits to her mother after whom she was named: Catherine Lynaris, a convent sister from the nearby shrine world of Provosa. Thus was it that Lord Marshal Malinenko was a child of two worlds: piety, discipline, and determination on Provosa, and intrigue, education, and luxury on Concordia. Her thoughts briefly wandered to her looks, of which she was always aware; the Senatus Concordia was as concerned with appearance as with capability. Her long, brilliantly white overcoat and mantle woven from golden threads added to her leather gloves as symbols of her status, while her exquisite pants and heavy, metal-mesh boots proved both stylish and durable. Her duelling rapier, named Gloriana, hung at her side, opposite the smooth, almost sensual lines of her holstered needle pistol. Her face bore a cybernetic eye, a testament to her influence with the Adeptus Mechanicus and to an injury long-since passed, which whirred softly as her eyes lost focus. Atop her head, cropped fairly short, was the characteristic purple-grey hair of the Provosans, a unique trait of humans born on that planet that had perhaps never been adequately investigated for taint.
A nudge from one of her halberd-wielding druzhina started her back to the present, and while she was groomed and professional enough not to show it, her hesitation in answering the question betrayed her. "Are your tanks capable of this task, Lord Marshal?" repeated the briefing Lieutenant, bowing his head slightly in deference to the powerful regimental commander. Regimental Commanders in the Imperial Guard were universally well-respected, but the commanders of its superheavy tank regiments especially so among their number.
"Yes." came Katerina's reply. She didn't even know what was being asked of her; but she knew her men and vehicles could handle it. Among them, her white coat and stern but fair demeanor had earned her the moniker of "The White Queen", and she could oftentimes seen standing openly on the command deck of the Banehammer Rodina, directing the eight companies of the 2nd Concordian Independent Super Heavy Tank Armoured Regiment (ISHTAR, colloquially known as "Ishtar" after some ancient, forgotten deity) throughout the campaign area. Some men from other regiments often assumed the nickname was derogatory, but when Concordian Baneblades, Stormswords or Stormhammers arrived on the battlefield to support them, weapons thundering with the rage of bellowing gods, most came to understand what was meant. And always, at the end of it all, Lord Marshal Katerina Malinenko and her household bodyguards, retinue, and other hangers-on always disembarked from Rodina to celebrate their victory, and as always, her overcoat remained blindingly bright no matter the dirt or dust of the battlefield.
With that single word answer, the Lieutenant returned to his briefing. Katerina turned her head to her Executive Officer, and smiled. "Major, would you kindly tell the Witch-Priest and Magos Endellion that we will be deploying shortly? Especially the Magos. I want to ensure that each company has support from at least one enginseer before the regiment splits up. I do hate playing the fire-brigade." she murmured, before stepping forwards to examine the holo-map, leather on her gloves crinkling a bit as she curled her fingers, and turned her gaze to the other Regimental Commanders of her battlegroup, focusing on Praefect-Militant Avaernius Scynna from the world of Mojurant, commander of the 11th Mojuran Fusiliers. They had fought with the Concordians since before the Great Rift opened, and while of course those officers were long dead, the two regiments still valued their working relationship. Praefect Scynna's hooded and cowled form nodded subtly at her gaze, the glinting eyes of his chemical rebreather meeting Lord Marshal Malinenko's own. The rough-and-tumble Mojurans came from a world with corrupt air, and though their evolved forms could breathe freely on its surface, they needed rebreathers almost anywhere else. At the thought of the air, Lord Marshal Malinenko took in a deep breath as the Lieutenant droned on and on. She missed the smell of her tanks, but as always, she had to stay at the stuffy briefing, surrounded by her retinue. Appearances, after all, mattered.
Inquisition (Inquisitor Lucrezia, Head of House Borgia, Ordo Malleus)
She stood on the bridge of her family’s flagship vessel malcador’s cunning and looked out at the peaceful world before her. She thought back to when the black ships came to her own world and stole her away from her life of privilege. Was it not for the bribes and threats of a assassination of her father she may have been blinded as an astropath or fed to the golden throne. Instead she was trained as an inquisitor, an agent in the emperors holy ordos.
Her navigator nero was reporting a clean and uneventful warp jump, At least he had the good sense to remain sober before telling her although she imagined he was pouring himself a glass of wine as they spoke. Still in spite of his alcoholism he was the best navigator in the fleet. She’d imagined that if heed had the good since to remain sober longer then a week a rogue trader would have made him a better offer. She called to her vox officer. “tell my personal guard, the kill team and the…….specialists to meet me in the hangar bay. She had to stop herself before she mentioned the gray knights. Although she thought it ridiculous the official position of the Ordos was that the knights of titan did not exist.
She stood before her assembled platoon. The men that made up her personal bodyguard had once been called the black rifles. Known for their exceeding skill in desert warfare they had helped her in purging a heretical cult that had sprung up on a remote world known only as 63:19. The cult had managed to summon a daemon and she needed to seek aid from titan. Once the cult had been purged she offered the men a choice. The emperors peace in the form of a bolter round to the face. Or service in the ordo’s. needless to say the men had chosen to become her personal bodyguard, they hand proven invaluable and had saved her life on many an occasion. she glanced quickly at darrek who was having trouble readying his flamer with his one remaining hand. The grim faced veteran of the Armageddon wars had refused all offers of a prostatic out of some form of misguided martial pride. Still the mans skill with a flamer was amazing and he had put many a heretic to the flame.
The knights of titan stood in grim attention as the death watch kill team strolled in. Leif the lucky, the jovial space wolf of her kill team shouted. I hear my battle brothers are in orbit, any chance I could pop over and say high, I promise I’ll bring you back a bottle of fenrisian ale that will knock you on your…”
“ ill let you play with your friends if there is time” the inquisitor interrupted. “right now we have a job to do.” She cleared her through and began the briefing.
“listen up, we have an important job to do, this world has been overrun by heretical and xenos forces. Furthermore I have found out through my research that this planet may contain a vault from the dark age of technology that has been sealed away since the coming of the emperor. This vault cannot be opened by heretical or xenos forces, I have authorization to destroy it to prevent this from happening. Those of you who paid attention in your history lessons should know that the technology in that vault could turn the tide in this war. Does everyone understand.” The gray knights simply nodded well the black rifles replied with a quick “ yes mam” the deathwatch marines agreed with the exeption of the iron hand who objected “a vault from the dark age of technology would be invaluable to the macanicam destroying it would be a blasphemy against the machine god.” “I will not be the inquisitor that gave the men of iron to the ruinous powers” she replied. At the mention of the mythical men of iron who had almost destroyed humanity before the coming of the emperor the iron hand was silenced. “Now if nobody has any more interruptions I will lead us in a prayer”
Ultramarines 2-B (to be provided)....