The Reaper's Hammer Crusade: Upholding the First Born Vow

[SWORD BROTHER RYAN]

+++ FLUFF ALERT +++

Hive Madrigal

Command Spire Conference Room

 

The Sun rose over the spire top no longer it's almost terran white yellow as normal. The purple tint of the warp storm the Keeltonian System was embroiled within cast the brightening skyline in dirty shades of brown, as if the smog layer had reached all the way into the stars. The wan light now shining on the hive city only served to make the mortals who had the opportunity to witness the phenomena first hand begin to edge closer to panic. Even the Chapter serfs were feeling the bite of fear. Every Astartes could smell the sharp tang in every breath they took or the sweat on their skin. Two whole families of Spireborn had already thrown themselves from their terraces in the night, plummeting to the depths rather than face the torn sky. The loyalist PDF forces under Governor Haldread had instated a curfew during the night for all noncombatant people to remain indoors during darkness, but it came too little, too late for many of the populace. Madness had begun to worm through the nobles and Administratum seniors, resulting in murders, suicides, and rioting in the streets.

 

With the dawn of the day, however, a grim mood settled over the hive. The people became lethargic, shuffling with heads bowed to their destinations. Even those without a view of the exterior of the hive were sullen and withdrawn from one another.

 

To this point, however, the Space Marines of both the Black Templars and the Ultramarines seemed immune to the negative effects outwardly. Their mental indoctrinations and training allowed them to push through the effects the storm overhead was having on the unaugmented populace, but in quiet whispers to trusted brothers, even they would admit to the strain they felt gnawing at the edges of the minds. 

 

The only good news was that the effect of the storm seemed to be afflicting the traitors as well. Almost all fighting across the hive had ceased, the forces of DelNorte withdrawing to the underhive to boltholes that the combined Chapters had yet to assault. Overnight, it seemed as if a pall of quiet had radiated from the void and cast it's shadow across the world.

 

Marshal Eidrich summoned the entirety of his force command to the tower in the lull, urging Victorian to do the same. Neither commander knew how long this period of passivity by the enemy would last, and consolidating their recent gains would need to be prioritized.

 

His office too small for the gathering of the War Council, Eidrich cleared a conference room of the command spire to gather the commanders. Victorian brought Techmarine Vanon, a chaplain who went by the name of Lysane, Angorian and other senior sergeants, a Contemptor Dreadnaught named Damoclese, and his new chief Librarian Aethion, all in all, seventeen marines. Eidrich brought Venerable Cread, his Sword Bretheren, Chaplian Rusius, his most senior Techmarine, Emperor's Champion Malovich, Castellan Vanstint in temporary command of the Reaper's Hammer, and Sword Brother Orision.

 

This last addition to the knight's commanders was in recognition of his steadfast refusal to be swayed in the light of the Ultramarine's truth being presented to them. Orision had not even so much as paused in his duty to provide fire support to the combined forces, and was instrumental in repelling and destroying several armor pieces. It was well past time that his position was given the recognition it deserved, although the room with two Dreadnaughts and his Centurion Devastator armor seemed almost filled with their combined bulk alone.

 

Haldread attended with a five man cadre of his senior officers. A contingent of what the Ultramarines kept calling Imperial Army, despite frequent reminders otherwise, consisted of fifteen men and women in the dark grey combat fatigues without their navy blue flak armor. Rounding out the mortal members of the hastily assembled group were Inquisitor Silibas and his Execution Force, who took the center of the space for the moment.

 

'As I stated briefly last night,' Silibas began in heavily accented low gothic, 'My force went into the underhive in order to track and kill General DelNorte. Our secondary objective was to halt the ritual, once it became apparent what the traitors were doing. Isinder, if you would?'

 

The inquisitor took a half a step back as the Culexus Assassin stepped forward. The mortals in the meeting all shied away from directly looking at the assassin, and the Ultramarine Librarian looked as if he were ready to charge the Pariah or attempt to burrow into the wall in order to put more distance between them.

 

'I managed to get close enough to the ritual site to see what was being done,' Isinder began, his voice sounding flat but youthful, 'But my abilities were not enough to halt it by the time I arrived. The Bloodthirster sensed my presence and attacked immediately. Between defending myself and attempting retreat, I saw the ending of the ritual. A mass sacrifice through suicide opened a warp portal and began immediately spewing the Neverborn through the rip.'

 

'The daemons?' Victorian questioned, 'Warp entities?'

 

'Yes,' Silibas spoke before Isinder could answer, 'Call them what you will. It boils down to the same thing.'

 

Isinder stepped back, allowing Rectule to step forward.

 

'Captain, you may or may not be pleased to know that the remaining traitor Ultramarines were killed in the operation.' Rectule had removed his spy mask, and his narrow face and dark eyes held the Astartes warrior without apparent fear.

 

'You had help, sniper!' barked the Eversor, fidgeting as he attempted to stand still.

 

'Yes,' Rectule replied with a quick glance at the still skull helmed assassin, 'The remaining six traitor Astartes were put down, but we were all unable to reach DelNorte. Ynar got close,' he indicated the Callidus, 'But they somehow retain the ability to sniff her out.'

 

'The point is,' Silibas began again as Rectule stepped back, 'This situation will only get worse the longer that portal remains open. As a member of the Ordo Hereticus, I have some knowledge of these portals,' he hung his head a moment, then looked around the gathered assembly, 'But I have no knowledge of how to close one. That is where we find ourselves.'

 

'You claim to know of these portals,' the Contemptor Damoclese took a booming step forward as his vocalizer intoned, 'But not how to close them. How is this? Is it not a portion of your duties, Inquisitor?'

 

'Mine? No,' Silibas replied gently, 'Other ordo's deal with warp entities. I deal mostly with their mortal worshipers.'

 

'Other ordo's?' Victorian seemed incredulous that there were more departments within the Inquisition.

 

'We don't specialize in everything, Captain!' Silibas snapped in reply.

 

'Can we not simply just bomb the gate from orbit, sir?' one of the "Imperial Army" leaders asked, cutting off any further escalation of words between the two.

 

'Not only is that not possible,' the Inquisitor replied, turning away from the Astartes, 'It could make the whole situation much worse. With the warp storm overhead, it very possibly could tear the portal open wider.'

 

'So,' Baledian interjected, 'Where do we strike next?'

 

'There is no point in throwing our strength at a wall we cannot breach,' Victorian responded, 'I would offer the suggestion that we consolidate our recent gains and better prepare for the counter offensive that comes next.'

 

Cread's vocalizer emitted a growl at this, but he said no more.

 

'Is the blue Astartes a coward?' the Eversor growled.

 

'I require you to share everything you know about these "gates" with my librarians.' Victorian did an admirable job of ignoring the Eversor's barb, 'We may be able to find a way to close it with your knowledge, limited as it is.'

 

'That just leaves fighting our way into the underhive to get to it.' Eidrich finally spoke.

 

'Agreed.' Victorian replied simply, 'We grind the enemy down piecemeal and whittle away at their strengths that remain. Theoretical: DelNorte and his followers are in as much disarray as the rest of the mortals. They are having the same problems within their ranks as we are with our serfs and mortal soldiery. They also do not have the discipline required to hold as our forces do. We might be best served hitting targets of opportunity as frequently as possible. Practical: we must secure our newly acquired lines against retaliatory attacks as well as the disorganized mobs that have been cropping up all over the hive.'

 

'What do you propose?' Silibas asked.

 

'Use the Guard to secure and hold fixed positions.' Eidrich began, 'Then we free up the Chapters for reconnaissance and combat patrols to probe deeper into the hive. You know where the rift is, we have the strength to get there. Depending on how much of a fighting force remains to DelNorte, and whatever is coming through the gate, we will find a path to push an all out assault through in a few days. My knights have faced these things before. We will crush them.' 

 

'I like that one...' the Eversor mumbled. Several of the Militarum officers began to try to put more distance between themselves and the rage killer in their midst.

 

'So,' Silibas looked between Eidrich and Victorian, 'I am using my authority to commandeer the Militarum troops and equipment on the surface, to include your own attached mortal contingents, Captain Victorian.' Victorian bristled at this, but held his tongue. The mortal officers began to mutter their discontent until the Eversor glared at them through the lenses of his dirty helm and cracked his knuckles loudly. 'But I cannot order the Marines. As you have the larger force, in most cases, you would take overall field command of Astartes forces in the system. However, Marshal Eidrich has led this endeavor since both Chapters began fighting the Tyranids in system. Which of you is assuming command?'

 

'I have no choice other than to cede command to the Marshal.' Victorian said after a moment of consideration. 'My Astartes have not the requisite experience in fighting this type of warp entity, and only slightly more the worshipful of them. If what you say is true, Inquisitor, I relinquish any right of command in the light of my counterpart's experience in these matters.'

 

Eidrich hoped he covered his surprise at the Captain's words, and nodded his head at Victorian.

 

'Then the plan stands as I have already stated.' Eidrich stood, looking at the assembled officers and Astartes, 'We begin patrols immediately.'

[SWORD BROTHER RYAN]

HAPPY SWORD BROTHER NOISES!!!!! My wife finally let me buy the single largest item EVER! WARLORD TITAN INBOUND!!!!  

[Marshal Laeroth]

You knew I was looking at your thread for updates earlier this morning, didn't you? Sounds like the Titan needs to be added to the story telling!

[SWORD BROTHER RYAN]

Warlord titan from FW... it's gonna be some time before it gets built, but it WILL be in there!

[SWORD BROTHER RYAN]

Okay, HUGE PROBLEM! I ordered the wrong arms, as the arms of the Warlord Titan are now OOP. What do I do now?

[Marshal Reinhard]

wrong arms? did you order non warlord arms? How did you manage to order something that's OOP to begin with? was it still orderable on the site?

 

At any rate, how long ago since the order? Contact Forgeworld customersupport asap to try and get it sorted.

[SWORD BROTHER RYAN]

I've written FW, awaiting a reply. I bought the body and carapace weapons for a Warlord a few days ago when they were still available on the site, but I didn't realize I bought the volcano cannons for a Warbringer or Reaver. I got in touch with the Warhammer Citadel store in TX, and they have a couple of the weapons I will need, and I have them paid for, but I have to go down there next weekend to get them myself. Looks like I'm in for a road trip.

[SWORD BROTHER RYAN]

wrong arms? did you order non warlord arms? How did you manage to order something that's OOP to begin with? was it still orderable on the site?

 

At any rate, how long ago since the order? Contact Forgeworld customersupport asap to try and get it sorted.

When I bought the Warlord, I was only able to buy the body and top laser blasters. I had to order the Mars-pattern Beta head from a guy on eBay, and see above for the explanation of the debacle on the weapon arms. AFTER I ordered, the body went OOP as well, but the order went through.

 

This order was placed on Wednesday.

Edited August 7, 2021 by SWORD BROTHER RYAN

[Marshal Reinhard]

 

wrong arms? did you order non warlord arms? How did you manage to order something that's OOP to begin with? was it still orderable on the site?

 

At any rate, how long ago since the order? Contact Forgeworld customersupport asap to try and get it sorted.

When I bought the Warlord, I was only able to buy the body and top laser blasters. I had to order the Mars-pattern Beta head from a guy on eBay, and see above for the explanation of the debacle on the weapon arms. AFTER I ordered, the body went OOP as well, but the order went through.

 

This order was placed on Wednesday.

 

huh, I guess it's on account of being in a different region, but I don't see anything listed as OOP. But, with a model this big I figured they were made to order? Regardless, crossing my fingers it'll work out, shouldn't be too much of a problem.

[SWORD BROTHER RYAN]

 

 

wrong arms? did you order non warlord arms? How did you manage to order something that's OOP to begin with? was it still orderable on the site?

 

At any rate, how long ago since the order? Contact Forgeworld customersupport asap to try and get it sorted.

When I bought the Warlord, I was only able to buy the body and top laser blasters. I had to order the Mars-pattern Beta head from a guy on eBay, and see above for the explanation of the debacle on the weapon arms. AFTER I ordered, the body went OOP as well, but the order went through.

 

This order was placed on Wednesday.

 

huh, I guess it's on account of being in a different region, but I don't see anything listed as OOP. But, with a model this big I figured they were made to order? Regardless, crossing my fingers it'll work out, shouldn't be too much of a problem.

 

Not quite sure where you are, but on the site, almost everything is listed as SOLD OUT here.

[SWORD BROTHER RYAN]

Well, IRL was  today, but all is not unwell. I have just received the BETA pattern Warlord head!

[SWORD BROTHER RYAN]

Tomorrow marks my LONG trek into Texas for a set of toy arms...

 

I think I put too much effort into this hobby!

[Urkh]

Zeal is its own excuse.

[SWORD BROTHER RYAN]

Tomorrow marks my LONG trek into Texas for a set of toy arms...

 

I think I put too much effort into this hobby!

Amendment:

 

Tomorrow (today as I write this), I Crusade into the lands of Texas to face down a Citadel of reportedly epic proportions and acquire much needed Mechanicus STC parts in order to add the awesome might of a Warlord Titan to the already considerable forces of the Reaper's Hammer Crusade.

 

(I also just found out that the rest of the build will be here on Monday, so just in time!)

[SWORD BROTHER RYAN]

Well, the store has been closed all weekend! Still waiting!!!

[Brother Christopher]

Oh, man. This appears to be a true crusade. Buying a resin robot premium luxury product really shouldn't look this way, with this much effort on the customer's part. Best wishes and unwavering resolve, brother!

[SWORD BROTHER RYAN]

Oh, man. This appears to be a true crusade. Buying a resin robot premium luxury product really shouldn't look this way, with this much effort on the customer's part. Best wishes and unwavering resolve, brother!

Zeal grows alongside my frustration!

[SWORD BROTHER RYAN]

Okay, I have the arms in hand (or hands, due to their size), and made it home. Waiting on my doorstep when I arrived is the most massive of boxes with the components for the rest of the Warlord build. So, should I post updates of the build here, or should I move it over to the Titanicus forum?

[Marshal Reinhard]

Why not both.jpg

 

I'm sure they would love to see it over there as well

[SWORD BROTHER RYAN]

Let me describe my travails over the past few days in a more BT epic way...

 

213.021.M3

 

I set off from the Chapter Keep in a cramped ground car (Mustang) alongside an Ultramarine (my son), an Adeptus Sororitas Grand Matriarch (my wife), and a novitiate Calladus Assassin (my youngest), and made our way through the agri belt of Merica into the land of Texas. Arriving after sunset, we set up base camp (got a hotel) and made our plans to storm the forge (Warhammer Citadel & Café). It was decided that we would take a moment to scout the terrain through the eyes of simple travelers before we began our assault.

 

214.021.M3

 

The day began with a trip to better view the area via an aquatic route. The Grand Matriarch secured a transport and driver (hired pontoon boat). As we arrived, it was quickly discovered that we had not properly provisioned for the journey. I took to the transport and made my way to the local commissary (convenience store), and acquired beverages and sustenance. Attempting a speedy return, my route cogitator (cell phone navigation) lost the coordinates for a proper return, delaying my joining the rest of the team for 45 minutes as I was led in circles. Upon my return, we set off and began our scouting mission (boat trip). Almost immediately, the weather turned on us and we were soaked completely through our traveling attire. The Matriarch actually almost went overboard and required brief field dressing of a foot wound, setting the timetable back for our eventual invasion of the forge.

 

Once back on solid ground, we regrouped at base camp and then charged forward to the forge, only to find that the gates were completely barred to us (store closed early. We laid siege (tried to see if anyone was inside), but this day would not see us breach the gate.

 

215.021.M3

 

Upon awakening, I attempted several vox hails to the forge (called them repeatedly) to demand that they surrender or face the wrath of the Crusade. Either through fear or arrogance, the hails were not received (nobody picked up). With the team and righteous ZEAL on my side, we once again laid siege to the forge, only to find the gates barred to us still (closed for a second day). With mounting anger, we decided to wait one more day before we attacked again and instead took the opportunity to perform some physical training on an aquatic obstacle course (went to a floating water park), leaving the Ultramarine behind to ponder the theocraticals and practicals and consult his precious codex for guidance (play on his phone and sleep). 

 

216.021.M3

 

We broke down base camp and once again took to the storming of the forge. Finally, the gates gave before us (the store was finally open) and we shouted our victory as we acquired the Warlord Titan Sunfury Plasma Annihilator and Macro Gatling Blaster STC's from the frightened Tech Priests (bought my toy arms from the clerks). The Matriarch sermonized with fury over their daring to bar us from the forge (wife complained), and the Tech Priests cowered before her, offering refreshments to appease team (they gave us free drinks). After intense scrutiny of the STC's (unboxed and verified all the pieces were there), I made ready to leave, but the Ultramarine was not yet finished venting his wrath upon the forge (still shopping), and forced the Tech Priests to hand over the STC for a Thunderhawk Gunship (he bought a toy too).

 

Our Crusade drawn to conclusion, we packed back into the ground car and returned to the Chapter Keep. Upon arrival, the Forge World of The Kingdom United (FW) finally delivered on it's promise of the STC's for the Titan body and Laser Blasters.

 

Now the Techmarines and servitors begin their chantings and blessings to the Ommnisiah, waving the incense and holy oils, and beseech the Machine God to impart a particularly belligerent machine spirit into this new creation! (I start building soon)

[SWORD BROTHER RYAN]

+++ FLUFF (INTERLUDE)+++

 

Somewhere in the warp...

 

The Techpriests believe it to be asleep, but that is not quite true. A Titan as old and seasoned as Tormento Rex never truly slept. Long periods of dormancy were expected for it at this point. Tormento Rex was used to it by now. Some called it by either a masculine or feminine prefix, but neither were really appropriate. It couldn't be either. Tormento Rex simply was, and had been for nearly 10,000 years.

 

It was an army killer. It's cannons spoke over thousands of worlds. It's warhorn blared in both triumph and defeat. It had dealt catastrophic damage to others of similar constructs, but none were able to do more than wound it in return. Tormento Rex had been wounded so many times since it's creation that barely anything was left of it's original structure but it's reactor and spirit. 

 

It was wounded now. 

 

Tormento Rex felt the wounds: knee joint, waist, and armor cracked in so many places it felt as if it all was. Most of it's lacquered layers of paint were scorched away in blazing fire. It's banners had burned, taking away the announcement to worlds of it's many kills and victories.

 

They would be repaired, resewn, repainted, as always. All that mattered to Tormento Rex was the kill. Let the techpriests believe it slumbers. Let them believe it dreamt. Even the princeps, so closely bonded to the machine, did not understand fully. While dormant and being repaired, it replayed it's greatest victories, all the way back to it's initial activation at the ending of what was referred to as The Scouring.

 

The forge world Voss had manufactured it. They gave it a name, loosely translated into Low Gothic as "The Cannon King", Tormento Rex was subdued by it's first princeps after nine others had failed. The techpriests said it was wild, but that was not truly the case. It had never been paired before, and did not know why these invasive minds kept trying to force it do do their bidding. It knew what it was in an off-hand way. A Titan they said, Warlord designation, Legio Invigilata, a still newly crafted Legio with only the deeds of something called The Siege of Terra to it's name at the time. By the ninth attempt to subdue Tormento Rex, it had decided to allow the union not out of defeat by the smaller mind, but curiosity as to what would happen if it allowed this person named Princeps Tilda Marxdam to guide it.

 

It had been glorious. It's first engagement had seen it destroy four Warhounds, a Reaver, and take part in the destruction of a dreaded Imperetor of Legio Mortis. It took pain for the first time, nearly losing all of it's void shields in the last engagement, but by then it had become addicted to the thrill of the kill. Unbroken, it blared it's warhorn loudly in triumph as the last Titan fell. Reactor death, engine kill. It then turned it's massive weapons on the tiny figures swarming the battlefield. Sons of Horus they were called, but it was of no concern to Tormento Rex. The puny and small creatures died in droves as it's cannons spoke at them.

 

The world burned as it strode in victory. The next did as well. It walked in victory for six deployments before serious damage nearly shattered it's entire form. Tanks, so many of them that they covered the horizon from end to end nearly destroyed it. Princeps Marxdam barely vented the excess plasma before she became subsumed by Tormento Rex's spirit. Tilda Marxdam became a part of the spirit.

 

It would be years before Tormento Rex would walk again. When it did, it was under a different crew, and a new mind in control. Princeps Marcus Belet. He led Tromento Rex through sixteen engagements, four of them in Legio defeat, before he lost himself to the machine as well.

 

So many had come and gone. Victories, defeats, damages, repairs. Tormento Rex weathered it all. Always recovered, always ready now. Tormento Rex woke easily. It accepted only the most belligerent minded Princeps, willing to give all for the fight, all for the kill. It's current Princeps, a man named Viktor Malasva, had led it for fourteen years. The signs of stress were showing on him and the moderati, but he still had an iron will and kept looking to the next fight.

 

This latest victory had hurt. The strikes that had gotten through the failing void shielding practically immobilized it. Malasva had never stopped firing, even as the rotary blaster went dry, the sunfury drooled coolant in a steady stream and the laser blasters cycled fire at half the power. Tormento Rex would not have survived were it not for the intervention of the smaller knight constructs that kept the ork from swarming it's legs and doing potentially catastrophic damage. The techpriests made a compact with the Knights of House Hawkshroud. After the rescue, one of their number now sported the Legio device on it's own carapice to announce the bond between the house and the Legio. They had hauled the wounded Titan onto their Imperial Navy transport and allowed the surviving techpriests to utilize their facilities to affect repairs.

 

Princeps Malasva stayed with the Tormento Rex, lending his hands to the ongoing repairs to the detriment of his own rest cycles.

 

But something had changed. Even dormant, Tormento Rex could feel it like the damage being repaired. Travel was compromised. Without external links engaged, it could not know why. Instead, it waited, it remembered, and it prepared for the next time it walked.

Edited September 12, 2021 by SWORD BROTHER RYAN

[SWORD BROTHER RYAN]

+++ FLUFF ALERT +++

Hive Madrigal

Icarus Prime

 

              Malovich, Emperor’s Champion of the Reaper’s Hammer Crusade, strode solemnly from the strategy meeting. His mind reeled with the implications of their Ultramarines allies origins, and he felt his spirit in turmoil. Outwardly, he looked collected and purposeful as he strode along the narrow avenue away from the makeshift command center. His pace was measured and unhurried, but he felt out of sorts.

 

              His steps took him towards the blasted temple a kilometer due south. The fading dingy light filtered through the warp storm raging in the heavens served to dimly illuminate the fractured façade of the crumbling structure. The entrance arch and street facing wall still stood to delineate it’s small footprint from the street, but what were once proud statues of stoic guardians and effigies of the God-Emperor lay as nothing more than cracked and pulverized detritus piled unceremoniously during their initial destruction. The traitors had thoroughly demolished nearly every shrine, temple, and church within the hive during the initial uprising before the Crusade had reclaimed the uppermost reaches.

 

              It saddened him to see how far the extent of their treachery went. The light of the Imperial Creed had been dealt a vicious blow, but could not be so easily put into darkness. As long as a single one of his battle brothers drew breath on this bucolic planet, the light would be carried with them.

 

              Then the memory of his ascension to the post of Emperor’s Champion came to him again, and he knew with conviction not born within his own mind that his time was coming.

 

              On a surface level, he knew he should seek out Chaplain Rusius, confess his misgivings and have his soul purged of it’s doubts, but on another deeper level, he required a brief moment of solitude. Most of the rest of the Crusade had taken to massing in the larger confines of the temple nearer the command center, leaving this small chapel mostly vacant. It suited his purposes when he felt the need for seclusion.

 

              As he passed through the doorless arch, the extent of interior damage became more readily apparent. Most of the roof had been blown out with explosives, leaving gaping holes for the chill winds to howl through. Cross beams that once held the ceiling were burned through, leaving the remainder to look like the jagged mismatched teeth of some mythic beast casting their shadows down onto the cracked marble floor. Alcoves that had once probably housed some form of local relics or the remains of clergymen now stood vacant, dark smudges in some indicating that they were burned in place. Wooden pews that lined either side of the central walk were smashed into pieces, some having been put to the torch as well. A marble alter at the front lay in rubble, the largest pieces remaining no bigger than his gauntleted fist. A massive grey granite Imperial Aquilla had once hung suspended behind it, but had been cut down and now lay in large sections on the floor.

 

              The Aquilla was the only thing he had disturbed within the chapel. On his first non-combat visit to the chapel, he had cleared away enough of the rubble to drag the broken pieces back together and lay them out on the floor behind the broken altar. The rest of the debris still lay as he had first found it. Every now and again, he could tell from something else moved within that others had come to this place. What they sought in the debris would be forever unknown to him, but when he was within, he was not disturbed by the populace of the hive. They had an instinctual knowledge to leave him to his prayers.

 

              Once he stood at the feet of the Aquilla, Malovich removed his wreathed helm, mag-locking it at his waist. He then drew his black sword and in one fluid motion stabbed the tip downward into a worn mark in the stone. It was an act done many times since he had begun to come and pray here, and the tip found the groove easily, the blade making only the slightest scraping sound as it settled into the notch repetition had created. He knelt behind the sword, head bowed almost to the point where his forehead was touching the cross guard, and began his litanies of fury whispered to the blade and the Aquilla.

 

              On the fourth repetition, he heard heavy booted steps in the street behind him. Even in his observance, his mind distinguished the tread of a power armored individual making their way to the archway. He completed the litany and stood as he heard the person enter, footfalls pulverizing debris before he came to a halt halfway down the isle. Malovich placed his hand around the grip of his sword, but left it imbedded in the stone as he half turned his body to the newcomer.

 

              Suprisingly, it was not one of his Templar Brethren that stood in the dim light of the chapel, but one of the Ultramarines. Angorian stood nearly motionless ten paces away. He went unhelmed, the helmet mag-locked to his waist like his own. His gladius and bolt pistol were strapped at his waist, and his arms hung limply at his sides. It was only his face that betrayed a mixture of anger and confusion as he stared at The Emperor’s Champion.

 

              ‘Why?’ Angorian asked, almost as a whisper.

 

              ‘Explain.’ Malovich stated flatly.

 

              Angorian swept his arms out slowly, indicating the entire chapel in the motion, ‘Why? What makes you worship the Emperor as a God?’

 

              Malovich was slightly taken aback by the question. ‘Because He is.’ was all he could reply.

 

              ‘But He decried any attempt to be seen as anything other than a man!’ Angorian pleaded, letting his arms fall back to his sides, ‘He denounced all religion! He shattered the remains of all of them during the Great Crusade! How did all that effort come to be... this?’

 

              Malovich gently pulled his sword from the groove in the flooring and turned fully toward Angorian. ‘The Lectitio Divinitatus teaches that He denounced all false religion and His own divinity as a test for the faithful. One must see past the words to see the truth.’

 

              ‘Lectitio Divinitatus?’ shock was apparent in Angorians features, ‘The proscribed work of Lorgar?’

 

              The tip of the Black Sword suddenly came up between the two of them as Malovich took a step forward, crushing more of the altar’s remains in the process, ‘Do not speak that Heretic’s name!’

 

              ‘But it is the truth!’ Angorian roared back, hands balling into fists ‘I stood in the dust of Monarchia as the Emperor sanctioned the entire Word Bearers Legion for their faith! I saw the Emperor do it!’

 

              The sword in Malovich’s hand began to slowly dip toward the floor. ‘You saw...’ he involuntarily stammered, ‘Him?’

 

              ‘He was but a man,’ Angorian slowly unclenched his fists, ‘We were ordered to burn Lorgar’s “Perfect City” from orbit. The entire city was but ashes by the time the Word Bearers arrived. The Emperor came Himself and made the whole of the legion kneel in their shame before him. He called their religious faith a failure, and all of their acts up to that point without worth. We got lost in immaterial storms and come out to find that same faith rooted into the bedrock of the Imperium. How could this have happened?’

 

              Malovich felt the sword tip come to a rest on the floor, his mind working to find an answer. ‘I am not one who can easily answer your questions.’ he finally replied, ‘Perhaps you should seek out Chaplain Rusius.’

 

              ‘I would have the words of an honest warrior over those of the dogmatic.’ Angorian almost sounded pleading again, ’ Why do you worship Him?’

 

              ‘Because I know.’ Malovich stated with total conviction.

 

              ‘How?’ a tone of incredulity crept into the return question.

 

              ‘He has made me see.’

 

              Angorian’s stare asked the question without having to give it voice.

 

              ‘Two standard years ago, while deep in our pre-battle prayer, I was given a vision of future events,’ Malovich picked the sword point up from the floor and turned it’s dark blade across his body, ‘A black blade, this black blade, was in my hands. Before me, two immaterial beasts in a corridor I did not know. The lesser of them shone with a slight golden radiance, and I knew this to be the target of my wrath. I struck at it with all my might, and it fell screaming back to it’s unworldly domain. My brethren were at my back as I turned on the next foe, and I dealt it one mighty blow after another until it slashed at me with an unholy axe. As I lay dying of the wound, my brothers laid it low, my death spurring them to the heights of fury needed to end the creature. As I came out of the vision, I found myself in the ship’s Reclusium, and recounted my vision to the chaplaincy. After days of interrigation and testing for witchery, it was deemed to be a true vision from the God-Emperor Himself. He reached out to me and showed me the enemy I must face one day. I have carried the title of His Champion ever since.’

 

              A look of utter disbelief crossed Angorian’s face and he remained silent for several moments before asking, ‘What if your vision was wrong? I knew of several Librarians whom have spoken of seeing visions of futures that did not come to pass.’

 

              ‘Because the second of the beasts, the one that will eventually kill me, is here, now.’

 

              Angorian’s eyes widened, struck speechless by the statement.

 

              Malovich sheathed his sword and fastened his helmet back onto his head.

 

              ‘Guard your soul from this foulness Ultramarine,’ his helm speaker growled out his words loudly as he strode past him out into the street, ‘and the God-Emperor will protect.’

[Bjorn Firewalker]

Great story! Did

the Emperor's Champion execute

Angorian, or was the Ultramarine allowed to live, and meditate on how the Emperor and His Imperium changed since Cawl put Angorian in stasis for the Primaris project?

[SWORD BROTHER RYAN]

+++FLUFF ALERT+++

Hive Madrigal

Icarus Prime

Keeltonian System

 

The Stromraven was loaded, a full complement of Crusaders and Venerable Cread acting as a quick reaction force for the patrols still ongoing. It had been weeks since the dire news from from the Inquisitor, but as yet, nothing of any import had occurred. A few traitor skirmishes in the lower hive, easily repulsed.

 

Marshal Eidrich was growing impatient, and that impatience was beginning to spread to the rest of the Crusade. Weeks without any indication of the enemy using the supposed warp breach. Weeks sitting idle in a holding action, keeping the treasonous PDF and civilian militias penned into the underhive.

 

He was becoming restless, he knew it, but more and more, he found that he didn’t care.

 

‘We need to take the fight to them,’ he said again as he stalked the command center past Victorian and Inquisitor Sibilus.

 

‘Peace, brother,’ Victorian tried once again to counsel.

 

‘There is no peace!’ Eidrich almost roared, ‘We have sat idle for too long, allowed the enemies of the Imperium to dig in and reorganize! They will be much harder to root out!’

 

‘We have no idea what we would be walking into!’ Victorian shouted back as he stood, coming face to face with Eidrich.

 

‘A lot more than we would have had we continued the campaign!’ Eidrich growled in his face.

 

‘You agreed to this action, now you chafe at it like a hound on a leash, ’Victorian refused to back down, growling in return, ‘We must stay the course, until we know better what we face.’

 

‘He is correct, Marshal,’ Sibilas interjected, ‘This was the course of action you agreed upon. It’s too late to second-guess it now.’

 

‘Speak again, Inquisitor,’ Eidrich turned his head fractionally, ‘And you will see my wrath upon you.’

 

‘You’d dare threaten a representative of the Holy Inquisition?’ Sibilas spoke incredulously, ‘You should watch your toungue Astartes.’

 

‘It is no threat. It is a warning.’

 

A flurry of activity at one of the monitoring stations drew the attention of all three, stilling the escalating argument. Eidrich was the first to stomp across the command center to the serf’s station. She acknowledged the Marshal with a curt nod, speaking quickly into the long range vox pickup.

 

‘UM72, please confirm enemy?’ she calmly requested.

 

The vox crackled, heavy fighting evident in the background. Inhuman roars could be discerned, a clashing of blades, and barking growls behind the Ultramarine sergeant's straining voice. ‘Contact with unknown enemy, similar in nature to the warp beast previously identified!’ he barked over the vox, ‘Unable to accurately describe nature! Creatures do not conform to known xenos breeds! We’re sustaining heavy casualties!’

 

‘Give me a location!’ Eidrich demanded.

 

’62.895 by 37.422, level 2, lower hive,’ the serf blurted out quickly.

 

Eidrich opened his personal vox link to the waiting Stormraven, ‘Contact, level 2, transmitting coordinates now. Immediate take-off!’

 

‘Acknowledge immediate take-off,’ Pilot Berenen responded, ‘All personnel aboard. Receiving coordinates. Execute take-off.’

 

Eidrich still fumed, but not at his compatriots any longer.

 

The enemy had finally come.

 

*              *              *

 

Azahim checked for what felt like the hundredth time that his pistol was loaded and chainsword fully ready. He knew what he was flying toward, and he knew his squad was ready. Marshal Eidrich had hand picked him and these brothers for QRF. At first, it had seemed a dishonor, to wait instead of actively patrol for the enemy, but all those thoughts were gone now. Each brother in his squad, as well as their Neophytes, had withdrawn into their own prayers as the Stormraven plummeted toward the lower hive.

 

‘Estimated drop site dispersal, 30 seconds.’ Brother Berenen voxed back to the waiting squad.

 

‘Acknowledged,’ was Azahim’s terse reply.

 

‘In the God-Emperor’s name, kill them all, Honored Sword Brother.’ Berenen replied before he began his countdown.

 

Restraint harnesses snapped back even as the Stormraven continued it’s suicidal descent. Then the jolt of the retro thrusters hammered at the hull, bleeding off speed until the craft hovered over the combat zone a few meters from the ground. Both front and rear facing hatched slammed down, and the winch carrying Venerable Cread payed out quickly to slam his splayed feet on the rockcrete. The whole squad jumped out...

 

And quickly found themselves inside the nightmares of mortal men for thousands of years.

 

Red beasts with blades charged the few remaining Ultramarines, baying in inhuman tongues. Bulbous headed and horned things from the oldest legends of hell. Huge rampaging steeds covered in blackened bronze armor carried more of the daemons into the fray, trampling the dead underfoot as they went. Slavering canine-like creatures howled like berserk wolves, flaps of skin stretching away behind their snarling faces. A massive construct of brass and bone trundled behind, ridden by yet more sword wielding daemons, hurled what looked like flaming skulls out of an immense maw of fire and brimstone taken into the rough shape of a crude cannon.

 

Worst of all, though, was the beast. The great red, howling monstrosity that had plagued the combined force for months.

 

The Ultramarines were trying to fall back desperately, but the creatures kept swarming their line. A contemptor dreadnaught took a massive fusillade from the cannon, knocking it back several steps. Of the patrol, there were only five left standing. They could not stand for much longer.

 

No order to charge was given, none needed to be. Sword Brother Azahim, his nine Crusaders, two Neophytes, and Venerable Cread all dove into the battle with the praises of the God Emperor on their lips, swords raised high, and bolt pistols flaring. Venerable Cread shot a focused burst of his multimelta at the great beast while the Crusaders focused their fire on the lesser daemons.

 

They met the enemy as multiple daemons charged the last Ultramarines. Swords blackened by heat clove into ceramite armor, rending the flesh beneath. Chainswords howled in return strokes, chewing into the snarling monsters. Many of the enemy fell, discorperating beneath the feet of those who tore them down, but it wasn’t enough. As the mounted daemons added their might to the charge, the last of the patrol fell beneath thundering hooves.

 

Azahim slew and slew, fighting as if viewed by the God-Emperor Himself. He saw his brothers dying one by one, his squad being inexorably pushed back.

 

‘Marshal,’ Azahim voxed as calmly as he could, ‘Patrol UM72 destroyed. Warp beasts in the field.’ he swallwoed hard, for his next words tried to stick in his throat, ‘We cannot hold. Orders?’

 

*              *              *

 

Eidrich wanted to punch something or someone. He wanted to vent his rage. He wanted to order Azahim to hold no matter what...

 

But the cold reality would not alter even if he did. With great effort, he pushed his aggression to the side.

 

‘Fall back to the Stormraven,’ he ordered, his teeth grinding, ‘Get out of there.’

 

Victorian stood off to one side, his head hung in mourning for his lost brothers. Inquisitor Silibas sat a few meters away, an unreadable expression on his face. Eidrich loomed over the vox serf, dwarfing her with his immensity. To her credit, she diligently worked her station.

 

‘Understood, Marshal...’ was all Azahim was able to reply before his vox abruptly cut out.

 

‘QRF, this is command,’ the serf tried raising them again, ‘QRF, QRF, this is command, respond.’

 

A crackle on the vox signaled a weak reply.

 

‘Boost that!’ Eidrich ordered.

 

‘Boosting signal,’ the serf replied with a hint of worry in her tone.

 

‘Stormraven 22, recovered Venerable Cread, lifting off.’ the pilot’s voice came over weakly.

 

‘The squad?’ Eidrich asked, already knowing the answer.

 

‘Their gone, Marshal.’ Berenen replied, the sound of roaring jets nearly drowning his voice out. ‘Cread damaged heavily. Have Techmarine support on standby at landing pad.’

 

Eidrich took a few steps back as the vox serf began to coordinate with brother Berenen. Only as he disengaged from the serf did he now hear many other stations calling out similar engagements. Many were being repulsed, but far too many were annihilating the patrols and slipping through into supposedly secure regions of the hive.

 

‘Marshal,’ another station called for his attention, ‘Transmission from the Hammer, asking for direct feed to you.’

 

‘Link it through,’ Eidrich spoke just loud enough for the serf to hear.

 

‘Marshal,’ Castellan Vanstint spoke over the distortion of the storm in the heavens, ‘Unknown fleet inbound, not responding to hails.’

 

‘Disposition?’ he asked cautiously.

 

’50 craft of varying size, spread in attack formation. Appears Imperial make, but no transponder beacons are lit. Awaiting visual confirmation.’

 

Eidrich’s eyes narrowed as he processed the information streaming from orbit on a hololithic screen. As the screed passed quickly, a pane opened with a visual feed from the Reaper’s Hammer’s augers. A nauseating view of the storm overhead filled the small window. As he watched, black spots began to take form.

 

‘Can you increase magnification?’ Eidrich pressed his Castellan.

 

‘This is the best we can do, Marshal,’ Vanstint replied over a squeal of distortion, ‘The storm is causing too much interference.’

 

Eidrich strained his eyes on the view, widening the widow until it filled the entire screen. Slowly, the image began to resolve the dots into jagged shapes, pixilated by the distance and the storm. Then, for one brief moment, as if some cruel intelligence wanted the Marshal to have a glimpse of what was coming, the shapes resolved into crystal clarity.

 

Tortured hulls, pitted with age and war, bearing blasphemous icons proudly resloved out of the murk of the void. Most were black and bronze, but a few bore blood red, and others the sickly green of decay. Destroyers and strike cruisers were in abundance, all centered on a massively overbuilt and badly patched battle barge. The barge still had it’s name emblazoned across it’s black, heavily pitted prow; the Lamentation.

 

‘Identified!’ Vanstint called over the now clear vox, ‘Inbound traitor Astartes fleet!’

 

‘Get all combat ready forces on the ground now!’ Eidrich barked as the command center burst into a flurry of frantic activity, ‘As soon as you have everything on the ground, order the ship out of range of that fleet!’

 

‘So ordered, my Marshal.’ Vanstint cut the vox on his end.

 

Eidrich turned to Victorian. He found the Ultramarine Praetor standing a pace away, obviously having heard everything.

 

‘How bad is this going to get?’ Victorian asked.

 

‘Hell is coming.’ Eidrich replied as he slammed his helmet onto his head.

[Bjorn Firewalker]

Again, great story!