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Ghosts from the Void


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Ghosts From the Void

 

 

Carcharadons_Astra_Header.png

 

 

The weaker tenants of the main

 

Flee from their rage in vain,

 

The vast menhaden multitudes

 

   They massacre o’er the flood;

 

With lashing tail, with snapping teeth

 

   They stain the tides with blood.

 

 

A
nd so it came to pass, that in the 903rd year of the 41st millennium, a century before the Imperium would be shaken to its core and everything forever changed, Lugft Huron, Lord of Thorns, Chapter Master of the Astral Claws, and self-proclaimed Tyrant of Badab, did declare "just seccession" from the Imperium and, in so doing, ignite what was then the greatest conflict of our age. Alas, such was not to be, and if we could have seen what was yet to come within the next, darkest millennium, we might have counted ourselves lucky to be spared the horrors that came after Badab. Brother fought brother in a decade long war that saw seventeen warrior-brotherhoods of the Adeptus Astartes clash against each other in open conflict. Billions died and entire Chapters of Space Marine were condemned to crusades of Penitence, and even now, considering the horrors they would have to confront before that term was ended, it is impossible to say whether or not they survived.

     The war was brutal and bloody, with countless tales of equal parts valor and dishonor. These stories are too numerous to be told in full. The combatants found themselves embroiled in a dark cloud of violence the likes of which few had ever seen before -- at Sacristan, Angstrom, Crow’s World, and all the others, even unto Badab itself, at that final decisive battle. But the shadows hold no terror for those born of it. From the Outer Dark came the silent ones, those ancient predators, and where they reaved in Badab, nought was left but a red wake and silence. Like beasts of old they struck, and just as quickly were they gone. They were the sons of the Void Father, the bloody Nomads, the Maws of the End. They were the Carcharodon Astra, and with their coming, death did come to Badab.

 

Badab Primaris

913.M41

     Kawainga knelt in meditation in the stomach of the Nicor, remembering the battle. The traitors had been unprepared for the savage assault of the Pale Nomads, who had struck from the shadows. He had been there, at the head of the assault as his void brothers had launched their attack the only noise was the roar of chainsword engines, and then the cries of the Tyrant's human auxilia as they fell like wheat before a reaper. Then came the bark of bolters as the Astral Claws turned and opened fire on those they had once called brothers, not caring for the lives of the auxilia who may be caught in the cross fire. The bolts screamed through the night air, shredding the mortal soldiers and impacting against the unyielding ceramite of the Carcharadons. Kawainga struggled to clear his mind, clear away the screams of the soldiers, find his inner peace. Here in the hold of the ship, the silence was broken only by the beating of his twin hearts, and the rippling of the water he knelt in, disturbed by his shaking arms. He tried to push from his mind the memory of the Astral Claw who had forced his way through the wave of humanity, intent on seizing the banner that Kawainga had borne for so long. The Claw had fallen, struck down by the snarling teeth of a chainsword chewing through his gorget.

 

     Here in the dark hold, Kawainga remembered the end of the battle, standing among the corpses of friends and foes alike, drenched in gore, but victorious. He remembered the silent ride back into orbit, the joyless task of cataloging and honoring his fallen brothers. He wished he didn't. He wanted to revel in the glory of their victory, in the knowledge that they were doing the Void Father's work and that the banner he bore was a symbol of righteousness. But he couldn't, not when so many had died, and for what? They had thrown away their place by the Void Father's side for nothing more than avarice, and a desire to be free. Deep in the hold, Kawainga knelt in silence, pushing the previous night's events into his subconscious, and preparing for the battle he knew would come soon.

 

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Ancient Kawainga of the Carcharadons Astra

Depicted as he was during a skirmish with renegade forces on Badab Primaris

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Lieutenant Tahura strode through the battle lines of the human auxilia, swinging his eviscerator indiscriminately, hewing through two or three of the mortals with each chop. Each step took him closer to his goal, the traitorous champion on the opposite side of the plaza who was rallying the auxilia to continue their assaults despite the hideous casualties wreaked by the Carcharadons. Tahura lumbered on, his helm spattered with the blood of soldiers who were far too young to understand what they were fighting for. This fact did not dissuade him as he locked eyes with the champion, and despite the dull black lenses of his helmet conveying no emotion, Tahura's intentions were clear. The Claw stepped down from the broken staircase from which he had been surveying the ebb and flow of the battle, and began his own advance through the tide of humanity, batting aside any unfortunate mortals who got in his way with a contemptuous swat of his ceramite gauntlet. Within seconds the warriors had met, surrounded by the swirling masses of the soldiery. Eviscerator met power sword, Tahura's heavy swings turned aside by the quick movements of the younger, faster Champion. The Claw couldn't keep this up all day though, already his strength was beginning to wane from blocking the Tahura's brutal strikes. He had to end it quickly. Steel flashed, and the Champion's blade sheathed itself in Tahura's side, refusing to budge. Despite his wound the lieutenant revved his eviscerator, and lopped the traitor's head from his shoulders. Seeing their champion, their leader, a being they viewed as scarcely less than a god slain with such ease, the auxilia turned and fled the square, only to be cut down by the fire of bolters, and the silent pursuit of the battle brothers of the Carcharadons Astra. The square had been captured, but the day's fighting was far from over. Tahura snapped off the blade of the now unpowered sword, and prepared himself for the next battle, and the one after that, and on and on until Badab had been won. He shook his head to clear away the red mist of bloodlust that had begun to cloud his senses, and followed his brothers down the street, into the den of the lion.

 

 

IMG_20171107_175237.jpgLieutenant Tahura

Pictured here with Ancient Kawainga after a battle against renegade forces on Badab Primaris

 

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I hope this update is sufficient, I've started working on some more stuff, and I've got a finished model or 2 that I still need to write lore for and post, but I've been a bit busy recently. I've got this next week off, so hopefully I'll be posting a bit more, and getting some more done. 

 

Hiddenermac: Good to see you here man, glad you like it!

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