Tuesday, December 09, 2014

The 4th Raalparthian Grenadiers

The Raalparthian Grenadiers were known by many in the Segmentum Solar as one of the finest Imperial Guard regiments since the High Lords of Terra came to power. Known by all who served alongside them as “violently loyal” and “brutally precise” due to their no nonsense attitude to combat.  Their service to the Imperium has resulted in changing the way standard war has been fought, especially in situations of long term engagements on Hive worlds, guerilla war fare on death worlds, hand to hand combat on space hulks and stronghold assaults.  The world of Raalpartha is also the home of one of the Imperiums’ finest sniper schools as well as one of the premier training facilities for specialized warfare.

  The most decorated regiment in recent Imperial History has been the 4th Grenadiers. In over 100 campaigns, the 4th never retreated and came out the victor at the end of every bloody engagement. Their 101st campaign had them on the edge of the Eye Of Terror, sent to fight alongside two full battle companies of the Red Reapers Adeptus Astartes. They fought for nearly a month on their own against overwhelming numbers of Black Legion Chaos marines and over 500 hundred thousand renegade traitor Guard.  Both forces were overrun and wiped out with the exception of a small frigate that managed to slip away before the planet was virus bombed by the Black Legion.
The frigate docked on Cadia with its only passengers being Inquisitor Chambers ,Chaplain Bravva of the Red Reapers and ten near death survivors of the 4th Grenadiers.

No other regiment will bear the name of the 4th as a show of the respect for the price that was paid.

The ten survivors were deemed unfit to return to duty as a result of the horrors they encountered. 

Their whereabouts are unknown.


Monday, December 08, 2014

BY THE DUST OF 'EM ALL 16

16:  FLESH AND IRON



  Five Shotguns. Five lasrifles. Five Autoguns. Two heavy bolters. One plasma rifle. Two bolt guns. Six laspitols. Four autopistols. Five stub guns. Two flamers. One melta gun. Three chainswords and about two dozen assorted grenades. This what decades of hoarding creds had got Hex. He could arm a small platoon of PDF soldiers. Instead he was arming a bunch of old gang war dogs. They still needed to pay the new blood that they would need. Nowadays gangers didn’t join for pride and gang turf, they only cared about the creds. Even the Orlocks living in Dead Mans Hole would be wary of joining a gang that has been outlawed for years. The price of flesh and iron was worth it though. Revenge was always worth it.

  So many men that Hex had called brother were no longer with them. Too many. They had been gunned down fighting with or running from, the Arbitrators’ Enforcer squads. Many died at the now infamous “Battle at the Crag”. The final showdown between the outlawed gangs of the Underhive versus Helmwars forces; a force of Necromundan PDF troops, Adeptus Arbites, Watchmen gangs and even an Inquistor and his retinue. The battle may have ended with Jester fighting Arbitrator Rodrigo at the edge of the Crag, but, that’s not how the war started or how it was going to end.

  If Hex was worried about the days and weeks to come, he didn’t show it. Logan was now a few days sober and he was thinking clear again. They had found old man Blazer working a slime rig by day. He was more than happy to don his old gang colors.  Axle and Alex, the twins, had been found by Logan. Hex sought out Stone for days, but once they found him, the mean old bastard was never far from Hexs’ side.
  In the passing days The reformed Iron Fists gang had recruited ten new gangers and two heavies. Hex was surprised by how they had sought him out once word had spread about their return. The veteran gang members had turned away all juves. This was no time to be green. This isn’t a back alley gang fight. This is warfare. Last man standing. Last chance to set the record straight once and for all.

Hex and Logan had decided that they were going to gear up the gang. They knew a Precint house was not too far from Dead Mans and that was the best place to start getting even. The pair of Orlocks decided to meet up Brassers for a good luck drink when they saw Colt running towards them. Logan waved to him and raised his fist, just as Colt hit lost his balance and slammed into the dusty, broken asphalt. They sprinted over to him as others in the community began to form a crowd. He was holding his stomach. His hand sopping with blood.

Hex sat him partially up. Shaking his head, he could tell his old friend had lost too much blood.

“I made it.” Colt said, gritting his teeth and trying to smile despite the pain.
“Those bastards got a lucky shit, but I outsmarted them. Made my way back through the air duct system. Dino…Dino’s gone. I don’t know what happened to Dax either..but..but..we have to be ready brothers. They’re coming.”

Hex bit his tongue. Another brother was dying before his eyes, in his arms, again.

“Who’s coming Colt?” Logan begged.

His breathing was ragged. The fall had knocked the wind from him.

“I don’t know who they are. Thought it was Van Saars but they got more tek than I ever seen. They have to be working with the Dealques. You need to get the hell outta here. Find Dax….finish this. Don’t let these gits come to our town and burn it down. Not after all we been through. It’s all we got. I stuck it to em before I came home though ha ! What good is all that cybernetic crap if it can’t stop a grenade….”

Colt’s body went into seizure and he blacked out. Hex did his best to hold his friend until the shaking stopped. His eyes rolled open and his last breathe left his body. Logan turned away in disbelief.
Hex nodded to his friend. And put his fist to his heart.
“Grab his legs Logan, were taking him home.”

*

  The Stranger was in deep shit. He had been in the thickest of the thick, but this was all bad. Alone in the dark, surrounded by countless walking corpses and what appeared to be a rampaging underhive beast. He was also out of ammo and the constant Hive quakes seemed this whole dome was about to come down on top of him.

  He was having hard time staying focused with all the groaning and the wailing of the beast. He still couldn’t make it out and he was sure he didn’t want to fully know what it was. It appeared to be indifferent to the zombies though, as it barged through them to get at him. Twice it had charged and rammed the small shack he was standing on. Knocking him off and into the horde. Twice he fought his back to another roof and managed to avoid the beast. From what he could tell though, the creature seemed to be a filthy hybrid of the giant rats that plagued the Underhive and some other reptilian thing. Only the Sump could have produced such a damnable thing.

The Stranger’s body was aching and he was tired. The cat and mouse game had gotten old, real fast. He drew his his long blade that was fixed to his thigh and decided to put his faith in his steel rather than wait it out an longer. He took a running leap and rolled into a half dozen rotten souls, smashing them to the broken pavement. He beheaded the first one that was within arm’s reach. Kicked another in the chest and began clearing a small hole for himself to make a run for it.

  The beast roared and charged as the Stranger fought his way through the crowd, heading in the direction of the vent stack. It was his only hope. He didn’t even bother looking back. He ran with all the remaining strength he could muster and still it wasn’t fast enough. The beast closed in on him, Dax could feel its body heat, the stink of its breath and its hot spit on his back.

  The Stranger turned and dropped on his back, holding his blade with both hands he thrust upwards, using the beasts momentum to carve itself a new chest cavity. The beast cried out as its bloated flesh was ripped open and it’s innards spewed out onto Dax and the ground like a giant ball of puss. Dax was knocked into the vent stack bulkhead as the beast’s body smacked into him at crushing speed. His vision spun and his head rang from the force of impact. He was covered in guts from head to toe but he was alive. Staggering up and heading for the vent entrance he looked back.

He couldn’t make out the person in the dark watching him, but Dax knew he was there. He could feel live eyes in the sea of dead ones. He stood for a moment defiant as ever, gesturing with his middle finger his feeling on the situation. Just as he entered the vent stack another Hive quake began. This time it was three times as powerful as the previous. Support beams directly above came crashing down and the rockcrete above came cascading down.

Whoever was tracking him was going to have a hard time crossing the avenue that was  now chocked with debris and the hungry dead. Still he wondered who it was and if they were this good, could they track his movements through the massive network of ventilation access tunnels?


He didn't wait to find out. He limped as fast as he could, heading for Dead Mans Hole.

Saturday, December 06, 2014

Of Templars And Angels 2

2.

Anaru sat with his head in his hands. In all his years he had never been this afraid. He was being accused of murder and treason, a crime that would take his life and also the light of the Emperor.  He shook his head over and over in disbelief. 
His cell opened.
Two space marines now stood before him, their black armor covered in robes and seals and symbols of their faith and devotion to the Emperor.
Anaru had but a few faded gang tattoos and the Imperial Aquila on his body. His fath was strong though and he had prayed non-stop since speaking with the psyker days ago.
“Good evening Captain, on your feet please. The Marshal needs words with you.”  One of the Astartes stated.
Anaru stood and walked out his cell, grateful to stretch his legs.
“Will the psyker be there?” he asked them.
Both Templars shook their heads slowly.
“This is not your interrogation; the Marshal wants to merely meet with you. No individual with the taint of the warp is allowed in our living quarters.”

They escorted him through the higher decks of their ship. Every neophyte and serf and Astarte gave him cold nods. They were not looks of hate, rather, severe acknowledgment.  He was a captain of the Imperial Guard, someone who commanded and was trusted. Someone now in their custody.
Every few meters he would take notice of the war banners, murals or some other curio. Items that would have been used in war now enshrined as holy artifacts in baroque cases. This ship must have seen thousands of campaigns based on their battle honors. A whole hallway was filled with the names of fallen Templars, so that they would be remembered by all who walked the hallways of the Reconquista. So many great deeds, all done in the name of the Emperor. It made Anaru feel proud he was in their presence. If only the circumstances were different.

The Marshal was sitting at his desk, an ornate slab of marble carved with the images of Rogal Dorn and the heraldry of the Black Templars. Data slates and scrolls piled around his desk, his personal servo skull and servitor prepping more information for him to go over. He looked up Anaru and pushed the scrolls he was reading to one side. He motioned for Anaru to be seated. He kept his gaze the entire time. Sizing him up and receiving a data slate from his servitor.
“I am Marshal Kraus, Captain Anaru. I have been meaning to speak to you about the incident aboard your companies’ ship. I am not one to blindly judge, Captain. I wish to know the truth and every detail of it. I would hate to send a man such as yourself to his end in shame. The Emperor forgives as well as he protects. Your Colonel seems to think you are worthy enough of salvation of some kind. I am quite curious as to how you ended up in the position that we found you in.”
Anaru kept the Marshals gaze. Mildly, he shrugged and let out a heavy sigh.
“I will do my best to answer all your requests, Marshal Kraus.”
Marshal Kraus sat upright and cracked the tension from his neck.
“You have been Captain of the first company for five years. Two years serving as First Lieutenant directly under Colonel Ogati. You made first sergeant for your platoon in your first year fighting with the 21st. You’ve campaigned on the front lines most of your career, Captain. The only blemish I can even see is before your time with the Astra Militarum. We all have a past though, even I was involved in the violence that is youth gangs, though that seems centuries ago. You are highly decorated, a warrior and a leader of men in the Holy Emperors Name. So can’t help but hold some faint notion that I do not believe the evidence against you one hundred percent.”

Anaru’s eyes lit up with hope. He felt the blackness in his heart lift and he cleared his throat.
“I thank you Marshal Kraus, for allowing me the benefit of the doubt.”
The Marshal nodded his head and poured the Captain a cup of recaff. His servo skull floating jut behind him, no doubt pict recording the entire conversation.
 “Now, tell me about your mission and the events leading up to your fleet entering the asteroid field, Captain. What you remember may not only save your soul, but the souls of all those on Salessia IV.”
Anaru sipped from the recaff goblet. He leveled his gaze upon the Marshals cold gray eyes. His servitor lumbered over to Anaru, offering him a tin of cigaros.
Anaru took one and lit it. Savoring the flavor and exhaling his nervousness out.
 “We received our orders on the third Sunday of last month. We had only just returned to Poirua from an offensive against the greenskins on Kristzurch IX. We were briefed shortly, as we were getting reports slowly through the Astronomicon. From what the pict and text data had showed, the renegades launched a blitzkrieg assault, taking the PDF by surprise and securing two major Diocese in less than a week. For some reason they were able to contact us for aid, but we had no confirmation that they had received any of our messages via the Astrotelapathica. Nevertheless we had our objectives.Commissar Erastus had gave the lads a pep talk about what were up against. As time went on we had seen images of these renegades. They were butchering civilians as they went, and doing worse to the women. We had agreed that no quarter was to be given and we had instructed all infantry to fix bayonets before deployment. There was talk about the renegades not yet having access to the PDLB’s. This was to be or advantage, as we would be dropped straight into enemy controlled zones, from the Fleet ships in orbit. Each company had specific targets and instructions given to us by command. Colonel Otagi had tasked the 1st with assaulting the Diocese of Saint Mendoza, as Arch Bishop Jerall was under siege and his Apostle Guard were outnumbered nearly six to one. Jerall’s protection or extraction was of the utmost importance, for whatever reasons they may be. Commissar Erastus and I had agreed he could not fall into the hands of traitors, as we both knew what traitors do to a man of the cloth. “
Anaru lit another cigaro and drank the remnants of the recaffin his goblet. Noticing that the servitor was already refilling another goblet and Marshal Kraus was paying very close attention, his hand scribing away on a small scroll.
“Planetfall was set for 0300 hours Salessia time. The Fleet had entered the warp all at the same time, though our own ship was delayed buy a mere half hour, some malfunction with our void shields. The problem was dealt with and we were on our way. To my knowledge we were supposed to come out of the warp directly above Salessia. I do not know what happened as we were knocked around by the constant bombardment of the asteroids.  I just remember seeing the fleet being obliterated before my eyes and not being able to do damn thing about it.”
Marshal Kraus made a note and stirred in his seat.
“I woke up here, with a headache worse than any hangover ever and that psyker telling me I had killed my astropath and navigator. I’m sorry. That’s all I can remember so far, Marshal.”
The servo skull flew off into the darkness of the Marshals’ chamber and Kraus slowly stood.
“Thank you for your honesty Captain. I would hope you will remember more without the aid of your pimaris psyker. I have no trust of such…beings. I would like to think you would also remember more before you go before Interrogator Zephael. He is not known to be as pleasant as myself.”

Anaru stood and saluted the Marshal .
He was escorted back to his cell in silence. 

Friday, December 05, 2014

Come To The Sabbath


  The Death Walker crew emerged from the smoke-choked battlefield. Their black and crimson armor shone in the waning dusk. Waiting at the entrance to the ancient Stormbird was Kefron, a wise and most evil sorcerer lord. The followers of Khorne cared not for magic, but Kefron had promised them power of unimaginable heights. He knew of dark and forbidden places few remembered. He promised them the Blood God’s favor.
“Is it done Gath? Do you have what I asked of you?” Kefron groaned.
 “Aye, wizard I do. But take me for no fool; I shall let you have it soon. Take us now to this altar you claim.” Gath said prominently.
 Kefron paused, looking over the remaining World Eater party. There had been at least sixty when they landed. Now only twenty remain, Gath included.
 “Worry not Gath. I know the way.”
 They boarded the Stormbird, heading north over the vermillion sea.
Kefron once belonged to the Night Lords legion, but over time he grew mad with his pursuit of knowledge. He ventured from world to world, lending his black arts to the Traitor Marine Lords. Nothing seemed to quell his appetite for all things arcane and magnificent. In previous times he used the Night Lords to fulfill his wishes; now though, he used any that answer his call. Many did, so long as they too reaped powerful rewards. Such is the fate of Gath the Death Walker.
“There it is!” Kefron groaned, pointing out the hulking stone edifice.
 It was ominously antiquated, covered in thick, web-like moss. The Stormbird descended to the rocky hill top, as the planets emerald sun vanished beneath the horizon. The Berserker party trudged down the ramp, holding their position at the vanguard of the titanic temple. The crude steps leading up to the passageway were littered with weapons, armor and bones of another era. Kefron stood behind Gath and whispered.
 “So, my friend, now your fate stands before you. Shall you answer the call of your god?”
 Gath turned to the sorcerer, raising a leather bloodstained pouch.
 “This shall be yours once we return to our ship.” Kefron frowned, and nodded.
 Wielding Snagga in his right hand, Gath continued.
 “Lead the way, wizard.”
Kefron lumbered up the steps careful no tot trample any objects.
 “This way my friends. Come; come to the Sabbath of Khorne.”
 With a wave of his hand the rotted moss parted, revealing a rusted egress emblazoned with the symbol of Khorne. Gath and his Berserkers stopped short, unsure of themselves. The brazen door opened slowly and Kefron ventured into the gloom. Gath followed suit, wondering what lay in the heart of this shrine to the Blood God.
The long hallway seemed to stretch out into another realm altogether. Reaching what appeared to be the main chamber, Gath heard…no, felt voices in his head.
 Come; come; feed me; bring me skulls.” the voice beckoned.
 Gath shook his head and gripped Snagga tighter. He looked over his shoulder; Jagee and Fausto had obviously heard it too, for they stood with their backs to each other, waiting for an attack. Vaakon, Bael and Xerzes had also stopped in their tracks. Gath slowed his pace; still heading towards the dimly lit altar that Kefron now kneeled before. Gormaar, Torg and Harek flanked Gath. The rest of the Berserkers waited in the darkness.
 “Kefron,” Gath whispered, “what now?”
 Kefron rose to his feet, and lit a large candle. It illuminated the chamber, revealing blood stained walls and mounds of skulls, human and alien alike. Kefron pulled a silk cover to the floor, revealing a grim brass statue of a horned and mighty daemon. Axe in hand, he sat, hundreds of skulls at the base of his feet.
“Your Lord Khorne;” Kefron began, “Here his presence is felt like no other. Stand before him Gath Deathwalker, receive his blessings and do his biddings.”
 Gath knelt beneath the blazing idol. Silently he spoke to Khorne, asking for power; strength to defeat any who stood before him in battle; strength to suffer grievous wounds and fight on. The temple quaked. A harsh hot wind rushed in, blowing out the candles. Thunderous laughter shook the altar.
 “Bring me his skull and it shall be done.” the voice boomed in his head.
 The Berserker party backed away from their commander, who now glowed red in the pitch black of the shrine. Striding towards Kefron, Gath switched on his double-headed chain-axe, savoring the thought of killing the sorcerer. Kefron, sensing he was endangered, leapt backwards, unsheathing his great sword. He cleaved a Berserker’s head clean from his shoulders and cursed the Blood God.
 “Bring me the wizard!” Gath shouted to his troops, his voice deep and twisted.
 Several Berserkers rushed him, chain-swords and axes wailing. Kefron unleashed a pulsating wave of warp energy. The Marines fell; their heads exploding in a shower of crimson. Gath leapt over his fallen comrades, wildly swinging his axe. Kefron blocked his attacks, desperately trying to escape. The World Eaters stood watching the mighty battle, Kefron and Gath both glowing in the darkness.
“Fool! You attack me after I have led you here! Your power you owe to me!” Kefron bellowed, deflecting the onslaught of blows.
 “This matters not to Khorne; only that your skull sits at his feet and your soul reaped in his name!” Gath proclaimed.
 Kefron kicked out, knocking Gath to the floor. Kefron ran for the hallway, stopping short he began an incantation, trying to bring the wrath of his magic upon Gath.
“Your parlor tricks won’t work on me wizard…Khorne commands this hall! Tonight you sleep in Hell.”
Kefron began to panic, falling on his ass and begging for mercy, like a dog. Gath raised Snagga and drove it into Kefrons’ breastplate, splattering bone and blood across the floor. Kefron, screaming in agony, Snagga bit down again, nearly cutting him in two, the ancient chain-axe screaming and spitting sparks. Choking on his own blood, he reached out for Gath only to be swatted back to the gored, stone floor. Gath delivered the killing stroke; the sorcerers head rolling back down to the altar, his life force spilling everywhere.
Gath walked back to the altar, still glowing, his men standing about in confusion. He placed Kefron’s decapitated head at the feet of the idol.
 “Yeeeesssssssss.” the voice boomed in his head.
 Gath stood in front of the altar, his body violently shaking. His men began running for the exit not sure what was going on. Kefron’s carcass hovered above the floor, electric currents running over the body. Gath was suddenly thrust to the ground; the chamber began to hum and vibrate. Looking up, Gath saw the very fabric of reality tear, the warp spilling through into the shrine. A whirlwind of colors surrounded Gath. He dragged himself to his knees, struggling to see what was happening. Kefron’s body was being dragged into the warp by the hounds of Khorne, their daemon master howling and laughing. Gath finally rose to his feet, gazing into the Immaterium. The giant daemon saluted Gath, his hounds still fighting for Kefron’s body. Gath was thrown across the shrine as the portal closed.
Stepping out into the rising dawn, Gath walked past his crew. Only eight now remained. Their eyes followed him as he boarded the Stormbird.
“What is the plan Captain?” Vaakon asked, unsure if Gath was even coherent.
 He reached into one of his satchels and produced an ornate amulet of shimmering violet. The Berserkers all stared at it, dumbfounded.
 “The wizard said this rune was a key. To what, I know not. I do know his next destination was the Purgatory system. He was to liaison with a Night Lords force en route. I say we join them; take skulls for Khorne and see what this key opens.”
In the depth of space, amongst the stars, Gath sat listening to the voice.
 “Skulls; skulls for my throne…blood for the Blood God….skulls for my Sabbath…”
‘Come to the Sabbath…’ Gath remembered the wizard saying.
 The Sabbath of war is all Gath the Death Walker shall live for.

written 2006, revised 2011

Thursday, December 04, 2014

Of Templars And Angels 1

1.


    The silence was beginning to get the better of Captain Anaru. Not that he was bothered by the dark, mote irritated by the fact he had awaken in the pitch with no clue to his location and whether or not he was a prisoner. He knew he had been conscious for several hours now. He knew he was in a walled room. Growing up in the Underhive, he was more than familiar with the darkness and and the suffocating feeling of tight places. Despite his rising anger, he remained calm, trying to remember what happened. All he could keep seeing was the the millions of asteroids destroying the Fleet as the ships came out of warp space where Salessia IV was supposed to be. So many ships ripped to nothing. So many souls lost. He shook the memory and made the sign of the Aquila.

Anaru began whispering to himself the events in order, but he seemed to have gaps in his memory. It hurt to think, no doubt he had a concussion. He cursed himself for coming up blank. His head seemed to hurt twice as bad if he tried to push aside his thoughts. His body hurt and the air itself seemed thick and heavy. It was almost as if he was being punished for not remembering how he got here.

"YOU ARE."

Anaru nearly jumped out of his skin as he heard the cold voice echo and bounce from wall to wall, ear to ear and through his mind and down his spine. He was paralyzed by the voice. It was then that he realized he was in a cell and the voice was that of a psyker.

"EASY"

The voice released his grip on Anaru's mind and body.

Gasping for air and trying to stand, Anaru nearly double over in agony and loss of equilibrium.

"What have I done...to..to deserve this and who.....who.. are you ?" He asked the voice.

"WHO I AM IS NO CONCERN. WHAT YOU HAVE DONE IS PUNISHABLE BY DEATH."

The voice boomed at Anaru, nearly making him vomit.

"TELL ME WHY YOU MURDERED YOUR ASTROPAT.,"

Anaru's mind swam with half images and blurred memory. Bloody carnage and screams. Sounds of violent destruction.

"I...can't remember." Anaru cried out.

"THE MORE LIES THE WORSE THE JUDGEMENT."

"WHY DID YOU MURDER YOUR NAVIGATOR?"

The voice rang like a thousand death bells in his skull.

Anaru was on his knees, clutching at his skull.

"It’s not lies, I can't remember! PLEASE! STOP!"

The lights came on so sudden it blinded Anaru. He collapsed to the floor, squinting to focus on the shape in front of him.

It was most definitely a psyker.

Tall and pale. Eyes like twin suns. He wondered if this psyker was going to kill him now.

“I am not your judge or jury Captain Anaru. I have been sent here to help you by your Regimental Command. Though, I am not sure I can help you."

"I didn't kill anyone !" Anaru pleaded. " We were dead in the sky before we even reached the surface, I'm not sure how I even managed to survive..."

The psyker looked at him quizzically and coldly.

"Your ship ripped through warp space after avoiding total destruction in the asteroid field some hundred light years from Salessia IV. You then crashed into a small Mechanicus freighter upon re-entering real space about five light years from Salessia Prime. The Priests called for aid and the nearest Imperial force answered the call."

"All the men under your command were found deceased. Some had obviously been butchered and others appeared to have died in the impact. Others...others appear to have been vaporized right where they stood. They found you near your astropath, his throat was cut from ear to ear and your navigator was found with no head. You were covered in blood, Captain. The evidence against you is towering and your loss of memory does not aid you."

Anaru was in disbelief. He had no recollection of anything and no words to give his thoughts a voice. Only panic and confusion in his heart and eyes.


 "You are now on the lower decks of the Reconquista and will remain here until the Black Templars decide what to do with you. That is if they decide at all. The call for aid was also received by a small force of Dark Angels in this sector as well and they are en route as we speak. I will do my best to help you, as Colonel Ogotai has bid me to get to the truth of this matter. He felt that no soldier of his should be left alone to be interrogated by the Astartes alone."

Wednesday, December 03, 2014

UMBRA FACTIS : An =][= Story

Dramatis Personae :

Inquisitor Chambers - Imperial Inquisitor with ties to the Noble House Of Brayag

Erlin Arconis - Sanctioned Psyker of House Brayag

Maalik - One of the Fallen Dark Angels

Uthor Brayag - Second Son of Lord Brayag, Champion of the House, Commander of the Techno Warriors

Savio – House Brayag Retainer

Dannel –House Brayag Retainer

Nestor – House Brayag Retainer

Belmont – House Brayag Retainer

Dim - Gungryn created by Urzz loyal to Inquisitor Chambers

Urzz – Hrud Tech Priest , under the protection of Inquisitor Chambers

Hessian – Former Renegade Space Marine / chapter unkown

The Filthy Few - sole survivors of the 4th Raalparthian Grenadiers, Inquisitor Chambers personal Kill Team

Sgt. Davoss
Ando
Berno
Otis
Emik
Chaka
Cheets
Chano
Sid
Maro


Sunday, November 23, 2014

Into The Void - Chapter 1

  Warning claxons blared at full volume as overhead emergency indicators flashed rapidly in the darkness. The sound so high pitched it caused anyone not accustomed to the wailing to clamp their ears in an attempt to block it out.  This is what Trooper Thorpe was doing when the yells of men and the clang of boots reached the nook he was hiding in.

“It’s not a hull breach you mutts! Looks like we got ourselves a fraggin’ stow away!” a voice bellowed in the red flashing gloom.

More boots thundered into the holding bay.
The unmistakable hum of a plasma rifle being powered up forced Trooper Thorpe to look up from his hiding place.

“ Lower that damnable thing before you blow us into the Black you moron!” another voice growled.
“ On yer feet boy, lest you want to die on your knees!”  A third voice rang out, followed by the barrel of a lasgun pointed square in his face.

The claxons stopped and the lighting went fluorescent. Three men now towered over him, inches away, guns ready to end him.

“Take this boy to the bridge, let the Captain deal with him.”  The man pointing the lasgun ordered.

“Get up you scum!” The largest of the three hoisted him to his feet and began hauling him off.

He immediately regretted his decision in sneaking onto this ship.


  As the three men and their new prisoner stepped onto the bridge, Thorpe realized he had indeed, made a huge mistake. A large Ork stood over holoslab table barring the biggest set of gold teeth at him. On either side of him stood more, hard looking men and a woman with eyes like  cold, carved ice. Directly behind them stood what appeared to be an Adeptus Astarte and another man facing the view port. The darkness of space and the light of stars just beyond the ships glass.
Trooper Thorpe was dripping with sweat.

“Wot av we ere den mates? The Ork said, pulling a large blade from his hip as he trudged towards them.

“Put that thing away Gwarbadd, before the boy pisses himself.” The man near the Astarte boomed.

The Ork snarled at Trooper Thorpe and sheathed his blade. Golden tusks shining in the gloom.

“Well, then. It would seem you are what the trouble is on my ship. Tell me boy. What in the name of the Emperor are you doing on MY ship?”

For a moment the silence seemed to echo and grow. All eyes upon him he finally mustered his nerve and spoke.

“Trooper Thorpe, sir. I was separated from my platoon during the fighting with the rebels. My unit was ambushed in the initial attack and I lost my rifle in the melee. I ran for cover when the artillery bombardment began and made my way to the port. I thought this was an Imperial freighter and decided to hold up for the night. I beg your forgiveness for my mistake, my Lord.” 

 I’m not a Lord, Guardsman. What outfit are you with?”

Thorpe flinched and got his bearing again.“ 5th Gallatin Rifles.” Thorpe announced.

“I see. Gallatin is a long way from here soldier and I won’t be returning back to that mudhole from where we came. Uprisings just don’t pay very well, you see.”

  Thorpe did not understand his meaning and it was on his face as plain as the night was dark.
“You have two options, Trooper Thorpe. I can blast you into the Black and that will be that….or…. You can earn your keep as part of my crew, if they accept you, until we reach Gallatin. Though I’m not sure what kind of a reception a deserter gets…”

  Thorpes’ face went cold.  “Sir, I did not desert my unit.”
For what felt like an eternity to Thorpe, his mind ran the chain of events that led him here. So much carnage, so much death. He could still hear the bombs and screams.
  The man finally came face to face with Thorpe. His face was crossed with scars where his beard did not cover and he wore an eye patch with an emblem designating he was a Rogue Trader.

“Call me Captain, boy. Captain Rikard De Duenez. Welcome to the Void Hawk.” He said.

  Thorpe nearly gasped but caught himself. He had heard tall tales about the crew of the Void Hawk and their exploits, but never in a hundred years did he expect to be joining in them. Yet here he stood. The newest member of the infamous Rogue Trader pirates this side of the Galaxy. Emperor help him.
The older man who had leveled his lasgun at Thorpes face earlier patted him on the back with gusto.

“Cheer up boy. You’re lucky to have made it onto our ship. Nothing against the Gallatin Rifles but it looks like you lot were not doing so well down there. You may just have saved your own life.”
Thorpe shook his head, not knowing what else to say.

“ Aye, Pops is right. If we didn’t need to refuel we wouldn’t have stopped at that mudhole anyhow. Bloody rebels make things harder in our line of work. Ain’t that right Cap’?” a short, stocky brute in a faded leather Guard jacket chimed in.

“Right as rain,Crow.  Why don’t you and Pops take Thorpe here to get some recaf and chow. I’m sure he needs it.  Show him around and then bring him back here.  The rest of you lot can get back to work. I’ve got plans to discuss with Gwarbadd and Barabus.” The Captain motioned towards the Astarte that was now starring right through Thorpe.

  He had seen Space Marines before, but none like this. His white armor had a patina to it, almost like rust. Despite the aged look to his ceramite, he was pristine, with the exception of the dozens of battle damage. He bore no insignia of any kind. No ranking or motifs that he was used to Space Marines displaying. Not even Aquilas. Thorpe looked away.  He could feel the Astartes’ eyes behind that menacing helmet.  
Barabus.
The name alone chilled his very soul.