“Here me brave soldiers of the God Emperor of the Imperium!” Commissar Samuel Kint screams from atop the still treads of one of the armored Lemen Russes’ of the Cadian 101st. His voice is carried across the still plains of the Cydor Fields with the aid of a turret mounted laud hailer; the static and echo do little to stifle the authority in his voice.

“Only a few short miles from this position lies not a destination, not an enemy but your very destiny! All that you have done and all that you have endured has been for this day! This moment! This coming battle! Hell itself rages unchecked! A towering jagged barb of warp damned debris has impaled our precious Cygnus! The wound it has caused to our world is nothing compared to the rot that seeps from this poisoned blade! Reality is torn asunder and the foul taint of Chaos basks in the rancid miasma of its infamy! Dislodge this spear from our world and destroy it! And with it goes the servants of the Ruinous Powers! Brothers and sisters destiny calls to us, can you hear it beckon?”

The detachment of soldiers punches their fists skyward and cheer.

“Come then, let us answer its call and take from her the glory that is due to us! We ride now in HIS name!”

Iblis sits upon his makeshift perch, the ruins of a wrecked Lemen Russ that still smolders with strange chaos fires. The bird like Lord of Change cranes his long neck across the battlefield, first toward the tall jagged bit of warp tainted asteroid that rises from its impact crater and disgorges chaos energies for miles around and spreading. It feels like pure invigoration wafting over him and as pleasing a thing as it is, its secondary on the beast’s mind. He leans on his staff and watches the frail Daemonettes cavort around the rock unleashing upon each other both soft passions and violent debasements all of which are part of their dance. Across the way the fleshling’s command post has become the butcher’s workshop occupied by a warrior cabal of Bloodletters and their marshal Surgat bringing swift death to any unworthy foe that remains. Iblis wonders if the Bloodletters put even half that effort into something useful like scheming if they’d be less a waste of Warp matter. He settles on their inferiority and simplicity over them possessing anything even remotely like potential.

A rumble like thunder from the east doesn’t startle the Lord so much as sicken it with contempt and pretentious loathing for his lesser.

Jabor wipes a bit of pestilent spittle from its rubbery bloated lips with a single puffed and rotted hand. The Great Unclean One smiles down at numerous children, swarms of little rotund clones called nurglings who all chant his name and praise the belch could drown out battle cannon fire.

The plague master giggles and his cheeks flush with rancid stagnant blood. “Excuse me…” Jabor waves a puffed finger “Bad manners my lovelies are a sign of poor upbringing.” It reaches its hand down into a filth filled pit and plucks up one of the screaming Cadian infantrymen. The Unclean One casually balls him up and grinds with fat hands till blood and meat squish out between its fingers and rain down on its little children who rush the bits like birds to breadcrumbs.

Hunger from within its spilled and overflowing gut demands more food. Jabor’s eyes slowly fix upon the pit. Two fingers reach in and pluck out a black coated figure from among the guards.

Iblis watches the obese demon stare at the little meal as it kicks and screams. The Lord of Change overhears the crass and crooning little jokes and comments spoken to the Cadian’s Commissar with no amusement. Iblis murmurs a hushed groan of pleasure eventually. “Fitting a fleshling who makes his way by spreading misery and despair should meet his end in the belly of a same minded beast like Jabor.” What follows is some simple laughter from the bird thing as well as an annoyed moan at hearing some of the Unclear One’s relentless chatter to his soon to be meal.

“Stop your whimpering. At least he takes time to relish his successes! You do nothing but whine!” Screams the herald of Khorne Surgat atop his living metal mount, a Juggernaught from across the field. He and his bloodletters have handed over hellblades to the remaining guardsmen in hopes of teasing from them one final combat, one final bit of satisfaction.

Iblis sees nothing wrong with always planning ahead. He considers flying over to the herald and impaling him on the horn of his mount but soon more schemes and plans within plans distract him.

Jabor finally drops the lone morsel of a man down a mouth that could swallow a sentinel whole if need be. Another massive belch is loosed. A haze of greenish gas escapes Jabor’s lips and swirling within it are the wailing screaming phantoms of his meal who fade into nothingness. He’s ready for dessert, a particularly petrified senior officer.

To: The Office of the Governor Militant
From: Selusia Continental Command, Col Markus Cochrane of the Cadian 101st
Regarding: Selusia Security Reports
Classification: Crimson

Since the time of last months Security Report we have little new to offer Cygnus Command with regard to credible threats. As you well know the Selusian Continent is mostly a frozen waste with ice pack so thick and temperatures so cold that no enemy could mount any feasible threat. Selusia Command remains at the ready and are ever diligent regardless.

I have little else to offer and would end this transmission here if not for the urgings of some of the field command who insist I make note of what they have dubbed the “Grostiche Incident”

Grostiche is a range of mountains that crosses the northern plains of Selusia and dotted with pits of rock but mostly flat plains and coniferous forests. An Armored Detachment from Lt Col Brunwaldt’s tank company had been out searching the Grostiche mountains that pass through sector seven looking for a lost Chimera full of tech adepts and auxiliary support staff that had been lost in a white out. Their homing beacons had seemed to malfunction as well. The Armored Detachment traced them to the point where their homing beacon failed.

The detachment found the Chimera nestled between some large rocky outcroppings to shelter it from the blizzard. As they neared within several kilometers of the Chimera their own beacon systems began to fail and Vox Casters supposedly began to broadcast Xenos whispers and odd noises. I mark up most of what I’ve said and what I will follow with as superstitious hysteria from local conscripts within the 101st Selusian Imperial Guard.

They say they spotted shapes moving in the snow storm that were draped in flayed skin that had belonged to some of the Tech adepts. They say these shapes had knives for fingers and a relentless desire to coat their skeletal forms in more wet flesh.
A survivor from the Basilisk crew mentions that specters rose up from the ice, their bodies immaterial and ghastly, and that they flew across the ground and ripped through metal bulkheads with a might that even Ogren cannot muster.

The few remaining Tech Adepts were loaded onto a Hellhound that had managed to penetrate the snow and were rescued. The Hellhound crew relates a fantastic tail of ice covered and snow packed skeletons carrying weapons that would strip the layers away from Imperial armor and that these weapons were no larger then a las rifle. One of them reports a pair of ponderous pyramids that phased onto the ice fields in a dim flash of green light.

They say hideous mechanical undead marched from the swirling vortex within these idols while throwing bursts of explosive green power around the battlefield. They say no amount of ordinance could penetrate their hides and any superficial damage done to it was reknits by this fantastical living metal.

The local population have many colorful stories about such odd and unbelievable enemies. It most likely is resultant from unconfirmed and unreliable Imperial reports of robotic Xenos found on dead worlds. Such outrageous stories may have found their way into the culture of the local population via the loose lips of drunk officers and naval adepts during the first days of the garrison construction.

What is confirmed is that something prevented the return of all but one tank from the detachment. It is more likely that the cause for this is revolutionist traitors from extremist groups found here in Selusia and all around Cygnus. These ignorant fools believe the gracious hand of the Emperor and his forces is to oppressive for their little world. They may have clothed and armed themselves in a manner similar to these restless dead that are part of the local color in order to shake the spirits of the Selusian guard. I assure you it has not weakened our resolve any. This is far more likely a scenario then ice phantoms.

Thought for the Day: The Loyal Servant Learns to Love the Lash

+++End Transmission+++

Cygnus Tomb Necrons Vs Armored Company of the Cadian 101st
Game Size: 1440
Mission Type: Take and Hold
Result: Solid Victory for the Cygnus Tomb

Inquisitor Gaius Reynard carefully and dutifully records the deed in his grand tome. Each word laid out on actual parchment with a stylus made from an avian’s quill as if he were some scholar of a backward and medieval world within the Imperium. Some things cannot be fully expressed by the data slat or key stroke of a computer. Any good deed worth recording should be written by hand, by the hand that carried out the deed in fact. There in the character is seen and felt. The cold anonymity of a computer fails to grasp the personality and the soul of an author. Or so Gaius has always felt.

Today’s deed is the Purge of the Jandor garrison on Cygnus Primaris. The disloyal and the ignorant guardsmen of the Cadian 101st have been put in the Emperor’s hands now.

“… and Sister Superior Rosa has noted a growing paranoia and reclusive nature among your storm troopers my lord. She notes that many of them have taken to wearing their rebreather units at all times and when confronted by the observation become hostile and…” Reynard listens to Palatine Preceptor Daniella Verlossi drone on about matters of little consequence. He pays much more attention to making sure the letters of his work are flawless.

“She talks a great deal doesn’t she my lord.” Canoness Preceptor Helena Volkham states in a cool and sharp observation. She wears none of the power armor that Verlossi is encased in. She instead has chosen a long black dress with pale red sash that hangs around her waist. Her hair is a long full blond, not the uniform like ear length crop that the other sisters of the Velvet Rose sport. She sits cross legged beside the Inquisitor watching the subordinate give her briefing. Danielle Verlossi continues on unphased by the comment

“… Sisters Superior Berghoff and Crenella have not yet found any signs of mutation among the dead Cadians nor have they uncovered heretical idols or signs of deviation from the Ecclesiarcial faith. It may be possible that…” Daniella finds it difficult to continue on with the rest of the statement. The implications of what she considers saying are to much for her mouth to bare.

Canoness Volkham turns toward Reynard with a look of stark surprise and indignation. “She thinks you made a mistake. She thinks you might have killed a company of innocent men.”

Reynard turns angry eyes upon the young Palatine. He sets his quill into the well of ink and speaks a slow and hateful tone “Palatine Preceptor do you mean to say that I was erroneous in my judgment? That it is possible that the Cadians who welcomed us to Jandor with las rifles and ordinance shells were somehow pure men? Do you think I somehow made a mistake? That I did not sense deviants and mutants, that the taint of the ruinous powers I foresaw was in error! Say what you mean girl!”

“No lord, that is not possible. The judgment of the Ordo Hereticus is without question.” She relents meekly.

“Continue your report” Reynard returns to his quill and his writings.

“Several of the sisters have noted a growing presence of vermin in the garrison. Rodents my lord and they say they are quiet malicious my lord. In fact some of the sisters bitten have become bed ridden with sickness and…”

Canoness Volkham laughs quietly. Reynard looks up briefly and cuts off Daniella. “I said continue with your report not explain to me the intricacies of the Cadian’s poor cleanliness.”

“As you wish…” She goes on with her report of the battle and the security of the Garrison now that its in Sororitas hands.

Helena Volkham rises from her chair and moves to Reynard’s position. She slithers under his writing arms and crawls into the man’s lap pressing very near his face. She cocks her head back at the Palatine as she meticulously rambles her facts. “Do you know what I think my lord?”

“What do you think?” Reynard asks in a low voice filled with urge and distraction.

Daniella Vollosi answers with a bit more force in her voice then she expected. “What do I think… I think it’s an ill omen, perhaps portent of something truly terrible my lord. When priests and Sororitas alike report violent and deviant nightmares and some say they cannot hear the voice of our Emperor any longer. What should I think?”

Reynard knows he clearly missed whatever it was she was talking about before the subordinate’s outburst. He can’t manage to tear his eyes from the pale smooth skin of the Canoness that straddles him and the beading sweat on her chest.

Helena still stares at the Palatine with contemptuous eyes and then turns back to the man she has between her legs “I don’t think she believes you My lord. I think she believes you killed the Cadians in cold blood. That there is no deviant presence here… well at least not in the Cadians. Don’t you see how she’s looking at you. What do you think she’s thinking? Maybe that there’s a mutation or two beneath your robes. I know there’s not. We’ve had more then enough time to search out mutation on each other haven’t we…”

Gaius Reynard nods in agreement with the Canoness. How dare the brat accuse him, not with words but with thoughts? How dare she question his purity?

The Inquisitor stands, careful to make sure his robes well cover any inappropriate  displays by his body. Satisfied he smiles at the Palatine and gestures openly, still with quill in hand. “My dear Daniella we have achieved a great victory and you let your mind be derailed by minor miseries and imagined evils. You must learn to appreciate your gains and take pride in your successes.”

“There is no room for pride in the Sororitas Inquisitor, only duty” She states quizzically. “But there is the matter of the Canoness Preceptor Volkham, may the Emperor protect. Her body has been anointed and prepared for travel back to the Shrine of Celestia to be interred and…”

She is cut off by the Inquisitor’s quick hands wrapping around her throat and slamming her against his study walls. No air can reach her lungs and no amount of force can throw the man off.

Canoness Volkham moves up beside the Inquisitor as he stares into the bulging eyes and red face of the Palatine. “You have to kill her otherwise she’ll accuse you. You don’t have time for accusation questioning you to prove your faith and your purity. Kill her! Kill her Reynard kill her!” She whispers into the Inquisitor’s eye with equal parts of ecstasy and spite.

Daniella finally gets her leg in position to push back the maniac. “What… what’s wrong with you!” She coughs and starts to reach for her side arm.

“She’s going to shoot me do something” Helena screams.

Reynard reacts quickly and rights his position. “You’d gun down your own Canoness! And you think me the heretic Palatine!”

Dazed by the absurdity of the statement Daniella falters for a moment “Helena Volkham is dead.” She responds while raising her Bolt pistol at the Inquisitor but she is too late. With all the strength he can muster Gaius lashes out with one hand. Then its over, Daniella drops to the ground as dead weight. Half the quill protrudes from her left eye, the rest buried into her brain. A carpet of crimson starts to surround the corpse. The quill must have jabbed through the back of her skull as well.

Gaius falls to his knees panting. “She… she said you were dead… why would she say such an absurd thing. Dead… Those Cadians that charged you yesterday, you cut them down like a scythe leveling wheat. Didn’t she see that? You dead… why would she… what was that business about anointing a body and…”

Helena kneels down beside the Inquisitor, her lips only inches from his. “You saved me. She was going to shoot me. How awful, my destiny could have ended here on the floor of your study. Thank you.” She gently pushes the man’s back to the ground, the warm blood quickly seeps through his cloths and delights his skin.

“Well, we couldn’t have that now could we…” Gaius mutters as his robe is pushed open and the Canoness’ blood slick hand runs across it. Her own dress is quickly removed and their bodies meet.

Gaius Reynard spends the next few hours alone on the floor of his study slicked in blood. His work on Cygnus Primaris begins shortly thereafter.

“My Fellow Citizens, occasionally in every politician’s career they have the opportunity to represent the people of their nation and recognize true greatness. It is with great pride that I am here today to recognize the Cadian 7th for their heroic deeds against a rogue Witch Hunters force.

The Cadian 7th was deployed at the Emperor’s request to patrol a system of ice planets for traces of Eldar activity in the area. After finding no evidence of such activity our Brave Men were confronted by this Inquisitor and her forces, not treated as heros but as traitors. It seems the Inquisitor felt the men were corrupted by the phantom Eldar influence of the forces that did not exist.

Our men are pure.
Pure in their faith.
Pure in their Allegiance and pure
…in their bravery.

Our men did not back down, but mercilessly defeated the inquisitors forces. She and her forces of unchecked Hinnys (Female Mules) were no match for the Leman Russ’ and Strategic Brilliance of Office Worth and his men.

Let us Celebrate this victory. Let us dedicate today in their honor.

To Victory!
To Honor!
To The Emperor!”

***

Imperial Guard vs. Sisters of Battle
Seek and Destroy: Gamma
2,000 Pts
Imperial Guard: Solid Victory

The heavy blackish clouds that linger in the air. The setting sun is but an orange smear behind them. The damned smog chokes the life from the world and wards off almost all light from Cygnus’ warm star. The cloud wasn’t always there. It wasn’t a product of his garrison of the industry of Cygnus. No. Davis recalls the birth place of those clouds. The massive smoke stacks in what once was Kartha, the capital city of Cygnus. Sometimes it was just called Cygnus City. What a city it was with its huge docking system and titanic defense turrents with their exteriors decorate in Imperial livery. The Eccelisarchial church to the God-Emperor stood majestic above all and the statues of saints looked over the city and the open farm land and untamed willderness beyond. Then the End came to Cygnus.

Orks came.

Ferrel stares up at those clouds now with the same hate he had the first day they were born and poured into his perfect sky. He remembers standing here in Caspia and looking westward toward Kartha. The brave soldiers of the 101st had went in that direction only hours early and thunder boomed from the west for hours. He remebers when the booming stopped and with his binoculars he saw them, the smoke stacks being erected quickly and there was no counting their numbers. He remembers the blackness belching out their jagged open mouths and into his sky. Each puff was a warning and a threat, new war machines are coming.

The war machines of the 101st rose from the dead a few days later. Their battered and ramshackle frames and hulls pressed into service but now they carry new masters nd most sport crude weapons and thundering guns where once there was precise Imperial weapons. They were covered in spikes and blades and most sported a crude red paint job.

Ferrel was part of the counter-attack on the northern edge of the city. Orks had long since butchered their way through the city’s initial defense. Every man able to hold a gun became a guardsmen that day. Colonel Soradon gathered every man he could, including Ferrel, and mobilized every free tank not already track deep in greenskins and met the Northern lines of the Ork.

It was an ugly day and Ferrel Davis only permits himself brief thoughts of the battle. Half their lines fell almost instantly to the relentless advance of a tracked vehicle that looked like it ate Russes for breakfast. Orks followed in its wake and clogged up every street and ally. He remembers holding the other end of the Northern lines while the perimeter between him and the greenskins closed more and more every minute.

It remembers Saul Hallicut and the rest of his unit holding a section of a city block. They fired into the ork hoard and held fast as long as they could. There was a flash of light and an orkish howl from one of the building top and a flicker of power where Saul once was. He and his whole squad vanished without a trace.

Tank after tank was gut down by speeding green demons on smoke belching bikes or wheezing squeaking cans with cut arms and stomping legs the equal of any Astrartes Dreadnought.

There was this ork. Dressed in wild clothing and drapped in chains and tattered rags. He carried a crooked brass staff and all his clothing and chains slithered and flailed as the ork radiated with psychic energy. His eyes were empty sockets filled with violent energy. He remembers the Ork opening his mouth and vomiting a stream of energy that punched through one of the Grey knights leaving a smoldering hole.

Colonel Soradon ran from his command post with his officers, each of them bathed in burning fuel and screaming until all was ash while Orks with fuel canisters and pressure hoses laughed at their good work and bellowed about “Da Burny Dance” as Sorodon flailed and faultered.

It was a blessing he thought when Brother-Captain Torgan and his Grey Knights entered the field. Sorodon always spoke highly of them. he always said that the Space Marines where the Emperor’s finest and the Grey Knights were the finest of the Emperor’s finest. The entered the field behind the Greenskins lines and were met with a tide of bullets and blasting shells from the rolling fortress. Before a retreat was called Torgon was wounded and almost half his Grey Knights lay dead or dying. The Grey Knights did not save the day, they did not turn the tide. They suffered along side us.

The Counter attack failed. Caspia fell. Cygnus became a hell world.

Ferrel Davis wonders who else survives. He’s all alone, has been for years now. Maybe others still live on the other continents. Maybe there is still a resistance of some sort. Maybe there is hope.

The smeared light of the sun sinks beneath the black curtain in the sky and behind that curtain all his much darker and the cold is unforgiving.

Game Details

Orks Vs Imperial Guard
2500 pts
Seek and Destroy mission.

Result: Solid Orkish Victory

The Beast stands in the long hall, the stone room lit only by a few burning cauldrons and lantern carrying grot slaves. Beside the throne the Beast stares down the Sky Marshal’s personal physician and his personal nemesis Art’attack.

“Like i said Boss dem preechy girls was zippin round the ruins o’ Medras in da dark like a bunch a buzzasquigs and dey went fer some oomie rubble pile. Dey got shot and cut ta bits but…” The loud guttural voice of the Beast is silenced by the hollow and subdued tone of the Painboss.

“But you failed to secure their strong hold did you not? You also failed to secure this precious temple ruin that they sought. Taking their intended target would have given us understanding of their reason for coming here and securing their launch point would have given us valuable recon about their forced. All you managed to do was lose soldiers.”

“You da most grotty ork i eva seen. All dem oomie bitz in yer ead done zogged you good!” The Beast counters.

“Shut yer word holes both of ya!” Worldbreka demands and both surrender to him. “First off We said send ya good boyz to lead dis Bloth. Good boyz don’t mean a warphead nutter and dat madboy Big Mek Cuttha? I’m wonderin if all dat time wit da Squigs ain’t made ya think like one.”

“Beggin’ ta speak sir but i didn’t lose da field”

“No, ya just failed ta win it and not winnin is da same as losin’!” The Sky Marshal screams. “So now i want ya to gather up a big ole’ mess o boyz and jump da preechy girls. Find a nice big lot and get stuck in! Wipe em all over da field and make sure der preechy boss gets da message loud un clear. Cygnus belongs ta da Planet Smasha!”

“Fine, i’ll put Cutta and Mangla Rotgut on it.” The Beast turns, his great girth giggling as he does.

“Oh an Bloth…” The Sky Marshal says, rearing up in his throne “try and surprise me dis time, i’m gettin tired of all yourconsistency.