Location: Planet Obscura, within the Valian System of the Greater Valia Sector, Segmentum Pacificus
Date: 931.M30
Parties Involved: Legions involved: The Blazing Sisters, The Wild Blades. 
Primarchs involved: Farah Cusatis, Erron Khaal


The permanant twilight of the once hostile Deathworld now glowed with the presence of thousands upon thousands of fires. The great bonfires served a dual purpose: to push back the encroaching darkness of the world, as well as send the many fallen Astartes to their final rest among the heavy plumes of smoke and ash. 

Among the funeral pyres huge wooden and thatch longhouses had been hastily contructed in a rough circle, each large enough to hold hundreds of Marines. Within these great buildings, as well as all around them, a cacaophony of sound rose up into the starlit skys. Above the planet the great fleets of two Legions rested, anchored within the gravity well while the Legions themselves celebrated on the surface below.

All of this was rather new to Farah, and her daughters, celebrations like these were not their style. Though they shared in common with the Wild Blades the act of burning their dead. Many of the female Astartes stood vigil over the pyres of their sisters completely armored with weapons held at rest. Farah herself had just finishing removing her armor and dressing in a white wrap of cloth, a golden pendant with a Imperial Aquilla afixing it at the shoulder. The cloth laid over one half of her chest extending down to her knees, and held to her waist by a single brown rope. She looked to the Slayers of Herakles that surrounded her, the mighty Honorguard that always stood vigilant wherever she went. They were completely dressed in their armor halberds ready to kill at a moment's notice. "Daughters... Go. I am in no danger here. Secure the perimeters with your sisters who stand vigil." Farah moved away from them as they obeyed the order without hesitation. Stepping into the Longhall Farah took a deep breath, the scents of sweat, and alcohol filled her nostrils, the loud sounds of music and laughter filled her ears. She moved to find her brother Primarch, with smooth steps from feet wrapped in shining gold sandals.


Erron sat on a bench at one of the large long tables that dominated the center of the Longhouse, all of the tables piled high with food brought from the fleets and foraged from the barren countryside. Huge barrels of ale and wine flowed, as tankards were filled and clanked together with toasts for the living, and for the dead. He, like many of his Astartes around him, was dressed in a simple roughly spun linen vest and baggy trousers, his two blades fastened at the waist by a broad leather and brass studded belt. The dark tattoos all along his arms shined with a dull gleam from the hundreds of torches, and he laughed uproarously and pounded the table as one of his Thanes cracked a joke, draining the last of his ale from his mug. His black hair was braided down his back in feathers and a leather cord, and as he finished his drink he rose and excused himself for another, turning and almost bumping into the tall elegant form of his sister as she made her way into the feast hall.

"Farah! At last I was wondering if you would spend the whole celebration outside with the dead, come now lets get you something to drink. Tonight we honor the glory of the living and the valor of those who fell in our conquest of this world!" He says with a cheerful smile, giving his sister a one armed hug and pulling her close, before he kept his arm around her shoulder and ushered them both closer to the barrels of ale. 

A Wild Blades Astartes clad in furs and leather stood by, making small talk with his brothers as the Primarchs approached. With a smile Erron addressed him. "Brother Jaquile, my sister requires your finest refreshments if you would be so kind." The Marine bowed low to the two gods of war, and filled a frothy mug and handed it carefully to Farah with two hands, before taking his Primarchs and filling it as well.

With a smile Farah took the mug and sipped at it carefully, drinking in slow moderation as she always did. The female Primarch had enjoyed the taste of alcohol, but did not like the effects of drinking too much at once. She turned and looked at all her daughters laughing, and sharing stories with the Wild Blades Astartes. With raised brows she looked to Erron and put a hand on his shoulder. "Do try not to get too drunk. We would not want to have to find you sleeping in a mud wallow." She grinned a bit and started to move towards the long table they had just come from, having seen a rather large potato that looks decidely appetizing to her. "So where will you go next dear brother? I have not made any plans myself, and have no received any orders from our Father." Her large hand reached out grabbing the potato taking a small bite of the juicy meat that it consisted of. 

Erron looks mockingly aghast at her comment about his sobriety. "Too drunk? My dear sister we Wild Blades do not even know the word. I don't think Varnisian even has a phrase for something like that," he says with a big smile, following her to the tables as he looks around and is very pleased to see that his Legion and Farah's are getting along famously. They have started parceling off in smaller groups, trading stories, bragging (moreso on the part of his children than hers he takes note) and generally just enjoying the company of fellow Space Marines. Seeing the two Legions bonding in something other than warfare gives him pride and hope for the future of the Imperium, as when this Crusade is finished perhaps the Legions will find uses for their talents other than the constant bloodshed. 

He turns back to address Farah, shrugging at her question. "Nor I, Father has been a bit cryptic of late. Though I have heard rumblings of something very big being planned. A very large assualt that would most likely mean the collection of both our Legions, as well as that of our siblings. I don't know much in the details yet, but my Seers tell me their dreams have been filled with blood and fire more often than not."

A simple shake of the head was all Farah had in response to Erron's boasting of being able to drink so much. She finished off the potato licking her fingers clean of the juices that had coated her hand. "Well..." She stopped mid sentence and turned to look as there was a bit of arguing taking place between one of her daughters, and her brother's sons. She raised a single brow as one Wild Blade boasted to be a better warrior than the Sister, this quickly brought retribution in the form of a slug to the jaw that sent him sprawling. This was soon followed by laughter, and the two sharing a drink. Farah just shook her head and turned back to Erron patting the seat next to her. "I have not heard of such... Plans. Perhaps you have heard more than I." taking another sip she looks to the fire raging in the hearth, and stares for a long moment. "I do not take much precedence in Psykers unfortunately as it seems my Geneseed produces very few. Of my entire legion I have around forty Librarians in total." Farah was drinking, and when she drank it was easy for her to go off on a number tangent.

"Well if thats the case then your geneseed bears more than mine....There are only ten Seers among the Wild Blades, one for each Company. They serve more as moral guides and teachers than actual powerful psychic combatants, but their dreams often have a very unfortunate habit of coming true." He says as he takes the offered seat. The sudden ruckus nearby makes him turn his broad shoulders curiously, and then he bursts out into a fit of booming laughter as one of his Legionarries is floored by a blow from a Blazing Sister, the Wild Blades around them hooting and pointing at the downed Astartes, almost keeling over with laughter. The Wild Blade leaps to his feet, and Erron almost makes to rise to stop a confrontation from growing before he sees the man tilt his head back and laugh, clapping the warrior woman on the shoulder and linking his elbow in hers, draining their mugs of ale together. Erron smiles and relaxes back into his seat. 

As he gets more comfortable, suddenly a steady booming of bass drums sound, as well as a high pitched teetering of several wooden flutes as Erron recognizes an old and very common Varnisian drinking song starting to play. One of his Thanes, Lovar Kine leaps onto a table, his deep baritone voice accompanying the music as all around the Wild Blades start to clap and stomp their feet to the music. Some, the more daring, grab their cousin Astartes and begin to dance, twirling them around and laughing as the upbeat music echoes in the Longhouse.

As the celebrations began to get more excited , and the music started, Farah felt her foot tapping gently on the floor. She watched her daughters dance with their cousins enjoying this moment of respite from the constant drudgery of war. Farah set her mug down on the table, holding out her arm towards Erron, who immediately took her up on the offer of a dance. Tables were slid away and towards the walls to make room for everyone who was enjoying the revelry. Laughing with a rather large grin on her face Farah spun away from her brother for a moment dancing with one of his sons before finding herself back to moving in rythm(SP?) with him once more. "When the Imperium is whole, and the Galaxy at peace. What do you want to do brother? I am hoping to return to my planet and have the Mechancus terraform it, turning it into a lush paradise. We will hunt, and sing, and spend our the rest of our lives in joy, and sisterhood. Possibly let them put a treasure vault underground" She said, a smirk twiting at the corner of her smile.

Erron gave a big smile as he danced among his Legion and hers, the sounds of stomping feet and piping flutes filling the air. Her words at a mention of peace made his brow furrow however. "Peace...Honestly Farah I havn't thought about peace in a serious way in a long time. My hope is that there will be peace....but do you think that we could actually accomplish what our Father has laid out before us?" He asks, his voice a bit quieter so the other Astartes do not overhear, the conversation meant for just his sisters ears. 

"We are made for war....that much is certain. And we excel in it. I am afraid of a future where weapons like us may no longer be needed, and like a rusty sword we are set aside to whither away with the ages." He speaks again, slowly, the words making his heart sink a bit and gaze around at the glee filled faces of their warriors, imagining a time when the enemies of Mankind no longer requiered elite forces of Space Marines to conquer. "What would that mean for us then sister?"

For a long moment Farah didn't speak, she still smiled though thinking of a time after war, when she no longer had to fear her daughters being killed, when she no longer had to wonder what civilization they were going to slaughter next. "I believe in the Imperium, I believe in our father. I do believe we can accomplish what he has set before us and more. Look at what we have done is such a short time. The peace we have brought to so much of the Galaxy. Is it so hard to imagine?" 

A long moment went by where she said nothing else once more and finally stopped dancing to step back and take a drink from one of her daughter's hands and begin to sip at it. "The ones who came before us were tools for war. We are more than that brother. We are Astartes, we are capable of so much, yet we do not know it yet. I see the way your sons dance, and enjoy the music that is played. I heard my daughters sing, and I know there is more to us than just war. Yes we are warriors, but we are not tools."

"I know that Farah, and you know that, but does the rest of the Imperium know that?" Erron says, coming to stand beside her and just watch the festivities taking place, speaking privately with her. "Mortal men are not the same as us, they respect and fear us. Some with their feelings more on one side of that beam than the other. You've seen the way the Lord Generals and their officers act around you. They treat us like gods and royalty. And they see us as a necessary piece of this Crusade, for how many Imperial soldiers would die if not for our Legions? But in a world where the monsters in the dark are laid bare to the Emperors light.....will they begin to fear the monsters they created more than the ones at their door? Will they force us into exile, chains, or even death to avoid being conquered by the very weapons they built. Look back on our history, to the Iron Men. Mankind created machines to do their work and fighting, and they brought only war and death in the end. I am afraid that we may share that fate if there are no more enemies left for the Astartes to fight."

Taking a deep sip of her drink, that slowly turned into a gulp Farah stared at the far wall. "It does not matter what they think. It matters what our Father thinks. They will follow him, and his glory wherever he goes, whatever he commands, for he is the Emperor. Think not so little of humans, for while many may view us as gods, as we get to know them they will share and understanding that we not so different I think." She turned to look at Erron, and put her hands on both his shoulders. "I have a friend, my most dearest friend. Would you like to know who she is? She is a remembrancer that I have taken to have personally assigned to me." She turns her head and points to a corner of the longhouse where a human woman sat writing on paper while watching the festivities. "That is Lykinnia. She writes, about who we truly are brother, not what we are perceived to be. They will know we more than just machinations like the iron men, or blood thirsty beings like those that came before us. They will know our joy, our sadness, and our worth to this Galaxy."

Erron glances back at his sisters gesture, seeing the young woman busily writing, her fingers moving over paper as she tries to capture everything about the scene before her. His furrowed brow uncreases and he smiles, reassured by Farahs words. "Alas....perhaps I have drank too much after all," he says with a smile, returning his gaze to Farah and placing his hand on hers on his shoulder. "Forgive me sister, I did not mean to darken the mood with grim thoughts of a future that will never be. You are right. We may be warriors, but all warriors have a home among the peaceful." He grabs a passing tankard, raising it in a toast to Farah, "To peace, and the Emperors glory" he shouts.

Farah raises her mug, "To the Emperors glory!" she replies, the toast taken up by several Astartes close to them, then rippling down the hall in a steady roar as all of the collected warriors join in, drinking deep from their mugs and cheering. Erron drinks deep, swallowing the rest of the ale, smacking his lips with a loud sound as he sets down the empty mug. 


Farah grinned, and raised her mug high. "Sisters how about we sing a so-" but she didnt get to finish her sentence as the sound of bolter fire began to go off sporadically outside of the longhouse. She stared at the wall, everything was quiet again, no gun fire, no one shoutting. Till finally someone could be heard yelling [i]'What was that!?'[/i] it was the voice of one of the Astartes that had been standing guard. Farah's brows furrowed as she stepped down between a set of tables to stare at the door. Then shouting began and the sound of more Bolter fire began to grow louder, something was happening outside. "Daughters! Arm yourselves however you can!" She turned to look at Erron a look of confusion on her face. "What is happening?" 

The loud roar of Bolter fire made Errons hands instantly go to the hilts of his weapons, his gaze turning steely. "We are under attack!" He shouted, his Legion dropping their mugs and drawing their blades, the steel hissing against scabbards as they began to push toward the Longhouse door. Erron drew his sword and knife, holding the latter in a reverse grip along his forearm. "Farah, I believe we may have celebrated our victory a bit too soon," he says with a grim smile, "Do you have any of your weapons available?" 

The Wild Blades pushed out into the firelit darkness, their vision blurred from the sudden change in light but adapting quickly. Around them, the muzzle flashes of weapons flared up around the steady glow of the bonfires, and the few armored Blazing Sister and Wild Blades who were not joining in the festivities in full firing into the sky as dark winged shapes glided and hovered above the makeshift camp. 

Loud, ear piercing screetches puncuated the dark sky, and the massive shapes dove, insect like legs striking downward and piercing the flesh of the warriors on the ground, their screams mingling with the blood curdling calls of the monsters.

Nearby was a mallet that had been used earlier in the day for hammering in stakes in the ground, Farah grabbed it up, and looked to Erron her brows raising. "I have this."  She turned towards her daughters and raised the wooden tool. "Daughters! Grab weapons! Knives! Whatever you find! We go to battle!" She charged towards the door followed by the rest of her Astartes. Outside her armored daughters fired into the sky, tearing the creatures down and causing them to break as they hit the ground. More came across the ground though scuttling on long insect like legs. Farah lead the charge into them her mallet smashing through their chitinous armor as her powerful Primarch muscles made the hammer smash through the xenos exoskeleton.

Erron dashed out behind his sister, weapons flickering to life, coils of energy running down the blades as he give a beastial roar, leaping up in the air and landing on top of one of the scuttling, bat winged aliens. He dug his two blades into the back of the creature, twisting them, pulling and pushing as he tried to sever the spinal cord. The thick bones gave way with a snap, the ugly xenos crying out with a strangled screetch as its body fell lifeless beneath the Primarch. Erron stands, surveying the area around him. It would seem that their previous victory had been a feint, and the creatures had tricked him and Farah into relaxing their guard, waiting until the perfect moment to mount their counter attack. All around him he saw warriors snatching up weapons, some coming out with halfway donned armor, missing pauldrons or chest plates and greaves. The Sisters, save those standing vigil, were at more of a disadvantage it seemed, for at least his Legion always carried some type of bladed weapon on their person.

Farah took a step back from the battle, and just watched for a moment as more and more o fhte creatures were mowed out of the sky, and subsequently stabbed or beaten to death on the ground. "It's a last stand. They're desperate..." She turns to look at Erron. "This is all they have left! Look at them! How frantic they are!"  Luckily some of the sisters had managed to get off a vox message, and the sky suddenly filled with firepower as Fire Raptors zoomed above the battlefield their weapons tearing apart the xenox creatures that inhabited the planet. 

Erron stood by Farahs side, nodding. The creatures were diving and clawing at their warriors, unhindered by the losses they were taking. This WAS their last stand. They were throwing everything they had at the outpost, one last attempt to sever the head of the monster that came to claim their home. Erron almost pitied them, almost. 

"Keep up the fire Wild Blades! Tear them from the skies!" He shouted at the top of his lungs, smirking back at Farah with a wicked smile, the joy of battle over taking him, and gave another loud roar as he plunged forward, dashing towards the xenos. His sword flashed, gutting a creature across the midsection, slicing off a few of its thrashing limbs, and his knife drove upward, plunging under its jaw and into its skull, silenceing it. He twisted and pulling his knife out, kicking the dead monster aside, looking for fresh prey. He saw a squad of mixed Wild Blades and Blazing Sisters backed up against the side of one of the Longhouses, and charged forward to relieve them from the mass of aliens that slashed towards them.

The battle continued to rage even as Erron ran off ot help some of the Astartes who were pinned. Still though the battle was easily turning in their favor. Farah looked at one of the dead creatures near her and reached over grabbing two of the bladed limbs at the base near the body, with her muscles bulging she ripped the creature's legs off holding them up in the air and charged towards the next one to come at her. The bladed limbs slicing easily through the chitinous armor it had sending yellow stringy goop across the ground. The creatures were falling from the sky at a more rapid pace now as the Fire Raptors tore them to ribbons. The ones on the ground now flailing as they were brought under the merciless wrath of the Astarteson the ground. 

Erron carved into the backs of the xenos, slicing wings from their bodies, the Astartes against the wall pushing forward to hammer and slice the remaining as the Primarch turns their attention. Suddenly, out of the sky a massive gust of wind pushes the warriors, the force making some bend or fall to a knee. A black form thunders into the camp, the ground shuddering under its weight, even uglier and larger than the others. Fangs dripping with saliva, its black eyes angry and also fearful. Erron knew this was the leader, their Queen. He wrentched his blades from one of the fallen aliens, turning to face the new arrival. 

Walking slowly, pointing his forked tip sword at the Queen, he had a feral grin on his face, lips peeled back in a snarl. "This ends now foul beast....I'll have your skull mounted on my wall," he barked, the alien giving an ear piercing scream in reply, nearly popping his eardrums. With a roar Erron charged, the beast leaping forward, talons grasping and slicing the air seeking his flesh. One of the legs cut into his shoulder, blood welling up in the wound as his roar continued, and he jumped into the air. The massive creatures jaws opened, seeking to snap his body in half. Turning his sword and knife, he drives forward, both glittering tips plunging into its dark eyes and deep into the corrupted brain.

With the death of the creature, the rest of the giant xenos fell to the ground their bodies kicking, spinning, not dead but seemingly unable to act without guidance. "End them." Farah spoke aloud watching as the rest of the Astartes fall upon the squirming now mindless creatures. "Erron.. Some kind of celebrations you throw!" She sighed and looke down at her torn up toga her eyes closing. "And now i need some new clothes." She said with a growl. 

Erron picked up a discarded fur cloak, throwing it over his sisters shoulders after he had cleaned and sheathed his blades. "A fine party wasn't it? We were just about to run out of fun....thank the Emperor these xenos showed up to liven things up yes?" He said chuckling, the battle rage leaving him as he returned to his natural joking attitude.