The Imagination — Roleplayer Guild

~ Warhammer 40,000; Vigil ~

The Alisae System, Vigil's Orbit...

"Vigil...it's namesake held true to the end...are the fleets organized and in position?"

"Yes, mi'lord."

"Excellent...let us show them how stubborn the Imperium truly is."

The designated Alpha, Beta and Omega fleets had positioned neatly above a gargantuan garden world. This world was bristling with hive cities, Imperial fortresses, and some of the most advanced laboratories and factories unknown to the galaxy. It was soon to be bristling with a terrified population of nine hundred billion souls under the crushing weight of war and despair.

"I rather enjoy the view of the Viridian Oceans from here...it's a breathtaking sight..."

"What about that sight...?"

Storming en masse was an encroaching horde of chaotic battleships. Outnumbering the fleets three to one, no two forces waisted time starting the war. Lord Admiral Stauffenberg immediately ordered the sacrifice of the Alpha Fleets, ordering them to push forward so that Beta's battleships could form a more sturdy and defensive line. As broadside cannons obliterated ships on both sides, the Alpha Fleets effectively pushed forward and spread out in front of the remaining fleets.

Practically a temporary shield, Alpha neglected to actively provide Beta's outline with clear firing lanes. Within minutes the opposing forces of Khornate battle barges punched a hole through the shield. The plan appeared to halfway work, however, as the fortified lines of twelve Vengeance-class battleships proceeded to bombard Khorne's greedy battle barges back into their lines. It may have been all for nought, however, as the unexpected always happens. From out the lines of thousands of barges came forth a space hulk of completely unknown design. Every clear inch of the massive ship was adorned in the bones of every species in the galaxy and beyond, foreign skulls lining the trim of cannons and engines alike. What exactly it was capable of was unforeseen by everyone, even Champion Kargan behind it's wheel.

The first three laser salvos effectively annihilated eight of the twelve battleships on Beta's line, wiping out several heavy and battle cruisers in the process. Grand cruisers attempted to plug the hole, only to be met face to face with a terrifying sight. Seven more space hulks rushed from behind Nurgle's line of barges. Bulbous spores and nauseating gases spewed from these hulks as they crashed head on with Beta Fleet's position. One hulk embedded itself within another battleship, locking them into a boarding conflict situation. The remaining six had built up enough momentum to set a direct course on the planet.

Lord Admiral Stauffenberg, utterly speechless, calmly walked the length of the bridge. As a courier servant approached him, he whispered a solemn statement in his ear, and the courier was on his way. Soon Lord Commander Deltrov would be planetside, and the true fight for Vigil would begin. He wasn't about to give up the Orbital Front, however, and continued to order the large number of ships in Omega's fleet to spread out and give 'em hell. For the following three months Lord Admiral Stauffenberg's abilities would keep the bulk of the Omega Fleet and what remained of the Alpha and Beta Fleets fighting. They would refuse surrender or defeat at all costs.

Meanwhile, chaos of course ensued within the Skull Throne. Khorne's Chosen Champion, Leonothas Kargan, stood at the forefront of the bridge. A heretical admiral stood before him, a wicked frown beguiling him.

"The wretched things, how dare they defile the Pact's regulations! We were to be the ones to land first upon Vigil, not those putrid puss bags! I say we follow suit...quickly! Glory can still be ours if we act fast!" The admiral cursed and shouted.

Normally one would assume Kargan to be perfectly tactical and collected in such a position. If he indeed partook in such recklessness and failed, it would be considered an embarrassment to military command anywhere and everywhere, and to his master most importantly. However, the Admiral's foolish words held some semblance of truth. The Ruinous Pact agreed on very specific terms just outside the Alisae Sector before battle, their plans precise. Still, in hindsight Lord Fel acted accordingly, if not boldly. A hole was made, and an opportunity sought. Witnessing the Imperial fleets strategically moving into more spread out positions, stabilizing the flow of battle, the admiral seemingly changed his opinion.

"Ahck! The fools. Clearly I see now the throne must be held here, to preserve the tide of battle. I will stay my position, mi'lord, and join with you on the fields of glory once these Imperial space dogs are taken care of." He placed a firm hand on the towering man's forearm. "May the blood of your enemies wash upon your face, and their skulls shatter amongst yours."

The Ruinous Pact had indeed set very specific rules for the battle plan, although nothing ever goes to plan. With Lord Fel already setting foot on Vigil, Kargan contacted Champion Daul and the prophet, Malignus. They would have to make a run past the fleets to join Fel quickly, or assume defeat for Nurgle's unreinforced front. A backup plan was put into motion, as the Skull Throne proceeded to waist precious ammunition in denting the fleets line, distracting them long enough to send a suicidal force of a couple thousand barges toward the planet's atmosphere. After nearly half the invasion force was decimated, as expected, the surviving forces carrying the bulk of reinforcements arrived. Within moments had thousands upon thousands of traitorous guardsmen and heretical space marines unleashed themselves on Vigil. The ground war was set in stone.

~
The Alisae Sector, the Asteroid Belt of Agrosh...

There is always a silence...a calm before the storm. An admiral stood at the head of his grand army, looking for long into the rocky abyss that had stained an empty blackness within his mind. That empty blackness was an unfilled part of him, a part that so often required violence and destruction to make him whole, much like the rest of his species. Of course, this man was not quite like the rest of his kind...he could tolerate a concept such as patience.

When it came time for the two forces to collide, it was a sight like no other. A flowing tidal wave of space hulks clashed with their ultimate foe, the collective hive fleets of countless Tyranids. They practically overwhelmed each other until they ended up on the opposite sides of the conflict, successively turning around and proceeding to overwhelm each other once more. It was enough that the Tyranids had not anticipated a force nearly as large as their own, and with the strategic capability behind it. The Orks were effectively training the hive fleets to inch ever closer toward a ground war, the closest planet beyond the asteroid belt being Vigil itself. The admiral simply could not let such an opportunity pass to prove to the galaxy the sheer power and identity of his newfound empire.

~
Planet Vigil, the Southern Glacial Islands...

"A darkness will awaken..."

The Dagger of O'Shi'ur rested upon a glacial summit's plateau, as if some sovereign observer to the chaos at hand. The Ethereals brought Commander O'Shi'ur and his forces to Vigil for a reason, a reason known only to their high command at the current moment. Initial objectives were to set a forward operating base, expand scouting operations and find an artifact known as the Pillar of Enlightenment. It was an unknown situation with unknown expectations, and setting out on a mission with very classified and limited information was certainly bothersome amongst the men.

Another unanticipated threat, even to high command, awaited beneath them however. A cryptic force gathered below the unnaturally formed glaciers, soon to fully awaken their collective armies to unleash armageddon.

-- Two months later...

Operation October Rain...

"My Lord...it has begun."

A smog of spores and plaguing gases hovered like clouds over the Eastern Continent, making it almost completely inaccessible without proper gear or surrendering your soul. Lord Fel observed the unfolding situation, possibly contempt at the paradise he forged for his father. Vigil would become a vessel for the Plague Gardens, in fact it would not be farsighted to believe it possible to incarnate Nurgh-leth himself upon the soil of reality. Fel's accomplishments were capable of things beyond mortal comprehension. Yet still they resisted.

Storming legions of Death Korps troopers fought their way through the outer hive cities, encroaching on his throne. Reports of Armageddon Steel Legionaries passing out gas masks to unplagued civilians are on the rise, they had continuously defied Nurgle his children. Resistance would be met with death and decay, surely.

Meanwhile, a dying commander lay in the arms of a fellow comrade. The Rune Lord could do nothing for the Lord Commander's injuries. A chain ax had cleaved through his left leg and abdomen, bleeding out was only a matter of short time. In his dying, bloodied breath, the commander of all imperial forces relinquished his duties to that of Kurn Wolfstalon. A new Lord Commander? An Adeptus Astartes now in full control of the Imperium's military...it was a lot to put on one man.

Kargan's forces continued pushing forward, berserkers tearing up the line. The men, even Commissars retreated without orders. Wolfstalon and Kargan locked eyes briefly before the latter would be on his way to reorganize his forces. The operation, while more successful than imagined, left the Lord Commander dead and Fort Orion in the hands of Chaos. Even in short lived victories, the grim darkness of war follows...

~
The Southern Glacial Battlefields...

"For the Greater Good...brother."

Lasers and photons and plasma bursts echoed and fired all around the surrounding environment. Two unlucky pathfinders found themselves pinned down under the diminishing cover of thick ice sheets. The enemy that had revealed itself was one rather uncommonly fought by the Tau, the Necron Dynasties.

They came forth from demolished sinkholes in the glacial islands, marching out as if sovereign dictators come to cleanse the world of impurity. Thankfully they had yet to storm any significant fortified positions, yet the situation for the pathfinders was growing dire.

One of them took off his helmet, staring right into the eyes of his comrade. "Our communications are shot...one of us has to survive and warn the bulk forces..."

"Well than what are you waiting for?! I'll cover you!"

"No, brother. I am almost out of ammunition, chances are you'll need yours to fight your way through. We've only got this one chance...do not fail me."

And he wouldn't. A lone pathfinder running through the harsh and empty cold of the snow, a blizzard storming by to halt his progression. He figured he was not running for his life, but the life of his comrades. Three days into the blizzard and the pathfinder found himself on the verge of death and defeat, until the beautiful golden sight of the Dagger was before him. On his own he marched up the plateau, collapsing on his knees in front of the commander. His throat was coarse, his mouth dry. A subtle, vibrating sentence forced out through his lips before his untimely death.

"They're coming..."

As the FOB attempted contact with smaller positions and scouting troops, they realized that something indeed was coming. Slowly surrounding their position would be armies of Necrons, hoping to use the southern continents as their forward fronts. The severity of the mission was still at hand, with limited options available. They would obviously have to pack up and move positions, but where? It seemed like no place was safe on Vigil.

~
The Equator Trenches, Four days after Operation October Rain...

"What in the bloody hell is th-...oh my god..."

The sound hit the guardsmen like a freight train wreck. The screeching, wailing, moaning and bending of metal as it fell from orbit nearly deafened the more sensitive of troopers. A space hulk, with what appeared to be a Tyranid ship embedded in it, fell like two graceful gods battling each other into the ground. The sheer impact force wiped out the entirety of guards stationed in the trenches, and out from the wreckage poured countless Orks and Tyranids fighting to take their position. And while battling like tidal waves of oceans clashing against one another, the Orks still showed a tactical superiority over their enemy. The two massive forces, never once ceasing fire since the beginning, had finally brought their battle to Vigil.

~
The Day of Reckoning, The Prophecy's Conclusion...
0100 Hours...

"There's something about this planet...something that could save us...or annihilate us..."

In the waning moments of the battle for the Orbital Front, Lord Admiral Stauffenberg sent very classified information to a rogue trader hiding from all the commotion in the Alisae Sector. Information known only to the High Lords of Terra and the surviving Primarchs. It included descriptions of a fortress monastery on Vigil and the subsequent declassification, redaction and expungement of any further data. Whether or not this rogue trader would comply to her duties to Humanity was in question, but the Lord Admiral had faith. He was the one who appointed her, after all.

It was the mark of the fifth month of war, the first day of the twentieth year of the 42nd Millennium. What remained of the Omega Fleets had finally exhausted all ammunition, their unstable supply line to Vigil finally shattered by Kargan's forces. With ships exploding all around the Valiance, dozens of men shouted at Stauffenberg, demanding orders.

Some ships diverted back to the planet, others crumbling under fire as they demanded the next course of action. He elegantly marched the bridge's length to the observation deck, ordering all communications be shut off from the rest of the fleet.

"Pilot, what's your name."

"D-dimitri, mi'lord."

"Full speed ahead, Dimitri. We have one salvo left, let's give it to them."

"B-but, sir...all ammunitions reserves have been exhausted."

"I said one salvo left, pilot." The admiral tapped his cane twice onto the floor of the deck while darting his eyes in a gesturing manner across the room. "Full speed ahead...set a direct course for that ship." He commanded, pointing to the Skull Throne.

Brother Arkos Leantes of the Maccrage 1st Company found himself in the odd position of receiving a direct comm line to the Lord Admiral whilst in the middle of a firefight between a patrol of Thousand Suns marines.

"-Expect a passenger to arrive at these forwarded coordinates within the next oh-nine hundred. Escort them to their destination at all costs. Lord Admiral Stauffenberg...out."

~
0400 Hours...

A lone trooper fighting in the north-western fronts had happened to gaze upon the early morning skies, witnessing the Skull Throne clamoring down upon the world with all of its bearing might. On it's left broadside lay countless shredded holes and dents with shattered bone fragments chipping away. Flames drew pillowing smoke from the wounds as it maneuvered a less than honorable landing. As the bay doors opened, out marched legions of Khornate daemonspawn.

"With haste, the altar must be constructed to perfection." Bellowed a ginormous bloodthirster, cracking his whip at his lesser kin. "We must ensure Lord Kargan survives, our Master declares it. The Gate to his Lair will become our ultimate achievement."

-

Lord Fel sat upon a throne made of gold, decorated with dead flower pedals, tangled vines stretching along it's base and putrid spores emanating from mushrooms growing out through cracks in the stone. Before him lay a conquest, a planet to be crafted in his image.

At the center of the city of Vahl, standing adjacent to the throne, was an archway connecting to a seemingly new dimension. On the other side one could see a garden overwhelmed with decay, and out from it came legions of daemons loyally serving Fel. When the time was right and he was called, he would pass through the archway to receive the ultimate gift.

-

Rune Lord, or newly appointed Lord Commander, Wolfstalon stood watch at Fort Tiberon. Behind him lay a significant force of the Imperium, men and women ready to die for a cause. It was up to him to give them that cause, for encroaching forces of Chaos Undivided with rumors of Tyranids threatened them on all sides. Luckily, Fort Tiberon was built to combat such an assault.

Apparently Brother Arkos Leantes, along with a large group of space marines, had been en route to Fort Tiberon. An important package he was to escort was intended to arrive there, and he wasn't about to be late to such an appointment.

-

The three Equatorial Continents had served as landing zones for both Tyranid and Ork forces. As snotlings finish constructing a relatively crude forward position, fellow kin soon begin shaping up and handing off lazily done Imperial salutes to a figure marching before them. The Grand Admarul was a symbol to their kind. A sovereign god, almost, were it not for their devotions to Gork and Mork.

In front of him were armies to be defeated, and he was set on those goals.

-

The Dagger of O'Shi'ur had been primed and ready to go for some time, but issues had been present. Issues no doubt frustrating to the commander and his men.

Number one, they still had a destination to choose. Retreat was not an option, but only two choices presented themselves. A land mass dozens of miles north had dense foliage and heavy amounts of flora, or a desert even further north layered with dunes and canyons. And number two, they still had a force of one hundred pathfinders in the field unaccounted for. The choices had been the Commanders to make, but the consequences for choosing the wrong one could be dire.

-

It is a grim moment in the 42nd Millennium. Five long months of brutal warfare have brought nine unbeknownst individuals spiritually together on a path toward the galaxy's greatest kept secrets. With sightings of surviving Primarchs both heretical and loyal across the planet, coupled with the disappearances of Lord Daul and the prophet Malignus, the construction of altars dedicated to the Ruinous Powers, and a full scale invasion of a Necron dynasty...well, stranger things are yet to come.

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