Hidden 10 days ago Post by akula2ssn
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It is a cruel age. A restless age. An age when a single life carries little value. No place was this ever more true than on the Imperial world of Gelt. Located on the outskirts of the Cadian Sector, Gelt with its hive cities and manufacturums provided much of the war machines needed in the never ending struggle against the forces of Chaos. It has remained as part of the bulwark, the first line of defense of the Imperium against the ruinous powers housed within the Eye of Terror. The year 999 M. 41 was no different.

Following the Fall of Cadia and the opening of the Cicatrix Maledictum, the survivors and defenders of Cadia found themselves taking refuge on the world of Gelt. Unfortunately for them, Gelt proved to be no more welcoming than the Great Rift itself, for like all other Imperial worlds, life on Gelt was hard for the those outside the noble houses. Even without the constant wars against the xenos and the heretics, violence was part of daily life in the lower spires and the underhives. Gang wars that rivaled those on Necromunda we’re common place. In the upper spires, intrigue was a part of everyday life for the nobles as they plotted against each other for political and economic supremacy.

Athene looked down from the giant landing pad on the mid tier of the hive city of Proxima, the capitol of Gelt. The landing pad was large enough to accommodate a flight of Thunderhawk landing craft. It was one of several landing sites where the surviving defenders of Cadia and refugees were arriving from the fleet in high orbit. She was weary from the previous months of fighting. Her black sororitas power armor was covered in dirt, grime, and scratches. The red robes she wore were torn and stained. Her Goldwyn Diaz pattern bolt gun was in desperate need of an armorer, but for the time being, the regular field stripping and cleaning kept it combat ready.

“Elohiem,” called a voice from behind her.

Athene didn’t need to turn to know who it was. Sister Caroline had been Athene’s second for years. They were novitiates together and were both orphans of Cadia. “Yes, sister,” Athene replied.

Caroline stopped next to Athene and looked out at the landscape before them. Below them, the smog choked lower tiers of the spire and the industrial fields surrounding the hive stretched out as far as the eye could see. The dregs of society and worse resided within that toxic miasma. “The squad has disembarked from the shuttle. Abott Trelane has said that we are to remain here while the local convent makes arrangements to transport and berthing arrangements,” Caroline said.

Athene nodded. No doubt word of the fleet’s arrival travelled slowly through the local bureaucracy of the Administratum. Otherwise such arrangements would already have been in place. She looked up at the sky as the faint glow of the Great Rift. For now they would wait. Just as the world of Gelt awaited whatever fate had in store for it.
Hidden 9 days ago 8 days ago Post by Steel Legion
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53rd Havelock Brutalists


Trooper Farrell



The column of troopers was marching ten deep down the colonnade street in parade formation. Their massed footmarch created a somewhat reassuring thrum that echoed off of the walls. At various points along the street onloockers had gathered; small children, beggers, lepers and the like. All were shabbily dressed in drity thread-worn clothes and all had various facial expressions ranging from curiosity to fear. These sights, the destroyed vehicles at the sides of streets and the collapsed buildings did not worry the 53rd, partly because they trusted in their weapons, which they were told to keep loaded and ready.

It was a move, completely unscripted. The Commissioner Colonel had ordered his entire regiment to begin marching in the morning and by midday they had reached the underhive. On either side all was decay and erosion... not just of buildings, but moral erosion. Trooper Farrell didnt like the underhive. Not only was it a place hed hoped hed never see, but also a place he'd hoped he wouldnt have to stay for too long... but, it looked like he wouldnt get to see his wish. This didnt scare him, infact he enjoyed it. It was simply a challange set in front. A bump to be negotiated in the process of life. He was, afterall, a warrior caste and used to such things. He did, however wonder what "Fighting Man" had in his intention of dragging them all here.

It was most likely because he didnt want them going soft after the victory over the orkoid migration, yes, that had to be it. Or maybe they were just there to clean out a particular menace to the planetary governor, just as a favour like? Yeah, there could be many reasons theyd been dragged down here. He listened to the squeel and squeek of heavy machinery in front. The coloumn was being led by 3 chimera, some of the precious few that they had managed to preserve after the previous war. Every now and then they would barge a vehicle off the road with their dozer blades. Some guardsmen might find this frightening, thought Farrell. However ive been frightened by experts, and these arnt experts.
Hidden 8 days ago 8 days ago Post by akula2ssn
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The room was grand and opulent. Chandeliers from finest craftsmen on Holy Terra adorned the vaulted ceiling. The aroma of various dishes filled the air along with soft music from a live orchestra. A long heavy ornate dark wood serving table was sprawling with silver dishes. Each contained one of many local delicacies including some from across the Imperium. The room was filled with people dressed extravagantly, and conversing in tones ranging from hushed and discrete, to full and pronounced as if to put on a show to the rest of the room. Among the many socialites was a stern looking man. He was slender, and middle aged in appearance though for many people in such levels of society looks were deceiving. He wore the robes of the Adeptus Ministorum. face was narrow, and he had a prominent nose that was also narrow. Dark piercing brown eyes took in his surroundings like a raven. He wore a number of large jewel encrusted rings, but most prominent was a large gold signet ring which bore the symbol of the Diocese of Gelt. His name was Cardinal Frollo, the leading official of the Ministorum not just on Gelt but in the entire system. He was arguably the most powerful person on the planet, even compared to Lord Reinhardt, the planetary governor. Frollo was outwardly deferent to Reinhardt, but anyone who understood the depth and intricacies of the planetary politics understood that Frollo had the more commanding presence. For all his bravado and ambition, Rienhardt was not politically savvy.

Frollo frowned as he saw Deacon Corbin entered the reception hall of the governor's palace. The Deacon looked lost as he looked around the crowd. When the Deacon spotted Frollo, he rushed over to the Cardinal who was taking a sip of amasec. "My Lord," the Deacon said.

Frollo nodded casually to him. "What brings you to the Lord Reinhardt's estate?" he said calmly.

The Deacon seemed winded, like he had run all the way from the grand cathedral. Of course, Frollo knew this was not so. The Deacon was an aging man who lived a largely sedentary life, even by the standards of the nobility of the upper spire. Frollo handed the Deacon a glass of cool water and the Deacon took it gladly and took a long pull on it as he caught his breath. The other guests glanced amusedly at the exchange, which further Frollo's reputation as a calm and stoic leader who was always in command of the situation even when chaos and confusion existed among his subordinates. "My Lord," the Deacon said as his breathing finally slowed. "The first group of troops from the Order of Our Martyred Lady have landed from the evacuation fleet of Cadia." Frollo looked quietly at the Deacon without any expression, clearly knowing that there was more. When there was no response from Frollo, the Deacon continued nervously. "The entire evacuation fleet has arrived, but no arrangements have been made for housing any of the Order's forces. It would see that..."

Frollo raised a hand to cut off the deacon. He didn't need any explanation. He knew the ins and outs of the planetary bureaucracy's shortcomings. However, Frollo also knew how much influence the Imperial Church, and by extension he had. “I will speak with the various noble houses here to solicit their…donations to the Ministorum and its holy warriors,” he said. All the great houses would do anything to gain favor with the Imperial Church. Especially if any of them harbored any desire to gain the governorship. Furthermore, he could deduct any assistance from their annual tithe to the church. Perhaps he would even reach out to Colonel Canute. The 53rd was not a native regiment and thus untouched by the local politics. The Deacon was about to say something when Frollo cut him off. "You may go," he said to the Deacon. "Inform that canoness that there will be quarter for her sisters shortly."
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Hidden 7 days ago 6 days ago Post by Steel Legion
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53rd Havelock Brutalists


Trooper Farrell



[19:00 Hours]

Trooper Farrell trudged through the dusty vehicle park where several "Drastics"* had been vehicle pooled. In the background there were several troopers huddling round a ration-lamp warming their food and there was a vehicle radio left on.

The floor was made dusty from the promethium gaslights that lit the courtyard. Farrell looked up and several of the overhead pipes and ducts had several imperial Aquila flags hanging from them, some were being newly installed by a group of 53rd Troopers. The fighting had been sporadic and unpredictable. The cult that ran the place had taken over the promethium junction control some years ago. However the victory almost seemed trite, most of the leadership had moved out along with most of their equipment leaving only a token force of their bravest and stupidest and most suicidal followers. Farrell walked into the red brick promethium junction control bunker to deliver his message to the brass and crossed through the open blast doors that were flanked either side by grenadiers with Lucious pattern lasguns, the sentries were still but their eyes flicked back and forth surveying all who entered the building. He took a right turn down a hallway with the grease stain on the wall, several attendants and batmen were busy bringing in equipment such as maps and radio cases to be checked over, one such wore a slate monotron on his left arm while others carried clipboards. He eventually found the room the officers were in.

The two door guards eyed him up and he entered. One had a Lucious and the other had a Plasmagun. They seemed to recognize him and he entered wordlessly. He could see that their pressure helmets lenses were lit up blue, most likely with intel on himself from the HUD. A young man with blonde hair came up to him with a clipboard, the name-patch on his jacket said "Trooper Keen". He spoke lazily "state your name and business."

"Trooper Farrell, squad seven, come to deliver intel recovered from enemy leader."

Keen just looked down on his clipboard and made a tick with his pencil. "Right, report to your L-T."

Farrell clicked his heels toghether as he stood to attention, then departed. On a small wooden desk on the left side was his Lieutenant: Douglas Orr who was reading something while a few other attendants and sergeants buzzed around him. In the middle of the room he caught a glimpse of "Fighting Man" himself, he was giving a speech to a few commissioned officers. He strained his ears to catch what was being said by his deep voice.

"... which is precisely why we need Duct B hubwards up and running and any shrines cleared out, with the emphasis on pacification..."

Then he looked back to Lieutennant Orr who was now sat up and looking at him. He moved off towards the L-T.

"Lets have it lad." Said Lieutennant Orr

"Trooper Farrell, squad seven. We just cleared out the east wing, minimal resistance, recovered this intel."

He reached into his ammunition pocket and took out a largeish velum tome. It appeared to have been made out of human skin. Rather disgustingly the user seemed to have collected one of every race he could find. The Lieutennant let two beats pass before he took it. He quickly dropped it on his desk with the tip of his fingers and then took a deep sigh. "Dismissed"

Farrell felt like a weight had been lifted from his heart and nearly skipped away.

Hidden 6 days ago 6 days ago Post by Steel Legion
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A strange noble indeed


Terrance Allsinger



[19:00 Hours]

Terrance was listing badly as he walked up the cobblestone street somewhere upper hive. He giggled to himself as it seemed like the pavement was weaving too and frow underneath foot, but he knew it was just him. He'd drunk his fair share of amasec tonight and was now having trouble keeping up with Stannek and the rest of them. Stannek was talking:

"... and then we'll hit the den up in highloft and drink all their best amasec, and to round out the night we'll get some joygirls, i hear from my brother that they have new Cadian girls!! Fwoor, lets see if Cadia has royalty!!"

Lancelot who was still managing to keep up with Stannek despite his rotund nature let out a coo of excitement.

Terrance smiled weakly "i hope you arnt going to take all the good ones, like last time Stannek..."

"Well that depends on if i get there first, ComeOoon!" Said Stannek as he took out his snuff box and deposited a small amount on his wrist-thumb before snorting it.

Just then Terrance looked upon what seemed to be a small pile on the street. His mind slowly built the picture of what he was seeing.



It was an old man. Injured and sitting by the streetside on some form of cart. The man, who was half asleep just sat there, and saluted Terrance. He didnt ask for anything, he didnt speak he just looked. His bandages looked brown and sodden.

Tears welled up and Terrance began to sob and sob and sob, he realised he was standing still.

Then he felt Stannek tug at his shoulder. "ComeOon, whats this? Crying? Dont be a BORE Allsinger! Throne!... How about we get you some kalma when we're at the den?"

Terrance regained his composure "yes, some kalma must be what i need... sorry."

As he ambled on his mind began playing a song, as it always did when he was stressed.

The Song
Hidden 4 days ago Post by akula2ssn
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Athene chafed at the reality of the situation they were in. The unfortunate reality of was that despite the best efforts of Canoness Joan, the offloading of the refugee ships was completely uncoordinated. The Astra Militarum had seen to the needs of the Cadian regiments that were being transported, and by extension the Cadian refugees. However, the Adepta Sororitas did not factor into the plans of the Administratum. The reality is that no arrangements had been made for the disposition of the Sororitas, and word of their impending arrival had not been passed from the Administratum to the local convent. The intervention on their behalf by Cardinal Frollo had at least secured quarter for the sisters, but the logistics of moving them there was a whole other matter. The Imperial Navy was sorely needed elsewhere, and their ship captains were under strict orders to offload their charge as expeditiously as possible. This meant that many of the sisterhoods forces were scattered. Some units were able to take room on shuttles with the Cadian regiments when space allowed. Others, such as Athene's were randomly loaded in shuttles, with the only known destination being the planet surface.

She looked at the tram operator and gave him 2 Imperial crowns. The man's eyes lit up more than a little surprised. Strictly speaking, Athene was not required to pay the man. The gratitude of the Sisterhood and the Imperial church was payment enough, but Athene knew that life of the working class of the Imperium was difficult enough as it was. Mankind must suffer so that mankind may survive. They had traveled as far as the tram physically could. Now they would travel on foot along the cobblestone streets and walkways toward the Imperial Guard reserve barracks where they would be temporarily house.

As Athene and her squad made their way down the streets, they drew more than a passing glance from the locals. The Sisters of Battle were a rare sight to most in the Imperium. The only thing more rare to see would be the warriors of the Adeptus Astartes. They remained in close formation so as not to get separated. Around them, they could hear the sounds of the local night life as the remnants of the light following sunset faded. The only glow left in the sky was the pinkish purple glow of the great rift. It was a powerful sight, and one that had driven many towards piety, and just as many toward debauchery and hedonism or worse.
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