Heresy28--Ascension: Event Report
Nurthariun and Artorius, Custodian Guard to the Emperor of Mankind,
were waiting. Four cycles of dead air and chirping beetles, trapped beneath the
endless canopies of Arlyss VI, the most barren of the seven forest moons in the
system—no fauna larger than an inch, no sentient flora, no populace—nothing.
They watched as the skies turned from green to purple, they waited for their
trusted allies, the Anthema Psykana, the Sisters of Silence, to return from
their conference with their Soulless Queen, Jenetia Krole, atop the mountain.
Four days, then
four more. Thanks to their transhuman biology, the pair didn’t sleep, engaged in
sparring, philosophising and chides. That was until, on that eighth day,
Artorius noticed the horizon, despite the cold, was beginning to shimmer. And
out of that shimmer poured a fleet of Kharon Pattern Acquisitors—the dread
craft of the Sisters of Silence, black and imperceptible like oil spills. They
landed close by, disgorging Theadia and the other Sisters the pair had become
so-well acquainted with during the Nammu IV skirmishes.
But with them,
appeared a surprise—another of the Custodian’s brethren—Isakain Torell, taler
than both Nurthariun and Artorius. This newcomer was such a surprise that the
pair did not notice Jenetia Krole standing beside him. As a psychic null, she
was near-invisible, her body glancing off the eye of anyone who tried to look
too hard. But as she grew comfortable and confident with her company, she let
the guise drop, and the Custodian Guard kneeled.
‘I’m sorry to
keep you waiting,’ Isakain spoke through his helm, translating Krole’s
thoughtmark. ‘But you’ll be pleased to know that we have come to an
understanding of these… Nammu Cubes in our days of discussion.’ A pause. ‘I’ve
been led to believe that there are a number of Blackshield Operatives in possession
of these artefacts, no?’
‘Yes,’
Nurthariun nodded, unsure of who to address. Usually, he would translate
thoughtmark quite fluently, but Krole’s movements were swift, and concentrating
on her for too long gave him eye-strain. ‘We believe they have uses for them
that could change the direction of the war.’
‘In whose favour?’
‘With respect, Commander—we aren’t
sure.’
Isakain groaned. ‘We have intelligence
to believe they’re nearing an Imperial cathedral on Wyeria Beta. We have sent a
force of The Praetorian’s own men to defend it and retrieve the lost artefacts.’
Artorius couldn’t help himself. He
trained his eyes on Krole. ‘Wyeria Beta?’
‘I did not misspeak, Custodian.’
Artorius nodded, swallowing hard. ‘Traitor
Mechanicum scrapcode has delayed communications from that Sector, Commander. But
we received word from Malcador’s agents that—’
‘That what?’
‘Peturabo… the Fourth…’
Krole signed, and they all understood.
It’s a trap.
Meanwhile, on Wyeria Beta:
From the rolling night, the IV emerged, drenched in machine oil and the ashes of Olympia. Alongside them, scores of automata, traitor Mechanicum. And in the distance, through the fog, the rumblings of larger, more terrible constructs.
The Imperial Fists braced. Across the ruins, the Blackshields stood, patient, one eye on the IV in the distance, the other on the VII. From the brief skirmish between Dorn’s men and the Blackshields, the Nammu Cubes had been scattered across the rubble, ready for the taking by the Iron Warriors. Plutarch of the VII calculated—they had six minutes until the traitors arrived. Six minutes to make a decision: die here fighting one-another or take a stand against Horus’ rebellion.
“War is a strange mistress. Informed of the arrival of an Iron
Warrior Great Company allied with a rival Forge World, Magos Prime Zo’rya
obtained from the Imperial Fists, and in turn, the Emperor’s Talons, an
Imperial Forgiveness, for both her and Paimon-Golgotha’s Blackshields.
Combining extensive techno-esoteric knowledge with brutal manpower, the
terrible truth remained that the Throne could hardly be picky in the dark times
of Horus’ betrayal. So it was that they became agents of the Throne, always
under suspicion but too precious to be eliminated for treason… at least for
now.” (Credit: @seneschal_werhner)
Iron Warriors muster |
Traitor Mechanicum approach the Nammu cubes |
Imperial Fists strike against the Mechanicum |
“Torrents of smoke blight the ruins of the basilica. The stink of
transhuman blood, Mechanicum synth-fluid and the prickling acrid taste of
psychic residue. Blackshield Krend's hulking form marches amongst the
devastation, wheezing and huffing, his dexterous servo-surgeons deftly removing
fourth legion Geneseed every time he paused. His attendant apothecaries and
clone-chirgueons following closely, collecting the cryo sealed spoils of war.
His eyes meet the battered yellow figures also stalking amongst the ruins,
their armour bloodied and scarred. He catches the gaze of their Praetor and
offers and old Unification Wars salute, slamming his closed fist against his
chest.
A tense moment, as his counterpart pauses, and is broken as the yellow clad Praetor responds in kind. Krend's ruined visage twists into a grin and he returns to the bloody harvest.” (Credit: @k0rdhal)
The Blackshields arrive to support the loyalists |
Arlyss VI:
It seemed obvious, the decision to return to Terra, to leave the
VII to hold the line against Perturabo’s men. Krole and the Custodians had come
to this silent agreement within a matter of seconds. What artefacts they had
recovered would be in safe hands on Luna and in the Emperor’s laboratories.
Without a word or gesture, the Talons of the Emperor began the return to their
craft.
What wasn’t obvious
was the attack which followed. A small fleet of battle cruisers translated
above the moon. Within the hour, and before the Talons could meaningfully mobilise,
the XVth had made planetfall. Vengeance for Prospero. Vengeance for Magnus.
The Thousand Sons had arrived.
Silent and imperceptible, the Kharon Pattern Acquisitors |
Jenetia Krole leads her Raptor Guard into certain danger |
Krole and her
surviving Sisters, alongside the scarce Custodian Guard, had made quick work of
the traitor psykers, but at the cost of a significant number of both troops and
their entire stock of prized artefacts. The threat of the Thousand Sons still
crept, insidious and ghostlike, across the moon as they shifted back to their
cruisers.
‘We return to
Terra at once,’ Artorius said, nursing a glancing Thunder Hammer blow to his
shoulder. ‘We’re outnumbered, outgunned. We need to shake them.’
Krole shook her
head. She signed, No. Terra remains two weeks away, and we have nothing to
show for our efforts.
‘Then what do
you suggest, Commander?’
A gambit. She
paused. To reclaim what we’ve lost. What we’ve left behind.
Wyeria Beta:
“+++ Plutarch
muttered a Terran curse inside his mask. The area was covered in traitors
rushing the ruins and long range vox was already down. A loud bang was followed
by shouts and smoke inside the Spartan. Red lights turned on and Galdus’ voice
came over the speakers.
“My lord Plutarch - we are disabled,
driver is KIA, hold o–” A sound of impossibly loud laser beam was heard outside
of the hull.
He could tell Helios’ machine spirit
was angry and it had overloaded the lascannon arrays.
“Traitor tank kill confirmed my lord,
4th legion.”
“Galdus, we continue on foot. Stay
with the Helios, hurt them.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Plutarch punched the assault ramps
switch and charged outside into hell with his retinue. Running along the
debris, he saw that the traitors of the 4th were close by, with the Mechanicum
bastards sided with them all over the battlefield. The traitor Knight, quickly
proving the main problem, was cutting down loyalist forces everywhere,
venerable Ripanus’ body crushed underneath its feet. He tried the vox to reach
Lucius Cassius but could only hear pieces of his message. “....eft
fla…holdi…..ound….nicum scrapco….”
Scrapcode.
He hoped their Mechanicum allies were
doing something about it. Where was the Custodes support?
And then their eyes locked with the
axeman across the field. His mission was to control the ruined cathedral. The
axeman was between him and it.
Gripping his sword, he started running.” (Credit: @sinan_atamer)
The defences of the Imperial Fists are swarmed by Iron Warriors |
Mechanicum Automata prove resilient against bolter fire |
The arrival of the traitor Knight begins to swing the fight in the Iron Warrior's favour as they capture more Nammu cubes |
Blackshields engage the Mechanicum |
The cathedral of Wyeria Beta was shrouded in endless night, tidally
locked to, and thus, endlessly facing away from its host sun. Before the
Crusade, the pilgrims who had once scaled these mountains had never known day.
The slaves and servitors who had constructed the cathedral, stone by stone, wire
panel by wire panel, had never known day. The Imperial Fists, the Blackshields,
the loyalist Mechanicum, pinned to its ruins by the incoming firepower,
illuminated only by sensor arrays and burning buildings, had never known day.
But now the sun
was rising.
Nurthariun was
the first to arrive, followed by Artorius and Isakain. A whip sounded through
the sky, displaced air sending up a dust storm in the ruins. A halo of light
emerged from their shimmering, golden armour. And then they opened fire.
Krole and her
Raptor Guard joined them shortly in an Acquisitor, intercepting the Thousand Son
survivors which had followed them to the surface. Despite interference from
Mechanicum scrapcode, their augur scanners showed them their prize: the Nammu
Cubes were here still.
Despite the aura of dread surrounding her vehicles, Krole and the Talon's arrivals uplifted the surviving loyalists |
A small group of Thousand Sons follow the Sisters of Silence down to the surface |
Inspired by the arrival of the Talons, the Loyalists advanced, reclaiming
the ruins, striking down enemy warlords. Krend of the Blackshields grunted,
satisfied with his findings: the power of his Chymaere had been demonstrated,
bloodying themselves on the Iron IVth. Not only that, but on a larger scale warfront,
the space-time disruption caused by the Nammu cubes was evident.
The effort by
the Talons had proved too late, however. Despite serious blows against the traitor
forces, the surviving Mechanicum and Iron Warriors retreated to their craft
with the stolen artefacts, leaving artillery and siege-automata in their place
to tie up the Imperial Fists.
Oppressive firepower |
Sensing their
escape with the Nammu cubes, Jenetia Krole, through gunfire, dust and blood,
caught the gaze of Plutarch. She wondered if he even knew what he was looking at—a
ghost, maybe. She hoped Astartes had moved past such superstition.
Krole frowned,
flared her nostrils, and signed her thanks. Plutarch did not see this, nor her
reembark upon her Acquisitor. What he could see, however, abandoned in the
rubble, was the gust of displaced air from the Custodians as their golden light
dissipated, vanishing from the cathedral and returning to their craft in
pursuit of the IVth and XVth...
*
And with that, the second major act of our Heresy28 campaign concludes. A series of interlocking narrative games, a technical Loyalist victory, and a whole day of games and fun.
Thank you to @k0rdhal for hosting the event. Thank you to @sinan-atamer for the beautiful photography. Also, thanks both of you plus @actualecho, @seneschal_werhner and @death_of_a_rubricist plus Mark, who remains social media free, for attending with me, and thanks to everyone for contributing to this post with their gorgeous models and snippets of lore.
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