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.

“At the outset of the Heresy, certain Mechanicum factions attempted to remain neutral in order to maximise their gain from the conflict, be it lending support to loyalists or traitors, or their own agenda. In response to the enhanced threat of Legion Astartes the Lorica Thallax was developed further to provide an adaptable template and support the existing Thallaxii variant. At first, using lore from the Castellax frame, adapted Thallax coded as Uber-Thallax were created. These frames allowed for heavier weaponry and enhanced durability. Coupled with line Thallax it was intended that this would provide a rounded, adaptable force. However, selfish is the Machine. The one resource that constrained the Mechanicum factions was the availability of experienced tech priests for leading its forces. Memory duplication and cloning could only go so far, thus the limits of the Lorica Thallax were pushed. A leader caste of Thallax was created, the candidate carefully selected from gene templates and given a higher degree of autonomy and command over lesser Thallax units and with the limited ability to program automata. These units, dubbed Skitariax, were able to operate independently under broad order, often able to adapt and improvise based on minimal original direction. While initially seeing success in early engagements of the Heresy, later in the campaign a rate of rebellion of independent Thallax forces started to give the Mechanicum pause from using this design, often having to deploy conventional forces at great expense to suppress their secrets.

The force fielded against the loyalists was commanded by Skitariax-Omega-11-2, whose army had been expanded with additional Mechanicum units including a sub-Questoris house, consisting of an Arcaeus-Pattern Knight and attendant Armigers.” (Credit: @actualecho)



              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


The forests were reduced to smouldering tar, the sixteen-million year evolutionary journey of chirping beetles rendered extinct in just four hours. The face of Arlyss VI had become brown, scarred and cracked, hanging in the sky like a death omen of old above its host planet.

              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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