Paths of the Damned - WH40K

[Shroom Man 777]

Goddamn! That was fucking awesome! It's been years since I read the last chapter, but just reading this new unexpected one was such a blast! The Guard being so badass, digging in like what they always do, facing unimaginable odds and just fucking dealing with it through sheer grit, determination, and a fuckload of guns! That's right, men! Let's show them what the Imperial Guard can do! Anoint them in their own blood! Shatter their sky!

And then, when the shit hits the fan, goddamn Space Marines come down - the fucking Ultramarines! And what's the first thing the Marine says? That's right, he says:

DISPEL YOUR FEAR!

What an awesome line! Space Marines! The Emperor's Angels of Death! Coming from above! ULTRAMARINES!

[Zachg56]

I like this story....interesting uptake to the WH40k verse

[Zachg56]

To answer your stormtrooper question earlier...I'm taking this directly from the Lexicanum

Kasrkin are part of the Imperial Guard Structure and are dedicated to the security of Cadia. Their name comes from the title of the cities of Cadia, which are "Kasrs". Thus, City Kin.

These are the elite of the already superior Cadian military and are picked up while still serving as Whiteshields in the Cadian armed forces. Their training is comparable, if not better to that of Storm Troopers (they are the Cadian equivalent) and they are utterly dedicated to the preservation of Cadia, whereas Storm Troopers are indoctrinated to the defense of the entire Imperium.

They are highly trained in the use of numerous weapons, and are armoured with Carapace Armour. They have an ethos of duty and honour and a devotion to the Emperor that is impressive for members of the Imperial Guard. Whereas the standard Storm Trooper is looked down upon in envy by Imperial Guardsmen, the standard Kasrkin is looked up to with favour. They are the ultimate warrior to fight against the enemies of the Imperium (such as the forces of Chaos), and they lead the charge in the defense of Cadia. To be a Kasrkin is to hold a position of honour, and all Cadians recognize this.

As a side note, Cadia is sometimes refered to as Home (in some of the novels with them) by the Cadians, not to mention the fact that Cadians in general are often respected as badass soldiers even amongst the Space Marines. Quoting Raven Guard Brother-Captain Corvane Valar

The Raven Guard Fifth has served with the Vednikians and the Cadians before. We have judged their characters as planetary people , and assesed their prowess as regiments in the service of the Emperor. They are the claws of your plan. They are killing talons sharper than all others at your disposal. Therefore we will unleash our fury and anger of our weapons elsewhere, where they will most assuredly be more needed.

Other than that...excellent story!

[ziasyn]

That was one of the best battle scenes that I have ever read. It's too bad that none of the 40k universe has never been turned into a movie that would have been just as awsome to watch

[Night_stalker]

Nice job, and there is a Warhammer 40K movie coming out. Fortunately, Dan Abnett is writing the script!

[ziasyn]

yeah I heard about that and saw some sorta trailer that looked more like a new 40k pc game than a movie

[Night_stalker]

Its going to be all CGI, and Stravo a Alpha level psyker doesn't exist. The highest one can get and retain sanity is a beta. As far as I know, the only Alpha Level psyker can be found on Terra on the Golden Throne.

[ziasyn]

Once Stravo finishes this story he is certainly welcome to become Alpha level you don't need sanity to write a good story

[speaker-to-trolls]

The Emperor is Alpha Plus level (I think), that classification wouldn't need to exist if there weren't already Alpha level psykers out there.
Yeah wikipedia, but come on, it's not as if this is sufficiently serious business that I need a better source. Also it says in that article that there is an Alpha level psyker in one of Abnetts books.

[Stravo]

Wasn't there a scene in the Eisenhorn trilogy where a triumph is being held and a group of Alpha level chaos psykers are being led in chains and they are set loose and they lay waste to the Imperial Guard in the immediate vicinity before fleeing into the city and Eisenhorn has to track them down and kill them? I was fairly certain they were referred to as Alpha and in some cases Alpha plus level psykers and they were spoken of with great fear because they were the pinnacle of dangerous psykers.

[White Haven]

The point I think he's making is the lack of alpha and plus-alpha psykers who don't have a Chaos god shoving its hand up their ass to use them as a meat puppet. Not saying it's categorically impossible, but I can't think of any instances post-Heresy where we see non-corrupted psykers of that potency.

[Night_stalker]

Yeah, according to Lexicarnum "In the rarest of all cases, the twenty-four point scale of the Assignment does not adequately characterize a being of indescribable ability. Such individuals, for all intents and purposes, pass beyond the scale entirely. These subjects are known as Alpha-Plus psykers.
Uncontained, Alpha-Plus psykers represent an immediate and catastrophic threat to the Imperium. In theory, there is nothing that a trained Alpha-Plus psyker cannot accomplish through force of will; from snapping a Titan in half to summoning a legion of Greater Daemons. Representing such a great danger, the Inquisition usually executes Alpha-Plus psykers on sight unless the possibility for capture is nearly assured. "

I would have to say that a Alpha-class psyker is extremely rare not even counitng their being shot on sight virutally, so the odds of one surviving past puberty without madness or being shot are pratically astronomial.

[Zachg56]

Its going to be all CGI, and Stravo a Alpha level psyker doesn't exist. The highest one can get and retain sanity is a beta. As far as I know, the only Alpha Level psyker can be found on Terra on the Golden Throne.

I sure hope they have the IG fighting alongside them Ultramarines.....or at least have one scene where we get to see an Armored Company in the background.

[Tandrax218]

When is the next part coming up????

[Stravo]

Just in time for the holiday weekend I present you a new chapter. Again, all you 40k vets I'll be looking for critiques and observations to make sure this is presented in the right way and I'm not getting any details wrong.

A few questions in regards to future parts of the story. When we say "And they shall know no fear" is that to be taken literally and by that I mean do Space marines literally feel no fear or is it that they are so insanely disciplined that they won't break morale due to being afraid, etc.

If space marines show up at the scene are they considered to be in command or is Jinn in his rights to view it as more of a cooperative operation?

Medical tech wise what is possible for battlefield medicine and what can an Apothecary generally do - and can they overule their commanders in the same vein that McCoy could fuck with Kirk when it came to medical fitness for command and such?

How wanked out can I go with a librarian's psyker abilities?

Thanks everyone for your input and I hope to have another up soon as there was a lot I excised in this chapter for another one.




Chapter 15: Battle Brothers


Mordred de la Croix said nothing as he closely watched the clearly still frazzled Imperial Guard general try to explain to him the current strategic situation. The general was wounded but he bravely ignored entreaties from his medics for treatment. He was young, Mordred noted the lack of grey in his hair and the tightness of his skin around his eyes. According to his dossier Jinn was known as the “boy general” by his men.

He was aggressive but cautious and he did not waste his men’s lives unlike most in his position and the prevailing ideology of the Officio Munitorium when it came to Imperial Guard casualties. He tended to think defensively and had mastered repulsing assaults many times larger than the force he was given. He had served with distinction on several campaigns and was awarded many medals and citations. He was undoubtedly a rising star in the command structure although the fact that he was not a native Cadian did not sit well with those like Castellan Creed so Jinn would most likely end up where he was now. A dossier was not the measure of a man. It was merely the foundation from which to make judgments and Mordred prided himself on judging men quickly and accurately especially seeing past surface impressions.

Around him his space marines were moving together as one cohesive unit and clearing the battlefield of the vile Ork presence. The sound of the holy bolter roaring to life in short controlled bursts swelled around them like a symphony and the earth shook under their feet to announce the nearby arrival of another drop pod from the “Vigilance Eternus” in low orbit above them.

In a matter of minutes his company would be forming up around them, but for now it was just his spear tip and as he quietly observed them going to work on the enemy no captain could be prouder.

The shouts of exhortation from Chaplain Mordecai Mortus joined the cacophony of battle. “To arms my brothers!! Let no man call himself a follower of the Emperor who is not ready and willing to give his heart’s blood for an inch of Imperial soil! This is the judgment of the righteous green skin scum!” The impact of Mortus’ Crozius against an unfortunate Ork resounded like a great hammer striking to punctuate the Chaplain’s words.

Moving through the haze and smoke of the battle in a disciplined methodical advance were the leading elements of the first company. At this distance they were nothing more than armored shadows illuminated every few moments by the staccato burst of bolter fire. The advance was relentless and as each squad met during the advance they would mechanically enter a star formation, back to back, shoulder to shoulder and create a murderous fusillade of fire that evaporated the green skins in their vicinity and then like ballet dancers they pirouetted and joined as a solid line to continue the solemn advance.

The effect was clear after a few moments of observations. Anything that was not human no longer lived as the spear tip linked up into a solid line and soon there was nothing but the august blue of the Ultramarines.

“We managed to hold them for a day but this morning they came at us with a combined assault of armor and air support. We had no idea they were this organized.” Jinn continued ardently hoping to get out all the information he could as quickly as he could so he could return to his men and see what murderous ruin the Orks had wrought on his proud Cadians.

He suddenly turned to glare at the artillery crews still stunned and recovering from the Ork assault.

“What are you men waiting for? Why are my guns silent! Why are you not killing Orks! Why are you not raining death and righteous fury on these xenos!?” He shouted.

The artillery crews, many no older than children, suddenly snapped into action and began loading and re-positioning their Basilisks to provide artillery support. Jinn returned his attention to the space marine captain standing towering over him with his helmet nestled neatly under one massive armored arm.

“In any event they came at us with numbers we were not expecting or hoping to face. The inquisitor warned us this world was held by a Waagh of these Ork filth but we were supposed to be landing in a quiet sector. No Ork presence besides a few roving war bands, that we could have handled but this…” Jinn shook his head.

“Malagaunt.” Mordred finally spoke and he uttered the name like a curse. He glanced around the battlefield and caught sight of first sergeant Jericho spinning on his left heel and driving his power sword right through the sternum of an Ork Nob. He lifted the Nob off its feet and flung it at the dismayed retinue that accompanied it like a sack of refuse.

Jericho lifted his power sword high and urged his man forward even as Ork fire snapped around him, some tracers coming close enough to partially illuminate his proud and noble face. Mordred made a mental note to remind his first sergeant that his company policy was to wear helmets during initial drop operations.

“And where is our noble inquisitor?” he asked curiously glancing around the immediate area. Fire and thick black smoke belched from the ruined command bunker behind them.

“He entered that mountain with his team yesterday and we have not heard from him at all. He warned us that would happen and gave us three days.”

“Three days?” Mordred replied quizzically.

Jinn frowned.

“The inquisitor told us that if he was not done in three days to abandon him and immediately contact the Ordos for a request of Exterminatus.”

Mordred’s expression was stony but his outrage burned inside.

“So, the inquisitor would burn the breadbasket of a subsector, eh?” Caspian noted dryly as he suddenly appeared out of nowhere to standing behind Jinn. Jinn glanced back uneasily at the looming figure of the librarian but stood his ground. Mordred took a quick mental note that this Imperial Guard general had some steel in him. The one eyed librarian cut a very intimidating figure when he was girded for war.

Caspian was in full combat gear, massive terminator armor gleaming aggressively in the sunlight burning through the haze choking the air above the battlefield. He held an ornate staff in one hand, a smoky amethyst crystal topped the cold silver metal with intricate brass inlaid in a thin twisty pattern along the entire shift. The crystal crackled and snapped ominously and a weak sickly glow emanated from its center like the light of a dying sun. Upon closer inspection the crystal was not flawless, there were cracks and crags and certainly not uniform in shape or texture. It was as if it were plucked straight from the earth itself and not worked on or shaped by hands of man or servitor. Raw and natural much like the librarian’s own power. A golden pyramid capped the crystal and melded seamlessly into the top of the shaft.

Strapped to Caspian’s back in a beautiful leather scabbard criss crossed with silver runes and ancient red waxen seals was his primary weapon. A powerful vicious two handed chain sword Caspian called “My Final Argument” There was nothing to be laughed at when the chain sword started and the blood and viscera followed. He had seen what carnage the librarian could inflict when combat entered close quarter fighting.

“What do you sense from that mountain?” Mordred asked as he watched the skies for signs of the follow on forces. His spear tip was fully deployed now and a wide swath of terrain was now firmly in their hands. Consolidation was paramount now. It would not be long before the green skins would recover and regroup.

“Jericho has things well in hand.” Caspian answered Mordred’s unspoken concern.

“Of course he does.” Mordred replied without hesitation. “He is my spear tip.”



VIGILANCE ETERNUS 3 WEEKS EARLIER

Mordred grunted with effort as he tried to pull his blade away from Jericho’s. Both space marines were circling each other, blades locked in tightly with each other and each one humming hungrily.

“Watch your footing, sergeant.” A deep bass electronically filtered voice warned from above them.

“My foot work should be the least of his worries.” Jericho replied, his voice taut with effort as he also tried to work his blade clear to his advantage. The older captain was pulling the younger sergeant with him in a circle as they pulled at each other’s weapons but their eyes never left their opponent’s.

“You’re right, first sergeant. The least of my worries is your footing.” With a final grunt of effort Mordred hauled hard to the left and then even harder to the right and Jericho knew in an instant that he was undone. The space marine sergeant was lifted off his feet for a moment and that was all the leverage the captain needed to send Jericho hurtling into the closest wall with a great clang of metal on metal.

Jericho kipped up and instantly bowed in salute to the victor.

Mordred casually handed Jericho his power sword after admiring it for a moment.

“What did you learn?” Mordred asked seriously his eyes peering intently at the young sergeant.

“I must watch my footwork.” Jericho replied instantly eyes straight ahead.

Mordred eyed him with a hooded expression then raised a single eye brow.

“No.”

“Sir?” Jericho replied confusion etched on his face shining from the thin sheen of sweat on his brow.

Mordred started pacing around Jericho.

“You were over confident.”

“Sir..I…permission to speak freely.”

“Always.” Mordred replied still pacing. His footsteps echoed on the metallic grates like hammer strikes giving a cadence to his steps and even his words.

“I am not sure what you mean. I am the finest swordsmen in this company. Where does the line between confidence in one’s abilities and overconfidence cross over?” Jericho asked earnestly watching his captain pacing around him.

“Brother Godric?” Mordred asked glancing up at the walkway that surrounded this particular training circle. Around them other training circles, some much larger than the one they occupied, radiated out from the central assembly area large enough to house the entire company in full battle regalia for the times when mass training was required. Most of the other training circles were occupied by space marines doing battle and preparing for the upcoming conflict with the Ork Waaagh on Tyrial.

“Your first error is in your own self assessment, battle brother.” Godric picked up without hesitation and he spoke with a deep bass tone filtered through his vox. “No one is the finest anything in this company. We are Ultramarines. We already are the finest of the Emperor’s warriors. To further delineate who is better than the best is sheer ego.”

Jericho said nothing but Mordred could see the disappointment etched in the way he tightened his jaw and the crease around his eyes. To anyone else the young Space marine sergeant was listening attentively and respectfully to the ancient as he spoke but to his captain who had led and molded this fine young Astartes Jericho might as well have been shouting his disapproval to the stars.

“One day you may best someone with the blade and only to find that the lowliest initiate can defeat you with a stroke of fate.”

Mordred started coughing and he stopped his pacing for a moment to weather the storm of loud wet hacking coughs that would overwhelm him. Jericho eyed him with worry but knew better than to try and step in. At the last cough he managed to spit onto the grates at his feet and a thick black ichor sat there as if taunting him with its presence. Mordred breathed deeply for a moment, troubled by how wet his breathing sounded and shook his head slightly.

“Or an old man dying of a wasting disease.” Mordred added wryly as he started pacing again.

Jericho frowned.

“Your plight is not one to be made light of. It is a tragedy… for this company.” Jericho quickly added the last part.

Mordred paused and eyed the young sergeant critically.

“Jericho, you will find in life that there are no tragedies or triumphs. In the end there are only facts and figures and it is a fact that I am dying regardless of how the rest of you may feel about that.” Mordred replied quietly. “The only thing that can be done is continue to do our best for the Emperor for our souls are in his hands.”

Mordred stepped in close to Jericho and gripped the young man’s shoulder with his gauntlet. “Do not grieve, Jericho. The vile forces of Chaos can mutilate my body, poison my lungs or even bend my senses to their whims, but in the end.” Mordred leaned in even closer and touched Jericho’s chest plate at the golden Aquila “they cannot touch our souls. That is for the emperor and it is inviolable.” Mordred finished with a powerful whisper, these words meant only for his first sergeant. They were a mantra he hoped the young man would understand and carry with him.

Jericho smiled sadly.

“Were that I could take on your sickness, Captain. I would die for you.” Jericho replied earnestly and with such powerful emotion that for a moment there was a threat of tears in his eyes. He raised his hand to his own shoulder and enclosed Mordred’s hand with a powerful firm grip.

Mordred’s grip eased and withdrew it from beneath Jericho’s poltroon.

“I would not ask that of you or any of my space marines – least of all you. Now, I want you to meditate on what has been instructed and see if you can find the truth in our words.” Mordred continued his voice rising above the intimate volume it had been before.

“Of course, my captain.” Jericho replied and bowed respectfully before backing away and exiting the circle. Brother Godric waited patiently outside the circle, obviously having found his way down from the observation platform. How a multi-ton fighting machine could move so quickly and quietly was always a wonder.

Mordred stood in the center of the fighting circle and quietly observed the dreadnought as it stood just as quietly watching him. The huge ironclad dreadnought was resplendent with purity seals in place, old war wounds scorched in its ancient armor plate and power claws set in a “relaxed” position revealing the heavy flamer slung beneath it that had boiled the blood of so many xeno enemies of the Imperium. He knew that in times of battle one of the powered claws would be reverently replaced with the assault cannon Godric favored or even the hurricane bolter that sounded like a holy chorus of death when they were fired in unison. The missile mounts on Godric’s shoulders were empty but when war came the ancient favored frag missiles to make sure he could shred as many of the Tyranid enemy as he could from a distance.

“You have something to say?” Mordred asked neutrally but it was not truly a question. He knew the ancient’s moods and postures better than most.

Godric stepped into the fighting circle and his legs hammered into the grates with each step, small clouds of steam rising from behind the fighting sarcophagus and the gentle wheeze and clicks of internal gears were the only sound from him for a long moment.

“I have lived so very long, brother. My life has been one of war and service. Even in death, I serve.”

Mordred said nothing but continued to watch the ancient. It was odd to some, to speak to such a being as the interred Godric. Deep within the recesses of the sacred sarcophagus the mortally wounded space marine floated in an embryonic soup hooked into a myriad of tubes ands umbilicals. On the outside of the fighting machine the sarcophagus lacked a face but to Mordred it was as if he could peer into the ancient soldier’s very soul. It had always been that way, almost from the very beginning.

Godric continued slowly circling the unmoving Mordred who stood stoically in the center of the fighting circle.

“I always hesitate to speak of these issues, for I have not been flesh and blood for many millennia. However it is clear to me that I must speak.”

“It is unlike you to dance around a subject. Treat this as you would an assault on a Tyranid position, revered one. Come right at me. No mercy, no remorse.”

Godric suddenly turned its sarcophagus on its gimbaled waist and regarded the captain.

“What you are doing is wrong and it is dangerous.”

Mordred said nothing but merely nodded.

“He is your first sergeant. He is your spear tip, he is your leader of leaders. You use him as you would your finest weapon. You do not…coddle him.”

“Brother Jericho’s ego was just bruised rather directly.” Mordred countered with a casual wave of his right hand.

“Ah…” Godric replied. “Now you dance around the subject like an initiate at his first combat in full pattern gear.” Mordred smiled softly at the words.

“Mordred. He is not your son.”

Mordred’s smile died.

“He is not you. He is not what you were those many years ago when you were transferred to my company. You need to recognize this. Caspian has seen this more than the others but soon there will be talk.” Godric’s voice rumbled like warning thunder on a clear day.

“I know he is not my son.” Mordred replied dully.

“You know yet you do not display this knowledge. I have seen the way he looks at you, the way he speaks about you with a reverence reserved for the greatest heroes of our age. He looks upon you as Roboute Guilliman reborn and it is unseemly.” Godric protested.

“Those are Caspian’s words you hurl at me like sharpened steel.” Mordred countered.

“The truth is the truth no matter who speaks it, Mordred. Even Horus spoke the truth at some point in his misbegotten life. It is no different now.”

The two space marines regarded each other for a long quiet moment.

“Are you saying he is Horus and I am the Emperor.” Mordred asked with a slow smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Blasphemy, Brother-Captain. You speak blasphemies.” Godric replied with a sardonic chuckle.

“Your words have been heard, ancient. It seems that Jericho is not the only one who has something heady to meditate upon tonight.” Mordred added as he walked over to the dreadnought.

“I would expect no less from you, Captain. You always fight me on my advice but eventually accede to the greater wisdom with time. Much like the young fiery sergeant transferred to me from Third Company in need of discipline and devotion not too long ago.”

“Whatever happened to that young sergeant?” Mordred asked casually as both dreadnought and captain fell into step with each other and exited the training circle. The clash of metal on metal resounded around them and the deep bass buzzing of a chainsword provided an aggressive chorus to the cacophony of Adeptus Astartes training for war.

“I believe he went on to found his own company. Some gossips back on Macragge have even suggested he may go on to found his own chapter.” Godric replied.

“Who would have thought?” Mordred commented dryly.

“Indeed.”

Both figures slowly disappeared into the cavernous interior of the Battle Barge.




TYRIAL NOW


“The mountain?” Mordred prodded Caspian. The librarian frowned. The cables running from beneath the hooded cowl of his terminator armor to the back of his head pulsed with growing intensity.

“There is a hungry malice that sits at the roots of that mountain.” Caspian spoke and his words sounded distant and quiet. “It has been sleeping for a very long time but now…now it is awake and it’s intelligence is..” Caspian’s eye narrowed as if he were trying to peer through some thick gloom. “ancient, older than the star of this world.” He finished and he looked now at his captain. “This inquisitor may have stirred something better left alone.”

“Of course he has.” Mordred replied bitterly. “and we’re in the center of it.”

“Welcome to my personal little hell.” Jinn added. “I’m going to be planting many of my men here.” He looked over the trenches and wondered how many of his company would be leaving this hole.

Mordred nodded.

“With the Emperor’s blessings, general, we hope to be planting less of them now that we have arrived here. With some perseverance, faith and the holy fire of our bolters and lasguns we shall endure.” Mordred spoke sternly.

He suddenly backed away and started coughing and was seized by a fit of spasms. Caspian moved faster than Jinn could have imagined in armor so bulky and large and between blinks of an eye was at his captain’s side. He placed one hand cautiously on Mordred’s shoulder careful not to seem as if he were trying to support him and rob his captain of the air of authority and dignity he had so carefully crafted.

Mordred fought the spasms with all his might and it felt as if razors were rattling around inside his lungs and each cough brought new waves of agony. No. He thought to himself. Not now. He turned his head, the bulk of Caspian’s arm blocking the view from Jinn and several others and spit out the vile black ichor that had swelled up his throat threatening to smother him, It landed in the packed bloody earth with a sick splash and sat there contemptuously alerting the world around him to his illness. Caspian very discreetly stood directly on the black bile with his armored foot masked in a move to stand aside as his captain stood up straight, wiping the remnants from his lips with careful measured movements.

“Are you well?” Jinn asked curiously. He had rarely seen Astartes in person but he knew enough of them to know that they were not known to be ill or sick.

Mordred nodded for a moment, letting himself catch his breath and the warm summer air still stung his lungs like antiseptic on an open wound. His eyes were tearing and he could feel his legs loose as if they were ready to give out under his own weight. He would not allow his body to fail him. This one last mission, my emperor. Just let me finish this one last mission.

“It appears I may have swallowed a bug. Rather embarrassing.” Mordred replied with a hollow laugh. “Let us focus on the mission at hand. General, we will secure an LZ for my troops to land in force. We will need your help in consolidating the position and then I will gratefully request whatever fire support you can provide us.”

Jinn smiled wolfishly.

“Fire support I can grant you by the Throne and we have one last trick up our sleeves.” He said with pride.

“Oh?”

“At the base of the mountain where I established a final redoubt we have uncovered a Baneblade.” Jinn explained with awe coloring his last words.

Mordred cocked his head slightly and frowned.

“Why has this god of war not been deployed in your defense general?” he demanded.

“Unfortunately, her machine spirit has been grievously wounded. It can no longer move, but her guns are all in working order. It was to be our last line of defense.”

“I’m Adeptus Astartes, General. There is no such thing as a last line of defense, merely a final place from which to attack.” Mordred countered, he quickly turned to Caspian. “Have Brother Narsis immediately deploy to the Baneblade as soon as he drops and the top priority of his tech marines is to bring the machine spirit back to fully functional status. I want this baneblade to lead our counterattack.”

“Of course, Captain. I will relay the orders immediately.”

“Counterattack?” Jinn broke in. “You mean to counterattack the Orks?” he pointed back at the emerald horde that was being pushed back into the tree line.

“We are space marines.” Mordred replied as if that was all the explanation needed.

Brother Vicarus, the Apothecary stepped quietly beside Mordred.

“Brother Captain, perhaps I should tend to you for a moment.”

Mordred glanced down at the white armored Astartes with a hooded expression.

“Do you think this truly necessary at this moment?” he demanded but there was a subtle sadness that only Caspian picked up by reading his aura.

Vicarus did not flinch.

“By my oaths, I believe it is.”

Mordred glanced at Jinn.

“Let us reconvene in a few moments, general. I am sure you want to regroup your men.”

“Of course, Captain. It is, after all, not every day we counter attack a foe that out numbers us twenty to one.” Jinn replied.

“You’re being kind with those figures, general. Our auspex scans in orbit before we dropped indicated numbers more like a hundred to one.” Caspian countered with a cold smirk.

“Enough. We get to work. Now. I will see you all here in 10 minutes.” Mordred quickly interjected.

Jinn nodded and quickly turned to trot down to his lines,

“Commissar! I want a head count - now!”

“You heard the man! Sound off like you have a pair!” Lazar shouted to the men.

Mordred nodded to Vicarus. “Apothecary, you have 10 minutes.”



VIGILANCE ETERNUS 1 WEEK EARLIER


He quietly sat on the edge of the Medicae bed absently pulling on his tunic. The quiet humming and beeps of various medical equipment and chisurgical systems was the only sound that interrupted his silent reverie. His hands moved with surprising delicate motion as fingers found the cords that he would gently pull tight to bring his tunic flush against his muscular body. He noted with passing interest the various scars that traveled along his emperor-given body and told their own story of Mordred de la Croix.

Along his left forearms were the deep grooves left by a Ravenor’s maw as it bit down through the plate of his Mark VI combat suit and buried small chips of plasteel into his core muscle tissue that remained there to this day.

A wicked white scar ran from his right shoulder down to his slab-like abdomen. A hive tyrant had struck him in its death throes as he placed his power sword directly through its major nerve cluster just below its thorax armor plate. The blow had crumpled away his breast plate and severed several arteries. Only the power armor’s instantaneous delivery of anti-shock and coagulant inducing drugs saved him that day. The scar ached dully every now and then like a distant memory tugging at him for attention. The closest he had come to death on the battlefield.

He noted with a grim smile the jagged dark scar running from his upper left thigh to his knee where an Ork chain axe handled by a half crazed Nob had nearly severed his leg. That was a rough and tumble artless battle. He and the massive Ork had gone at each other with such brutality and brute force that he hardly knew he had it in him. Mordred prided himself on his cool precision in battle, calmly wearing the enemy down while ruthlessly attacking every weak spot until in the end there was nothing left but to win.

There was none of that in the fight with the Nob. It was a grunting, punching, biting, exhausting slugfest. Curses and the vilest invectives gushed from his opponent as they tackled each other back and forth while their men fought and died around them. Both of them grappling each other in the mud of some half forgotten rain slicked world and in the end they looked like two great giants rising out of the primordial muck to do battle. Finally he gained the upper hand and ruthlessly snapped the Nob’s neck with a crack that sounded like a gunshot.

The rush of euphoria he was not supposed to feel had nearly overwhelmed him and he felt the strangest urge to shout out his victory to the very skies themselves. He wanted to hold up the still twitching body of his foe and show it to his men, to his enemies and to his emperor and say this was done for you. He fought it that day and instead barked out his orders and allowed himself to slump to the ground as blood loss and shock finally caught up with him.
Odd that he should remember that battle so vividly yet his greatest hate and passion had always been reserved for the foul xenos filth of the Tyranids. And here he was, rushing headlong into combat against the Orks again.

“Lost in thought, Captain?”

Mordred looked up to greet the Apothecary as he stood respectfully by Mordred’s medicae bed. Apothecary Vicarus was a young man, surprisingly so for someone responsible for the medical care of an entire company of space marines. Vicarus looked as if he belonged on the front lines as an initiate under the supervision of the older more experienced squad Apothecaries.

Mordred however had an eye for talent that always looked past the surface and invariably went against the dogma of his Chapter and Astartes in general. He believed that some of the greatest talents can be lost in the rigid acceptance of “the way things are”

Vicarus was a squad apothecary before joining the 14th Company. Mordred watched him work on a dozen wounded space marines simultaneously as Tau artillery rained down upon them ceaselessly for days on end. He worked without tiring, without making any errors in judgment and he was utterly ruthless in his triage of the incoming wounded. Rank did not matter to him. If he could save a Space marine scout and the second company captain was beyond saving he immediately set to work on the scout while making the captain’s last moments in this world as comfortable as possible.

Mordred’s company dropped in on Vicarus’ position to relieve them after a long siege by the inscrutable Tau and after watching him work so tirelessly on the wounded and dying under fire he also watched the Apothecary rise, sword in hand and bolt pistol in the other to face the Kroot savages that had led the final assault meant to overwhelm the beleaguered Imperial forces. Vicarus killed a dozen of the brutes while standing like a wall before his wounded charges.

Mordred remembered watching Vicarus pull one of the barbarous Kroot rifles that had buried itself in his abdomen and fling it back at them followed by ruthlessly accurate bolter fire and exhortations to the emperor. Mordred saved him when Tau fire warriors followed ready to gun him down and Vicarus did not move or hesitate. He would not allow his charges to come into danger even if meant his death.

When the battle was over Mordred asked him his name and service number. He would remember the young Apothecary. He wanted men like this healing his troops.

Vicarus had proven to be a good choice. It turned out he was not only brave but a truly gifted battle field chisurgeon and medical protégé. He has spent the last years studying everything there was to know about Tyranids and the wounds they could cause, the venoms they could spit or inject, the acidic bile they could fleck and the horrid other maladies they could inflict on a human.

It was a point of pride in the Company that whenever there were massive casualties caused by Tyranid incursions Vicarus was usually consulted by the Munitorium’s Medicae branch. He had risen to become a Imperium wide recognized expert on Tyranids.

Mordred smiled softly.

Now the young Apothecary was turning his brilliant mind to another class of illness altogether. From the look on Vicarus’ face the prognosis however was not good.

“Tell me, Vicarus. Has my preternatural space marine physiology finally gained an upper hand on this Chaos fueled illness? Am I expected to be back at 100% by the end of the month?” Mordred asked curiously.

Vicarus frowned.

“The one thing I have never understood, my captain, is your good humor at times like these.” Vicarus replied sternly.

“Oh.” Mordred replied suddenly looking concerned. “The prognosis is not good then?”

Vicarus carefully placed a blank data slate on a wall mounted projector. The data slate slowly flickered to life and Mordred recognized the scan of a human set of lungs and the surrounding tissues of the abdomen. He saw great clouds of black ichor swirling malevolently in the heart of his normally clean and powerful lungs. His eyes narrowed however as he noticed for the first time that there were thin black filaments shooting out from his lungs and into the deeper tissues and surrounding organs.

“As you can see, Captain, the disease has aggressively spread. Where before we saw it concentrated solely in your lungs it has now grown outward and have begun infesting your liver, pancreas and the Biscopea.” Vicarus’ voice dropped at the mention of the last organ.

Mordred shook his head.

“It has infested one of the geneseed organs? Is this verified?”

“I ran the tests myself. I was not going to trust a servitor or a auspex analyzer with this data. I have informed Chaplain Mortus.” Vicarus answered sorrowfully.

“So it is as we feared in the end.” Mordred concluded after a long contemplative silence. .
“Your geneseed is beyond any hope of recovery. We will not be able to salvage any of it. My deepest sympathies.” Vicarus stated with respect colored by sorrow.

Mordred stared at the data slate and he could almost hear the black shadows devouring his body chuckling with the sickly wet mucous sound from that dark catacomb where he had descended whole and returned a dead man. It could not end like this.

Yet it had.

“How long?” He asked the only question that remained in a quiet monotone.

Vicarus shifted uncomfortably on his feet for a moment and Mordred braced himself. It was worse than he thought.

“My original estimates were obviously far more optimistic than I had anticipated. Given the rapidity of the spread now and your deteriorating vital signs I must conclude that your time can no longer be measured in months. You probably have weeks to live.”

“Weeks.” It was not a question but a statement as if saying it himself would make it somewhat easier to bear.

“Again, Captain, this is just an estimate. There are other factors involved…”

Mordred held up a hand.

“No. No, my good doctor. Please use that sort of hopeful language on someone who has not already consigned his soul into the Emperor’s care and good graces. The Emperor has seen fit to grant me weeks in this world and I will live those weeks as I have lived the years prior – in loyal duty and service to His cause and to the Chapter.”

“I am exhausting every available resource, Captain. I have hope that some texts I have requested from Cadia may assist me in finding some way to rid you of this illness. I am hoping their experiences with Chaos borne illnesses and curses may hold a key. It has baffled our medical treatments so far and if I did not know any better I would say it was almost intelligent in the manner in which it moves and reacts to our treatments.” Vicarus added with a baleful glare at the ichor clouds on the data slate.

“I expect no less from Nurgle’s curses. But as I said I hold out no hope, Doctor. This is what it is and nothing that is written can be changed.” Mordred looked into the young Apothecary’s eyes and smiled softly and he reached out and gripped the Astarte’s shoulder. “A man much wiser than I once said that death comes for all of us and smiles. All we can do is smile back.”

“I will not give up.” Vicarus vowed solemnly.

“Nor do I expect you to, Vicarus. It’s why you are where you are.” Mordred replied but his smile was bittersweet and he felt so heavy as he rose from the bed.


TYRIAL NOW


War boss Grokmar Gilgamesh Morn smiled coldly as he watched his boyz getting krumped right and proper by the space marine boyz. He turned to the Nobz that were watching as well. Some were dressed differently than his usual boyz, in the colors of the various clans that had joined his Waagh and were nice and settled in on this world. He didn’t like the way some were eying him though and he absently thought he may have to kill a few of them before the end of the day just to make sure they remembered who was boss.

“Ya see. I told youz that it wasn’t just soft hummies we were stompin’.”

“Them space marines is good fighters.” One of the nobs commented with a crooked smile.

“This ain’t just ya normal fight ya gits. The hummies were trying to sneak up on us. They want ta take this here world back from us.” Grokmar spat as he strode into the center of the assembled nobs. “They come here ta take back from us wats ours but they can’t do it like an Ork. They just don’t come up ta ya and get stuck in.” Grokmar furiously grabbed the largest nob in the group and began throttling him.

The nob fought back with a furious bellow that only proved to the warboss that he was eyin his boss pole and that was not going to fly in Grokmar’s book. Grokmar’s power claw began to squeeze and squeeze and the nob’s head swelled up and its fists pounded small dents into Grokmar’s shoulder gaurds.

“So we has ta teach em a lesson so bloody, so nasty, so brutal-like that they’ll tell all their boyz that this here world is MINE.” The nob’s head popped in a cloud of blood and brain and Grokmar hefted the twitching body and tossed it over the assembled nobs to land with at hud accompanied by a squeal of pain from a group of unfortunate gretchin standing at rest from having dragged more ammo to the front lines.

“Ya remembers when we stomped the black templar boyz?”

A roar of approval rose among the Nobs.

“This will be the same, a fight like no other fight. So ‘ere’s wat I wantz you ta do. You go to all your boyz and your brings them here. You tell em that space marines are here, and just look up at that sky” Grokmar pointed over head where more crimson contrails began burning through the deep blue announcing the arrival of more drop pods. “that means we’re going to have one helluva fight. So bring them mechboyz! I wants ta see big shootas and burnas. I want to see them speedboyz here with all their fast movin stuff and I even want to see our Oddboyz and Weirdboyz because they got their own out there and wese got a fight waitin for us!”

Grokmar wiped the drool from his own mouth.

“I wants to get stuck in.” he said with almost carnal lust.

“How many boyz should we be bringin’ then?” one of the slower and dumber nobs asked.

Grokmar stalked over to him and grabbed him by the shoulders and began shaking him.

“BRING THEM ALL!!!!!!!”

[Jaevric]

A few questions in regards to future parts of the story. When we say "And they shall know no fear" is that to be taken literally and by that I mean do Space marines literally feel no fear or is it that they are so insanely disciplined that they won't break morale due to being afraid, etc.

I'm honestly not 100% sure on this, but in all the fluff I can recall, Space Marines literally cannot feel fear.

If space marines show up at the scene are they considered to be in command or is Jinn in his rights to view it as more of a cooperative operation?

Depends greatly on the Chapter. The Space Marines are not in the chain of command for the Imperial Guard; some Chapters will cooperate with the Guard commander, others will basically ignore the Guard chain of command and do whatever they feel is appropriate. The Ultramarines generally get along well enough with the IG as I recall. The Guard likewise is not technically under the command of the Space Marines, but realistically, most Guard officers are going to be reluctant to really argue with the Astartes. I wouldn't expect the Astartes to explicitly take the Guard commander's orders, but they'll probably at least consult with him and be willing to discuss deployments instead of just saying, "Here's what we're going to do, and if you don't like it, sod off." A lot of it also comes down to the prestige and competence of the Guard in question.

Medical tech wise what is possible for battlefield medicine and what can an Apothecary generally do - and can they overule their commanders in the same vein that McCoy could fuck with Kirk when it came to medical fitness for command and such?

Apothecaries during an actual battle are usually limited to slapping on some kind of synthflesh, patching the armor, and telling the injured Marine to get off his ass and go back to the fighting. Their main concern is usually recovering geneseed during the actual fighting; repairing the survivors can wait until after the battle. Keep in mind that Space Marines are so ridiculously tough that if an injury doesn't kill them outright a quick bandage is usually all that's necessary. In the Crimson Fists novel about Rynn's World, an Astartes Captain literally has his arm torn off by an Ork, and wants to keep fighting. I've never heard of an Apothecary having the authority to override a Captain for any reason, but once again, it's not something that generally comes up with the Astartes.
Spoiler

The Chapter Master tells him he can't keep fighting, he's lost an arm. The Captain's response is, "I didn't lose it. It's right over there," and points to where the Ork threw his arm.

How wanked out can I go with a librarian's psyker abilities?

Librarians generally have some pretty impressive area of effect attacks, though they usually can't "spam" their abilities. Their abilities require a degree of concentration, as well. As I recall, Librarian feats include a Salamanders Librarian using pyrokinesis to burn up dozens of attacking servitors, using their abilities to enhance physical capabilities for one-on-one battles, or in some cases be able to literally rip a tank apart with their bare hands. The only example of the latter I've heard off the top of my head is Mephiston of the Blood Angels and AFAIK he's the scariest Librarian in the Imperium -- but I haven't heard that as his "upper limit." Throwing lightning, fire, telekinetic attacks, and combat enhancements are all appropriate and fairly common.

[Night_stalker]

Nice job, and to answer your questions:

1. They feel it, but their discipline suppresses it.

2. Generally cooperative, but can take command if need be.

3. They can do quite a bit, but they're doctors not miracle workers, at least most of the time!

4. Relatively powerful.

[White Haven]

A lot of a Librarian's power hinges on how deeply he's willing to pull power from the Warp. The more he pulls, the riskier things can get, so it's a question of 'just how important is this to the Emperor?' A Librarian isn't going to endanger his soul and the lives of his brothers just to save himself, but a throwdown for the future of an entire sector or some such will bring out the serious heavy artillery. The downside is the risk of warp infestation or other unhappy effects. That's why Chaos sorcerers are so much more reliably powerful than Imperial psykers; they can draw on the Warp without (as much) fear of exploding like a blood sausage but when the chips are down, all bets are off.

With regards to fear, there's variation between chapters. The default position as far as I know is 'discipline to ignore fear,' but game mechanics (I know, I know...) imply that some chapters go a step further than that, otherwise why wouldn't 'And They Shall Know No Fear' (the chapter trait, not the thematic element) apply to all Astartes chapters?

[Stravo]

Seems like a silly follow on but I don't have the codex in front of me - do Librarians have accolytes or junior librarians under them or is it strictly one librarian per chapter? Also its not crazy to have the librarian in Terminator armor right? I thought I had seen some models of librarians in terminator armor and really liked the look.

[White Haven]

Not sure on the Termie armor, but Chapters train their own Librarians, so acolytes, trainees, multiple Librarians, etcetera are all possibilities. Varies from Chapter to chapter of course.

[Chris OFarrell]

Firstly, YES YES YES! AWESOME! MORE! MORE!

*gets self under control*

Alrighty then, now that that is under control...

A few questions in regards to future parts of the story. When we say "And they shall know no fear" is that to be taken literally and by that I mean do Space marines literally feel no fear or is it that they are so insanely disciplined that they won't break morale due to being afraid, etc.

For the most part, the later. Its not so much discipline, although there is that, but the brainwashing process they go through when a human is modified into a Space Marine quite literally reprograms a lot of their mind so they CAN'T feel fear. I know that there have been at least some extreme cases where they have, but even then their discipline kicks in and they just move past it for the most part. Even Uriel Ventris, the Space Marine who confronted the Nightbringer face to face personally and held a Melta-Bomb against its toomb and DARED it to try and attack him, was able to push past the utterly overwhelming waves of fear it was pushing at him. I mean the Nightbringer literally burned itself into every speices DNA (bar the Orks) as the Grim Reaper; the personification of death itself...and face to face with Death, Ventris told it to fuck off.

Bear in mind that they were not unaffected by this, they WERE very much, but the Marines iron discipline held.

And there are of course the Grey Knights who, being anti-daemon specalists, go through training, brainwashing and modification an order of magnitude greater then normal marines so they can fight the most powerful psychic forces in the universe and not break. And they never have; not one of them has ever fallen to Chaos.

If space marines show up at the scene are they considered to be in command or is Jinn in his rights to view it as more of a cooperative operation?

Welcome to the Imperial Military

Stricly and technically, NO Space Marine Chapter can EVER command an Imperial Guard or Naval unit. Period. It was the law laid down by Guilliman himself post Horus and the Ultramarines are nothing if not a strict follower of the Codex Astartes.

Of course, its not that simple.

How they work with and react to Guard units fighting with the is going to vary wildly. If they are sent to relieve some hopeless green PDF unit for example, they would be more inclined to operate independently, although some of the 'nicer' Captians might at least inform the PDF officers what they are going to do, no matter how much the PDF officers pleed with them to take command. At the other end of the scale, if they come down fighting alongside a Cadian Shock Regeiment like your Ultramarines just did, who's reputation speeks for itself, they would probably be far more inclined to work with them in a joint operation.

To a large extent its going to come down to how well the leader of the Guard Regiment and Space Marines get on. If they both recognize each other as strong leaders and warriors, there is every chance they'll 'sit down' and quickly work out a plan to kill the enemies of the Emperor in the most effecient way possible, playing to each others strengths. In some rare cases, they'll even accept being more or less under the command of a Guard officer, ala someone like Creed if they were stationed on Cadia, although technically for all parties they would not be, and they would just be taking his 'advice'. But if its excellent advice, well, there you go. This includes when things like Crusades are launched under a Warmaster or Lord General or such.

And of course, when Inquisitors are involved, everything has the possibility of getting very murky very quick.

Medical tech wise what is possible for battlefield medicine and what can an Apothecary generally do - and can they overule their commanders in the same vein that McCoy could fuck with Kirk when it came to medical fitness for command and such?

Battlefield wise their main duty is to recover the geenesead of the chapter when their Brothers fall, to make sure it is not lost, and perform very quick 'repairs' to the Marines to keep them active and on the front line until they can be pulled back to their ship or strong point for more extensive work. Of course, in extended defensive situations (and the Codex Astartes very much talks about defense just as much as offense apparently) they may well be busy right on the front line.

But I don't think they have the ability to do a Kirk and declare them unfit for Command.

How wanked out can I go with a librarian's psyker abilities?

Their power will vary. They are stronger then the Guards psykers, mostly because their iron discipline and training lets them control the warp to a far greater degree, as well as their superior equipment at least to some extent. How powerful they are is going to varry, like all psykers, from psyker to psyker. There are also chapters which are said to have more powerful Libraians then others, the Blood Ravens and Grey Knights being good examples.

Thanks everyone for your input and I hope to have another up soon as there was a lot I excised in this chapter for another one.

YAY! I'm personally waiting for Baneblade v Pepper!

And with a Strike Cruiser or Battle Barge in orbit, at last the Guard should have some heavy fire support to really bring down on major Ork concentrations.

[Zachg56]

O'Farrel beat me to it, but to further what he said, the Adeptus Astartes/Space Marines are highly autonomous from the Departmento Munitorum forces/Imperial Guard and thus neither of them have any real power to exert their command on each other.

However, like he said with it depending on the Chapter to Chapter and Regimental veterancy, it also depends on the severity of the case, as is with the case dealing with the Imperial Fists and the Jouran Dragoons during the siege of Hydra Cordatus, one of the very few places that gene-seed can be stored properly. During the entirety of the Iron Warriors siege, Jouran High Command and the Imperial Fist commanders were often on the same page, due to the fact that they cross-examined all the defense plans together.

Also, I highly doubt it would really matter to Lord Castellan Creed if Jinn was a true blood Cadian or not, considering the fact that Cadians place high emphasis on battle prowess and are very warm to others from different warrior cultures. That said, Cadians are also arrogant when dealing with newcomers (if they are not from Cadia) to their regiments (aka non Cadian-born or veteran commissars), and will often have a duel to the first blood if it will help turn the insult into a blessing.

[StrikaAmaru]

I'm honestly not 100% sure on this, but in all the fluff I can recall, Space Marines literally cannot feel fear.

I just finished reading The Inquisition War Omnibus last week; it's pretty clear on the point that captain Lexandros D'Arquebus of the Imperial Fists did get terrified when captured by Traitor Marines and faced with the prospect of being corrupted by a Slaaneshi demon. Also, at the end of the book he goes through a nervous breakdown when it occurs to him that he may have unintentionally broken his vows:

Both of his hearts were thumping - in horror at the memory of being captured once before.

Dread seemed to harrow the giant. 'I have not… betrayed… my primarch,' he insisted softly. 'I have not… betrayed… my Chapter.
Yet I have been led far astray. I must make amends. I must… redeem myself.'

[gunldesnapper]

You just joined Imperial Overlord as someone i follow. Although you have a few 40k cannon errors i LOVE what you have written and will continue to read what you put down. Keep it up.

[Mayabird]

For future reference, better to let threads that haven't been active in a while lie unless you have something big to add or comment on.

Also, I was under the impression that with WH40k, everything was canon, including the stuff that contradicts the other stuff, due to in-universe issues with gathering and maintaining information. So, do 'errors' really matter?