Campaign of the Month: December 2013

Fate: Warhammer 40,000

log140119.tar.gz
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The sheer lack of professional dignity on this planet astounds and disgusts me. Aedessa‘s insistence on setting aflame objects for the crime of being useful is a stretch of logic more reasonably described as pyromania; the slightest attempt to show any form of respect for an anointed member of the Imperium has left me carting the essential parts from the storehouse Waylon was gunned down for approaching while they burn the rest. We will reach this temple’s inner sanctum while these barbarians scorch rock, and leave that damage localized. Perhaps Hadrius will tighten her leash when he sees the bill for his pet’s devastation… and if he does not, then at least the foolish Inquisition’s wealth will have been liberated to serve a constructive cause.

The next room was identified as the Audience Chamber, though there was no-one to receive us. A simple sensory projector gave the room a pleasant view of pure white-sand islands in a smooth ocean, though the electromagnetic interference made it quite clearly a show for the sake of fleshy visitors. Two excellent sphinx-styled servitors guarded the literal seat of power here, and once more this compound rejected my rightful credentials. While the servitors were distracted by mauling the others, I took the throne and finally claimed a new user registration. I am not fully certain which exploit I used in my frustration; it was with a dreamlike fervor that I asserted my dominance of the machine spirit. No matter; I hate to trespass, but if this station had the decency to recognize a child of Mars there would be no need.

Fortunately, when I arose from cyberspace, the servitors had not sustained more than cosmetic damage. One of Sisigmund’s attendants had come up with a clever plan to weld one of the servitors to the floor to neutralize it without destruction; she shall have to be commended. Once Sigsimund and Waylon regained consciousness, disabling the sensory projector revealed the source of the blood that had previously covered the servitors’ weapons: The hall was strewn with the corpses of Borers, some in garb indicating employment by the Adeptus Mechanicus. Those that ran had been hunted down and dispatched. It’s good to see that the security system is performing as expected, despite the abysmal false positive rate.

The door from this chamber led to the inner sanctum. I left it closed behind us, with a directive to the servitors to shield the room from any attempting to destroy it with fire; it will likely do no more than sacrifice these noble devices, but let none claim that I have been more than reasonable in giving the Acolyte chances at redemption. This entryway is reinforced well, each of the metal bricks inscribed with holy equations. There is both beauty and practicality, an excellent work of art.

The missing population of the temple was indeed here, in the inner sanctum. Here my credentials seem either recognized or unnecessary, authentication no longer carries the threat of gunfire. It is a refreshingly civilized place, though that may be in part to how the others went off to amuse themselves while I spoke with the leader here in power generation. There is no doubt now that the station is active; I felt it in my frame when we entered, but here beneath the ground the raw electrical flow is breathtaking. Reverend Mother Diskhet revealed much about the weaknesses of Paretum Temple’s seclusion; after outsourcing all care of the upper temple to a military branch of the Mechanicus two years ago they have had no further contact, with the Reverend herself proudly asserting no contact with the outside in decades.

Discussion went nowhere, but an actual glance at the console clearly indicated that the full output of the Temple had been redirected from the stations to a new manufactorum; they had no concern as to where the power went as long as they provided it. As the Starport branch has jurisdiction over power allocation, this means that an outside force has simply stolen the output. I suspect that the corpses of Borers and shells of tech-priests at the surface were killed when that faction resisted the theft, and with them all dead there are none left to object to the redirection. The insular core here doesn’t know or care that any of this exists.

With our task here essentially complete, I went to check on the others; a quick check of the internal cameras indicated that Waylon had received some sort of medical treatment (inexplicably opting for a cast on his broken arm; not only will it be useless for weeks, the muscle will degrade! Perhaps he may yet be convinced to upgrade…) and Sigsimund had a far healthier lilt to his step (the man had been dangerously sober throughout this investigation). They were off breaking into vents or some such, I hope they hadn’t caused much trouble.

While I was going to get them, I met up with Thalossian in the elevator. It was good to get a chance to speak with the man without anyone waving guns around, though he was somewhat… leading. Supposing close friendship, quick to speak of ‘mistrust’ at hesitation, like a vendor of enhancement products; such habits are disquieting. He knows of the dreams, implies kinship through them, a call to speak to the one dreamed of. He spoke of the work of Tellexus, and explained the interest shown by the Lorasian present at Tellexus’ station. There was a record left of Tellexus’ work at another station that the Lorasian had claimed and sold to one known as the Twelfth Star, though the man had only recently left the planet for Vallis Augustana with the record in tow. Thalossian implored me to seek down this relic, that I do anything with it rather than permit its loss.

It is hardly an unpalatable idea. There is too much destruction already, and given the level of craftmanship Tellexus has displayed, his memoires deserve a better resting place. As for securing it… Waylon would likely enjoy the leverage over his debtor from proof of the Lorasian’s theft of Astartes property. Sigsimund has his crusade here, but the planet may honestly be better off without him, by the signs of the civil war he helped start.

Besides, I won’t have to deal with Aedessa on another planet.

(END)

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Bad Decisions
Reflections from the log of Waylon Quin

We outpaced the sandstorm to arrive at the Pyramid-esque temple ahead of Aedessa and her retinue. Clear signs of a struggle loomed before us outside the hangar entrance; an artillery turret was missing from among the perimeter defenses, and several vehicles lay abandoned and damaged. There appeared also to be a half-built statue of a snake-like being. When completed, the structure would no doubt loom over the statue of the Omnissiah that lay in the temple’s shade. Heresy, perhaps…

After learning what we could from the aftermath of the battle, I extracted petroleum from the vehicles and booby trapped the entrance to the temple. If this place had succumbed to the corrosive embrace of chaos, there would be nothing for it but to burn it to the ground. A fitting end, perhaps, for a temple build to withstand the scorching rays of the Nyxian sun.

We entered the hangar and were greeted with the ghastly sight of bloodied bodies that lay rent, heaped in piles throughout the garage. Blood splattered the walls. No movement. No sign of life. We explored further into the temple, examining the residential quarters and various other rooms. Everywhere we met with the same butchery; the foul stench of death permeated the corridors as we proceeded cautiously forth. What bodies we found appeared to be stripped of all organic material; the Adeptus Mechanicus who appeared to oppose whatever force had rolled through the temple lay stripped bare, so that their bionic and augmetic exoskeletons were all that remained to stare lifelessly at us as we walked through the temple corridors.

Eventually, we came upon a vast hall. The skylight provided ample natural light, revealing what appeared to be an oasis. A verdant landscape lay before us, littered with mathematically precise sculptures. Ramirez seemed fascinated by these; I only marveled at the enormity of the room and at how this Eden came to be. My reverie did not last long though, as I spotted a unit of armed men at the far end of the room, transporting what seemed to be the artillery turret from the Pryamid’s defenses. I made to sneak closer to the group while Ramirez continued to stand in rapt admiration of the sculptures, uninterested in the advancing enemy unit. Sisigmund chose the less prudent approach; he charged the group with a thundering cry.

By some miracle, his brashness overwhelmed the obviously poorly trained troops. They laid down their arms in fright, and Sisigmund made quick work of tying them up and stowing them away. Ramirez joined us shortly after and rendered the artillery canon useless for fear of it being used to destroy the artwork he so admired. I pocketed two of the artillery shells. They might come in handy.

Realizing that this group had been pressing forward to rejoin the rest of their force, we chose to relay with Aedessa. As she joined us, we continued forth. The adjoining chamber was a vast open space, with sprawling, blocky adobe buildings. At the other end were a party of Borers, led by a large red-skinned man wielding a massive hammer. Sisigmund charged.

The ensuing battle proceeded uneventfully, for me. I clambered atop the hovels of the bazaar that littered the room; apparently the Borers had been camped here for a while. Hidden and moving from roof to roof, I eventually gazed down to where Sisigmund wrestled with a group of them. I threw two of the artillery shells into the melee, praying the Borer bodies that engulfed Sisigmund would suffice to shield him from the shrapnel explosion. They did. Between the artillery explosions, Sisigmund’s battle rage, and Aedessa’s chaos-opposing fervor, the Borers stood no chance.

After dispatching of the Borer squad, we continued forward up earthen switchbacks toward the inner sanctum, intent to discover the source of the conflict. We shortly came across two battle servitors guarding a small warehouse building. It seemed the Borers were preparing to storm it by force. Momentarily blinded to reason, I found myself drawn to whatever secrets lay guarded and in wait. Perhaps it was the smuggler in me.

I tried to sneak by the drones to no avail. I managed only to land myself, hidden from view, directly adjacent their guard post. I was now in the thick of things, unable to move forward or retreat back to the group. In hindsight, I should simply have waited. But, panicked and seeing no way to extricate myself from my self-imposed prison, I took aim and fired on the servitors. In return, I was met with a hail of autogun fire. Sisigmund and Ramirez jumped to my aid, and dispatched of the drones with little trouble. All told, I shattered an elbow and a bullet punctured my quad, leaving me limping. Not too bad. My ego probably received the brunt of damage from the servitor fusillade; my limbs should heal up just fine, though I could feel Ramirez sizing my arm. I’m sure he’d be quick to suggest a bionic replacement.

Either way, that’s the last time I jump into a battle from outside the safety of a cockpit. There were many reasons I joined the air force and vehemently opposed marine corps enlistment. I received painful reminders of some of those reasons today. To add insult to injury, the room contained mostly servitor slop, spare parts, and gold bars that could not possibly be transported.

Fething throne!

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log131125.tar.gz
tar -xOz log131125.tar.gz


I have been issued new vestments along with my new title. Custom-tailored in proper Martian red, marking rank by an ancient symbol of danger containment facilities dating to the days of Holy Terra. Very little circuitry, but the lumen lines are a clever addition. The symbology should become clear enough to the book-burning inquisitorial sort I have been charged with containing.

Speaking of the Inquisition, its newest member has spared no hesitation in stirring further trouble. While seeking Tellexus’ drop project as a forward Inquisitorial command post, he sent his lapdog to steal the rover of the current squatter from whom they seek permission. While Waylon saw fit to return the Nyx-side speeder upon the realization that our business was in Infernus, this show of goodwill was about as honest as one might expect. From the look of the guards at her door, I was surprised that she seemed so willing to entertain the idea of assisting the Inquisition… though perhaps this was the sway of the “Hero of Granite Shore”. If so, I do not envy the lapdog’s expected facial structure once the beleagured VJ has time to catch up on the news.

It is far more pleasant to be the one commandeering trains rather than the one having trains commandeered from. The embargo has left empty rails along a wide stretch of planet, which we are free to travel in peace and quiet. The stations themselves are just as empty, without even the barest emergency lighting; the Inquisitorial crone confirmed this was not her doing. A quick stop at one such station confirmed complete lack of power starting one day after the much-publicized battle of the Moraine, which is curious considering the crone’s mention that contact was lost with Paretum Temple with massed Borers two days after the battle. The Temple powers these stations, early deactivation is odd. Sisigmund seemed more concerned about the rioters left to freeze to death in the unheated building (though not so concerned to resist the urge to imitate the Inquisition by dumping burning Prometheum everywhere) and Waylon seemed more concerned with dismantling a dead servitor he bumped into in the dark, but such irrationality is to be expected.

Paretum station itself was similarly unpowered, though this construction shows far greater care than the other stations, ramshackle huts against the cold that they were. Looting had claimed most Infernus-ready vehicles, but Sisigmund’s intuition uncovered two project vehicles of the motorpool staff. The four-wheeler was a kindred spirit to Waylon, eagerly accelerating out into the dunes to leave our strike force in the dust.

Once more, a distress signal beckons to us in transit through a storm, though the scouring sand is even less likely to leave survivors than the gray blizzards of Nyx. Sisigmund found signs of archaic weapon usage on what was likely a Borer vehicle, indicating another faction in this dispute. No matter, whichever party disrupted the work of the Temple shall receive due extermination.

The temple looms now. Perimeter defenses lie abandoned showing signs of damage, vehicles are left in the temple’s shade. Almost a week has passed since whatever incident occurred here, any fighting is more than likely long done. We should soon discover who won.

(END)

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From the personal log of Tiberius Numinicus
Whispers of the past


I’m no longer sure what to believe about this world, only that I must do everything in my power to ensure that it doesn’t end a screaming, rending, terror of a planet. The Borers have, or nearly have, fallen prey to the dark whispers of chaos. That a single psyker within their midst could become a demon was proof enough, but there is more at work than a few angry young men fallen into the worship of Khorne. I’m certain of it.

In the aftermath of the Battle of Moraine I was back on Cadia again. I could hear Marcus screaming for his mother over the ridge, as the demon hounds closed in. I watched, again, as Theotiva was rent apart by the word bearers. As the plague marines wrought their unspeakable horrors on the hive city below, I watched our earthshakers blot out 20 million lives that we couldn’t hope to save. And then I watched from Moraine station once more, as the commissar put nearly a quarter of the surviving men to death for cowardice.

The next day was clearer again. Or perhaps I’d just found stronger spirits. My face appears on the Nyxian Nightly News, slaying a Khorne-spawned demon alongside that same commissar. It’s decided that I’m a hero. That I should join with the Inquisition, as a bodyguard for “Leylios”, another one of Waylon‘s false names. I’m assigned an honour guard, though I couldn’t say whether they’re for my protection or my containment. Jacques and Jane. Jacques looks like he’s never see real combat, a stuffed suit, probably has family connections on Augustana. I’d trust Jane with my back in a fight though.

Waylon and I investigate the hab complex in the morning, and it is here that I begin to worry for the planet. This is where civilians waited to board the evacuation train during the battle. The Kriegs ignored the main battle, and instead entered the complex with haulers. They were not kind to those within. While they have not yet begun the direct worship of Chaos, their cult is dangerously close and will doubtless enter that phase soon. Jane doesn’t have a stomach for this sort of thing, but I’m sure she’ll toughen up. Waylon suggests that we rendezvous with Ramirez. He’s got better information, and there may be a connection between these atrocities and the strangeness at Granite Shore.

Before we depart, I consult local records to determine the fate of the second Borer party - assigned to render the train inoperable. The report is surprising. Not only did they block the tracks, they ambushed and killed the commander of the regiment of Janissaries stationed here, along with his entire retinue. Something’s not right about this, so we plan to visit the ambush site the next day.

Ramirez looks like he forgot to shine and polish this morning. Some kind of lightweight oil is smeared all over him. Strangely, he smells of cedar wood. We meet him in a private lounge at the spaceport train station, and have barely recounted recent events when a commotion at the door distracts us. Jaques and Jane are attempting to stop a twelve year old from entering the lounge. On second glance, it becomes apparent that he’s actually older, but scrawny and wearing what appears to be the remnant of uniform that’s much too large for him. His shout of “Inquisitor Leylios!” gives away his purpose at once, and he forces a scroll into Waylon’s hands. Shockingly, Hadrius has chosen to make Waylon an acolyte. It seems he knows of the disguise however, as the scroll is addressed to W. Q. Leylios.

I am invited to dinner with Commissar Laag, so we agree to spend the night in the main hab complex along the promenade, and determine the fate of the earlier Borer’s in the morning. Dinner is an odd experience. The commissar’s quarters are spartan, but the meal is opulent. My flamers are taken, but I am allowed my sword. Laag has a letter from Mehmed. It says what I expect, what I already know. Mehmed wants me sent back to Istia. The letter says death by firing squad, but Mehmed has already told me that it would be slower than that. For the first time in weeks I feel actual fear. How many guardsmen did I pass on the way in? 20? 30? Will I have to kill all of them, or only Laag to escape? I’ve seen the man fight. He’s nearer to his weapons than I am to him. No hope of a quick strike, thanks to the table. It’s too bad about Jacques and Jane. I was starting to like them.

Luckily, the Commissar decides to burn the envelope. Apparently as repayment for saving his life at the Moraine. Says that if I were under his command, I’d be shot like the others. I think about telling him that I didn’t give the orders for millions to die, that I didn’t watch my friends and squad-mates be defiled and slaughtered in front of me by the hundreds, in order to kill civilians that didn’t want to be in the Imperium, or to watch a man like this kill a bunch of barely trained children who pissed their pants when a bloodthirstier came calling. Instead I nodded. For now it’s better to not to fight him. The imperium still offers the best hope for keeping this planet from falling to Chaos, and that’s something worth fighting for. Maybe even something worth fighting alongside evil men for.

I’m unnerved after the dinner. Jacques and Jane follow me to Milo’s, under the tracks. It’s the same as ever, except that Waylon’s there for some reason. I can barely suppress the shakes. Too many memories dredged up in the last couple of days. The evening is a blur in retrospect, but Waylon assures me it went well. In the morning, my head is clear again, and Cadia is far away.

We take the train to Pallet station, and hence to the site of the ambush. The tracks are faint, but it soon becomes apparent that it was not blind luck that carried the day here. The Borers had help. Camo gear for lying in wait, and even some sort of monofilament weapon. We’ll have to be careful if we proceed, though it seems only the Table Mountain faction is armed thus.

After our foray, we return to Pallet for a war council. The Imperial forces on Nyx are all but annihilated. They have no more than 30 or 40 men able to hold a lasgun. An initial plan to strike at the Borer-controlled stations long the line is abandoned for want of men. Instead we plan to move against possible Borer activity near Peratum Temple in the south.

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Addressed to Acolyte W. Q. Leylios

colyte W. Q. Leylios:

is virtuous and holy Lordship, venerable prosecutor of the holy Ordos, vanquisher of a thousand warpspawn, inscrutable mastermind of the Istrian injuction, and the God-Emperor’s ever loyal servant, Lord-Inquisitor Hadrius wishes to commend you on your loyal service in the cause of the Imperium, and our eternal, secret crusade against the foul spawn of the warp in all their varied and malignant forms.

our zeal and service in banishing the daemon at the Battle of the Moraine has been recognized by his Lordship, and shall be further and ample proof of your ability and conviction. However, his Lordship wishes to remind you that such tasks are secondary to the purpose of the Holy Ordos on this planet. The outbreak of civil war complicates our situation significantly, and we must redouble our efforts to subvert and disrupt the communications of the Conspirators. Only through such a stratagem can we force them into the open, so the Phase II of the plan may unfold. It is toward this purpose we must strive with zeal, and from this purpose, we dare not stray.

Penned on behalf of Inquisitor Hadrius

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Issue No. 0048A3F-349DDE-349AA1.0 -- Resolved, Closed

Re: Issue No. 0048A3F-349DDE-349AA1.0

A static filled image of a hood tech-priest fills the screen. He reads aloud the following message.

r17illistrad: This is Secretarian c13sienna with the Legio Cybernetica and assistant to Magos Seleritov. The Magos is presently occupied with other matters and cannot tend to your inquiries. Concerns about your colleagues should be filed with your planetary priesthood, along with pertaining evidence. Glory to the Omnissiah. May the Machine God illuminate your way.

The following pict stenograph was found embedded as static in the original message, decoded using r17illistrad’s personal key.
The silhouette back lit by dim blue light speaks down toward a grainy pict recorder.

Tellexus… yes, that is not a name I have heard in centuries. We have worked on a number of… projects in the past. In his twilight years, he had taken an… unusual interest in Nyx Infernus. He believed the Omnissiah spoke to him on that planet. He spoke of a relic of archaic origins and believed it held tremendous power. I knew not how he intended to uncover this relic. His methods… ran afoul of other arms of the Imperium. He worked with an Acolyte by the name of Jandice Kell; though worked with may be too strong a term. It was she who sought to persecute him later… or perhaps that was before. That was centuries ago. That is all I can disclose at this time. I urge caution and discretion in this matter. The troubles he stirred with Imperial factions were… not without merit. Keep me apprised of further developments, tech-priest.

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Marine Log 350.999.M41
Chaos Abounds


Barachiel and I have been stationed on Perditus Causus for near 8 months now. Covert recon attempts have recently revealed ancient remnants of The Rock from Caliban. A curious phenomenon. How the tower came to be here remains a mystery, but it is our sworn duty to investigate further and reclaim any and all lost artifacts that belong to the order. The tower proper was enveloped by a large Ork encampment, so we carried out a lengthy and careful campaign to lure the bulk of the population well away from the tower.

After the successful completion of the op, we sought to make contact with allied forces for extraction. Our built-in Vox communicators proved insufficient to relay a signal into deep space, so we commandeered a primitive Ork communications tower. We had no choice but to engage with the Ork army surrounding the tower. After dispatching of the enemy combatants, we recovered a curious Annulus Unifex that resembled a 12-pointed star. The artifact appeared to channel some sort of energy, as it glowed red in the hands of the Ork who wielded it. Curiously, upon taking possession of the artifact, a strange sensation washed over me, not unlike the lingering, all-encompassing feeling of terror present on Malus Terra. I suppressed the feeling, but remarked how possession of the artifact seemed to enhance my strength. Barachiel warned the object might be chaos infused and attempted to destroy it. It resisted the shot, and I decided - felt compelled, more like - to hold onto it for further study. It seemed to… beckon to me.

Shortly after clearing an LZ, the transport ships arrived. Among the crew members were severely augmented tech priests, a small company of armed soldiers, and a group of civilians interested in studying the natives. The entire lot showed a suspicious interest in the Annulus. This reaffirmed my decision to hold onto it - better I suffer its influence and protect the others. After relaying information regarding the location of the tower, Barachiel and I scouted ahead of the transport party. We arrived at the tower without event and proceeded to rid the outer encampment of the remaining Ork populace. While engaged with an Ork piloting a dreadnought, I unwittingly began channeling power through the Annulus. Reflecting on the battle, I realize that I was channeling some sort of energy, akin to the psychic phenomena I experienced on Malus Terra. All the while, I felt the Annulus’ influence growing, seeking to corrupt me. Increasingly the evidence suggested an artifact of chaos, so Barachiel needed little effort to convince me the object needed to be destroyed. However, almost as soon as I agreed, the object invaded my mind. It whispered to me, seduced me with thoughts of glory and power; I couldn’t let it be destroyed. Besides, it imbued me with far greater strength than I had previously known. Surely I could bend it to my will and force it into the service of the Emperor. Barachiel asserted once again it needed to be destroyed, and he reached as if to wrest it from my grasp, but to no avail; I kept him at bay and convinced him I would not succumb to the object’s power. Reeling from a blow I had not realized I dealt, he backed down.

We continued into the tower and then into an adjoining room. The floor had collapsed; the result of an explosion perhaps. As I ventured forth into the chamber, an incorporeal form manifested, appearing to be clutching the Annulus that hung at my side. The form resembled a Techmarine, albeit clearly warped by chaos. It uttered words about reclaiming the artifact, and then proceeded forth, launching a psychic attack. Somehow I suppressed it, and then backed into the doorway to avoid the fire of a servitor-controlled auto turret in the corner of the room. I began reciting various Litanies to the Emperor while Barachiel lit up the the room with plasma fire. Together, I launching psychic attacks and Barachiel firing well-aimed plasma bursts, we dispatched of the figure before it could wrest control of the Annulus. Still more evidence of the artifact’s danger, and yet I was now firmly in its grasp. It was as though the artifact itself rebuffed any thoughts that arose in my mind to consider its destruction. Yet still I resisted the corruption that seeped from it.

The landing party arrived at the tower shortly after. I led a portion of the soldiers to investigate the rest of the tower, which concluded without incident. Barachiel queried the servitor in the adjoining chamber about the tower and its history. After learning as much as we could, we charged a Tech Priest who had accompanied the landing party with opening a door inside the chamber. Inside we discovered troves of Dark Angel treasures, as well as other materials, adaptations made by a Techmarine. A computer inside had a message;
listening to it revealed that a Techmarine Tellexus had come to this tower with the Annulus. His message warned that the artifact was dangerous and that it had been slowly corrupting his mind, but that he could not rid himself of it. We discovered that he had in fact severed his own arm in order to relinquish the object.

After hearing the message, Barachiel insisted the object be destroyed. I warned him that I could not do that, and nor could I even let the object go. It was as though the object clung to me, channeling my own strength so that I could not physically release it. So Barachiel sought to wrest control of it from me. After a brief altercation, he succeeded to take the Annulus, and in one swift motion he dropped it into the groove of the open doorway.

Free from its clutches, I was no longer blinded by a desired to possess the artifact. Barachiel instructed the Tech-Priest to close the door, thinking to use the piston mechanism in the service of the object’s destruction. However, we had underestimated the corrupting power of the object; the Tech-Priest, a look of horror and sorrow entering his eyes, instead instructed the auto turret to begin an assault on us.

We leapt to action. I moved to take down the Tech Priest and shield Barachiel from the turret fire, while he took aim at the artifact with a vengeance. The object, under fire, rose into the air, and began glowing a deep red. And then it was over, almost as fast as it began. Barachiel unloaded a final burst of vengeance bolts, and the physical artifact shattered, leaving behind a pulsing, red orb floating in the air. We instructed the then unpossessed Tech-Priest to close door on the orb; doing so created a massive explosion that destroyed part of the tower. Barachiel and I remain uncertain as to whether any of the others survived the blast. We will make a quick sweep for survivors, but any nearby Ork parties will surely be drawn to the explosion. At least the artifact of chaos was no more.

In his message, Tellexus indicated the artifact had originated from Nyx Infernus. Perhaps our quest will now take us there to root out the evil the planet currently shelters. But first we must report back to HQ the events that occurred on Perditus Infernus, and I must investigate the psychic abilities I seem to have manifest since my time on Malus Terra.

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ANN -- Augustana News Network

Demonic Incursion on Nyx Infernus

NYX INFERNUS — The situation on Nyx Infernus worsens as Imperial Guard forces confront rebel forces in a pitched battle. The partisan rabble were outclassed, outgunned and outnumbered at the battle lines. But tables turn on the guardsmen as the Ruinous Powers pitch their lot in with the Borer rabble, sending a chaos demon thundering through Imperial lines. Only through the efforts of Inquisitorial Acolyte Sister Aedessa Jorens (Fidex [INQ_JORN] minted at 839 points) was the warpspawn banished and the rebels repulsed.

The involvement of warpspawn adds a new variable that escalates the importance of intervention. In the Senate gathering this morning, Familias Augustus reaffirms our commitment to the Righteous Cause of the Inquisition and the Will of the Emperor, while Familias Basilius questions the prudence of committing additional ground forces to an unstable situation, and their ability to marshal themselves in the face of warp terrors. With their numerous assets on Nyx Infernus threatened first by uprising, and now by forces malefic, Familias Lorasia confirms the deployment of artillery and armored regiments to the planet, stabilizing their Fiducia index [LRSA] after a 42 point plummet at noon.

Speculatives on future warp menaces on Nyx Infernus are now open for trading on the Fiducia index [SPV:NYX].

.Sponsored link: Sanctioned Psykers Bolster your private security forces. Licensed & operated by Familias Basilius.

ThE_@_AwEsOmE1 about 10 minutes ago
time for waaaaaarr!!!11

pwnymarine about 10 minutes ago
f*th yeeea, we ll stomp their primtive backward assesd into teh ground!!

pwnymarine about 10 minutes ago
f*th yeeea, we ll stomp their primtive backward assesd into teh ground!!

The_Corvus 9 minutes ago
The Emperor p*sses on the Senate. Now that there’s something to fight, they’re going to debate them to death.

The_Fiducian_Monopoly 9 minutes ago

… has reblogged this post: “The situation on Nyx Infernus worsens as Imperial Guard forces confront rebel forces in a pitched battle…”

DecimateAllTheThings 9 minutes ago
Sending armor, artillery, urbans is hardly “debating them to death”.

Centurion_Promiscuous 8 minutes ago
f*cking lies. Just more excuses to land an army on the rock.

ERR_user_not_found -1 minutes ago
THE END IS NIGH DOOM COMES FOR US ALL!

The_Corvus 7 minutes ago
August needs to put on a good show. Basil always argues against August. Loras is the only one with assets to lose, so they’ll end up footing the bill.

GreyknightCaptain 7 minutes ago
that aedesssa chick is hot

bolters_at_dawn 7 minutes ago
Just bought a speculative, where there’s one demon, there’s another!

dwio340c 7 minutes ago
Authentic canned aphrodisiacs . Imported from Perditus Causus. Buy now. Treat her right!

withGravitas 7 minutes ago
@bolters_at_dawn Is not like they make babies you know…

The_Ethics_of_Greed 7 minutes ago

… has reblogged this post: “The situation on Nyx Infernus worsens as Imperial Guard forces confront rebel forces in a pitched battle…”

SpaceLlama 7 minutes ago
LOL DEMON BABIES

Prodigalson 7 minutes ago
They named their planet INFERNUS. Had it coming.

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Despatch: Battle for the Moraine
After Action Report -- 334.999.M41

My Lord, I have the honour to submit the following report on the operations at Station Moraine, conducted on 334.999.M41.

In accordance with instructions forwarded from the Augustana Senate and Officio Bellum, I have attached myself to the Orbus Istia Janissary expeditionary platoon on Nyx Infernus — henceforth the Nyx Janissary Task Force — as they conducted entrenchment and defensive operations at strategic location #4 — locally, “Station Moraine”. Transportation to Station Moraine by maglev was effected in good order and without a check. The Adeptus Mechanicus arrived to perform defensive fortifications of the station proper, but declined to offer direct military aid.

The Task Force at the operation numbered 112 line combatants, including 8 non-commissioned officers and one Lt. T. Mausier from the Cadian 58th. A heavy fire-support team from Augustana — Lorasian affiliation — and a stormtrooper detachment from the Ordo Malleus — led by a Sister-Acolyte Aedessa Jorens, in service of Lord-Inquisitor Hadrius — supplemented our forces.

Last night, at 1830 Nyx registered time, we received intelligence from an Inquisitorial operative to expect an assault in the morn. Preparations were expedited, and Chief-Enginseer Halbach of the A.M. rendered the aforementioned assistance. The time of the attack coincided with a planned evacuation via commuter train. Sister Jorens put forth that rescheduling will tip off potential Borer sympathizers of our intel; I concurred.

At 0730, reccy spotted a force of Borers proceeding North along Access Road 110 toward our position: a rabble — roughly platoon sized — of lasgun armed Borers, and two Hauler-8 vehicles with applique armor and mining lasers. At 0830, the battle was joined. I led the centre vanguard forces with Sgt. Murad to my left — our two sections guarding the approach along 110 to the Mechanicus motor pool and our forward HQ. Sgt. Bey was charged with guarding the sacred transformerium to our right. The Augustana fire team was set up at the platform level, overlooking the southern approach. The Inquisitorial Acolytes secured our mobile HQ as a rearguard.

The Borer transports peeled away from the formation and crashed into our right as we engaged the Borer infantry at las range. Bey’s flank broke almost immediately from a brutal melee onslaught inflicted by raiders desanting from the haulers. At the same time, we held 110 with ease, cutting apart the Borer infantry from enfilade positions. I would add the hauler raiders were arrayed in a formidable manner, with pretensions to intimidate, and seemed of a different stock from the infantry.

At 0900 (approx.), I ordered the vanguard to a decisive charge to shatter the Borer line and regroup to engage their vehicles. There was when an earthshaking explosion thundered from our rear lines, as the prometheum dumps went up near our HQ. The force of the blast knocked most of us to the ground, and set the station roof ablaze. We looked back in amazement to see a vaguely man-shaped figure wreathed in dark flames stomping toward us, a bloodletter daemon conjured from the warp. I am stricken to report that my own unit of vanguards were paralyzed with fear by the sight of what I assessed as a minor daemon. I looked over to Murad’s unit to see them break and flee, Murad himself alit with black fire. The Borer ranks too, broke at the sight of this; most were cut down as they fled, or consumed by the daemon’s seemingly nondiscriminating wrath.

With the battle suddenly in dire straits, we moved to intercept the daemon. A handful of the vanguard followed in my wake, and we engaged the monstrosity alongside the Acolytes. Janissaries K. Eferi and I. Sallis fought bravely at my side — may they dine at the Emperor’s table now. The daemon engaged us in a lengthy battle, but we emerged in pyrrhic victory as the Acolytes sent our HQ Chimera barreling into the wounded daemon’s body.

Action successfully concluded at 1000 (approx.). The Borer assault on Station Moraine was denied, and the strategic location held. The Borer raiders were never found, having made their escape in the confusion, but not before cutting into and rampaging through the hab sector, leaving behind a moderately gruesome spectacle. The evacuation train would be delayed for an hour, by significant obstructions placed on the tracks at “Station Pallet” — the subtlety of sabotage should not be put past the Borers.

Casualties within the Task Force are heavy, counting 78 confirmed dead or wounded in action, at least another 24 absent without leave. Optarius (Lt.) R. Asellio of the Augustana fire-support team is to be cited for dereliction of duty and willful misuse of munitions, and will be added to the list of casualties at dawn, Nyx registered time.

Additionally, I desire to bring to your Lordship’s notice in this despatch, the conspicuous gallantry of aforementioned Janissaries K. Eferi and I. Sallis of the Nyx Janissary Task Force, and of one T. Numicius — previously sergeant of the Cadian 58th — who withstood blow after blow from the daemon threat, and returned it in kind.

Humble Servant of the Emperor,


Commissar Elrik E. Laag, Nyx Janissary Task Force

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N-3: Special Bulletin


«Fades to pict of a reporter dress in red, disheveled and covered with dust»


This is Jennifer Flare and I… I am reporting live from Moraine Station in the aftermath of, what… I can only describe as a… demonic attack. One moment, the Borer troops… they were charging the entrenched Guardsmen. They were getting cut down. The next moment, there was an explosion on the lower level, below the rail lines. Fire, there was fire everywhere. Part of the platform caught fire and caved in. It was absolute pandemonium.

«Deep, shaky breaths»

Then, then there was this… monstrous figure surrounded in black fire. I’m not sure where it came from… play… play the recording. He had this glowing axe, and was just carving through the Imperial lines.

«Pict fades to an Ordo Malleus seal»


The whole building shook. We could see a few other figures — They charged — charged! — the demon spawn. They were joined by some of the guardsmen. Emperor have mercy on their souls. I think there was the sergeant from the other day. There was also a… commissar, I’m sure. They were going toe to toe with the demon, sword and axe. And… they did the impossible. They killed it. If it could be killed. Ran it over with one of the transports…

«Seal fades back to the reporter. People and crew moving in the background.»


We’re being ushered into a train now. The Inquisition is sealing off the lower sections of the station. We tried to get a survey of the damage. We heard some of the Borers broke into the residential block, but the troopers won’t —

BROADCAST TERMINATES.
EOF CHECKSUM ABSENT.

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