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Default Imperjias Krusts

(started this in the home-brew fluff section)

Black Templar Fleet - The Impērijas Krusts: The Eastern Fringe crusade.

The Neophytes:

Jürgen Stood in a row with his fellow neophytes, within the deep walls of the fortress monastery on Remik; a world in the Ultima Segmentum just west of the the tau empire and realm of Ultrimar. He and the newly recruited comrades beside him awaited their Initiates' arrivals once more. He knew them well. The ten of them had survived everything.... all of the surgeries, the training....where many others had failed to live on to gain the powers of a superhuman killing machine, they had come out on top.

He himself was a white skinned, dirty-blond haired, blue eyed young man with a squarish face held by a wide jawline and high cheekbones. A thick neck, flat ears, and rather plain lips could describe his facial features further. He stood at the end of the row and looked down the line. from closest to furthest: Heinrich, Thorgen, Brett, Douglas, Zane, Helmut, Dominic, Leif, and finally Rölph.

They had been recruited from this world, but completing all of their training and preparations here had been impossible and much of their preparations had been completed upon the ships. Now they were back, the crusade finding a new threat here on Remik, and they would soon be taken to battle for the ultimate test of proving their worth.

His mentor appeared first from the shadowy doorway, Brother Abrahm. He wore a black cloak, which had a white templar cross on the top of the hood over his head. It was also embroidered with smaller gold threaded crosses. Abrahm was soon to become a member of the Sword Brethren, and in his past he had trained a neophyte before, who had been successful in becoming an initiate. He was a highly respected brother of the crusade. With soft steps whispering power and confidence, he approached and stood before Jürgen at just over seven and a half feet tall. He dropped his hood down to his broad shoulders with his hands revealing his face; a face now so familiar to Jürgen.

Though he had high respects for all of the initiates, He couldn't help but feel proud to have Brother Abrahm as his tutor. Abrahm's face was fierce without question. He had the most focused eyes of any man Jürgen had ever seen. He bore his large scars well, one going from the corner of his lip to his jawline, one over his left eyebrow and cheek and a third straight down the right side. Dark brown hair shaved near to the darkened scalp. His lips appeared to be constantly tightened in seriousness. Jürgen had learned quickly that Abrahm was not one for jokes or humor, nor did he appreciate sarcasm.

He spoke with a low, grumbled tone, "Even with your enhanced memory Jürgen, there is still much for you to know. In order to help your mind focus during your first battle, it will benefit you to know all that is behind your armor and war-cries. Come, follow me as we speak."

Abrahm moved beyond Jürgen who immediately turned around to follow toward the large doors on the opposite side of the training room; even large for astartes. The giant metal doors with cauldron black locks and hinges were currently open, letting in the cool early morning air of Remik's spring time dawns.

As they headed towards the doors Abrahm spoke again, "We have already deeply placed into your mind the history of the Black Templars, time, and time again. If you had not memorized these events and customs by now you would not currently be here beside me. So I shall only be covering the history of this crusade today, a crusade whose fleet has grown close and seen much fighting together in the name of the Emperor. As you also well know, The Impērijas Krusts and its battle brothers have grown bonds stronger than any of us have had from previous crusades. Though, with that said, you must not and will not forget or disrespect any battle brother who has fought by your side or to your back, no matter the crusade and yes, no matter the chapter. As Black Templars we have fought alongside other chapters more often than most and expect you to act accordingly if such a time comes for yourself."

They made their way past the doors and onto a stone walkway that overlooked much of the fortress monastery. Abrahm continued,

"The only exceptions to this are any astartes we have fought alongside who have become or end up becoming corrupted by the forces of chaos, and also, regrettably, the Dark Angels chapter. As I have mentioned, we do not speak to them and as far as I am concerned they are responsible for the death of Castellan Raimer and his crusade of 89 battle brothers."

He stops at the side of the walkway, placing his roughened hands on the waist high stone wall, "But I digress. Let us begin then, with the founding of The Impērijas Krusts."

Jürgen looked up toward the early morning sky in its deepened colors while Abrahm prepared to speak further. This world was blessed to have such clean air; though Jürgen knew it may not last much longer.

As Abrahm was collecting his thoughts on the beginnings of the The Impērijas Krusts, Jürgen kept his now superhuman eyes to the sky, and could just make out the lights that belonged to the enormous ships of the fleet as they orbited the planet.

His ears perked and his attention found Abrahm's voice once again.

The Founding:

"Almost every member of the The Impērijas Krusts fought in the Damocles crusade. This of course was a response to the wretched Tau Empire thinking they had the right to conquer worlds already claimed by the Imperium, as if they have the right to claim anything for their own at all!"

Abrahm said this with a raised voice and clenched fists, pounding them once onto the ledge of the wall he and Jürgen were looking over.

He took a breath, "Let us walk again so that I may remain better focused." and so they did, continuing on the stone walkway toward the top entrance of a corner bastion.

"We fought hard in the Damocles Crusade. Not only us, but several other chapters as well. The branch of the crusade most of us were part of fought alongside the Scythes of the Emperor chapter in particular. Emperor bless their unfortunate souls, though it was not the Tau that hurt them so, as we will discuss later."

"The Forces of the Imperium had made it to the area of Tau space belonging to the Dal'yth Sept. This Sept of tau were formidable foes indeed. Having been at a stalemate with them for an exhausting amount of time, the Imperium's commander of the crusade decided to have peace talks with the Tau's water caste. However, our forces ultimately left the system for a different reason entirely."

"The Damocles Crusade had ended in the year M41.742, when Behemoth came to the Realm of Ultramar. The Tyranids were a new and overwhelming threat that the Ultramarines had no experience against. They were losing worlds to the hungry xenos, and it was clear that support would be needed. Some of the chapters involved in the Damocles went straight to their own home worlds to build a stronger defense in case the Ultramarines failed. Perhaps their arrogance as a chapter is justified, as fail they did not even while the odds were stacked so highly against them."

"Being fleet based and having no homeworld to defend, as well as not being of such a cowardice nature, The Black Templars left the Damocles and headed straight toward the Realm of Ultramar to meet this new alien, head on."

"On the way to Ultramar, the large fleet passed this very planet, and discovered it held homage to a disgustingly large number of Orks who were readying themselves to launch one of their despicable flights into the realm of Ultramar to find a good fight. They were of course completely unaware of the Hive fleet that was already attacking Ultramar. Due to their attentions being preoccupied, the chapters already fighting the Tyranids would have likely not seen the Orks coming and a problem like that coming from the opposite direction with the Tyranids already winning was something our brethren absolutely... did not need. In any case, as Black Templars it was and always is our duty to serve the Emperor; we could not simply go by this planet without killing every last Ork that plagued this world. Fortunately there are no other habitable worlds in this system or else the Orks here likely would have spread to them as well."

"The Marshal of the old fleet made the decision to spare some of the ships in order to cleanse this planet while the rest flew on. I believe the rest of the fleet went on to aide in several space faring battles against the Hive Fleet."

"A new crusade was created for this world, which the Imperium knew of but had not yet colonized, and it was called Remik as it still is today. For the Remik Crusade, one Battle Barge, three Strike Cruisers, and two Frigates of the Gladius class were spared."

Abrahm turned on his heel and brought his eyes level to Jürgen 's and emphasizing his point with his hands, "You see, the Imperium believes it knows a rough estimate of our chapter's numbers, but they do not know the full strength of the Black Templars. No one knows but Helbrecht, and no one else ever shall until the time of a new high Marshal should ever come."

He turned back and began walking again, Jürgen pausing for a moment to think on his words and then taking some long strides to catch back up.

"Approximately 350 battle brothers came with our fleet to cleanse this world. The fleet that remained on course for the Realm of Ultramar still consisted of two battle barges, and a multitude of cruisers and frigates...even a few of the Nova class."

"The fleet was named from its flight formation. With the number of ships, the Battle barge flies in the center, two strike cruisers fly to front and rear of the barge, while three frigates escort, one to each side and behind the cruiser to the rear. Forming the shape of a cross, the fleet was appropriately called The Impērijas Krusts."

"Our Battle Barge is The Crozius, our Strike Cruisers The Emperor's Malice, Blasphemy's Murder, and our Frigates The Messenger, The Knight's Lance and The Torch of Faith."

"The great Templar, a Castellan under our former Marshal's command, was selected to be the Marshal of our new-found crusade. His name, is Brother Marshal Thelial."

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Brother Thelial:

“YAAAAH!”

The sword’s clang echoed off the walls as it broke through the Tau’s pathetic blade. Its body clad in a dark green armor staggered backwards only a step…impressive. Another swing, cutting horizontally through the warrior leader’s abdomen, left it dead with the rest of its squad in the down pouring rain. its lower half fell to the side and its upper half back down to the paved ground; rolling slightly as it landed.

Thelial stood tall again, regaining his composure. His men walked away from their own kills, reshaping their circular formation just outside the ruined building. Thunder clapped above in the darkness of the malicious clouds, as heavy sheets of rain showered over their power armor. Though the planet was making it deceiving it was actually the middle of the day, but the darkness of the cloud cover and rain was enough to make his brothers’ eye lenses glow just a bit more than usual as they looked to him for further orders.

His Terminators.

Thelial focused for a moment on the memory most important to him: The broad sword unsheathed, gleaming in the light of the ship, slowly coming down through the air above him and touching his shoulder. Handshakes and congratulations from both his new equals and those now lower in rank; he was finally that of Castellan.

The deep mechanical voices of the terminator helms came to his ears and their bulky black forms looked to him, “What shall we do next brother?”
It came from the suit of armor with much golden detail, the only terminator by him who held a sword. It was a power sword, ever clear by the constant low hum their increased hearing could pick up, as well as the sound of static, emphasized more so by the water falling upon its decadence.

It was Brother Paul, who normally did not wear a helmet as he was the sergeant of these men. However, such weather conditions were cause enough to wear it now.

“You continue to fight magnificently brothers. I hardly have the right to lead such marines.”

Paul instantly replied, “Nonsense brother. You have earned your rank. It is our duty to follow each of your words down to the letter. Shall we proceed to the next target Sir?”

“Indeed. I must admit, these foul xenos known as the dal’yth among the Tau put up a good fight, the disgusting fiends. This Crusade may very well be the most challenging I have fought. I suspect this city has gone back and forth between Imperial and Tau control a dozen times by now. Let the ruins here remind us this was originally one of our worlds. They shall rue the day they took up their intelligence; their intellect will only serve to worsen their demise. Come brothers; let us move on while I speak of our next objective.”

He was the only one in the unit of ten who did not wear the terminator armor, he preferred the maneuverability of his MK VII armor too much, and fought in too many battles with it to discard it so willingly. Normally, he would as most Astartes do, take on the terminator without question. However, with this suit of armor he had walked away from every single battle in a few hundred years worth of service, without a single major wound. This was not something most commanding space marines could boast of, and yet he never boasted about it; not wishing to brag about the blessings that the Emperor had given to him. Such pride would likely result in mutation of the mind or gene seed. As he often thought to himself… just look at what had happened to the space wolves.

He, and the nine terminator forms around him walked on, each of their footsteps falling hard onto the paved ground. The many chains wrapped amongst their armor and weapons clattering with their movement. Aside from Brother Paul, they were Brothers Andrew, Mark, Thaddeus, Homer, Matthias, Axelus, Schlachtr, and David, whose banner standing high on the back of his armor sunk heavily on its pole, fluttering with the wind.

He began the next order of business, “The Tau camp should be within only a couple of blocks now. The fact that only a few fire warrior squads have been in our way to resist our approach, tells me their numbers and resources grow thin. Also as you know, on his first mission as sergeant to aide us, Brother Abrahm’s unit should be making their flanking maneuver now.”

As if on command from a block and half away, bolter fire erupted in the distance. Rounds echoed off the various ruined buildings from northwest of their position.

Thelial spoke again, louder, “Abrahm makes his attack, onward brothers!”
With this they ran as fast as they could in their massive suits of armor up a hill made of dirt and rubble from blown apart buildings. Being in the lighter armor, Thelial made it to the top first, and as such was congratulated by a pulse rifle round nearly hitting him in the face. He dived to the ground just behind the crest of the hill. As the mud hit his helmet, two missiles were launched into the air from only a few feet behind him.

Brother Matthias who bore the squad’s cyclone missile launcher, pointed into the air after his shots saying in a calm matter-of-fact tone, “Incoming crisis suit”

Thelial made quick orders now, “Axelus and Schlachtr, sweep to the sides of this hill and pin down those fire warriors in the building ahead! Everyone else take down the battle suit!”

Axelus and Schlacter who each carried assault cannons, nodded and went opposite directions. The other seven terminators had already started firing their storm bolters into the air. Through the rain it was hard to see what hit. Whatever did find its target, wasn’t enough. Within a few seconds the crisis suit landed amongst them, crashing into the muddy hill and even sliding down a bit.

Even as it slid and slowly sunk into the mud, its burst cannon was spinning loud while streams of blue rounds were going from one brother to the next as they approached. Brother Homer was behind it and made an attempt to charge at the battle suit, his power first raised. The suit turned at the last moment and ignited its flamer weapon on the other arm; engulfing Homer in a sheet of flame. The resilience of the terminator armor prevailed even while close enough to allow his powerfist to connect with the suit's arm, smashing it away. The momentum of the swing caused Homer to loose his balance in the rain and mud and so he fell away while Brother Mark now charged from the suit’s front. This terrain was not at all to their advantage, usually by now the whole squad would be pounding the suit into dust. Thelial now saw why the suit had not fired down upon them while still in the air, it turned back around and blasted away Brother Mark with a smoke trailed shot from its shoulder mounted missile pod.

“Fire!” yelled Thelial, and they all raised their storm bolters again. The battle suit shook from the close range shots of so many bolter rounds. Some of its joints were hit and Thelial smiled under his helm as he pictured the tau alien inside now under so much pressure. From his hip, he swung his bolter around on its strap and aimed a triplet of rounds into the Suit’s head piece knocking out its visual sensors. It ignited its jump back and tried to fly away, but the mud made the leap a slow one and Brother Matthias had locked on to the xeno once again, still standing and ready to fire.

The Battlesuit made it just high enough in the air for the fire warriors on the other side of the hill to see it explode into pieces. Thelial looked to Mark as he was standing back up, who spoke through the vox grunting, “Took it in the shoulder sir.”

The successive fire of two assault cannons came to life. Thelial once again looked over the hill, and was no longer met with incoming fire. He wouldn’t even need to charge the fools now. The building had been bombarded so many times that what was left was weak enough for the bullets of the assault canons to pass right through them. He watched, peering into the darkness of the room as Axelus and Schlachtr’s rounds shredded the fire warriors apart.

...........................

Soon enough, the Tau camp had been razed, and for once, the few left alive had not tried to surrender….they were learning. Some of them had gotten away but they would meet their fate in due time.

Within the next week though, disappointment came to Thelial’s ear as he heard the Damocles Crusade had come to an end before victory could be had. Apparently a new alien force of some kind was threatening the Realm of Ultramar, and reinforcements were badly needed. The imperial allies in the crusade, had decided to conduct despicable ‘peace talks’ with the formidable Tau for now. Thelial could only hope that one day he would be able to return, and finish what had been started.

How little he knew then, how much contact he would have with the Tau of a different sept in the future, and how much more wrath he would have for them as they fell by his hand.

Remik:

Now inside the bastion, Jürgen gazed upon the large statue of Marshal Thelial as Abrahm finished his story. Flickering candle light brushed over its extraordinarily detailed features; the founder of this fortress monastery.

Abrahm's harsh voice once again broke the silence, "Know this Jürgen, Thelial has earned his place as Marshal of this group and he is far more experienced than you, or even me. But as a marshal, he is still young and his reign has not been without mistakes. He expects us to be aware of his faults, and expects all of the marines under him to learn from them. After all, it will be one of us that takes his place someday. This new threat on Remik shall prove most significant to his career."

Abrahm moved on, his black robes trailing slightly behind. He turned down the nearest hallway as Jürgen followed. It did not take long for him to realize that this hallway was a memorial for the cleansing of Remik from the Orks that had plagued this world.

At the end of the candle lit hallway, Jürgen could make out what appeared to be a large skull of some kind on a large rectangular stone slab protruding from the wall. A banner lay flat behind the skull, diagonal on the table rather than standing properly like the Templar banners he had seen throughout other parts of the keep.

As they made their way towards the display, Abrahm spoke, "Remik, as you know from being born here, is a very habitable world with a well balanced biosphere. When our fleet got closer to the planet, we were surprised to find humans on it. Normally, Orks don't begin inter-planetary invasions until the entire planet that they inhabit is conquered. They had indeed killed much of the human population as we later found out. However, the continent this keep is built upon, Haven, was the perfect hideout for those left alive to remain unknown to the Orks long enough to still be unnoticed when we arrived."

"Haven, the name given to it after the Orks had raided the rest of the planet, is a giant island continent that always has heavy cloud cover. It and the World's giant ocean are all that cover half of the planet's surface. The Orks never thought there was a reason to traverse a hemisphere that appeared to be nothing but ocean. Their aircraft rarely had enough fuel to make it across, and when they did the heavy cloud cover kept it hidden. They explained that a few Ork ships had hit their shores over the years but their defenses proved effective and no Ork ever made it back to tell the others. We were impressed by your ancestors to say the least."

"Remik had been an agri-world mostly, with a few large towns and small cities here and there. We did not know why it hadn't shown up as belonging to the Imperium. Your ancestors claimed they had been sent from an imperial world near the Damocles gulf to colonize here but never received any of the resources they were supposed to and had lost contact for over a century. They had to live off what this planet had to offer and did not have any more technology already built than what they had come here with on their ships. We assume that shortly after your ancestors arrived here, their former homeworld was taken over by the Tau before they could report Remik's existence and colonization to the proper officials of the Imperium."

"It was the Emperor's grace that allowed Remik to go un-bothered for so long. If it had been properly colonized the Ork's that sprang up would have likely killed many, many more; and once Remik was cleansed we would not have had such a prime location for this Monastery."

"Having technology that the Orks did not, from space we saw the entire geography of Remik's surface including Haven and its populace. The other hemisphere is mostly made up of Remik's other continent, Grendela, which is approximately five times the size of Haven."

"Haven made for the perfect base of operations to take on the other hemisphere, all of Grendela filled with tribes united under the same Ork warlord's banner. He called himself 'Hurkra skull-chewa'."

Abrahm spat onto the ground after saying this, despising the taste of Ork speak on his tongue.

"Going after him first would have likely led to our demise. We landed on Haven and spoke with your people as we set up our bases, and decided that our best chances would be to start at Grendela's beaches that lay east across the ocean waters from Haven."

They had reached the display as Abrahm paused to allow Jürgen to look upon the long horned skull and torn down banner. Knowing what he was thinking Abrahm clarified, "That is not his skull. This Ork skull is that of the first warboss slain on Remik which gave us much needed headway against the rest of the green-skin filth."

Jürgen Looked more closely at the front of the slab and noticed an engraving. He slid his fingers over the finely engraved letters as he read them silently to himself:

"The One Ork Skull that Caused the Rest to Roll - by the blade of Brother Noah".

You can never be prepared for the unexpected



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Brother Noah:

The western shores just now peered over the crest of Remik’s single giant ocean. The western coast of Grendela, east from Haven, seemed to already reek of Ork made stench. Brother Noah wrinkled his nose as he looked through the bullet proof pane of the thunderhawk before slipping his helmet on and sealing it in.

To the pilot he spoke, “I will tell our brothers we shall be arriving soon.” as he stepped back into the main hull of the aircraft where three squads sat in preparation, strapped into their grav-seats. They cracked their knuckles through their gauntlets, finished their newest litanies of faith and devotion to the Emperor upon their sleek Black Power Armor; on their helmets, arms, shoulder guards, and legs. For some of them, fighting Orks was all too familiar a deal, and for others it had been quite some time. Time enough in fact where they might even find the mission more enjoyable than usual….He would need that enthusiasm.

Noah took his seat next to his personal squad of the three he was overseeing. Nine of them with him, made a full squad of ten marines. Brother Grahm preferred the close range weaponry much like himself. He was currently fastening his combat blade to his bolt pistol as a bayonet that could slice as well as puncture. In his other hand he would wield an axe. He could tear through a wave of charging enemy infantry in a fashion few others at his level of experience could boast about. Even though Grahm had less time with the chapter, he wore the robes of tutelage. One of the many newly formed customs of the new crusading fleet was that an Initiate could only wear a tabard into battle if he had successfully trained a neophyte to initiate status. Whatever all of his own experience may have been worth, Noah had never trained a neophyte. Upon this realization he made a commitment to himself that once this world was cleansed of the green skins and the fleet built a monastery, he would train a neophyte. He was hoping that those above him in rank had seen before him how ripe a world this would be for a fortress monastery with what they had seen of the surviving humans and the seclusion form the Imperium.

“But first things first”, he thought, these Orks had to be dealt with. He had a well balanced squad. Brother Jeremiah was checking his missile launcher for any possible optimizations, a good practice. Brother Samuel wore a tabard as well, but held a bolter chained to his armor rather the bolt pistol and axe preference of Grahm. Brother Tobias was also checking his weapon, a plasma gun. A weapon with a bite that Noah had respect for, and even more for any brothers who chose to wield it. He also carried a large golden orb on his armor’s belt. It had black crosses on it and a templar cross decoration atop of it; not the holy orb of Antioch in itself but one of many replications. Tobias’s helmet was a dark red shade of color, and his knee pads were white with black crosses over them. He also carried a large golden orb on his armor’s belt. It had black crosses on it and a templar cross decoration atop of it; Not the holy orb of Antioch in itself but one of many replications. This showed he was the squad’s weapons specialist and the knee pads showed he had proven himself of such a role. Though most Black Templars were known to liken close combat over ranged, there were always exceptions and Tobias was one of them. He would much rather shoot his enemies down than slay them with the sword.

Brother Veigor leaned forward as the banner affixed to his power-pack rose high. Noah was certain he would be potential for chaplain one day. He was incredible for keeping the morale of his squad high, and bore the chapter banner proud, always raising his chainsword alongside it, high above his head vigorously pushing his brothers into the charges that were so worthy of his name.

Brothers Phillip, Goethe, and Klaus all carried the holy bolter as well. Goethe’s power armor was almost completely covered in white worded prayers. Brother Phillip had a scope attached to his bolter and was a well trained marksman with the weapon. Brother Klaus was the newest Initiate in the squad, and Noah knew the least about him of the nine.

Finally there was Brother William. Because of the extra punch the squad would need doing a fast strike on a densely Ork populated area; extra special weapons were applied to make sure the Templar’s surprise was as effective as possible. William clung to his melta gun. He was perhaps the tallest of the squad, and appeared even more so with a skull trophy on top of his Power-pack. He had added the piece to his armor the day he had exacted revenge on the xenos who took the lives from some of his former squad-mates. This had of course been some time before the Imperjias Krusts was formed. He was a silent Templar, calm in his coal black armor and dark red details that befit his role as a fire based weapon holder.

“As you all know, I will only be able to give specific objectives and orders once we hit the ground. Our ships gave us topography of the area but the only way we will know what Orks are where when we get there, is by seeing it when the time comes. Be prepared to act fast.”

As if in reply, crude forms of ballistics started ricocheting off the Thunderhawk’s hull. It sounded like the heaviest rain you could imagine, falling onto a tin roof.

As the thunderhawk started to lower towards the ground Noah yelled, “There shouldn’t be too many Nobs! Mostly boys! These Orks haven’t been widespread on this world that long!”

The thunderhawk’s ramp lowered halfway when a rocket head exploded on one of the hydraulic mechanisms, causing the ramp to fall fast, slamming into the ground and sending up a huge cloud of sand. Noah’s helmet screened the floating sand particles just in time to see a dark figure fill his vision bringing a large blade down upon him. He knocked it out of the way with his arm, swung his pistol into the Ork’s head and with a loud clang, put a dent in its helmet before he finished it off with a burst of pistol rounds. The sand began to settle and he saw many of his squad doing the same. Noah smiled beneath his helm; mere seconds into the battle and already an array of Ork corpses littered the beach.

A loud noise caught his attention coming from a ridge to the right of their position. A large Ork truck with several Orks leaning from the sides and firing their guns came barreling over the hill onto the beach. A neighboring Thunderhawk’s first squad out was the closest and still in a tight formation. The Truck’s large frontal guns had them pinned, and Noah saw forms of his brothers fall limp. Unfortunately he had his own attentions at the moment. The Orks were making quick use of their fast attacking troops.

A horde of Storm boys launched themselves over the hills onto the beach in front of his squad. Noah brought his squad to the left to make room for the squad behind him just now jumping out onto the sand.

“Jeremiah! Put a frag missile in the sky!” and without hesitation, The Templar lifted his launcher looking through the sights, and sent a missile flying into the air towards the now falling Strom boys. A cloud of smoke plumed out behind the weapon as a streak of white hot smoke marked the missile’s trail. It exploded amongst them mid-air, sending several shrapnel filled green-skins straight down to the earth while the rest who landed on their feet were met with blades and short ranged bolter shots. Brother Grahm was the first to meet them of course, cutting in half the very first Ork that landed…as it landed. Brother William followed suit with a cone of white hot flame from his melta gun, turning the storm boys to ashes. That’s what they got for being so hasty. Though Noah realized these Orks had never faced the wrath of the space marines before.

The sound of a jet hit the air for only a second followed by an earth shaking thud from a drop pod. The large black structure had landed right on top of the incoming War truck, which exploded under the pod as its four doors dropped down. A dreadnought stepped out, satisfied to have already killed the most Orks on the battlefield so far. Noah could not tell for sure from the distance and chaos of the battle, but it appeared to be Brother Bartholomew.

Before his squad could finish off the storm boys who were still yelling in their faces and swinging lazily, The rumble of motorized bikes came over the battle.
Noah yelled again, “They’re bringing war bikes to the shores! Quickly, finish these fools!” and with that Noah unsheathed his power sword, activating the rune, and slicing through a storm boy all in the same motion. His sword crackled to life with a blue hued energy, sparks jumping about its edge. Through the vox to his squad as well as the other two squads he was overseeing, he ordered the bolters be readied.

His squad was just barely half way up the beach when seven war bikes flew over the ridge onto the sands, guns already blazing. Noah’s three squads returned fire, and the fire from the Templars was trained and focused. More clouds of sand were kicked up by the treaded wheels of the war bikes, as well as the hundreds of rounds being fired in both directions. Whizzing bullets went everywhere and ricocheted off of everything possible. As five of the bikes went down, crashing into the sand, so did some of the brothers from the other two squads. In his own squad Brother Goethe took a hit in the side that sent him to the ground, but he was not fatally wounded.

The leader of the bike squadron was still racing towards them and Noah could now make out his features with the help of his enhanced vision and helmet’s zoom in. Tongue flapping, drool flailing, still laughing through a metal toothed face plate even as five of his seven bikes were dropped and rattled with holes.

He didn’t care, all he cared about was the fact that he was still alive and racing toward his targets. The Orks knew no brotherhood like that of his battle brothers.

“Disgusting alien!” said Noah to no one in particular. “Phillip, take out the other bike’s driver before it reaches us.”

Many of the squad had dropped into the sand on purpose now, firing from prone positions as their bolters bucked. Philip made a yes sir reply, and stood up without fear just as any of them would have. Despite rounds flying past him, he remained calm, took a deep breath looking through the scope of his bolter and fired a trio of rounds. Two went straight through the Ork’s chest, and the third through the throat. Ork blood was sent spurting into the air as the bike tilted sideways and slid to a halt. As this happened, Noah charged forward breaking from the squad, going to meet the bike leader head on.

The Ork driving the loud red painted vehicle got wide eyed for the opportunity to drive straight over one these new enemies as it stepped up to challenge him. Noah’s form met with the bike’s front tire guard quickly, but the black armored figure, red eyed, with a sword surrounded by lighting, jumped onto the tire’s armor just before the world went blank.

Noah remained on the Bike as it continued on with a lifeless driver. He pulled his sword out of the Ork’s face, a complimentary splash of Ork blood with it, and leapt off before the war bike crashed.

He scanned the rest of the beach and was glad to see the Templars had made headway.

“The beach is ours for now! But the slower Orks will be here as soon as they can. We must act quickly. Return the injured to the Thunderhawks before they lift off again!

Noah was the first of the invasion force to plant his armored boot onto the dirt of the continent, and take in the view of the higher ground. The hills before him would have provided the Orks good cover, it was fortunate they were too stupid to use such an advantage. He would have to make sure his squad was ready to use them when the other Orks came.

15 minutes later, Noah and his squad were hunched into the rocky landscape next to the widest path that led towards the beach. Brother Bartholmew was in the middle of the ravine, his dreadnought carapace disguised as a destroyed vehicle and amongst a pair of large rocks. They had lit smoke grenades next to his form as well as lighting some of his oil reserves to create a steady flow of black smoke.

Brother Samuel was the highest up, and was currently speaking to him over the squad’s vox channel as he peered over the landscape toward the incoming enemy.

“About 30 nobs and about 3 times that in boys. 2 deff dreads, and a battle wagon. No way of knowing what’s inside it.”

Noah replied, saying to everyone over the squad channel, “Their leader will be in the Battlewagon.” He then opened a channel to the other squad leaders in the area giving them the same information. Noah turned his head towards Brother Tobias who was holding the Holy Orb by his chest plate. The Orks could be heard clearly as they made no effort to be silent, grumbling and roaring in their restless run toward the battle as it continued on the beach. The templars behind them were still finishing off the remaining Orks that had been there, or which had come from other directions. When the time was right, Noah nodded toward Tobias whose dark red tinted helm nodded back before he swung the golden explosive over his head, down into the ravine.

“Stand and fire! Those with heavy weapons focus on the Battle Wagon!”

Three squads rose from the hills simultaneously, thirty Black templars all emptying their clips into the green horde below. They only got a few seconds though. Before the large gun turrets on the Wagon were aimed and fired, forcing the Templars back into their cover.

Bartholomew knew it was time for him to rise when he heard his brothers cease firing. Right in front of the front-most Orks, what had been the charred remains of a blown up vehicle, rose and spun on its axis to meet them, sending a wave of orange and white flame into their midst. He paused the ignition of his Multi-melta for a moment as he popped three smoke grenades straight into the crowd of green-skins. The smoke was enough to cover the Ork infantry and Battle Wagon alike, as well as give the Templar squads on the hills better cover. The Wagon’s turrets turned to face the new and larger threat. Bartholomew continued his relentless assault by once again firing his multi-melta along with his storm bolter into the faces of the boys, charging through them to get to the nobs, gripping the first one he could with his close combat weapon and throwing him through the air onto the rocky hills.

All Noah could see was Bartholomew’s large form charge into the gray cloud of smoke, bright flashes of his weaponry, and in seconds a Nob was flung out the top of the cloud onto the hill before him. Jeremiah stood to fire a Krak missile this time, and got it off just before a volley of big shoota rounds crossed diagonally over his armor. He was alive but out of the fight for now. He held his right arm and hand in pain as the missile launcher lay next to him, still attached to his armor via thick chords. His midsection bled for a few seconds sending streams of red over his power armor before his wounds quickly clotted.

Noah shouted, “Not in vain!! Charge!!” to which the ten of them leapt over their rocky cover and sprinted down the hill toward the blasted side door of the battle wagon. On their way down the hill, the large metal door dropped down slamming into the dirt, chains rattling, as the war boss’s personal Nob bodyguards came out to meet the charging marines. The first still standing in the doorway of the battlewagon wielding a large gun Noah could think of no name for, who laid down the trigger from the safety of the wagon as the other Nobs rushed around him and up the hill. The newest of the squad, Klaus, took what was nearly the full brunt of the weapon. Noah was behind Klaus on the hill and watched in front of him still sprinting as Klaus writhed and shook from the number of rounds pummeling into his armor. Chunks of ceramite were sent flying in all directions from Klaus’s front. He fell in front of Noah who charged over his body, now in a bloody rage. The Templars with him were all driven to a wrathful lust for vengeance at their fallen brother and met the Nobs head on with it.

Bolter rounds shot point blank into Greenskin stomachs. Brother William’s melta gun smashing into one’s face before being shoved into the tooth filled maw, and then fired. Tobias firing his plasma gun so rapidly into one Nob, that when it overheated he flipped the gun around and slammed its backfiring state into the eyes of the already smoking hole filled Nob. Brother Veigor gutting one with his chainsword while firing his Bolt pistol into another’s back as it went for Brother Samuel, who tossed a pair of frag grenades into the wide doorway of the Wagon. The grenades exploded under the feet of the still shooting Nob, dispersing him into pieces. Noah himself cutting his on met Nob into pieces as his power sword cut through each limb with effortless ease. After cutting off both arms, the Nob still roared over him, so he sliced the beast’s legs out from under him before bringing his sword straight down the rest of its body.

The other two squads now fought head on with the Orks who had been marching in front of the battle wagon, and Bartholomew was trying to fend off both deff dreads at once.

Brother Grahm was the first into the battlewagon…and the first sent flying back out. A large power claw tore through the side of the already damaged doorway of his personal battle wagon. Noah looked to Grahm’s form and found he had merely been knocked out from a swipe of the claw rather than grabbed by it, thank the Emperor.

Noah jumped to the task while the rest finished off the Nobs. He blocked the incoming strike of the claw with his sword and sent a few bolt pistol rounds into the heavily armored ork boss. The Ork boss stuttered back a few steps, but then launched himself fully out of the Wagon and onto the bottom of the hill to face Noah.

“This coastal region will belong to no Ork after this day!” to which the Ork Boss laughed and said something Noah could hardly understand. “Big armored Humies still naw match fir da Boyz!” Its jaw was covered behind a large metal toothed frame. It raised a twin-linked shoota to Noah’s head, who reacted by cutting right through the barrel of the gun and then jabbing into the Ork’s chest, cutting right through the alien’s crude armor. The Boss fell to a knee with a yelp. He made one more attempt for Noah’s leg with his power claw.
He caught Noah’s lower leg in an iron grip. Noah could feel his armor beginning to break under the pressure, so he fought through the awkward position he was in on the ground and managed to get a single bolt pistol shot off into the Ork boss’s face.

He was then able to cut through the power claw and return to his feet. The Ork was grabbing the upper left portion of its head with the hand that previously held the shoota, and screaming in pain. Noah spoke over the Ork as it looked Noah’s helm in the eyes.

“I would ask what name you go by, but you clearly don’t matter.”
The sound of a Waaagh! type yell climbed the Ork Boss’s throat as it clamored for Noah’s form. Noah stood firm as the Ork’s large hand gripped the edge of his left shoulder guard and tried to pull him down. The Ork’s morale was finished. Noah brushed off its hand with his bolt pistol before decapitated the Green skin filth in one defining swing as the rest of his squad watched. Noah stepped back as his seven brothers relentlessly fired rounds into the Ork Boss’s body in revenge of Klaus before William burned the Ork’s remains to nothing with his melta gun. All but the bastard’s skull.
An Ork boy saw and yelled the news of the fallen leader. As their forces began to scatter, the wagon’s still thundering turrets were silenced by the note of a demolisher canon, as one of the crusade’s vindicators had found its way up the beach and into the battle. The gretchin manning the wagon’s turrets had hit the backs of their allies more than anything else.

Bartholomew’s carapace was badly dented and the saw blades of the deff dreads had done significant damage as well, but he still stood.

Noah spoke through his vox once more, “Brother Elzar to the front lines, this is Noah. I have one lightly wounded, one badly wounded….and one dead.”


The Stalemate:

“Thirteen of our brothers died that day Jürgen. Seven of those thirteen died as soon as they set foot onto the first battle the Imperjias Krusts was involved in. The shame was taken onto those of us still living, not those who died. We had plenty of time to plan and search for a better opportunity to begin our assault on the Orks, so we likely jumped the gun. Though we were all eager to adorn the badges and icons of another new crusade upon our armor, not to mention fight Orks again. Though we all hate Orks as much as the next being, it could be said that there does lay one comfort in fighting them, and that is familiarity. For several years we had been fighting the Tau for the first time, and as you know ended up in a long standing stalemate with them. We were then off to fight in the Realm of Ultramar against the new Tyranid xenos, which obviously, none of us had faced before either. So, there was some initial relief among those of us assigned to the separating fleet.”

“Our sins that were enacted through those sighs of relief at facing what we thought was a lesser enemy, did not go unpunished.”

“We had taken the beach, and we had fortified the surrounding hills. The hills were our walls, and the shore our landing zone. Once on the mainland our presence was not overlooked. Most likely Orks who escaped our wrath ran to the neighboring tribe leaders, who subsequently spread the word of our arrival before heading our way.”

“Two tribes were attacking the hills from opposite sides. We kept them at bay for days, and then weeks. We were all eager to move on with the crusade that was meant to be more of errand than anything else. We soon wished to return to our former fleet to aide our brothers against the Tyranid threat…they surely needed it. We had little way of moving forward and Thelial was at a loss. All we could do was defend and hold our position, killing a few Orks at a time while more hordes were crossing this world’s crust to find us.”

“Our rage began to boil. We had just come from a stalemate war against the Tau that was never won, and a short time later we found ourselves tied up yet again, and now it was against the pitiful minds of the Orks!! Thirteen brothers had already died!”

Jürgen watched as Brother Abrahm spoke, who was becoming angry just from remembering how he had felt. Abrahm took a deep breath and continued onwards, away from the tribute to Brother Noah. They came to a nearby intersection of the hallways. To their left was a hallway that ended maybe twenty feet away from them. At the end of it, three huge statues of space marines unfamiliar to Jürgen stood tall, with a grated window on the high ceiling above them casting a cool light over their heads while dozens of fire lit lanterns danced closer to their feet. Making their way closer, Jürgen could see a symbol in the large stone slab that the three statues stood on. Carved into the stone and filled in with black paint was a skull with three lightning bolts shooting from it in a triangular fashion. To the left of the symbol the stone slab was painted red, and to the right of the symbol the stone was painted white.

Abrahm looked up at the statues alongside Jürgen and spoke with admiration, “Our saving grace, the Storm Lords. A fellow chapter we remain in debt to, though only as an obligation. If they are ever in need of assistance I can assure you, the Imperijas Krusts will be the first to arrive

You can never be prepared for the unexpected



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Both of these pictures are as they are now. Their armors now have more on them than they did during the stories being told. Currently in the story Abrahm is still wearing his ceremonial robes and is not wearing his power armor.

(present) Brother Abrahm (Abe-rum) in full battle gear.



(present) Brother Noah



and near future Jürgen


You can never be prepared for the unexpected



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The Storm Lords: (in cooperation with Dark angel's storm lords fluff, that's dark angel the heresyonline user of course.)

The thumping of heavy gun fire, exploding shells beyond the hills; they mimicked Thelial's footsteps as he paced over the soft mixture of sand and soil. All around him were his terminators, always watchful over their commander and ready to die for him at a moment's notice. Some of his sword brethren did not wear terminator armor, as the splinter fleet was only able to bring so many of the sacred relics. The crusade had only twenty: ten for standard terminators and ten for assault class terminators. Nine terminators stood around him, and his assault terminators were elsewhere. The twentieth suit was his, but just as in the Damocles Crusade he still preferred his tactical power armor.

One of his Sword Brethren not wearing terminator approached at a jog. It was Brother John, who was in command of the squads defending the northern hills. "Brother Marshal Thelial," he said before finishing his steps and already bowing his head, "The Orks' numbers to the north only appear to be getting larger. We simply don't have the artillery needed to weaken them significantly."

Thelial knew he was right, he had known it from the start. They had three predator tanks and one vindicator split between the North and Southeast hill lines trying to hold back two separate armies. Only so many of the Orks were foolish enough to run in without their commanders, and get close enough for bolter range. Thelial put a black armored hand through his crest of blond hair, taking a deep breath, and replied, "Brother Thomas recently reported a similar situation concerning the Orks to the Southeast. Our strength has never been in range; we differ from our ancestors greatly in that sense. The Orks were all over this continent, Grendela as the locals called it. I know their need for war wont last for all of them to gather, but their leaders are doing well in keeping them at bay. At this point even if we wait for them to charge through these hills, I expect it would be a loss for us. It is not our way to sit back and wait, but in this case taking the offense would mean a certain death that I am not prepared to order. This crusade has barely begun and I do not intend to fail my role as Marshal after mere weeks!

A new voice came from behind Thelial, "Commander."

Thelial turned on his heel, cape flowing behind him. A Black Templar clad in white power armor stood before him, nine marines in standard colors stood behind his glorious form. All of them bore the large jump packs upon their power armor, the wide dull-silver vents hefted over their shoulders.

He continued, "If this squad is needed to lead the charge out of these hills, just say the word commander. If we must all die so that our brothers can reach the Orks, then our purpose shall be served with righteousness."

Thelial replied, "Virgil..." he shook his head slowly, "You are among the last of my warriors whom I would throw so foolishly away."

Virgil instantly knelt to one knee, "You have my utmost gratitude marshal. Very well, I shall be the guiding light in this battle when, and where, your holy eyes see fit to place me. Me and my battle brothers will await your glorious command. and with this he and his assault marines moved onwards with their prior task.

Thelial turned to brother Paul, "I'm afraid to ask if you think there was any sarcasm present. I was only just promoted..."

Paul replied promptly, "Virgil knows not the meaning of sarcasm brother, his words pour from a well of truth and faith that lays at the heart of his soul. He does not doubt the commands that come from above, he only carries them out to the letter...with a striking exactness, and near unfathomable success."

"As I said, I would be a fool to throw such a warrior away, to hand him to the enemy like that...The Orks will charge these hills before I ever command him to jump into their midst." said Thelial.

A few hours passed before Thelial recieved the astonishing news of...an answer. The Crozius had sent a message through his battle helm. The Storm Lords had arrived in orbit. The message stated that their founding chapter, the White Scars, were helping defend against the Tyranids in the Realm of Ultramar. They had traveled galactic ordinal northwest to help ensure their founding brothers' backs were covered; the same reason the Imperjias Krusts had been created and parted from the main Black Templar fleet heading in that direction.

The Storm Lords were asking permission to aide here, seeing that the Templars had arrived first. They had been known for their diplomatic tongues...though Thelial would have allowed them to come planet-side without argument in any case. As embarrassing as it may have been, it was the help he needed to get his blood brothers out of this entrapment. He contacted The Crozius to reply his answer, and told them he agreed whole heartedly, and to thank them for their support. The Emperor watched over his sons as he always did. He had given Thelial the time, and pressure, to see the huge potential of his mistakes, of his sins; but just before all hope was lost, such support had arrived.

Thelial stood atop the highest hills during the setting sun, as he watched the red and white colored comets plummet through the clouds. He watched as the ranks of his black templars marched forward through the passes, towards the smoke filled distance, and he watched and listened to the rumble of the white snake-like trails of warbikes, as they slithered into the crashing waves of the green-tide.

You can never be prepared for the unexpected



Last edited by unxpekted22; 07-07-10 at 01:53 AM.
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