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post #31 of 105 (permalink) Old 09-27-14, 06:20 PM
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Iapetus regarded the Dark Angel with narrowed eyes and curled lips. His utterance of Iron Within, the creed of the Iron Warriors, the Olympian way of life, disgusted him. I should snap your neck, he thought, as the Third Captain retreated away. Snap your neck and crush your skull. Iapetus remembered a time where he valued the companionship, and advice, of Lion El'Jonson's sons. Now they were his sworn enemies, hated paragons of a decaying Imperium.

'He's an odd one,' Lugerev said, jutting a thumb at the First Legionary. 'I don’t think I’ve ever heard someone’s opinion change so quickly,' He laughed, merrily. 'First you will only hinder his success, and now things will most assuredly go smoother if the two of you combine your efforts. That is quite confusing.'

The Shipwright grinned. Lugerev's madness was always an hindrance, a worrying condition, but it was also entertaining. 'He hounds glory,' Iapetus said, wetting his lips. 'The Dark Angel is Pelegon's favoured pet, an assassin, a spy - Creeping closer and closer to the Warsmith,' He shook his head. 'How long until Pelegon lays with a slit throat?'

'That’s a very good point, actually,' The Apothecary reflected. 'Being such a master at sabotage and born of what is still considered a loyal legion to the throne on Terra, should cause our Warsmith a bit more concern. I rather miss Endymion and Krotas.'

'Don't we all?' Iapetus sneered. 'We are a dying breed, Lugerev. On times, I regret ever fleeing Terra. We should have stood, stood and died, rather than face this long-death.'


‘Yes..' Lugerev drawled, eyes turning to the ceiling. 'Stood, as stubborn and unfaltering as any of the Iron Warriors before us. Perhaps it is there we lost ourselves, then. I think it is safe to assume we were not the only ones, at least, who lost our way that day.’

Iapetus placed his hands on the tables, palms flat against the surface, and sighed. 'We keep the company of Dark Angels and Night Lords. Half of our brothers' hearts pump with the blood of our enemies.'

'Pelegon justifies this mission over ten pairs of Gene-seed. I lost another one of Kunzhardt's men today, due to a training accident. Gene-seed is quite fragile. Most likely, all ten, if captured, wouldn't make it into a final product fully intact and stable anyway. I suppose I am good enough,' Lugerev traced a pattern on the table with his fingers. ‘Iapetus, I do not like the idea of mutts in our midst. Mongrels, hybrids, half-breeds,' He cocked his head, smiled - A smile that was undoubtedly happy, and yet, made Iapetus shiver. 'You know this.'

The Shipwright did. He nodded, and spoke. 'Our breed is endangered. The Iron Tenth, Ultramarines, Imperial Fists,' His teeth ground together. 'And now Salamanders? Those which we fought against, those that bled us dry, haunt our ranks.'

Lugerev's gaze hardened. Iapetus understood that look, and the tone which the Apothecary took. ‘Just make sure I get to that Gene-seed first. I don't want anyone else touching it.'

He turned, then, and marched away, footsteps clattering against the stone floors. Iapetus watched him go, until he disappeared, and then left himself. Preparations would have to be made - The Seventh, some four hundred brothers, Olympians one and all, would have to be mobilised. An inspection of his Company, and the Nineteenth's fleet, would follow. It was his duty, as Shipmaster, to assure the fleet was ready. Last minute repairs, and crew replacements, would be implemented. Iapetus prided himself with the fleet's greatness, it was his tool, his weapon. He, as much as Pelegon, had honed it into a well-crafted machine.

His mind throbbed, and Coeus's ethereal-voice, soft and fleeting, filled his head. It was a summoning, to his Witch-Twin's chambers.

Iapetus grunted an affirmation, unsure if Coeus still listened, and changed his path.

'Brother,' He voxed, upon arriving, and finding them empty. He had detoured, moving amongst the Grand Company, amongst the half-breeds and the sycophants. It was not a pleasant experience, witnessing the degradation of a once-great brotherhood. 'Where are you?

Nyctophobia- Fear of the Dark Angel.

"No one ever spoke about of those two absent brothers. Their separate tragedies had seemed like aberrations. Had they, in fact, been warnings that no one had heeded?"

'Killing a man is like fucking, boy, only instead of giving life you take it. You experience the ecstasy of penetration as your warhead enters the enemy's belly and the shaft follows. You see the whites of his eyes roll inside the sockets of his helmet. You feel his knees give way beneath him and the weight of his faltering flesh draw down the point of your spear. Are you picturing this?'
'Yes, lord.'
'Is your dick hard yet?'
'No, lord.'
''What? You've got your spear in a man's guts and your dog isn't stiff? What are you, a woman?'
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post #32 of 105 (permalink) Old 09-29-14, 10:23 PM Thread Starter
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The Ferra Perpetua pushed forward through the Warp, its sharp prow carving aside and deflecting currents of unreality as easily as a scalpel through soft flesh, forming the point of the spear, the rest of which constituted the XIXth Grand Company's fleet, though none could match the ironclad giant in size or firepower. Despite being a far cry from the Goriana-class behemoths such as the Iron Blood, the Ferra was exceptionally armed and maintained to the Warsmith's exacting standards, and had not partaken in a retreat since the siege of Olympia. Despite millennia in the Warp, its surface remained unadulterated and brutally functional, the skull of Perturabo adorning the prow to leave its foes in no uncertainty that it was the burning wrath of the Iron IVth that they faced. A relic of a bygone era, its appearance in realspace always heralded the death of thousands - a bloody reminder to the Imperium of Man of the sons that it had betrayed and abandoned.

The bridge was, unlike that of most ships, a place of quiet order, where armoured astartes moved and worked with industrious purpose. Each knew their place and order of business, and worked away, whether monitoring sensors or operating a set of panels that controlled one of the many systems that kept the mighty voidship operational. On a raised dais stood the assembled commanders of the XIXth, muted and ready to receive the words of their Warsmith, who stood at their head, by a huge metal cylinder of unknown provenance, large enough to house a dreadnought. His helmet was removed, and without it still stood half a head taller than even Lucian. He had not aged much over the seven millennia since the Heresy, black hair slicked back from his head and harsh features heavily lined, but not yet wrinkled. The Olympian's face was calm and almost serene, but in his dark eyes there burned a hatred so intense that it was clear to any who looked that it had consumed him long ago.

"You know by heart our standard method of warfare; to break our foe through the methodical and careful application of force. Like a neck between our fingers, pressure must be applied in the correct places until we feel give, and upon their yielding to our efforts we do not relent; instead we move the pressure to those failing zones and double it there, and keep applying it until our fingers meet the palms of our hands. The guns of the XIXth have yet to fail to bring a foe to their knees, but for this campaign I do not intend to use them - insofar as we usually do"

The captains' reactions were mixed. Their facial expressions varied from surprise to outrage, though some remained stone-faced and unresponding. However, they said nothing, and after looking around, Pelegon continued, derision now clear in his voice.

"The Wolves have long held a deep love for mortals, viewing, at times, the lives of the individuals that make up their rotten empire as important as the empire itself. To that end, they have performed foolish acts on the battlefield to do no more than save handfuls of mortal lives. This is something that we will exploit. They presume that the mortals on Pelexis are safe under their care; I intend to prove to them that their protection is worthless. The mortals are to be used as weapons against them, to draw them out of their lair - and in the act, ensure that the Imperium learns that they cannot be allowed to forget us"

Pelegon's voice, usually a bassy growl, had dropped to a rumble that could be more easily felt than heard, the hatred and anger in his voice driving it down several octaves.

"This is a plan that must be played out exactly if it is to have the effect that I desire. Think of this less a battle than a culling. On the table before you are data-slates, each marked for one of you. Take them and study, we will enter realspace in the Pelexis system in 38 hours. Iron Within"

The Warsmith turned and sat on his command throne, a huge chair of burnished iron set into the wall at the back of the bridge. From his wrist-mounted cogitator snaked a wire, hooking itself into a bank of computers to his left, monitoring the marines at the helm of the Ferra Perpetua. What ancient technology Pelegon used to allow his men to pilot the ship through the empyrean was unknown even to the Master of the Forge, but all the captains knew that it was due to the huge cylinder that sat next to the Warsmith's command throne. Lacking any markings or decoration, it had nothing on its exterior that might have hinted at the contents within, but the older commanders did know that the Warsmith had spent more than a fortnight sometime in M32 sealed in his tower developing it.

Tyranus
Your data-slate holds for you a most interesting piece of information; the formation of hammer and anvil is to be used to ultimately destroy the wolves, and the Tyranthikos are to be the hammer. The first stage of the assault will involve heavy planetary bombardment designed to eliminate precisely two-thirds of the human population, followed by capture and enslavement of all who survive. After that, the Tyranthikos have been instructed to return to the Ferra and await deployment. Work below your station, perhaps to start with, but the honour of the kill is ultimately to be yours.

Kunzhardt
Your data-slate informs you that this will not be a challenging deployment for you, to your chagrin. The bombardment from orbit is nothing of any difficulty, firing, as you will be, on undefended civilian hab-blocks and settlements. After that, you are to fire precisely around the Wolf's Claw and level the ground around it, without harming the fortress - though your orders inform you that you will be deployed planetside between the two bombardment orders, which is unusual. Usually the latter would be orchestrated from the bridge of the Ferra. After that, your orders detail that you are to conduct precise barrages designed to destroy the transmission and sensor equipment of the Wolf's Claw, and then shell it with smoke rounds until the defensive perimeter around the fortress has been constructed. Your orders do not extend beyond that.

Lucian, Iapetus, Lugerev
The Warsmith has told you that in the taking of the Fist of Russ transmission signals for aid are not to be blocked, and that the exact location of the cruiser will be given to you once the Ferra's sensor arrays determine them upon Warp exit. Beyond that, you have been given no further instruction, having been given it in the Eisenschloss. However, Lugerev's data-slate does have one additional line:
Do not disappoint me.

Adriun
Your data-slate contains the blueprint for a tower; it is to be constructed opposite the front gate of the Wolf's Claw, on the outside edge of the defensive ring that the 6th, 8th, 9th and 10th companies are to erect around the fortress, just out of range of its guns. The tower is a strange, baroque structure, containing a conveyor belt designed to transport light loads to the top, and covered with other small platforms and upward-pointing spikes. It will be easy enough to fashion once planetside, but its purpose is unrevealed. Another request that you have is for a steel full-fit mask in the shape of the Iron Skull - one that is of such a size that it could only fit the head of an astartes, with a request that it be taken plentside after the defensive ring has been constructed and kept at a temperature at which it will retain malleability. Both these orders are simple enough for one of your skill.

Vargus
Your orders tell you that 10th company, in co-ordination with 6th, 8th and 9th, are to assault the remaining human population centres after the bombardment and capture as many mortals as possible. A defensive ring of trenches and emplacements is to be erected around the Wolf's Claw with a radius equivalent to just over the maximum range of their guns - this known as the pattern of fortress is of a standard Imperial template. The human slaves are to be kept in compounds surrounding the defensive ring, and you are informed that there will be a signaled assault, though the time of this is not specified.

Coeus
Your data slate has the orders of the other captains on it, and a message from the Warsmith reminding you that orders from you pertaining to investigation and purification are to be taken as orders directly from him. You are also told that purity will be of especial importance due to the nature of the campaign to be conducted after this one.

This next update will take us through transit; the next, to be on the 4th of October, will place the XIXth in the Pelexis system and in orbit, followed by stage one of the battle plan.
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post #33 of 105 (permalink) Old 09-30-14, 04:20 PM
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The conversation with the Seer had been cut short by their deployment and likely for the better. Blood would have been spilt within the halls of the Second had the discussion carried any further. Vhalos had ensured that the might of the Mechanized Fist was aboard the Ferra Perpetua and stayed true to his word. The Second held their own quarters within the Warsmith's flagship as the main source of firepower on the ground in any conflict. They would never want nor have a flagship to announce their importance. The presence of the Ferra Perpetua was enough to send most mortals waste down their legs. The domain of the second here was almost identical to their location in Eisenschloss and carried much the same training facility albeit it catered towards less bloody combat to avoid going into the breach at less than full capacity.

Within the multiple hangars that made up the Second's kingdom Kunzhardt had prepared his troops for siege and toxins. He would make an example to all that would come to this world after them would know that not even the Angelic loyal Astartes while sitting on their porch could do nothing but bleed and die like everyone else under overwhelming Iron. Everything was going well and the Second captain thought again on the presence of taint within the Grand Company and worst within his own. He'd made a personal point to be with the investigation at every possible moment but even he couldn't ignore the call of the Warsmith. Was this just the final drop of the plan? To show weakness in will to have the deadly warmachine delivered to Adruin before him? Then to show weakness in Iron by having taint revealed within the chapter? Was there any taint at all? Coeus would always find a more critical eye falling upon the mud blooded companies and his had always bore a mutual abrasion for the Librarium. This would not stand for long. He'd waited for too long to speak directly with the Warsmith.

With the meeting of the captains disperesed Kunzhardt retrieved his respective data slate and walked slowly from the room with everyone else when he realized what his charge would be and all at once turned on heel and marched back onto the bridge helmet in hand and moved directly for the large chair resting in the rear of the bridge.

A colossal clang echoed through the room as the power fist slammed into an open palm to meet greeting the Warsmith with a bowed head.

"Warsmith I wish to have an audience regarding the Pelexis deployment and the purpose of the 2nd Company. I welcome the promise of campaign and slaughter-but this is just that-a slaughter without challenge and glory-little more than target practice for our orbital guns."

If you need to get a hold of me my Skype is zhnthebox
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post #34 of 105 (permalink) Old 09-30-14, 07:30 PM
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Adriun arrived with the other Captains as was requested, before docking he had delivered Ten brand new Fellglaives to the Captain of the Second as he had always planned on doing, whether or not Kunzhardt took it as some sort of play by the Master of the Forge was not Adriun’s concern, it was a simple act of camaraderie and hopefully cemented some trust. However he looked on at all that had gathered and nodded in kind, and then turned his attention to the Warsmith, who looked rather hateful at the moment; the Imperium’s Loyal Pups brought the worst out of him.

--"You know by heart our standard method of warfare; to break our foe through the methodical and careful application of force. Like a neck between our fingers, pressure must be applied in the correct places until we feel give, and upon their yielding to our efforts we do not relent; instead we move the pressure to those failing zones and double it there, and keep applying it until our fingers meet the palms of our hands. The guns of the XIXth have yet to fail to bring a foe to their knees, but for this campaign I do not intend to use them - insofar as we usually do"--

Adriun was unfazed by this development, he wondered why but it did not shock him at all.

--"The Wolves have long held a deep love for mortals, viewing, at times, the lives of the individuals that make up their rotten empire as important as the empire itself. To that end, they have performed foolish acts on the battlefield to do no more than save handfuls of mortal lives. This is something that we will exploit. They presume that the mortals on Pelexis are safe under their care; I intend to prove to them that their protection is worthless. The mortals are to be used as weapons against them, to draw them out of their lair - and in the act, ensure that the Imperium learns that they cannot be allowed to forget us"--

This development though panged at something deep within himself, ideas he hid deep in the storage banks of his Cogitator, where only he could look, a tactic he had learned in dealing with Psykers, he could just keep information he wished private out of his biological mind, and separate from his conscious and unconscious desires. He just barely stopped himself from having visions of his child hood. He maintained his stoic face but deep within his cogitator, disgust brewed.

He nodded and took note of the Warsmith’s brutal seriousness in his conviction to maintain his plan.

--"This is a plan that must be played out exactly if it is to have the effect that I desire. Think of this less a battle than a culling. On the table before you are data-slates, each marked for one of you. Take them and study, we will enter realspace in the Pelexis system in 38 hours. Iron Within"--

-------------------------------------------------------------

With the meeting concluded, he browsed his data slate, taking rapid note of the plan he had to execute, he wondered at the purpose of the tower, and he could assume much from it. The Platforms could make excellent weapon emplacements, and the conveyor could easily move munitions, however he feared a far more disturbing purpose due to its positioning. He quickly rejected the idea, it had to have some military application, he hoped.

He sighed as he walked the corridors, and he voxed his Master Architek, one Eryx Anagos, an Olympian born Tech-Marine who showed great aptitude in construction, he was an eccentric one, holding true to old Olympian tenets.

“Architek Eryx, I am sending you blue prints for a construction project, I need the components readied for assembly, and I have added additional notes to modify the plan for a stronger faster assembly regarding its internal structure and supports.”

Adriun was literally analyzing the construct and making the structure more efficient without any loss of shape or function, which was streamed live to the Architek.

“Ah, Adriun you are true to your arête as always, the structures’ balance is commendable, though I do dislike the décor, but it is what the Warsmith wants and that is not questionable. It shall be done.”

Eryx musings were always strange, but it had to do with how he perceived his work, as art. Adriun had received tutelage under the Olympian in his rise through the Factorum, and had come to respect the art innate to technology.

Eryx himself hummed as machines sprang to life and began to manufacture the skeleton of the tower for assembly on the surface.

“Thank you Eryx, that is all, keep me updated on the progress.” Adriun only heard the hums of some tune from an orchestral piece that he could not name, Eryx was lost to his art, and so he cut the line.

He was alone in his sympathy with mortals, there were some within his company that had a better view of mortals, but it wasn’t close to actually caring about their lives. Were they no better than monsters? Like those of his childhood, they were carrion beasts ready to feast on innocent flesh just because they could; the Wolves had proven themselves superior in one aspect, morality. At least they had not forgotten where they came from, as each Astartes was once Human, only the enhancements and training separated them from common man. Adriun could understand the ends justifying the means, but what did the Iron Warriors fight for? An ideal? No it seemed they only wished to prove something to the Imperium, but what was that? That the XIXth did not need daemons to act like them? He was unsure what to make of it all.

--------------------------------------------------------

He sighed as he continued his mind a buzz as he entered the forge and set about constructing the steel helm, he had an idea of how Pelegon intended to use it. It was to be a torture mask he assumed, to shame the Wolf leader. Or at least he guessed, only time would tell, but it did not take long for him to do, he had the mask done within the hour, only spending extra time to ensure it was perfect. He set it down and then assembled his wargear.
He looked upon his blade, tracing his armored finger upon it, a weapon of death, just as he himself was. His shield, was life, it was to defend and protect, could Iron no longer protect, would it only be used to kill and soak in the blood of victims and gather rust from blood. He should let such thought cloud his mind though, but it was difficult as he had never participated in a battle of slaughter during his time in the XIXth. He had known there were casualties in war, that was a simple fact, and something he accepted easily, but to directly target civilians was something he had never done. Civilians had always been a tertiary casualty that simply resulted from war, but he so no purpose in them being primary targets.

In the end though, as he cleaned his sword and shield and checked their power field emitters, he knew he would have to differ to the Warsmith’s judgment, but maybe just maybe he could save some from this terrible fate. The Mechanicus could always use knew recruits, especially those of an impressionable age.

He smiled under his helmet, now he had a valid reason to save some from the fate that Pelegon would enact upon the unsuspecting Imperial citizens. He couldn’t save the families, much like his own family was beyond saving, but he could give the offspring the same chance he had, did they not deserve it? He believed not even the Warsmith could rightfully make a judgment on that.

He was about to call for his head Genetor when Loakk himself entered.

“Adriun, what news did the Warsmith have? What is our objective planet side?”

Loakk was perceptive as ever, then again the Master Genetor had known Adriun since he had come to work in the Factorum, and through his rise through Mechanicus ranks.

“Pelegon has ordered a planetary bombardment of all major civilian hubs on the planet, and then to enslave them…..much like our more rusted brothers.” Adriun said dryly.

Loakk being taller looked down at Adriun, his enhanced eyes scanning his armored form, if he had not worn a helmet, Loakk would know his thoughts by facial expression alone.

“This displeases you I assume, but the Warsmith does not make such commands lightly, it has purpose even if its not easily seen, this slaughter must have value otherwise he would not waste the resources, as our guns are better spent on something that can fight back.”

Loakk was right of course, the Humans death’s were part of something much bigger than just some pathetic backwater world, but Adriun didn’t see why they just annexed the people, more bodies to work for the XIXth and pay tribute would be better, would it not? At least Adriun thought as much.

“I just see it as a waste, they could be used by us, and does the Mechanicus no longer need recruits? I don’t believe so, and more people to be made loyal to us make us stronger and more able to enact our Iron will on the Galaxy.”

Adriun knew the Tech Guard could use more to bolster their ranks, and the planets criminals could be used to make more servitors, and children could be raised in ways of the machine, to keep their human ranks full of highly skilled individuals. There was also the possibility of potential recruits among the populace.

Loakk simply looked on, and his tongue licked the air briefly before retreating in rapid succession.

“Yes, we could use more recruits, we train only the best, and those that become marines, would become even better than their mortal counter parts, but what you do not see is the Warsmith’s hate, the Wolves are hated for a reason, they are weak because of their passion for mortals, it can be used against them. I do not hate mortals, I hate the Imperium that governs them, and I despise our brothers who cast us aside so easily for their false Emperor, not that I believed Horus to be the better option anyways.”

Adriun didn’t have much to say, he was seeing that maybe he jumped to conclusions.

“Adriun can you playback the exact word’s of the Warsmith.” Loakk requested, and Adriun obliged him.

“As you can see this is a strike against the Imperium, that abandoned us after we built its empire, one that should be ours, but these cowards devalued our work and ostracized us, think not of the citizens but of the message it brings, that they should not forget what they did, we built them, and we will break them. We can do it better, and they are deluded in believing they can protect anything from we who built them up.”


This is why Loakk was his advisor and right hand, he had experience, and experience that involved emotion at that, unlike Furthuum, whose advice relied on pure logic and lack of empathy. Adriun needed both types of advice, each for different times, and Loakk’s was the correct one right now. Loakk continued speaking.

“I know of your past Adriun, I know why you see this as a waste, because you yourself could have just as easily been a statistic. Take pride in that though, but continue with the Warsmith’s plans, and I would not assume that the Warsmith is not willing to listen just yet, I would suggest proposing to him that the Mechanicus could use young recruits, that is reasonable, and should be all you can expect to get. Let the rest burn, they suffer because of their protectors, not because of us.”

Adriun nodded, the loyalists had brought this on themselves, Loakk dismissed himself, but not before one final input.

“Master of the Forge, when you decide to speak with the Warsmith, ask him first to grant me permission to harvest Wolf Geneseed for my experiments, it is unworthy of recruits and should be used to garner more understanding of Geneseed. Iron Within, Adriun.”

Loakk croaked as he pounded his fists together in salute, Adriun returned the salute as well.

“Iron Without.”

He sighed and then purged his mind of his thoughts, and deleted unnecessary thoughts and stored again his memories in his cogitator’s data banks, and closed it behind a digital wall. Keep the pertinent requests in his mind though he stowed his weapons away, having selected his load out for the mission, and the Steel Masque set in a specialized container to keep it heated and malleable.

He took off his helmet, his face and mind devoid of his previous thoughts, carefully deleted, digitally and chemically. He headed back to the bridge, as his task was done, his forces beyond ready.


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post #35 of 105 (permalink) Old 10-01-14, 04:15 AM
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Aboard the Iron Tyrant the First Captain oversaw as a member of the Librarius made his way through the ranks of the Tyranthikos. Tyranus would not impede their investigations, knowing full well that there was no taint of the warp borne powers within his Company. Still, the Astartes he had summoned stood before him now in full Cataphractii plate. "Draxus, you shall serve now as my equerry and a member of my Honor Guard." The Cataphractii plate that Draxus wore was annointed with all of the markings of the Honor Guard, though his weaponry differed slightly from that of the two Honor Guard that typically went everywhere with the First Captain. His right hand was encased in a cataphractii lightning claw, at his left hip was a mag locked storm bolter like those of his brethren. Tyranus' motives were simple, the closer his equerry was to him, the less chance there was of The Librarius' investigation being able to directly question him.

--------------------------------
With his three Honor Guard in tow, Dayus, Karius the Elder and Draxus, Tyranus watched the data slates and projections in the center of the briefing chamber and listened intently to the WarSmith's plans for their siege and suppression of Pelexis III. The three warriors stood silent and motionless behind their Lord as the plans were laid out before them, their heads moved about, ever on high alert on their Lord's behalf.

"You know by heart our standard method of warfare; to break our foe through the methodical and careful application of force. Like a neck between our fingers, pressure must be applied in the correct places until we feel give, and upon their yielding to our efforts we do not relent; instead we move the pressure to those failing zones and double it there, and keep applying it until our fingers meet the palms of our hands. The guns of the XIXth have yet to fail to bring a foe to their knees, but for this campaign I do not intend to use them - insofar as we usually do." Pelegon spoke with a starkness to his tone, but the note that they would fight in a way that was unusual for them peaked Tyranus' interest, and not in a favorable way. Why should we fight in any way that would compromise our effectiveness when we are masters of our craft of warfare? For the time being he allowed his opinion to be spoken in his mind only.

"The Wolves have long held a deep love for mortals, viewing, at times, the lives of the individuals that make up their rotten empire as important as the empire itself. To that end, they have performed foolish acts on the battlefield to do no more than save handfuls of mortal lives. This is something that we will exploit. They presume that the mortals on Pelexis are safe under their care; I intend to prove to them that their protection is worthless. The mortals are to be used as weapons against them, to draw them out of their lair - and in the act, ensure that the Imperium learns that they cannot be allowed to forget us." Pelegon continued and more information came forward that Tyranus was displeased with. He wondered just how much of this campaign was to be beneficial for the XIXth beyond stoking the flames of a grudge that Pelegon held for some wrong that was not some seven thousand years old. The Imperium has not forgotten us Brother, of that I can assure you. Taking this world will be a statement in of itself, these theatrics are unnecessary. The displeasure of the newly assigned mission continued to build up for Tyranus as he mulled over the information given to them.

As they were dismissed, given 38 hours to be fully prepared for enactment of their battle plans, Tyranus immediately began to overlook his data slate. He left last of his Brother Captains and as he exited he could not help but notice the pause of the Second Captain in the main hallway. Something had clearly struck The Captain of the Second Company. Tyranus then broke off down an adjacent and dismissed anything from his mind that did not have to do immediately with his tasks at hand. He quickly sorted through his data slate, looking over the plans, poring over the information and the stratagem within.

The Hammer and Anvil, he thought to himself as he saw the formation and operations itinerary laid out. It was a tried and true method wherein a fortification was battered with orbital and/or planetary based siege before the Tyranthikos were unleashed to inflict their own brand of warfare. The most savage, vicious, borderline sadistic and skilled melee fighters in the XIXth found their way into the First Company and as such they were perfect for taking heavily fortified bastions. More than that even, they were highly adept at killing Astartes still loyal to the False Emperor, for they had experience in doing so for thousands of years.

As he read on though, Tyranus found plans for an operation that the Tyranthikos were decidedly not purpose built for. The savage, ruthless, merciless warriors of the First Company, according to these battle plans were to be tasked as enslavers and cattle herders. "There is no glory in this, only the breach of the Wolf's Claw itself holds true glory." He made an immediate about face, forcing his Equerry Draxus to jump back and press himself against the wall of the corridor to allow his Lord to pass by unabated. Karius the Elder looked to the new Honor Guard member with a nod that indicated he was pleased with their newest member's reflexes. The trio of Tyranthikos slotted back into their formation behind Tyranus as he marched back to the bridge of the Ferra Perpetua.

He entered, flanked by his Honor Guard, as First Captain he was begrudgingly welcome on the bridge of the XIXth's flagship. "-out challenge and glory-little more than target practice for our orbital guns." Tyranus overheard the final bits and pieces of The Second Captain's petition to the WarSmith. Pelegon would not be fond of two dissenting voices, but he needed answers. "Captain Kunzhardt, I see that I am not the only one with questions about our latest deployment." Tyranus nodded respectfully to Kunzhardt, but only after acknowledging Pelegon "WarSmith," his bow to Pelegon was slightly more pronounced, but it was clear that the First Captain was not here for pleasantries.

"WarSmith, with all respect, I would speak with you about our newest campaign." Tyranus measured his words, he needed to be direct, but not critical of his comrade and leader's battle plans, especially in front of Kunzhardt, who likely was also here with some complaint, though Tyranus figured that The Mechanized Fist would complain even were he to be given the chances of first glories on a battle field simply because he was a man who could never be satisfied. "I understand the merits and actions of our campaign here WarSmith, but the Tyranthikos are ill suited to take prisoners. The taking of prisoners and slaving of them could possibly be undertaken by a reserve company. I merely wish to know why it is that the First must take up this task Pelegon. Would we not send just as bloody and horrific a message if we simply slaughtered the entire planet?" Tyranus was truly curious as to why the enslavement of the populace was of any concern when slaughtering the people and their protectors would at least to his mind send a more startling reminder to the Imperium that the XIXth was fully operational and prepared for war.
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Adriun walked through the halls, occassionaly linking in with servitor chatter and video via his own link with them, that came from his station as master of the forge. While he may not have been a psyker, he still had ways to get information and be more wary of his surroundings.

He went over his requests in his head, Wolf Gene-seed for Loakk's experiments into better understanding Gene seed, in the hopes of one day being able to replicate it. This request would hopefully soften the blow of his next request, to request the Children of the Civilians to be inducted into the Mechanicus, those that survived...... This disappointed him the most because he believed in their ideals and that they would be better suited to rule than some false emperor. He believed it was their job to spread their iron will and doctrine, and slaughtering a planet and taking slaves seemed counter intuitive to building a force that was loyal to them. He intended to change that, in time.

As he neared the bridge he heard voices, it seemed other were discussing the objectives of the campaign with the Warsmith, this didn't bode well if the Warsmith was not in the mood to hear disagreement. He entered cautiously and awaited patiently at the back. In the meantime he checked his dataslate, Eryx progress in manufacturing the assembly parts was displayed as a progress bar on the screen, he was roughly a quarter of the way done it seemed, he would be finished far before arrival into real-space at this rate.

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post #37 of 105 (permalink) Old 10-02-14, 02:33 PM Thread Starter
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"Are you questioning my planning, Kunzhardt?"

The Warsmith tapped on his cogitator a few more times, having kept a close eye on the formation of the XIXth's fleet, then turned to give the 2nd Captain his full attention. All astartes were the pinnacles of physical perfection, and Pelegon was no exception to this; his features were rugged and would have been, to any mortal, handsomely solid. Hatred twisted them out of shape sometimes, but now they seemed almost serene. He knew how to deal with his different subordinates, and he judged that pacification would be the best course of action.

"When have the 2nd Company not been the linchpin of any of our sieges, Kunzhardt?"

The Warsmith rose to his feet and approached the captain, placing his hand on one of Kunzhardt's pauldrons. There would be need to show some degree of empathy here, though the complaint did, in truth, annoy him.

"This campaign holds little glory for you; some exercise in technical skill regarding the orbital bombardment around the Wolf's Claw, but I am confident in your ability to execute my orders. I also view you as one of my better captains, who seeks excellence over personal glory. Do not be disheartened"

Pelegon then turned to Tyranus, who was giving what essentially boiled down to a petulant whine. The former Night Lord's reluctance to carry out the more menial tasks required of him, and that annoyed the Warsmith. He could have played him off with a compliment, telling the 1st Captain that he had been granted this task as he was the only one with the skill to see it carried out correctly, but a show of strength would be far more satisfying. The Warsmith's face hardened, and when he spoke, his voice was a threateningly low rumble.

"You assume that wanton slaughter is my objective; do not attempt to second-guess me again, Tyranus. It is the way of the IVth to be meticulous, and not to view any task as above us. That was how our erstwhile brothers viewed us, as mere workhorses - our willingness to do what was asked of us became a strength, lent us will and stamina beyond any other. You complain now that gathering slaves is beneath you. How long will it be before you decline to dig me a trench line, viewing a shovel with similar disdain? Dayus, Karius..." the Warsmith paused momentarily as he tried to recall the third, less familiar "...Draxus, kill him"

The three Tyranthikos drew their storm bolters as one and levelled them at Tyranus' head, moving to cover him from three positions. Karius' and Dayus' power fists came to life with a crackle, while Draxus' lightning claws slid from their sheaths. Tyranus was caught between the three veterans and the Warsmith, who raised a hand to indicate that they should hold their fire. None glanced at him, keeping their eyes entirely on their target, but they did hold their fire.

"The Tyranthikos, as with every marine in the XIXth" apart from, perhaps, some of Lucian's fallen angels, and Coeus and Iapetus' dubious fraternal loyalties to each other "is loyal to me first and foremost. I allow my orders to be questioned, but only for good reason. Complain again that the orders you are given are unworth of you and I shall find a more willing replacement. Now get out of my sight"

Tyranus could do nothing; he was caught, and turned to leave, the Tyranthikos following him, weapons put away and deactivated once more.

"One more thing, Tyranus" the Warsmith called from his throne, where he had again taken his seat. His voice was nonchalant, as if what he was saying was almost an afterthought "you are relegated to trench duty until we break orbit. Kunzhardt will have command of the Tyranthikos for duration of this mission"
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The Warsmith was very exacting in how he dealt with his captains, and he chose his threats and soothing with equal care. He had not come to question Pelegon, but to make requests, and he hoped such requests would receive better consideration than outright denial of what he said. He knew he couldn't change the Warsmith's plan but he could adapt to it.

He kept a congenial face and approached, he thought it best to make a report of his progress first and work his way to his requests, and he decided it best to ask apologize to Kunzhardt that he wouldn't get a chance to use his new toys yet.

"First Captain, Second Captain." He nodded in kind to each of them so as not to ignore their presence in dealing with Pelegon. "Warsmith Pelegon." He saluted with a hammered fist to his chest.

"First of all, I apologize Kunzhardt that the Fellglaives are not to be used immediately, but I know you will soon get the chance." He affirmed.

"Warsmith, I have sent the orders to prepare assembly pieces for the tower upon arrival, I have modified them slightly just to make assembly easier, it will maintian its shape and purpose though, I did not alter is finished design."

He looked at the Warsmith, the hulking Astartes was never easy to discern a mood from and he knew that Pelegon was already deciding how to handle him, he only hope that he proved worthy enough to have his requests be considered.

"The Steel masque was also completed to your specification, it is currently stored in a portable Kiln unit to maintain heat."

He paused though his pause was mere microseconds, his Cogitator and enhanced brain only made it seem like he had to think about what he was to say next.

"I have two requests to ask of you regarding the mission Pelegon, Loakk as you can guess has requested access to the Wolves Gene-Seed for experimentation into the nature of gene-seed. His reasons that they are unworthy of use on recruits so they can be put to use with him. I also have my own request regarding the Mechanicus, I wish to take recruits from the children of the planets populace, especially those of extreme youth." He said building his argument for the request.

"Their minds, the most malleable, will not recall our slaughter. We can put them to our Iron ways, and shape their minds to serve both the Mechanicus and the Grandcompany. I assume not all will have the innate skill for technology, and those that don't can go the reserve Regiments of Tech Guard, to bolster our ranks with lesser but completely loyal soldiers, to allow us to spread our Iron will with even more impunity. Also those within the children can be looked over by the Apothecarion for possible Recruits to our ranks as well. This is all I ask, nothing more."

He knew regardless of the outcome he would do as the Warsmith asked, he had to, this was the greatest Grand Company of the Legion, and he wished it to continue to be so, and it only would if they all followed orders.

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As he moved towards the room to which he had been summoned there to hear the Warsmiths words, Vargus reflected on the results of his latest test of his charges. of the one hundred and eighty two recruits he had had in his care only three score and six now remained under his tutelage. Fortunatly for Seer Coeus recruit Aphessius had survived the test albeit with a penetrator round fleeing the battle with one of his eyes. He had instructed Brother Dantioch to escort the recruit to the librarium once the blood had stopped flowing.

As he listened to the Warsmiths words preaching the importance of this assault he paid little heed to them seeing the mission as little more then continuation of the status quo. For all the Warsmiths words of the XIXth being unlike the other grand companies, of being the 'Unbroken' he saw little difference in their actions. Of course they didnt take council with the eternal denizens of the warp but in that should they not make their own path? What glory was there to be had in beating away at the ageing corpse of a hated grandparent? Those however where not his concerns, however much he found his current orders to be distasteful. He had a debt to be paid, he had been elevated to the mantle of a warrior of the XIXth and so had a duty to both it and to the Warsmith.

Perusing his orders as he returned to his quarters among the tenth he felt no surprise at reading what they entailed, assisting with crowd control, a fitting role for his recruit auxillaries, dissapointment flairing however at this likely providing them with little useful training aside from intimidation and manual labour.
Sending a vox message to his brother captains of the sixth eigth and ninth companies he began to prepare in conjunction with his fellows for the coming conflict. His company would be preparing now ensuring they had their carapace plates in working order and their guns were in working order on the ranges. His instructors would be ensuring that his standards were met while he coordinated with the others.
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Pelegon watched the Master of the Forge. He respected Adriun's abilities and innovative tendencies, and knew that his requests were always measured. He had yet to hear an unjustified complaint or suggestion from the younger marine, and that left him on something of a more secure footing with the Warsmith, despite his relative youth compared to some of the other captains.

"The populace, what of it survives our bombardment, will be scanned for potential recruits, as has always been standard practice - as astartes they will be more than they could ever have imagined, grubbing in the dirt of their rotten empire. But for the mechanicus...you know I disdain the use of mortal soldiers. Too unreliable, too weak. That is a request I cannot condone"

The Warsmith shifted in his chair, and rested his chin on a knuckle, briefly in thought.

"Loakk may have as much Wolf gene-seed as he desires, but on the express condition that it is not implanted in any of my recruits, and that it never sees the light of the Imperium again. I was planning on destroying it; an experimental substrate seems a far better use of that resource"
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