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Discussion Starter · #1 · (Edited)
This, my friends, is going to be a series of short stories which detail the rise and fall of Raymond the Templar, who of course is a Black Templar of the Nathaniel Crusade. Hopefully you will all enjoy it, this is the first that I have wrote about the Templars so comments will be more than welcome :)

Brother Raymond of the Black Templars stared at the verdant forestry before him, hands clasped beneath the folds of his cream robes. The winds swirled around him with loud, deafening howls and Raymond grimaced as the cold tendrils slipped along his face. He was an handsome fellow with a grey tinged beard, the original obsidian of which was already retreating so that it formed a narrow band around his delicate lips. His eyes had whitened with age and now the iris had became a palpable grey. These features were all but hidden beneath his crimson trimmed hood however, which had cast his forehead and right half of his face in shadow. The rain began to hit him hard. Oh, how he remembered the rain of Illixia…

Three Hundred Years Previously, Illixia Prime.

The rain hammered against the armoured form of Raymond, who was crouched behind a fallen marble pillar with his Neophyte, Guy. He gave a quick glance around the shattered edge but was forced back into cover by a great stream of weapons fire. Guy was shooting his Bolt-Pistol blindly and wildly, however twice he opened up enemy Cultists like gory flowers. Raymond cocked his Bolter and tapped Guy upon his heraldry-devoid shoulder pauldron, his ceramite encased fingers resounding loudly.

Guy’s head twitched towards him hastily and Raymond crooked over, staring into the handsomely tanned complexion of his fellow. Guy was of nobility and his features mirrored that perfectly, his high cheekbones and broad brow clearly showing his origins. Raymond had chosen Guy six months earlier and this was their second military adventure together, and has he had previously proven, Guy was an exemplar warrior. The rain continued. It was not water however but a steady downpour of glass and ash, of which would lacerate any unprotected flesh. The Cultists, who were aligned to the Pantheon, did not care however.

They relished in the pain however and stood there spread eagled, allowing their flesh to be rendered. Brother Gregor screamed suddenly and tumbled forth, clutching a abrasion in his chest plate. Blood trickled downwards across the Imperial Aquila stitched across his chest and he roared, firing his Bolter one handed into the Cultists arrayed beneath a protective awning. His Neophyte, Zaal, grappled his mentor into cover with a growl and landed hard between a pair of emerald pillars.

‘Guy you need to flank these dogs, they are hampering us! Take Zaal over there with you, me and Gregor shall provide a distraction’ bellowed Raymond over the gunfire, his mouth barely three inches from the ear of Guy.

The Neophyte nodded his braided head and ran off towards where Zaal and Gregor were situated and he mouthed what his Master had planned. Zaal and Gregor both nodded, the former of which took off with Guy down a adjacent alleyway while the latter moved off to join Raymond. The drizzle of glass had eased slightly, and now the tinkering against the armour of the Templars had slowly dulled into nothingness. Gregor went un-helmed and now his face was a pulsating red mass of raw flesh and revealed musculature.

Yet he did not care and grinned cheekily as he slipped in beside his closest friend, clasping gauntlets with his fellow. Both had served together for the best part of a hundred years and were considered all but veterans amongst the Crusade of Marshall Nathanial. The blonde mane of Gregor was pink with blood and dripping thick strands of ichor onto the black veined marble beneath their feet. He let a magazine fall from his Bolter and slipped another one home with an audible click.

‘You ready for this, Greg?’ asked Raymond quietly as the sound of a hundred running feet echoed loudly.

‘Err….It depends on what that would be Ray’ chuckled Gregor and winked, nodding his head as he did so.

With that both Astartes stood, cream robes fluttering and Bolters shouldered. The enemy looked bewildered at the sight of the Templars, who simply howled a prayer to the Emperor and fired. A chattering, incoherent firing that sounded in the hazed city for seemingly an eternity.


Guy and Zaal were thundering along the wounding alleyway at a pace, their Chainswords slick with gore. They had both clasped their helms onto their heads when leaving, and they were now dented and mangled. One Cultist stepped in the way of Guy from a half rotten wooden door and hefted a rifle up, his nimble fingers tightly wrapping around trigger of his weapon. Guy didn’t bother to halt and split him from shoulder to hip, leaking steaming organs onto the glass littered ground.

The man let out one last agony rife scream as he collapsed amongst his fetid organs. The alleys were growing tighter around the pair of Astartes until they could no longer charge side-by-side and their pauldrons were peeled of lineage by the enclosing walls. Another Cultist stepped out before Guy and he swatted him into the wall with his Bolt-Pistol, crushing his forehead into chips of bone and chunks of flesh. The body slumped and Guy heard the crunching of bones as Zaal simply trampled over it, eager to get into the battle.

A large metal gate rose up from the glassed ground before the pair, a narrow slit of which bisected it across the top. A pair of curved eyes looked at Guy from within and he grinned. The Marine fired his Bolt-Pistol mercilessly, rupturing metal and ending with a wet splash. The Neophyte lashed out three times and the metal split apart, but it was only when Guy kicked hard that it fell inwards. The two Astartes were met with turbulent gunfire. It completely enveloped them and sent both Marines tumbling into cover towards either side of the doorway, between concrete slabs and the wall. Zaal had fallen in after Guy and was cursing loudly, staring at a slither of blood on his forearm.

Neither of the Marines could get a bearing as the slabs they took cover behind began to wither into nothingness. Both Marines angled their white crested helms towards each other and nodded. With a cry of battle upon their lips they flipped over with their Chainsword bearing hands bearing purchase on the slab and Bolt-Pistols chattering. The rounds of Guy struck home, those of Zaal did not. That was because Zaal was now held in the clawed talons of a skin-wearing giant, clad in bronze and bone. Two curled hones rose up from its surprisingly human face, although the maw was filled with row upon row of glittering fangs. Pauldrons displayed a world in the mouth of a being, and instantly Guy knew what had ensnared his Brother.

World Eater. Damned of Angron. Scourge of the Imperium. The World Eater’s grip tightened around the trachea of Zaal who was squirming wildly, his weapons discarded and both of his hands wrapped around the giant wrist of his enemy. The eyes of the Chaos Marine swirled with yellow flames as the World Eater lifted a Chain-Axe in its other hand, the metallic teeth of which were hissing loudly. It was turned on its side to face the exposed flank of Zaal. Guy tried to run but found his muscles assailed and collapsed, shrouded in a veil of Cultists who lashed and kicked.

A vein bulged in the forehead of Zaal beneath his helm. Darkness clouded his vision. The World Eater laughed manically and brought its weapon into the side of Zaal, eating at the armour. A spurt of blood flung outwards and Zaal screamed in agony as his ribs and lung collapsed, his flesh dangling limply. The World Eater let his enemy how and tossed him away into the closest wall, turning his attentions towards Guy. The Cultists parted and Guy realised that death incarnate walked towards him, both of his skeletal hands wrapped around his Chain-Axe.

The depraved Marine stood above him, staring down upon his felled foe. He lifted his weapon above his head, the teeth crackling together. He laughed and prepared to bring it down, muscles contorting. And then his head exploded in a shower of gore, disappearing until only the ragged stump of a neck remained. The Marine contorted onto its knees as blood bubbled down its armour and finally gave into the temptations of the Warp, bursting with ethereal purple flame. Guy looked around and found the blood dotted face of Zaal looking at him.

His helm was held loosely from numbing fingers and he nodded to Guy before letting himself fall onto the ground face first, his organs spilling from the rent in his flank, and died. Guy felt anger well within him as he stood and spun his Chainsword around, cutting throats and ripping guts. He saw the windows before him, all of which had shattered inwards. In the street outside he watched as Gregor and Raymond fought back-to-back, Bolters roaring at their hips. It was glorious…

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Discussion Starter · #2 ·
Not one comment in a day? :(

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Discussion Starter · #5 · (Edited)
Cheers lads, appreciate it :) here's the next part, all of these seem to end abruptly but don't worry, it is fine :laugh:

The birds before him cawed as they landed in the dew covered grass, tilting heads at the giant amongst their feeding grounds. Each was a crimson and blue feathered being the size of a small dog, and their angular beaks were dangling with warm meat. Predatory, clearly. One drew near to Raymond and inquisitively bit down upon his leg, drawing a thin crescent of blood from beneath his robes. Raymond let it do so as his body compensated for the pain and his cells sealed the wound. His ancient body could barely help him although, and he felt stifling pain envelope his entire right leg.

The Templar went down onto his haunches and gripped the crested head of the creature and it lashed out around the wrist of Raymond who grinned weakly as it yanked and a string of flesh came free. With a mere flick of is wrist the neck of the avian snapped audibly and blood leaked around his hand. He tossed away the lifeless corpse and it bounced, wings twisting beneath it. Raymond had fought foul amalgamations of bird and man before upon various worlds of the Mastodonian Cluster and those were some of his finest tales, albeit ones which he did not wish to retell.

There was a sudden hubbub of activity and a long blunt shape shot in low over his head, ruffling his robes wildly. Raymond angled his head upwards as the object banked back over him with a foul smell of burning petroleum and other crude oils. Upon the nose of the vessel was a stylized pearl cross surrounded by a golden wreath; the tips of the cross each ended in the point of a blade. Within the centre rested the Chapter badge of the Black Templars. Raymond paced around as it landed, his hood thrown back.

When the forward ramp fell down with a calamitous clang, Raymond knew who would be coming for him instantly. Clad in a tightly fitting black bodysuit that portrayed his muscles largely, the figure wore a white cloak upon his shoulders that flapped in the wind behind him. He was devilishly handsome despite the scar which had sealed his right eye close and forever curled his lip upwards. A mane of black hair was tied into a high reaching topknot and it dangled back down ponderously, rocking back and forth in the wind. At his side he carried a giant blade that shimmered in the light, and Raymond could here its annoying tapping against the metal boots of the man as he drew near.

‘I knew you would come’ Raymond declared, his voice barely a whisper over the dulling engines of the Thunderhawk.

‘And I knew you would be expecting me’ replied the Templar as he got within a matter of feet away, rubbing his mailed gauntlets together so that it made a continuous rustle.

‘Stop that now.’ warned Raymond intentionally, looking into the single regal eye of his fellow.

‘Come mast-’ the Templar said, but he was rudely cut off mid sentence by Raymond.

‘I am your master no more Guy! Not since you became Castellan! Do not call me but that mockery!’ Raymond’s voice was a harsh bellowing, and his former Neophyte stepped back with balled fists.

‘No.’ Guy muttered quietly through gritted teeth ‘You have not been my master in a long time Raymond, not in a long time….’

Two Hundred and Ninety Eight Years Previously, Death-World “Hell’s Teeth”

Raymond and Guy slowly trudged through the knee deep mud, dragging their robes across its slurping surface. Behind them came Imitates Robert and Gregor both followed several metres towards the left and right respectively, and next to them came their Neophytes; the burly Leopold and the shockingly tall Tancred. Gregor had took seven standard Terran months before he had chosen another Neophyte, and Tancred had instantly became good friends with his mentor. Robert and Leopold were both young when compared to the others, and that was shown in their showoff like movements.

‘These damned Leeches are everywhere’ growled Leopold as he skewered a long serpentine like thing upon his combat blade, lifting it up to his face as he did so. The Leech reached for him with dozens of flexible teeth and Leopold split it in two, tossing the sickly halves back into the mud.

‘Be quiet you fool’ warned Gregor as he panned left and right with his Bolter, searching the razor-leafed foliage for any signs of movement.

The Tyranids had been hunted to Hell’s Teeth by the Black Templars and Ultramarines and they had forced the eight or so ships which had escaped Macragge too crash land. The Ultramarines were moving through the equilateral mountain ranges while the Templars were sweeping through the mist-hidden jungles beneath. Raymond felt his feet slip deeper and he nearly tumbled, barely managing to regain his composure. Guy chuckled beneath his helm and it echoed through the Vox loudly, vibrating the earpieces of Raymond.

‘As fun as this is, I would much rather be indulging myself in wines and fruits’ groaned Tancred as he moved aside a leaf with his Bolter and looked into the jungle rise above.

There was a harsh, guttural chuckle at that. Each of the Marines had erupted in a deep mirth and had all but halted, the sucking sludge beneath them growing tighter around their legs. Leopold gave his fellows a worried look, his half-helm not hiding his goggled expressions good enough. And then he was gone. The mud expanded around him in a ball and he collapsed, screaming, his armoured fingers digging deep rivets from the wall of brown-green around him. Robert bellowed something and reached after his fellow, his scripture covered helm bobbing from side to side.

Gregor was already half hopping half running towards him, his robes dirtied and dripping. Before he could get near though the hole had already spun back around and was gone, leaving a panting Robert standing over it with his Bolter clutched tightly. Gregor stepped away slightly and paid his respects, bowing his head and allowing his smile to be lashed from his face. Tancred was snapping branches nearby in a rage, having served with Leopold since he was a child, having both been recruited upon the same world.

‘Out of this place. NOW!’ roared Raymond and the Templars moved towards the nearest embankment, all save Robert. He was know on his knees, his Bolter pushed beneath the putrid smelling surface. Raymond moved over towards him cautiously and gently rested his gauntlet upon the colourful pauldron of his Brother.

‘We must continue Robert. Leopold will be greatly missed, as is every Neophyte by his Initiate. Leopold would have wanted us to seek the Hive-Ship, that is where you can vent your rage. Come Brother, let the Emperor guide us into the belly of the beast’ offered Raymond quietly, trying to respect his fellow.

‘I cannot leave his body Ray, he may still live. It was dry! I saw the walls, it was some kind of….Tunnel….Please, let me find him! He is as true as any of us. If the Tyranids have got him, I swear I will tear down their damned colony with my hands alone!’ his last words was a promise enthralled with rage, and Raymond looked around with a sigh upon his lips.

And then he saw them. Tancred, Guy and Gregor were standing upon the embankment nearby. Each had removed their helms and held them in the crooks of their arms, their faces looking apologetic towards their fellow. The six of them had been a closely knit group since they had first come together and thus the loss of Leopold was a great thing. They looked distant as Raymond dragged Robert up and over towards the embankment, staring at them with half-rolled eyes.

Gregor gripped his other pauldron and pulled him up, laying a had compassionately upon his shoulder. With Tancred and Guy leading the way, the five Marines set off into the jungle at a slow pace, their Chainswords cutting through anything which stood before them. They moved in silence, bar the crunching of weeds, vines and the occasional bug beneath their giant boots. Silence that was, bar the quiet, mournful whimpering of Robert. That terrible, mournful whimpering.


They continued their advance un-helmed up a steep incline dotted with shrubs and thin bodied trees studded with flesh-rendering spines. Evidences of battle, the odd Bolter casing or chip of ceramite dotted the environment and the Marines grew even more tense. Fluttering birds hovered over head, circling the small group at quite a haste. The twin suns that Hell’s Teeth orbited were flaring brightly. Raymond knew that the Imperial fleet above would have been trying to inflate them too deny the Tyranids their prize. It was probably failing, but that did not matter to the Templars.

‘I am growing tired of footslogging, can we not call in a Rhino?’ groaned Tancred as he lazily pulled himself up onto a long rock, his Bolter held loosely.

Tancred was a redhead. His hair was braided into six prongs along the sides and centre of his head, each one glistening with globules of sweat. A fiery beard pooled out across his barrel chest and each individual strand was dipped in black oil so that the tips shorn obsidian. A single scar spread diagonally across his nose from a training accident that had left the cartilage of his nose split in two. It was an ugly mark but one that Tancred bore proudly. Both of his eyes were grey globes that slowly seemed to shift as he stood with his hands behind his back, staring downwards. Raymond liked Tancred, he was a noble and abiding Marine and a relatively friendly one at that.

‘We are Templars. We ride into battle when needed, it is not needed Neophyte. Besides, this ground is far to hazardous to bring in armour’ retorted Gregor as he pulled his foot from a sinkhole that he had stumbled into, his scarred features falling upon Tancred distastefully.

‘Both of you hush’ warned Raymond and went down onto his one knee, placing one gauntlet on the ground ‘The earth…..It is vibrating’

His eyes went wide, but before he could shout a warning Raymond was tossed back down the incline violently in a spout of rock and earthen materials. A sudden flurry of Bolter fire opened up into the pillar of debris, blowing it into tiny flecks against the bright sky. A tremendously awful cry sounded and something long and coiled threw itself from within and barrelled into Tancred. The Neophyte screamed as his chest was torn open, leaking fluids downwards and he slammed into the ground hard, cracking hard.

The scarlet and aureolin creature which was wrapped around him angled its head towards Gregor and dripped liquid flame onto the downed Tancred, who quivered and roared. It was roughly three metres of interlocking chitin and sharp appendages, with a diamond shaped head covered with bulbous eyes. Rows upon rows of dagger like teeth filled its maw, each encrusted with dried blood and other foul liquids. A fat purple tongue twisted in its mouth, a orifice-clad thing that leaked hissing flames across the ground. Tancred was a squirming black and white mass, his face hidden beneath a mask of blood and pain.

Guy was already charging before Tancred could hit the ground. With the butt of his Bolter he struck the creature in the arch of its curving back, and it screamed and rolled away from Tancred. The Templar let his head collapse into the ground, and sighed weakly. Robert charged next, Chainsword spinning in his hands. It tore into the creature and erupted a spray of orange vitae from its flesh. It yapped and lashed out, wrapping its mouth around the forearm of Robert. The crunch of his armour grew louder as more pressure was placed down, and Robert found himself faltering.

Gregor was unleashing a magazine of rounds into its flank, venting its insides. The creature moved spasmodically and Robert screamed as his arm was lacerated and burnt, the creature finally yanked and fell away though, wrapping into a ball as it rolled. Raymond met it head on. With his fists balled around a pair of grenades he struck one of the dripping wounds in the creatures flank. His hands dug deep and retracted a few seconds later, empty. The Tyranid looked at him strangely, and Raymond pivoted around on one leg and threw himself back down the hill.

Behind him the beast shrieked as it burst like a ripe balloon, spraying gore and fire in all directions. Raymond could see the Templars helping Tancred up, who had three crimson rents across wide chest. His armour was slick with blood, thick droplets slipping from the curves and carving brown-red paths across the half-destroyed Aquila upon his torso. Propped up by Gregor and Guy, he spat a ball of yellow phlegm mixed with orange blood until it looked pink, and allowed himself to close his eyes. When Raymond drew nearer, shaking his hands to rid himself of the foul smelling blood on his hands, he could heard Tancred laughing. The Marine was actually laughing!

‘What’s so mirthful Tancred?’ demanded Raymond, his Bolter clacking against his hip with each step, a monotone annoyance to its owner.

‘Not even the Tyranid scum can kill me. Not even a claw! These bastards are in love with me, I swear it!’ came the reply loudly, and Raymond couldn’t help but to crack a grin at his Brother. He was still in a good mood then.

‘We should continue, the Tyranids will swarm this entire area in a matter of hours if that cur still lives.’ offered Gregor, a bloody handprint from Tancred now showing brightly upon his shoulder. Raymond nodded and the Templars set off in silence once again, continuing their ascent.
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