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Discussion Starter · #1 ·
Here is the bio for my Chaos Space Marine Renegade Chapter, the Steel Torches.

Leadership: Raalyk Saris (Chaos Terminator Lord), Gizor Byrnvar (Chaos Techmarine/Sorceror)

Influence: Chaos Undivided, heavy on the Dark Mechanicus and Obliterator Cults.

Roots: Recently fell from the Empire (963.M41)

Battle Doctrine- Crushing force, they use alot of heavy weaponry and mechanized units (tanks, oblits) They are not a fast force, would rather move slowly and crush the enemy in unison. The dark mechanicus also plays heavily in combat.

And last but not least, the full and pretty Chapter History (warning, it is long as hell!!!)

The Steel Torches Chapter History

----------++++BEGIN TRANSMISSION++++----------




“By the Emperor, keep your head down, Brother Raalyk!” shouted Brother Karak, beads of the Emperor’s Litanies is his right hand, and a Boltergun firing on full automatic in his left. Another missile volley of shiruken hissed through the air, peppering the ground all around the entrenched Space Marines, lodging into some of the Marine’s helmets and faces, but not even scathing Raalyk Saaris, who stood tall and unflinching in his Crimson Fist’s blue and red tactical Dreadnought armor.
Raalyk turned to his companion, having lost his helmet in fierce battle long ago, his shaved head was covered in scars and his eyes were filled with the glory of battle. He talked in an uncompromising voice, “We will stand against those who would not stand in our situation. To not do so would be cowardice.”
“Combat is an artform and must be practiced with great finesse. How are you supposed to fight for the glory of the Emperor when you are killed by Eldar scum?” Implored Karak, opening up on an exposed Eldar Ranger and getting the kill.
Raalyk shook his head solemnly. “Combat is not an artform, it is an ascendency. You must ascend to be a true combatant. Besides, the Emperor can replace me when I perish.” With that, with the skill of an assassin, the Terminator captain hurled himself over the edge of the trench, brandishing his power sword, and firing a heavy bolter, shouting a warcry and dashing towards the enemy Eldar, hidden within a rocky crag.
Shiruken and beam rifle shots glanced Raalyk’s armor and hit the ground but did not penetrate the thick Terminator suit. The second Raalyk reached the crag, he was assaulted by two Guardian troopers, lashing out with the bayonets on their long rifles. Raalyk parried both strikes with one wave of his power sword and brought the heavy bolter around, tearing the first Eldar into bloody shreds. The second Eldar tried to shoot Raalyk in his exposed face, but was too shaken from the force of Raalyk’s parry and the shot went too far to the left, taking out a circle on the edge of Raalyk’s ear but nothing else. Raalyk kicked the Eldar to the ground with a heavy boot and made a quick and definite jab with his sword into the despised heart of the alien.
Raalyk looked up just in time to see a stealthy Howling Banshee Eldar warrior launch herself over a tall rock and glide down, posed to decapitate Raalyk. Raalyk immediately fired on the attacker, tearing her in half, and fired on a second Banshee that attacked from the left of the rock and barely raised his sword to block the attack from a third Banshee from the right. The second weapon of the Banshee came down, ready to sever the sword hand of Raalyk, but Raalyk dropped his bolter and grabbed the Eldar’s arm with his red-gauntleted left hand. The Eldar warrior was surprisingly strong and impossibly agile, twisting and turning to Raalyk’s attempts to shake her off to free his hands. Meanwhile, yet another Banshee leapt to the top of another rock and was ready to cleave into the top of Raalyk’s head.
Raalyk could see the dark eyes of the dispised alien staring into his own in a lock of the souls, fighting for existence with equal hatred in both parties. Suddenly Raalyk saw the lithe face of the Eldar smile, and he knew that action was needed. He span around, lifting the Eldar over his head, blocking the attack from the second Banshee with the body of her comerade. The Eldar gave out a shocked cry of disbelief and went limp immediately. The attacking banshee, outraged to the extreme of her accidental slaying of her commerade, launched a flurry of sword attacks at Raalyk, which he blocked most of but some left deep cuts in his armor.
The firey face of the enraged Eldar was suddenly smashed to pieces as the beaded right fist of Chaplain Karak virtually knocked the alien’s head off in a small starburst of holy energy. Raalyk turned and saw that his Terminators and the rest of the entrenched Marines had followed his lead and were attacking the Eldar defenders in the rocky crag. The chaplain raised his bloody fist in the air and yelled, “There is One Emperor!!” The marines around responded, “He Is Our Sword and Sheild!!!” There was victory that day for the Crimson Fists, and Raalyk Saris ascended the ranks for his ascension on the battlefield.
“CHAOS!!!!” Shouted Chaplain Karak, and the command squad at the Steel Torches headquarters on the planet Folkmar all turned to their spiritual leader. The preacher had been meditating for the whole of the day, just kneeling on the barren steel floor thumbing his prayer beads and mumbling unitelligable prayers, and when he exclaimed the Imperium’s most serious and forbidden word, surprise ran through everyone in the control room. “Our next mission shall yield Chaos!!” Karak exclaimed again, looking at the dumbfounded spacemarines, techpriests, and operators with a wild desperation.
Raalyk Saris entered the center, looking much different than he did 278 years ago on Verbatim V against the Eldar. He now covered his face with a ceremonial brass helmet, wore a long, red, cape, and bore the firey orange of the Steel Torches, which he was awarded to be the Chapter Master. A venerated and esteemed warrior, he was feared and respected to The Pyre and other Space Marines that he fought alongside of. “What is the disturbance?” He asked in a low, metallic voice.
“Lord Saris, I have prayed and had communion with the Emperor, and he tells me that the next mission we follow will yield Chaos.” Explained Karak, addressing Raalyk as “lord” but nonetheless talking to him in a manner between two old friends.
“Chaos, you say?” Repeated Raalyk.
“Yes.” Confirmed Karak. “My lord.”
Raalyk remained silent for a moment. The silence was interrupted by the clanging footsteps of another entering the room. All but Karak turned to see Gizor Byrnvar striding over in a highly mechanical way with his completely mechanized legs. Gizor was a Techmarine, trained with the Steel Torches as a Space Marine but then sent to Mars itself to learn the secrets of the Mechanicus. In a slightly warbling but soullessly machinae voice, Gizor announced, “My Lord, we have an incoming transmission from the Astropaths, from High Terra.” Gizor looked to Raalyk and then to Karak. Karak imagined that Gizor treated him with a smirk, but that could have been the hatred Karak felt to the Techmarine for his loyalty to the “Machine God” and his growing influence on his old friend Raalyk. Where most Chapters would use a Librarian to command, Raalyk opted instead to elevate the Techmarine to that level.
Raalyk solemnly strode to the Astropath chambers to review the message alone. A moment passed in silence. Finally he returned, keeping the same ponerous demeanor as before. “We fight on the nearby planet Datera IV. We mobilize now. Time is extremely short. There is a rebellion on our hands.” The control room sprang to life as servitors whizzed and information drones rocketed to their destinations.
Karak approached Raalyk and asked, “What do you make of the taint of Chaos I was made aware of?”
Raalyk said, “We will battle as we always had, unflinching, unyielding, and uncaring of the odds. If Chaos were there, it would be just another tally for the glory of our Chapter.”

The Marines mobilized on the Chapter’s bulk, the Flames of Redemption. The ship left the atmosphere and then entered the Warp, as the time was short to get to the rebellious planet. The horrors of the Warp seemed to permeate in every corner, every rivet in the hull of the ship, and the darkness of the forbidden Gods seemed to exist in every shadow.
In the bridge of the ship, Raalyk sat at the helm, staring into the myrad of colors and non-colors that made up the pure energy of the Warp. It fascinated him how so much power existed virtually everywhere, but the Imperium only had the resources to scrape the surface of its usefulness. The bridge door opened and Karak entered, holding a holy Cruxius in the shape of eagles wings with many beads hanging from its feathers. “Shall we prepare the Litanies of preparation?” He inquired.
Suddenly the ship left the Warp, as the Astropaths and ship controllers found their exit, and the visor screen beheld a planet surrounded by flaming Imperial Navy ships and the explosions on the small planet’s surface. A ground to space las charge shot at the Marine’s ship, but barely missed due to the waves of the Warp exit. “By the Emperor!” Karak exclaimed. “We need to begin the Litanies quickly!”
“No, there is no time. We must act now before the planet is lost,” Exclaimed a robotic voice from the corner of the bridge. Gizor Byrnvar stepped out of the shadows, holding his own mechanical version of a cruxius, which glowed with radiation energy rather than the energy of the holy like Karak’s. Karak shuddered as he thought of the horrors that cruxius could muster, such as the instant mutation of his target and the power to magnetically control others.
“No time for Litanies? That is absurd! That is HERESY!” Exclaimed Karak, pointing at Gizor with his beaded hand.
“It is not heresy. There is an outpost of the Ordo Malleus on that planet, countless tomes of the Emperor’s knowledge might fall into the wrong hands if we do not act now,” Gizor causually said, unworried of the Chaplain’s accusations.
“The Emperor is our sword and our shield. We must not go into battle without his praise,” said a stubborn Karak, looking to Raalyk for his decision.
Raalyk emotionlessly declared, “Brother Byrnvald is right. Too much is at stake. Prepare to land NOW. Besides, I have orders to personally destroy that information before it is compromised.” Karak was devastated.
“Brother Saris, I beg you to reconsider! Think about what you are doing!” Karak pleaded.
Raalyk turned sharply to meet Karak’s face, standing a foot and a half taller than him, imposing down on him with his faceless, bronze helmet. “How dare you question my authority, I am LORD here, you must remember that, brother.” Karak was lambasted. He could not believe what he just heard, as Raalyk’s authority had never before gotten in the way of their friendship.
The Marines, already battle-ready in their drop pods and Thunderbirds, locked and loaded their Bolters and tested their chainswords, and The Pyre descended on Datera IV.

After three days of campaigning the planet, restoring order and slaughtering hundreds of thousands of rebels and traitor guard, Raalyk Saris, Gizor Byrnvar, and the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd companies found themselves at the Ordo Malleus outpost fortress while Reef Karak and the remaining seven companies seiged the capitol city hundreds of kilometers away to bring an end to the rebellion.

“FOR THE EMPEROR!!!!” Shouted Karak, as did the seven hundred Space Marines around him, tearing through the center of the capitol city like an orange conflageration. The last resistance was in the capitol building, where the former Imperial Governor and present rebel leader held the best of his traitor guard and hardened local warriors to hold off against the superior strength of the Space Marines. The Steel Torches, lead by a massive armored column of thirty Predator tanks and some dreadnoughts, and followed by the Space Marines on foot or bike, approached the heavily garrisoned building, taking no casualties from the puny forces surrounding it.
A Vindicator tank busted through the Captiol’s front gate with its massive cannon, and the tanks rolled in, followed by the Marines. Within seconds, the courtyard of the Capitol building was filled with fire and the crossfire of hundreds of soldiers. The Marines entered the labyrinth-like building and spread out, each Marine capable of taking out scores of rebel soldiers. Karak himself ascended the stairs, killing rebels, searching for the rebel leader/governor.
The two Marines flanking Karak became locked in combat with a troop of veteran close combat warriors of the rebellion, but Karak continued upwards, alone, determined to deliver the killing blow to the heretic leader. He was still sore over the decision of Raalyk and Gizor, but he converted his emotions to a healthy, blind hate for the heretic army. At the top of a spirling staircase of stone, Karak came to a great steel door, barred and welded shut. Karak took his bead hand and muttered a prayer of strength and punched through the door, knocking the three inches of steel back into the throne room of the governor.
“You may plead your case, heretic.” Karak said through gritted teeth. A troupe of decorated warriors with long power glaives and long red ropes poised their weapons and approached Karak, but the governor motioned for them to stop. He sat lopsided on his chair where he was obviously watching the destruction of his city through the window, and turned to meet Karak’s imposing stare. He was not as fat or indulgent as some governors, he was rather skinny.
“You speak to me as if I commited some form of crime, Space Marine,” answered the governor.
“Your crime is the theft of one of the Emperor’s worlds and the mass incitement of heresy.”
“Well, for one,” the governor rebuked, “We did not steal anything from the Emperor, I do believe he used his firepower to conquer us and steal our planet. And as for heresy, I blaspheme against the Emperor as any man would not worship another man.”
This infuriated Karak. “The Emperor is GOD! You know nothing! You shout obscenities even as you are laid in your grave!”
“It seems you are the one to know nothing. Take a look in that Ordo Malleus fortress and look at the ancient scripts and then tell me I know nothing. Look at those scripts, and then tell me that the Emperor is a God, and not just a fallen warrior venerated to the point he became a false idol,” said the governor, who waved his arm, which Karak noticed for the first time was mutated and bubbling in a way Karak had witnessed before.
“You are a mutant, a heretic, and a stain on the Emperor’s galaxy. You will not receive redemption,” Karak said, and smashed through the retinue of warriors with ease and shoved his bolter into the governor’s blistered face and fired, streams of steaming gore flying out the back of his ruptured skull, landing on the window and dripping, so that the view of the city was obscured with a red veil.

The Ordo Malleus fortress outpost had been entered, Raalyk deducted, but had not been desecrated or looted, as they had predicted. The small Grey Night squad that had been left there as a bodyguard squad for the officials there must have given out to the thousands upon thousands of attackers and died outside the building. The only rebels who entered, however, must have been cautious and considerate to the relics inside, leading Raalyk and Gizor to deduct that they must have been looking for something.
Raalyk and Gizor entered the building alone, ordering the Marines to guard their exits. They strolled through the eerily abandoned fortress, looking for the main library. They soon found it, and Raalyk pulled out a grenade, and looked at it, and then at the shelves of electronic information.
“Why do you hesitate, my Lord?” Inquired Gizor in his robotic voice.
Raalyk looked at the grenade again and looked at Gizor. “I just wonder…”
“-what is contained in that information?” finished Gizor. “I see the way you are fascinated by the power of the Empyrean, and how you seek power through knowledge and technology. You appointed me, I assume, for my technology,” Gizor said, brandishing his Cruxius Mechanicus, “and I assume you would like to study some of these ancient texts.” The mechanized voice of Gizor was accentuated by his honest face and a wise quality in his mechanical but human speech.
“You know that what is contained in these texts is forbidden to us by Terra,” mentioned Raalyk, “to read them would be dangerous.” Gizor looked to Raalyk with understanding.
“You can gain a lot form this information.” Finished Gizor, pulling out an electric tome entitled, “Hereticus Maximus.” Raalyk took the tome, along with another, “Crusades Maximus.” Then he shook his head, attaching the tomes to his armor, and destroyed the rest. “Those will be all you need.” Said Gizor.
Suddenly, out from the shadows, a dark warrior in huge armor lunged at them, shouting non-coherently. Gizor turned his Cruxius at the figure and fired a blue ray of radiation at the attacker. The air around warped and the attacker stopped in its tracks, its shilloette changing and morphing in impossible ways. Spines, bubbles of flesh, and unearthly screams came from multiple places of the attacker’s now altered body. Gizor stopped, and the mutated attacker scrawled helplessly on the floor, bleeding a mixture of stomach acid and blood. Open sores on the skin spewed blood in all directions, and the makings of a former face could be made out stretched throughout the whole body.
“What was that?” Implored Raalyk, who looked closer at the throbbing mass of flesh and bone. Besides the puss filled boils and bloody flesh, silver plates of polished metal and the decorative styling of an eagle could be distinguished in the flesh puddle. “NO!” Shouted Raalyk, immediately recognizing the body as that of a Grey Night of the Inquisition. “What have you done!”
“He obviously thought you were an intruder, we couldn’t have known.” Explained Gizor. Shaking his head, Raalyk pointed his plasma rifle at the mass and fired until it stopped moving, ending its suffering.

For hundreds of years, Gizor slowly and gradually used his dark whispers and influence to foster heresy within his Chapter Master. Karak became increasingly suspicious, and began to act upon his suspicions in silence. Finally, one day on an Ork-devasted planet near Folkmar, the inevitable happened.

The Warboss was knocked backwards by the force of Raalyk’s leap, the Terminator slamming the butt of his sword into the face of the Ork and bringing the chain-bayotte of his combi-melta down on the crown of the beast’s skull. The Ork’s sparse brains and bounty of blood were sprayed in all directions, soiling the bright flaming orange of Raalyk’s armor. Raalyk left the body of the destroyed Ork and continued attacking the surviving Orks. The day was won by the Steel Torches.
Karak approached Raalyk in victory. “We served the Emperor well today, did we not?” Asked the Chaplain in a gregarious tone.
Raalyk looked to his old friend, loosening his stance slightly, and removed his helmet. His face was scared to the point that emotion should have been unintelligible, but the Chaplain knew he was beaming under all that scar tissue. “Yes, Brother. Im sure the Emperor would think our fighting was commendable.”
Something about the tone of Raalyk’s comment reassured Karak of his suspicion that Raalyk was not as stalwart as he used to be. It won’t matter after today, he thought, for we will see where his allegiances lie. The two turned to the sky, for four dark Imperial ships entered the atmosphere.
“Excellent.” Raalyk remarked, denoting the incoming ships. “Here comes the clean up.”
The ships landed surprisingly close to the Torches’ location, close enough to see the doors open and the thunderhawks approaching. “I guess they need a word with us. I can’t deduce why.” Raalyk said.
The thunderhawks landed fifty yards away from them, and now Raalyk could see that they bore the markings of the Ordo Hereticus. Karak looked extremely uneasy, and Raalyk was suddenly made apprehensive of their approach. A nearby sergent ran over to the commanders. “My lords, several Imperial Fists cruisers are in orbit, they are not responding to our communications.”
A thunderhawk landed extremely close to the commanders, exposed on the top of a grassy hill that was a firey battleground with Orks just hours ago. The Torches’ Marines stood in rank below the hill in the Plains, nursing wounds and collecting gene-seeds from the few who perished.
Out of the Thunderhawk came a heavily ornate Inquisitor. He walked briskly and promptly towards Raalyk Saris. He was a huge man, carried a huge hammer, but was not as imposing as Raalyk was in his skull-decorated Terminator armor. At ten meters away, the Inquisitor announced, “I am Inquisitor Betholm. I am here by suspicion to determine your loyalty to the God Emperor.”
“What is the meaning of this!?” Exclaimed Raalyk, staring down at the Inquisitor daringly.
“We have sources that indicate that you have been commiting Heresy third, second, and possibly first class.” The Inquisitor announced, coming closer. “We need to find out if this is true, and if it is if we could salvage your Chapter.”
Raalyk looked to his Marines on the bottom of the hill. “What sources could you possibly have?” He asked the Inquisitor angerly.
“Well, for one,” the Inquisitor mentioned, smiling, “The most faithful of your chapter, of course, it is his duty, after all.”
Raalyk turned to Karak, who had a look of complete shame. “Betholm! I thought my information was to be confidential!” Karak yelled at the Inquistitor. Raalyk’s scarred face took a look of shock.
“We have no time for such petty matters.” Mentioned the Inquisitor. “Now, Chapter Master, submit to questioning or be besieged by the Imperial Fists and the sword of the Inquisition, the Sisters of Battle. Come, NOW.” Raalyk looked at Karak, and then at the Inquisitor. Gizor Byrnvar watched from another hilltop with his enhanced bionic eye at the scene, apprehensive of what Raalyk was going to do next.
Raalyk looked down at Karak and then defiantly at Betholm. “Did you ever read of the Great Crusades?” The Inquisitor said nothing, but tensed up. “I doubt you read of any complete stories, just a brief glimpse perhaps, but you definitely should. It is the history of our people, you know.” Raalyk said in a calm, collected, and almost sinister voice. Karak was disturbed by the inflection of wisdom and even darkness in Raalyk’s voice.
“Well, it tells, of course, of how the Emperor conquered in the name of humanity, conquered the entire universe. He was a skilled warrior, and a skilled psyker.” He continued. His casual mention of the Emperor’s holy name disturbed the Chaplain and the Inquisitor. “You should also read of the Horus Heresy, and the events leading up to the Emperor’s death.”
“THAT IS ENOUGH, BLASPHEMER! YOU LOW HERETIC SCUM!!” Shouted the Inquisitor, picking up his beacon to summon the might of the Imperial Fists and the Soristas.
“Oh no, you must hear more.” Raalyk continued, ignoring the drop pods that landing all around the hilltops, surrounding their location like ominous firey rain. “Your Emperor is living proof of the paradox of your cult. Or, I would rather say, he is not living proof, as he is naught but carrion.” Karak walked backwards away from Raalyk, whose words were causing his blood to freeze. “I fought under his name, for years after finding out this truth, always trying to reconcile this information by forcing myself into denial. I can’t deny the truth any longer. You worship a false Emperor!” Raalyk finished, placing his helmet on, and turning on Karak.
“You are a traitor!” Shouted Karak defiantly.
“No!” Yelled Raalyk with a laugh. “YOU are the traitor! I HAVE ASCENDED! ASCENDED TO CHAOS!!!”
Imperial Fists came rushing over the hills, down on the Steel Torches. The Marines, already aligned with their deviant Lord by his influence on them and by the mysterious workings and suggestions of Gizor Byrnvar. They opened fire on the approaching Marines, the massive Predator column coming around to crush the first line of the Invaders.
Gizor was laughing, and pulled out one of the many contraptions that decorated his mechanical body. He typed a code on a transmitter, and rushed into battle, radiating three Fists at one time, shooting with his bolter at others.
Out from the ground, waves of Warp energy distorted the hillsides around the invaders. Suddenly, like spiders, the giant mechanical legs of several Defilers sprang out from the ground as they left the Warp tunnels Gizor set up. The Defilers came from several secret factories and Daemonic cults that Gizor set up around the Steel Torche’s home planet of Folkmar.
The invading Fists and Sisters were caught off guard by the Daemonic machines and some of the mechanically upgraded Marines on the field. What should have been a crushing defeat quickly went into a stalemate, and then quickly fell to the advantage of the Steel Torches.
Inquisitor Betholm was locked in deadly close combat with the powerful Raalyk Saris, while Karak fought his own Marines, who he had taught he ways of the Emperor as pupils. Suddenly, Karak saw Gizor Byrnvar in the distance, using his bizarre magnetic power on a Witchhunter tank. Karak sped down the hill to meet the Techmarine in combat.
Taken offguard by his sudden appearance, Gizor did not get a chance to mutate or fling Karak away with magnetism immediately, so he swung around his bolter and fired on the Chaplain’s chest. The bullets bounced and flected off of the Chaplain’s faith-reinforced armor, and Karak slammed his fist against the Cruxius Mechanicus, knocking it away for an instant. “You know, Chaplain, once we win here, we will return to our planet and I will finish constructing a giant portal to the Eye of Terror. Too bad you won’t be alive to see the carnage that will ensue.”
The two then locked in fierce combat, Karak dodging laser blasts from Gizor’s skull drone, bolter blasts, and the bizarre Cruxius, and Gizor avoided the beaded fist of the Chaplain and the swinging of his holy cruxius, humming through the air. “I hope you are enjoying the show!” yelled Gizor.
“What – are- you talking about?” said Karak between blows.
“This little drama that I devised for you. I hope you liked it, as well as the events on Datera IV.” Said Gizor.
The battle fell into the hands of the Torches as all assaults were defended against and renegade marines spread out, hunting down the remaining enemies. Betholm was knocked back several meters, and knew he was defenseless against Raalyk any longer. He teleported back to his Thunderhawk so he could rebuild his attack against The Pyre and alert Terra of the fallen Chapter. “COWARD!” Yelled Raalyk, and he turned to go into combat with others.
“GO TO THE PIT FROM WHENCE YOU CAME!” Shouted Karak, and he swung a hard uppercut with both hands with the holy cruxius, knocking the Techmarine high in the air and sever meters backwards. He ran to finish him off, but stopped when he heard the heavy footsteps of Raalyk Saris bearing down behind him. He turned and blocked a mighty blow from the powersword. Raalyk had abandoned his combi-bolter, and fought with his sword in two hands.
“You have doomed the Chapter, Raalyk!” Yelled Karak between blows.
“I have set it free,” declared Raalyk, coming down on Karak with an arching strike.
“You have fallen to the ruinous plans of Gizor! Gizor puts his faith in spoiled intelligence and the arcane technology of the fallen! Why could you not have remained faithful!” Karak continued, hitting Raalyk in the stomach with the top of his cruxius and coming in for a head shot but was parried. “You were my BROTHER!!!”
Suddenly wrath filled Raalyk and he punched Karak in the face, kicked him in the knee, and swung his sword in a low side blow and cut the Chaplain in half below the navel. The halved Marine fell almost comically to the ground in two clumps, his face in a wide “o” of surprise, his eyes staring into the blank helmet mask of Raalyk. The Chaplain reached up to Raalyk with his beaded hand. The prayer beads have always been entwined in his fingers neatly, but now they were askew and hanging. Raalyk took his beads gingerly from the fallen’s hand and with sudden malice and disdain he ripped apart the thread that held the beads. They fell among the Chaplain’s head like a shower and Raalyk saw that Karak was experiencing mind-wrenching emotional anguish. Raalyk walked away, victorious. Karak saw out of the corner of his eye, Defilers finishing off the last of the invaders, Space Marines collecting skulls as trophies, and finally, Gizor Byrnvar walking triumphantly over the bodies of the slain righteous.

Several hours later, a reserve company of Imperial Fists came, lead by Inquisitor Betholm, searched the battlefield for survivors and gene-seeds. An apothecary came running and said, “My Lord, we have found a survivor. The loyal chaplain Reef Karak. He is delirious, and is literally cut in half, but informed me that the Dark Mechanicus exists on Folkmar and that The Pyre is constructing a portal to the Warp to unleash Chaos. What should we do with him? He is dying fast.”
The Inquisitor shook his head solemnly. “There is only one way to reward this brave warrior for his bravery and commitment to the Emperor. Bring out the Sarcophagus. His soul shall live on in the body of a holy Dreadnought.”

The planet of Folkmar was drastically different from the last year. Machinae monoliths were erected all over the landscape, and factories building war machines were being erected slowly. The Defilers lost in the battle with the Inquisition were already replaced, and the giant portal, now not being built in secret, but in the open with the approval of Raalyk Saris, was almost complete, and already was functional at a fractional level. The Chapter Master had succumbed to the powers of Chaos, and the eightpointed star and symbols of Chaos undivided dominated every building, and the surving population was made slaves to the Chaos Gods.
When the Inquisition came in with the force of a Black Templar’s Crusade and another group of battle hardened Sisters of Battle, the orbital defenses were flattened within hours and the Imperial descencion to the planet was even quicker. The planets capitol, also called Folkmar, was the location of the Portal and was where the Steel Torches were going to make their stand.
The Steel Torches had all year to entrench themselves deeply in their city, so the invaders quickly found themselves in a stalemate with the defenders. The incessant skilled fire of Chaos Marine’s infantry kept the Space Marines from approaching, while the Predators and Defilers offered mobile artillery that kept the enemy lines back. At the center of the Torche’s formation was the Portal; all of the planets building resources were pulled for the single project. When completed, the portal could unleash Legions of Chaos Space Marines. Raalyk was unsure of how Gizor had the information how to build one, but let him have full reign of the project nonetheless.
“We can’t break their lines, my lord, and scouts report that the Portal will be done within a week!” reported a sergeant to Inquisitor Betholm and a High Marshall of the Black Templar’s Crusade.
“We have no choice. This planet is lost to the forces of Chaos. Exterminatus is the only answer.” Declared the High Marshall to the Inquisitor.
“You are right. You have until sundown to exfiltrate your Marines before we bombard the planet to oblivion,” the Inquisitor responded.
“Yes, but how are we to leave, the Chaos Marines will simply chase us down!” Another leader of the High Marshall’s interjected.
The inquisitor bowed his head. “It is my holy duty to the Emperor to see this Exterminatus proceed correctly. I will stay behind, and lead any troops who are willing to die today to cover for your escape.
“I shall die beside you.” The High Marshall declared.
“No, you are the only one with the authority to declare the exterminates when I go. Besides, you must live on to serve our God-Emperor” declined Betholm.
“I WILL COME TOO,” said an extremely low, mechanical voice. “I WILL SERVE THE EMPEROR, DIE, AND THUS RECEIVE REDEMPTION FOR MY FALLEN CHAPTER,” said Dreadnought Karak, who was now a Dreadnought of the Crimson Fists, which he used to belong too.
“We cannot afford to loose a dreadnought. But, we do need heavy cover, and we cannot spare any tanks, we need them to move the troops. Fine, fare thee well, Chaplain Karak. May your communion with the God Emperor be complete.” Said the High Marshall.

The suicidal retinue lead by Betholm abandoned their entrenchments and rushed the city square with the band of twenty Marines who would lay down their lives to the Emperor. Their goal was to distract, not destroy, so they went directly for Raalyk Saris, who they had scouted to be near the Portal.
One by one, the Space Marines Died off, until only Betholm and Karak remained, cutting a swathe through the Steel Torches. They finally saw the Portal, standing a few hundred meters high, circular in shape, and covered in thousands of slaves building it frantically. Raalyk suddenly stepped out from a garrisoned building, with Gizor Byrnvar at his side.
Gizor Byrnvar immediately ran for the Inquisitor, while the lumbering Dreadnought fired lascannon shots at Raalyk. Raalyk dodged the blasts, being thrown forwards. Karak picked him up fiercely, and Raalyk knew it was his former friend being kept alive in that ancient suit. With a strength only a servant of Chaos could muster, Raalyk fought himself free and brandished his sword. The silvery power sword had been transformed into a malignant Dark Blade, containing the essence of Daemons.

He ran his Daemonsword through one leg of the Dreadnought, felling it. Karak yelled unintelligibly through his vox emmiter, while Raalyk jumped on his hull and hacked off his weapons. “Well, brother, it seems you are bested again.”
“Oh no, I have a much better idea.” Said Raalyk in a sinister voice. He looked over to Gizor Byrnvar, who had already converted the Inquisitor into a violently expanding and contracting pile of gore. “Oh yes, we could use a dreadnought.”
The Steel Torches saw the retreat of the Inquisition and knew it could only mean their time on this planet was over. Raalyk consulted Gizor, “Could we use the uncompleted Portal?”
“Yes, but at a much reduced rate. We could transport a force of only a little larger than a single Chapter. But then the force of the warp will destroy it, and our plan would be ruined.” Gizor explained.
“The plan is already ruined. This planet is Exterminatus. We need to use the portal to escape.” Raalyk said.
“That is possible, yes, very possible.”

When the Imperium destroyed the surface of Folkmar, the only inhabitants were the non-combatant population and the mutated mass of Inquisitor Betholm. The Steel Torches escaped to the Warp.

905 Posts
WOW! how long did it take you to write all this. This is twice as long as my article on the HMC and that was nearly 4 pages long!!!

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Blimey, :shock: You said it was quite long, you said that Fluff was your thing in your hello Heresy intro thread and you were not kidding.

There are a few typos in it (Chapters bulk?) and Im not sure about a terminator using a heavy bolter, but no big issues with it from me.( I am not a Fluffmaester mind.)

Good introduction to the Forum Gizor. It took me a while to read but was time well spent. The story flows well and shows the Chapters descent into heresy clearly and vividly. :D

32 Posts
Discussion Starter · #4 ·
Well, I like fluff, but I know little about rules and jack shit about the space ships. I just use bulk as a generic term. Do they use like crusers or something?
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