#mark of calth

[the-sisters-library]

I’ve been slowly trying to go back and read or listen to the handful of Horus Heresy novels I skipped on my way through the series. I’m realizing why I skipped them.

Currently listening to the anthology Mark of Calth, and except for an interesting story about the origins of Erebus’s athames, the rest is just painful drudgery.

[joncronshawauthor]

Jon's Author Diary - August 25, 2023 #amwriting

Hello from sunny Morecambe! Last week, I found myself overwhelmed by too many open projects, a struggle I shared with you all. But then, as if by some cosmic joke, inspiration struck and I started a new project—a space opera with fantasy elements, set in the far future of my existing universe. I outlined a trilogy and even wrote the first draft of a novella. The words flowed and new worlds…

[sonofdorn-vii]

Brother Zealot Hrishikesh, Word Bearer and Son of Lorgar.

Present for the muster at Calth, Hrishi still carries the right pauldron of the first Loyalist he killed that day; his friend Brother Ramius Rhetoricus. The sight of it drives any Ultramarines he encounters henceforth into an almost uncontrollable rage. Praying for hours at a time, Hrishi is still trying ten thousand years later to convince his long-dead friend to denounce the Emperor and join the side of the Primordial Truth, pleading with the Ultramarine to see reason. But his prayers always end the same way; perfect recall of the look of astonished grief on Ramius' face as Hrishi's knife slips under his guard, and buries itself in his primary heart.

[regina-bithyniae]

"No problem... I mean, 'No; problem'"

Far left are my Honour Guard, center left is my Ultramarine test model, far right is my Terminator command squad. Center is the 3D printed "truescale" MKIV marine.

He is supposed to be a slightly bigger version of center-left guy. He's actually a much bigger version, taller than anyone else even without being based. Not usable.

GW has MKIV marines:

But they're smaller, at a space marine scale that is being gradually superceded, and feels too small.

They also have (slightly bigger) MKIIIs, who are rumored to get their own upscaling in a few months:

And the MKVIs of Age of Darkness fame, who are upscaled but not to a ridiculous level like the 3D print.

Pros and cons of each:

MKIII: very nice models, but update rumored soon

MKIV: nice models, favorite armor mark, and fluff-suitable for Ultramarines at the Battle of Calth, but small

MKVI: upscaled and pasasble with MKIV heads, but I've already painted 50 of the fuckers and doing more might kill me

[stealthclaw1]

I was tagged in a tag game by @sasukes-left-tit , so I’ll try my best to play this.

Currently listening to: video game soundtracks that I love, more specifically I find myself frequently listening to tracts from Fallout 76, such “Out There in Appalachia”, and “You Must Rebuild.” I know 76 is far from everyone’s favorite Fallout, but it was my first Fallout game and was the one my partner got me into with the franchise, so it holds a special place in my heart. I also just really enjoy the game’s feel.

Current show watching: None, for the most part? I don’t really watch tv as i can’t really focus on it when I do want to pay attention to it, but can’t focus on other tasks when I just leave it in the background. The one exception to that is I’ll try and watch paranormal shows like “Ghost Adventures” with my partner, or “These Woods are Haunted” when I’m laying in bed and need a distraction. Otherwise, I really like watching documentaries on topics like Ancient Rome, or the natural history of the Earth. I’ve probably subscribed to like 3 different history focused channels on YouTube that just have recordings of documentaries this past month.

Currently reading: the only thing I’ve been really reading has been cookbooks and my Warhammer 40K and Horus Heresy rule books/source books. Pretty much cover to cover multiple times to make sure I’m understanding rules and mechanics, but also reading the fun bits and pieces in them all. I’m embarrassed to admit it’s been a very long time since I’ve sat down to read a novel. I’m thinking I should get some audio books of the Horus Heresy to listen to while I work, but Idk…

Current obsession: besides my usual work of painting models, I’ve been getting really obsessed with wanting to make really good tabletop gaming terrain. Like I’m talking fully modular boards of things like roads, grassy hills, castle walls, medieval streets and cities, and fantasy terrain. I watched the Mark of Calth campaign that one YouTube channel called Zorpazorp was doing on his channel (seemed to have puttered out thanks to youtube algorithm fucking him ofer on that, which is a damn shame…) and seeing all the neat stuff built for that game led me to look into his Middle Earth building videos, and other channels that also make terrain, such as RParchive, and it’s all been living in my head rent free. I would try making some myself, but alas tools and materials cost money so I cannot easily do that without significant financial cost and statin in myself 😔.

I think I’m supposed to tag others, but I don’t want to cause too much of an interruption so I’m just going to tag some close friends for this game (you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to!): @holyknuckled @theineffableamberjae @lamethulhu (I know sasukes-left-tit tagged you earlier but o want to cause problems so I’m tagging you too.)

[askrobouteguilliman40k]

Question, are you still making sure that the Mark of Calth is still running smoothly so you know when Lorgar's betrayal will be fully repaid?

"I am fighting Word Bearers where I find them.... But even after 10,000 years, the scars of Calth remain."

[ask-valerian-40k]

Two Ultramarines, Pelius and Drractus, die in the first hail of shells. They are cut apart by sustained fire. Then Brother Lycidor topples over a rail, headshot. His cobalt-blue figure drops into the assembly area below, arms outstretched. The Ultramarines fire back, covering the structures above them in a cloud of bolter blasts. Word Bearers topple, but more fill their places. Many more. Guilliman roars a challenge to them. He condemns them to death. He condemns their master to a worse fate. He hurls himself at them. The primarch is, of course, their greatest asset, Thiel realises. Not because of his physical superiority, though that is hard to overestimate. It is because he is a primarch. Because he is Roboute Guilliman. Because he is simply one of the greatest warriors in the Imperium. How many beings could measure favourably against him? Honestly? All seventeen of his brothers? Not all seventeen. Nothing like seventeen. Four or five at best. At best. The Word Bearers on the upper structures see him coming.  They are kill squad strength at least, the best part of a full company. At least a proportion of them are vaunted Gal Vorbak elite. But they see him coming, and they know what that means. It doesn't matter what cosmic dementia has corrupted their minds and souls. It doesn't matter what eternal promises the Dark Gods are whispering in their ears. It doesn't matter what inflated courage the warp has poured into their veins along with madness. Guilliman of Ultramar is coming right at them. To kill them. To kill them all. Even though they stand a chance of hurting him, they waste it. They baulk. For a second, their twisted hearts know fear. Real fear. And then he has them

Know No Fear, by Dan Abnett, page 379, probably one of the most badass pages of the Horus Heresy series currently in print

[skunts-own-truth]

The Mark of Calth was by far one of my favorite HH anthologies, so I am totally here for another anthology about a single conflict. I’m ready to dive into that John French short in there, y’all.

[ladymirdan]

Which books would you recommend for someone who had lots of fun with Abnett's Calth-novel and wants to read about 40k Ultramarines?

I'm into novels with lots of character-development, dialogue and personal drama. I don't need that much battle-action, since, let's be honest, if you've read a hundred and thirtysix astartes battle-sequences, the onehundred and thirtyseventh won't add much new insight. 😁

To be completely honest, Ultramarines don't do that 😂

The closest thing to character development would be Cato Sicarius (Or maybe Scipio Vorolanius would qualify, pretty much all books witch Sicarius has Scipio as the main character) and that is throughout many many books that are 95% fighting.

I personally loooove a good fighting scene if its well written and have relevance to the plot.

I would say that the closest thing to what you asked for would be “Assault on Black Reach,” but it is a bit off the mark for your criteria since its a shit ton of fighting.

But I like it for introducing me to Ultramarine politics and gossip 😂

[warsofasoiaf]

Do you think the Horus Heresy Books kind of undermined a lot of characters? I'm thinking mainly the Emperor who went from a benevolent if flawed champion of mankind undone by fate, love and hubris to a raging asshole who did a lot to make the Heresy possible and nothing much to stop it and Horus the military genius who completely botches multiple campaigns and needs to be saved by his fellow traitors and blind luck. Corvus who singled out those sons he disliked to go on suicide missions etc.

I disagree. For one, the Emperor had been busy holding Magnus’s Folly closed, The Master of Mankind makes that clear that if he doesn’t, a whole bunch of demons show up in the palace itself, so he is doing what he can for the Heresy. Same with Horus, who conducts most of the good parts of his campaign off-camera. The Dropsite Massacre was a well-executed piece of mildec, he was able to successfully isolate Calth, but his botches do show the wages of Chaos, as I’ve mentioned before. I think it’s good to see Horus as a mostly capable but ultimately fragile and flawed man, full of great mistakes just as he was full of successes. 

Similarly, Corax’s less kind actions are marks of flaws that ultimately come around to bite him in a way I find to be an excellent character moment. His dislike of the Terran-born Marines comes back in a great way when in the attempt to rebuild the Raven Guard, the Alpha Legion infect it to create the Mutants, and now Corax has to evaluate his earlier actions with that in mind. Can’t fault that.

Ultimately, I think that’s alright. 40K is always evil vs. evil and so having these people be tainted champions fits the setting. But it’s also subject to interpretation and different authors. I’m with you in that sometimes, Big E or Horus or whoever can do something that’s both massively stupid and completely pointless, and there’s no defending it at times.

Thanks for the question, Flag.

SomethingLikeALawyer, Hand of the King

[askmalal]

Sergeant Lagras: *switching on the vox recorder*...as usual, so no worries. Ahh, here we go! The individual, for the record, is an Astartus, age indeterminate. Identified as a member of the so-called “Warp Ghosts” based upon his armor markings. He was retrieved from a debris field roughly forty eight hours prior to this recording. Is that about right, Didius?

Apothecary Pertinax: Yes. Spot on.

Lagras: Tell me more about the nature of these remains, Brother.

Pertinax: As I was saying, this is very typical Astartes stuff. But there are some essential differences.

Lagras: No mutations?

Pertinax: Not the sort you’d expect, no. I have no particularly cogent theory as to why. If this individual spent as much time in The Warp as the standard traitor legionary, the man would have -some- sort of significant mutation caused by exposure. Perhaps not obvious. But it would be there. Coloration of blood, change in the hair follicles, mutation of the palette, something. Not always horns and extra limbs, but something.

Lagras: You said “not as you’d expect,” meaning there are mutations?

Pertinax: Yes. But these appear to have been engineered.

Lagras: Oh?

Pertinax: Larger catalepsean node. Not sure what the purpose could be. A few theories, none of them anything I’d be willing to stake my reputation on.

Lagras: Fair enough.

Pertinax: Second, we must note that the subject’s body was retrieved from the void. He had been drifting for, roughly estimating, a week.

Lagras: Not a good way to go.

Pertinax: The average human can, if drawing in a breath prior to exposure, survive up to thirty seconds before freezing or asphyxiating; the former is more likely than the latter. The average Astartus will last about an hour, given his enhancements. Primarch Guilliman survived for about twelve hours at Calth.

Lagras: And this fellow?

Pertinax: Death provably occurred after exposure for as many as four hours, if the suit’s indicators and the condition of the body can be trusted. Not nearly the record as far as Primarchs go, but for our kind, that is simply amazing.

Lagras: Interesting!

Pertinax: Of course, then we have this piece of gene seed tech, which I have never seen before.

Lagras: Brother-Apothecary Pertinax is showing me a gene organ that is unlike any we have on file. Roughly ovoid shape, would you say that is accurate, Didius?

Pertinax: Yes. That is about right. This was attached to the upper cerebral cortex. I suspect it played a role similar to the occulobe, as I was unable to identify this man’s own occulobe. Which leads me to speculate that this must have served as a replacement. It is exceedingly rare, even in examples of known gene-organ faults, to leave even a single implant out of the equation. For example, individuals without a functioning Lyman’s Ear will still have something approaching that implant, withered and inactive though it may be.

Lagras: How common is substitution?

Pertinax: Without meaning to seem overly dramatic, it is extraordinarily rare. Certainly not at the induction stage. Others might have been altered post-induction: certainly this happens with the interred, if nothing else, and the removal of an organ is no unheard of in some successor chapters. The Rainbow Warriors, for example, -do- remove a portion of the omphagea after a Marine’s first decade of service, as this is said to prevent known problems with the implant from causing harm. But even that is rare.

Lagras: So, what do you speculate that this organ was used for, brother?

Pertinax: I have a theory. But... it is entirely speculative.

Lagras: Go ahead.

Pertinax: This organ is vaguely, and I do mean vaguely, similar to the growth found in many Navigators.

Lagras: You are suggesting this man had been modified as a sort of “Navigator?”

Pertinax: Possibly. Yes. No... I don’t... I don’t know. The occular tissue was damaged, apparently by exposure, and that might tell me more if I had something intact. The brain could be altered, but that is beyond our available technology at the moment to determine without obvious hallmarks, if there were any.

Lagras: Fascinating. Thank you, brother!

Pertinax: Of course.

[templarhalo]

The Master of Mankind’s Return Chapter 5 ( In the Grim darkness of the far future, there is only disappointment and hope)

Only three chapters left until this fanfic is officially complete  Thank you again for everyone who’s read it.   I plan  to have this chapter and the previous ones posted on Archive of our Own this week.

Vldor was falling.   He was tumbling into an an abyss,  his limbs flailing, his mouth trying to  scream, but producing no sound.

He slammed into the floor of a the Imperial Palace   Valdor groaned and pulled himself to his feet.   Then he looked around and almost screamed.

The palace was unrecognizable.  Gold was slathered over the walls,. Statues that had once been painted were dull and lifeless,   The magnificent tapestries and friezes that had been  removed in the process of fortifying the palace had not been restored to their  rightful place.

Thick layers of dust and soot had settled over everything.  Valdor had to refrain from screaming again when released the soot was actually cremated human  remains

Than he realized something.

The palace was silent.    Something it never should have been.  The palace had always been filled with the giggles of Ligo scampering through the halls, the clack-clack of Malcador’s Staff,  The chortle his Custodes made as the exchanged jokes with Sisters of Silence in thought-mark as they went about their duties.  The ka-boom! of one his King’s experiments  going awry.  

But there was no sound, not even the background of the hustle and bustle of Terra was heard.

Valdor started running in the direction of the Sanctum Imperialis.  He had landed  near the Tower of Hegemon.  In about 15 minutes at his maximum speed he would reach the Eternity Gate

When he reached Eternity Gate, he couldn't hold back his scream back anymore.

An army of the dead stood between him and Eternity Gate.  There were Astartes and Custodes in blackened armor, wreathed in fire, with no visible, flesh except for bones.   

There were mortal soldiers, too. Voidsmen of the defunct  Solar Auxilia, warrior maidens in a pattern of power armor he did did not recognize , Lucifer Blacks and the gung-ho Catachans.  Valdor saw flame-wreathed  soldiers in gas masks and trenchcoats clutching Lucius Pattern Lasguns and shotguns.  He saw  soldiers in green and olive fatigues led by a skeleton clutching a banner that had the name Cadia inscribed on  it's tattered form.

There were Thunder Warriors too.  The glorious, honored dead of the Terran Unification Wars stood alongside those who had been betrayed at Isstvan III and V and who died at the Siege of Terra and the decades after

Valdor felt a chill deep in his bones.  There had to be at least 300,000 Space Marines alone standing before him, not to mention  the Custodes and Thunder Warriors and the host of mortal soldiers.

For a second Valdor stood before an army of Martyrs.

Then they saluted, and parted before him

Valdor hesitated, then he gritted his teeth and took a step forward

Eternity Gate opened  with a deep  rumble.

Valdor  was greeted by a withered figure  sitting in a cell.  It took Valdor a moment to  recognize him as His King

The Emperor rose from the floor.  Valdor could see His ribs through the chiton He wore.   His hair was white and greasy, dark circles were under his eyes.  His hands were gnarled arthritic things. No aura of raw power cloaked him, this was His King as he truly looked, the strain keeping his body and mind intact after the wounds Horus dealt and the agony of his confinement to  Golden Throne plain to  see .

The Emperor wiped blood from his nose, than he spat black bile and coughed up phlegm,   His body made the rattle of death,  for it was little more than a corpse, its only purpose to  contain His essence and provide a form for His subjects and the woman he loved more than life itself to  see.  

“The wheels of fate are spinning  old friend, I have done all I can to  stack the deck in your favor.”

The Emperor  reached through the bars and lay a spasm wracked hand on Stan's chestplate.

“I look forward to seeing you with my own eyes old friend.”

Constantin awoke with a gasp.  He was  not expecting to be able to actually see with his physical eyes.  Isha must have healed him while he’d experienced this…. Experience.  Valdor would not call it a dream.  Dreams hurt and left a dry, bitter taste on one’s mouth, like a mix of taking a bolter round to the chest and trying to keep down bitter dregs of a poor vintage of wine.

“Your mind is loud for a mon-keigh.”  Isha said.

“Really?” Valdor asked.  The goddess nodded.   “You have my thanks for healing me.  Are we close to finding an exit to realspace?” The custodes asked.  He rose with more effort than he’d care to admit.  His wounds had been healed, but his strength was flagging.  He wanted nothing more than to rest, but duty forced him to remain standing and press onwards.

“There is a webway portal ahead   Twenty five of what you call miles ahead.” Isha answered.

The Aeldari goddess smelled of pine and roses, freshly baked bread and fertile soil.   The goddess presence, coupled with the  whispers of the imperfection of the daemons and those he slew with the Apollonian Spear hammered at him.  

He looked at Aella for a second.  

“You look like shit Captain-General.”  The young custodes  said with a grin.

Leman let out a bark of laughter.

“I feel like shit.” Valdor said.

“So Lord Commander Guilliman has petitioned for the aid of the knights of Sigismund?” High Marshal Helbrecht asked.

“My Primarch... has requested that the Black Templars muster as many warriors as you can spare to aid him for his crusade.  He would be honored if the Eternal Crusader could take part.” Lieutenant Chiron Patroclus of the Ultramarines 10th Company replied.

Sitting in a throne of hand carved marble mined from a quarry on holy Terra  during that heady period between the end of the Terran Unification Wars and the first true battles of the Great Crusade Helbrecht was every inch a Black Templar.

His Power Armor was a mix of Mark III and IV  plate  painted in a dull bronze that did little to hide the scars and dents it had accumulated during its service not just to Helbrecht but to those who had worn it before him. A line of knights had worn this suit, a line stretching back all the way to the Templar Brethren of the First Company of the original Imperial Fists Legion.  The suit had bore the scars of the battle fought at Beta-Gamon and the Siege of Terra itself.  

Over this power armor was a black tabard and cloak lined in arterial scarlet. Further adorning the armor were oaths of moment, purity seals, crusader tokens and scrolls detailing Helbrecht's glorious deeds.

In the Master of the Black Templar’s hands was the Sword of the High Marshal’s.  Even sheathed and deactivated  the Power Sword radiated an aura of majesty,  for the blade had been forged using  fragments of Rogal Dorn's own Chainsword Storm's Teeth.  The holy sword  had been quenched in traitor and xenos blood in the hands of the founder and First High Marshal of the Black Templar and  the First Emperor’s Champion, Sigismund

In contrast, Lieutenant Chiron wore Mark X Power Armor, which bore few battle scars. Helbrecht saw no battle honors on his armor aside from the Vigilus Campaign.

Not only does the Primarch send a lackey, he doesn't even send me one who's at least earned to right to march onto the field of battle in  holy Terminator Armor. Helbrecht thought.

Helbrecht’s pride was not stung, but the High Marshal was by the  necessity of his sacred office and duties a political thinker.  

Why had Lord Commander Gulliman sent a Lieutenant with barely two centuries of battle experience?  If the matter was so damn important why not order the High Marshal with his divine and political authority or petition him in person? Why not send Marneus Calgar or Reclusiarch Cassius? Or a member of his Victrix Guard or a Company Captain?  Or was this crusade so important that this young officer was all the thirteenth son of the God Emperor could spare in his preparations?

At least he has not sent one of his  Librarians. Helbrecht thought.

“Tell me Lieutenant, given the importance of this endeavor why had Lord Commander Gulliman not come in person? I mean no offense but why send  a young brother such as yourself? “

“No one else could be spared my Lord.  My Primarch is personally overseeing the gathering of forces for his new crusade.  Lord Calgar has been recalled from Vigilus to resume his role as Lord Defender of Macragge.  Reclusiarch Cassius fights along the 3rd Company and half the 6th against the Tyranids of Hive Fleet Kronos. The remainder of the chapter save for 25 veterans of the first and half of my own company, muster at Calth.

Translation :Guilliman was micromanaging again, but wanted his officers close, and anyone else that could have been sent  was unavailable due to other duties.

“What are Gulliman’s goals for this new crusade of his?” Helbrecht asked.

“Further securing the borders between the western and eastern half of the Imperium as well as the destruction of key traitor assets including  the Despoiler himself. My lord.  Many chapters, including your primogenitors and the Iron Hands have contributed their entire strength to  this endeavor.”

Helbrecht took a second to reply.

“I will confer with my knights, tell your primarch I can guarantee at least two hundred warriors for his crusade. I cannot promise that the Eternal Crusader herself will join for I have received petitions from other commanders.”

The Lieutenant nodded and than left the hall.

“My liege,  you should send only a handful of knights, there are other war zones, we would be more suited to.” Marshal Brienne of the Tarth Crusade said.

“I concur, High Marshal, the filthy Tyranids  and Tau have been ravaging the southern half of the Imperium, send enough brothers and sisters to satisfy the Lord Commander and be done with it.  He did not even petition you in person.” Marshal Tormund, a Primaris Marine clad in battered Gravis Armor said gruffly

“We have received reports of Huron Blackheart conducting  raids in the galactic West.  We should muster as many warriors and ships as we can.  Surely she  would be put to better use ending the Tyrant of Badab. while Lord Commander Guilliman has his own Gloriana.”   Marshal Michel spoke.

Helbrecht  suppressed a sigh.   The Black Templars had been bloodied this past century.    Many of their Chapter Keeps had been destroyed.  Many brothers and sisters had given their lives for the God-Emperor.   With the Imperium split in half that meant a great many Knights were missing, presumed fallen.   Helbrecht doubted there were a little less than two thousand Black Templars still crusading, and with every petition for aid and every campaign that dragged on longer than projected spread them thinner and sapped their strength.   The crusade to protect key Shrine worlds had been a costly campaign, even with the new Primaris Marines to bolster their ranks.   The Indomitus Crusade had whittled them down even more.   Aiding Lord Commissar Yarrick in slaying Ghazkull Urk Thraka had left more than a thousand of them dead   While the chapter had continued the Eternal Crusade far below Codex Approved levels, and when tthe chapter had been at the brink of extinction, something had to  give.  The Black Templars could not be everywhere at once.

“This is a perfect opportunity to avenge Marshal Almarich and the honored fallen  who died fighting the Despoiler!” Venerable Tankred boomed. The  Dreadnought  was one of 14 ancients and the sole Mark V lingering in the corner of Sigismund’s Hall. The others were  mix of Contemptor, Mark IV and Leviathan patterns; all of them more than five thousand years old or more.

Helbrecht listened to the arguing of his Marshals and Castellans

“Enough!  Tonight, I will pray to the primarch and the God Emperor for guidance before the bones of the first High Marshal!  Tomorrow I will decide if I will take the Eternal Crusader to  join Lord Guilliman.”

That night Helbrecht knelt before the amber encased bones of the first Black Templar and prayed for guidance.

He shut his eyes,  for a second  he was kneeling, the next he on the bridge of the Eternal Crusader, the Vengeful Spirit filling up the viewports.   He saw the Phalanx beside the Vengeful Spirit. Her guns trained on the traitor flagship

“Fire now High Marshal!” A voice ordered over the vox.

Helbrecht opened his eyes, his chapped lips uttering a gasp.  He was back in the Tomb of Sigismund.  

When he returned to his quarters he voxed Reclusiarch Grimaldus that he had made his decision. The Eternal Crusader would go to Gulliman’s crusade. The only question now would be which Marshals would accompany him and which ones would not.

“Finally an exit back into real space.” Leman said.    “Do we know where it leads?” Rogal asked Isha inspected the portal.

“ It leads to a planet called Drecksloch.”  Isha said   She  pointed to  the inscription and  smiled,  as if she knew a joke that others  would not get.  

The portal opened  with a deep bass rumble

The five of them entered the shimmering portal,  Constantin  a sense of vertigo for a a few minutes  no more than three by his estimate.   Than he emerged in the middle of a fucking war zone.  In the distance he could make out Imperial Fists and Space Wolves  engaging warriors of the Black Legion.   

The sky was  filled with smoke  and dueling aircraft.

“Brother?  Is that you?”  a familiar, if somewhat unliked voice said.

Standing before them, clad in  deep blue and gold Power Armor, a Laurel wreath on his head and The Emperor of Mankind’s sword in his hand was Roboute Guilliman.

   .

[space-outlaw-jin]

THE STORY When the Word Bearers launched their surprise assault on Calth, it marked the beginning of their righteous campaign of vengeance against the hated Ultramarines Legion. But for one young acolyte of Kor Phaeron, it is not the sons of Guilliman that he seeks to bring low - through infernal pacts and daemonic power he strives to carve out a destiny for himself in the midst of the greatest war that the galaxy has ever seen. The name of Marduk shall be spoken with awe for millennia still to come...

[coolyo294]

Cerastus Knight-Castigator “Nepenthes” 

While infantry-hunting is a job typically looked down on by the aristocratic scions of Knight Houses, the Cerastus Knight-Castigator is an engine designed for that very purpose. Most would turn their nose up at the idea of using such a glorious weapon as a knight to scour mud-spattered infantry from their holes, but the Scions that pilot Castigators relish the job. Tanks, Titans, and Knight-analogues each pose their own threat, but a canny infantryman with a meltagun can be just as deadly to an unprepared Knight as any of those formidable foes, if given the chance. Therefore, it’s the Castigator’s job to ensure they never get that chance, wiping formations of infantry from the field with bursts of fire from their deadly Castigator-pattern Bolt Cannons and swipes from their massive Tempest Warblades. When no small foes can be found, the Warblade also enables the Castigator to hunt other Knights or armored targets. 

The Engine pictured here is the Nepenthes, helmed by Knight-Scion Ulas Karn of House Vornheer. House Vornheer was sworn by oaths to the Primarch of the Ultramarines Roboute Guilliman, thus they were present in their entirety at the muster of Calth and the subsequent betrayal by the perfidious Word Bearers. Most of the Household’s Engines were destroyed in the opening moments of the Traitor’s surprise attack, their muster fields at Platia City blasted into an atomized wasteland by ships in high orbit. Those that survived had only just embarked in a conveyor that was to take them to a transport barque waiting in orbit, though damage forced it to crash land in the seas off Ithraca. Led by the House’s commander, Duke Bhaevenwulf, Vornheer’s surviving Engines carved their way from the hold of their sunken transport and set off on an aquatic trek to link up with Imperial forces in Ithraca City. Little evidence remains to chronicle House Vornheer’s final moments when they emerged in the city, but the remains of their engines were later recovered from the ruins, all having fallen in glory against the hellish foes the Word Bearers unleashed there. 

Knight-Scion Karn was a decorated veteran of House Vornheer. His Engine is marked by two primary insignias. The first is the white band upon the red field that makes up Karn’s personal heraldry, symbolizing a great wound suffered in the line of duty, while the blue swords within the band indicate that the wound was suffered in service to the Lifewatch. The Lifewatch was an elite formation that fought as Duke Bhaevenwulf’s personal guard and its sigil makes up the other primary marking upon Nepenthes’s hull. The blue and white bear borne on the banner is Karn’s personal crest, an honorific awarded personally by his Duke. 

[possiblyhereticalultramarine]

Dark Side of Ultramar

Ultramar is a shining beacon of hope and prosperity on the Eastern Fringe of a dark, uncaring Galaxy. Free of the corruption and decay that chokes the rest of Imperial society, it is an example of a glorious human civilization that persisted even after the horror of the great Heresy. However, as the resplendent star empire faces a period of turmoil as it recovers from repeated invasions by the forces of chaos, Ensign Cassia of the Vigil Opertii faces the darkness that lies at the dregs of every human society.

+++M42.75+++ +++Sub-sector Ultramar+++ +++Veridian System+++ +++Ischara, Kastril City, Industrial Disctrict A-7+++

"Ultramar is civilized"

She believed it. Cassia believed every word of her superior officer.

From space Ischara was a dull grey sphere ringed by a belt of glittering lights from the vast megacities that were built around the planet's equatorial belt. Vast starports were visible as bright spots among the lights, disgorging a massive but orderly procession of cargo lifters, passenger transports, mass conveyers and the occasional military shuttle like a horde of fireflies into the gaping maws of the immense orbital stations above the planets. Frequent but short-lived flares often lit up the skies of Ischara, void vessels lighting up their sub-light engines to accelerate away from the planet's gravitational pull.

This was not a beautiful world, but then it was not designed to be one. Instead its appeal lay in its utilitarianism; a concept that was borderline worshipped across Guilliman's realm. Its cities were organized into a flat, grid formation that was common among the worlds of Ultramar. Tall, angular blocks of glass, metal and stone rose up well above the clouds and gleamed in the vibrant, yellow mid-day light of the planet's sun, its upper flanks flocked by air cars belonging to the upper-class of planetary society. By contrast the bases of the structure were ringed by transport tubes carrying massive mag-lev trains that carried much of the citizenry from their Hab complexes to their places of work and visit.

Cassia was not ascending to the gleaming skyscrapers to marvel at the view of Ischara’s sunset. Nor was she traversing the city terrain to gape at its impressive infrastructure. Right now, she was in the bowels of the factory district on the outskirts of the mega-sprawl, ready to fulfill her duty to Ultramar and Guilliman.

She looked at the man who had said those words and nodded. She would have smiled but this wasn’t the place. “Is that an Ischaran custom, sir?” she asked.

“It is an affirmation of our purpose; to make that statement a reality” said Sergeant Crassus, motioning her into a wide storage space with a high ceiling along with the rest of the team. “Although you are an off-world recruit, you should learn our traditions quickly”. Looking back with an equally stony expression, he signalled for them to take their designated positions.

“Yes sir” she replied as she came up to his flank and pulled her military-grade laspistol out of its holster and hid it behind the folds of the hooded cowl she had worn over her regular blue and beige carapace armor for the mission.

“Begin operation. Mark 0:12:35” stated the sergeant in a cold, dispassionate voice as disgruntled workers began to spill into the cavernous warehouse, the expressions on their faces ranging from irritation to outright hostility.

As they approached the ten undercover officers of the Vigil Opertii, a tall, burly figure came forth from the mob. A shaven headed man who barely fit into his orange factory overall on account of his muscle mass and height came up to meet Crassus, a look of confusion on his face.

“Are you the plant manager’s representative?” he asked, the words causing a curiously hopeful murmur to arise from the crow behind him.

“We are here to resolve the…inefficiency” Crassus said, pulling down his hood and smiling at the worker. She knew that smile. It was just one of the false facial expressions all of the Opertii were trained to show in order to put a subject at ease. Though the sergeant’s patrician features, consisting of a finely cut jawline, close-cropped but vibrant blond hair and rich hazel eyes, did make the process much easier in her opinion.

“Then you’re here to stop them from working us to death” the man snarled, his face wrenching into a sneer. Cassia stiffened and tightened her grip on the laspistol as she heard the crowd start to grumble.

“The effect of the recent extensions in work hours has been accounted for by managerial staff and approved by the district council” Crassus replied, his voice agreeable but slowly gaining a sense of authority. “An appropriate increase in your monthly credit payments has been made to compensate-”

“Credits are not the problem!” snapped the man “Ever since the announcement from the Lord Governor, the work quotas are being increased weekly without an end in sight. What the feth is the point of credits if we’re going to be worked to death in the first place? If much of it is going to be worthless in a few years anyway?!”

Cassia frowned. She had heard similar complaints before on Calth too, though not to this extent. The restructuring of Ultramar back into the 500 Worlds as dictated by their reborn Primarch was stretching the resources of the star empire to their limit and decision to increase the supply of credits to account for this had led to moderate inflation across the entire sub-sector, wiping out the savings of much of the lower classes such as manufactorum workers and overall reducing the quality of life.

In addition, the rebuilding of many planets that had suffered the wages of war had sparked a minor sector-wide economic boom at first but as time dragged on, the increased need for more raw materials, machinery and commodities to speed up the reunification of Greater Ultramar had put a major strain on the general population as they witnessed their work hours increase while their payments slowly degraded in value.

The cause was, as she understood, the series of tumultuous events that had befallen Ultramar several decades before her birth. A series of sector-wide invasions by the Archenemy had pushed the star empire to the brink of defeat and ruin.

Then he returned. News of the miraculous resurrection of Roboute Guilliman had apparently spread like wildfire across his realm. Its amplifying effect on the fighting spirit of its defenders only eclipsed by the crushing military victories the Primarch achieved over the hordes of chaos, eventually driving them from Ultramar entirely.

Retired members of the Ultramar Auxilia spoke with unabashed awe of how the Ultramarines annihilated the Archenemy invading Macragge in just under a month after the return of their Primarch. Wizened old captains of the Defense Fleet told tales of the myriad descendants of the Ultramarines, along with Chapters they had never even heard of before, sailing across the void to the aid of Ultramar with massive fleets whose guns turned entire armadas of the Archenemy to desiccated husks.  Ecclesiarchs preached of how the majestic light of the Saint Celestine ultimately caused the tendrils of Chaos reaching into their empire to wither and die, a permanent reminder that the Emperor protects.

Cassia was not born in such interesting times however. She was born a full half-century after the Lord of Macragge left for Terra. A time of grim rebuilding and fortification for the darkness that was sure to return. A time where the citizens of Ultramar needed to look inward for threats. A time where the Vigil Operatii were most needed.

Some said that the Opertii were no better than the paranoid wolves of the Inquisition. That the very idea of a secret police was antithetical to the idea of peace and civilization that Ultramar championed. Nothing could have been further from the truth in her mind. Where humanity existed, discord, dissatisfaction and inefficiency always sprung up like malignant tumors in a healthy body.

However, the Inquisition would simply use whatever means they could to crush dissent, heedless of the damage it caused to the fabric of society or to overall efficiency. By contrast, the Vigil Opertii existed to smooth out the problems that arose in civil society, removing malcontents and returning misguided citizens to their proper role in the grand scheme of Ultramar. All done while maintaining the satisfaction and productivity of the populace. It were these thoughts that prompted Cassia to step forward and address this agitator.

“We all have a duty to the vision of Lord Guilliman” she said confidently striding up to the crowd and lowering her cowl. Cassia wasn’t exceptionally beautiful, though her short, raven black hair and slightly demure face with low cheekbones often attracted a certain amount of looks from men back at the academy. She put on a fake smile but was irritated by the mans lack of perspective. “You may be suffering now, but think of how many have suffered to save you from a fate beyond imagining. Think about your commitment to Greater Ultramar and how-”

“Don’t lecture me about duty you pompous bitch!” roared the man, stabbing an accusatory finger at her while motioning to the crowd. “Not a single man in this crowd ever neglected his duty. All of us gave decades of our lives to this single fething manufactorum! Some of are even ex-Auxilia. We served Ultramar and will continue to serve it till our dying breath. All we ever asked is that we are allowed to support our loved ones!”. The crowd was beginning to get agitated now, many shouting in support of the man.

Cassia blinked and took a step back, fingers tightening around her weapon and her mouth slightly agape. No one had ever talked to her that way. She had trained for hostile encounters at the academy but to have this happen before her eyes…was different. “You…you insolent-” she began, her face losing all measure of control and becoming a mask of wounded pride.

“So you refuse to return to the production lines then?” interjected Crassus with a clinical tone. She turned to face him, expecting to see a disapproving look on his face. By contrast he gave her a satisfied nod, as if to congratulate her.

“No, we shall not” the worker said defiantly, and a chorus of angry affirmations rose from the crowd. “We will not slave away for an uncaring governor who has forgotten the principles on which Ultramar was founded. What is the point of sacrificing ourselves if our loved ones will continue to suffer? What is the point of struggling if we will never see a better future for our children?! What-”

The ringleader never had a chance to finish his screen before the entirety of his head was turned into a fleshy, molten slag that underwent a temporary heat expansion before bursting apart and showering the crowd behind him in a spray of blood and brain matter.

Cassia’s eyes widened and a look of panic crossed her face as she saw the recently fired laspistol held by her sergeant. She opened her mouth to speak when a flurry of las shots sounded echoed through the cavernous room. Dozens of workers collapsed into steaming heaps and the rest scattered, panicked as the Vigil Operatii began to systematically gun them down.

She felt numb, her senses momentarily deserting her as she lurched backwards barely maintaining her balance. She weakly pulled out her own pistol but kept it lowered, unsure of what to do. Her brain refused to accept what her eyes told her. Refused to accept that the Operatii were carrying out a wholesale slaughter of unarmed civilians. “W-what…” she began, her tone wavering as she simply stared at the ensuing horror.

One of the civilians, an older man that was surprisingly quick for his age and probably former Ultramar Auxilia, quickly identified her as the weak link in the group and rushed at her.

“Stop!” Cassia yelled, her voice lacking any sense of authority however as she half-heartedly tried to raise her weapon at him.

The man hit her at full sprint, knocking her to the floor and sending her laspistol scattering away as he took off into a service corridor. She hurriedly crawled over to her weapon, drawing up to full height and regaining a measure of her composure. The rest of the Opertii including her sergeant were busy finishing off the remaining workers and had apparently not noticed the man who had ran at her.

Perhaps they thought that she had killed him.

Perhaps I should let them believe that

For a moment she considered it. Considered just letting the man go. Then her sense of duty got the better of her. Her duty to Guilliman and Greater Ultramar. The duty that had been bred into every citizen of the Star Empire and reinforced constantly since then. No matter what her orders were, she still had to follow them, damn whatever moral conflict it provoked in her. Clenching her jaw and steeling her resolve, she began to run after the man.

“The duty of the state is to best serve the citizenry. The duty of the citizenry is to best serve society. The duty of the enforcer is to protect the citizenry and serve the state” she repeated to herself, remembering the words of Guilliman that were drilled into the minds of every cadet of Ultramar’s military academies. As she repeated the mantra she felt her resolve hardening.

“Stop! Or I will open fire!” she shouted as she finally came to a halt to see the man making a final, exhausted sprint towards an automatic access door. She froze. She had studied the schematics of the lower levels before the operation. That access-way led to the central corridor of the communal halls where hundreds of workers would currently be congregating through during their sanctioned rest period. If they saw him…

“Please stop!” she was pleading now, her tone wavering and her fingers shaking even as she pointed the nose of laspistol at the fleeing figure. She couldn’t do it. This was against everything she believed about her home, her empire, her Ultramar. Were they really no better than the paranoid wolves of Inquisition after all?

“Take the shot! In Guilliman’s name take the shot!” her sergeant yelled at her as he sped towards her from the opposite walkway. The invocation of the Primarch’s name did it. It banished her doubts, if only for a moment, replacing them with the strength she needed to fulfill her duty.

The man went down, a smoking crater in the back of his head. A few more meters and the doors would have automatically opened, revealing to at least a hundred citizens of Ultramar the sight of a Vigil Opertii officer training her gun at a panicked worker.

She sank to her knees as her strength deserted her, dropping her weapon as scent of burning flesh made its way over to her. Her mouth was dry and her eyes wide open in a state of utter shock as implications of what she had felt like an icy grip slowly tightening around her chest. She was vaguely aware of wet drops sliding off her cheeks. Not tears of sadness she thought. That was her body reacting to the mental trauma of having everything she had believed in her entire life shattered in the space of an hour.

“You did your duty” said a reassuring voice behind her and a warm hand gently brushed the side of her face, wiping away the tears. She leaned into it, all her inhibitions dissolved as her mind desperately sought a source of comfort and stability. Looking up, she saw sergeant Crassus looking down with a genuinely warm smile on his face. He had taken off the glove of his right hand to touch her directly.

“Why” was all she managed to manage in a weak voice.

“I should thank you, Ensign. You helped expose their unwillingness to co-operate sooner.” His voice was kind and soft; he had never heard him to talk to anyone this way. Perhaps he was doing on purpose it to calm her down but she didn’t care, not now. He looked at her fallen laspistol.

“We needed to make it look like they were killed by another work gang. They were killed by agitators and extremists who wished to prevent them from reaching a compromise with their overseers. Once this news spreads among the industrial districts, public support of these malcontents will plummet and the civil authorities will be able to make arrests of well-known dissidents” he explained.

“Oh…” Cassia mumbled pathetically. It made sense now. It was logical. With the deaths of a few dozen, peace would be restored. Order would be preserved without the use of extreme actions and the prosperity of Ischara would be unspoiled. They had eliminated the root of the problem without disturbing the fabric of society. They were nothing like the Inquisition or those corrupt tyrants of the Imperium. No, they were better. They were civilized.

“I realize the first time can be difficult, Cassia” he said, brushing strands of loose hair from her cheek with delicate care. “Soon though, you will become a fine officer of the Opertii. You did well today.”

His words steeled her resolve. They added stability and comfort to the whirlwind of thoughts racing around her head. The same stability she had just lost and needed again. She removed her own gloves and clasped his bare hand with hers, turning to look into his eyes as she felt her lips forming into a smile. Fresh tears began to spill down her face as a wash of relief overcame her.

“Ultramar is civilized” she said.

She believed it once more.

@pholcidae @askrobouteguilliman40k @fuukonomiko @beans345

[skunts-own-truth]

What's your favourite 40k and/or HH book and why ? And your non 40k one ?

Gooollly, golly tough questions! Horus Heresy... is a tie between Know no Fear and Angel Exterminatus, with a heavy, heavy shoutout to Mark of Calth and Unremembered Empire. 40k currently is Dante. Like, hands down. I love how poncy the Blood Angels are, and how fun little kid Dante is. Also, gosh there are like only two Bolter Porn scenes, and you never have to deal with any other! It's great! Oh gosh. Uhm... can I answer Gaunts Ghosts for the none 40k one? No? But it's too good to just be 40k! ... okay, well Hyperion by Dan Simmons is pretty great. Shoutout to the King in Yellow by Robert Chambers.