thelostiilegion

[thelostiilegion]

The Escape

In orbit, Horatio had given the order for the fleet to leave orbit, and the following Thunderhawks should follow. The Legion Librarians had formed a conclave, and divined the direction in which they should go in order to return to the Imperium at the cost of two thirds of the conclave. The Invictus moved off at full impulse, hoping to get away from this dreaded planet as fast as they could. They had achieved their mission, and hoped that they would be back in Imperial space before long. On the surface, the last of the Astartes was cut low by the order of the Lord of the Tomb, the great ethereal skeleton’s metal shimmering, his ragged and faded cloak continued to whip in an unnatural breeze. He looked to the skies watching the last of the invaders leave their orbit, their afterburners becoming nothing more than specks in the blackness. Without a word from the Lord, a Tomb Spider fed a metallic tube into a fitting in the wall, transmitting a galaxy wide signal calling for the rise of the Eternal Warriors. A treasure had been stolen, and it must be returned at all costs. The Resurrection Orb was the greatest weapon the Necrons possessed, the ability the resurrect the fallen warriors of their race. The Necron Lord looked above again, his mind growing dark, as did the sky. As the spores rained into the ground, the Lord ordered his warriors to open fire on these new intruders, but as much as they fired, the beasts kept coming, an unrelenting tide of chitin and bone, tearing his warriors apart and overwhelming his monoliths. Then the bigger beasts arrived, shrieking death accompanied by razor sharp claws and talon. If he had known fear, this is when he would have felt it, but he did not, and he ordered his men to continue fighting the defence of the tomb. The Ravenous Beast continued the onslaught, mycetic spores of all shapes and sizes disgorging all manner of beasts. The senior Commanders of the Legion were assembled on the bridge, watching in absurd interest as the scene unfolded. The bizarre ships of the aliens began to encircle the planet, thousands of tiny beasts being continuously spat out towards the planet’s surface. On the surface the scene was worse than any nightmare that could have been imagined. The Tyranids continued their onslaught, despite the impleccable march of the Necrons. The Necron Lord ordered his soldiers to continue the defence of their tomb. The unusual weapons at their disposal made short work of the Tyranids, vaporising entire broods, whilst the Tyranids for their part sent entire Carnifex broods hurtling through the ranks. The Necron Pylons again fired, each shot finding it’s mark and vaporising entire ships in orbit, causing the blasted beasts to fall to the planet, engulfed in eldritch flame. The Pylons continued to fire, each shot finding the intended target, the Tyranids ships not altering their position and making easy picking. Elements of the Tyranid fleet began floating passed the barren planet, no flora or fauna for them to harvest so they would not waste unnecessary resources but they would sacrifice what had been seen to slow the enemy. The last of the Tyranid fleet in orbit came crashing to the surface, crushing those beneath but disgorging yet more horrors into the fray. The Tyranids Norn Queen, dislodged from her place in the heart of the ship flailed around, trying to stand upon legs that resembled spindles more than anything to the human mind. Finally finding her feet, the Norn Queen rose up, bellowing in agony and pure rage. The Necron Lord’s gaze remained unfaultered, and with a silent gesture, the Pylons altered their trajectory to aim at this new behemoth that dared desercrate the surface of his planet. With the same force as several militonnes of high explosive, the Pylons ripped the Norn Queen to shreds as she crushed an entire Monolith with her gigantic claws; the resultant shredded biomass being deposited over than area of several hundred kilometres coating all within range with the foul smelling, charred remains.

The Tyranids were not difficult to eradicate from the planet, without sustenance and biomass they could not reproduce nor create new life forms to remove them from the desolate rock. The Necrons made short work of the survivors, almost herding them into kill zones and xcutting them down. The larger beasts were the first to go, the Necron flyers hunting them down from above, it was almost like sport to them. Once the larger beasts had been dealt with, the smaller ones began to revert to instintive behaviour, staying in large packs, making them easier to track and kill. It took the Necrons less than a Terran week to remove all trace of the Tyranids from their home and return to their slumber whilst their fleet was prepared. The Lord settled back into his throne and with his last thoughts sent the binary codes for the Tomb Spyders to prepare the fleet and awaken the guard when the task is complete. His property will be returned to him and none shall stand in his way.

Meanwhile, the rest of the Tyranid fleet had swept past the Tomb world, following the scent that had been left by the escaping Space Marines, their ranckor was thick in the void of space, leading the beast to its quarry. The mass of living ships split, most of the amassed ships vanishing in the blinking of an eye. The rest stayed behind the prey, each moment the Tyranid vanguard elements closed in to the limping Imperial craft. Even moving at full speed the Invictus was merely a few light years ahead, buying them months, weeks, maybe even days before they were caught. The main Tyranid fleet stayed at a distance, even the Hive Mind knew that there was no point wasting rescources unnecesserily, and if this little blip did not lead to a harvest, then not much was wasted.

“Praetor, my Lord, we are being followed.” Horatio’s blood began to run cold. If these metal men were now following him, they would be devastated before they could retaliate. “It’s….its biological.” “What?!” Horatio wheeled around almost flew across the bridge. “Give me everything, all telemetry, visuals, give me everything!” “We have visuals on the vanguard, telemetry states they are at a distance of three light years but they are closing and rapidly. We may have a matter of weeks before they catch up.” Isaac steeled his gaze towards the Praetor. The rest of the assembled Chapter Masters followed his gaze as the Praetor moved away from Isaac. He walked over to the command chairs at the heart of the bridge and took a long look at the throne upon which an unknown individual would have sat. Gathering his cloak before him, Horatio turned and sat in his own position, and arched his fingers before him as his chin rested upon his thumbs. Deep in thought, Horatio rationalised and reordered every possible scenario. He could deploy the fleet, splinter the legion in several directions, hoping that the swarm following them might choose to splinter themselves and thus give them some chance to escape or at least find safety. With absolutely no certainty of even finding their way back to the Imperium themselves Horatio had the hardest decision anybody in the Legion had had to make. “Have the Fleet devised a way of finding a way back?” Horatio asked with urgency in his voice. Isaac strode purposefully over to Horatio and handed him a data-slate. “We believe the Navigator pointed the ship in this direction with his last move before he was taken by the Immaterium. There was a sudden shift in the ships heading at the last moment before we dropped out of the warp and the Gellar field fell. This is the heading we are now heading along. I believe this is our only hope.” Horatio nodded solemnly. “Full thrust to the engines, get us moving as fast as we can away from this threat.” Isaac nodded and gave the necessary orders, with a noticeable tug being felt throughout the craft as the engines were pushed to their absolute limit. Within the cavernous belly of the ship, ten battle barges of enormous size were tethered being prepared for war, and for escape should the worst happen. The First Centurion Phelios Ducé strode along the gangway hanging above the behemoths of space, marvelling at their enormity. “You are required in the Chambers, Sir.” One of the Solar Auxillia stationed aboard the ship had approached Phelios without him noticing, almost startling him with his sudden words. “Yes, thank you.” Phelios responded as the man he dwarfed walked away, looking in awe at the ships himself. Phelios smiled at this then turned on his heal and made his way towards the Council Chambers.

The great stained glass windows that lined the walls of the Council Chamber showed the greatest battles and the darkest days since the Unification Wars upon Holy Terra, great triumphs and heroic last stands in the face of adversity. Within one of the windows, a seen was depicted from more recent times, the saving of a planet from the Ork menace that plagued the galaxy. It showed the descent of the First, Second, Eigth and Tenth Chapters to repel the green tide. In one scene it showed the Ork Warboss slaying down a Space Marine of high standing, the last scene showed a heroic Space Marine stood a top a mound of dead green skins, holding the head of the Warboss high in the air while the population rejoices. This man now strode into the Council Chamber and nodded to the Fourth Chapter Master as he breezed passed him, moving towards his seat. In the centre of the room was the marble table still, strewn with data-slates and holo-picts. A hush fell as the Praetor strode in with his Eternals, slowly placing his helmet upon the table, Horatio hung his head as he looked around the room, if you could call it that. So many faces, some fresh faced to the roles of leadership and others old hands, he saw Isaac, sat with the new First Centurion. A hero amongst his own, rallying the beleaguered drop force that had been over run by an Ork Waagh. After the First Centurion was slain of the Warboss, the young Centurion had fought through to fight the Warboss himself, breaking through the Nob host around the Warboss single handed. Horatio had marvelled at his tenacity and strength and purpose, the young Marine may one day even make First Commander should he survive. “We have a decision to make, a grave decision that may be the making or breaking of us. We can either,” Horatio paused, looking round the room at the steely eyes gazing back at him, “separate and run in all directions, and try and find home. Or. We can stay together and try to fend off this beast as a Legion, as brothers. We shall take a vote, all those in favour of standing and fighting, please stand.” Almost as one, every officer in the Chamber stood, every single one. They had all lost brothers, stood by them as they fell to the enemies of the Emperor and the Imperium. Even the Senior officers of the Solar Auxillia attached to the Legion stood in defiance of this new threat. Horatio smiled, he knew there was a chance they could survive, even the slimmest hope was hope enough. Without even speaking again, the assembled marines filed out and to their stations preparing for a war that could end their entire Legion. “Phelios, a word?” Horatio took the young Centurion aside, leading him over to the table at the centre of the room where Isaac, Darius and Horatio’s Eternals were stood. As the senior officers left, the Master of Sanctity walked in, his pitch black armour standing out against the bone colour of the officers. It was unusual for the Master of Sanctity not to be present, but then Cornelius Vru was a man of his own volition, especially since his return from Cadia. Once the other officers had left the room, the Eternals removed their helmets causing Phelios to gasp slightly; he had never seen an Eternal without a helmet on. Just like all the Terminator brothers, the Eternals had jet black helmets, with black lenses making it look like the helmets had no eyes at all. The Eternals each bore scars upon their faces, each speaking of a different war on a different world. “The plan is this, brothers, we will deploy the Neophytes aboard the Oculus and send them ahead by a couple of light years, try and keep them safe from harm and allow them to continue their training.” “Is this a wise and prudent measure, Horatio? Surely they would be better served helping us defend the Invictus should the need arise? And surely they are would better equipped learning to fight alongside the Initiated?” Phelios was shocked at the familiarity that the Eternal showed to the Praetor. But then, these men were responsible for his protection, a level of intimacy would almost be expected. “Phelios? Your thoughts?” Phelios was brought out of his revere with a crash as the Eternal asked him a question. “Sorry?” Phelios responded hurriedly. “Your thoughts, Centurion, upon the deploying of the Neophytes upon the Oculus.” Phelios rubbed his stubble chin. It made sense to separate the future of the Legion from the main body to preserve them, maybe. But then, they may be needed to defend the Invictus. “Aye, it makes sense to deploy them away from here, but kept within response range if need be.” Horatio nodded at the logic in Phelios’ statement, as did the others obviously. “I will make the arrangements, Praetor.” Said Darius softly. “And I shall prepare the Oculus.” Isaac turned away from the table and left the room, followed by Darius. Horatio clapped his hand upon the shoulder of the young Centurion. Cornelius had stayed silent through it all, but smiled at Phelios as the rest of the group filed out.

The black nothingness between the Invictus and the chasing horde was shortening, and the Tyranid vanguard organisms were closing on their prey. Soon they would be upon the hunted, and the beast would feast, and grow and learn. The yearning need to consume drove the beasts on harder, chasing their prey all that much more earnestly. The feast would soon be upon them, and it would be glorious.

[thelostiilegion]

Descent

Horatio stood on the bridge and watched the Thunderhawks carrying the reconnaissance squads descend through the atmosphere and disappear from view. Within seconds the squads were deployed and moving towards the camp. The Thunderhawks could not drop the squads directly into the camp due to the almost impossible terrain which almost seemed to be designed to deter any kind of craft landing upon its surface. Horatio selected the helmet vid-link of the Centurion leading the teams and ordered a scribe start taking notes. Centurion Volus proceeded with caution, not wanting to put a foot wrong on the uneven and seemingly spiked surface. Looking behind, he saw the hundred reconnaissance marines also picking their way across the surface. He had been a Centurion for a little over a decade, and proved his worth in reconnaissance and sabotage, being instrumental in several siege engagements in the past few months. He heard a rumble, and motioned for his teams to drop to one knee, bringing down their outline should their position be compromised, then a team of ten Sky Hunters flew over, and zooming round into the next valley to ensure sky dominance over the camp. Shaking his head at his own mistake, Volus carried on, leading the marines through the treacherous terrain. Only half an hour later, and they had reached the camp. Volus established a perimeter, with marines taking up vantage positions within the ruined site, making the best of cover whilst he proceeded on into the heart of the site, whilst the Sky Hunters wheeled overhead. “Are the vox and vid-links satisfactory?” Volus enquired. “Contact is clear, Centurion, proceed.” Responded Horatio. The Centurion made his way into the central examination chamber, where the tests on the orb had been conducted. The scene was a bloodbath, servitors were mangled, equipment was strewn everywhere. The Tech-Magos leading the expedition lay in a crumpled heap, the skin and muscle flayed from his body, leaving only the machinery attached to his skeleton. Volus turned away from the body in disgust, then looked back. “Markings on the machinery denote that this is in fact Arch-Magos Lire, he is non-recoverable. The brain appears to have been removed,” Volus continued, moving the skull around. “There are no signs of any penetrating ammunition, nor are there any distinguishable discarded ammunition casings. It certainly is not any form of laser technology, as that also would have caused a penetrating, hang on, what’s that beeping!” The Centurion stopped mid-sentence and an audible ‘beep’ could be heard. The marines started turning over machinery, throwing useless debris away until one of them came across an auspex that was emitting the noise. It seemed to be transmitting the position of a locator beacon, situated some four hundred miles to the west of their current location. Volus dictated the coordinates on the auspex back up to the Invictus, to allow the Council a better view of the Geology. The coordinates came up as a mountainous area, with initial scans showing nothing in the form of flora or fauna inhabiting the area. Horatio ordered the immediate relocation of the Sky Hunters to the new coordinates, and for Centurion Volus to begin making an area accessible for a Thunderhawk to retrieve materials from the explorator camp. Volus acknowledged the order and immediately set about tearing down structures and moving invaluable pieces of equipment ready for transport back to the Invictus. The Sky Hunters quickly arrived at the coordinates and relayed the lay of the land to Horatio. The ground appeared stable enough to support the weight of landing craft, and the surface was flatter than surrounding area. The Centurion leading the Sky Hunters also noticed what appeared to be footprints in the dust, indicating recent movement in the area, but there were no population centres on the planet. There was no breeze, so the Centurion put it down purely to that of the explorator team. Within seconds, the Sky Hunters were joined by Thunderhawks and Storm Eagles carrying troops and commanders. Horatio had dispatched his Seventh and Eighth Chapters along with his second in command, the First Commander, Darius Falgard. Darius was battle hardened in the worst way; prior to reunification with Lucius, Darius served as a Centurion in the Second Chapter of the Imperial Templars, and in one specific engagement, his entire Chapter was trapped behind enemy lines without any hope of rescue. It was only through the decisive breakthrough from Horatio and the First, Third and Tenth Chapters and saw him rescued, with Darius having taken personal command of the Chapter after the Chapter master had been slain. After that, Darius had been promoted up quickly through the ranks, taking on the mantle of Chapter Master of both the Second and First Chapters in quick succession, then taking on his present mantle fifty years previous, just as the Great Crusades were getting into full swing. Darius stepped off the Storm Eagle and surveyed the area. He was on his own now, radio silence with the Invictus had been ordered in case it was an ambush. He knew this could be a suicide mission, but if that was so, then he would at least die trying. The air was unnervingly still upon this barren rock, not even the dust was carried on any form of a breeze. As his marines filed out of the Thunderhawks, small puffs of dust rose around their boots, slowly falling back to the ground or swirling around behind their advance. Once all the transports had left, he established a perimeter and dispatched a number of reconnaissance squads to investigate the cliff face from which the locator beacon was activated for any form of entrance and it wasn’t long before they had found one. Looking directly at it, you would never have known there was a door there, but looking along the face of the rock, there was a slight recession visible, and then even more apparent when feeling along it. The planet had started to darken, the twin Suns both setting over the jagged horizon, casting an eerie red glow. As if by magic, luminous runes began to appear along the surface of the rock door, marking the extent of its size. Darius stood back in awe, the door was easily as wide as a Thunderhawk was long, if not larger, causing him to wonder what on earth used these doors as a means of entrance and exit. He turned to one of the Chapter Masters, “Can you decipher the runes?” He enquired. The Master shook his head, also completely speechless. Then the doors opened, with a great rushing of the wind blowing the dust up into great storms, rushing inside the mountain. The noise inside the storm was deafening, Darius not even being able to hear the calls for acknowledgement of status from the numerous assembled squads. Once it had died down, the vox-calls were almost deafening themselves, causing Darius to snap his response before apologising. Staring into the gaping black maw of the mountain, Darius gave the order to advance. The dust had settled to only be disturbed by the falling feet of the advancing Astartes, their black lenses not even glowing in the almost pitch black of the impossible cavern. The cave, if you could call it that was impossibly quiet, and seemed endless, the darkness never ending. After a solid two hours delving into the depths, Darius gave the order to halt, the squads taking up defensive positions as the senior officers converged on the First Commander. “A little unorthodox, Commander?” enquired Franz Mercur, Master of the Seventh Chapter, almost whispering himself. Darius nodded to his subordinate. “This is an unorthodox mission, Franz. We can just about see in this near gloom, so a new approach must be met. You,” pointing to the Centurion leading the leading company, “form a point guard, arrowhead formation. We will then continue with the support squads of the Third and Fourth companies forming the rest of the arrow head to the walls, followed by the respective tactical squads. The remaining support squads will then form a cross pattern and a reflection of the formation on the rear guard. Tactical squads will form in fill to prevent infill. All understood?” The assembled senior officers confirmed their agreement and moved off, issuing their orders as they went. The gloom was still endless as the formation moved further into the depths. But unknown to these fearless warriors, a slumbering beast was awakening, a beast that was hungry for war. Horatio stood on the bridge of the Invictus watching the vid-links of twenty of his Astartes in the formation. The infrared vision of the Astartes showed at least some of the darkness, but to Horatio the darkness seemed almost artificial. How? He had no idea, but with the enhanced eyesight and the infrared vision of the helmets an Astartes can see almost perfectly in the dark. However, this darkness was like no darkness he had seen before. The lead Centurion’s vid-link started showing something interesting. A neon green glow pierced through the gloom, maybe four hundred yards in front on the left. Darius had seen the glow as well, and Centurion Volus received the order to examine the green glow from First Commander Darius, and with a short series of vox-bursts, the order was relayed to his company. Volus moved forward through his company, and at a hundred yards distance was taking point of the formation. The ominous green glow was in fact a symbol, seemingly etched into the rock face, but once Volus was up close, he could see a skeletal figure, almost human in appearance. The skull was slightly elongated in the facial futures, but the body was a completely anatomically correct metal skeleton, very much unlike the Skitarii of the Mechanicum. Horatio was watching the inspection himself, baffled as to what it was, but it seemed dormant regardless. Horatio gave the instruction to continue onwards, following the locator beacon deeper in. Eventually, the formation was converging on the locator beacon, and what was presented before them was almost unbelievable, but there it was. Sheathed in an almost incandescent light, lightening arcing away from the glowing orb on the raised plinth in the centre of the room. An obsidian platform raised out of the ground some two hundred feet, with a five foot plinth placed atop of the pyramid like structure. The lightening eminating from the orb lit up the walls of the cavern, causing the Tomb Spiders to stop in their tracks, having now noticed the intruders into their most sacred shrine. A binary message was sent out to awaken the Tomb, to defend the orb at all costs. Darius strode purposefully up the pyramid structure reaching the top in moments. The two Chapter Masters joined him when he hesitated at the top of the structure. One of the Chapter Masters suddenly whipped round, looking at the wall. “Could have sworn something just moved on the wall.” He muttered. The Tomb Spider stopped still, blending in with the darkness encompassing the room. Darius shook the thoughts of phantom movements from his mind and reached for the orb. A few inches away his hand came across a resistance, like a small force field. Darius removed his hand, shook doubt from his mind again then tried to plunge his hand back in again. As he did, he watched in horror as the layers of adamantium armour started being stripped away, layer by layer. He forced his hand in harder, reaching, straining for the orb. The lightening and stopped arcing away from it now, and the cavern was in complete darkness save for the glow from the orb. As the last layer of armour was removed from the gauntleted hand, Darius grasped the orb and lifted. The force field vanished, and with it the attack on his armour. Immediately giving the order to retreat, Darius broke radio silence with the Invictus to request extraction with support. Horatio acknowledged and dispatched the Twelvth and Thirteenth Chapters to provide a support fire base for extraction. The swarm of Thunderhawks that almost immediately descended upon the planet almost blotting out the first rising sun. The Astartes formation was making an ordered withdrawal from the tomb, not knowing that behind them all the skeletal Warriors were waking up, and faster than they were retreating. Volus was the first to notice it, out of the corner of his eye to start with then all along the pitch black wall. Green glowing runes lighting up, then they started dropping from the wall, a similar green glows suddenly appearing along the barrels of their long guns. “First Commander, we have a problem.” Volus spoke in almost a hushed whisper. “Quite,” Darius replied, “move, everybody, MOVE!” Darius barked, the order being spread down the lines of command. “Engage and retreat.” Was the second order from Darius, as the Astartes began firing on the metal men. As one battalion retreated, another covered their retreat and so on. The metal men kept moving forward, but never fired. Even as their own kind fell, they just trampled over them, a ceaseless march not unlike the Ork hordes the Legion had already encountered. Then it happened, all of a sudden. It was horrific, the sheer horror was almost undescribable. The metal skeletons opened fire, if that’s what you could call it. The entire front row released a bank of green energy. Not a single burst missed its mark and the intended targets just vanished, their entire existence reduced to dust. The retreat stopped in shock, then they fired again, this time more of them. Sixty Astartes vanished in this second attack. Volus ordered his Support squads to the fore, their plasma guns finding their marks and thirty of the metal men fell, some losing legs and arms and continuing to fire with unerring accuracy. In a single volley, the entirety of Volus’ Support squads were unceremoniously cut down, each reduced to nothingness. Volus could only watch in horror as his men were cut down in cold blood, but he was steeled against such things. Ordering the remainder of his company to fall back and provide covering fire, he started moving backwards firing into the relentless horde. To his left, Centurion Asisas vanished a flash of green as he was struck, along with the entirety of his company. More of the metal men were falling into line and opening fire, turning it into a massacre. They were coming up on the entrance now, and Darius gave the order to break and run, knowing that as they cleared the entrance, the support companies of their reinforcements could open fire with their heavy weapons. He knew refusing to take the heavy support companies was a risky moves, but they would have just slowed them down in this situation. He knew the order to turn and run was against all their principles, but he felt they had no choice. His men were outnumbered and clearly outgunned. As the marines ran, more were cut down by the unholy green light stripping them down to nothing, even a glancing blow would maim the victim, stopping them escaping and allowing the implacable advance to hack them to death with the blades on the end of their unnatural rifles. As Darius and what was left of his task force broke free of the cavern entrance, he ordered the reserve force to open fire with everything they had. All of a sudden, rockets, heavy bolts, lascannon bursts and searing plasma burst into the ranks of the metal tide forcing its way out of the tomb. Frag missiles would detonate amongst the ranks, scattering metal parts. Lascannon bursts were vaporising the creatures, as plasma melted them. Heavy bolt rounds cut into the warriors, tearing of limbs and decapitating others. Darius spared a moment as he boarded a Thunderhawk to turn and watch the valiant defence of the retreat, just as his nightmares seemed to unfold before him. A great, floating obelisk moved effortlessly above the metal men, and then it happened. In the top corners of the floating stone, two sets of tri-linked weapons appeared, then fired. It appeared to be the same energy as with the weapons of the foot soldiers, but much, much stronger. The two weapons unleashed hell, ripping through the ranks of the retreating marines. Then the weapons changed their trajectory, ripping through three whole Thunderhawks, the ensuing fireballs engulfing the Astartes trying to board the craft. Shouting for an immediate withdrawal of all operational craft, Darius ordered the closing of the ramp as the last marine dived into the door. Centurion Volus watched as Thunderhawks began to take off, and began rallying soldiers to form and orderly defence of the beach-head. As rank after rank fell to the horrendous weapons they faced, Volus felt dread for the first time. A fleeting feeling of absolute despair, that there was no way out. That all the training he had received to protect His Almighty Imperium was for nought. Falling to his knees, Volus hung his head in resignation. Tearing off his helmet, Volus exposed his shaven head to the lifeless planet, his black eyes looking like coals, coals fresh from the fires of war. Looking up, Volus steeled himself and swore vengeance against this Xenos who dared question the might of the Imperium. He roared his oath of allegiance to the Emperor and charged forward. His brothers around him saw this valiant act and charged themselves into the fray. Volus knew he was doomed, there was no rescuing them, the fleet would not risk sending more Thunderhawks if this was the weapons they were against. He charged headlong into the fray swearing to bring as many of the Xenos down as he could. Firing his bolter into the skull of one and shattering his combat blade on the throat of another, Volus resolved to club them to death with his bolter, shattering it upon the face of the next advancing soldier. Drawing his bolt pistol he cratered the chest of another Xenos before erupting the spine of one that was tearing apart Brother Kha, then he felt a searing heat in his right leg and looked down to find the limb missing. His enhanced blood cells stemmed the blood flow from the limb as he crumpled to the ground. Around him his brothers were being ripped almost limb from limb, and being ingloriously hacked apart by the Xenos rifles. He felt a tug on his backpack and wheeled his bold pistol round to fire, but looked up to Chapter Master Franz. “Come Brother, you shall fight another day!” The Chapter Master roared as he handed Volus his storm bolter to cover their retreat to the waiting Thunderhawk. Above the planet, more Thunderhawks were deployed, their deadly cargo carrying the heaviest weapons of the Imperium. Brother Xerxes shifted the weight of his plasma cannon, watching his squad prepare their own weapons for the coming battle. In a sudden scream of retro thrusters, Brother Xerxes knew they were mere seconds from landing and with a soft hiss the front ramp dropped down and the thunder of war washed into the passenger bay of the Thunderhawk. The Space Marines wasted no time and in well versed precision they deployed to battle and set up firing lines to cover their retreating brothers. With an inaudible whisper, the order to fire was given and heavy bolt and plasma rained into the advancing flanks of metal men. The three squads of brothers carrying lascannons trained the most destructive man portable weapons on the floating Monolith and fired. Many of the shots were simply absorbed into the rippling skin, but those that did not caused great sparks and green flame to erupt from the holes that had been punched into the living metal. The failed shots did not deter the Marines, and they lined up repeat targets. Firing again, more shots found their marks this time, causing the Monolith to tilt uneasily to the left, with one round luckily vaporising one of the gun mounts. As the Monolith tilted, it rotated round, bringing to bear a new face and a fresh, intact gun mount. Towards the bottom of this new flank, a piece of the exterior wall moved and exposed a flowing green portal that rippled with unnatural energy. Then the impossible happened; the fallen warriors dematerialised, and fresh soldiers walked from this portal, firing off shots as soon as their feet hit the ground. Master Franz froze on the spot as he watched this unfold, a Space Marine frozen with shock, but he resolved himself and ordered volleys from the heavy weapons into this new threat. As Brother Xerxes’ squad fired their plasma cannons and heavy bolters into the portal, the metal men fell or melted from the burning plasma. The lascannons fired at the cannons again, scoring fair hits, disabling the horrendous weapons, but not stopping the advance of the living rock. Horatio watched from orbit with a cold calculating gaze, trying to predict the next move. Turning to his Fleet Commander, he deployed the battle fleet, which until now had laid dormant within the belly of the Invictus. Great Battle Barges floated from the hull of the great warship, taking up designated positions within low orbit continuing the deployment of Thunderhawks, many now carrying Predator and Sicaran battle tanks to assist in the recovery of as many of the brethren as possible. As the tanks lay down a withering hail of fire, the abominations also upped the anti, deploying their own weapons platforms. Looking like a man fused with jetbike, these creatures carried heavy versions of the weapons employed by the rank and file. Green fire burst outwards, tearing into the hulls of the battle tanks, detonating magazines and fuel tanks. The detonations rocked the ground, forcing the groaning, tortured metal into the air or streaking across the ground, crushing any in their way. The battleground was now stretching to be kilometres wide, and more Monoliths were gliding from their resting place to disgorge more of the undead soldiers. It was a blood bath, as the Space Marines felled one warrior, five more took their place and Horatio was deliberating plans for more radical actions. “Send the order, all survivors are to retreat. Retrieve as much of the war material as possible, we are out matched and out gunned. There is only one option that remains to us. Give the order to the fleet that on my mark, deploy the Lance strikes. Pray we buy sufficient time and they do not leave the planet and follow us.” The Fleet Commander nodded and relayed the order to the barge commanders. Down on the ground, First Commander Darius was organising the retreat. Four whole Chapters had now been deployed with associated support material and he was responsible for them returning from whence they came. Looking to his right, he watched the First Chapter covering the retreat of the Seventh Chapter as they boarded their Thunderhawks. Once the Seventh Chapter had left the surface, the First Chapter redeployed to cover what was left of the Eight Chapter. Centurion Phelios was directing precise firing arcs from his Terminator squads, himself bedecked in Terminator armour. The green light of the enemy burned into the Terminator armour, but did not penetrate their thick hides. The mixed patterns of Indomitus, Tartaros and Cataphractii Terminators stood undetered. Their assembled weapons firing into the ranks of the advancing horde, creating a protective wall shielding their brothers from the horrendous fire. A few of the Terminators fell, but it was not in vain, their bone coloured armour ruptured and stripped of its existence. But this did not stop Centurion Phelios from his anointed task. First Commander Darius fought through the turmoil to the First Chapter, now defending the Tenth Chapter in their attempt to get off world. What remained of the heavy armour had been retrieved, with tens of desecrated hulls strewn over the battlefield. The ruptured carcasses of Thunderhawks and Stormeagles and left great craters and furrows from where they had plummeted to the ground. Soon all that was left were the First Chapter and First Commander Darius, their extraction incoming and the full weight of their enemy pressed around them. Centurion Phelios found he had a bitter taste in his mouth, almost metallic, an instinctively looked skyward as the first Lance strike buried itself into the oncoming horde. A second strike pierced into a Monolith, causing it to explode and rain its constituent parts into the swarm around it. Soon, a continuous line of Lance strikes were beating down into the advancing horde, cutting off any advancement and allowing the First Chapter to pick off what they could that survived. The Turbolasers and the arriving Thunderhawks caused great trenches to be dug in the lines of the still advancing warriors, buying the elite of the Legion precious time to board. The master of the metal men emerged from his tomb just in time to watch the Thunderhawks blazing away into the sky. His ragged cloak swirled around him in an unearthly breeze, his green eyes cold and lifeless. With a raise of his arm, he opened his closed fist, causing the walls of the cliff-face to crumble away revealing greater, even more terrible weapons than had already been brought to bear. A flick of his index finger, and these pylons disgorged their lethal projectiles, four finding their mark and downing the retreating aircraft. Those that did not find their mark continued out into orbit, some finding homes in the hulls of battle barges, ripping great gouges through the hull as they continued outwards; others continuing out into the infinality of space.

[thelostiilegion]

Arrival

Red dust from the bare earth hung on the unearthly breeze as the men of iron strode purposefully across the barren land. Before them the great manufactoriums of Mars loomed high into the sky, the closest reaching low orbit. Horatio Cortez stood and admired the beautiful pair of spacecrafts before him. The Invictus Imperialis was the larger of the two craft and was to be the one carrying his Legion for this mission. It's sister craft, the Vindictus Imperialis, despite being smaller in stature, was just as heavily armed and armoured as her larger sister. Both craft were in a geo-stationary orbit above Mars, upon which Horatio was stood with a number of his senior officers and counterparts. These gods of humanity had been brought together to go on a secret mission, a mission known only to those privy such as Horatio. Horatio had a bad feeling about this mission, as though something was going to go horribly wrong, but he cast his doubts aside and lead the way back to the Storm Eagle resting upon a platform, the bitter red dust following in their wake. As the front ramp rose up and the thrusters fired up, the dust whipped upon in a frenzy, forming red vortexes all around the craft. Horatio caught a last glimpse of the red planet before the bay closed, whisps of the dust laden air seeped in, forming small piles on the floor. He smiled as he reached down and scooped the dust in his fist and let it cascade between his gauntleted hand. A few weeks later and the Space Marines were ready to depart upon their epic journey across the void into unknown territory. The thousands of battle brothers were assembled upon Mars, ready for transportation to their respective vessels, and they stood at attention, watching two giants walk upon a raised platform. Horatio stood beside his Master of the Fleet, then stepped forward and began a speech in his loud, booming voice. "Today, we set off on a journey! A journey into the unknown, a journey we may never return from, or a journey we may return from victorious! Today is the beginning of the reckoning of our history! We take with us a hunger for new technologies, technologies that have not even seen the light of day. Now, you may ask what are we going for? Why are we going beyond the reach of the Crusades, beyond hope of help. We hunt a prize. A prize seen only once before. This prize has the power to Immortalise the Imperium of Man!" Horatio paused briefly and surveyed the assembled marines before him. Not a single one flinched. They knew their duty and that was to expand the Empire and protect it from those that seemed to harm it. He was proud to be their Lord Commander, and he turned to look across the assembled marines and then continued. "We shall warp jump to a point far beyond the Eastern Fringe, far beyond Macragge to a planet where an exploration team was lost. We are to recover the team and whatever they found, or die trying! Death and Glory!" The final sentence was said in more of a roar, and the once static marines roared back at him. Horatio descended down to the front of the assembled marines, looking back out upon the series ranks of power armoured brethren alongside his subordinates. He felt an unease, but turned to his counterparts and wished him the Emperors Grace nonetheless as they parted to travel to their awaiting craft. Horatio remained upon Mars with the Eternals of the Imperial Templars until the last of the assembled had left, then Horatio turned to the Fabricator-General, yet words failed him. "The mission which you undertake is a grave one and one which I do hope you return from." The Fabricator-General said, in a somewhat subdued tone. Horatio nodded then bowed to the Fabricator-General and then went their separate ways, with Horatio and his guards boarded the last Storm Eagle and began their journey into the unknown. Horatio came round lying on the floor, as were his brothers around him. Dazed and confused, Horatio tried to make sense of what had happened. He stood up, stumbled sideways and fell over again. The Invictus seemed to be off kilter somehow, and the artificial gravity in the ship was not functioning correctly. An acrid smell of burning metal permiated into Horatio's nostrils, forcing him to wrinkle his nose in disgust. Presently the Master of the Fleet crawled from his command post on the vast and vaulted bridge to the Praetor who was still sprawling on the floor. "Where exactly are we?" Horatio propositioned the deck, nausea unusually overtaking the super-human. "We.....we have no scanners, no comms, nothing!" The Fleet Master responded, utterly perplexed. "What are we doing here?" Was Horatio's next question, yet none around him could give him an answer. It was as though they had forgotten their history, why they were there and what the reason for them being there was. They could remember their names, ranks, roles, but their memories of long ago battles were hazy and inconsistent. Each Brother was as lost as the next. "What are your commands, Sire?" The Master enquired, fear evident in his voice. "Contact the engine deck, get us stabilised and find out the damage." "Aye, Sir!" was the solemn response. Within moments the ship was righted and full head count of the crew was underway. It quickly came back that the Navigator that had been guiding the ship in the warp had been overcome by demons, but he still retained enough sanity and sight to get them to their destination before he had succumbed to the warp, clawed his own eyes out and scratched himself to death. His cabin was a pure bloodbath where he had flung himself against the walls and the glass dome. When Horatio saw the damage he shook his head in shame, "He will never be replaced, it is going to be a long trip home." He had mused to another of his subordinate commanders, who nodded in solemn admission of this fact. "Any indication of what we are doing here?" Horatio asked breathlessly. He knew it was an almost pointless question as if they were still in the warp there would be no response anyway. Then realisation hit him, they had no Astronomican and short range vox-comms were inoperable, so there would be no way of contacting anybody in any case. "Forget it." he grumbled to his perplexed Fleet Master. Isaac Gulash was a quiet, brooding individual with a balding head, which he kept shaved to avoid looking ridiculous in front of his brothers. He had fought alongside Horatio since he could not remember when, and knew the Praetor all too well. They had only been in a situation once before like this, and the Praetor effectively shut down for a day and a night, but when he came back, he came back with resolve, but that was before this bewildering event. It was his duty to protect the father of their Legion and ensure his safety at all costs, and Isaac was certain that Horatio now felt as though he had failed in this quest. Running after Horatio he caught up with him not far from Horatio's quarters and spun the lost Praetor round to face him. "Brother, look at me! All is not lost, we may have arrived at what appear to be our designated coordinates, there is a mission-log which details what we are here to do, and that can still go ahead, albeit we may now be outnumbered, but there was that chance even before now. Take some time to rest, then look again. In a new light, I know you can lead us." Horatio looked even more saddened at these words. But then his face steeled as he looked back at his brother. "Prepare the mission-log for me and then maybe we can make sense of why we are here. Perform a survey sweep of this system and as many surrounding systems as we can, see if we can establish where exactly we are." and with that Horatio turned and entered his quarters, closing the door behind him. Isaac bowed to the closed door and set off back to the bridge to carry out his orders. Far below them was their intended target, a desolate planet which bore no signs of life. The video file sent back by the Mechanicum Exploration Team had documented finding an unusual orb lying in the midst of the ruins of what once was a grand city, obviously destroyed by some cataclysmic event, eradicating the entire population. They had found that when presented to a deceased individual, such as the servitor that had fallen down a shaft, locating the orb, it came back to life, with no ill effects. The experiment had then been repeated on an executed servitor with the same results, showing that it was in fact almost identical to another artefact found by the Warmaster Horus and his Legion upon a dead world in Imperial Space, but that artefact was subsequently destroyed whilst fighting the Ork infestation upon that planet before it could be properly examined. These results were relayed to the Warmaster and the Emperor, as well as the report of unknown seismic activity occurring upon the planet. That file was sent almost two years ago and the Exploration Team no longer existed, long dead after being found by the inhabitants of the planet wishing to take back what was theirs, but the Exploration team had been canny. In case of raid or attack, the Tech-Priests had installed a locator beacon on the surface of the orb so it could be found again, without alerting the individuals who now kept the orb. The beings who had come out of the ground to take back the orb had risen silently and stalked their prey. Upon identifying the most opportune moment, the metal men attacked and laid siege to the Explorator camp in the middle of the vid-log, which fortunately had been sent back to the Imperium not long after the final test results, prompting the Imperium to dispatch a force to recover the artefact. Now the planet lay silent again, the metal men, the Necrons, comfortable in their slumber as Tomb Spiders and scarabs scurried over the living metal, tending to rust and repairing broken neural connectors, for these metal men still lived, just in undying bodies, cursed to live for eternity. Horatio studied the reports of the scans of the planet, a chill eating at the back of his neck from the lack of life on the barren surface. Not even a plant was found alive, no bacteria, nought but stone and dust reigned supreme on the desolate world. "Have we located this camp yet?" Horatio asked, not even looking away from the screen as the probe flew silently over the landscape. "Not yet, my Liege." Isaac replied flatly. "We have not fully searched half the planet yet." "Double the Thunderhawks doing the sweeps, we need to find it soon." Isaac nodded in response and set about barking orders down to the hanger bays. Presently another Space Marine of important standing strode into the Bridge. Felix Dominus was the Master of the Fourth Chapter, and was more versed in seige and bombardment tactics than even the Praetor himself. Commanding merely five hundred souls, he led the smallest section of the entire Legion, but Horatio knew that they were worth the weight of many times their number. "Any news of whqt we are doing here?" Felix asked flatly, almost knowing the answer before it was given. "No, but we shall follow our orders." Horatio responded just as flatly. Felix turned to the screen Horatio was watching and squinted. "What's that in the top right? Thunderhawk two-oh-two, about turn and focus on the area three hundred feet to the right of your present position." The pilot responded, slowed his craft to almost a near stop, then proceeded to fly down to the given location. Horatio, Felix and now Isaac were staring at the screen intently, it appeared they had found the lost Explorator camp. The pilot was ordered to drop a locator beacon and all Thunderhawks were recalled immediately. Turning to a hailer, Horatio put out a call across the ship for all Senior officers to rendezvous in the Council Chambers. Turning and nodding to the other two Masters, Horatio strode out off the Bridge with Isaac and Felix close behind. The Council Chamber was vast, ominous and to mere men could be considered forbodding. The stone seating around the edge of the great vaulted room was enough to include all the Chapter Masters and senior officers and the Eternals. Light dust fell from the gothic ceiling as the noise of conversation echoed around the hallowed hall. Assembled in the Council Chamber were the numerous Chapter Masters of the Legion, each holding an individual title denoting either a specialisation or a ceremonial rank, but each as deadly as the last, as well as the Eternals. The Eternals were the bodyguards of the Praetor, members of the Legion who had seen death and survived against all odds, and performed extraordinary acts of bravery. These were the best of the best of the Legion, but only a small Cadre of twenty individuals, much unlike the hundreds of Honour Guards of other Legions, with ten for each of the two highest leaders. Walking into the hall, Horatio placed his golden helmet upon the table before him, and turned to the rest of his brothers, looking to all four corners of the room. "We need to agree upon a plan of action," Horatio started. "I believe it is highly unlikely that the reason we are here will not be revealed any time soon, so my suggestion is this. We conduct scans of the rest of the planet and see if we cannot get down to the Explorator Camp, see if there is any indication of what caused their demise." Heads nodded round the table. This was a sensible procedure to follow, and many of them had fought under the Praetor and would follow him in any circumstance. "We will send down ten reconnaissance squads along with a company of sky hunters," the Praetor continued. "Minimising casualties should there be an ambush. We shall reconvene when the troops reach the camp." With that the Praetor took his helmet and strode out of the room closely followed by his Eternals. The other officers also stood, and filed out to their respective jobs, making the necessary preparations.

[thelostiilegion]

Welcome Adept

Here is chronicled the history of the fabled Imperial Templars of the Adeptus Astartes, starting from when they were last seen…