Week 8 Chaos Narrative

[IncubiLord]

The narrative portion of all Chaos battle reports should be posted here until next week's thread is set up.

While you can choose to play the campaign with a more strategic focus than narrative, your report still requires a story (which does matter, so write something). Remember also that narrative is for advancing the story, not giving a dry, blow-by-blow account of your game.

[kaser]

++++Begin Transmission++++
++Protocol 6514-BN++

To: Detachment Captains Slavic and DeVeen
From: Warsmith Kane, Lord of the Black Hand

The final preparations for our operation here have been made my brave champions. However this time is crucial for us, Captain Slavic you must return here to assist with the defenses immediately. Leave all non-vital resources and equipment where they lie, destroy anything of value that you can not bring back. You will assist not only with base defense but also with our withdrawal when the time comes.

Captain DeVeen your effort against the Tyranids have been valiant and worthy of the Black Hand Company. However you too must fallback to our base of operations, you’re to assist with our defense with Captain Slavic. Fall back in an orderly fashion and take up positions at the inner defenses and await further order. Engage any enemies that venture to close but do not go hunting for them.

I am personally overseeing the final stages of this operation with Koriaro; we’ve already had contact with a force of daemon hunters who must have been drawn here by our ritual’s warp signature. This has proved a mixed blessing and we are still working out the results…until I have further orders. Iron Within, Iron Without.

+++End Transmission+++



The Warsmith paced around the altar as he watched the Sorcerer work, it was all nonsense and gibberish to him but Koriaro seemed to know what he was doing. The runes and symbols on the ground, altar and his books were glowing bright blue. The head on his staff glowed as well as he waved it around in seemingly random patterns as he chanted. The Warsmith watched as the chains around their offering began to glow as well, he watched the girl with an unusual curiosity.

Somehow this was to culminate in a new weapon, an Oracle as Koriaro called it. Whatever it was, he had assured him that it would prove a potent weapon and information source.

“Sir!” The Warsmith turned to see a blue flash and several silver armored figures appear. “We have contacts!”

“The False Emperor’s lackeys,” The Warsmith roared and dawned his MK 3 helmet and lifted his hammer into the air. “Kill them all!”

Several squads had already been engaged by Iron Warrior squads but one was of particular interest to the Warsmith. It was a group of the Grey Knights led by one of them in terminator armor. With a grunt he charged into the group and struck one of them in the chest crushing it inward, another was struck on the head almost knocking it off. He had not tasted battle for some weeks but he had lost none of his usual prowess. Soon however he was face to face with the terminator, his halberd glowed with a blue light.

After a series of blows and counter blows, one almost striking the Warsmith in the head, he managed to get the Grey Knight on his back. Without much time to react he jumped onto the Knight’s chest and with a single downward stroke crushed in his helmet with his large hammer.

“My Lord Warsmith,” He heard Koriaro say calmly, he turned to face the voice saw him standing at the edge of glowing altar. “What a wondrous event, Tzeentch surely smiles upon us!”

“And how does he do that Sorcerer?” The Warsmith heaved his hammer over his shoulder and stepped off his kill.

“He weaves fate in such a way as to give us further sacrifices for our endeavor!” The Sorcerer shouted with glee. “Quickly my lord, have the armor and corpses of these pathetic creatures marked with symbols of ritual by my vanguard and placed on the altar grounds. Such a magnificent opportunity can not be lost.”

The Warsmith looked at him for a few moments then nodded; he saw the potential logic of such acts before the Dark Gods. Soon the armor was defaced by the eye burning symbols of Chaos and the corpses within defaced as well. They were hung on the outer rim of the altar as the sorcerer continued his spellcasting.

[thechosenone]

A sickening crunch echoes over the blood slicked streets of the ruined cityscape. A limp dead sister is thrown to the ground, her back broken over the Warsmith’s knee. He stands in the shadow of one of their temples to the corpse god. A stain glass effigy of the false emperor stares down on him for a few quiet seconds. Everything on the field seems silent, time seems to halt for a moment as a powerful shell from the heretical bane blade slams into the temple.

The stain glass window bursts outward as the cathedral is consumed in fire. The shattered image of the emperor falls all around Rutabo.

The sounds of battle return to his ears. Tracking fire thrown at escaping shuttles and thunder hawks as the sisters flee. Rutabo watches the man that has become his enemy over the last three battles dodge the bolter fire from spectral Thousand Sons and evade death at the hands of the Cabal Master Laibach. His name was Inquisitor Corazon, he was unkillable across all these battle fields. Always evading a brutal death that would have given some honor to the cowardly wretch. He boards a Thunder Hawk as it lifts off, leaving his screaming henchmen to die at the hands of the ghost warriors and their enraged Sorcerer Lord.

The gore slicked Goddess Calliope entertains herself with a full twenty battle sisters, each writhing and clawing at their armor, each desperate to escape it. She has claimed them all and all by her own hand.

His Iron Warriors and the forces of the Death Guard sweep the city blocks that lie beneath the over passing mega highway. The cleanse it methodically leaving nothing alive in their steady advance while the half crazed Iron Heart of the Dark Mechanicus swoops over the field blasting foes where the flee and gliding down into ranks of battle sisters to crush them face to face.

Dorian Cicero, now entombed in his dreadnought seeks out the Saint that forced him into this torment. The two clash in a lonely section of the city, the one known as Celestine ambushed by iron warriors and then Cicero, a living Juggernaught, rushes into combat with her as well. With a single swing of his chain fist he has vengeance.

Rutabo knows he lost more men in this effort then any other but the sisters, consumed with zeal like a Berserker craving fresh blood they ignored all the vital position, they killed many but held nothing and in the end lost the city. Their foot hold leveled and their presence here ended.

Everything burns, Rutabo stands in a city of fire a vision of Hell itself. Victory is his now, far from complete without Corazon’s death but he eases that splinter by reminding himself that he only has to live with victory, Corazon has to live with defeat.

(Me and my friend wanted to do something pretty epic to finish up our little mini series of games. It was a three part game that concluded with about 5,000 points aside. we took two tables and butte dthem up into about sixteen feet of table. One part was an open field with some forest, the back table was filled with about twenty city ruins. His goal was to hold the field and stop me from entering the city, mine was to enter the city and take the key positions there. I took the tunnels strategem, redeployment and flank march. He got first turn and man after that it was HUGE! to make a way awesome game that took about seven hours short i moved into the city pretty quickly while and took one of the objectives on the fields section, his commanding Cannoness out there. His inquisitor was an objective along with six in the city. I took four objectives in the city and one outside it. He only had one in the city and none on the fields. It was a really great series of games and a great way to end me and my friend's mini series.)

[kaser]

++++Begin Transmission++++
++Protocol 6514-BN++

To: Detachment Captains and Battlefield Commanders
From: Warsmith Kane, Lord of the Black Hand

Our trials and tribulations are almost to an end dear brother’s of the Black Hand, soon we shall see if all our deeds have reaped the reward we so justly deserve. Our sorcerer Koriaro has almost completed the ritual that he has slaved away at tirelessly for well beyond anything I would require of one of our own. This is not to say that we all have not shown remarkable courage, prowess and cunning in these past weeks. Even now we beat back our foes at every angle.

Captain Slavic has forged forward constantly during this time, never stopping, always continuing the valiant battle with the leadership and battle prowess that would make any Man of Iron proud.

Captain DeVeen has proved time and again that regardless of his age and his newly acquired leadership role he is not to be underestimated. He has traveled this vast planet in search of what his Warsmith requested. Unwavering in loyalty, clear in mental fortitude and skillful in combat, this Man of Iron is to be respected as a Captain within the Black Hand.

I commend these men and our auxiliary commanders who have served diligently throughout these times. To that end I request that Captain Slavic and Captain DeVeen join me at the Grand Altar where the culmination of our plans is to take place.

+++End Transmission+++


Slavic approached the altar where the Warsmith and Koriaro waited, Koriaro was still near the center, chanting and reciting strange spells from his book and mind. The Warsmith stood tall at the edge, his hammer over his shoulder.

“My Lord Warsmith,” Slavic kneeled before him and then rose with a salute. “You honor me with this request.”

“I only give honor to those who deserve it Captain.” He nodded towards the area Slavic had come from. “You both deserve such honor for your actions here.”

DeVeen kneeled and then rose with a salute as Slavic had done just before, the two stood side by side before their Warsmith.

“Come, join me in a pray to the Dark Gods.” The Warsmith grinned at the reactions of both men. Slavic stood unsure for a moment, he was not a devout followed of Chaos but understood a bit of healthy piety, he followed. DeVeen’s heart swelled with pride, he was no cultist but he knew well that the Dark Gods affected more than just the warp, to pray with his Lord was an honor he’d never imagined he’d ever earn.

The three Iron Warriors stepped into the glowing circle, only a few inches from where they had stood before it was noticeably different. The air felt energized and thick, the ground was warm to the touch and there was a peculiar taste floating about. As they neared the center they saw Koriaro standing atop the round piece of stone which was covered in glowing runes. Near him stood a girl wrapped in chains which also glowed, she had marks on her body as well that resembled the ones that skittered across Koriaro’s book.

“My Lord Warsmith,” He hissed as the three stepped onto the altar. “Welcome to our future, please pay homage to the gods here freely. They shall bless us this day, the least we can do is thank them.”

“Indeed,” The Warsmith placed his hammer before him and dropped to one knee resting his forehead against the handle. His two Captains followed suit, Slavic drew one of his swords and DeVeen swung his halberd out and followed the same motions. The two waited patiently for their Lord to lead the prayer and after mumbling a few words he spoke up.

“Oh Dark Gods of Chaos, we thank you for the opportunities you have given us on this planet and past battles. We submit ourselves before you as warriors eager to tear the False Emperor from his throne in your name. Khorne, Lord of Blood and Slaughter, we have spilt the blood of many men here in your favor. Nurgle, Lord of Decay, have we not earned your favor from previous events? We hang the dead in the air and let them rot for all to see and to be feasted on. Slaanesh, Prince of Pleasure, have the honeyed words of our sorcerer not reached your ears? Is there no pleasure gained threw pain in our dungeons and labor camps? Tzeentch, Lord of Change, has our manipulation of events and the following of your whispers not earned us your favor? Dark Gods of Chaos, I am Warsmith Viktor Kane and I kneel hear as both champion and respectful admirer of Chaos in all it’s glory.”

The two Captains kneeled in awe of what they’d just heard; they looked to their Warsmith and saw him mumble a few more words before rising. Koriaro had his head held back and his arms out the whole time.

“The Dark Gods hear you my lord,” He hissed blissfully. “They hear your words!”

“Then may they act on them accordingly.” The Warsmith looked to the girl. “If they favor us then they’ll grant us our one desire here.”

“Yessss,” Koriaro hissed. “The spells are complete, the ritual almost finished. I will now attempt the binding.”

The Warsmith and his Captains stepped back off the altar and watched as Koriaro began reciting a spell, he held his staff up high as the head glowed brightly.

“Let this signal help guide you oh great Oracle so that you may claim and new home!” he proclaimed with a shout.