Chapter 3 Kick-off Team Game

Link back to Campaign Page

3000 pt/side Armageddon sized Stalingrad battle, with 3 Incursion Imperium Armies and 2 Strike Force Revolutionary Armies
Each Imperium faction gets 1000 pts and 6 CP, and begins with one third of the long-wide style Dawn of War deployment zone and control of an objective that they must place anywhere on their one Hive City Ruined Block Corner Ruins Terrain Piece, which they must also place anywhere within, but not necessarily wholly within, their deployment zone

Slaanesh and Tyranid Factions get 1500 pts (and start with 9 CP each rather than the usual 12 for strike forces, so that both alliances collectively start with 18 CP), same rules as Imperium for objective and big terrain piece, but their deployment zones and placement options are each limited to their half of their side of the Board's Dawn of War zone

First Imperium places all their terrain, then Revolutionaries place all their terrain, then Imperium deploys all, then Revolutionaries deploy all, then Imperium takes first turn

Whichever Faction controls the most objectives at the end of 5 turns wins a major victory and a sort of advantage in the Hive Power Balance and Narrative. If there is a tie at the end of round five, then in narrative terms victory is split, whether between multiple players from the same alliance, or players from each alliance.

All factions on the alliance side of the winning player win a minor victory, and the next part of the narrative will go well and easier for them.

All factions on the losing side (the side without the player controlling the most objectives at the end ) are gonna have a bad time but press on narratively in the face of adversity and perhaps even find new strength

Both alliances fight as one army for purposes of phases, and defining friendly v enemy units

A sixth objective goes at the exact center of the table, on the highest possible floor if there's terrain there.

Each Revolutionary player may place an additional one of the short LOS-blocking Ruin Wall Piece, and the revolutionary players collaboratively choose where to place the 6th large city block terrain piece, at least partly within their own deployment zone.

All five Players get to place one piece of my scatter terrain (all counting as Crater toe-in-cover pieces) and up to two pieces of terrain of their own that they want to bring and that we collectively agree will fit on the board. But I think we don't want it too crazy dense, as I think we all want to bring bigger models that need passable movement lanes

No Special Rules, just narrative 9th ed


But at the same time, we want to move quickly and finish in a reasonable time, and I worry that I and possibly most of us will forget to use complicated extra rules,

So I'm happy to just play a big 9th edition rules team game with no custom extra scenario rules, except as described above, for simplicity and speed. Opinions or other Ideas?

Narrative Consequences of Victory
If the winning player is Imperium, then their Special Character wins the "Whose Mandate in the Name of the Emperor" is longer and more engorged competition when All of them Whip Theirs Out in the Hive Throne Room Narrative conversation about who's really in change here that happens before the battle, but we write the story of what happened and how it all went by what happens during the team game kickoff battle!

Narratively speaking, Inquisitors tend to have the Largest and Most Commanding Mandates, but if superhuman Astartes captain Newland Reeves comes up with a great coordinating plan of attack at the war council, that follows the barely-nonviolent confrontation in the Throne Room of the Hive, which begins with everyone else agreeing that the Corrupt Governor and his Castellan are most definitely NOT in charge, and then leads his angels of death and Imperium Allies to Victory by carrying that plan, he might end up looking like the Narrative Leader of the Imperium Alliance!

I challenge everyone to write any amount of lore about anything during the chapter 2 time frame, but particularly focusing on what goes down during the throne room showdown, what happens at the war council afterward, and what might happen at the battle.

History and the final narrative of this part of the story will be written by the Victors, both in the battle itself, and influenced by whoever writes the best Lore, in terms of idea quality and narrative fun, not #words.

If the winning player is Revolutionary, then their Faction and Special Character wins the "Loyalty of the Unwashed Masses of Common Imperium Citizens of the Hive". If the winning player is NOT Tyranid, then the Tyranid faction retains that "transferable narrative trophy"

Annihilation of the Self
Alia collapsed under a hail of radium gun rounds. Her cyborg body systems began to shut down one by one as the intense radioactive ammunition compromised her cybernetic system. The warning flash in her optics told her what she already knew. She was dying. Alia reached for her sniper rifle but her bionic limbs seized up. She lay frozen on the ground listening to the battle around her: The Skitarii methodically taking her army apart. The water treatment facility was a steel ringed trap that closed on her Bladed Cog acolytes. The iron boot of Forgeworld Caldus had broken the army of vengeance Alia had forged. Her life support began to shut down, breathing became labored, vision blurred. Then darkness. In that darkness, something stirred.

Alia felt a sensation of floating, completely weightless and aware. A wave of feelings washed over her. One of warmth and a euphoric feeling of belonging one to all for she was not alone. Countless in their number like the stars in the universe they shone in the darkness. Black, hard edged chitin undulated around her. It was warm as it rose up to her, embracing her as one of their kindred beyond the scope of what is known. Alia and they were at oneness. Together one mind. As this revelation dawned on her, she witnessed a maw of light open and a tendril lashed out striking her in the forehead. Alia screamed, not from the pain of the lash but the terrible all consuming hunger it instilled within her. The price of being part of the synaptic web. All must be the will of the Hive Mind, to consume. The infinite all consuming need, she vowed to feed them civilization itself to quell the hunger!! Alia would be a huntress of worlds and they will show her the wonders of the galaxy as it slowly grows quiet. She floated toward the maw of light and it consumed her just as she absorbed it. Then a pain erupted from her head. This time when Alia screamed the pain was real.

Alia found herself floating again, this time in a large cylindrical tank. Fill with greenish fluid. Various tubes and wires ran from her body. A rebreather was strapped to her face. Clear sections shone what was outside the tank. A sort of cavern laboratory. Several Biophages doctors worked at a console. She feebly pounded on the glass to no avail. Instinctively she called the hives psychic energy and smote it with her mind. The glass exploded outward sending her crashing to the floor in a shower of embryonic fluid. The startled doctors began to rush over, some filling hyper dermis needles. Alia rose from the tank fluid and broken glass. Blood ran down her arms and legs. Before the doc could reach out to inject her, she reach out with her mind. A mental onslaught began as she tore at the Biophages’ mind. His head twisted in agony as he dropped dead, halting the others in their tracks.

Alia left the laboratory thru an auto door unimpeded. She exited into a large mining tunnel, chemlamps lighting the sides. Around the corner she hears the sound of crashing then a primeval growl. Compelled she moved further, removing the rebreather mask and tubes. The tunnel opened to a vehicle hanger. Inside were serval Goliath class vehicles as well as damaged imperial vehicles for utilizing spare parts. Several mechanics worked on them. To the other side lay the source of the commotion. Several large sector transport containers lay and two hybrids in sentionaut exo suits were being throw around by a great blue plated carnifex. Even with its limbs chained it manages to knock them to the ground and roars a challenge snorting steam. Alia began walking toward it, surprised how she felt sure and safe to do so. As she approached it turned and faced her, cocking its head with its good eye facing her. It snorted again began raising its arms, snapping a chain. It began to move toward her, another chain broke and the creature roared. Alia held out a hand and touched the beast’s nose. It relaxed its battle stance and bowed down, making a low mewling sound. It ochre tongue licked her hand. She saw that the containers were meant for these creatures. Three already were in cryoslumber inside. She bid the one eyed carnifex inside his. It reluctantly obeyed and she closed the hatch engaging the cryo freeze. The creature focused its baleful eye on her before closing it to hibernation. Alia turned to see all the neophytes and hybrids in the hanger gathered around her. They whispered “Norn Mother” before bending the knee. Again on instinct she walked out among then, touching their shoulders as she went. Dripping in blood and embryonic fluid in her wake. At the end of the crowd a diminutive figure greeted her. It looked like a genestealer in every way except for its toddler like size. It bowed and greeted her with a shrill high pitch squeak.

“I take you to the Brood Throne,  there your father awaits”. It bid her come and she followed it out the hanger.

It led her a service elevator. With surprising strength it closed the grate and down they went into the earth. It stopped after several floors. Opening to a large natural cavern. It was humid here, caused Alia to sweat. The ground was covered by an ankle deep fog that began to engulf the elevator car. Across the large cave was the only source of light, dozens of vid screens embedded in the walls. Their screens occasionally switched to a different scene. Alia walked closer, she saw the high cavern ceiling had strange fossil like growths. She soon realized these were purestrains clinging to the ceiling seemingly in hybernation. The familiar lead her to a tall basalt dark stone structure. On top is a skull with a helmet of chitin. A much exaggerated version of her own forehead ridge. For alien arm extend below the skull. A scything talon at their end. A machine hum begins and the structure swivels reveling itself to be a throne. Crouched upon its purple velvet cushion is the Progenitor, patriarch leader of the Xtrovoid Cult. “You may call me Father”, its voice was a mix of a whisper and a scream. Over joyed, Alia began to weep.

“There are things, much older than...time, and they blessed me”

The Progenitor Special Character:

Divine Protection +1 invul.

Heirloom 6’s to hit scores 2 hits.

Psychic Might cast extra power.

Foresight reroll one hit, wound, or save once per game.

Alia was dressed and given a force staff befitting her new station as Magus. The Progenitor pointed to one of the vid screens, this one depicting obscenely clad warriors and cultists fighting against yellow clad Astartes. “Ally and enemy. It makes not matter. All we must do is keep them fighting till the bitter end.” It hisssed.

“The Elder Dread is here”

Scydriel, Castellan and Facilitatrix to the Governor of Primus Hive
She's been in deep cover on Astheneia for almost 4 years now, and has been in disguise as the Facilitatrix of the Governor's Harem for the most recent 3 of those years, primarily in position in case her superiors want her to kill and replace the Corrupt Governor. Facilitatrix is a sort of catch-all Harem leadership role, acting as his Madam, Pimp, Drug Dealer, Fixer, Talent Manager, and Porn/Stage Director. The Callidus Assassin killed and replace the actual Facilitatrix of the Harem only a few weeks after the real facilitatrix joined the Governor's household, and a few months after that, the Callidus "revealed" to the Corrupt Governor that she has many other useful skills and talents, and could of much more use to him outside of the Harem as well.

So she became his Castellan, which in the local culture is sort of like his Chief of Security, combined with Consigliere, and household advisor. There is nobody in the world that the Corrupt Governor trusts more than his Castellan Facilitatrix, not even his old friend the retired Rogue Trader. Too bad she's just waiting around the betray, kill, and replace him.
 * The Callidus Assassin uses normal rules and pts, and has the following 4 chosen perks from pgs 14-15 of Chapter Approved 2018 (I resisted giving her Indomitable, as there's a bunch of choices that make more narrative sense):
 * Divine Protection: improving her Invulnerable save from 4+ to 3+
 * Her Phase Sword is an Artificier Weapon, improving it's damage from 2 to 3
 * She is Stealthy: Subtract 1 from attacks made with Ranged Weapons that target this model
 * She can Strike and Fade: After this model fights in the Fight Phase, it can immediately Pile In 3" +1d3" in ANY DIRECTION, not just towards the closest enemy model

Consigliere to the Corrupt Governor prepares him for the audience with the two Inquisitors, some canoness who apparently leads an order of her own name!, the Astartes Captain, and the ArchMagos

Scydriel sweetly suggested, "I really think you should wear the Power Fist. They will all be armed and armored, and you don't want to look weak.  This is your Hive, and they are your guests coming to answer YOUR call for aid."

The Corrupt Governor complained back, "But it's so heavy! And my bolter should be on the other arm of the throne I suppose?"

"Yes, you can rest both on the arms of your throne, to be comfortable and relaxed.  But you must look like more than a frail mortal man.  Remember that you could kill them if you chose, and must look the part."

"I might kill one of them if I struck first, but surely I would be slain if this audience comes to blows?"

"Yes, you are right my lord. You must ultimately defer to them, and avoid violence.  If they demand you spend your remaining forces on their attack plan, find a way to evade answering and redirect the conversation."

"Yes, this will be their attack. If they will not bend the knee to me, I shall not serve under them either.  I'll offer them my loyalty but make no specific promises."

"Good idea, lord. You must get them working against each other, competing for your loyalty!  If one of them offers you concessions or a solid promise of autonomy and command, act grateful and relieved...but do not accept or agree too quickly!  You may be able to get one of the others to offer better terms and concessions in competition for your support of their goals."

"The Arch Magos and I have ruled this world most profitably together for many years, and I imagine I may count on his support. What should I do if one of the inquisitors threatens to remove us from power?"

"Yes, rely on the Arch Magos: Emphasize your contribution to fighting against the revolution, and how the two of you have valiantly held out against the siege until aid arrived! Your men have died alongside his and spilled their blood to afford these Master of the Imperium time to arrive and strike back.  You have been only ever a faithful servant of the Emperor and Imperium, willing to risk your own life alongside your men on the front lines!"

"Thank you my pet, now please, come and stand by me at the audience, and don't leave me, even if they ask."

"Of course, lord: I am your bodyguard and advisor and cannot leave your side under any circumstances.  They will respect that as they are in your throne room, and I share command of your forces."

***

At Scydriel's insistence, they began setting up the throne room hours before the appointed time of the audience. She insisted that everything be perfect, reminded him that this would be one of their hardest tests, and that a wrong move or word with the inquisitors could seem him removed from power or even killed on the spot.

All was perfectly set in the throne room long before the other leaders arrived, and when the Corrupt Governor began to get bored and antsy waiting, Scydriel summoned two of his favorite and youngest girls from the harem, to pleasure and distract him while they waited, and to make him feel like the powerful man that she hoped he could act as, if her plans and machinations were to succeed.

She knew it was entirely possible, even likely, that one or both of the inquisitors knew that she was a Callidus Assassin, emplaced under long term deep cover, but Scydriel expected neither of them would be in a hurry to reveal that secret to the others unless she forced their hands, which she was determined not to do. If only the maddeningly immature Governor could be trusted on to play his part right...

Captain Newland Reeves
Traits

Duelist: +1 Strength and Attack while within 1 " of an enemy Character

Enhanced Physiology: +1 Toughness

Finely Balanced: +1 Attack with Master-crafted Power Sword

Ferocious Combatant: +1 Attack

Arrival

Upon the arrival of the 5th Company, Captain Newland made contact with Canoness Mystranda of the Adepta Sororitas, who had recently arrived in system and High Magos Kappic-Schoelendt Malavont of Forgeworld Caldus, commander of the Adeptus Mechanicus forces in the system.

Captain Newland met with his contemporaries from the Adeptus Mechanicus and Adeptas Sororitas. Flanked by his Company Chaplain, Lorccán Aita and standing in for Epistolary Ossain was Codicier Attalan. Epistolary Ossain’s Dreadnaught body; while likely would have been welcomed by the representatives of Forgeworld Caldus, was far too large for the Hive’s Throne Room.

Newland removed his helmet and placed it on the table before him. His hair was up in a dread hawk. His ebony complexion was a stark contrast with the bright yellow of his armor. Glancing around at the others in the Throne Room. Newland looked down at the chair that was given to him, it would be better if he remained standing because that chair even though it was finely made; he had a sneaking suspicion that it would not hold his weight.

Newland surveyed those assembled. Sitting in a throne that seemed too large for him was the Lord Governor of Astheneia Prime beside him was his Castellan. Newland could see that this woman carried herself with discipline. Perhaps is was just due to his experiences in his life of war or a gift from his gene-father Sanguinius, but he sensed the nature of a cold-hearted killer from this woman.

Newland was surprised to see not one but two Inquisition Ordos represented at the table, Inquisitor Coteaz Torquemada of the Ordo [REDACTED] and Inquisitor Saskia d'Ardens of the Ordo Mechanicum. Accompanying Lord Inquisitor Coteaz was the Canoness Mystranda of the Martyred Maidens of Mystranda. Newland wasnt sure if the Order was named after her; which would be a great honor, or if the name Mystranda replaced their previous names when these Sororitas took command.

Even with the Lord Inquisitors present, it was difficult not to be commanding with all those present. Captain Newland had a truly commanding presence, he was quite literally the most imposing person in the room. Towering over everyone save for his fellow Astartes and the High Magos, the bulk of his Mark X Gravis armor added more to his presence. But it was his duelist grace, evident even in his armor that gave him the air of some predatory beast from the wilderness Old Terra. Newland saw a kindred spirit in the Canoness Mystranda, that selfsame discipline and poise of a duelist.

He paused just before speaking, he knew what reputation his Chapter had with other organizations within the Imperium and he knew that this was an ideal moment to battle against that reputation. Therefore, to that end, Captain Newland made sure not to overstep the others but made sure that the others respected his Chapter.

"Greetings, I am Newland Reeves, Captain of the Lamenter's Fifth Company and Master of the Marches. During warp translation our Strike Cruiser, The Daughter of Tides, was attacked by Heretic Astartes of the Crusade of Endless Joy. We repelled the traitors, but as a result we were delayed. I believe that the conflict here will only escalate. Codicier Attalan, please explain the Librarius' views on this situation."

Codicier Attalan stepped forward, he wore the lighter and more maneuverable Phobos armor, over which was a heavy camo cloak. Around his head the blue psychic hood of the Librarius crackled slightly.

"Thank you Captain," addressing the rest of the room, "The Venerable Epistolary Ossain and I believe that the presence of the traitor Astartes we encountered in warp transit was not a coincidence. The Psychic disturbance we detected from this System undoubtedly will have attracted others." Attalan stepped back.

"It is for this reason, that I believe that the Xeno threat already present and active in the system needs to be dealt with immediately. We cannot allow a Genestealer Cult to survive, they will only undermine the rest of the war effort and the defense of this system from future threats."

The Long Thirsty Climb
Sure of victory, the mob of ecstatic Slaanesh cultists marched and fought their way into the hive

They carried three canteens each, as they had heard that water no longer flowed from pipes in the lower hive

Power in the hive was intermittent, so they took a few long elevator rides, but mostly they marched, and sang

Barely sleeping, but they felt no need to be on their guard. They trusted the beautiful sleepless neverborn angels that marched and scouted around them to keep watch

The daemonettes could see with their warpsight, and jumped from rooftops and clung to walls and ceilings,     Passing through walls when convenient, and projecting a warp vibe of peaceful passage, as had been agreed between the Genestealer Progenitor and the Exalted Keeper of Secrets.

Rivals for all of their mortal lives, the two cults fought as the Slaanesh Daemons brought the Artifact into the Hive, but then declared a truce when it seemed like maybe the GSC had the Imperium forces in full retreat

Their slights and rivalry would be momentarily put aside, for the greater and more glorious shared purpose of finally burning out the Imperium Oppressors who had been hunting All types of Cultists on this world for aeons. Not once were they attacked by any other cultists on their long thirsty climb, after the truce was declared. Their way had been made clear for them by the GSC who were not long ago their deadly rivals. The Slaanesh daemon leadership speculated that the Progenitor might betray them during or immediately after the battle which all could both see forming in the future through their mindseyes, but it appeared both cults loved the idea of running the war all the way up into the fucking throne room in the spire!, too much to fuck it up by violating the truce.

The march took many days after the long endless climb started, and they drank sparingly and refilled their canteens as they went from pools of dirty water that had collected in depressions everywhere, as if a great flood had washed through some week or so earlier, and the spilled waters were now all evaporating throughout the lower levels. The life support and air circulation was running at minimal levels if at all in the sectors they passed through, due to the war and destruction of power transmission infrastructure, and the two sides trying to kill the other by denial siege warfare

So at first it was horrible and humid and moldy everywhere, from all the contaminated water that had flowed down through the middle and lower levels of the hive, now evaporating. As the tiring cultists and tireless daemons climbed up into the mechanicus levels, there were no more pools of variably contaminated spilled cistern water, and they could no longer refill their canteens.

They saw horrible things on the sides of the passageways, mostly dead imperium. The  had cleared their own dead, for reasons at which the thirsty Slaanesh cultists could only speculate. They looked for canteens or other water sources along the way, but there were none, for it had all been scavenged and destroyed.

As Zhey watched the soft mortal cultists physically weaken from the reduced water rations, and the ceaseless marching climb, zhey wondered if maybe the GSC had intentionally cleared their path of all water resources, so that they would arrive at the top all thirsty and dying...

The herald sisters told the cultist mob to start more carefully rationing their water, which was uncomfortable at first for all the mortals. The mortal cultists had begun to hate the weight and burden of their autoguns and three clips of armor piercing assault rounds that each of them carried. But their problems faded away after the sorcerous sisters started regularly singing the Blessing Songs along with the cultists, and sharing and taking lead roles in the Violent Debaucherous Acts of Worship of Slaanesh along with the marching mob.

The Blessings of Slaanesh made their weapons light, and easy to carry! And they felt none of the pain from their wounds, or their sore feet, or their exhaustion!

They were filled with an energizing and powerful love! They knew that their recently slain siblings and partners had become One with Slaanesh, but at the same time it felt like the victorious dead were marching alongside them now, to victory together! It felt like a surreal carnival atmosphere, in which death had ceased to matter, and only the love and the joy mattered, and spreading the Love and Glad Tidings of Slaanesh!

Now under the sister's spell, the cultists marched and climbed ever upwards as tirelessly as the restless and warpsighted daemonette scouts. Their canteens ran dry, and their thirsts grew powerful. Up this high, the air had become very dry. The moist air flowing that had made the lower levels humid and moldy was long gone, having dissipated almost a thousand feet below them, where it flowed up out of the lower hive and spread out upon reaching the great void and open airspace below the floor of the mechanicus levels.

The sorcerous herald sisters who led the march of the dancing cultist mob up through the hive levels told the mortal mob that the singing and the fucking would no longer be enough, and that a second spell of Slaanesh would be required for the long march to continue.

So now each of the cultists had to share a long deep kiss to receive the saliva from a daemonette every few hours. The warp saliva did not actually stave off their dehydration, as it contained no water. Creating water from nothing, or from blood, or directly from warp energy, would have been a much more taxing magical spell than inducing the simple illusion of hiding the thirst that the cultists' mortal bodies suffered, from their already-magically-manipulated minds.

So the cultists were all dying when the cultist mob finally arrived at wherever they had apparently been marching to. They spread out and took up defensive positions in the ruins, at the edge of the no-man's-land across from the latest Imperium line of defense. The daemonette scouts had told the sorcerous herald sisters, who were possessing the cultist children's bodies, where to deploy the cultists. There were by now many more daemons than mortal cultists in the Slaanesh forces, and the few mortal cultists that remained were already dying of advanced dehydration, from the fast dancing climb up many many thousands of feet of Hive City.

But the cultists didn't feel like they were dying, and were blissfully ignorant of the fact... They felt great! and excited to finally shoot all these once-heavy bullets that they had carried so long and so high without firing.

Surrounded by beautiful Slaanesh Daemons, fighting together alongside their old rivals the GSC, and about to launch a spoiling attack upon the foolish and doomed servants of the tyrant and Corpse Emperor....Today would be a great day to die for Slaanesh!

Private Jenkins keeps track of Who is in Charge
Private Jenkins was an honest guardsman from the Skaro-Mueller system, in the 411th Skaro light infantry Battalion. Until just recently he had always carried a lasgun, like all the other conscripts in his battalion. They'd been raised as part of the yearly tithe levy to the Imperuium 6 years earlier, most of which had been spent in training and transit. Jenkins had just begun to imagine that he might live to see the end of his 20 year enlistment term, shipped back to his home world, and be rewarded with a plush life recruiting other young men and women from his hometown, trying to convince them to volunteer for better benefits and training, and not to just allow themselves to be selected in one of the yearly levies, as he had been.

He had imagined he might live to see the end of his 20 year contract, because he seemed to be unusually lucky. After talking with a commissar about these troubling thoughts, as was his right duty as a servant of the Emperor, he had come to believe that maybe it truly was the Emperor's Love and Blessing that protected him, like all those priests had always claimed. The galaxy looked too horrible to Private Jenkins for him to really deeply and fully believe that the Emperor's Protection saved the righteous, and those who prayed to the Emperor and attended services. He knew too many righteous seeming people who had died, and in these last few years, the seemed to be bad news, calls for reinforcements that would never come, and unconvincing propaganda from the Imperium

But the coincidences and miraculous escapes that had kept him alive, when almost every else he knew in the world were all dead seemed too extraordinary and nonsensical. The commissar and the medicus told Jenkins that he was one of only 3 survivors of his battalion now, andthat the other two were still recuperating in the mechanicus hospital, likely to eventually recover from grievous wounds.

He wondered if one day he too would wear cybernetics, as one of the other survivors of his battalion was apparently going to do. The Emperor's Love and Influence seemed suspicious and Capricious to Jenkins. Men he was sure were more righteous than himself, now including the Commissar who had given him the idea that the Emperor's Love was protecting him because he was a good soldier and guardsman, had been killed during the long retreats of the recent revolution. Jenkins knew that the Commissar had regularly said his prayers, and made confessions to the Emperor's representatives in his life, but it hadn't protected him. So why would it be protecting Jenkins as it now undeniably seemed to be doing?

First in Charge was Sgt Toulouse, who had led Private Jenkins' squad since they were all drafted and trained together in the mechanicus space stations. Sgt Toulouse didn't seem particularly righteous to Jenkins, but Toulouse had usually treated him fairly, and did pray occasionally. Toulouse had been killed during the first long volley of autogun  bullets, which cut down most of his squad while they had been standing garrison duty at the Armory. At first he attack on the armory took his unit completely by surprise, and then he could hear the men in the other squads of his company being killed in the adjacent secure lockers and hangars.

Then suddenly it was his squad's turn...Jenkins, and the men of his squad, and sgt Toulouse were all listening, and straining in tension, aiming with guns up, thinking they were watching and covering all approaches to the fenced secure locker entrance that they held, and imagining that they'd shoot any cultists who showed themselves around the corner first.

But somehow the GSC cultists were just suddenly there! Jenkins wondered if maybe they had been invisible when they approached, or maybe his mind had been clouded and slowed by those psychic powers his friend the commissar was always telling him the enemy would try to use on him?

Toulouse caught one of the slugs right in his throat, and his voice was cut off while ordering his men to open fire. The sergeant then took several minutes to die, while choking and coughing on his own throat blood as it filled his lungs. Sgt Toulouse was a strong and determined man, and as he died he was able to cough and hack up a truly surprising amount of blood onto the concrete floor of the armory. During Toulouse's long bloody choking fit, the rest of his squad quickly went down too, most of them to the first shot that hit them, but Jenkins was pleased to notice that a few hits were actually blocked by their flak vests, which he'd always been assured would save him and his fellow conscripted guardsmen.

Jenkins figured that at this point, Company Commander Jarls and their Battalion Colonel FitzGibbons were probably in charge. Jenkins wasn't sure why he wasn't dead, since all of his squad mates were. A voice is his head said, "Run!"

He thought maybe it was the Colonel, or his friend the Commissar, but the voice sounded very distant and far away. He thought about dropping his lasgun, but he didn't think the voice would like that at all, so Jenkins hugged his lasgun tight to his chest, turned around, and ran!

Later they would find him far away from the front lines, rocking back and forth, with one hand on top of his head, holding down his helmet, and the other holding his lasgun tight to his chest. Jenkins later explained to the Commissar how the mechanicus medicus had told him that he had been in a "Fugue State", and how everyone else in his squad had been killed, and that there were only a few other survivors from whole his company. None of the Officers were apparently among the survivors of his battlalion: apparently all of them having been slain within moments of the start of the battle by sniper fire, or by the gunslingers who would pop around corners or out of hiding faster than the guardsmen could see, and gun down whole units. These many-armed gunslingers always seemed to lead their GSC cultist brethen, and during the initial phase of the War, they seemed unstoppable to Jenkins.

His Friend the Commissar told him that Private Jenkins had been assigned to the commissar's personal service, and that Jenkins would act as his bearer and bodyguard for the duration of the campaign. Jenkins knew this meant he wouldn't just be sent back to die on the front lines like the other conscripts, and this was when he began to feel lucky, and like it was all too suspicious. Maybe he was already dead? Everyone else was, except the Commissar.

The next few weeks passed in a disturbing blur, but Jenkins felt weirdly calm and surreal about it all, as the Revolution grew and killed nearly all the other survivors of the Astra Militarum and Planetary Defense Forces. Private Jenkins accompanied the Commissar at all times, who had been assigned to supervise and inspire the 874th Conscript PDF Regiment: men drafted from the common people of the Primus Hive where the War quickly focused.

Jenkins heard messengers and officers tell the Commissar about whole formations of Imperium men being slain and captured, within and in the areas all around the Hive. Pretty soon the Astra Militarum General Picton (who Jenkins had heard was leading all the AM and PDF forces in the Hive), was slain while attempting to hold a line in the Mechanicus levels that they were retreating up through,. General Picton had been nominally in charge of All the regiments of AM forces fighting in the hive. These AM forces had been gathered from all throughout Astheneia and it's the neighboring systems, ultimately serving the Governor of the Hive and World, and the ArchMagos who oversaw the seat of the whole Astheneia System and Imperium Forces serving in the system.

So in some sense, maybe the ArchMagos or the Governor were in Charge now? Locally it was still his Friend the Commissar, who commanded everything about in Jenkins' immediate daily world. After Picton, some new General Zhang would apparently be leading all the non-mechanicus forces in the Hive defense. Jenkins had never before heard of General Zhang, but he figured this didn't mean anything since almost everyone he had heard of before was dead now.

Zhang led the second battlegroup to which the Commissar was assigned, after virtually everyone from Jenkins pre-revolution life was dead, except the two of them. The Commissar told Jenkins to keep doing whatever he was doing: the Emperor's luck seemed to be keeping them alive, and it was allowing the Commissar to be at least more successful than most other Imperium leaders at conducting coherent retreats.

Jenkins assured the Commissar that he looked forward to jumping and throwing his body in front of the Commissar, to intercept some bullet or missile that threatened them. His friend clapped his hand on Jenkins' back and smiled, and said he knew Jenkins would!

"Private Jenkins, you just keep praying and thinking those worthy thoughts, and the two of us will stay in the warm and safe embrace of the Emperor's Love! We're gonna hold out into the Adeptus Astartes arrive!  You and I are going to save this Hive in the name of the Emperor, and we'll be promoted and live the rich life after the Emperor is victorious!  Neither the Emperor nor I will ever forget your loyalty!"

Jenkins said nothing, but looked forward to both dying to save the Commissar, and now to the previously never-before imagined hope of surviving his imperial guardsman duty, and actually having a future where me might get to return to his own world.

Eventually the Commissar was slain too though.

Another of those gunslingers, who seemed to move impossibly fast, had blasted him apart. Jenkins had just begun to yell a warning, and he thought the Commissar MUST have also seen the Kellermorph gunslinger emerge, but the Commissar appeared frozen, or paralyzed....  The Commissar's refractor field flickered rapidly, like it did sometimes when they took fire...but then the commissar had exploded in a red spray that covered Jenkin's face and hands and lasgun!

The Voice in his head again said "Run!"

This time Jenkins was sure it sounded like his Friend the Commissar, who was spread all over the room, and whose throat Jenkins was sure was no longer connected to his lungs...

So Jenkins ran, unsure again of why he was still alive. This time he remained fully conscious, and felt intentional about his choice to just keep running, like the voice had told him to....until suddenly he wasn't afraid anymore....so he stopped....

Corporal Jenkins now (having been promoted not long after being assigned as bodyguard to the commissar, but not feeling any more authority in bossing anyone around) found himself surrounded by armored vehicles: all chimeras, some with high velocity anti-air cannons mounted on their Chimera hulls.

After running away that day, in Jenkins' immediate daily life the Ministorum Priest from the Jungle DeathWorld was the boss of Jenkins immediate world.

But the Ministorum Priest also served the Feudal Lord, who was the Imperium Governor and Hereditary King of the Jungle World in the Asetheia system, and whom the Hive Governor had called upon to fulfill his Feudal oath and service. The Jungle King led all the various forces gathered from the periphery worlds of the Astheneia System, and ultimately served the Governor and the ArchMagos.

The special Battalion from the Jungle World always moved around inside hermetically sealed armored vehicles, usually parking some distance behind, and supporting a defensive line with their artillery and anti-tank fire, until the defensive line of Imperium forces inevitably disintegrated and began to retreat, as they eventually always did.

But the Forces from the Periphery hung together, and generally took pretty light casualties during these retreats. It helped that the Jungle King's Own Battalion were primarily an armored artillery and jungle-fighting mechanized infantry formation...so when things went bad, they were were mostly already inside safe armored vehicles, and always some distance back from the front line they'd been supporting, where nearly everyone died.

Jenkins saw more horrible things as he served the Ministorum Priest and the Jungle King, during their slow grinding retreat up towards the spire...through the higher mechanicus levels, with more and more of the elite mechanicus and skitarii forces being consumed, after they ran out of militarum and pdf units to place on the front lines. Suddenly whole companies would be incinerated by hand flamers at close range, or a wall would collapse and many-clawed monsters would burst through and tear everyone into bleeding and screaming chunks, so fast that everything around them seemed to be moving in slow motion.

Some of the King's Chimeras were destroyed by thrown explosives, and another torn apart by giant saws and drills, carried by the Mutant Heretics and Cultists! But Corporal Jenkins figured his luck might hold, as he was now serving the Jungle Ministorum Priest, as he had once served the Commissar.

One day after a hurried retreat Jenkins and Father Barbatios, the Jungle Ministorum Priest who he now guarded and served, watched the King's Own Chimeras unloading at the mechanicus medicus station. During the retreat, the jungle fighters had disembarked for a double rank lasgun volley and then immediate bayonet grenade charge charge into some disordered cult brothers. They inflicted grievous casualties on the GSC forces who had been pursuing and ambushing the retreating Imperium Column, and temporarily regained the control of the battlefield long enough to embark back into the King's Own Chimeras, and disentangle the last of the retreating imperium column from their ambushers and pursuers. But of course there had been casualties during the brief infantry action, and Corporal Sharpwood had died during the bumpy chimera ride back to the mechanicus medicus station.

The bodies and parts had been promised to the Mechanicus, who were eager for the high quality junglefighter meat for new servitors, but the Jungle Ministorum Priest walked over to the unloaded junglefighter casualties. He said a prayer over Corporal Sharpwood, and then to Jenkins' surprise, the wild haired priest also said a prayer over the meltagun, still held tight in sharpwood's dead right hand.

Barbatios the old wild haired Ministorum Priest lovingly kissed Sharpwood's head, and easily picked up the heavy meltagun. Barbatios carried it back across the street, and told Jenkins that the Emperor had told him that He wanted Corporal Jenkins to carry this meltagun now. The Emperor had told Father Barbatios that this meltagun has already melted several jungle monsters, and several genestealer cult vehicles, and that it's Machine Spirit says it is pleased and excited to join Jenkins' and Barbatios' blessed holy service to the Emperor!

Everything was coming up Jenkins! Hope bloomed in Jenkins' heart about having a future and a life! The meltagun was heavy, and he had yet to actually fire it in anger, but just having it made him feel like he could tackle anything that came along to threaten Father Barbatios.

*

Eventually that glorious day his dead Friend the Commissar had told him about finally came: The Astartes Killer Angels of the Emperor's Wrath and Salvation had arrived! Jenkins heard the Retired Rogue Trader say to the Jungle King that there was something unusual or unlucky about these particular Astartes, but he thought they looked invincible in their bright yellow power armor, towering over all the mortal men around them! Maybe he really would live to see the end of the war and his term of service!

Victory seemed possible now, after there being so little hope of victory for so long...and when the Periphery Battlegroup was again pulled back from the front line, to rest and refit, now that the Emperor's Finest had arrived from across the stars to take over on the front lines, Jenkins again imagined that maybe his part in the war was done, and that the Lamenters would save them from the cultists who had chased them up the Hive, nearly to the spire now...

Many Powerful Psykers Scrying into Possible Futures
Zhe Exalted Keeper of Secrets, who I'm still not ready to name, dreams and imagines things that are, and things that might come to pass, looking deep into flowing currents of the Warp

The Genestealer Progenitor and Zher share zheir visions of possible futures and dangers with each other, imagining and shaping visions of how it might have gone or will go, and coordinate their actions towards the greatest regions of success and good outcomes, which they glimpse through the Warp brightly in transcranial probabilistic Super Reality Color!

Zhey dream of the spoiling attack, and catching the Imperials by surprise! The many armed Genestealer cultists, reinforced by horrible monsters from beyond the stars and beyond the Galaxy smash through the Imperium lines, and claim a rapidly expanding beachhead through some of last levels below the next big open area of the Hive: The security and operations layer, above the highest mechanicus levels, but still below the Actual Spire. The Spire itself is almost a Mile high, with numerous landing pads and defenses in the Hive, but is also the homes of the Imperium Rulers and their Servants

Most futures saw the dehydrated cultist slain gloriously as a distraction while the Slaanesh Daemons run amok through the Imperium Lines

In what looked like fast forward to the panicking and dying servants of the corpse emperor, but felt like slow motion to the daemonette sisters, the caravan of Slaanesh Danced through and artistically tore apart the Astartes and Sororitas reinforcements.

The new factions were committing to battle in the Hive itself for the first time, at the suggestion of the Doomed Lamenter Captain! The shattered power armor and discarded bolters were eventually looted by the cultist alliance, and in the vision, the tide of flowing Imperium Blood raged and sprayed all the way up into the Spire. Mostly Zhey watched possible paths that led to futures where the Genestealers secured the territory, but the Slaanesh Daemons intervened and broke through the stalemates every time the many armed monsters and brood brothers chasing the retreating Imperium got stuck.

The Lamenters, as Sons of Sanguinius, possess greater psychic skills and potency than an average Space Marine. Captain Newland, was gifted with a fragment of his Primarch's foresight; saw visions of a roiling, undulating, shadow approaching. His oldest advisor, Epistolary Ossain informed the Captain that the shadow he was sensing was the sign of the vile creatures that had almost laid the Chapter low and the reason Ossain, himself was interred in this Dreadnaught sarcophagus. The Chaos threat was troubling, but the approaching shadow needed to be halted if Astheneia was going to be saved.

Mystranda Cherishes the Scent of Burnt Flesh
Praise be the Emperor! for it has been too long since the stench of melting alien flesh has met my nose. As we push further into this system, it seems the bugs strangle hold gets tighter and tighter. These blasted demons have taken many a Sister from us already, and I fear we may descending into a death trap. I sense that the forces of Chaos from within the Warp have tainted this system. Wretched Tyranids have begun to collaborate with Slaanesh's dancing demons, a level of coordination I have not witnessed in my years ahead this fleet.

The Inquisitor was struck down in our last encounter with the demons, and I am growing more concerned each day that he may not fully recover. Even our best Hospitaller's cannot repair some of the damage he suffered as a result of the Defiler's claws. With limbs torn from body, we are doing everything we can to put him back together. Cybernetics will be imperative to his survival; luckily there are nearby Mechanicus forces who have graciously offered their assistance in rebuilding our Inquisitional leader.

Communications Sergeant Cryna has notified me of allied forces in the sector, and I believe close coordination is our only chance at survival here. Sheer force of power has proven to be ineffective against the endless waves of demons that spill out of the Warp, and the Tyranids are known for their keen ability to overwhelm their opponents in sheer number. If we are to hold this system, and have any chance at reclaiming the awakened Artifact, the best tacticians the Emperor has at his disposal will be integral. Captain Newland Reeves has assured me that the Lamenters under his guide will form a spearhead to punch directly into the heart of the enemies forces. If my Sisters can hold the line, we should be able to destroy the hive mind controlling these vile aliens, and purge the Chaos with all of the weaponry our Father has blessed us with.

I also am quite excited to return some of our prisoners back to the Slaanesh demons who have terrorized us so. Many of their cultists fleed in fear in our last encounter as the Sororitas pushed forward towards their inspiring leaders. We have subjected these Heretics to the most torturous machinery we have to offer, and will ensure their painful demise as they are sent back towards the still loyal cultsits in great suits of weaponry. We shall Mortify the enemy, for they must Repent!

And so we prepare for this great day! May the Emperor's hand guide us towards our foes. May our flames once again lick the vile alien flesh they yearn for!

What Actually Happened
The Imperium's victory marked the end of the long grinding retreat. The front had been stabilized, and the spire was no longer in immediate danger. Captain Reeves had fought a long duel with the Exalted Keeper of Secrets, and had himself been near death when he smote the vile creature, and banished it back into the Artifact from which it had emerged.

After his triumph, the remaining cultists fled back into the smoking ruins, some of them led by Tynzer-Snip the Sorcerous Herald, still in the body of a young girl, and still carrying the Artifact.

The wounded Progenitor (also laid low by the blades of the Lamenters) had fled back into the tunnels, along with his newly exalted magus Alia, who had been defeated in a duel by the mysterious Ordo Mechanicus Inquisitor Saskia Ardens.

Praise to the Emperor! The Imperium Alliance held the battlefield, and the thoughts of the survivors turned towards what would come next. Many faithful servants had given their all: there were few Mechanicus forces left now, after the long horrible retreat, and the Lamenters who had never been many in number, were now even fewer. Most of the newly stabilized front was held by a thin line of Sororitas.

There were reports of attacks by the Tyranid menace on all the other worlds of the Astheneia system, and even more concerning, Chaos forces including a Heresy-Era Strike Cruiser were reported to be in control of the orbital stations around Astheneia. The major elements of the Tyranid fleet would soon be entering orbit around Astheneia, meaning it would not be long before they tried to claim this world as well.

But the great victory had shown that the Emperor had not abandoned the righteous! The Astartes and Sororitas looked like the personification of the avenging wrath of the Emperor himself! It seemed as if the tide of the war had turned, but the knowledge of the enemy forces moving in the void above them loomed like a dark shadow over the thoughts of the victors...

Blades of Lament
The battle plan Captain Newland proposed to the the forces of the Imperium worked just as planned. As soon as the combined forces of Xenos and Heretic was detected; Captain Newland informed Canoness Mystranda and High Magos Kappic-Schoelendt Malavont that the Lamenters of the 5th Company would act as a spearhead and target the larger threats that would undoubtedly be arrayed against them.

When the enemy was finally met in battle the coordinated forces of the Adeptas Sororitas, Adeptus Mechanicus, and Adeptus Astartes allowed the Xenos and Heretic to advance forward into the killing fields. The Skitarii of Forgeworld Caldus on the west flank were immediately hit by the lightning quick speed of the Daemons of Slaanesh; who were led by a foul Exalted Keeper of Secrets. The Xeno filth of the Order of the Void pressed the eastern flank held by the Martyred Maidens of Mystranda. The 5th Company held the center in order to react to the approaching threat.

The Skitarii of Forgeworld Caldus paid a high price holding the Daemons and foul heretical machines at bay. Captain Newland, his Bladeguard, Company Champion Hector, and the Venerable Epistolary Ossain pushed forward into the Slaaneshi Daemons. The 7th squad comprised of Aggressors pushed east to blunt the advance of the Tyranid Carnifexes that the Genestealers had brought with them.

Company Champion Hector reached the Keeper of Secrets first and held the aberration back as the Mechanicus line was beginning to bend. The foul daemon struck Hector down. As Captain Newland charged in to face down the vile Keeper of Secrets, the Patriarch of the Order of the Void, known as the Pregenitor struck at the weakened Mechanicus lines. On the east flank, the 7th Squad managed to take down an odd one-eyed Carnifex. In its death throes it struck down the majority of the Aggressors in the squad. Epistolary Ossain led the Bladeguard to do take down the Progenitor. The Bladeguard, who had been empowered by Ossain's psychic might, cut the Progenitor down in a blur of black iron swords.

Captain Newland had never experienced a duel like this in his life. The speed and ferocity of the Keeper of Secrets was unimaginable, Captain Newland parried as well as he could and his Gravis armor and Iron Halo saved him on more than one occasion. Newland felt Sanguinius was with him in this moment; He was already a masterful duelist, but in this duel he felt that his gift of foresight was keener than ever before. Newland matched the Keeper of Secrets in a stunning display of agility and was able to give as good as he got.

The rest of the battle faded from Captain Newland's focus. This duel required everything he had. The sounds of his master-crafted black iron blade clashing with the daemon's vile sword was all that he could hear. The duel came down to three strikes. Newland "saw" an opening in the guard of the Keeper of Secrets and as if Sanguinius himself was guiding his blade, he struck true. The Daemon faltered creating another opening, Newland struck again. Again an opening appeared and Captain Newland struck true severing one of the Daemons arms and splitting one of it's knees. With that last strike, the material form of the Keeper of Secrets failed it and it's foul essence was drawn back into a staff carried by a warp-corrupted child.

With the defeat of the Keeper of Secrets, the Heretic forces began to flee. Captain Newland paused for a moment to survey the battlefield; The Martyred Maidens of Mystranda had spread out and secured the line, the forces of Forgeworld Caldus had withstood the Xenos and Heretic onslaught. Canoness Mystranda reported over the Vox that she and her Sisters were in pursuit of the wounded Progenitor. Captain Newland voxed back to his Company's base of operation, requesting reinforcements in order to pursue the Heretics.