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Tau Auxiliary Fleet

The Tau Empire has been rapidly expanding. The current phase is known as the Third Sphere expansion. During this phase, the Tau quickly realized that their forces were equipped for combat on land, in the air, and in space. However, they now controlled planets that were primarily water. This unexpected development led to a great deal of debate on T’au’va on how the Empire should address these shortcomings.

The Fire Warriors were unwilling to trade in their traditional methods of warfare which did not address water born operations. They believed that their skimmer technology would allow them to ignore such terrain. However, after extended operations on Hydronis Secundus, it was discovered that the skimmer technology did not have the endurance for extended aquatic operations. Also, the Air caste could not provide unlimited support due to the ability of their aircraft to loiter sufficiently.

One of the greatest assets of the Tau is their empire of various races, with a wide plethora of abilities. It was to these Auxiliaries that the Ethereals turned to in order to meet their aquatic military needs. The amphibian race of Galg seemed a natural fit for such a role.

The Galg are a small, green-scaled, bi-pedal and frog like race that were integrated into the empire during the Second Phase expansion. Their race has an amazingly sophisticated use of certain, very specific technologies that relate directly to their survival on their Homeworld. However, in most areas, their technology levels were lagging far behind Tau standards. It was clearly a great benefit for the Galg to join with the Tau.

The Galg, Earth Caste, and Gue’vesa engineers worked together to create a solution to the Tau Empire’s aquatic warfare challenges. Prior to integration with the Tau Empire, the Galg practiced a form of aquatic raiding amongst their spawning grounds. Their planet is a shallow sea, periodically dotted with small marshy islands. These islands became the spawning ground for Galg young. The raiding took the form of infiltrating and stealing the eggs from another spawning pool, in order to increase the clan holding of the particular Galg tribe. To do this successfully, the guards had to be successfully led away or confused. In order to facilitate these raids, the Galg became experts at subterfuge, distraction and the feint. These traits fit well with existing Tau military philosophy.

A typical Tau Auxilliary Fleet is not interested in meeting and defeating an opposing force in open battle. Instead, they prefer to engage the enemy in a series of fake attacks, feints, and long range bombardments. The purpose is to sow confusion, cause accidents, splinter the opponents fleet, and generally make them want to withdraw. This type of battle is referred to by the Galg as “Death by a thousand needles” or Gglllla’ackoak in Galg.

The Tau Auxiliary Fleets are made up primarily of Galg personnel. Typically, Tau fleets are led by a Fire Warrior commander with a Water Caste envoy and a cadre of Galg, Kroot, and Gue’vesa advisors. As such, the Tau way of naval war is a strange hybrid of styles unlikely to be seen in other branches of the Tau military.

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Sergeant Lundstrom threw himself out of the Valkyrie as he muttered “Here we go again” to himself. As he fell below the roar of the engines of the massed dropship formation, he activated his advanced command optics, looking to either side and seeing eight black silhouettes pinpointed by blue diamonds imposed on his vision. “Only eight? Close it up, lads” A blue arrow pointing up on his optics suddenly appeared, with a rapidly decreasing distance counter next to it. Before he had time to react, the counter hit zero and something hit him in the back with a hammer blow. Grunting in pain, Lundstrom fought to stabilize himself in freefall so he wouldn’t compromise the unit with an early activation of his chute. After what seemed like an eternity, in fact only five seconds, of thrashing and weight-shifting, the sergeant returned himself to a normal freefall attitude, snarling within his respirator. At no more than one thousand feet above ground level, Lundstrom spoke at last into his microbead: “Rip”. On that command, the ten men of his section activated their grav chutes, gradually slowing their descent until they landed, either smoothly or roughly. In Lundstrom’s case, it was to be a hard landing. With an aggravated curse, the sergeant rolled on impact, feeling the weight of his chute press on his armour plating, winding him. Surveying the clearing in which they had landed, Lundstrom heard a tinny voice in his ear, that of his second in command.
“You okay sarge?” The concerned voice sounded out, growing more distant as the newly promoted corporal unclasped one side of his rebreather, moving his mouth away from his microbead.
“Yeah, but the bastard who hit me won’t be!” Lundstrom snarled back as he unholstered his plasma pistol and adjusted the settings of his unusual goggles to show him the rest of the platoon landing nearby in what, if not for his collision, would have been a near-perfect staggered double-file. Seperated from the other half of the platoon by a copse of trees and several low walls, Lundstrom’s section surveyed their surroundings, weapons raised, waiting for some intel. When the next Valkyrie flew overhead, it was decent enough to pinpoint some ground targets, which showed up as red diamonds on the sergeant’s field of vision, moving slowly closer, concealed by a thin layer of trees and two small huts. Maybe the Cadian 66th had, on this occasion, not been so stealthy. Before Lundstrom had a chance to deploy his section, shots rang out in their direction. The sergeant jumped to his feet and began to sprint closer, hoping to get within the effective range of his pistol. “Section vox, 2i/c, take three men and secure our rocket launcher. Demolitions and remaining Alphas, close up on me, let’s do this!” Four men peeled off to follow Lundstrom’s charge, firing from the hip or, in the case of the section’s demolition’s expert, hefting a demolition charge ready to be thrown.
“Secco, heavy weapon secured, get down!” Lundstrom hit the dirt along with his group of men as a frag rocket soared overhead and impacted amongst the trees ahead, shredding several Blood Pact troops and throwing more into the air or off their aim with concussive force. Seeing the Cadian firepower, a heavy stubber opened up from the rightmost hut, kicking up puffs of dust all around Alpha section as they closed the gap. Lundstrom switched his peripheral viewscreen to show his 2i/c moving with the heavy weapons team to get a better angle on the stubber position.
“Back up, guys, keep up the pressure!” The sergeant rose and continued to run, now firing snapshots off at a group of Blood Pact as he unhooked a frag grenade from his webbing. He kept running, watching as the demolition charge impacted against the right hut and blew the front wall open, silencing the heavy stubber. Switching targets, his own heavy weapon team stopped and fired on a group of retreating enemies, ruthlessly disposing of them. Lundstrom himself ran for the left-hand hut, raising his pistol as two Blood Pact troops emerged from the doorway, firing wildly in his direction. A double-tap of searing plasma melted the first, and the sergeant threw himself into the second enemy, the weight of his shoulderplate cracking the wretched man’s ribs as Lundstrom fluidly threw his frag under-armed into the open doorway, listening to the satisfactory crump. He entered the door, plasma pistol leading the way, and saw a variety of body parts and dismembered traitors littered across the floor.
“Secco, remains of the enemy counterattack are retreating. Nicely handled, we’ve been ordered to regroup with the platoon”. Lundstrom walked back out of the hut and came face-to-face with his demolitions expert.
“Sorry sarge, that bastard who hit you was me. But surely for a throw like that….” The sergeant jokingly headbutted his notorious wise-arse of a specialist and chuckled, setting off at a light jog to rejoin the platoon as more Valkyries passed overhead. No more red diamonds this time, only one casualty from a different section. Another good landing for the 66th.

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Here's part one of the WarLord of Chaos fluff.

The fighting on Ammoriss has been hard fought for the forces of Chaos, with little ground being actually taken. There was a lot of random slaughter but no major victories.

Warlord Krug sat on the bridge of his flagship the Death Incarnate; he was contemplating on how to rally his weak traitorous Brothers. He had already sent small groups of his own warband the Soul Reapers to each of his allies with little effect. He thought about the long gone days of glory and unwavering commitment of the once strong Legions. Maybe he was too focused on finding the Salmora artifact hidden on Ammoriss.

The suddenly the comms system came alive as three ships appeared from the Warp. The bridge crew sprang to life getting ready to smash the arriving ships, then a familiar gravely voice rang through the comm. The lead ship was the Despicable Deed the personal ship of Krugs second in command; the foul Demon Prince Titus the Butcher.

Krug knew this was a viciously good omen for the forces of chaos; Titus was Krugs most reliable minion. Once given a task he would complete it with a single-mindedness that even Krug himself would have a hard time breaking.

Krug decided to call all of the leaders of Chaos to the Death Incarnate for a council; for he knew that with Titus at his side even the Daemon Princes on Ammoriss would step in line. It was time for the forces of Chaos to fight with a singular goal; they would need to poor their weight into only one or two sectors until they fell. Only then could they move on to the next sectors and make Ammoriss fall.

crassius47

 

Hendricks stood at the back of the lander hoping that the rear doors would never open, he wished that they had never came back, he hated this place, hated the cold winds that blew from the northern
continents, hated the grim, dull grey skies and hated the bleak, washed out landscape of browns and greens. He hated this place.

He had been to places of sunlight and colour, warmth and contrast, and most of all places of hope in the future. He looked around the rest of his platoon and saw the same grim face on man after man, knowing that each was secretly praying to know what was beyond those rear doors.

“two minutes!” whispered the crew chief into the on-board vox set.

Each man looked at the trooper next to him, some smiled except Sergeant Vergan who was too busy being airsick to notice and Corporal Hesse who was still trying to strap the stowage down on his chimera.

Hendricks carried on studying the faces of his men for a moment but then noticed the lander start to level out and the acceleration slow as the retro rockets fired which sent a shudder down the whole length of the hold. Hesse stumbled but hung on to the strap he was pulling on, Vergan just carried on being sick.

The landing when it came was not the best he had been on but at least this one was under power and nothing was on fire and no-one was screaming.

The rear doors stated to creek open, he could see the light appear around the cracks and the slight hiss of minor decompression. His apprehension built up again as the doors widened to expose the landscape and the smell of damp earth flew in to meet him, he hated this place.

“Welcome home boy's, welcome to Cadia” smiled the crew chief.

The men in the lander all stood up and took hold of all their equipment and started to make for the rear door. Hesse scrambled up the side of the chimera like a prairie cat and jumped in the turret, seconds later the engine started up. The crew chief checked around the hold and deactivated the mag locks holding the chimera to the floor. Vergan stood up and walked down the side of the tank and rapped on the view port to let them know that they could start to disembark. He looked up and noticed that the hatch was still open and then looked down at the bag of airsick that he still clung to.

“don't” yelled Hendricks down the hold.

“would I” Vergan responded.

The look on Hendricks face ended any humour that Vegan might have normally got out of the situation so he carried on down the hold and onto the ramp down to the tarmac landing pad. The chimera moved forward and rolled past Hendricks onto the landing field.

Hendricks looked around making sure everyone was off the lander and that no-one had left any equipment. Satisfied he grabbed his bag and moved rearwards towards the exit.

The crew chief looked at Hendricks and saluted, Hendricks made the effort of a salute and walked down the ramp to the rest of the platoon. He was home, Cadia, fortress world on the imperium and the last bastion of humanity against the forces of disorder. Home. A dull, miserable planet, devoid of sunshine and colour, devoid of hope.

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Lieutenant Aaronson called in his platoon as he unclasped his rebreather at last. The platoon’s vox caster, secure in its capsule, had scattered a few hundred meters off the drop site. While any platoon could manage individually using their section-level vox headsets, they were unable to receive any major signals from company-level upwards, and could only receive recon information through text signals on a command dataslate. Simply put, unless they found that vox, they were screwed. Aaronson holstered his plasma pistol and pulled out his dataslate, studying the airborne feed from the command marauder high above ground level. The platoon formed a protective circle around his command squad as the two sergeants jogged in to join him, sergeant Hask running behind as he recovered the tags from his loss.
“Nice stunt with those huts there Lundstrom, but try and keep the collateral to a minimum” Aaronson looked up briefly from his slate, smiling at the sergeant and letting out a brief chuckle before once again returning his eyes to the small screen in his hand. “Platoon vox fell three hundred meters at bearing 060 from here, Spyglass wants us casting loud and clear. Hask, place a recovery marker on our fallen man and recover his munitions, then we’ll move” The junior sergeant nodded unhappily, clearly wishing he could have done something different to save his first casualty. When the body had been marked, and the fallen trooper’s munitions shared amongst the surviving men, Bravo platoon moved out in their trademark staggered double-file, half-crouched, walking silently, weapons to the shoulder and scanning. The airborne feed, compiled from various recon lightnings and sent to the command marauder, had shown a well-concealed ambush prepared around the drop-capsule, another platoon-sized force of blood pact, supported by a poorly hidden leman russ of an unknown pattern. Hopefully Bravo platoon would have a chance to ambush the ambushers. They looped wide around the blood pact, unseen but for the thermal imagery on Aaronson’s slate, now showing up as red diamonds on Lundstrom’s tactical visor. Aaronson signalled a halt to the platoon, now only fifty meters away from the left flank of the enemy line. Now they could make out the faint outlines of gun-pits and the men manning them, spotting at least four heavy stubbers of some new pattern. Nice, the lieutenant thought to himself. Though the leman russ had been switched off for silence, its crimson hull stood out from the bushland, and Aaronson could almost feel the rocket specialists of his platoon itching to let off a shot. But he had another ace to play first. Aaronson pulled his rebreather back up, whispering into his microbead “Bravo section loop around and try to catch them in a crossfire. Target the engine of that russ and hit it on my signal. Marbo?” Silent and almost unseen until now, guardsman Jake Marbo, the finest infiltrator of the 66th, spoke into his headset.
“Sir?”
“Do your thing”
“About time” The guardsman silently approached the nearest gun-pit and killed the gunner with a double-tap from his silenced autopistol, silencing the loader with a brutal knife-blow in the spine. Marbo waved forward guardsmen Wood and Colvin, who slowly, quietly, turned the enemy stubber to face down the line, looking back at Aaronson nervously for an order. A double-click through his headset told the lieutenant that Bravo section was now in position.
“Lesk, put a rocket in that can” The rocket trooper from Alpha section fired a krak missile at the turret junction of the blood pact tank, sending the turret spinning off its axis with the force of impact. Almost immediately after, a missile lanced out from the right into the engine compartment, permanently silencing the corrupted machine. Wood began firing down the blood pact line, cutting down shouting, confused troops with contemptuous ease. The heavy stubber’s side-loading clip suddenly clicked dry as Alpha section and the command squad rushed forwards, Wood and Colvin rising to join them. Marbo was nowhere to be seen. Sergeant Hask led his section in on the right flank, eliminating a section of the blood pact who had clearly only prepared for a frontal defense. The sergeant dropped down into a slit-trench and vaporised the nearest enemy with a shot from his plasma pistol, drawing his shin-knife and brutally stabbing another, consumed with rage over the loss of his youngest soldier. The platoon’s Etogaur, swinging a chainsword wildly, charged at the sergeant, who realised suddenly that he had over-extended himself. Hask’s pistol had run dry, and his knife, while sharp and well-controlled, was simply not long enough to save his life. The sergeant looped a finger around one of his grenade pins, but withdrew it as a darting figure smashed the blood pact lieutenant to the side, knocking away his weapon. Marbo’s knife made quick work of the Etogaur, driving up through his lower jaw in a clean kill-blow. Hask, stunned, reloaded his pistol and kept firing, his thanks drowned out by the sound of his shots. On the left flank, brutal hand-to-hand fighting had broken out, lasguns hanging by their slings in favour of combat knives, sword-bayonets, or power weapons. Aaronson himself literally smashed his way through the enemy line, his powerfist shattering bones as surely as if they were made from glass. The roaring heat of corporal Makher’s flamer incinerated those blood pact who were foolish enough to rely on their poor fortifications for defense, and almost managed to drown out the disturbing sound of his jubilant laughter. Some men belonged on flamers, and Makher was certainly one of them. Corporal Van Hass, Aaronson’s plasma gunner, avoided the melee, instead focusing on taking out the final operational stubber team as they prepared for a last stand. Aaronson smacked another enemy aside and raised his powerfist for another kill-blow before he realised that he was face-to-face with guardsman Marbo, who was nonchalantly cleaning his knife. Markev, the platoon vox specialist, strode into the clearing and recovered the caster at last, sending a situation report through to the command marauder. Marbo sheathed his knife and slammed a fresh clip into his pistol, keeping his lasgun slung.
“Where are the rest?”

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The Arch-Magos Stanislav space port bustled with Imperial drop ships unloading their cargos. The sinews of war were being stretched as men and material rolled from the bellies of the huge craft. To the untrained eye it looked like chaos reigned. Men shouted, machinery roared, chains clanked, and it all mixed together into a sonic whirlwind.

Colonel Thomas Wolfe tapped his foot impatiently. Behind him, his staff shuffled, mirroring their commander’s unease. Many of them were sweating in their uniforms. They were use to the controlled climates of their tanks and hab-domes back home.

Behind the officers stood several ranks of weary tank crews. Most of them had stripped out of their heavy uniform jackets and hung them loosely over their shoulders. Their glare reducing goggles were pushed high on their helmets. They chatted quietly with one another, glad to be back on solid ground.

“Lt. Halder? Where are our tanks?” The Colonel did not even bother turning around.

The lieutenant moved the vox from his ear slowly, “Ahhh…. the Portmaster’s office reports that they were offloaded yesterday.”

The Colonel nodded, “And…”

“They were shipped to a storage facility about twenty klicks from here. They just arrived there moments ago.”

“I thought they were supposed to be awaiting us here?” the Colonel’s voice was calm and measured.

The junior office visibly gulped, “The Portmaster’s office advised me that the schedule was changed sometime early yesterday to accommodate the unloading of the Drogan 22nd’s logistical transports.

“Tell me Lt. Halder, what does the Tactica Imperialis say regarding the application of armored units?”

Lt. Halder straightened his back and began like a fresh cadet, “The Tactica Imperialis states in Chapter 5, section 14, paragraph 5, that armored regiments should be utilized….”

Colonel Wolfe whirled around on the lieutenant, his accusing finger jabbing the young man in the chest, “What good is a tank regiment without tanks? What does the Tactica Imperialis say about that?”

The assembled staff officers shuffled their feet and glanced around uncomfortably. Lt. Halder simply blanched, but tried his best to remain at attention. Finally, Major Goethe cleared his throat, conscious of the rows of tankers behind him.

“Ahem… pardon me sir. Perhaps Lt. Halder should get on the vox to the Portmaster and arrange transport?” the major whispered loudly enough for the assembled officers to hear.

Colonel Wolfe glared down his long nose at the junior officer; his eyes boring through him, “Yes. Perhaps he can salvage our dignity from this mess yet. I hate to think what the locals think about such disorganization. The honor of the 1st Saint Paulus Armored Regiment must be maintained. That is the duty of every officer.”

“Of course sir. Every officer,” Major Goethe nodded solemnly.

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Warlor of Chaos part 2.

When the leaders arrived there was much debate on where to focus their attacks. In the end it was decided to focus on the Southern most war zones. The main effort of the Chaos forces would be focused on the capture of the Pierefoy; accomplishing this task would render the servants of the false Emperor blind with no communications and little hope of reinforcement.

The 16th Grand Company of the Iron Warriors along with 5 companies of the Ammoriss Bloodpack was to immediately redeploy to the area around the Pierefoy.

The Host of Daemons under the Herald of Nurgle Bargoth Poxflesh has been summoned and sent to Fortunes Landing in Wazone 12; to infect as much of the population as possible for the glory of Nurgle .

The Sons of Slaughter would keep raiding in the area around Lake Macintosh.

The newly reinforced Soul Reapers would split into three battle groups; the Harvesters, the Butchers and the Reavers.

The Harvesters under command of Krugs two Sorcerers, Xusia the “Soul Eater” and Jhor Locke the “Changer of Ways” ; they would be sent to the Ridgeback Massif. Their task is twofold firstly they will use their mystical powers to create as many rage zombies and spawns of chaos as possible; thusly creating as much havoc in the area as they can. The second task is the whole reason the Soul Reapers answered the call to aid the forces of the Dark Gods on Ammoriss; find the Salmora artifact the “Minds Eye” which is hidden somewhere in the Massif.

The Butchers under command of the Daemon Prince Titus the “Scourge of Lambosia”; they would be tasked with commanding the siege of the Pierefoy. The single-mindedness if Titus will not allow the forces of Chaos to fail in their task.

The Reavers would be under command of Lord Krug himself. They would be a reserve force stationed on the Death Incarnate ready to aid the forces of Chaos by Dreadclaw and teleportation.

With the plans laid out and forces mustering the fate of Ammoriss is bleak for the weakling forces of the Imperium of man.

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Sitting on the Bridge of the Death Incarnate Warlord Krug was surveying the Progress of the siege of the Pierefoy. He witnessed the Treachery of the Iron Warriors Warsmith, Krug had knew that he might face these kinds of actions. This is why he had moved his fleet in orbit directly above the Pierefoy.

With one nod to his gunners a hellstorm was unleashed upon the Iron Warrior artillery batteries, as the fleet launched a massive orbital barrage. The artillery utterly destroyed as it was engulfed in the intense heat of the Melta Barrage.

Krug spoke into the Comm....

"Warsmith you had your chance to lead, you proved yourself unworthy of the task. You either fight for the glory of the Dark Gods with me or die where you stand!

Now get back to the task at hand and enjoy the challenge of doing it without your artillery. Do not usurp my authority again, there will be no more warnings. "

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The Red Wolves home world of Bloodfall

In 750.M41 The Red Wolves denied the Night Lords Chaos Space Marine Chapter, of a possessed cruiser the "Shadeblight", in the Ango sub-sector. The Red Wolves stood alone against the Chaos Marines, and alone they stopped the menace of the Night Lords scourge of the sector.

The Red Wolves use the Rules of the Blood Angels to represent their greater strength at the close assault. As there is a speculation that they are a combination experiment of 2 gene seeds. Those of the Space Wolves (Leman Russ) and the Blood Angels (…). None for the inside of the chapter will confirm this.

Also they are at full strength, and even above, as they are afraid to tell that some of their Marine have fallen under some kind of black rage, which they call the transformation to the basics. These are a small separate company, they are kept in a special closed part of their fortress and only used in small amounts, because in to big packs they are uncontrollably. This special part is called the Wolves lair and only the apothecaries and the priest have access to it.
The Chapter Command is called the Shadow House, they rule the chapter and also their home world, a little like the ultra marines have done in a complete system. The high ruler is chosen from them, those are called the Pack Master and is also responsibly for the Council of War. This Council is normally a meeting of the Chapter Master and Commanders, with the commanders of the PDF and the fleet commander. An elected Pack Master can be this only for ten years, after this period they resign and a new one is chosen. The current pack master is Helnjev Krutsj, he is a the moment leading the fighting against the orc invasion on one of the moons of Bloodfall.

The Council of War organises the recruitment of new initiates. The pack master is also the commander of the local PDF, which fights along the Red Wolves. The army is normally made of initiates who are training for to become a space marine. Every year there is an evaluation of every trooper and the ones that are chosen by the Council can start their training. This leads to a very highly trained and armoured force, which is more then the equivalent of the storm troopers of other Imperial Guard regiments. There are also a lot of bionics used throughout the army, as they are threaded by the apothecaries of the Wolves.

In the army there is a higher use of apothecaries and priests then a normal chapter. They are also more equipped for city fighting, with almost no use of tanks. They follow an own pattern for indication of their troops. Grey / Red armour means veterans. Pure Red armour with black shoulder pads are normal marines, with squad markings on their helmets and their knee pads. An bronze helmet means that they are part of the household guard, the honour guard of the chapter. The Wolves don’t have a special indication as you normally can recognize them immediately, as they are somehow a transformation between men and wolf. They wear there original power armour with their original squad markings.

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An Inquisitor has claimed the command of the Regiment to support the Red Wolves space marine chapter at their home world. There is probably an chaos thread in the area. The home world of the Red Wolves is more of a death world, so the survivability of normal men on the planet surface is rather difficult. That is why there are that many underground city’s and also the main hive city is build largely underground. So if it seems necessary they can take good use of their ability to survive in an hostile environment (the under hives). They are also a very versatile fighting force, which is able to react rather fast to new evolutions in a warzone. The only problem is their use of beastmen, which can be dangerous if there is a chaos contagion in the area.
The Inquisitor will also be able to keep an eye on the beastmen and their evolution in the warzone. Also to see if they are genetically stable enough to live safe next to the people. And maybe their use on a larger scale in the warfare.

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Corporal Micheal woke up when the sirens started to scream, their sounds was deafening. He jumped out of his hammock, there base was under attack. As fast as he could he put on his uniform, loaded his gun and ran to the meeting point. Their we many sleepy men, readying their guns, arranging their uniforms and ammo belts. This was the first platoon of the mordion 7th. The veterans of the infantry regiment, spear point of many attacks. Now they would defended their first line bunker.
Corporal Micheal started to shout: “Alright my men, you know what to do, you know your positions, your not the greenies anymore, to the bunker!” And of they were, running past other more dizzied troopers and beastmen as the alarm continued….

2 hours were passed since the alarm and at their bunker no movement was seen, no enemy, they didn’t even hear any gunfire. Then they some something, their was something moving in the ruined village, 3 miles in front of them. Some kind of human shaped things were moving carefully through the ruins. The men got worried, that weren’t orcs, nor tyranids. Something new came their way, something they didn’t face before. They loaded their guns and waited worried at the attack. But the attack never came from that side, suddenly the fire came from their left. At the same moment, the roaring thunder of large calibre fire approached them. Their were countless orcs and chreting running towards them, lead by an orc in a robot like body. They were yelling and firing in their direction, in a true orc fashion. Corporal Micheal started to scream orders: “ Into the trench system, ready the flacks and turn them as low as you can, arm the mines and soldier Rico, keep an eye on those creatures in the village”. “Wait for my command to fire!”, “Hold it, Hold it”. “Sir, they are only 700 meters away”. “Hold it I said, wait for my command”. The orcs were closing fast, 500, 400, 300 meters… Then the first one’s reached the mine fields, it were those little chretgins. The wave of these little buggers, just ran through the minefield were blown sky high, but they kept coming… Then they were through the minefield, almost none of the larger orcs got hurt in it… “Give the some fire, blaze away with everything!” The 2 Flack guns started to rumble, making a deafening ballade of small calibre cannon fire, this combined with the cracking shots of auto guns and their grenade launcher tore through the orcs lines, many got killed and the other part turned around and fled back, but they mopped up with bigger block of orcs behind them. Their guns silenced and waited for the orcs to get nearer again, but suddenly their was movement from their right side, the creatures they had seen in the village charged forwards towards the approaching orcs. It were the beastmen of the 7th, lead by that techadapt. This surprised the orcs, they were now attack from 2 sides. Now even their numbers could make up the courage, the started to scream and turned tale, with the beastmen in hot persude….

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The history of Bloodfall

Bloodfall is said to be part of the Solar System in which Holy Terra lies. Only the coordinates the planet normally has, seems to be right. The planet is actually more part of the Ultima Segmentum, it has been frequently attacked by orks from the Ork Empire of Charadon. As it lies close to the Storm of the Emperor's Wrath is has now the burden of a small Chaos Force of an unknown Nurgle Commander. This is why the 7th Mordian Infantery Regiment together with an inquisitor has been send to the planet to investigate this thread.

When the planet Bloodfall was first discovered, it was a death world, mostly covered with dense Jungle terrain. The planet is 4 times bigger then Terra, but has the same gravity, the years are a little longer, but not much. About 50% of the surface are oceans and lakes. 23% are mountains and the latter jungle terrain. This part has been reduced till 10%.

After the colonialisation, the planet grew as an agri world. There are 7 big cities and one space port on the planet. One city has been completely destroyed by ork meteors, this part of the planet is still dangerous terrain as there are still band of raving orks left. This part of the world has been isolated from the other part, this was made easier as it was an peninsula.

The fortress monastery of the Red Wolves lies in one of the biggest mountain chains at 3500 meters height. It lies on a plateau of about 1km² and is called the Palace of Eternal Youth. It is made of dark yellow stone, with a bronze gate so it blends good in mountains.

Fluff by The Great Gonzo

 

SGT Major Alessandro Alegre woke in his shell scrape and enjoyed a long yawn. Rising in the cool morning air he took in his surroundings. Sun up in 1 hr standard time. Sentries on posts. Commissar Pirez was up and about as usual; kicking the more Junior SNCO’s to rouse them from their slumber.
In the distance the dull crump of artillery could be heard. Above the world Alessandro could make out hundreds of bright stars. He knew full well they were Navy Starships, slowly blocking this world form external interference. Alessandro cycled up his powerfist, checking all power settings before a total power off. His command squad was all awake, Luther, the Vox operator, had the stove on. Looking up he nodded to the SGT Major;

“Brews up boss, breakfast will be done in 10.”

“Good son, I’m hungry and something tells me today will be busy, too busy for food.”

Luther continued to attend the stove, diverting his attention to his own equipment as Alessandro took a steaming cup and walked off to check his platoon. All his boys were already into their morning routine, las-rifles cleaned, kit packed and checked and stoves boiling up whatever they had managed to scrounge/steal/liberate from the local area. Sgt Rhames’ squad was on stag, the SGT manning the CP in his usual jovial manner.

Seeing the Sgt Major, Rhames braced up;

“Morning Sir, Comms chatter is up, Recon have picked up the enemy and have engaged. Scattered reports of movement on all fronts, no contact from any other platoon as yet, sleep well last night?... “

“Is there anything else for me SGT?”

“Yes sir, the boss sends his love; he’ll be here in 2 standard days. Says he has a surprise for us…”

Rhames let a wry smile escape his stern face, Alessandro too was smiling;

“I’m looking forward to it, maybe this time he might bring us a present, seeing how we never got so much as a post card.”

Rhames had stopped listening and raised a hand to silence his superior. The vox-net was active.

“Ok Miraz, keep your squad in position. I want 5 minute SITREPS. Boss we have contact. STAND TO!”

As the cry left Rhames lips the platoon was already in action, weapons trained in arcs of fire, loaders checking and double checking ammo was fed, loaded. Gunners checked their sights and their range markers, looking for the first sign of movement.

“See you later mate, keep me posted”

Alessandro turned and left the veteran to his job, Rhames had already diverted his full attention to managing the situation. Returning to his squad he energized his gauntlet to 15%, gently squeezing his pace stick to add another notch to the gnarled piece of wood. His Boys: Red platoon, 2nd company, 1st battalion 79th Cadian Regiment of Foot were ready. Ready to deliver death to their enemy.

dean edit

 

Duffy missed:
heres 10 points for august:

Quote:

 

Lieutenant Issen Siglo entered the room, he felt uneasy, something was wrong. He felt that there was something, something that made his soldier spirit uneasy... But then he thoughts were pulled to something else, someone has entered it from the other side. She came walking down on him, with unrushed steps, steadily cover the distance between them.
She looked into his eyes, he looked in hers. They were cold, ice cold blue eyes. Then he sensed what was wrong, she was a psyker, she could read his thoughts, could see in his mind. She knew what he would say, what he would do. Then she pulled back, looking at him from a few feet away. Their she stood, looking at him, observing.
Then she spook: “welcome Lieutenant Siglo, welcome to my chamber. Can we get something for you?” And a familiar came standing next to her, with the same kind of clothes, pale blue dresses.
“No thanks my lady. My command centre said that Inquisitor Von Kraugsberghe wanted to speak me?”
“You’re right Lieutenant, I did want to speak with you, I’m the Inquisitor.”