NationStates Jolt Archive

The feral world of Galthir was colonised in the heady days of the first human expansion into the galaxy. Technologically advanced and fuelled by hope for their race, the first colonists pacified the surface fauna with advanced defoliant chemicals, allowing for the safe and efficient transplant of crops and herd animals from their homeworld. For a thousand years, Galthir flourished as a trading post and industrial world. It produced armaments and war machines for the galactic human empire of the day, and the Galthir military academia was highly regarded throughout the empire.

Disaster struck. Galthir lost all communication with the empire during a warp storm the likes of which had never been recorded. The last transmissions recieved indicated that entire worlds had already been lost to spacial flux, and all of human civilisation was in disarray. A colossal electromagnetic pulse destroyed every circuit on the planet, plunging it into darkness. Their starships grounded and all methods of communication and manufacture destroyed, Galthir fell to nothing within a month. Her people turned to desperation, squabbling over the remnants of their society until all trace was lost.

Five millenia passed. The galaxy was at war again, as the reforged empire was wracked by strife. The imperial armies turned upon each other, and brother fought brother as legions of genetically-altered warriors fought a thousand battles on a million worlds. Weapons fire tore open the Galthir sky as fleets engaged each other in high orbit. After a day and a night, the end of the battle was marked by a series of colossal, silent detonations. Pure-white vessels, edged in deepest blue, descended through the atmosphere. The tribes of ravaged Galthir watched in awe as hundreds of white-armoured warriors, each head and shoulders taller than any of the tribesmen, disembarked from the bellies of their ships. More craft followed them, transporting great containers of construction equipment and machinery.

A few men gathered enough bravery to approach them. They returned to their people with bright eyes, staggering steps, and the few words taught to them by the warriors.

"Imperium," they said. "Space Marine."

"World Eater."

OOC: Hello to all. FT, as you see. Just setting out some background first.

013.M31
Unnamed World, Segmentum Obscurus

Brother-Chaplain Visimar surveyed the assembly of several power units. Two hundred brothers of the Legion had been lost to the guns of the traitorous sons of Guilliman, who had attacked without warning as the company had prepared to begin landing troops. Gradually beaten back by the massed firepower of the company's vessels, the Ultramarine fleet had retreated in good order and entered the warp.

Visimar's head still rang from the detonations which had shaken the battle-barge Emperor's Light, her hull assaulted by the massive munitions impacts of the enemy. What could have driven the Ultramarines to this attack? This insanity, by Angron! Communications with Terra had been cut for nearly six months, and the company had not seen a single member of their Legion since being ordered to take several unpopulated or low-technology worlds in a small cluster.

The company would establish a base of operations, and suspend their mission. This matter had to be brought to the attention of the Legion, perhaps even the Emperor himself.

Imperial Territory - Laxim Cluster/ Milky Way Spiral Arm.

The Empire, noble and strong had now been expanding her influence for over one hundred years. Relentless, bloodthirsty and unforgiving, the arm of the Sith stretched and grew, now encompassing a second Galaxy ripe for conquest.

On board the Imperial Star Destroyer Repression a conclave met to discuss the newest possible threat to the Empire. A star cluster localised on a distant spiral arm in the Milky Way Galaxy marked for Imperial salvaging, for the emperors newest fleet of world devastators had been penetrated by forces unknown.

High Inquisitor Silas mused over a flickering display of the latest holographic star charts, "Our probe droids have completed their scan of the system, and we have received word of some most troubling ventures." Silas turned to the assembled staff of the Star Destroyer. "Unknown vessels of configuration of the fallen Chronosian Imperium mark the skies of Gholgotha." The image shimmered for a moment before detailing a droids high resolution findings. "The planet was taken in a matter of hours, life signs on the surface, inconclusive." The assembled officers remained perfectly composed and silent.

"Are we assuming them hostile?" Captain Tachos asked moving closer to the display. "Space marines in all probability."

"Yes, more than likely captain." Silas turned the presentation back to the star charts. "As you're all aware the emperors venture in the Asfaltum system has consumed much of our resources in this sector, and Gholgotha lies perilously close to our primary hyperspace lines. Only fourteen lightyears."

"Perfect for interdiction efforts, and fortifications. Assuming they are hostile of course."

"Of course." Silas agreed. "More than likely they did not detect our beacons or are unaware of our claim to the area. We have been ordered by Acting Grand Admiral Netter, to take the Repression to Gholgotha and ascertain the intent of these aliens." A host of heads nodded at the orders in agreement.

"Just the Repression Inquisitor?" The good captain asked with a hint of nerves.

"Until the emperor has completed his operations in Asfaltum captain. Until then our orders are to pursue only diplomatic procedures." Silas narrowed his eyes and inclined his head. "We cannot risk a war against a significantly sized foe at this moment in time captain. It is the emperors will."

"And I am bound to it." Tachos saluted and took in hand a silver datapad clearly detailing the orders. He managed to avoid a shiver as his hand almost touched that of the Sith. It was well rumoured that they could see and hear the emperor at all times, that their eyes were the eyes of Palpatine; thousands placed all over the cosmos, watching and waiting for mistakes and treason. "We can depart as soon as the computer plots our course Inquisitor."

Silas closed the briefing and looked at Tachos. "Excellent."

Fifteen minutes later 200 Light Years further.

The Repression dropped out of Hyperspace, the millions of star lines blinking and flickering slowly mutated into a countless multitude of blinking stars. Tachos stood near the primary observation windows and looked out surveying the system. "Commodore, conduct a scan, tell me what's out there......"

OOC: A First Constant Scenario - an Imperator Mark One Star Destroyer present. Scanning the system, up to you to respond if you want anyone in the thread :)

OOC: Had intended to do some more background, but a small adaption can make this work fine. The Marines were lost in the warp during the Horus Heresy, so as far as they know, it's still M31.

IC:

Glowing runes blinked into life on the bridge of the Emperor's Light, and a wailing siren rang from the ship's warning systems. The crew bustled into frantic activity, cross-checking coordinates and sensor shadows with each other. Brother-Captain Arius stood resplendent in the glorious white and blue of his Legion at the command lectern, his own displays showing the final readouts of the crew.

Vessels of an alien design, though not in Imperial records. His expressionless face turned to a vox-input port, and through clenched teeth he spoke quickly.

"Void shields full to port," he ordered the crew, "all crew to ready positions."

---

What remained of the Imperial vessels readied themselves for engagement, as the Emperor's Light prepared to broadcast on all channels. The company's predicament would not be aided by a second battle, and diplomacy would be the first resort today.

Alien vessel, this is Brother-Captain Arius of the Emperor's Light, a vessel
of the World Eaters Space Marine Legion of the of the God-Emperor of Mankind.
Identify yourself and your intention.

"Well?" Tachos said as he peered out into the black. "What do we have?"

The young officer operating commscan looked up and flickered his hands over a multitude of controls. "Several warships sir, as we can ascertain all heavily damaged."

Tachos looked over his shoulder to Inquisitor Silas. "They still believe their Imperium remains intact..."

"I know." He said with a small chuckle. "Their idea of Terra is now lost to multitudes of races, perhaps a tool we can use to our advantage."

"We would prove wise to reply promptly, they may be relics from one of the extinct Imperiums crusades, aggression heavily fortified into their genome."

"Oh undoubtedly." Silas seethed with the force. "I can feel the aggression boiling within them, a great hate struggling to rise to the surface. They can be manipulated I feel, easily..." Tachos, unfamiliar with the power of the force felt a small chill travel up and down his spine. Most in the Navy despised force users, they mistrusted them, some of their abilities were unnatural, too destructive, unfair to the natural balance of life.

"Commscan, open a channel." Tachos ordered the operator. "I assume they are using traditional Vox frequencies?"

"Yes captain, it's possible they may be able to receive holographic transmissions."

Silas shook his head slowly. "No, I think we will stick to simple audio for now gentleman and I believe that I will make the transmission." Silas walked towards commscan.

"Well it is a political matter." Tachos conceded.

"Quite." Silas opened a channel.

"I am Inquisitor Silas of the Imperial Star Destroyer Repression. You have intruded upon territory claimed by the Galactic Empire, we are here to establish reasoning for this transgression."

Captain Arius gritted his teeth as he listened to the absurdity spouted by the alien. He spoke again in harsh tones.

This system is claimed in the name of the Imperium of Mankind and the God-
Emperor. We recognise no other claim, nor that of your galactic dominion.
The God-Emperor reigns over a million worlds from Holy Terra, and this galaxy
is His domain. It is you who transgress.

On the dark-side of the planet...

Six warships defolded into orbit over the planet, consisting of one Macross-class Super Dimension Fortress and five ARMD-class droid fighter carriers. The contrasting size between the SDF and the ARMDs was quite obvious, as the SDF was nearly three times the size of one ARMD, but dimensions are never really important unless a nation is trying to flaunt its e-penis, so onto what matters.

"Commander Hayes," called out the captain. "Status report!"

"Engineering is reporting that the Reflex generator has gone offline," stated the tactical officer. "Power is now being drawn from the auxilary thermo-nuclear reactors."

"What systems are online?" The captain sounded rather agitated.

"Auxilary and tertiary engine systems are online and are providing us minimal cruising speed," continued the tactical officer. "The Reflex missile system and the guided converging beam cannons are currently offline. However, our main rail cannons are fully functional and our external Destroid bunkers have been manned in case of an attack."

"What is the status of the ARMD group?" The captain sounded calm now.

"One moment, Captain Gloval," said the tactical officer. She typed in a series of commands, and she was soon rewarded with stream of information on her cybernetic HUD and her main computer screen. "The AI supercomputer onboard the leading ARMD reports that all systems on each ARMD are one hundred percent online and are on standby."

Gloval sighed with relief. "Good. At least we have a decent means of defense against any suprise attacks. That last Ork raid nearly killed us." The captain's face turned to a dark, somber look. "We lost a lot of good men and ships back there..."

"Sir, what should our next course of action be?" Commander Hayes was a bit nervous with their predicament.

"Deploy a distress beacon," replied the captain. "And try to find out where we are. Alright, Lisa?"

"Yes sir!" The tactical officer, as well as the rest of the crew, began their duties, relaying multiple orders to each station, and soon, a repeated distress signal began playing out in multiple languages.

"This is the SDF-84 Blue Demon requesting immediate assistance from any nearby allied forces. Please reply. We are currently floating adrift at the provided coordinates on auxilary power, and we are in desparate need of repair."

((I'll come back to this after class.))

Exploration is an unavoidable part of any expanding race's quest for greatness and greater power. To expand and give more breathing room for a race, a concept first brought about millenia before in eons-old worlds, still plies the stars as civilizations take to the heavens for conquest and expand in the name of their own race. The Amazonian Dominion here is no exception-with only a limited space avaliable inside the massive nebulous cloud, the Dominion has always looked outside the Shroud to expand further, to seek out relations with others to promote the Dominion as a dominant stellar force.

For this reason, an unnamed-and knowledgably unclaimed on all galactic starcharts-was the site of a pass-by and scan force of a Recon Fleet of the Dominion. It was less a "fleet" than a simple group-it composed of four ships; one patrol craft, one corvette, one frigate, and a cruiser. Light enough to move quickly between the stars looking for expansion and exploration but heavy enough to engage hostile pirate forces looking to cause a clash.

However, a transmission-usually gone unanswered by Recon fleets-piqued the interest of this one, now on call across the heavens for over four months. Something to spark some interest, hopefully, besides the usual stellar anomolies or natural bodies. The transmission came through the fleet's lead ship-the Pinnacle-class cruiser ADV Indiscriminate Justice-clear: some sort of a distress call. The source of the call was unknown, though the meaning was clear as it came aboard the ship's comm registrar:

~"This is the SDF-84 Blue Demon requesting immediate assistance from any nearby allied forces. Please reply. We are currently floating adrift at the provided coordinates on auxilary power, and we are in desparate need of repair."~

"SDF-84...not one of ours," muttered the Justice's CO, Captain Sylar Venet. "Send a recurring signal back, lieutenant."

"At once, sir," replied the ship's sensor officer, Lt. Jarvis Udolay.

The signal was the activation of the ship's active sensor array, triangulating the original comm's position and reflecting pulses back at it. It was clearly a ship-but not in the Dominion's registrar.

"Unknown, hit it with a hail," ordered Venet.

The transmission was quick, but to the point to the unknown craft apparently in need of repair:

~"This is the Amazonian cruiser ADV Indiscriminate Justice on recon duty. Unknown craft SDF-84 Blue Demon, please state your condition and indentity-your original comm stated you were in need of repair."~

"Brother-Captain!" screeched the vox-implant of a white-uniformed tech-adept, his face hidden by a deep red hood. "We are receiving a signal... from a differing point of origin to the xenos vessel!"

Arius rose from his command lectern with a jolt and a snarl.

"Angron's teeth!" he yelled, the strain obvious, "Is there no peace in this galaxy?"

"My lord!" pleaded the adept, drawing deeper into his robes, the remaining human portion of his body suddenly very conscious of its frailty compared to the massive space marine.

Arius forced himself to be calm, overriding his surging battle-implants. His body pulsed with powerful combat drugs, but the captain refused to show it.

"Play the transmission," he ordered.

---

SDF-84, this is the Emperor's Light of the World Eaters Legion of the Imperium
of Mankind, in the service of the holy God-Emperor. Identify yourself further.

A unit of Fleet Mechanicus, commanded by Magos Explorator Nguyen, was as usual, plying the stars in an effort to find new life, new civilizations, new worlds to conquer.

That is, until this little impromptu convention got set up.

Scans indicated the presence of....SPACE MARINES!? Unusual. The only Marines in the Hailung System were those of the Legio Johnson. They had known no other Marines existent so far as of now...this was worthy of investigation. Joining them was the St. Farnsworth's Fury, a Lunar-class Cruiser ship that had been out on diplomatic leave, but rendezvoused with the force. It was no ordinary cruiser, but rather it held the Lady Imperiatrix herself, Funaho Murasaki of the Dominion of Hailung. As far as she knew, her remnant was the only portion of the Imperium left.

Moving their ships in closer to the conglomerate, they took care to lower their weapons. The symbol on the Barge became apparent, and shocked many onboard.

"I don't believe it. Is that symbol what I think it is?"

One of the Commissars onboard said, "If that symbol is what you think it is....then we're dealing with relics. Possibly pre-heresy. Look at those colors, they don't match anything on file."

The Lady Imperiatrix replied, "Look up that symbol, index all records, you have my permission."

One of the Priests said, "There is no need! That is the symbol of the World Eaters, those damnable traitors, before they fell to Khorne."

An officer candidly replied, "Guess some of them didn't get the memo."

The Lady Imperiatrix put down the model ship she was painting, stood and then said, "Order the ships to stop. Open a channel to the barge. I want to talk to these men myself, and get the information directly from them. Father, begin praying for me."

Attempting to hail the barge, the LI said:

"Marines. I am Lady Imperiatrix Funaho Murasaki, head of the Dominion of Hailung, Imperium of Man, Obedient Servant of the Immortal Emperor and heir to the House of Kurosawa. Would you be so kind as to state what chapter you are from?"

It was astonishing that so many vessels had been drawn to this tiny region of space. Again, Arius prepared to transmit.

Chapter? We are Space Marines of the World Eaters, the twelfth Legion created
by the God-Emperor of Mankind, battle-brothers and sons of the Primarch Angron.
It is enheartening to find another servant of His Will in this xenos-infested
system, but your terminology is curious.

Our ships were attacked without warning by a fleet bearing the colours of the
Ultramarines as we prepared to begin launching transports. They refused to
answer our transmissions and near two hundred battle-brothers were killed by
the traitors before they were beaten back.

The Primarch will require immediate notification of this incident, but we have
not been able to establish communications with the Legion or Terra for
approximately six months. I would enquire about the state of your own
communications systems.

7 ships ripped through a void of unreality. 7 vessels slammed through the veil to return to this world. 7 ships, confronted with a lost planet, several other task forces, four calling birds, three french hens, two turtle doves, a partridge in a pear tree, five ducks, a small army of macaws, and 8 sides of bacon. Only about half of that list is accurate.

"Kommandant, scheint es, als wenn es keine weniger als fünf Hauptpolities gibt, die hier dargestellt werden, und vielleicht die kleinere nisht zu unterscheidend vom Major."

"Erkennen das hauptsächlich von hier dargestellten denen, ausgedehnte Form zu ihnen diese Anzeige."

"Ja Kommandant, Bereiten Sie vor, um zu übertragen."

"Das ist gut."

Dieses ist die Sharonan Dreadnought verwelkte Ernte, ich sind Admiral Hans Brasche, Sharonan Raum-Marine, und ich möchte die Führer der einiger hier erfaßten Energien treffen. Sind häufig solche Versammlungen Positionen der Zwietracht und des Hasses, und es ist mein Wunsch, freundlichen Kontakt mit mindestens einer Majorität von denen herzustellen, die mich beantworten.

The ancient Germanic dialect would seem strange to some, to others it might seem as a refreshing throwback. It was a friendly greeting and invitation to meeting. The Dreadnought, its Battlecruiser escorts, and the remaining quartet of destroyers simply served as a reminder that this friendly and peaceable seeming Admiral had teeth behind his words. Hopefully those teeth would dissuade the usually precipitous action displayed at such confluences of great and small nations.

OOC: Too lazy for a full translation back to English. Roughly put, "Hey, let's not kill each other, wanna come over, have some chow, and talk about this so it doesn't end up as a mutualistic death orgy like way too many intros?"

It was astonishing that so many vessels had been drawn to this tiny region of space. Again, Arius prepared to transmit.

Chapter? We are Space Marines of the World Eaters, the twelfth Legion created
by the God-Emperor of Mankind, battle-brothers and sons of the Primarch Angron.
It is enheartening to find another servant of His Will in this xenos-infested
system, but your terminology is curious.

Our ships were attacked without warning by a fleet bearing the colours of the
Ultramarines as we prepared to begin launching transports. They refused to
answer our transmissions and near two hundred battle-brothers were killed by
the traitors before they were beaten back.

The Primarch will require immediate notification of this incident, but we have
not been able to establish communications with the Legion or Terra for
approximately six months. I would enquire about the state of your own
communications systems.

Funaho paused and turned to her officers, putting the connection on hold. She asked, "Well, it is official. They're World Eaters. Pre-heresy World Eaters who think they still work for the Emperor."

The priest next to her said, "Would you rather they threaten us with death?"

Funaho then said, "True. But how do we tell them their Primarch turned to evil, as did the whole of their host? They would surely think us madmen, tricksters of Chaos."

The Commissar then said, "Invite them aboard. It is the only way to explain it to them best without trouble."

Funaho turned to the screen and relayed another message to Aurus, saying, "Our communications systems are fine, and perfectly capable of communicating with other systems. But I am afraid there are extenuating circumstances which will preclude communication with your Primarch and the rest of your Legion and which had caused the Ultramarines to attack you. I would humbly ask that you or another of your host come aboard our vessel, for it is the best way to explain the situation--which involves some thousands of years of history, and the most unspeakable of crimes."

The initial reaction to the transmission from the World Eaters was that of panic. The Copen Protectorate had made it mandatory to learn the histories of other galaxies starting at fourth grade, and everyone onboard the Blue Demon had been frantically preparing for a battle.

Well, everyone that wasn't Captain Gloval.

"Everyone, settle down," he ordered. "If these Space Marines were that of Chaos, they would have attacked us by now, and since they haven't, they're obviously not. Maybe we can figure out why they haven't been turned to the service of Warmaster Remiel."

To the commander of the World Eaters, this is Captain Henry Gloval of the SDF-84 Blue Demon, proud fortress-ship of the Copen Protectorate navy. You seem to say that you are servants of the Immortal Emperor of Mankind. This does not match our records, as, according to our computer's database, it stated that the World Eaters Legion, as well as many other Legions, turned to the side of Chaos under the rule of Warmaster Horus sometime between the thirty first and thirty fourth millenia. Please explain to us what you remember, and maybe we can assist you to adapting to the current timeline.

Almost as soon as this transmission had been sent, the SDF-84 received yet another transmission. However, this time it was from the Amazonians.

"Sir," said Lisa. "They're asking us what our current situation is. Should we reply."

"Of course, commander," replied the Captain. "Any help we can get is good enough for military work."

"Aye, sir," was the only reply he received from the tactical officer.

ADV Indiscriminant Justice, this is Commander Lisa Hayes on the SDF-84 Blue Demon of the Copen Protectorate navy. We are currently running on our auxilary generators while we await our main Reflex Furnace Reactor to re-engage, and our ship has received massive external and internal damage. The extent of the damage is too severe for our own resources to handle, and any assistance you can render to us would be greatly appreciated. Be advised: we have received contact from a small group of Space Marines in the area claiming to be of the World Eaters Legion, and they seem to still be under the servitude of the currently deceased Emperor of Mankind. We are taking safety precautions then, and we advise that any assistance you can render us be brought quickly, as we are currently running at fourty percent combat efficiency at this time.

"Well, there you have it." Silas smiled. "They are relics, lost and.... isolated. They are no threat to our supply lines, they most likely only comprise of these ships and now this one world." Tachos clasped his hands behind his back and looked out over the void to the distant vessels.

"Many more races have come here Inquisitor, too much traffic next to our hyperlane is unacceptable. We must establish a perimeter."

"Oh I quite agree captain. That is why we will engage in full diplomatic talks and offer them all the protection they require."

"You intend to inform the Chronosians?"

"I intend to inform our new comers about them." A sly smile curled at one side of the Inquisitors lower lip. "I also note we have some allies present?"

"Indeed, though their political affiliation changes like the tides, we cannot rely on them, too much."

"I agree. Commscan, open another transmission."

I always regret the baring of grave news my friends, but it appears that you lack information and purpose. Your Imperium has fallen, millennia ago. Your God-Emperor is lost in the warp, his physical being destroyed in the bombardment of terra. The Imperium of man no longer exists and has fractured into countless nationstates and star empires, a shadow of mankind's former glory; in *this* Galaxy. We wish for no harm here, our empire spans over sixty-six million populated worlds, we can relinquish one, in the name of peace and co-operation.

You are invited to my vessel, so that we may talk further. Our guns are not trained on you, we seek no battle here.

OOC: Wait..wait..what? I'm not involved but..are you serious? Does that seriously say you have over 60 MILLION planets under your domain? God. We're about the same and I have under a hundred. Ye GODS. What is that, a population ratio of a few hundred people per world? There is no way you would be able to control that much space. Your navy would be stretched too thin.

The same accusations from three differing sources? The implications were enormous, and of course utterly unthinkable, but the thought gnawed at the back of Arius' mind.

Ships became lost in the warp. Entire fleets, lost without trace. Some appeared weeks later, months even... some never at all. The idea struck with the force of a hammerblow, and the huge captain stumbled back, clawing at the lectern to keep himself upright. The entire bridge crew were staring at him, as though their very sanity hinged upon his denial of the aliens' words.

"Open..." he stammered, "open a channel to the surface..."

---

Sith
I am Battle-Captain Remismund of the World Eaters Legion. I will be arriving
aboard your vessel from the planet, please prepare a landing bay.

Hailung
I am Brother-Chaplain Visimar of the World Eaters Legion. I will be arriving
aboard your vessel from the planet, please prepare a landing bay.

Copen
I am Brother-Sergeant Marcomir of the World Eaters Legion. I will be arriving
aboard your vessel from the planet in order to better discuss this matter.
Please prepare a landing bay.

Blah Blah Blah. My opinion of FT populations can be found here and in other threads detailing the situation. Disagree, agree, I don't really care, but unless you want to take part in the thread, ask me about such things OOCly instead of going off topic.

http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=12408919&postcount=7

If you wish to ask for more information, talk to me on MSN or via TG.


"Well, we have perked their interest." Silas said with interest. "Commscan send them a confirmation signal and give them permission to arrive in docking bay two."

"How shall we greet them?" Tachos asked.

"We cannot assemble our storm troopers, they will only look weak next to the space marines, nor can we greet them with nothing lest we insult them. How many walkers are on board?"

"Four All terrain's." Tachos looked to the commodore for confirmation. "Yes, four, and several of the AT-ST's."

"Good, assemble them in the main hanger, along with sixty storm troopers. Enough to perform an honour guard, but not enough to distract from our war machines." The Inquisitor moved towards the hyperlift. "Captain, meet with us in one hour once our guest has arrived." Tachos nodded in agreement as a young officer from commscan looked up surprised.

"Captain, Inquisitor. Their shuttle will be here in five minutes."

"Well, I had best go down to meet our guest." Silas entered the hyperlift and descended towards the bowels of the star destroyer.

OOC: Trailers, Sith roleplays as the entire Galactic Empire of Star Wars lore. This is accepted by all who roleplay with him, and is far preferable to a shoddy NS variant of the proper thing. Contribute, or please be quiet.

IC:

The Thunderhawk Gunship Domianus cruised silently high above the nameless world. To port, the Emperor's Light and the other ships of the company hung suspended in nothingness, their hulls stark white against the pitch black of space.

To her fore, the looming spearhead-shape of the xenos vessel could be clearly distinguished. Powerful weaponry nested in it's turret bays, and the half-seen crackling of an energy shield boasted of a technologically-advanced race.

Guided by coordinates already recieved, the Domianus sped underneath the ship to it's docking bay. It penetrated a molecular shield, entering the gleaming white interior of the craft. Boiling steam hissed from hydraulics as the Thunderhawk levelled itself to land. Finally it lay at rest, and a few seconds passed before the nose ramp began to lower with a grinding of gears. It struck the deck with a hard clang, and her passengers began to emerge.

First among them was Brother-Captain Remismund, senior amongst the company's commanders and leader of the operation.

OOC: Not to be whiny, but I did send a reply back--its probably moot now, but still...

OOC: So sorry. The number of people who responded threw me off a little. One of those Thunderhawks was intended for you :rolleyes:

Edited for correctness.

Hanger Bay, Imperial Star Destroyer Repression

Commissar Ibram Cain stood at the rear of High Inquisitor Silas' retinue of hangers on and other Inquisition members. Cain had been seconded to Silas' command by order of Commissar-Marshal Xavier, one of the liason officers who was always in continual contact with Imperial Center and the Imperial Inquisition. Cain's purpose of being there was to act as a Thrashian conduit, making sure that Thrashian interests, as well as the Empires, were satisfied.

The discovery of these lost Space Marines had been tremendous to Cain. He had only seen them once, at a muster of Chronosian Chaos Marines. While they had reveled in the chaotic fury that was they namesake, these marines basked in an almost reverent holiness. The first one to walk down the thunderhawks ramp wore authority like a cloak, a sense of righteousness hung like a halo about his regal head.

Commissar Cain, his red armored uniform hidden by his night-black long coat, felt in a small way diminished. He adjusted his peaked cap and watched as the tall World Eater space marine came to a halt before the smaller form of Inquisitor Silas.

Silas stood silently, brazenly even against the jets of gasses that erupted from the incoming vessel. Flanked by storm troopers on either side, and dominated by a landscape of Imperial Walkers the Inquisitor waited for the space marines to disembark. "Quite theatrical." Silas remarked to Commissar Cain. "I always do enjoy these ventures." The escaping gases engulfed the robes of Silas causing them to bellow in the usually stagnant atmosphere of the Star Destroyer. "Yes, very theatrical." The ramp of the Thunderhawk lowered revealing a marching conclave of space marines. At the front, stood a tall warrior, seemingly more so than his genetic brethren, helmet held in hand.

"I am First Captain Remismund."

"And I am High Inquisitor Silas, political officer of this region." The Imperial smiled as his mind stretched out with the force. ... suspicion, confusion, fear, anger..... It was all there. "Quite impressive First Captain, I always forget how big a space marine is, until I see him with my own eyes. Oh." Silas turned slightly introducing the robed Thrashian behind him. "This is Commissar Cain, he will be joining us while we... chat."

Venet reviewed the reply from the Blue Demon quickly.

"Send another comm back, we'll send the Torch over to go see what they can do with 'er," said Venet.

"Comms open, cap'n."

~"This is the Justice. Our fleet's patrol craft has supplies and worker drones that may be able to alleviate your situation. We'll send them over now, and see what the natives of this system have to say about being of the World Eaters..."~

With that, the patrol craft ADV Undying Torch broke formation with the other three ships, breaking into full sublight as it shot off towards the Blue Demon. To get back to the supposed Space Marines, Venet prepared another transmission for them, quickly sending it open-commed to those claiming to be of the World Eaters.

~"Attention indigenous inhabitants of this system: please identify yourselves. This is the Amazonian cruiser ADV Indiscriminate Justice, on recon patrol when we stumbled across your system."~

Venet closed the link before turning back to his comms officer.

"We have a lot of people here-send a quick comm to command. See if they can get someone more...qualified...out here to see what they can do."

"Copy sir."

Another transmission went back to high command, sent regarding the situation and the escalation of forces in the area. Nothing big was being sent, however-simply a Nexu starship, carrying a more "capable" diplomat on the way to alleviate any contact that would be made.

Remismund gave a short nod of acknowledgement. He was grateful that the aliens had proven to be human, but their manner and technology was not that he had been accustomed to.

"If you wish to lead on, Inquisitor," said the towering marine. "I would discuss this in privacy."

---

On Galthir, the congregation of humans watching the space marines had grown by hundreds. Some children had been firmly ousted from the vicinity of the ships without a word, and carried toward the crowd before being released. It was obvious that these men did not waste time on words, and no parent allowed their young too close.

Their world ravaged after five thousand years of isolation and technological devolution, the Galthir had nothing remaining that might have picked up any transmission.

Silas agreed and looked to the array of ranked warriors closely flanking the First Captain. "You may bring one guardian with you." Silas generously offered before turning towards the double doors far off the hanger. The walk was normal and, some would see it as boring. Conversation was non existent with the Inquisitor and Commissar leading the way. Passing through two large blast doors he led the guests to a large side room, used for meetings such as these. Still close to the docking bay, and the bulk of Stormtroopers and droids on board the warship.

Entering, the room was large but not overtly grand. Just like other rooms the empire uses for diplomatic conversations their stood an Obsidian table in the centre, with chairs all around. "Please take a seat." Silas motioned to a few chairs specially made for Astartes. "Now, what would you like to talk about." The crimson robed Inquisitor clasped hands, and kept eye contact.

Sergeant Marcomir, this is SDF-84 control. Our external landing strip is available when you are ready, and a flight of Valkyrie variable fighters will escort you in beginning at twenty kilometers from our ship. Once they have made formation with you, please do not deviate from the course they provide. You'll be landing in the midst of our repairation efforts and we don't want and accident to happen.

Preparations for the Space Marines' arrival were hastily made, as hundreds of men and dozens of Destroids, Valkyries, and Regult battle pods were formed into a rather mishapen, yet strangely functional and sight-appeasing, red-carpet honour guard.

In order, the appearance of the honour guard is as follows:

First and second companies (the closest companies to where the Space Marine Thunderhawk would be brought below the main flight deck) were composed mostly of humans, with Tau, Eldar, and anthromorph animals playing the minorities in each company. Both companies were fifty strong each, and ten men consisted of one squad. Each squad's colours varied slightly, but they maintained the same standard colour scheme of the company. Each man in the company was armed with the standard Pulse Rifle, which looked massive in the hands of these men, and to the Space Marines, these two companies would probably look like better kept, better organized Imperial Guardsmen.

Third and fourth companies consisted of Sangheili Elites. Each company of these Elites were assembled in the same manner as first and second companies, but they were easier to discern in rank. Basic grunt Elites wore blue armour, whilst the sergeant of each ten man squad wore red armour. However, one difference to the first squad of each company was that the leader wore white armour, denoting that he was captain of the company. Finally, to add more ferocity to the companies, two pairs of Hunters flanked each company. They were much bulkier in comparison to the Elites, and their armour was much thicker, although there were some obvious weak spots inbetween their upper and lower armour. The most obvious part of the Hunters was that they carried an imbedded, large-caliber gun in one arm, and in the other arm, they carried a massive, thick shield.

Fifth and sixth companies were composed of Tau Fire Warriors, with eight Tau per squad. Seventh and eighth companies were composed of Eldar Dire Avengers, with ten men per squad. Finally, ninth and tenth squads consisted of Protoss Zealots, who were the tallest amongst the warriors, standing nearly a head taller than a Space Marine. Their arm-mounted psi-blades were active, showing that they, too, carried some form of weapon, and each of their squads consisted of twelve men each.

At the far end of the welcoming committee stood Captain Henry Gloval, flanked by four Spartan-II super soldiers, two fifty-foot-tall Zentradi warriors(which would look like super-sized humans to the Space Marines), four Destroid Tomahawk battlesuits (which vaguely resembled Titans and nearly matched the height of the Zentradi), and two Valkyrie variable fighters in Battroid mode.

If this wasn't a good welcoming committee, Gloval didn't know what would be.

Remismund sat in one of the large chairs, though Sergeant Volusian, who had accompanied him from the hangar, chose to stand, as was fitting. The Captain was visibly uneasy, a rare thing for a space marine, but the ideas he was entertaining could turn his entire world and system of belief on it's head.

"You say my Emperor is dead," he stated.

---

The Thunderhawk touched down aboard the ship known as 'SDF-84', and Sergeant Marcomir, accompanied by four of his brother Astartes, descended the exit ramp.

The multitude of aliens disgusted him. Every species save orks, it seemed, but all no better. The concentrated military force present was sufficient to earn his grudging respect, though not favour.

Marcomir stalked past the files of xenos, headed toward the obvious welcoming delegate, a human accompanied by four tall, armoured soldiers.

"I never said that he was dead." Silas said with a respectful tone. "More that he was no longer on Terra. Perhaps he is in the warp as we speak, fighting the chaos demons of Khrone and Nurgle, all that I can tell you for sure is that Terra, now commonly known as Earth, no longer is under the control of the Imperium of man. In fact." Silas activated a holographic display. "There is only a few fleeting bastions of the Imperium left, that we know of." A few star systems blinked blue, others a larger majority red. "Most I regret to inform you are isolationist, or under the scourge of chaos. Either way, what you once knew, is now, dead." Silas paused. "Oh the red, sadly as I'm sure you have noticed are systems and clusters dominated by chaos."

The single Amazonian ship was immediately targetted by the five ARMD ships, and just as soon as they were training their weapons upon the ship, a single command brought the ships back to neutral defensive status.

This is Commander Hayes to the incoming Amazonian ship. I apologize for the hostility. The five flanking ships are automated, and I had not prepared them for your arrival. Please align yourselves to our port side and land atop our port side landing strip. We will have vehicles awaiting to receive supplies.

"Chaos!" spat Remismund, starting to his feet. The room was bathed in a blood-red glow, illuminated by the holo-display. The fragments of blue were few and far between. Isolated from each other.

"But the Chaos filth cannot match the Astartes!" he said, staring at the huge crimson display. "No bastion, no fortress, no world held by space marines would fall to the depraved, shambolic hordes they spawn! How could this vile act have happened?"

"I would begin by theorising that the Astartes fell to chaos?" Silas suggested trying not to sound too patronising. "But I am afraid that the Astartes are now a rare form in this universe. The Empire knows very little about the history and fall of the Imperium of Man, we are after all, not from this Galaxy, and normally care very little for extinct civilisations; or almost extinct depending on your point of view." Silas flickered the holographic projection to a depiction of his home Galaxy while he waited for the First Captain to regain his composure.

The Thunderhawk touched down aboard the ship known as 'SDF-84', and Sergeant Marcomir, accompanied by four of his brother Astartes, descended the exit ramp.

The multitude of aliens disgusted him. Every species save orks, it seemed, but all no better. The concentrated military force present was sufficient to earn his grudging respect, though not favour.

Marcomir stalked past the files of xenos, headed toward the obvious welcoming delegate, a human accompanied by four tall, armoured soldiers.

The Spartan to the Captain's far right then barked out a call. "Ah-ten-shun!"

Almost in perfect unison, the entirety of the welcoming committee brought themselves to a proper stance, holding their weapons to their sides in respect to the mighty warriors before them.

With this done, the Captain stepped forth, offering a salute to the mighty warriors before him.

"It is an honour to meet the warriors of the Emperor," said the Captain. "My name is Captain Henry Gloval, and in the name of the Copen Protectorate, I humbly welcome you to my ship."

No sooner had he stopped speaking than a large, circular platfrom floated over from seemingly nowhere, and the Captain and his four Spartans stepped onto it. The Captain motioned for the Space Marines to step onto the platform as well.

"Please, come with me. We have much to discuss." The look on the Captain's face was that of authority, and he had an air of pride as he spoke.

~"Copy that, Hayes. ADV Undying Torch moving in for supply exchange."~

The ship moved in to the port side, manuevering thrusters jetting the small capital ship into position along the vessel. In the Torch's supply bays, the cargo units were prepped for a last time-plenty of variants of fuel types, worker drone droids, repair materials, and other supplies that would likely be of use to any repair job.

~"Copy that, Hayes. ADV Undying Torch moving in for supply exchange."~

The ship moved in to the port side, manuevering thrusters jetting the small capital ship into position along the vessel. In the Torch's supply bays, the cargo units were prepped for a last time-plenty of variants of fuel types, worker drone droids, repair materials, and other supplies that would likely be of use to any repair job.

Below the Amazonian ship, hundreds of smaller, magnetized convoy trucks were waiting for the incoming shipment. With them, several Valkyrie variable fighters in their Gerwalk modes (kind of a hybrid between a man and a fighter plane) were also waiting to guide any external-repair vehicles to where they were needed most.

As soon as the Amazonian ship was docked with the SDF-84, they'd begin their work.

OOC: So sorry. The number of people who responded threw me off a little. One of those Thunderhawks was intended for you :rolleyes:

Edited for correctness.

I'm just plain waiting for one. A reply that is.

I'm just plain waiting for one. A reply that is.

OOC: Same: I hit you with a message, Lost.
No rush, but if some time your guys could respond it'd be great.

OOC: Sorry, Shar. I suppose I blanked it due to the mass of German, or just expected someone else to answer.

I'd ask that I could assume the language was not recognised, to explain the lack of response.

With regards to Amaz, I did make a relevant reply, though it was small and did not actually contain the words 'Amazonian Beasts', so might not have registered with you.

Here's the link, Amaz. Lower half of the post.
http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=12534213&postcount=26

No more posting for me tonight.

OOC: Righto then, continuing harrassment in German. Because it's uncool to have Germans speaking English for no apparent reason. :p

Hailung
I am Brother-Chaplain Visimar of the World Eaters Legion. I will be arriving
aboard your vessel from the planet, please prepare a landing bay.


The fighter bay of the Farnsworth's was cleared to let in the Thunderhawk. An honor guard of Armsmen stood at attention, and the Lady Imperiatrix herself rushed to make the appropriate greeting.

It was the only possible answer. The only way that the Emperor's finest warriors could have been vanquished, was by their own kin. Remismund calmed himself to speak, and asked;

"Who fell?"

---

Sergeant Marcomir stepped onto the platform, his four brother marines following.

---

Visimar's Thunderhawk landed in the fighter bay of the Imperial vessel. The design was reassuringly familiar, though with subtle differences. The exit ramp opened, revealing a fearsome figure in jet-black armour, decorated with skull icons and carrying his crozius before him as he led his brother marines from their craft.

Brother-Chaplain Visimar was a veteran of a thousand battlefields. He carried a skull-helm under his left arm, and his scarred face bore testimony to his service to the God-Emperor. Thirty World Eaters followed him, their blades drawn in respect, and they formed into two ranks behind their chaplain with perfect discipline and efficiency. Their ceramite soles crashed against the deck with cacophonous noise.

The Chaplain stood before them, facing the welcoming party, and lowered his crozius in respect.

"I am Brother-Chaplain Visimar of the World Eaters Legion. Sons of the God-Emperor, praise His name!"

The assembled marines gave a great warrior-shout that filled the hangar, once, twice, and thrice, before lowering their weapons to their sides.

((From here on, the convo between Gloval and Marcomir is souly SIC.))

As the five Marines stepped onto the platfrom, it rose from where it had landed, and quite as suddenly as it had appeared, it lifted up from the ground and flew its way deeper into the ship.

The ship was massive on the interior. Everything was made to fit both Micronians and Zentradi (micronians being anything that is less than half the height of a Zentradi), and the passageways were nearly one hundred meters in height. All along the passageways, Zentradi and Micronians worked diligently on their tasks, repairing the ship or working on some part of the ship's sub-systems, and there were many large holes in the passages, obviously caused by high-powered explosives of some kind. Ork and Micronian corpses littered the floors of the passages, with few Zentradi corpses spread out amongst them. Broken machinery of both Micronian and Orky designs were strewn about amongst the corpses, and salvage drones worked diligently to recover what metal and machinery they could use in the repair efforts on the ship.

Along the way, medical personnel and soldiers looked through the bodies, rescuing those who could be saved, collecting what weapons and ammo were available, and killing any Ork who had not died. The platform flew past a small skirmish between Elites, Hunters, and Orks, and the Orks were losing quickly to the better-trained melee combatants. It didn't really help the Orks that their opponents had large battering rams in the form of the Hunters and that the Elites had plasma swords. Just as the platform was turning a corner, the last sight the passengers would see would be several squads of Zealots and Fire Warriors moving to assist the Elites and Hunters.

"I apologize for the mess," said Gloval. "We were ambushed not too long ago, and our ship is rather large, making it difficult to repel the Orks that had managed to board the ship."

The floating platform made a few turns, and the various corridors they flew through had their own events, ranging from repair work to light and moderate skirmishes between Orks and Micronians. There was even an amusing event going on towards the end of their journey as three Zentradi tried desparately to capture a Squiggoth. It sort of resembled three hunters trying to capture a wild boar, as they used tactics to have the Squiggoth charge them, and they'd grab it by its tusks and try to tackle it and restrain it. After about three attempts, they finally managed to hog-tie the Squiggoth using steel cables, and they quickly dragged it off out of sight. Soon after this event, the platform landed before a set of double-doors, and the four Spartan guards descended from the ramp, using an advance tactic to make sure that there were no surprises in store for the Captain and his guests within the conference room.

Once they were sure it was clear, they motioned for the Captain and his guests to come inside, and the Captain wasted no time doing so. As soon as he was inside, he motioned for the five Space Marines to take a seat in front of his slightly larger 'honourary' Captain's chair, and he moved casually to the larger chair and sat down. Before the six chairs was a circular display panel that showed a hologram of a computer desktop.

"So," said the Captain. "Tell me what you last remember before being trapped within the Warp. I assume you and your Brothers were, as that could be the only explaination as to why you still believe the Imperium of Man still exists today."

Visimar's Thunderhawk landed in the fighter bay of the Imperial vessel. The design was reassuringly familiar, though with subtle differences. The exit ramp opened, revealing a fearsome figure in jet-black armour, decorated with skull icons and carrying his crozius before him as he led his brother marines from their craft.

Brother-Chaplain Visimar was a veteran of a thousand battlefields. He carried a skull-helm under his left arm, and his scarred face bore testimony to his service to the God-Emperor. Thirty World Eaters followed him, their blades drawn in respect, and they formed into two ranks behind their chaplain with perfect discipline and efficiency. Their ceramite soles crashed against the deck with cacophonous noise.

The Chaplain stood before them, facing the welcoming party, and lowered his crozius in respect.

"I am Brother-Chaplain Visimar of the World Eaters Legion. Sons of the God-Emperor, praise His name!"

The assembled marines gave a great warrior-shout that filled the hangar, once, twice, and thrice, before lowering their weapons to their sides.


The Armsmen twirled their rifles, and fired a ceremonial 21-gun salute, with blank charges. Then the Lady Imperatrix and her retinue saluted the Marines, bowed, and then the Lady said, "Honored Brother-Chaplain Visimar. I am Lady Imperiatrix Funaho Murasaki, Honorable Servant of the Immortal Emperor, commander of the Dominion of Hailung, bastion of the Imperium of Man. It is indeed an honor to meet men of your status. Come, the time is short, and I am not eager to seperate from your comrades--after all, there is a host of xenos outside who don't look happy to see one another."

She then bade them to follow her.

Marcomir spoke, repeating what he had been told by superiors.

"We were en route to the planet that our fleet now orbits. Entry into the empyrean had proceeded as smoothly as such an event can, but six months into the journey we were attacked by a number of Astartes vessels bearing the colours of the Ultramarines.

"We issued several communication attempts, but to no avail. As soon as the ships were within range, they opened fire. We responded in kind as soon as we could, but not without losing several escorts. The majority of our fleet escaped into the warp, and after reaching our target world, prepared to deploy to the surface.

"The Ultramarines had followed in our wake, and attacked again. Nearly two hundred of our brothers were lost to their traitorous fire as they descended in transport vessels, but the Ultramarines were again beaten back. We had been out of contact with the Legion while in the warp, and have thus far not been able to reestablish contact.

"This was where we found each other."

---

Visimar followed, alone.

Visimar followed, alone.

As Visimar followed her, she led him into a lift, which would take the party to a meeting room where she would discuss the terrible events in earnest. She did however, begin with one of the things everybody else was logically asking. She asked, "Brother-Chaplain, as far as you know, what is the date?"

Marcomir spoke, repeating what he had been told by superiors.

"We were en route to the planet that our fleet now orbits. Entry into the empyrean had proceeded as smoothly as such an event can, but six months into the journey we were attacked by a number of Astartes vessels bearing the colours of the Ultramarines.

"We issued several communication attempts, but to no avail. As soon as the ships were within range, they opened fire. We responded in kind as soon as we could, but not without losing several escorts. The majority of our fleet escaped into the warp, and after reaching our target world, prepared to deploy to the surface.

"The Ultramarines had followed in our wake, and attacked again. Nearly two hundred of our brothers were lost to their traitorous fire as they descended in transport vessels, but the Ultramarines were again beaten back. We had been out of contact with the Legion while in the warp, and have thus far not been able to reestablish contact.

"This was where we found each other."

Captain Gloval listened intently to Sergeant Marcomir, taking in every word that was spoken. After about a minute after the Space Marine had finished speaking, Gloval took in a deep breath, and then let it out in the only way he knew.

An explaination of events.

"Much had transpired during your fleet's travel to this planet. It also entails why the Ultramarines attacked you without warning. Our records, while somewhat cobbled together, tell us that, between the thirty first and thirty fourth millenia, the Emperor's favoured son, Warmaster Horus, partaked in a Chaos ritual during an invasion of a planet. What happened that day is anyone's guess, but in the longrun, he convinced your legion, as well as his own and seven others, to join him in a Crusade against the Emperor.

"Our records indicated that Sanguiness of the Blood Angels and Rouboute Guilliman of the Ultramarines were asked by Horus to join him, but they refused to fall to his obvious treachery and informed the Emperor of his doings."

Gloval sighed, leaning back in his chair.

"The most that we know at this point is that, when Horus arrived at Earth, or Terra, as you call it, he struck down the Emperor, who was not willing to kill his favored son, and as Horus went to strike the final blow, Sanguiness sacrificed himself to save the Emperor. When the Emperor saw Horus strike his own brother down, he knew what had to be done. How he managed to destroy Horus is beyond even our comprehension, but in by doing so, he forced the nine traitorous legions back into the Warp to their fell masters. Those that we know are part of the traitorous legions are the Iron Warriors, the Thousand Sons, and...the World Eaters..."

Gloval obviously did not like having to say that to the Sergeant in front of him. He knew the impact it would have for them to know that their own Primarch had turned against everything they still stood for and knew.

"Kommandant, haben sie nicht reagiert. Ich bin sicher, daß bis zum dieser Zeit sie unsere Anzeige empfangen haben."

"Versuchen Sie, einigen mit der anderen Behälter dann in Verbindung zu treten. Lokalisieren Sie die Gruppen, die auf Design basieren und verweisen Sie eine Anzeige auf jedes."

"Ja geben Kommandant, mir gerade die gesendeten Anzeigen eines Momentes...Anzeigen gesendet."

This time, broadcasting in thickly accented(strangely, it was an accent bearing more in common with Russia than Germany), but recognizable English, the Admiral again sent out his message.

This is Shranona Dreadnought Withered Harvest, und I am Admiral Hans Brasche, Sharonan Space Navy. I vould like to speak to any und all political bodies represented here. Peaceful contact between our several narions is my greatest desire, und anything to strengthen the Vaterland is my goal. I avait your reply.

The image of the Admiral was an impressive one. Standing nearly 180 centimeters, and garbed in the jet black of the Navy, he still wore the silver lightning flashes, the Zig rune of Naval Intelligence. Jackbooted marines in dress uniforms were visible behind him, displaying sleek weapons of an unknown, but menacing make. His own sidearm was unique, being the only particle gun of its size still in use on any vessel. This marked him as unique. His uniform boasted an impressive array of medals and campaign ribbons, including one that was only held by three other living men, none of them active duty. Admiral Hans Brasche was something in the realm of 300 years old, no one was precisely sure exactly when he had been born, including himself at this point, but he had already been a man at the time of the Portal Wars, and was just barely young enough to take advantage of the rejuvenation treatments when they had become available. He was the single surviving active duty soldier of a war that had spanned a thousand worlds, and his uniform spoke volumes about exactly what kind of officer he was.

"Two hundred and seventh day, thirteenth year, thirty-first millenium," replied Visimar, without hesitation.

---

Marcomir paid close attention to Gloval's words. He waited with his gloved palms pressed together, and chose his reply carefully.

"I... think I believe you," he said. "I saw the Primarch on Ghenna, where he personally commanded the entire Legion in a night of butchery. A whole world died in a night as we slaughtered people in the streets and in their homes, drunk on blood.

"I don't think he was himself then, nor before it. The Emperor didn't command Angron, he merely gave him enemies, and Angron would annihilate them.

"It saddens me that Sanguinius is dead. He was... a glorious warrior."

---

Withered Harvest, this is the Emperor's Light, a vessel of the World Eaters
Legion of the Adeptus Astartes. State your intentions.

Gloval nodded. "I am not entirely surprised, but what has happened has happened, and nothing can be done to fix it." The Captain sighed, rubbing at his left temple, before flipping a switch upon the desk in front of him. A large hologram appeared on the table, showing the dark, sadistic face of a man in Space Marine powered armour.

"This is the current leader of the Chaos forces," said Gloval. "His name is Remiel, Emperor and Warmaster of the Chaos Imperium of Man. He is considered to be the chosen warrior of the Dark Gods, but we merely see him as a threat to the universe. One that should be removed so that no creature may fear the taint of Chaos." Gloval flipped the switch again, removing the image from the desk.

"As a representative of the Copen Protectorate, I offer you and your untainted brothers a once in a lifetime chance. Our leader, Supreme Commander Feronen Selinorasi, is planning a major invasion of Chaos held territory." Gloval leaned towards the Marines. "If you join us in defeating them, you may yet have a chance to take vengeance against those who destroyed all that you held dear."

Traitor. Heretic. Daemon.

Marcomir's bubbling anger flared as he saw the face of his enemy. Adorned in blasphemous runes and with crooked smile, the Chosen of Chaos leered from the image, taunting from within his holographic prison, insubstantial and untouchable.

Marcomir stood, his fingertips on the table.

"I must speak with my brothers," he stated, allowing no objection. The five marines left the room, whispering speech passing between them.

---

It was not long before Marcomir returned. In his fist he clenched the naked blade of a long combat knife, the steel biting deeply into his scarred flesh. He gripped it harder, dribbling blood showing between his fingers.

"I speak only for myself and the four who accompany me," said Marcomir, blanking the growing pain as he grasped the handle of the combat knife with his other hand. "When I say that we will follow you so long as you lead to the death of traitors."

"We swear this by our own blood," he snarled, and drew the blade through his flesh. Scarlet blood fell like an obscene rain onto the table at which he had sat only minutes before, but the grim-faced marine showed nothing.

"Two hundred and seventh day, thirteenth year, thirty-first millenium," replied Visimar, without hesitation.

The Lady Imperiatrix quickly shot back, "That is no longer the case, I am afraid. It is now, by the reckoning of the Administratum offices in Hailung IV, the Ninetieth day, the forty-first millenium."

The lift opened up, leading Funaho and her guest down a hallway. As she led him down the turns and eventually got close to one of the briefing rooms, she told Visimar with a plaintive voice, "I am sorry to mention this, but in no uncertain terms, but we have not been able to contact Terra for a while. Indeed, may the Immortal Emperor curse me for saying this; but judging from the reports of my exploration fleets abroad and my own travels....I must say that the territories I command is the sole remnant of the Imperium of Man."

Traitor. Heretic. Daemon.

Marcomir's bubbling anger flared as he saw the face of his enemy. Adorned in blasphemous runes and with crooked smile, the Chosen of Chaos leered from the image, taunting from within his holographic prison, insubstantial and untouchable.

Marcomir stood, his fingertips on the table.

"I must speak with my brothers," he stated, allowing no objection. The five marines left the room, whispering speech passing between them.

---

It was not long before Marcomir returned. In his fist he clenched the naked blade of a long combat knife, the steel biting deeply into his scarred flesh. He gripped it harder, dribbling blood showing between his fingers.

"I speak only for myself and the four who accompany me," said Marcomir, blanking the growing pain as he grasped the handle of the combat knife with his other hand. "When I say that we will follow you so long as you lead to the death of traitors."

"We swear this by our own blood," he snarled, and drew the blade through his flesh. Scarlet blood fell like an obscene rain onto the table at which he had sat only minutes before, but the grim-faced marine showed nothing.

Captain Gloval stood, saluting the Sergeant. "Then, by the power vested in me by the Senate, I hereby welcome the World Eaters Space Marine Legion in joining us in our Crusade against Chaos. Let us destroy the common enemy which we have, so that we may not only save mankind, but all living creatures who are threatened by its taint in this world." Gloval leaned over, retrieving a small holoprojector, and he then handed it to Marcomir.

"Show your superiors this holopad," he said. "It contains all of the data we have on the Chaos Imperium, and it may prove to assist you in convincing your brothers to join with us as well. Bring as many who are still loyal to the Emperor with you as you can, for we shall soon drive deep into the heart of their territory, and we shall rid the universe of them once and for all!" Gloval slammed his hand onto the desk with force enough to crack it, which then caused Marcomir's blood to slowly drip into the crack.

Withered Harvest, this is the Emperor's Light, a vessel of the World Eaters
Legion of the Adeptus Astartes. State your intentions.

"Weltesser? Häretiker. Verdammt. Warum sind sie hier und sprechen als Astartes?"

"Kommandant, möglicherweise sind sie im Warp verfangen worden. Schiffe bekannt, um für Jahrhunderte zu verschwinden und ohne Warnung wieder zu erscheinen. Konnte dieses nicht mehr vomselben sein?"

"Möglicherweise. Er macht nicht aus, sind sie hier, und wir sind außerdem. Wir sprechen mit ihnen."

Our desire is for contact, preferably amicable, between our peoples. Beyond that we have little to offer, until more is know concerning the exact situation.

a 16 ship impreial armarda exited the warp the 4 battle barges bringing up the rear the wrath of terra commed the other ships of the group foul chaos forces detetected objective destroy them

coms to world eater vessel tratiors hear my words and hear them well said brother libarian fury i will end you for the glory of the imperium

a 16 ship impreial armarda exited the warp the 4 battle barges bringing up the rear the wrath of terra commed the other ships of the group foul chaos forces detetected objective destroy them

coms to world eater vessel tratiors hear my words and hear them well said brother libarian fury i will end you for the glory of the imperium

((I glare at you.))

A response was quick to reach the forces of Sephiroth.

This is the SDF-84 Blue Demon. You are apparently unaware as to what the situation is like at the moment. These World Eaters are the last untainted Space Marines to even exist, and by attacking them, you'd be branding yourselves as traitors. Let it be known that the Copen Protectorate will endeavour to defend them from any attack, and if any Sephirothian ship attempted to harm them, the consequences shall be dire.

The Copen Protectorate felt that it needed to actually SAY something. In Sharona, it was felt that actions spoke much louder than words. Specifically, the action of a three kilometer long Dreadnought, and all of her escorts, training every gun with a decent line of sight onto the Sephrion ships. A similar, but unnoticed target acquisition occurred with the torpedo tubes of the small task force. While lacking the sheer brutal firepower of the larger Union Superdreadnought, the Sharona Dreadnought was a formidable class, and when a round dozen massive particle beams tracked onto a single ship, many officers tended to rethink their hasty actions.

"Verfluchte Idioten, innen in der Nähe laufend ohne Gedanken für jedermann, das Gewehren haben konnte..."

"Ja, Kommandant. Söhne der Schweine denken selten Sachen durch."

"Traurig, aber richten Sie aus. Wenn sie blinken, zerstören Sie sie."

OOC: The only translation that matters is the last one:

"Sad, but true. If they blink, destroy them."

Sharonan Reply:

Sohn eines kranken Hundes und der leprösen Dirne, you have made it our quarrel. Your presence is neither wanted, or welcome. Take your toys elsewhere, and watch how you throw around petty insults. The big men are talking about big man things. Go away.

The 7 ships slowly spread into a looser formation, one from which they could readily either defend themselves, and block incoming fire, or rapidly assault the arrogant bastards that dared to order them to do anything.

OOC: It's obvious that Seph's retreated from a bad situation. If it's okay with all concerned, I'll resume.

EDIT: Seph has kindly removed his posts from the thread, and if Copen and Shar could delete theirs interacting with him, we can get this show back on the road. Sorry for the long delay.

IC:

Marcomir gave a nod, not quite a bow, and left. He and the four marines made their way back to the hangar, and boarded their Thunderhawk.

They headed for the Light.

---

Withered Harvest, it has recently been ascertained that this fleet was decreed
Lost in the Warp, circa 013.M31. As such, we are forced to begin a new founding
in this new time, and good relations with other... nations... are required.

Should it be acceptable, a representative of your nation would be welcome to
board the Light, and commence a proper introduction. An honour guard would
be allowed to accompany any diplomat.

Bump for notification of reply.

((Bumping to bring this thread back. C'mon, TLC, I need another competent ally!))