Long ago,
before the fires of the Great Betrayal forever transformed the Imperium,
there was an age undreamed of.
The Age of the Unremembered Empire.
To live in this Age was to not know gods,
To not know half-thought fables
It was to know reason
To live within the realm of wisdom
But it was the time right before the fall
Shadows of catastrophe loom
And great beasts shall stalk the stars
and under their feet
Man shall be in his Darkest Age
To live in this age was to walk under the fleets of the Great Crusade
To see what could have been…
Much of Imperial history has been lost.
Tales of valor innumerable burned before they could be read,
and the knowledge of the Primarchs' Scions was consigned to legend.
Theirs the history of an Imperium, forgotten even as it died…
The Mother Of Sharks
Cold winds, heavy with snow, whistled through the icy canyons of Gomorrah, a mountainous region of Ty'an. The winds surged and ebbed, like a river in the sky, each gust perceptible by the change in pitch of the shrieking mountains.
Ty'an was a small world, with a population of no more than a billion, though it was rapidly growing. A recent discovery of promethium amongst other raw materials for the Great Crusade had turned the backward feral world into a bustling center of Industrial might, for any planet not owned by the mechanicum. Given Primaris attention by the Imperium, Ty'an was outfitted with its own Imperial Army regiment in the event of invasion by the Xenos raiders infesting the Sector. The Imperial Army had eliminated most of them, though the occasional raid was still encountered and crushed with great force. But now, the threat to the resources of Ty'an was an internal one.
They called themselves the Bronze Men, a group of 'freedom fighters' who had assaulted several Imperial Army outposts and seized caches of weapons and several vehicles. Their attempt to seize the city of Hal'tom ended in failure, though that did little to stop them. For years, they attacked Imperial forces, recruiting from the growing body of angry mill workers and disgruntled miners. Things came to a head when rumors of their involvement in an attempt on the Imperial Governor's life warranted the uprooting of the Bronze Men.
As in all wars, things did not proceed as planned. Rather than the swift decisive victory that had been predicted, the world was plunged into violent, bloody war. Mercenary guilds took advantage in the anarchy, raiding Imperial Armories, making off with many weapons and vehicles of war, including a fearsome Baneblade. The final straw for Ty'an's governor came when an Imperial officer, Captain Rycon, defected to the rebels' side. He donned a crown and called himself the Mountain King, and in the shadowy and harsh mountains ringing the valley of Gommorrah, he held court. The governor requested urgent aid, invoking his Primaris status.
The sixth Legion answered. The 10th Great Company of the Space Wolves led by Tyra Russ was sent to destroy of the Bronze Men, and slay their self-appointed king. Many gene-sons of Leman Russ thought the assignment beneath them, though it didn't prevent them from executing their duty any less diligently. Wolf Guard Erwin Lang knew this well. His role as advisor to the young Wolf Lord made him key in this campaign.
He understood the plight they faced, especially the young Blood Claws, ever eager for battle. They would have to wait. The Insurrectionists were hidden within the mountains, difficult to find, even with Orbital Pic Servitor assistance. Roaring laughter sounded behind him as he turned to look over his fellow Wolf Guard.
"-that was then when I took the bastard's head!" Elfradr said, laughing as he finished his story, beer dripping down his long white bread. "I swear by the Wolf King!" he slapped his gauntleted hand on his armored chest as he said it, causing a large clang that accented his drunken sincerity.
"You, alone, fought and killed an Eldar swordsman, after disarming him?" Snidil asked, his young face showing his incredulity. "I can believe kill, the Eldar are as sturdy as a fishing spear, but disarmed!?"
"Aye, when I fought under the Wolf King's son, Asger," Elfradr said defensively, "Svavarr, you remember! You were a part of his assault on the filthy xenos!"
"All I remember is you bragging about a kill... and Asger's pestering!" his Wolf Guard cackled.
"You'd expect a womb-born son of Leman to show some amount of subtlety, he's like a fucking wet nurse," Emund grumbled, his short side burns covered in white snow.
"You shouldn't speak poorly of Lord Asger, he is strong, wise, and he's yet to lose a battle," Erwin reprimanded.
"He's fought only a handful, he's yet to prove himself," Emund argued, "He's always breathing down your neck, like he wants to fuck you." Emund laughed before realizing none of his brothers had joined him, they all were quiet. Emund blinked. "What?"
Warm breath touched the back of his neck, and he heard a feminine voice say, "What's this your feeling now?" Emund knew the voice, knew the tone and the smell of the kennels. He was stunned to silence, and the person behind him continued, "This is me breathing on your neck, and no, this doesn't mean I'm fucking you." There was a pause and a snicker, "Although should we lay it would be me doing the fucking."
Emund finally found his spine and turned, hoping he wouldn't see what he knew he would: his Wolf Lord and commander, Tyra Russ. Her green eyes shone with amusement at his plight, her fanged grin framed by long curly red hair. "Lord, forgive me, I had not-"
"Let me tell you a story," she interrupted, making her way through the assembled Astartes around the campfire – a rare luxury – to sit amongst her Wolf Guard. "When the Wolf King first brought me to the Fang, he showed me all of his weapons. Told me their names, their origins." She spoke as a Rune Priest reciting a Great Epic. "He showed me the Spear of Russ in his hand. I remember his words as if I'd heard them yesterday 'I hate this weapon,' he said, 'I hate it. But that does not mean it is not a good weapon. I prefer the axe or the sword, not a spear. But that does not mean the spear is a bad weapon. It is quick, it is efficient, it will slay your foes.'" She looked into the eyes of each Space Wolf, to see if they'd understood her words. "Remember this: When you are under a Wolf Lord, you may dislike him. You may even hate him. But know that he is a Wolf Lord because he is the best, and he is deserving of his title."
Tyra turned to Emund. "My brother has shown himself to be a great commander. He's made certain to use all of your packs in the best way. He's always paid attention to the needs of every pack. Has my brother ever done your pack wrong?"
Emund shook his head, ashamed. "No, Lord, never. Even when I was a Blood Claw. He always treated my pack with dignity and respect."
Tyra smiled, baring her long fangs. "Good, anyone else wish to say something?" Silence greeted her. "Well, I didn't come here to chastise you. We move soon, the location of the rebel leader has been revealed."
"Finally!" Elfradr exclaimed, "any longer and I'd be scraping rust out of all sorts of places!"
"Where are they?" asked Emund.
Tyra's smile twisted into something feral. She liked enthusiasm. "Two kilometers north. They are on Mount Yarkon, one of the taller peaks. The base is established on one of the plateaus. It will not be a steep climb. Keep in mind, though, we shall be fighting their best. Ordinary man they may be, they can still kill us. Be careful and alert."
The ride was nothing if not typical. They exited their campsite made there way to the mountain ranges were the bronze men 'where'. This wasn't the first time they got a lead, Imperial Intelligence had only guesses to give. Tyra did not expect this expedition to bear any fruit but it was worth a try.
As she sat in her saddle, Belysning following Erwin, the point man of the pack, she begun to think back to her earlier years. She remembered the Fang, in all of it's glory. How marching up those steps felt familiar, yet somehow alien at the same time. She remembered meeting her father, Leman, and the feast that followed.
She couldn't remember what she spoke to him about, but she did remember the emotion. It was happy, joyful even. She never truly felt like she belonged within her tiny village on the edge of a great lord of the north. Even within the confines of her hut with her mother, she felt as if she was not meant to be there. Being in the Hall Of the Wolf King, she felt at home.
She remembered her brothers too. Asger, the oldest and heir, was speaking of his exploits of being a great hunter in the eastern seas. How he wrestled great beats to the ground, ripping their throats out with his bare hands. He even told of the band of warriors he led against a horrid wizard, how he drove his spear through the man's heart, ending his reign of terror.
Balder, the youngest, told fantastic tales of his ventures in the southern 'warmer' lands. How he expertly navigated ships, and battled the terrible storms which would've sunk sunk so many other ships. He spoke of the great sea serpents that infested the sea, and how he slew one with nothing more than a knife and his wits.
Thinking back onto it, it was the last Tyra ever saw of Leman, in person that is. After that he set off for Terra to speak before the Emperor and his council of nobles. Leman made Asger Wolf Regent in his absence. Tyra was sent off to begin her training to learn how to an Astartes.
"Tyra." Erwin's voice was soft as he tapped her shoulder, they were entering enemy territory, the Thunder Wolf pack slowly making its way towards the Bronze Men's position. "Wake up, we're almost there."
" Shit." Was all she felt like saying as she rubbed her face with a gauntleted hand. She hadn't meant to sleep, but somehow, the winds whipping through these crags sung her a lullaby she couldn't resist.
"Are you worried, lord?" Erwin asked, uncertainty plain in his tone.
Tyra chuckled. "Nay, I miss my father is all."
Erwin nodded. "You'll see him soon."
"I-" Her response was cut short as she heard something. Something not of the wild. She held her hand up, and the pack stopped. She listened closer. Repetitive motion. Servos. She sniffed the air. The faint smell of engine exhaust filled the air. "Vehicle." She looked to Aska, at the point of the pack. "Aska, find it! Go! Pack follow."
The pack followed closely behind Aska, their best tracker. Without a rider, she was free to move as fast and as freely as she could. Tyra sniffed the air, the smell of burning promethium was getting stronger. She could easily hear the engine now, the repetitive up-and-down motion of pistons. Cresting the slope, she found herself looking down a snow covered valley. Unlike many that they'd come across before, it wasn't empty. Tyra gave a low whistle, and Aska came to a halt still growing. She'd always been the more aggressive of Tyra's two wolves.
Below her was a sizeable force. At the front was the source of the noise, an Imperial Sentinel walker. Oddly enough, the open-topped vehicle contained a crew of two: one controlling the walker, the other scanning for targets, lasgun in hand. Behind the walker marched about twoscore infantry, armed with lasguns, though a few had heavier weapons; she spotted several flamers and a few 'hotshot' lasguns. Their armor was standard Imperial Army flak armor painted bronze.
"We should bypass them," Erwin suggested, "They have the open field advantage. And if they see us, they may be able to warn the others."
Tyra nodded. "But if we don't eliminate them, we may find ourselves dealing with reinforcements. Makes our escape complicated."
Erwin was silent, lost in thought. "Your choice, Lord."
She spent several silent moments examining them. "They may be more useful alive," she began, "Tracking them could tell us more than that sorry excuse for a guess Imperial Army Intelligence gave us."
The entire time the pack trailed the patrol, Tyra studied them. They moved in a rigid formation, in a way she'd only see the Solar Auxilia move. Not surprising, according to Intelligence, Captain Rycon had been a part of the Solar Auxilia for nearly a decade before he transferred to the 31st Kalaver Regiment for unknown reasons.
As they followed the traitors, the blizzard began to let up. The wolf pack found themselves going up the mountain, rather than around it. The patrol appeared to end at an old mining complex. Tyra had heard reports of several mines being raided during the early years of the insurrection, the miners killed and the resources stripped.
The pack found a vantage point overlooking the complex. There were hundreds of them, Tyra saw, many informations; training, or returning from patrols. Dozens of vehicles arrayed in rows, mechanics working on the various machines. She even saw the stolen Baneblade, the Iron Behemoth. A pair of figures near the massive fuel caches caught her eye: a bored-looking white-swathed human with brown hair cleaning an old ballistic sniper rifle with the ease of many such cleanings, and a large white wolf that looked directly at her before yawning and laying its head on it forepaws.
"We cannot fight them all, Lord," Erwin whispered, "It'd be suicide. We should request support, perhaps-"
"No," Tyra murmured, "I have a better plan."
"What?" Erwin's tone was concerned. "You seriously cannot be thinking of assaulting them?"
Tyra shook her head. "Look again."
Erwin searched the mine entrance once more, his eyes falling on a single human in the white cloak of a winter hunter…near a large cache of promethium. He turned back to see Tyra grinning ferally. "The fire will be a great distraction, no?"
Erwin's grin was equally feral as he nodded. "Aye, the fireworks would be spectacular."
"The promethium should disorganize the entire base. Hopefully, the surrounding ammunition will catch as well. Inform the strike force. Give them our coordinates, and prepare for the assault."