Storm Heralds reading list
Book1 Maledicti Venator, Serrati Stellas, Tenebris Resurget, Finis Fide, Tergum Cultro, Omni Honore, Carpe Posterum, Vacuus Cymba, Noctem Oritur
Book2Umbram Ignis, Ancra Mortis, Fame Cimex, Crux Lapis, Saeva Abyssi
Book3 Captum Ante, Veneum Filos, Locum Ignotum, Domus Discordia
Book4 Cincere Tempestus, Ignis in Vacui, Indomitus, Bellum, Falsa Venum, Redemptio Opus, Diem Infamia
Book5 Speculum Enigmate, Festum Gladius, Incantator Congressus, Armorum Fidei, Extremus Fors, Castrum Perilous
Extract from Imperial Crusades of the Era Indomitus: Vol 1
"We are facing an enemy committed to and consumed by our destruction, an enemy that gives no quarter and deserves none! We shall meet this threat with courage and honour, with unbreakable discipline and unrivalled armaments of war. Our armies are numberless and committed to the fight, our fleets are many and our tactics superior. The new paradigm of Astartes has proven its worth and our new weapons are unmatched in the galaxy. All this you know; you have fought with me through Segmentum Solar and saved the heartlands of our Imperium. And yet the dangers awaiting us cast those battles into insignificance.
Today we set sail for Segmentum Tempestus, to brave the perilous tides and troubled shoals that await us. Enemies within, without and beyond shall confront us, dangers to unmake the sternest of souls, and yet I say unto you that the greatest danger that lies ahead is the darkness that rides with them. Fear, ignorance, the wilful blindness that has bedevilled mankind for ten millennia. This is the true threat we must confront, to cast down the forces of mad unreason and restore rationality and progress to the worlds we shall liberate.
Many shall oppose us. Enemies who wish humanity locked into a state of fear and savagery. Corrupt forces within our Imperium, who prefer the masses remain ignorant and blind. We shall give battle to them all, and break any who wish to drag mankind back into the age of ignorance. Our first step shall be the Cardinal world Sacellum. The vile forces of Chaos have incited a rebellion against the rightful authority of the Imperium and threaten to block the supply line that is the Saint Karyl Trail. This cannot stand. We shall cast down these Traitors with fire and steel and open the way to the galactic south. First Sacellum, then Segmentum Tempestus. For all humanity, and the age of reason that has yet to be, let none oppose us!"
Imperial Regent Roboute Guilliman addressing Fleet Primus at the recommencement of the Indomitus Crusade.
Exitus Ultima Chapter 1
Toran's hearts beat faster as the Land Raider raced along at top speed. A hundred wars had he fought, a thousand bloodsoaked battlefields had he walked, and yet this was different. Incoming fire rattled off Pride of Lujan's hull, motors roaring as the war machine tore towards the enemy and the dark confines of the interior made shaking Holo-displays fizzle with distortion. This too was familiar, but the significance was unlike anything he had ever known. Today the Storm Heralds fought under the eye of their Gene-father; today they stood proud among the ranks of the Indomitus Crusade.
Pride of Lujan screeched to a halt and the assault ramp slammed down to let in the burning light of day. Fierce and hot, without a hint of cloud, the kind of desert sun that would boil the sweat off a man's brow. An intense aroma of salt clogged the nostrils, penetrating his breathing filters and drying out his tongue. Gravity pulled at his limbs, heavier than Terran norms, dragging at his motions. Even in power armour the environment was hostile but he would not let that slow him. Captain Toran gripped his sword tight as he ran into the face of war.
Battle greeted him. To either side deep trenches stretched, filled with ragged enemies. Cultists and mutants dug in and fired heavy weapons at charging Space Marines. Artillery ranged overhead as both sides hammered the other's lines, explosions blooming far and wide. Stormtalon attack craft strafed the enemy's position, destroying Earthshakers in great number and Land Speeders harried the foe, keeping enemy gunners distracted. Yet it was the heart of the line that Toran found himself, leading Third Company into the fray. The right flank was theirs to claim, the rest belonging to the other Companies. The entire Storm Herald Chapter gathered into one charge, a thousand Space Marines, might enough to conquer worlds, all hitting the enemy trenches at the same time.
Toran took all this in at a glance as he yelled, "Engage at will, Assault Marines and Inceptors range deep, Battleline and Fire Support squads follow and exploit gaps in the line. Leave no enemy alive, for Terra and the Living Primarch!" A hearty cheer came from the Brothers but Toran was already pressing his own attack. In his hands the Sword of Thiel shone bright as he dove into a trench, plunging it into the first mutant he encountered. The scabrous thing wailed as its heart was carved out, only to fall as he drew back and swiped his blade across the three behind. The relic sword cleaved them apart and they fell in pieces, dropping lasguns and autoguns unfired.
Toran cleared a space with his bold charge but the enemy rallied. From both ends of the line came a wave of filthy mutants, they wore blue robes marked with runes of Chaos and bayonet lugs, anger in their eyes and hatred in their hands as they rushed the Captain. Toran was flanked, but he did not fight alone. A cry of defiance arose as Lieutenant Persion dove into the left, his Friction Axe burning bright in an Augmetic arm. His bulk shattered the charge and his axe made a ruin of flesh as he chopped mutants apart, leaving the rest to stagger in dismay, open to follow-up killing blows. To the right hails of Bolt rounds decimated the charging cultists, concentrated bursts of Aggressor fire. The towering Primaris emerged from Pride of Lujan's hold and swept the enemy with torrential firepower. They were directed by Lieutenant Smyth, the Primaris holding a bluesteel sword in one hand and the Company banner in the other. With crisp precision he directed the slaughter, wasting not a round as they secured the first trench.
Five seconds had passed since Toran emerged into the light and dozens of Heretics lay dead. Sure the position was secure Toran straightened up. In the light of day he cut a dashing figure. Firstborn, with shining armour and a spread-winged Aquila for an Iron Halo. He bore a red cloak, heavy with purity seals, and in his hands the Sword of Thiel glowed, a precious relic of the Chapter. Fine accruements by any measure but most treasured were the ring of six gold studs around his wrist, each a token of a singular encounter with his Primarch.
While fighting Toran was also scanning the vox net, tracking numerous squads as they advanced. His Transhuman brain was able to paint a mental picture in astonishing detail and he knew the exact position of every Brother. The Storm Heralds had rolled over the front trenches with ease. Already squads were advancing into the teeth of Heretic fire, clearing sector by sector. Third Company held the rightmost flank and they would soon be in a position to sweep up the line and take the Heretics from behind. That was the plan, but it might not be needed, the rest of the Chapter was crushing all opposition in a glorious wave of blue.
"Chaplain Furion, take the Intercessors and secure the secondary trenches," Toran ordered.
"Already engaged," Furion called.
"Jediah, the Reivers are to assault the artillery," Toran voxed.
"We are in position, ten seconds till they are silenced."
"Excellent work Brothers, I will clear out the last line."
"Unnecessary," called Librarian Arvael, "The Heretic's courage has broken, they flee back to the city. The entire line is collapsing; the Storm Heralds have won this fight."
Toran scanned the vox-net for troubles requiring his intervention but found none. The charge had gone better than he could ever have dreamed, the Storm Heralds obliterating all resistance. Even for Space Marines it was a stunning feat, quicker than he had ever known Astartes to work. The pace of the fight had outstripped his orders and their objective had been secured in minutes.
Toran blinked under his helm and mused, "Is this what it is like to fight with a thousand Brothers at my back?"
Persion strolled over, "Certainly effective, the enemy never stood a chance against the Storm Heralds."
Smyth called over, "Let us not forget we do not fight alone. Hundreds of Brothers from the Hawk Lords, Sons of Orar, Destroyers and Excoriators encircle Vatalem, another Chapter's worth of Space Marines, not to mention fifty thousand Guardsmen."
Toran stepped to the edge of the trench and gazed over the lintel. Beyond the ring of trenches Vatalem dwelt, holy city-state and centre of worship on Sacellum. It rose from the surrounding salt plains like a Promethium tanker from a becalmed sea. High walls protected vast districts of Templums and shrines, kilometre after kilometre of triumphal arches and sacred processionals, each more intricate than the last. At the heart of the city rose an even grander series of Cathedrals and Basilicas, vast edifices reaching for the burning sky, monuments raised to the glory of Him on Terra. Mankind's dedication to their leader was admirable, save that they proclaimed Him a god. Toran's adoration for the Emperor was fierce, his loyalty unbreakable, but he did not believe that prayer would result in divine lightning bolts to strike down the enemy, nor stop a bolt round penetrating his skull.
"The last bastion of resistance on Sacellum, where the surviving Heretics cower," Toran declared.
"Twenty hours," Persion mused, "Twenty hours since we first set foot on this planet and we've taken every city-state, save this one. The Primarch declared it would take but a day to reclaim this planet, I didn't believe it was possible until I saw it with my own eyes."
"Such is the might of his Indomitus Crusade," Smyth sighed longingly.
Toran eyed him warily. The Primaris had come to the Storm Heralds from the Crusade. True he'd been in an outrider unit, but still the Lieutenant had seen the might of the assembled Chapters first hand. Thirty Chapters had pledged to Fleet Primus, and that was only one-tenth of the Crusade's might. Five thousand Space Marines assembled in common cause, strength beyond compare, and that was before one factored in the genius of its commander. Roboute Guilliman himself led Fleet Primus and his strategic acumen was unrivalled in the galaxy. Toran had seen the Primarch rally defeated fleets and armies with but a word, devise stratagems that left others gaping in awe and turn certain defeat into triumphant victory. With such a commander surely they could not lose.
"Such power is awe-inspiring," Toran agreed, "It makes war easy."
"Too easy," Persion muttered, "This went too smooth for my liking."
"Five thousand Space Marines will do that," Smyth argued.
"Against mortals, perhaps but we were supposed to be fighting Alpha Legion. Where are the Traitorous bastards hiding?"
Suddenly the voxed squawked, "Sergeant Zeax to Captain Toran, enemy counterattack moving in from sector nineteen."
"Sector nineteen?!" Toran yelped, "The 78th Yeomen were meant to secure that sector, where are the Guardsmen?"
"No sign of the bloody Plough-Pushers," Zeax called, "But we need support or we'll be overrun!"
"Hold your position and lay down suppressive fire, squads Lorath, Invada and Merkham wheel right and engage!"
Toran leapt into action, charging down the trench with sword in hand. He flew past dismembered Heretics, vaulting piles of corpses. Behind the Aggressors trundled along, trying to keep up as Smyth and Persion matched his pace. Ahead the thunder of Heavy Bolters told that the flank was engaged already, pressed hard to hold their ground. Beyond the horizon glowed with thunderous artillery explosions, racking the distant plain. That was where the 78th Yeomen had been assigned, the freshly-raised Glaebian regiment must be in serious trouble. The shells weren't coming from the enemy though, but from their own lines. Throne, the Yeomen had called down fire on their own position, they must be in some serious crap.
Toran had no time to investigate for he saw the enemy approaching. Ahead a squad of Devastators poured Heavy Bolter fire into a charging line of azure ceramite. Traitor Marines, Alpha Legionnaires coming to contest the flank. Toran hated them on sight but his rage was mixed with revulsion. Claws and talons sprouted from gauntlets, helms grew tusks and shadowy wings spread from shoulders. Not just Traitors but defiled travesties of Astartes: Possessed Marines.
The Possessed shrugged off fire like it was rain, charging despite grievous wounds blown into their fronts. In moments they would reach the Devastators and roll straight over them, but not if Toran got there first. The Captain let out a wild yell as he threw himself into the way, placing himself in the Possessed's path. A fiend with gnashing fangs set in a Ceramite faceplate came at him, talons shimmering with unlight. Toran met the cur with a thrust to the face that made the filth fall back, but instantly another with tentacles for hands came from his left, trying to wrap him in sucking coils. Toran fended the blow-off with an awkward swipe only to be attacked by a third, covered head to toe in sprouting thorns.
The Captain was outnumbered and flanked. His position was untenable and he fell back crying, "Fight to deny Brothers, buy more time!"
"You… weak…" the one with fangs snarled mushily, "Chaos… strong…"
"Die Traitorous filth!" Toran cried.
The Captain's cry was bold but his state deplorable. He was under attack from three sides, by enemies just as fast and strong as he. The Traitors drooled and snarled like feral beasts but their combat instincts were flawless. They pressed in from all sides, trying to eviscerate him. From the corner of his eye he saw Persion duelling another pair, Smyth fending off another and the Devastators tangling with the rest.
Toran had no time for another look as a talon ripped a deep groove into a pauldron. He saved his arm from being ripped off with a hasty twist but a lashing tentacle nearly tripped him. He jumped the blow and struck back, only to miss having his throat torn out by a hairsbreadth as the third lanced in. He was beset, unable to do anything save defend himself, without any chance to strike back. Only the longer reach of his sword was keeping him alive but it could not last long.
"Where are my reinforcements?!" he yelled into the vox.
"Thirty seconds!" Sergeant Lorath called.
"Thirty seconds more and we'll be dead!" Toran barked.
"Stand fast," another voice cut in, "Reinforcements are here!"
A shadow blocked out the sun as a towering form charged into the fray. An armoured frame, mechanical legs and broad chest. Bedecked in glorious heraldry, carrying a sword as big as a Space Marine and a shield that would pass for a barricade, a Contemptor Dreadnought, charging into battle. Novak Titanbane, the Storm Heralds' youngest Dreadnought and most eager for battle.
Novak slammed into the Possessed like a wrecking ball, sending sundered Traitors flying. His sword cut a Possessed into chunks, his shield smashed them aside and his feet crushed bodies into paste. The defiled Traitors rallied quickly, turning to face the greater threat. They came at him with warp talons and shimmering claws, seeking to tear him apart. The Dreadnought only laughed as he was surrounded, hacking and slashing with irresistible might. He made a great slaughter of the Traitors, spilling vitae freely till the raised crest adorning his sensor-dome was painted red and the broken trophy Rosarius attached to his sarcophagus could not be seen for gore.
The Possessed were stalled by his fury and Toran took advantage. He ran one through from behind with his long blade, then kicked the corpse free to decapitate another. His Brothers rallied and in moments had cut the remaining Traitors apart, a dozen Possessed reduced to nothing but oozing corpses, as their infernal counterparts fled back to the hells of the Warp. Toran looked about for more foes but found the field was theirs, the flank had been saved.
He fluttered the energy field on his blade to clear filthy Heretic blood, "Good timing Novak."
"I was looking for a worthy fight!" Novak cried elatedly.
"Heretics not enough for you?" Persion snorted.
"Good enough for you, not for one who slew a Titan!"
"You don't have to keep reminding us of that," Persion groaned.
"Don't be jealous Little Brother," Novak chided.
"I told you to stop calling me that!"
"Of course, whatever you say Little Brother."
Toran rolled his organic eye, "The 78th Yeomen were in trouble."
"We wondered where the Alpha Legion went," Smyth chided, "Looks like they went for the Guardsmen,"
"Vox chatter is dying down, I think the artillery bombardment put paid to their counter-attack," Toran stated.
"So what do we do next?"
Toran looked across the salt plains to where the city-state lay, no doubt harbouring more Traitor Marines and Heretics beyond counting. A fierce battle lay ahead but his orders were confident, "All squads form up and prepare for the next phase. We are entering the city, prepare for urban combat conditions. The fighting will be hard my Brothers but our Gene-father has declared this planet will be won in a day. We have four hours left to meet that deadline and the Storm Heralds shall see his will done!"