Knight world of Normandy:
Introduction: Normandy is an oddity amongst the knight worlds of the realm. Often violent and dour, the knights of Normandy care little for chivalry and less for valor, they fight only to win. Their world is kept divided into petty warlords and kingdoms, always in a state of tense peace or low scale war. Individually this strife has kept them strong but has estranged them from their allies. Perhaps of all the knight worlds they are the most adjusted to the madness of the forty first millennium.
Biome: Normandy is much smaller in size than earth, roughly the same size as Luna and orbiting the gas giant called Xeris. The world consists mostly of plains, hills, forests and frozen tundra to the north.
History: Normandy has always been divided, with various nobles, warlords, chieftains and more at each other's throats. Blood has been spilled on this world for as long as any can remember, and any number of reasons or causes have been numerous. But in the end, does it really matter if men are fighting for pride, gold, or doctrine? The result is always the same, blood flows, hatred rises, and schemes are hatched and the cycle begins anew.
(The age of Myth)
It was during one of these cycles that the soon to be Fabian, the "bloody handed" red knight, was born. In that time the civilized peoples dominated the hills and plains and had pushed their less cultured barbarian kin to the forest and far north. Two great houses dominated the civilized lands through a network of alliances to smaller houses and orders. These two houses, the Brutii and Scipii then turned on one another and fought for dominance for generations. Eventually the Brutii gained the upper hand after a particularly fierce battle.
It seemed like both sides had grown weary of war and neither could remember why they were fighting in the first place. A truce was scheduled to be signed but in reality it was a ploy designed by the Scipii to extract vengeance for their losses in the previous battles. The Scipii delegates managed to pay off the guards and sneak in mercenaries to the Brutii estate when the negotiations were happening. A massacre ensued as the Brutii royal family were caught off guard and slain one by one. Fabian was the only one to escape, carried away by his retainer. At only eight years old he watched his world go up in flames.
Fire, cruel, vicious and indiscriminate, nearly consumed them as they fled. It was like fleeing from the jaws of the underworld itself. The flames singed his skin as they ran and the smoke assailed his nostrils as he smelled burning wood and flesh.
The sounds of hooves galloping thundered, almost deafening, drowning the screams of the dead and the dying. He turned back and looked as they left, his heart filled with dread as he saw his home engulfed with flames and death. Tears fell down his face, his family, his friends, basically his whole life was now gone. In his heart he swore a deep, bitter, vengeance against house Scipii.
Fabian now lived on the run, being taught how to fight and survive by his retainer Justine, who was a veteran soldier and survivor of many battles. Justine did his best to instill morals and virtues into the young Fabian. He even tried to dissuade Fabian from the path of vengeance, but this would be cut short however. Bounty hunters caught up to the two and in the ensuing fight Justine was slain, but Fabian was able to avenge him by killing the bounty hunters. Afraid of more hunters pursuing him and seeking allies to join him in his quest to lay waste to the Scipii, he traveled north to the barbarian tribes.
For years he would gain their respect through deeds and battle. One by one he would win over the tribes and unite them under his cause. Only one trial remained before him, that being the "ritual of fire". The ritual was seen as a way to entreat them with their deity before going to war. The barbarians worship a deity strange to Fabian, for the civilized lands still worshiped the Emperor if they worshiped anything at all. These tribes worshiped someone called the Scarlet Queen, Drand their worship had aspects that the others did not. To them, she was a figure of war and strength, equal parts regal and brutal. Seeing no other way to win their support, Fabian indulged into what he believed to be mere superstition.
Chanting echoed throughout the gathering, the crackling of fire being a fitting ambulance. Fabian fought back the urge to wince as the smell of animal sacrifices wafted through the air. He soon reached the epicenter as the barbarians continued to circle around him. He sighed as he reached the bound fire in the middle and knelt, repeating the passages he told to and then suddenly everything went black.
He awoke, not around the fire pit like he expected. Instead he was back outside his old estate, it was still aflame like it was the day he fled. His grip on his sword tightened as he thought of his being slaughtered. He felt a gust of wind behind him as he turned to see a beautiful, but intimidating woman in Scarlet armor towering before him.
Whatever words were exchanged between the two are unknown but it is known that Fabian knelt before the Scarlet Queen and a deal was made between the two. In exchange for her aid in his vengeance, he promised to serve her in the future against a different threat. He set out now with an army behind to head south and invade the civilized lands. Unbeknownst to him however, a resistance movement was already brewing. Former allies of his family had been playing a rebellion and once Fabian's forces invaded they also rose in revolt.
These rebels would be the ones to supply him his knight suit. Fabian would prove to be a quick learner and an even more apt pilot. He wasn't however the greatest leader and soon he lost control of his forces. He only barely managed to direct his armies against the Scipii, but still they
managed to overwhelm the Scipii through sheer numbers and ferocity. In a matter of months they had forced the Scipii back to their central estate. There he unleashed his pent up anger and vengeance, setting fire to it as the last of the Scipii burned to death, whether they had anything to do with the original massacre or not.
With his vengeance satisfied he was forced to find a new calling in life. Perhaps he felt a bit of guilt for the wanton destruction he had unleashed, or maybe he just felt that was his right to rule. No matter the reason he set about establishing his rule. In exchange for their aid in the invasion, the barbarian tribes were given opportunities for permanent residence in the civilized lands. In addition, the houses that rebelled were given positions of prominence in this new regime.
Even during these times of peace, Fabian was restless, seemingly preparing for a threat that was to come. That day would eventually come, when Orks invaded the world and despite his attempts to prepare for it, they were overwhelmed by the numbers and strength of the Orks. Rather than being vanquished, the Orks grew bored of hunting down the humans and set about assailing another world, looking for a better fight. Injured but still alive, Fabian gathered those who could still fight or serve and set out towards Charlemagnia, to fulfill his destiny and his end of the deal.
Whilst sailing towards his destination he would pick up various stragglers, hold outs and other miscellaneous forces and form a rag-tag fleet. This fleet would prove to be instrumental in the battle for Charlemagnia, taking the Ork ships by surprise and scattering them before descending. They would lend their aid to the defenders there, helping to take the fight to the Orks. It was during this time that Fabian sought out the cave of transcendence and would undergo his Ascendancy.
Fabian limped forward inside of his knight suit, electronic sparks lighting the night. Pain and weariness nearly consumed his every thought as pressed forward. Only the thought of avenging himself against the greenskins kept him going as years worth of fighting and hardship pressed against him.
The cave was nothing like he was expecting, especially given how difficult it was to even get here. It had a tranquility and harmony he thought unfitting for power it possessed. Fabian grunted as he gave one last bit of effort as he walked into the pool in the center of the cave. His knight was fully submerged into the surprisingly deep pool. The strange liquid seeped into the machine and its machine spirit before finally reaching into his mind.
Fabian thought that he knew pain and suffering, that he had an adamantium will that could endure anything. Now he knew that he was wrong as he felt intense, almost all consuming pain. As his body was wrack with pain, his mind was flooded with visions of the distant past and future alike. A familiar voice called to him as his mind was about to snap, directing his attention elsewhere…
Whatever happened during his ascension, Fabian emerged stronger in both mind and body, as well as possessing potent psychic abilities. His suit had transformed as well, now boasting a red and black color scheme and constantly projecting an aura of fear wherever he went. He would soon fight alongside Arkas, the first of the Ascended and forge an uneasy alliance against the Orks, for even in those days their ideals and goals would eventually set them apart.
As time went on, more would be added to their number as they pushed the greenskins back and reclaimed world after world and system after system. Disagreements began to spring up however as their different ideologies clashed, especially on how to conduct this war. The majority, especially Arkas, wished to fight with honor and nobility, arguing that it was just as if not more important to build a future for the realm that it was to merely liberate it. Fabian bitterly disagreed, arguing that ethics and morals had no place in war. In his mind the galaxy was a cruel place and only those strong enough to face that truth would survive.
A tense silence hung over the room as the assembled lords scanned their target. The room was illuminated only by cogitators and vid screens. The faint sound of static provided an eerie ambiance as each one thought of what to do. Fabian took another brief look around, seeing the assembled knights around him. They were all legendary heroes in their own right, some were priests, other judges, statesmen, scholars, healers, and more. But he however was none of those things, he was a destroyer plain and simple, he was a murderer, not some grand hero.
The truth was, this was a galaxy for heroes, not anymore at least. It was a galaxy for the ruthless, the strong, and unscrupulous. The sooner they learned that the better, he thought to himself before speaking up. They were debating about what about the city of Viriz, a city of over a billion souls that the Orks were holding onto with an usual amount of tenacity. They couldn't afford to starve the city out, for there were more worlds to liberate. They also simply couldn't just leave as is for they couldn't afford to leave a sizable garrison behind.
In reality, they had two choices, either they could take the city conventionally or they could bond it to the ground. He advocated for the latter, for the iron guild was already capable of producing atomic weapons which could flatten the city. Obviously this would come at the expense of the civilian population, but as far as he was concerned they were already as good as dead. If they fought a traditional, grueling battle then they would be caught in the crossfire anyway. In his there was no real debate here, but he knew that he would still have to make his case.
So he made his case, arguing with logic and reason that the loss of lives and material wasn't worth the rescue of the civilians. As he expected, his proposal wasn't met with acclaim. Kadmos, Chanelle, and Arkas were the most outspoken in their disagreements but he found little sympathy from the rest. Disgusted by their weakness, Fabian stormed off as the others decided what to do.
Despite their personal grievances Fabian alongside the other twelve slowly but surely pushed back the greenskin hordes. Eventually they managed to shatter the hordes once and for all by slaying many of the strongest Orks in one fell swoop.
With the greenskins broken, the thirteen would return to their home worlds. Some would rule, others would advise, still others would serve. Fabian on the other hand, did little more than suppress the feral Orks who had grown in his abscess. He pushed them back to far corners of the world and decreed that none should vanquish them. Instead he declared the feral orks should be left as a challenge for future generations to keep contained. He then let those who were following him during the war settle down on the planet as well as anyone else who would settle the land.
Then a short time later he would vanish, leaving no successors or institutions at all. This was intentional, as wanted his people to be strong and in his mind this could only be maintained through constant conflict.
(Post age of Myth).
Normandy has remained a battleground consistently ever since. The world is divided into many tribes and petty kingdoms, some of which rose to prominence but eventually fell as the status quo has reasserted itself over and over again. Periods of peace and progress have happened from time to time but feuds and personal ambitions have kept them from being united as are other worlds.
Normandy today is a mix mash of different cultures, ideologies and worldviews kept perilously on the brink of war. Their reputation amongst the realm is mixed, with some viewing them as heathens for their different ways of worshiping the Scarlet Queen. Others decry their ambivalence towards honor and decent. But regardless, they are renowned as fearsome and powerful warriors and in the fortieth millennium there is greater need for warriors now than ever before.
Combat doctrine:
Contrary to popular perception, the knights of Normandy are not all bloodthirsty killers. Instead they are often highly pragmatic when it comes to campaigns and combat in general. In their mind, one should always fight to win, for honor and chivalry are of no use to the dead. Therefore one should use every advantage one can muster, for in war there are only winners and losers, the victorious and the vanquished.
When they fight, they prefer close combat and to engage the enemy leadership. In essence they want to strike singular decisive blows rather than having long drawn out engagements. Baring this, they are known to make liberal use of bombardment to force enemies into either pitched battles or surrender. These brutal methods of war have estranged them from many of their
allies, forcing them to rely more on those that are more willing to stand beside them. They have been known to fight alongside the Lacerta for instance, making good use of their superior endurance to pin down and crush many enemies.
Culture: Norman culture is often seen by outsiders to be borish and abrasive. While there are certainly elements of this, such judgements are too hasty. In truth, the Norman are simply prideful people who can for their own and those that earn their respect. Friendship once earned is taken far more seriously than many of their more capricious kin.
In essence they value strength, not just of body but of mind. Each individual adult is expected to do their part and not be a burden on others. They are not heartless however and have been known to help others, even if only so that those helped can become mature enough to return the favor and help others in turn. Honesty is also another trait value amongst the Norman's, for lie is considered a weakness in many cases.
Warcry: "victory or death!"
M40
Tank commander Vash of the 120th Cadian grined as watched his trapped unfolding. He has successfully fainted this crude barbarians into a foolish headlong attack. He had learn a while ago that the heavens perfered direct assults on enemy leadership, a tactic that he himself also liked. But there were was to take advantage of such aggression.
He had has his location "leaked" and then set up accordingly. Now this godless curs would face the judgement of the god emperor on their souls. His visage slowly turned from mild amusment to frustration as the forces he trapped refused to die. instead they were making their way slowly towards him.
Vash grunted out a series of orders as the enemy knights, clad in dark red and using strange runes he hadn't seen before kept cutting their way through his forces like a hot knife through butter. Soon what was once an orderly gunline turned to panic as the enemy cut them down one by.
Vash continued to issue orders until one of the knights turned its attention towards him. Vash was frozen in fear for the briefiest of moments, all of his training failing to kick in for a fraction of a second. That hesitation would cost him his life, as the knight would blow up his vehicle in a single shot. With his death, fear and pandemonium would strike the hearts of the imperials that day.