Battlefleet Gothic: Armada 2: The Nihlus War - The Prologue


In the grim darkness of the far future, there is only war. The universe is a cauldron of conflict, where the forces of mankind battle against the encroaching darkness, and the terrors that lurk beyond the veil of reality. Such was the state of affairs in the 41st Millennium, a time of unparalleled strife and upheaval.

The galaxy had been plunged into an era of unending torment, marked by the relentless advance of the Chaos forces led by the dreaded Warmaster Abaddon. It was during the 13th Black Crusade that the mighty fortress world of Cadia, long regarded as a bulwark against the forces of Chaos, had fallen. The stalwart defenders of Cadia, led by Lord Castellan Ursarkar E. Creed, had fought valiantly to the last, but in the end, the planet's fate was sealed. The Great Rift, a tear in the very fabric of space and time, had rent the galaxy asunder, and the repercussions of this cataclysmic event were felt across the Imperium.

It was into this maelstrom of darkness that Lord Admiral Spire's Lunar-Class cruiser and his flagship, the Righteous Protector, emerged from the swirling madness of the warp. The crew, weary and battle-worn, had endured the horrors of the Immaterium, their faith in the God-Emperor their only solace in those tumultuous moments. As the vessel transitioned from the ethereal realm of the Emperyam into real space, the crew members let out a collective sigh of relief, for the warp was a place where madness and malevolence reigned supreme.

"We're out," Commodore Kage, one of the commanding officers of the Righteous Protector spoke in relief, "Praise the Emperor that I can see the stars again."

On the bridge of the Righteous Protector, Lord Admiral Spire, hero of the Gothic War, stood resolute, his gaze fixed upon the stars that now filled the viewports. His features were etched with the scars of countless battles, his uniform adorned with the insignia of a lifetime of service to the Imperium. He was a symbol of unwavering determination in the face of insurmountable odds.

"Report," he ordered, his voice carrying the weight of command.

"We're receiving distress signals," Kage stuttered in shock, "The region's alive with them. According to the timestamps, Admiral... The year... it's 999.M41. We've been lost in the warp for 800 years!"

Commodore Kage, Spire's trusted second in command, stepped forward. His eyes, once filled with youthful enthusiasm, now bore the weariness of a thousand battles. He held a Data-slate in his hand, its contents dire and foreboding.

"And Cadia, the hymnals report that it's been destroyed, Sir." Kage began, his voice steady but heavy with sorrow. "There's a lot of confusion out there sir. And Admiral, it was Abaddon himself who ordered its destruction. He unleashed a Black Legion fleet, which rammed a shattered Blackstone Fortress into the heart of Cadia."

The news struck Spire like a bolt of lightning. Cadia, the stalwart guardian of the Cadian Gate, had fallen, its people and defenders consigned to a horrific fate. It was a loss beyond measure, a blow to the Imperium's defenses that sent shockwaves across the Segmentum Obscurus.

"What of Lord Castellan Creed?" Spire inquired, his concern evident.

Kage lowered his gaze, unable to meet Spire's eyes. "His ultimate fate is unknown, my Lord. Cadia is lost, and its people are scattered."

A heavy silence hung over the bridge, the weight of the news sinking in. Spire had fought alongside Creed, admired his unwavering determination, and respected his leadership. The loss was a bitter pill to swallow.

But Spire was not a man to easily yield to despair. His jaw clenched with determination as he looked out into the void.

"Then we have not returned a moment too soon," Spire declared, his voice unwavering. "Navigator, chart a course to the Cadian system. We may be an age too late to join the battle, but revenge is still in our grasp. This is not the end, this is the beginning of a new war, a war like none we have seen before. Abaddon believes he has won, but we will show him that the Imperium does not falter in the face of adversity."

He turned to the communication officer. "Send a signal to all surviving Imperial, Mechanicus, and Astartes warships. Transmit this: This is Admiral Spire to all Imperial Vessels: rally at the following coordinates: 154, 154. This isn't over. A new war is about to begin, a war I shall call the Nihlus War."

As the orders were transmitted across the void, the crew of the Righteous Protector sprang into action. The dark days ahead would test their mettle as never before. The Nihlus War had begun, and Lord Admiral Spire, a flickering beacon of hope in the endless tide of encroaching darkness, would lead the charge to defend the Imperium from the bottomless abyss that threatened to consume it.