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They Cometh From Iron

Discussion in 'Role Playing' started by DeranVendar, Mar 11, 2017.

  1. DeranVendar DeranVendar Subordinate

    Prologue: The Fighting Forty-Fourth
    "From Iron, cometh Strength."
    They were born on Terra, Cradle of Mankind and throne from which the Master of Mankind ruled. They were born on Olympia, cradle of The Lord of Iron, The Hammer of Olympia, and Primarch of the Iron Warriors legion. Once boys, then men, then the best of men, they all became more. They were clad in armor, powerful armor, proof against assaults both savage and devious. They were given weapons, powerful weapons, that roared like thunder and split flesh, bone, and armor without pause. They were given minds, bodies, and spirits made ready for war. They were not reforged, nor reborn, they were honed. They were space marines!

    "From Strength,cometh Will."
    They came from Terra, seeking glory, to serve, to expand the reach of man. They came from Olympia, seeking glory, to serve, to carry the banners of the legion Father. Terran, Olympian, they all came into the fourth legion and found themselves among broken sons. They had heard the rumors, the stories, but nowhere did it become clear how real things were than when they joined the legion proper. Ten percent dead, beaten to death by brothers in arms. They all had bloody hands.

    "From Will, cometh Faith."
    They were not Ultramarines, victors yes, but never so swiftly or gloriously. They were not Salamanders, tenacious yes, but lacking in that very human spirit. They were not World Eaters, relentless yes, but lacking that berzerker spirit. They were not Imperial Fist, stoic yes, but lacking so much favor. They were Iron Warriors, calculating, merciless, and brutal. They were the Work Horse Legion, the Corpse Grinders.

    "From Faith, cometh Honour."
    They were going to a world. Its name did not matter. What mattered was that Orks were there, the hated xenos menace. Forges once belonging to man now cranked out war machines for the many Freebootas that swarmed the local sector. It was like sending a man with a heavy flamer to cleanse bees from a vineyard. It was busy work.

    "From Honour, cometh Iron."
    This would be their first trial. Years of training programs, war games, and practice cages were going to be exchanged for Ork charges, artillery barrages, and trenches. The Orks had fortified the planet as only they truly could. Redoubts and bastions so impractical as to be impervious to conventional means. The madness of the xeno would be pitted against the blunt genius of the the fourth legion. Two line companies and their armored centuries splintered from the grand battalion would be entrusted with this task. Two hundred marines against countless Orks. Fair odds.

    "This is the Unbreakable Litany, and may it forever be so."
    The voice of Captain Brumdar echoed throughout the mustering chamber. Voice carried above and all around his company whom were gathered for strategic briefing. The ranks were a curious mixture of shapes and asymmetry as the bulky jump packs of assault warriors were stationed in the same rows as the linesmen and heavy weapons troopers. In the wake of the decimation there was a mighty urge to improve performance. Some opted to buckle down and hone proven tactics, to refine what had once been thought strengths so that perhaps legion Father might concur. Others, such as Brumdar, desired to experiment and step beyond the confines of tried and true in pursuit of glory. Cases like him were of a lesser presence, and indeed derision was a constant for the daring, yet Brumdar believed fortune favored the bold; and it had certainly been a bold call to reorganize their squads.

    It was this thinking that lead to several assaults standing beside several linesmen and heavy legionnaires. Marcus, Wilson, Herchel, Seth, Dyzek, Grunvil, and four others made up the Seventh squad. They were fresh meat for the grinder, tested but unblooded. Perhaps they, at least, were possessed of the eagerness most the rest of their company lacked, not seeing this as the equivalent of galactic house keeping and a chance to prove themselves as legionnaires proper. Their Sergeant, a lumbering figure by the name of Akar, hadn't done much to instill any sort of pride or excitement in them. Nor had he quashed any that he saw, his presence was an empty one and his interactions had been purposely limited to ensuring they trained and were schooled in tactics. Outside of these duties he gravitated toward spending time with other, older members of the legion. It seemed to be that way for them with everyone else for that matter.

    At last there was movement within the chamber once more. Tactical holos and great projection screens igniting as the lumen-torches on the walls subtly dimmed to darkness. A biting orange cast off by the holo-projectors dominated much of the space, while a sterile blue-white was given off by the screens. An orb took shape and was swiftly being populated by sectors, structures, and masses of troops. Lesser beings would of struggled to keep up with the sheer amount of information being put on display and cycled through, but for the space marines it was nothing and they easily glossed over and reabsorbed information that had already been presented a half-dozen times before. The Captain began speaking once everything was loaded up. Several minutes passed as orders were relayed and tactics discussed. Units and sub-units organized, squads tasked and sub-commanders anointed.

    "Squad Seven shall act in support of establishing operations. You will oversee our Imperial Army auxiliaries in fortifying the LZ and making sure the Orks do not interrupt the securing of our foothold. " It sounded several degrees more important and vital than it really was. Even the youngest of the Iron Warriors could translate it to busy work, digging trenches, erecting fortifications, and minding their regular human allies while the real bloodshed and tactically exciting operations were managed by the more veteran among their ranks. Akar reacted to this with a mechanical salute.

    "Orders acknowledged Captain!" Yelling was about as animated as the their Sergeant ever got, and even raising his voice seemed more like programming than actual choice or acknowledgment of the situation. If there was anything the man actually had to offer to the squad, it was wisdom, and the raw power of a plasma cannon. "Seventh, move out. " Already in motion before he even finished speaking Akar didn't bother checking if they were following, expecting it. Punishment for failure to move would obviously be quite severe.
  2. Valonox Valonox Preacher

    Wilson listened proudly but tactically absorbing everything with his photographic memory that every Astartes had. Once he heard the Sergeant tell them to move out Wilson took one more to the room around him. Getting to see the rest of the fight while they got to set up a foothold. He thought to himself. 'By the tongue of Angron I wanted to actually kill something today...'
  3. Fox Vulpas Well-Known Member

    Herchel, stood in the room taking in all the information, scanning it memorizing it, Taking list of objectives and how to do them successfully or more efficiently he gave off no emotions at this and by the end was this was ready to move out and get on the job, Even if it was busy work, it was work to show there leaders that they could follow orders and get a task done. As he heard there sergeants orders to move out he began moving to follow him he had been ready for a long time for his first mission and soon would be the proving grounds.
  4. Akerath Vlayden Well-Known Member

    The recruit, Marcus, had not wasted much time in following the sergeant; even on Olympia he knew better than to hesitate at orders from ones such as the Legiones Astartes. His eyes continued to look around with slight wonder at the technological marvels that his Legion had created, his hands clenching and relaxing every so often.
    He itched to do some true work for the Crusade; no, to do some true work for the Iron Warriors. This is for Olympia, he thought to himself optimistically. None could make him believe otherwise; and to do things for Home, was what he knew to be right.
    ...Now where the hell are we going, again?
  5. Colapse Colapse Forum Beta Tester

    OOC quick post inc in case I was holding anyone up. I promise better quality next time :( :CSMIron:

    "Aye Brother-Sergeant," Seth answered, following the squad out. Despite their task being hardly worthy of lauded heroes of the old tales, the young Iron Warrior grabbed it with both hands nonetheless as he eagerly revved his new chainaxe. There would be time for showing off later, even mighty Perturabo started with small steps at first.

    Then again, what he was instructed about the Greenskins before told him one thing - if anything, there was a whole lot of them and one could hope for a bunch of them to stumble upon their LZ and if that happened, there would be room for a lot of butcher's work.

    "Today is a good day to fight brothers," he said out loud, "Let's show the other rookies that the 7th has the toughest bastards of them all!"
  6. DeranVendar DeranVendar Subordinate

    "The toughest trench diggers and baby sitters they'll ever see." Akar quipped bitterly, eyes having hooded and expression gone grim the moment they left the chamber. "In reality though, we can expect our fair share of trouble. The Orks will have enough bullets flying and shells falling that we'll be under fire before they can even dream of hitting us. They will make an immediate charge for our landing zone, however the Captain appears to be doing our comrades a favor by letting them counter-charge while we establish the teeth of our fortifications. Once those are set up we can comfortably let the greenskins get chewed apart by defensive emplacements and the Imperial Army while we begin to grind forward and cripple their production. " They were on approach to the armory. Serfs bolted to and fro and automated weaponry tracked onto them, the Iron Warriors creating far more commotion in others than they themselves made.

    "We'll have only our Rhinos for shelter at the start, the auxiliaries will handle the lions share of preparing the trenches and setting up the guns, but they'll still need us to oversee everything so they don't end up digging up into each others asses rather than the ground. " Akar's nostrils flared with a sigh. "Apparently the old guard couldn't stomach doing their job, so instead of proper soldiers we're being fed penal troopers. So don't be afraid to make a few examples, no one will miss 'em. " Entering into the Armory they were instantly greeted by the efficient dispensation systems erected by the Iron Warriors. Servitors, Serfs, and machinery slaved to the will of trans-human masters were flying about arming and providing for those squads already present and preparing for war. "Designation Seventh-Squad, Entrenchment and Security detail. " Akar turned his head and spoke to a Tech-marine overseeing a multi-tiered control panel. Without even canting his head to look back a serpentine tendril of flex-steel tipped with a data jack stabbed into a port.

    ++ Seventh-Squad proceed to Delta-Three++ The modulated voice somehow managed to sound more lively than that of Akar, it's warbling pronunciations and deep, bellowing effect sounding a great deal more like a warrior should. Coming upon their designated arming sector they found a line of benches already laden with their equipment, a handful of Serfs running last minute functionality and structural checks to make sure those performed previously hadn't missed anything. Weapons, entrenching tools and grenades were standard order for the day. Akar kept his body still after picking up his plasma cannon. A ceiling track-mounted servo-arm unfolding to help load up the back mounted heavy plasma flask that would keep his weapon firing for some time.

    OOC: Emote getting armed and all that fun jazz. Everyone gets 1 Frag and 1 Krak grenade for this mission.
    @Draconion @Redthirst @BruticusTheGoreHound @Valonox @Colapse @Vulpas @Vlayden @Grall_Stonefist
  7. @DeranVendar @Colapse

    Standing within the mustering chamber, Dyzek's eyes, scanning across the presented data for the oncoming deployment, would begin to light up as he continued to read. Though he did indeed listen to every word spoken by the Captain, in truth, his mind was elsewhere, focusing on the relevant information needed for the deployment. He'd make note to check in on the pedological readings found on their way down, along with geological findings of their forward operating base. Though the memory was dimmed, he'd grasp at the words of his old father, the one who he had known before the coming of Perturabo, and The IVth Legion. Bringing himself back to his youth on Terra, he'd spend much of his time watching his father when not aiding in the constructions he plotted out.

    "Remember my child, all great things begin with a solid foundation. If you do not know the earth beneath you, can not trust it, and know what it is capable of, then even the mightiest structures will crumble upon it."

    A small smile would form upon his lips, as he'd be snapped from his moment of introspection, by the words of their acting sergeant. He hadn't known Akar for long, and from what he could tell, the man was a blunt instrument manifested in the flesh, a hammer in human form. He kept his drills tight, his work efficient, and his personal interests to himself, as Dyzek had not failed to notice the fact that more often then not, he spent his free time among the older members of The Legion. Yet, with a mental shrug, he'd once again come to a simple conclusion, that the sergeant would most likely warm up to the new recruits eventually.

    As if on some strange cue, it would be then that one of said newcomers would speak up, his words reinforced with the roar of his chain-axe. This astartes, Seth, he'd known him somewhat longer than the others, not only training with him in the ways of the assault, yet even harkening back to the trials on Terra, albeit at the time he'd been focused on other things. As such, he'd not found himself having a full measure of his battle brother quite yet, however he could say without a doubt that the man seemed very eager, ready to prove himself. Indeed, he'd allow himself a brief laugh at his words, before replying with his own, his own baritone voice still bearing a slight hint of amusement in it's tone.

    "Oh yes, let us do battle with the dirt of this far flung world! The enemy will feel the bite of our shovels, breaking before our might. Be sure to leave some digging for the mortals, Brother Seth, there is plenty of glory for all here."

    He'd shake his head, running an armoured hand along his hair, his visage still bearing a smile upon it. Carrying onwards, he'd listen to the words of the sergeant, and despite himself, would feel his eyes light up at the mention of action against the xeno threat. Listening to the specifics of the drop, he'd note with some interest of the usage of penal troops rather than regular soldiers. Strange, but atleast they'd work off their debts serving The Legion, there were much worse fates in this galaxy. Flexing his fingers, one by one, in rapid succession, Dyzek would stride onwards, as the squad entered within the armory, paying a small bow of his head towards the Tech-Marine on station here. Being led towards their gear, the Iron Warrior would let his smile flash, as he saw his equipment before him, striding over to grasp at the hilt of his chainsword.

    The weapon, lovingly cared for by his own work, would have it's teeth gleaming in the dim light of the chamber, as he ran a finger down it's length. Taking a few practice strokes, feeling the weapon meld mentally into a portion of his arm, he'd be satisfied with it's quality, and would swiftly place it to his hip, locking it upon himself. Opening a pouch at his waist, he'd swiftly scoop up three more chains of teeth, knowing just how easily the ones currently in his blade would be ripped free in combat. Better to have extra, then to suddenly be found with a toothless blade. Following this, he'd reach for his pistol, pulling it up before his face, scanning it for any problems. His gaze would linger briefly upon the leather grip of the weapon, were a symbol that would match the tattoo upon his head would be seen. Swiftly, he'd load in a magazine to his pistol, to check and see it's balance in his grip, before he was satisfied, and holstered it upon him.

    From here, he'd begin to scoop up his other equipment, the twin frag grenades he'd been issued, stowed in a pouch upon his belt. In one hand, he'd fold up his entrenching tool, before this too would be hung at his hip, leaving him to run a quick check over his armour itself. A diagnostic performed over his plating, with regards especially to the colossal jump pack upon him, would begin to run, giving him a moment to think things over. ​
  8. Akerath Vlayden Well-Known Member

    The recruit wordlessly made his way to get himself a boltgun; if he could, he'd oggle all the rest of the weapons with a longing sigh, before reaching to grab himself five magazines and attaching them to his belt; he'd trained plenty of times on the firing range, though firing at live, moving, (and undoubtedly maniacal and green) opponents would be far more interesting.
    He sheathed a combat knife to the side of his right greave, patting it once for good measure as he made sure the straps and maglock were intact. His eyes soon looked about for where a bolt pistol would be and holstered that (with two magazines to them) onto the left side. His awe and near-childish grin from before had faded to a concentrated monotony; his goal, preparation.

    Once he'd finally gotten his equipment, he looked over the other squadmates and watched them now. For the most part he was just making sure that nobody else forgot anything, one hand fumbling over to grab at a frag and krak grenade. Unfortunately, it hadn't taken long before his eyes wandered onto a large shield, the heavy slab of metal being more commonly known as a 'Boarding shield'.
    As much as he had confidence in his power armour (even hearing many stories on the invincibility of the Space Marines), he decided to walk on over and - should nobody halt him, or anything - reach to pick the Boarding shield up, patting it with a chuckle.

    "How do I look?" He rhetorically asked the group; with the helmet at his side being pulled on, he looked certainly like a knight from ancient tales, a bulwark in one hand, and crusading armour covering his form. "Might we need this, Sergeant?" He asked soon afterwards - if anything, he seemed excited to have such a thing, despite its weight. He knew the answer would most certainly be a resounding 'no', but he at least could ask.

    OOC: Your choice if he gets to keep it or not. ^^
  9. @Vlayden

    Dyzek, checking the results of his diagnostics, would hear the words of his fellow squadmate, one of the Olympian born Iron Warriors. Turning his eyes briefly, he'd find his attention held at the sight of the being carrying the boarding shield in hand. Seeing him fully outfitted for intense boarding actions, he couldn't help but admit to himself that Marcus cut an impressive figure. As such, he'd reply, with an almost jovial tone.

    "Like a good and proper Son Of Dorn. Maybe you'd like to pose a little more incase we have some civilians nearby?"

    Letting himself have a laugh, he'd return to checking over his gear, stowing a combat knife upon his chest sheath, before grabbing a few extra magazines for his bolt pistol, just in case.​
  10. DeranVendar DeranVendar Subordinate

    "Like you're carrying my shield. " Akar didn't even need to respond to Marcus, standing but a foot away from the young legionnaire and apparently but a pace away from having grabbed the shield himself was a marine of much the same stature as Marcus himself. "No one likes trench duty new meat, myself especially. So unfortunately for you, you don't get my shield, I do. Because third squad gets to go engage in some good ol fashioned boarding action. "

    "Troyce. " Two voices spoke the name at once, one being Akar who looked thoroughly annoyed, and the other being an unfamiliar marine gathered with the rest of third squad. Judging by the iron skull firmly imprinted upon the stranger's helmet, it was safe to say he was another Sergeant. "Get your kit, we're moving out. Thirty minutes to engagement. " The two Sergeants briefly looked at each other, an exchange of half-nods were made. "Have fun down there Seventh, better see some good emplacements when we make it trench side. " There was a murmur of laughter from several of the men in both squads. Akar turned his head to Dyzek.

    "Don't even start with that shit new meat. Wouldn't want to get lynched before you've even been dropped into a mob of greenskins would you?"

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