A Short Story: The Redeemed

To continue the article on Fluff, here is a short story I made for an army of Fallen Dark Angels: The Redeemed who insist on calling themselves Dark Angels again (confused Chaos Marines FTW). It was used during a campaign we did at our LGS.

Anyway, without further ado:

Flight of the Fallen

Brother Sergeant Ashriel checked around the mound of rubble and signaled the “All-clear” sign. His squad of veteran battle brothers fan out of the ruined Imperial building, scanning the area and covering each others back with the easy confidence that only a millenium of warfare and camaraderie can achieve.

“Brother Ashriel, the teleport beacon is ready.”

“Proceed.”

“Target is locked, getting a clear signal through the auspex, waiting for Verification”

“Very well, confirm verification before the teleport this time Gamail, we don’t want another Harakan incident now do we?”

“We survived that didn’t we, brother?” asked Gamail, the smile in his voice carried through the vox-link at the memory of the “incident”.

“Only by the grace of His divine light Gamail…, and of brother Zamael’s Havocs entering the same building that we happened to be in when the Ultramarine’s Terminators mistakenly teleported to us instead of our own brother terminators.”

A light tap on the helmet of each brother in the squad the only outward indication of a hearty round of laughter at that shared memory.

“Well, it was fortuna… hold! Receiving multiple return signals on the auspex. Multiple incomings, hostile! They are on a converging course.”

“Very well” Answered Ashriel calmly, “Brothers, weapons are free but engage targets of opportunity only, conserve your ammo.”

Switching his armor’s vox-link channels with a thought, Ashriel contacts the rest of his exploratory expedition situated a bit further behind his small scouting force;

“Brothers, we move to teleport location Beta, Alpha has been compromised. Brother Halmeth, your Raptors are to provide covering fire for Samal’s squad who shall remain in their Rhino until ordered to engage, understand Samal? No heroics this time.”

“Agreed.” Halmeth’s rough gravely voice answered over the sound of his jump engines.

“Affirmative, though I liked you better when you weren’t so uptight Ashriel” Answered Samal’s melodious and light hearted voice, “Returning to the Emperor does not mean you don’t enjoy the small things in life brother, though perhaps not to the amount we used to do.”

Ashriel did not even deign a reply. The last few days weigh heavily on his mind. The exploratory force was supposed to encounter only light resistance but so far they have blundered into a force of former Battle Brothers, a sorcerer of Mighty… no, it’s wretched now, Wretched Tzeentch, a Tau force complete with battlesuits and an Eldar force that featured dancing clowns who gave the Brothers a bloody nose.

The list of enemies of the Emperor grows daily it seems… but, as it was once a long time ago and as it will be in the future, it is Ashriel’s solemn duty as a Dark Angel Space Marine to be the mailed fist of His Divine wrath, the first to meet His challengers where ever they may be.

Shaking himself out of his contemplation, Ashriel opened his armor’s vox-link and addressed his Battle Brothers;

“Brothers, once again the enemy is upon us.”

“They think us weak.”

“They think us defeated.”

“They think us easy prey.”

“They think us forsaken of His Light.”

“They know nothing.”

“We have been given a chance at redemption.”

“For once again,”

“We feel the warmth of His Presence.”

“For once again,”

“We fight in His name.”

“Brothers, once again,”

“We”

“Can”

“Proclaim:”

“For the Emperor!”

-Steven-

“Let your plans be dark and impenetrable as night, and when you move, fall like a thunderbolt.” ― Sun Tzu, The Art of War

The Liberation of Epdermus

From his vantage point on the top of a small rise behind the central offensive line, Brother Ashriel looks out across the battlefield and smiled. The attack on the traitor’s last fortification is going well; The Dark Angels’ center, even though outnumbered by the traitors 5 to 1, is pushing the traitors back with superior fire discipline, laying a massive amount of suppressing fire while advancing slowly through the ruble of what was once the Spire City of Epdermus.

Over the course of three weeks, the Dark Angels have systematically pushed back the traitors to this position; a city on the edge of a cliff side. The traitors have retreated to their last bastion on this beleaguered world. The huge city has been adequately fortified by the Traitors, turning it into a defensible position but it is clear to Ashriel that the traitors’ commander did not even consider that he might be fighting for his very survival here.

Turning to survey the right flank Ashriel heard an amplified howling laughter and his smile grew wider; Brother Amurael is gleefully firing salvo after salvo of krak missiles into the Traitors’ gun emplacements. Ever since the techmarines took off the twin Powerclaws from brother Amurael’s Dreadnaught chassis and replaced them with a Missile Launcher and Lascannon; Brother Amurael has somewhat mellowed out. He is far less likely to charge the enemy position regardless of the odds and now would much prefer to stand back and shoot them down before moving in to crush them under his metal foot plates.

The detachment of Havocs Ashriel put in the right flank is doing a dutiful job of supporting brother Amurael’s assault, firing heavy bolter rounds into the enemy to keep them occupied and disoriented. “Soon…” Thought Ashriel as he turns away to look at the left flank; “Soon they will break”.

The salvaged Dark Angels Imperial Basilisk on the left flank has been bombarding the Traitors’ position since morning and although it is protected by the nearby woods, there is nothing else on the left flank but a lone Dark Angels Predator tank to guard it. Ashriel can see that the traitor’s commander has seen this weakness in his lines and is moving troops to exploit it; guerrilla fighters are even now emerging from the woods carrying bombs and grenades to engage and probably destroy the Basilisk and Predator. With the Left flank gone, the Traitors will have broken through the Dark Angels’ lines and can attack Ashriel’s forces from behind, effectively boxing in the Dark Angels between their fort and army. Ashriel must act now to snatch victory from defeat.

Grim faced, his smile all but forgotten, Ashriel scans the Traitor’s lines to be sure of the enemy’s disposition before issuing his orders. Elements are moving from the right flank to the left, probably to anticipate the destruction and consequent breakthrough on the Dark Angels’ left flank, and to escape brother Amurael’s furious assault. The enemy’s central elements look to be holding for now but they will soon be overwhelmed by the Battle Brothers steady and disciplined assault.

Satisfied that everything is moving according to Brother-Captain Zuriel’s design, Ashriel activates his inter-armor link.

“Brother Halmeth, the traitors have reached the kill-zone.”

From behind the central offensive, in a hidden position behind some walls, Brother Halmeth’s gravelly voice comes over the growl of his assault group’s activated jump-packs; “About time.”

“Strike, brother,” Answered Ashriel; “Show them the Emperor’s wrath.”

Roaring with unadulterated rage, the nine man assault team lead by Brother Halmeth came into Ashriel’s view, soaring over the battlefield to land in the midst of the surprised flanking Traitors. Brother Halmeth himself landed directly on top of a traitor, crushing him under the weight of his power armor. Blood and brain matter spraying his armor, turning it red with the first kill. His Jump-pack turned off without a thought; Brother Halmeth began laying about him; each swipe of his chain-axe taking a limb or head, each bolt pistol shot knocking a traitor from his feet. Halmeth roared a sky splitting roar over the kills and started to enter a state of semi-conscious killing frenzy, his warriors following suit. The nine assault marines hacked and butchered the flanking force.

Brother Ashriel saw the slaughter on the left flank and hoped that Brother Halmeth remembers his orders. The state of semi-conscious frenzy that the brother assault marines enter is not something that Ashriel understands nor does he want to. As long as they perform their duties, the end result very much justifies the means. After all, their former… allegiance… did not care much on whose blood was spilt as long as blood was spilt.

The destruction of the traitors flanking force by brother Halmeth’s marines took a direct impact on the traitor’s lines; it wavered and stopped moving to the left; most probably fearful and a little intimidated. Tanks and other fast moving elements milled about confused somewhere in the middle of the lines while the right flank is still moving back from brother Amurael’s assault.

“A brilliantly planned assault, Brother-Captain Zuriel” Thought Ashriel begrudgingly, “With the Traitors crushed on the Left Flank and the ones on the right flank being pushed back, they have come into the killing assault of my Battle Brothers in the middle from which there will be no escape, yes… brilliant.”

“Well” Ashriel thought, shaking himself out of his musings; “It is out of my hands now, the lines have met. But at least it gets simple from here on out.”

Striding down to the center of the battlefield, he activated his helmet’s vox-link and gave his command squad the order to engage.

-Steven-

“Appear weak when you are strong, and strong when you are weak.” – Sun Tzu, The Art of War

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2 thoughts on “A Short Story: The Redeemed”

    1. Thanks dude, I did write this short story after playing a game, it was at low points, at the very beginning of the campaign where the story is that all the players start with a small scouting force

      Like

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