Marienburg, Empire. Year 1693…. To a gathering of seasoned sailors, this was but another dull tavern in some far away port, in some far-flung corner of the Olde World. Having been drinking since well before the Bell of Marienburg sounded noon, the crewmen of the privateer vessel Queen Bess's Bounty was merely passing away the doldrums of existence, waiting for their Captain to set sell on yet another successful venture. The shore leave here in Marienburg was but another passage of time between the challenges of true adventuring. A chance to spend some of their hard-earned gold coins and revel in the simple pleasures only sailors having been at sea for eight months could understand. Outside the Barge Wright Inn, a fog had settled over the merchant city of Marienburg this chilly winter evening, draping everything in its clammy grasp. The damp cobbled streets shine as the light of swaying street lanterns dance across the slick stones. Far out on the Marienburg Sound, a muffled foghorn warns approaching vessels of the dangerous rocks jutting up from the Mananspoort Sea. The cold fog chills the bones and shivers the soul of anyone outside. The sea is rough this evening, rocking the docked vessels in the harbor to and fro. Yet inside the tavern walls the food is hearty and the ale is warm and frothy. A fire blazes in the twin hearths and the taproom is alive with the clink of tankards and the tumbling voices of merchants and sailors alike. Nearby the hearth a heavily robed figure sits, on a worn stool, warming his hands and draining tankard after tankard of ale. A group of sailors is playing at bones near the fire as well, talking in somewhat hushed voices. “So anyways, I aska da Captain where we be headed once the repairs are done, and he motions me to the map table. There he spreads out a bunch of charts and maps showing the eastern coastline of Lustria. The maps look old, and I see a bunch of handwritten remarks in the margins in a language I don’t understand.” A violent bout of coughing from the hooded figure interrupts the conversion. The barkeep, One Eyed Willy, yells out to the figure. “You be alrighty there Greybeard? Can't hold yer ale, is it?” The figure, still hunched over, motioned with his hand that he was not in trouble, all the while draining another tankard. Most of the bar patrons laughed at the chiding. The conversation continued…. “Anyways mates. So, the maps show some sort of ruins inland from the Vampire Coast, with another series of runes I still can’t read. When I ask the captain what it all means, he tells me he doesn’t know either but the seadog he bought the map from tells him that these charts can lead an intrepid adventurer to something called the Font of Youth.” “What is dat den? Ze Font of Youth, I ne’er heard of zat?” “That’s whata I asked da Captain mate. And he tells me that legends say it is a lost treasure trove of Dwarven gold and weapons. Enough gold to make a man rich beyond his wildest dreams, and keep him in wine, women and luxury for the rest of his days! And another rumor says it’s a magical lake that iffin a man swims in it he will be restored in both youth and vitality” “And da Captain thinks we should sail halfway across the Olde World based on some old charts and a drunken seadog babbling? Has the captain gone soft in the head mate?” “You know as well as I do da Captain doesn’t go into a venture without researching it first. Remember the horde of Tanner MacBride? Nobody believed the pirate had a fortune in Elven jewels buried near Hell's Teeth, but da Captain found one of his old crew and garnered the whereabouts of Tanner’s lost logbook what detailed the exact location to dig. And when the merchants of Tobaro laughed at the rumor of the Isla de la Morse, da Captain went to the scholars of the temple of Mannan and found an ancient text penned by a Tilean fryer that had been to the island. That turned out to be a lucrative venture, now, didn’t it? Yes sir, when Captain Brummel McBride sets his mind to something, he is neither rash nor unprepared. He tells me he even knows of a fella here in Marienburg that has been to Lustria and seen the Font itself!” The robed figure near the hearth started giggling to himself, his shoulders shaking as he laughed. “Did I say something funny old man?” The figure turned on his stool to face the sailors. His face was pocked mocked with age, his wispy grey beard running the full length of his face to fall to the floor. A look of wisdom and power shown from his eyes, making several of the sailors turn away from his fierce countenance. He moved his two tankards of ale to their table, removing his leather cap to reveal a bald pate which he dabbed with a cloth. “Ye needn't be afraid of me brave mariners. I am but a humble old man that enjoys hearing a good yarn. I couldn’t help but hear your tales and thought you might be interested in hearing a few of my own. But heed, these tales are both true and terrifying, courage found in the bottom of a tankard may not be enough to stave off the chills…” “What are ye babbling about old man? We are talking of treasure, adventure and wealth.” “Ye, I know this well sailor. And having been to see the wonders of Lustria in all her savage glory, the thought I might tell ye about the conflict of Dwarven Captain Sheer and his nemesis Orc Pirate Kaptain BlackSquig and their quest for the Font of Youth. Attend me if you will…” Before he started to tell his tell, the Old Grey Beard shook his empty tankard towards the men of the Queen Bess's Bounty….

Seven years ago, when the world was young...

 

The Dead of Winter: Warhammer Quest

Nordland, Imperial Year 1248.

A single howl breaks the silence of the sleeping Stirland Expanse, Ludwig stirring inside his lean-to. The seasoned veteran draws closer his woolen great-coat, proof against the frigid winds of winter. Accustomed to the mournful wails of wolves, a chill still runs down his spine as he roses abruptly from his fitful slumber. Leagues away from the sheltering walls of Bevrorenhaven, leagues away from strong drink and stronger women, leagues away from safety….

Exhausted and starving, Ludwig had collapsed, barely enough strength left in his body to erect the crude wooden shelter and snuggle inside before fresh snow began to fall. All traces of his passage through the canyon now gone, as if he never existed. In the pink of the full moon above, he waited, clutching at his oaken pistol, one of the few possessions he carried after the War of Ostermark Succession had run its ruinous course.

A deserter, Ludwig had seen enough death at the hands of foppish leaders playing at war, their glory, his death. His rucksack held the soddened remains of his Stirland colors, yellow and emerald, hidden from view. His frozen feet ached at this point; he could only imagine the now forming blackness of frostbite taking hold. He would need a leech once he reached Bevrorenhaven, of this, he was sure.

And then he sees it, a monstrous black dot emerging from the wood line of the canyon, lopping towards the ex-Imperial soldier with purpose and malice.

Numb fingers shaking from the cold, Ludwig steadies his had as best he can, and slowly cocks back the trigger on his pistol, his one shot, his one chance. His mind numbly acknowledges the approaching monster, even as his body fights to move. Shaking his violently, Ludwig forces his body to obey, the fetid breath of the beast reaching the lean-too, increasing its speed to a slavering charge as it bore down on its prey. Standing and aiming, Ludwig pulls the trigger.

The report of the pistol shatters the silence, its discharge roaring in his ears. As he looks beyond the lean-too, he sees the beast sprawled in the snow, blood pumping from a going wound in its now ruined face. He had done it! The years of practice paying off as his shot was true. Soon the beast fell silent, and Ludwig dropped to his knees in the snow, his arms crossed in suppressed gratitude that Sigmar had guided his hand. He cried out the Nordland Expanse with screams of joy, which suddenly caught in his throat. More than a half dozen more black shapes have emerged from the wood line, moving towards the lean-too.

Ludwig had forgotten, wolves travel in packs…

 

Return to Megiddo Prime: A Killteam Campaign

The Era Indomitus, 999.M41 Reality tears itself apart from the Hadex Anomaly at the core of the Jericho Reach in the Eastern Fringe, to the furthest star system of the Segmentum Obscurus. From that hole come Warp Storms not seen since the Age of Strife, cutting off the galactic north from Terra. The initial period, known as the Noctis Aeterna -- or the Blackness -- is terrible indeed. For a time, all Warp travel is impossible and the far-spread planets of the Imperium are isolated, with no travel or astropathic communication between them. Worlds in their hundreds fall before the ensuing Chaos onslaught. The pulsing Great Rift or Cicatrix Maledictum spreads like an impenetrable curtain, robbing entire systems of the holy light of Terra. The birth of the Great Rift marks the start of what will be called by Imperial savants the Era Indomitus. 

Upon Megiddo Prime, a planet on the mend following a five-year war of reclamation and forty-nine-year rebuilding process, is cut off from the Imperium of Man once more. The warp storms created by the great rift ripple across the asteroid fields surrounding Shekkle’s System, animating, and spinning the rocks into one another, causing them to swing out of their orbits, colliding with one another in flashes of energy and explosions that can be seen from the surface of Megiddo Prime herself. For weeks following the first of the storms, the cold night skies are lit by blazing comet trails and blossoming explosions. Harbingers of things yet to come. 

Cut off from the Emperor’s Beckon and stable warp gates, the prefects of the planetary government and garrisoned Ultra Marines scramble to find out the cause of this sudden severing of communications. Within a month no space travel is permissible, the sea of rocks sent spinning into motion create a grinding gulf system wide, ships attempting travel outflank and pulverized by city sized fragments or perforated by streams of fast-moving rock that shear aside shielding and armored plates with ease. Within another few weeks, rivers of rock and asteroids pelt the surface of Megiddo Prime, shattering orbital docks and defense stations and pounding the planets frozen surface. Megiddo prime was at war with the stars, a war it could not win. Production of fuel and minerals came to a standstill as refineries and Hab blocks were obliterated, men and materials smashed and vaporized even as planetary laser silos sought to destroy planet killer sized asteroids, power crystals soon going dark after days of constant firing. The forces of the Imperium on Megiddo Prime fought an isolated war of preservation while the rest of the galaxy descended into flame, would there be anything left once the Indomitus Crusade finally reach the beleaguered system?

The forces of the Orks, seeing the Traitor legions had the same idea as they did for the Hive, rushed forward in a great Waaaaaagh! The forces of Chaos were not to be denied and both armies threw themselves upon the defenses of Artemis Hive. Artillery thundered into the ranks of approaching aliens, the Vindicators of the Black Templars blowing apart huge units of Ork Boyz. The Ultramarines surged forward to meet the hated forces of the Angels of Rapture, bolters, flamers and chainswords seeking a blessed end to the foul traitors. From elevated positions along the Hive walls, Space Marine scouts sniped enemy leaders, sowing confusion in the ranks of the Orks, even as the Traitor Guard continued their bombardment! Chaos tainted Hellhounds surged forward, ancient melta guns reducing the Ultramarine tanks to piles of molten slag. Hordes of Bloodletters surged forward to engage the crews of the destroyed tanks, even as the Land Raiders of the Ultramarines ground forward. At a turning point of the battle, a squad of Angels of Rapture Terminators teleports into the heart of the Ultramarine position, bolters scything down defenders as their lighting claws began to glow. Perjurious had seen this tactic used by the Traitor Legionnaires once before and had prepared for the move. The Angels were met by squads of Ultramarine 1st company Terminators that lumbered into battle from their transports, their power fists soon reducing the traitors to a bloody pulp, even as many of them were themselves disemboweled by lighting claws that slashed through their armored bodies. No less than 30 Terminators dueled to the death as the battle raged around them. Ork mobs overran the defenders south of the Hive and entered the Hive proper, choppas waving and trukks belching smoke. 

They didn’t sense the rumblings in the ground around them as they moved in for the kill. Squads of Ultramarines were set upon and the Ork wall was pushing the Ultramarines back towards their staging area. Several Ork Battle wagons lumbered into view, dozens of Boyz hanging on the crude frame, shootas blazing! Just as they rounded the street before the Genetorium, the wagons were blasted asunder by the screaming arrival of the Blood Angel Thunderhawks, Commander Dante himself, along with his Honor Guard and dozens of squads of Assault Marines plowed into the advancing Ork lines, powers swords and bolt pistols driving the aliens back. Captain Lycar of the Black Templars and his bodyguard of Terminators emerged from their Land Raider and assailed the Ork Warboss. Thunder Hammer glanced off Power Claw, Power Claw glanced off Thunder Shield as the two leaders clashed. As the battle wore on, the Warboss slipped on the accumulated ice and blood. This was all the opening Lycar needed. He swung his thunder hammer downwards, the Ork leaders head exploding in a burst of gore and metal. As the Ork dropped, his nearby boyz lost heart and began to retreat. A ragged cheer went up from the refugees and defenders as the Ork fell, even as screams of warning failed to reach the ears of Lycar. The shadow cast by the Bloodthrister blotted out the feeble sunlight, even as it raised its mighty axe to split the Marine in twain. As Lycar spun to face the new foe, he knew he would not be in time to deflect the blow even as he brought his shield around to his front. Suddenly the Bloodthrister dropped its axe from numb hands and toppled forward into the snow, dead! Looking past the Bloodthrister, Lycar saw the thumbs up from a squad of Ultramarine snipers, which even now were searching for new targets. The back of the head of Khorne demon had been blown out, the vile fluids staining the snows red! 

As the tide of battle turned once more in the favor of the Imperium, new reserves of Ultramarines moved to the front, bolters tearing holes in the remaining Orks, while they fought sword to sword with the Angels of Rapture. For their part, the followers of Slaneesh fought with all the ferocity of the Khorne demons, scything down Loyalists with glee. Commander Dante and his marines continued to harry the Orks, cutting down Tankbustas, Stormboys and Nobz as the murderous greenskins fell back. A thundering burst from the Traitor Guard Basilisks rained down upon his position, many of his warriors being destroyed in a blast of heavy shelling. Remaining Orks did drive by shoota attacks upon the survivors, even Dante himself falling to the thunderous firepower the Orks were packing. Even as he fell, a force of Killa Kans overran the defensive lines, hacking apart Black Templars, while cackling Tankbsutas moved into position to assault the enemy tanks. A force of Bloodletters fell upon Lycar and his remaining guards. The ensuing combat was bloody as sword strokes were parried, counter parried and returned. Even as mighty a warrior as he was, Lycar soon found himself alone against the demons and fell beneath a flurry of chopping blades. Ordering the reserves in from the south, Perjurious joined his troops as they threw back the invaders, spent bolter cartridges lining the bloody street as the force of demons lost hold on their forms and began to disappear into the warp. Seeing the Orks still fighting but reduced in number and isolated into small pockets of resistance, the Angels of Rapture decided they had had enough of this planet and withdrew to their transport ships. 

The battle for Artemis Hive was won! 

Cheers went out among the victors as more reinforcements arrived from space. The battle, though costly, had been won. Soon the flag of the Ultramarines was raised above Artemis Hive, along with the flag of the 27th Combined Arms Division. A gesture that the Ultramarines found to be highly justified and well deserved! As the victors consolidated their win, the western horizon was lit by balefire and smoke. The peaks their tumbled into the ground as more fissures opened in the ice, kilometer wide tracks of land tumbling into the bubbling magma abyss. As the defenders stared on, awestruck, a might Blackstone Fortress bubbled up from the lava, here forcefields sparking from the heat, her hull glowing super-heated white! The alien artifact hovered in few for several minutes, Ork Fight Bommas making failed strafing runs against it as there were burned up in the shields of the craft. Then with a hum that grew to deafening proportions, the craft screamed into orbit and disappeared. It seemed as if the Night Lords had achieved their objective on Megiddo Prime.

In the aftermath of the war, Commander Dante and Captain Lycar were found among the dead and wounded and the Apothecaries from over a dozen chapters fought for the right to restore these two warriors to health. The 27th Combined Arms Division was credited with turning the war, Lord Commander Isen was awarded the Emperor’s Cross. In terms of lives lost, the final numbers were in the hundreds of thousands, both civilian and military. The remaining Orks fled the planet surface in crude transports and commandeered craft. Many were shot down by the Imperial Navy, the rest dispersed among the stars. The Traitor Guard surrendered at Zebra Station and were incarcerated in the Penal Colony under the tender mercies of the Inquisition. Exterminous was halted and Megiddo Prime was gradually restored to the Emperor’s light. Tithes were reestablished and within ten years after the wars end, she became once more an Imperial World, with all the rights and privileges accorded. A force of Ultramarines established a permanent garrison on Hoarfrost Ridge, Captain Perjurious himself blessed the facility before leaving Megiddo Prime. 

As he moved to board his transport ship, the Captain stooped, removed his gauntlet, and picked up a handful of fresh snow. As he let the flakes fall between his fingers, he gazed first to the west and then to the stars. The Night Lords had used the war here as a mere distraction for them to find and recover an ancient and secreted Blackstone Fortress. In their hands now was a powerful artifact that would be turned to vile uses. What dire consequences would this mean for the Imperium, he wondered as he walked up the ramp, that closed behind him with a final metallic clang...

The war-torn surface of Megiddo Prime has suffered for eight battle scarred years. The forces of Chaos and the forces of the Imperium have continued their endless war with one another, this planet yet another footnote in their bloody eon’s long war. With the coming of spring to the planet’s surface, the harsh winter winds are subsiding, and the surface temperature is rising. Great vent of steam once more rise from smoking fissures, the Virgrid Plains are crumbling as the layer of permafrost is melting for unknown reasons. Theories run wild among the Adepts of the Imperium, speculations ranging from an opening Warp Gate to geothermal spikes to planetary fission. One thing remains certain, the surface of the planet is starting to crack under the strain of battle! Driven from the Virgrid Plains by the expanding fissures, the Orks dwelling there have set upon the forces of the Ultramarines once more. An army of thousands of greenskins march upon the defenses of the Artemis Hive, hell-bent upon capturing the crown jewel of Megiddo Prime. The combined forces of the Ultramarine 6th company and the 27th Combined Arms Division had been reinforcing the Hive City over the course of the past 5 months. The Orks ran into an array of minefields, razorwire defense lines and dozens of newly formed Bastions. Their crude trukks and ramshackle vehicles blossomed in the morning sun as they hit the minefields, Orks pin wheeling through the air as their transports were blown asunder! As the assault ground to a halt, the Orks struggled to reform as batteries of Quad Guns, Medusa launchers and Basilisks rained down tons of ordnance on their lines. The Orks were pounded for hours as they sought cover. The Ork Warbosses cracked heads and killed underlings as they sought to find a way through the defenses. Each of their ploys was meant with heavy resistance from the Imperials forces. Kommandos stalked through the minefields, only to run into booby trapped trenches and Ratling snipers. Feints with Stormboys and trukkboys were countered with rapid reserves of Stormtroopers and Marine scouts. Three days of continued bombardment were starting to take the toll in Ork bodies. On the fourth day of the battle, the stalemate was broken. Forces of Night Lords, infiltrating through the lines beyond the trenches, were able to assail the Basilisk guns with melta bombs. 

With the guns silenced, the Orks drove thousands of Grots through the minefields, their Runtherd masters using grabbastikk and squighounds to goad the little monsters into the mines. As hundreds of Grot bodies were thrown skyward by the blasts, the Ork trukks and boyz surged forward, throwing themselves upon the forces of the Imperium. Marine, Guardsman and Ork locked in deadly hand to hand combat as the greenskins sought to break the back of the defenders through sheer numbers. As the battle looked like it was turning against the Imperials, help arrived from above…. The orbit around Megiddo Prime was choked with asteroids, planetary dust clouds and drifting wrecks. The battle in the heavens around Megiddo Prime had raged even longer than the ground attack. Contact with the fleets had been lost but the battle for space supremacy raged none the less. Orks, Imperial and Chaos cruisers all clashed in and around the asteroid fields for many years now, the Orks gaining the upper hand for much of the campaign. Their insane asteroid pilots cared little for their ships, going full thrust through the spinning mazes of rocks to emerge on the other side and launching attacks on both Chaos and Imperial alike. With the arrival of an immense Rok, the Orks gained the upper hand for some time; the rest of the space vessels could do little more than hit and run attacks, trying to keep the Ork commanders off balance. As the seventh year of fighting came to an end, this would all change…. A force of Ultramarine and Blood Angel Battle Cruisers emerged from warp space in system and moved to engage the Orks at close range. Unprepared for the sudden appearance of reinforcements, the Orks scrambled to counter the Adeptus Astartes. But to no avail. The Space Marines proceeded to unleashed payloads of torpedoes into the Ork Rok, blasting it into thousands of pieces that burned up in the atmosphere or joined the eternal dance of asteroids orbiting the planet. With the seemingly easy destruction of the Rok, the Orks commanders ordered their remaining ships to leave orbit and seek safety in the asteroid belt beyond Megiddo’s sun. 

With the space lanes open to landings, Thunderhawk gunships, laden with Blood Angles and Ultramarines prepared for a surface assault. Led by the legendary Chapter Master Dante, the Blood Angels were given the honor of setting down upon Megiddo Prime first…. Even as the Imperium’s finest warriors prepared to land, the forces of Chaos played their final card. A vast army of Traitor Guard, under the lashes of the Angels of Rapture, moved down from the north and engaged the defenders at Artemis Hive. Hundreds of tanks, many of them barely able to move or in need of repairs, lumbered into position north of the Hive, a mustering of armored might not seem yet in the eight years of war. Immediately the bombardments began. Megatons of heavy shells rained down upon the Hive. Soon, the corroded armored skin of the Hive began to crack and crumble under the strain of the bombardment, metric tons of debris falling into the ice choked streets below. The loss of civilian life was horrendous, many of the workers unable to avoid the collapsing structure and retreating out into the teeth of the Angels of Rapture! Bolters grew red hot as the Traitor Marines gunned down thousands of refugees. Soon a great pile of steaming corpses littered the northern groundscape, and here the Cultists preformed their terrible ritual. A huge gaping hole opened in the permafrost, vile gasses spewing forth from the fissure, followed by insane cackling! A great host of Demons were vomited forth through the fissure. Flesh Hounds, Bloodletters and even a mighty Bloodthrister emerged from the rift and fell upon the hapless refugees! The carnage was sickening but mercifully quick as the host of Khorne bellowed at the Hive walls and moved to engage the Ultramarines. And so, the final bloody day of fighting on Megiddo Prime began…… 

The horrors of that final day of battle were too numerous to recall, though halo vids continued to record every event during the battle. As dawn broke upon Megiddo Prime, the fissures in the Virgrid Plains began to widen into kilometer long scars, tons of ice and snow vaporizing in an instant as the superheated gases wafted into the chill air. Soon great streams of liquid hot magma bubbled to the surface, the tortured land screaming out its agonies. Captain Perjurious of the Ultramarines 6th Company could only gaze with small concern at the distant thermal activity. Arrayed before him was the might of his enemy. Three full companies of Angels of Rapture, hundreds of thousands of traitor Guard and a host of Khorne demons stood before his dwindling forces. Reinforced overnight by the Ultramarine 4th and 5th company, as well as a detachment of Black Templars, his own company waited for the final push. The order to withdraw had been given overnight and the 27th Combined Arms Division had been transported off planet via Valkeries, their Lord Commander Isen renouncing the decision but understanding Perjurious was his superior. The 27th had fought valiantly during the war but the Emperor degreed their time on Megiddo Prime was done, they were to move with all haste to the Minos Cluster to deal with a Tyranid incursion there. So only the Emperors finest troops remained behind to rearguard the final evacuation of Megiddo Prime. The Inquisitor Stallman Klim had requested and received approval to submit the planet to the fires of the Exterminatus.