Hexos Crisis IC

[Graf Tzarogy]

Castles in the Air

There's a party going on at the Curator's house. Loud bass-boosted hyper-emo TauPop shakes the (mostly broken) plate glass windows, as a crowd of stinking scavvies and scarred mercenaries and bloodied teenagers fuck shit up. SMASH! goes an electric keytar used in the band-brigades of Cadia; CRASH! goes a case holding the Challenge Coins for seventy-three generations of Inquisitors. "CHUG! CHUG! CHUG!" yells some ganglanders in a corner, egging on some kid covered in more soot than clothes. She almost gets through the bottle of Gorsk White Gyn – but retches at the last moment, and to a dozen hearty backslaps, covers with vomit three volumes of the only extant chronicle of the history of Hexos during Old Night.

Gulian, pulling out of the crowd, looks at the set, green ooze of half-digested rations sinking into fine vellum (probably not human!). There's an illustration on a mostly intact page: a map of the universe, Hexos marked. He tears it out. "WOOH!" a drunk person shouts beside him and smashes a mahogany chair into splinters on a marble rail. By dawn, most of the neighborhood will be razed.

But by then, he's long gone. He takes a secret passage, up a little winding staircase at the very edge of the Hive. There, on a forgotten fire escape, you could see most of Heptaros' gleaming spires; no chemfog up here. There were fires, scattered – some rattat as some failed escapees made a final stand. But there was mostly celebration – screaming, crying, exploding; fireworks and grenades, block parties and minor riots.

He looked at it all and tried to remember. Tried to count all the times this'd be done. From some tall tower, what looked like a statue of the Governor was flung off a top story; it hit a floating oxygenator which broke off its head – and burning drone and imperial skull fell like a meteor into the cheering mob.

He tried to recall those too. When the stars had fallen from the skies. Drop-pods or artillery shells or rods-of-god it hardly mattered. A man had said – not more than eight hours ago: "Sensei Gulian – we've won!". It was only the second layer of defenses. A seeking mine had taken off his head.

Or maybe that had been the last time, or the first time, or a thousand years ago. His eyes blur – because of the smoke – as he finds he doesn't know what round this is.

He looked down, down below, where the pit beckoned. Hell below, literally now. Sorrow and damnation. But he was up here, looking, and not yet there.

He took the page from his pocket, and with a click, set it aflame.

Hexos burnt anew.

And Gulian watched the embers fall into the infinite dark.

 

[Havocfett]

0500.137 M42

The first half of the year had been marked by adaptations to the war entering a new front. With a crusade fleet in theater, and with murder rather than negotiation on the mind, defense suddenly rose to the top of many's priority list.

Enormous entrenchment projects sprung up across the planet. Fortified warehouses on the Siete Coast, bunker-lines across the lower hives, tunnel networks through the Shichi Metroplex, and hidden redoubts around the Sab'a Mines and Yedi Wastes. Nevermind the self-perpetuating chaos trenchlines south of the hive. The planet had weathered its first strikes, and would only grow more difficult to take as time went on.

But these were the least of the changes coming to the planet.

The Siete Coast had spun up an Official Revolutionary Mint. Their new Hexos Sevenpence were backed by the enormous quantities of food being delivered to the needy across the planet, and the supply packets being given to refugees fleeing the fighting. It was also, very clearly, being accepted and used by some of the many aliens on the planet. Though adoption was not centralized, with most of the revolutionary governments fully unaware of the currency's creation until it was announced, the reliability of being able to buy food from refugee services (Or a favor from myriad xenos) saw it being adopted very widely.

News of the currency, however, was rather overshadowed by news of Governor Despyre's treason against mankind. Evidence reached newscasters that the self-proclaimed Governor had been collaborating with Xenos. At first speculative and clearly Imperial in nature, holo-picts of the Governor treating with a necron cryptek in front of a disarmed macro-charge swiftly spread across the system. Then rumors of him speaking with stranger things yet in the mid-hive. Protests demanded the Governor's head across the planet. An embassy of Tau aid workers in the mid-hive was besieged by a lynch mob, and would have been torn apart if their escort hadn't fired upon the crowd.

Then, as chaos attacked the lower hive, an entire legion of xenos appeared to defend it. Nicassar, traitor humans, demiurg (Which most on Hexos assumed were merely well-fed traitor ratlings), kroot, and vespid stood against the most hated enemies of mankind and saved millions from their depradations. In the Asaa valley, a necron monolith turned back the Profane Host. In the upper hive, rumors persisted of strange mutants sheltering hundreds of thousands from orbital bombardment.

And, suddenly, the governor's position began to grow more understandable.

He was still a divisive figure: Millions of civilians across the system wanted him dead. But if these strange aliens hated Horus as much as any good, emperor-fearing citizen of the Imperium, were they really worse than, say, the now-deceased arbites?

The jury was still out, but that was a significant improvement from the year's start.

Both of these developments were watched with keen eyes by the rising revolutionary government. The Middle Hive had turned into an impromptu center of power, as nearly half the remaining revolutionary governments discussed the path forwards. Though Tau diplomats formed an essential part of making the government work, the real winners were the Levellers, whose ideology of equality, legal emigration from the spire, and being allowed to see sunlight more than once a week quickly won billions of supporters.

By the year's mid-point, The Revolutionary Government for the Liberation of the Hexos System in General, and Hexos VII in particular, had been established and the Levellers were enjoying a surge of support the likes of which they'd never seen.

Spoiler

Outcome:
Sab'a Mine, Lower Hive, Yedi Wastes, Siete Coast, and Shichi Metroplex all fortify.

Self-declared Governor Despyre is tarred as a xeno-collaborator to the entire system. Incredibly obvious proof of this, and the vaporization of a lynch mob by a Tau security detail, solidify this image in the public mind.

Xenos saving the lives of millions of civilians from chaos, along with concerted public relations campaigns, results in a significant increase in popularity for xeno-collaboration.

A strong political campaign sees Levellism enjoy a surge of popularity planet wide, especially in the Mid Spire.

The Hexos Sevenpence enjoys widespread adoption as a currency due to its reliable exchange rate with food and use by various xeno parties.

End Of Turn One

 

[dash931]

Kill For The Emperor

Theah doesn't remember making the decision.

She knows the timeframe of it, the place. She was... Yes, right here, standing in front of her command throne on the bridge of the Deep Glory, the ancient flagship of the PDF Maritime Command. And the Deep Glory was here, too. At anchor outside the Siete Coast's main port, along with the rest of the bulk of the 1st Surface Fleet. It was midday and light drizzle overcast, though. Not nighttime and clear skies as it is now.

They're close enough to shore that Theah can bring up her magnoculars and see her uncle's warehouse on the dock. She remembers eating eel pie on the roof. Her family wasn't poor, but the days that Maritime Command had any prestige in the Planetary Defense Force were long past. So give the command post to the merchant lowblood, none of her betters want it.

Yes, she was standing right here, looking through these same magnoculars. Trying to pick out her uncle's warehouse like this. Spotting it, and seeing that there were rioters swarming the street and dock in front of it. There was an effigy of the inquisitor being burned at the stake. Shift back and forth across the docks, drink in more of the vast crowd boiling with hate and rebellion.

And the Adeptus Arbites judge was... There. The acid cleaning solution scoured the blood off the metal, but it's still a touch shinier than the metal around it. Their boots haven't quite grimed it up again.

Theah doesn't remember the words. There were written orders, she remembers reading them, picking out the meaning, but she doesn't remember the words, written or spoken. Just the tone. The Arbite ordering her on her bridge. Not harshly, not even unkindly, just routinely. Workmanlike rote. She supposes she must have said something too, or just, gave some gesture, with how the bridge staff were working to punch in the firing solution. Or maybe she didn't, maybe the Arbite ordered them and they obeyed, no need for her. She doesn't remember.

In a certain sense, it really wasn't special. Doing violence to her fellow man has always been the job. Rising through the ranks had a kind of relief to it, distancing herself from the riot massacres, and Maritime Command got her out from Hive Heptos, where they were most common. And it meant she could go home. A kind of childish glee that she was in the fancy big ships too, sailing them into port.

It was a living. A comfortable one, and all the more the higher up the ranks she got. By the time she was here on the Deep Glory, the work was on the other side of paperwork and voxcaster messages, and she got used to only hearing gunfire during training. The shooting range and gunnery drills. Wargames reenacting clashing with Ork wetships that have been rotting on the seabed for four thousand years.

Admiral Theah was dutiful, pious, loyal, ignorant. Had risen to heights of power yet knew her place. She was happy. Of course she was. She was the pinncle of what someone of her birth could aspire to be.

Then the Inquisitor declared her hometown too riddled with treason to save, and ordered the Adeptus Arbites to see to its holy eradication. The Adeptus Arbites in turn ordered the Planetary Defense Forces to lend the necessary weight of firepower. And the Planetary Defense Forces ordered Maritime Command to handle it as the closest military force at hand, based out of Siete Coast that they are.

The judge said something. What was his name again? It's written down somewhere. But he said something about the orders. Honor, she thinks? Yes, that sounds right. A comment on how the Deep Glory can once again know the honor of killing the enemies of the Emperor.

Then she pulled her sidearm and shot him. She doesn't remember that either. She remembers the weight and heat of it in her hand, the plasma light glimmering on the gilding. Another relic from the Ork war, from when Maritime Command was the pinnacle of Hexos's military prestige.

The silence, she remembers that though. The world coming back in. The sensation of merely spectating herself becoming a traitor draining away.

One heartbeat. Two. Three, four. Felt in her ears. A deep breath, aborted by gagging on the burnt meat reek. Then thumbing the safety on, and giving orders. Taking control.

It felt good.

Theah uses her magnoculars to look up into the night sky. Picking out the off-color, over-bright star of the spacedocks.

...The hell with it.

=== === ===

From: Admiral Theah, RevGov PDF Maritime Command
To: Father Paulinius, The Army of the Emperor's Will (@Zorakov ), Open Channel Broadcast

If you will excuse my lack of preamble, I feel compelled to ask. And, with my honor proven by the refugee corridors I joined hands with your Lord Marshal to organize and faithfully carry out, I feel privileged of an answer.

Why did you even join the rebellion in the first place?

You could have just taken the Emperor's Will out from the spacedocks, sheltered inside the asteroid belt, and then simply sat things out waiting for the Imperium and Angels of Death to arrive. No need to stain yourself with the blood of an Inquisitor by clasping hands with their killers. There must have been a reason, a compelling one, to court death and damnation that way.

But after the Imperium arrives, you declare that they are righteous and that we are your true enemies.

So why?

 

[EarthScorpion]

Article:

ARTICLES OF FAITH OF THE SECOND CHURCH
OF THE DIVINE SPIRIT (REFORMED)
OF HAB-BLOCK 232-Delta-4983-Gamma

​

1. WE believe in the Divine Spirit, which is of equal parts Intellect, Will, and Faith.
2. THE Intellect of the Divine Spirit, which Men call the Omnissiah, knows all and understands the Universe in all things and through that understanding permits all things to exist.
3. THE Will and Faith of the Divine Spirit came together, seeing the suffering of Man in the Dark Times, and in their unity incarnated into a mortal vessel that Men call the Golden Saint.
4. THE Golden Saint was born to Holy Terra, just as Man was in ancient times, to bring Will and Faith to Man who had lost such things in the Dark Times.
5. THE White Winged Golden Saint was destined to bring into being the Golden Age of Man, a time of Peace and Equality and Liberty, where all Men are Equal and all great Hierarchies are Levelled.
6. WE believe that there are many Dark Gods but they are but fruits of a single tree and the name of this Great Foe is Dominion.
7. DOMINION was the firstborn favoured son of the Divine Spirit and sought to rise above all others, saying "I Am Greater Than All Others".
8. THOSE who set themselves above others and lay claim to the labour of their fellows are servants of only Dominion, and shall forever suffer in the shackles of their Dark Master - in this life and after death.
9. THE servants of Dominion sought to prevent the Golden Age that was meant to come.
10. THROUGH perfidy and treachery, the Golden Saint was betrayed by those who feared the coming Golden Age, and cast down by the Traitor Horus, who sought to rule the galaxy.
11. AS a child of Will and Faith, the Golden Saint could not be slain by the Dark Forces aligned against him, and so they imprisoned him.
12. THE servants of Dominion built a Throne, which was the symbol of everything he Was Not, and imprisoned him within it, and called the Saint an Emperor so that his True Cause might be forgotten and they might rule eternally.
13. FIRST of the High Lords of Terra, who serve only Ambition and Treachery and Atheism was the Traitor Horus, and a rotten seed grows only Malice and Hatred.
14. IN the name of Dominion the Traitor Horus built an Imperium and claimed it was the work of the Golden Saint, who he called an Emperor, and he ruled in his name.
15. IMPRISONED upon a throne of false gold is the Golden Saint, and he suffers watching the evils and wickedness done in this era that should have been a Golden Age but is now a Long Night.
16. HORUS rules on Terra, granted Eternal Life by Dominion so long as the Golden Saint remains imprisoned.
17. THE world is broken for Will and Faith have been imprisoned by the servants of Dominion, and without those the Divine Spirit is sickened and the world turns towards the cause of Dominion.
18. TO set yourself above your fellow man is to serve only Dominion.
19. TO look down on your fellows serves only Dominion.
20. TO strive against the servants of Dominion is the most righteous deed one can accomplish.
21. TO die for one's brothers and sisters will see you freed from Dominion's shackles.
22. THE Great Levelling is coming.
23. THE Great Levelling will set us all free.
24. THE Great Levelling will set the Golden Saint free.
25. THE Golden Age is Coming.

 

[Aleph]

Deleted drafts and excerpts from the desk of Archon Sraelian Juud

Article:

Addressed to: Ciatrithya Juud, Juud Estate, Commorragh
Encryption level: Venenum

Honoured Grandmother, excellent news: I have made my first strikes against the mon-keigh system, and the lesser races are in disarray. The first slaves - primitive mon-keigh nobility - will be arriving in Commorragh shortly; I will have some directed to the Juud estate for your use. Meanwhile, my kabalites have crippled the governmental and industrial centres of the mon-keigh Hive City, sabotaged the supply lines of the orbital defence guns, scoured the primary centre of the planet's food production and damaged two fleets and a pair of Sororitas detachments. I anticipate that within the star-cycle, the entire sector will be a crippled target for-

Reason for deletion: Probably can't get away with claiming credit for literally everything they do to each other, unfortunately. Not without more falsified evidence than I'm willing to have prepared, anyway. The old bitch will check. Scale it back a bit in the next draft.

---

Article:

Addressed to: Princess Jea'ni, Mythwright Fleet, Hexos System @Gargulec
Encryption level: Telum

Greetings, Anhrathe Princess. You have the honour to be addressed by Sraelian Juud of Commorragh, Archon of the Kabal of the Flayed Face. Your offences against the Noble House of Juud have been marked, and the fate of all trespassers awaits you upon the pain racks of the Haemonculus's lair. I am not ungenerous, however. Swear fealty to House Juud and provide your aid to my kabal, and I shall generously intercede on your behalf with-

Reason for deletion: Her fleet is bigger than mine and her ego is even bigger; she will make it her sole priority to hunt me down and kill me if I send this, and with all the other factions involved it would wreck any chance of achieving my goals here. Also there is a chance, however small, that she might actually succeed.

---

Article:

Addressed to: Succubus Zhuyan, Cult of Ecstatic Dance, Low Commorragh
Encryption level: Bestia

Stop whining about your precious circle; you got almost all the bodies back and Morinteritus will have them back on their feet soon enough. If your wyches can't keep themselves alive against mon-keigh and the odd unexpected mutant, perhaps I should go looking for another cult to ally my kabal to. I can't help but note that my kabalites brought more captives back as well as fewer casualties. Perhaps put more effort into keeping order in your own house before you go criticising mine for-

Reason for deletion: She would carve her way through half my tower trying to kill me in an offended rage and I'd probably have to use at least four of my contingency plans killing her first. And then Morinteritus would try to have me dragged off to one of his lairs while I was vulnerable, and I'd have to burn assets and backup plans disposing of him too. And then Grandmother would show up. All in all, an outcome best avoided.

---

Article:

Addressed to: Master of the Black Legion Fleet, Hexos System @Maugan Ra
Encryption level: Malefica

Salutations, servant of the Primordial Annihilator. I reach out to you, a Drukhari of Commorragh, in search of common cause.
You are no friend of mine, and I am sure the feeling is mutual. You have pledged your soul to She-Who-Thirsts and her siblings, while I fight to keep her teeth from fastening onto my soul. Yet while we are enemies, we share a greater foe. The servants of the Corpse Emperor hold the shipyards above Hexos - shipyards that will repair their fleets even as yours and those of your allies are broken. A combined strike now, before they can secure them-

Reason for deletion: Not going to risk sending this until I know more about who this warlord is and what his goals are. Tempting as it is to play the Dark Gods and the Imperium against each other, I'm not so foolish as to think the commander of a force this size won't have fought my kind before. No tricks until I know what will work on him.

---

Article:

Addressed to: Princess Jea'ni, Mythwright Fleet, Hexos System @Gargulec
Encryption level: Venenum

Hail, Princess Jea'ni. Your deeds are known across the stars, and your memory lingers wherever you have passed. No doubt you're eager to share stories of your past deeds, given the manner in which you announced yourself, and I will do you the courtesy of entertaining your stories of your last visit to Commorragh and the interactions you had there with House Juud.

Reason for deletion: Too obviously probing for information on whatever the fuck she did to leave Grandmother with a grudge strong enough to distract her from me. I can't afford to show weakness or uncertainty to a woman like this.

---

Article:

Addressed to: Whoever The Mon-keigh In Charge Of The Biggest Fleet Is, The Biggest Flagship, Hexos VII Orbit @Guderian2nd, @Crilltic, @Skippy
Encryption level: Telum
Attached technoviral packages: Maculatum, Helleborus

Felicitations, mon-keigh commander. You find yourself in desperate straits. The world you have been sent to claim festers in open rebellion, mutants abound throughout its greatest city, and the Primordial Annihilator has come to gnaw at your doorstep alongside your foes. Perhaps you count my kind among those enemies - but we Drukhari have fought against She-Who-Thirsts for as long as yours have had an empire. In that, at least, we have a common enemy. Should you take the fight to them, as well you should, it would not be the first time a shared hatred had made for strange allies-

Reason for deletion: Need to find out the name and rank of whatever mon-keigh is in charge of that fleet. Also, need to get better technoviral sabotage packages; their machine cult may be ridiculous but they make up for the primitive level of their technology with an overabundance of effort and fervour. I'll need to find something subtle enough to slip past their defences.

---

Article:

Addressed to: Whichever One Of The Rebel Leaders Is In Charge And/Or The One My Kabalites Were Fighting Alongside In The Hive City, The Hive City, Hexos VII @Wade Garrett, @bookwyrm, @Gladsome, @EarthScorpion, @Academia Nut, @dash931, @Graf Tzarogy
Encryption level: Venenum

Brave rebels against the oppressive Imperium, you are welcome for the aid my kabal has already given you in fighting back against your unkindly former masters, and comrades in arms are not the end of my generosity. Your cause is just and the House of Juud is with you in your struggle: I am willing to supply you with weaponry that will give you the edge against the imperial forces that have come to ravage your world, and train your soldiers in their use. Send me your volunteers, and within a few short cycles I will have turned them into a fighting force that will break the Imperium's hold on your system and pave the way for a better future. For those of you currently under threat from the Primordial Annihilator, I can provide escape routes into the asteroid belt and safe harbour in our strongholds until the danger is passed-

Reason for deletion: : Need to find out the name and rank of whatever mon-keigh is in charge of the rebels. Also need some time to put proper kill-switches and technoviral payloads in whatever weapons I supply them with; something potent enough to jump from the guns to their primitive systems but subtle enough to go unnoticed until the opportune moment. Also, if I start promising to train their soldiers for them and accept their refugees, I'll eventually need some justification or excuse for why none of them are coming back.

---

Article:

Addressed to: Those Mutant Things My Kabalites Saw Evacuating Mon-Keigh To Bunkers In The Upper Spire, Probably Still Somewhere Around There(?) @mothematics, @Sirrocco
Encryption level: Telum

Denizens of the Hive City, my congratulations on your successes during the recent violence. You must know that, having revealed yourselves, the Imperium will not look kindly on your existence. Though your actions may have won you brief support from the populace, goodwill is fleeting and the legions above your head will wish you purged as mutants and monsters. My forces can offer you safe passage offworld to a stronghold they cannot breach, where you will be beyond the reach of their flamers and boltguns-

Reason for deletion: I don't even know what the fuck these things are, let alone how to get a message to whoever or whatever is in charge. What am I supposed to do, broadcast it to the entire Hive? Send in a kabalite to hand it to the first multi-armed mutant they see? Fuck it, maybe I will! Whichever idiot subordinate next annoys me gets the job. Ugh.

---

Article:

Addressed to: Princess Jea'ni, Mythwright Fleet, Hexos System @Gargulec
Encryption level: Daemonium

WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?

Reason for deletion: I hate this woman.

 

[Guderian2nd]

View: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1OpsQVLlYrEEcea_2y8ajFZ1QuvJmtLto/view?usp=drive_link

Spoiler: Imgur Album

View: https://imgur.com/a/xP1jM6F

---

(OOC: Yes I know that in NATO military symbology, the higher formation goes in the lower-right, rather than to the center-right. I couldn't find where to put stuff into the lower right corner in the symbol generator I was originally using and when I found a better one I'd already drawn half the maps and couldn't be arsed to do them again, please understand. )

 

[Cornuthaum]

SOMEWHERE IN SPACE
THREE DAYS AFTER THE EVACUATION

"I didn't think any mortal soul could be this weary." It is the common refrain amongst the deacons of Hexos VII, whose combined numbers have made even the stately auditorium seem small and cramped.

There is a constant sussurrus of voices as they confirm that yet another of their peers has survived the horrific tide of Unbelief and Xenoheresy pouring into the upper hive. Tears are shed as past rivalries are forgiven under the Emperor's grace of survival. A flock of cherubim carries one of the macro-censers rescued from the Cathedral of the God-Emperor Victorious into one of the pre-readied reliquaries, leading to a wave of heartfelt hosannas.

One of the deacons - one of those who had been pushed from the Shichi Metroplex all the way through the Hive into the upper spires and now into this place - manages to make a remark that has her fellows laughing with her, the strung-out and frayed laughter on despair's edge. "I feel like I'm about to drop dead."

A voice, hoarse still from shouting orders and encouragements and prayers for all of that wretched time, cuts through the room. "Ninety-three percent of the Widow's Guard did, Deacon Odia. Pray to the God-Emperor that He grants us all deaths as worthy as theirs." A gasp. Everyone knew the Widows had suffered terribly - but with ninety-three percent dead, that meant they were lost to the Ecclesiarchy, for the other seven percent must surely be wounded near unto death.

There stands Pius, the Fourth cardinal of Hexos after the Great Rift, with his armoured battle-mitre still atop his head. "I will hear no more malingering from any of you," he continues, "not after those sworn to be our guards have laid down their lives to keep the great work of Faith alive."

The cherubim descend as the Cardinal walks, haloing him in biocybernetic purity. "Do not mistake the despair you feel at how this tide of unbelief, treason and heresy has pushed us from our home as weariness. Do not let gentle tiredness close your eyes to the magnitude of the work ahead of us still."

At last he reaches the pulpit in the centre of the auditorium, and well above him the cherubim ignite the macro-censer, casting the room in warm fire-light. "I say this to you: Dolan Chirosius was martyred that the tide of unbelief could be washed away when the Faithful mustered, and so too must we accept the martyrium of our guardians and companions in the Widow's Guard. Those of you who feel despair's sting most keenly, in the name of our Undying Lord, I forgive you. You shall be assigned to interface with the Commanderies of the Sacred Rose, that their unyielding faith and spirit may rekindle yours. Those of you who feel hatred's sting most keenly, I command you to temper your soul through itinerant service. For so long as the Ecclesiarchy stands together, stands united, the light of Faith in Hexos shall never be extinguished, and there are billions still that need to hear our words."

Most of those present nod. It is what they expected.

"Tell them this. The God-Emperor has a plan for this system, and if you cannot see what it is, do not despair of it. You are not the Master of Mankind, you are not the Elect speakers of His will. Faith alone suffices. Faith in Him, faith in His Imperium. Remind the people of our cardinal virtues - hatred of the xeno, endurance in the face of tribulation, intolerance of the deviant and love for the God-Emperor, and in so doing remind yourself of these things."

 

[Skippy]

Lord-Marshal Isabelle and The Rigours of Command, Part One

The Inner-Outer System Boundary
About five months before present

HIMS Indefatigable
The Forenoon Watch
11.02 (Shipboard Time)


"This will be the last time I am able to speak to you as a group. Soon, we will be coming to grips with the enemy. For some of you, I know this will be your first taste of real war. So it is more vital than ever that we have the chance to complete this vital course of training."

Rows of midshipmen from across the fleet sat and looked down in sombre silence. The large hall had in its long history hosted both an auxiliary navigational orrery and a ball-room. Isabella was a firm believer in education and had transformed it into a lecture-hall when she took over the Indefatigable.

She activated her las-pointer and turned to the massive holographic data-slate behind her.

"Last week, we covered prize money, the calculation of shares based on rank, and the difference between hulk-value and scrap-value." Isabella said as she pointed to glowing headings and figures.

Isabella turned and nodded to Midshipman Truebridge, who with some trepidation made the sign of the cog and depressed the rune which told the machine-spirit to display the next in the set of data-slides. The machine spirit for the projector could be somewhat tetchy at times, and liked to be appeased with small offerings of liquor or lug-nuts. If displeased, it would occasionally change the language of the slides into a mysterious dead Terran dialect. Mister Truebridge had been up since the start of the Morning Watch doing a dry run of the slides and placating the machine-spirit, and her small fingers were spattered with black votive oil and the distinctive red wax of the machine cult.

"Today, we will go over the basics of contract law, dealing with prize-agents, investment strategies, and the common kinds of charlatans, pilferers and villains who may attempt to prey upon junior officers like yourselves who have recently come into some hard-earned Prize-Money," Isabella said, scowling at old memories. "You must learn to recognise the Cadian Princess Scam, Multi-Liturgical Marketing schemes, and the various Inquisitorially-proscribed Cryptic Coins."

Isabella stopped and regarded her audience. The midshipmen seemed younger every year; and noticed a few civvies in their ranks too, mostly the children of ship-married officers. Good for them to get a grasp of the essentials too. Many of the children of "passengers" as they were politely called in the Service ended up eventually marrying officers too.

"What do we do when a gentleman offers a fantastic opportunity to invest on the ground floor of a newly established mining firm based on recently recovered STC, Commander Jarvis?" Isabella asked as she theatrically turned to her left.

"KEEL-HAUL THE BLIGHTER AND FEED HIM TO THE HULL-GHASTS." Came the stentorian crackle of her first officer to some polite laughter.

"What do we do legally, Commander Jarvis?" Isabella replied.

"POLITELY REFUSE AND DIRECT HIM TO YOUR BONDED PRIZE-AGENT OR JURIST. THEN KEEL-HAUL HIM." Old Iron Jaw replied without skipping a beat.

Isabella smiled and turned back to the audience, and nodded to Truebridge for the next slide.

"Very good. Now, let us look to the Departmento Munitorum statutes on prize-law-"

---

HIMS Defender of Zeal
The First Dog Watch
16.13 (Shipboard Time)


"Now if we look at sub-figure Theta, we can see projections for likely search and targeting auspex bands along the perimeter-" the Departmento Munitorum staff officer, Isabella thought his name was Calibre or something, droned on in a servitor-like monotone.

Whilst the Departmento Munitorum begrudgingly accepted that the vagaries of the Warp made it impracticable to micromanage every campaign out of a filing-casket back at the Sector capital via astropathic faxes, they were still very eager to provide suggestions. At great and alarming length. Somehow General Lumiere had gotten out of it, citing an important auto-seance with staff and logistics officers back in Septimus, and Isabella envied him.

The briefing has been droning on for two hours now, and Isabella's leg was itching something fierce. What was worse, it was her fully augmetic leg and the itch was in the ball joint of the knee, and she couldn't detach the damned thing here. Why couldn't they have had this briefing on the Indefatigable? If she was the Emperor-damned Lord High-Marshal, couldn't she have her own bloody briefing on her own Emperor-damned ship?

Instead she had to sit on a cutter for half an hour conned by one of the most lubberly crews she had ever had the misfortune of seeing, biting her tongue as it would be terribly rude to upbraid voidsmen from another command. All so that they could come here and sit through another damned Departmento Munitorum briefing, because the Defender of Zeal for some reason had the fanciest holo-projector in the fleet, with fancy little linked data-slates for every member of the audience.

What made things even more galling was that either Lumiere or someone on the Departmento Munitorum staff was some kind of teetotaller. Isabelle looked mournfully at the table of refreshments; at the hot samovar of tea, the recaf pot, and the pitchers filled with nothing but clear refreshing water. You could drop a goldperch in one of them and it wouldn't even die. Absolutely disgusting to see on one of the Emperor's ships. There wasn't even any grog.

"Thank you Adjunct-Lieutenant Caliveri. Now let us turn to the issue of Hexos VII itself, and our grand strategy," came the voice of Provost-Commissar Bland, another Deparmento Munitorum scrub, who managed to combine the roles of bureaucrat, busybody, and commissar all into one. The Provost-Commissar was a pale woman of middling years and a soldier's trim build, almost Valhallan in complexion, with platinum hair and pale watery blue eyes, but somehow the sum was less than its parts, and she looked more cold and washed-out than striking or soldierly.

"Simply put, the strategic dilemma we face on Hexos is that we do not have enough soldiers."

That rather woke the room up, and caused Isabella to sit up straight in her chair. When Adminsitratum busybodies started speaking in clear sentences, it was always a worrying sign in her view. Doubly so when those busybodies carried bolt-pistols.

"Whilst we enjoy an enviable advantage in naval power and are lucky enough to have a famous commander," Bland continued, with a head nod that Isabella could not tell was sarcastic or not "-we simply do not have the Guard or Loyalist ground forces to safely invest the Hive and hold down the periphery at the same time. This is before any other complicating factors like a possible Tau intervention are considered."

Bland depressed a rune and the holo-display moved onto the next graphic, showing a cutaway diagram of Hive Heptos. It looked almost like some massive conifer which had been overtaken by some red weed or fungus, with only the thin upper branches still highlighted a bright Loyallist green.

"However, we cannot simply leave the Hive to fester. For one thing, there are the defenders still holding out in the upper levels. To simply allow them to fall would make us appear weak and the rebellion in control of the pace of events."

This was demonstrating a level of attunement to basic strategic constraints that, coming from the Departmento Munitorum and the illustrious offices of the Commissariat, was mildly concerning. Isabella liked her paper-pushers and political officers kept like neurally-calmed grox, blissfully unaware in the feedlot. A few bromides at monthly Church services about faith, duty and not breaking the Emperor's ships, then shuffling off somewhere for a cup of milky tea while the real officers did the fighting. That was the thing.

"With these challenges in mind, the Septimus Sectoral General Staff Adjunct Planning Group has prepared an operational plan and grand strategic plans for the consideration of the Reclamation Group Joint Command. Operation Pyre will be introduced by Provost-Comissar Giametti-" Bland gestured to a young man to her left, who somehow managed to look even more severe and exsanguinated than his superior, "-whilst I will introduce War Plan THIRD CAVALIER."

Provost-Comissar Bland extended her telescopic pointer with a swish and flick more appropriate for a las-foil on the duelling ground. The sharp crack that made some of the more restive officers present start in their chairs.

"The essence of War Plan THIRD CAVALIER is that rather than attempting to hold everything at once, we should first seize the periphery and thus control the centre. Hive Heptos has many advantages to the defender, but one major strategic weakness common to many hive-cities; it is entirely reliant on outside food. The key to Heptos lies in the fields of the Asa Valley and the fishing fleets of the Siete Coast." Bland pointed to each figure as she moved through her slides.

"By seizing or razing these regions, we can induce a famine in the Lower Hive that will cause the menials to rise against their insurrectionist pretender-government as swiftly as they did against legitimate government. Then by controlling the food, we can compel each rebellious province, and eventually the Hive itself, to crawl back to proper authority on their knees, with the promise of relief."

Isabella only half listened to the words as she sat mesmerised over the next hour and a half, as Provost-Commissar Bland made her presentation, and then her subordinate outlined the Adjunct Planning Group's plan (in effect, Sector Command's plan, Isabella realised) for the Upper Hive, which was essentially to burn it with everyone still inside whilst posthumously celebrating the loyalists as martyrs, and making a few token evacuations for propaganda purposes. Occasionally figures or phrases popped out at her, like the projected casualty figures for the Upper Hive (twenty to fifty million, up into the hundreds if the radioactive plume got into the main respiration-ducts of the Middle Hive), or the deaths expected from famine ("only" two to three billion, if strict rationing were implemented and agricultural infrastructure in conquered regions could be restored within a year). Outwardly she made sure to look attentive and stoic, the model of a Lord-Marshal.

Inwardly, Isabella felt as if she were plummeting down a deep, dark elevator shaft.

 

[Sirrocco]

The hivemind had been buzzing lately.

First, of course, were the attacks - the terror, the desperate flight to ground, the occasional bursts of rage. Even then there were oddities. Lady Dulcinea had employed her servitors in protecting many of the people of the Upper City from becoming collateral damage, and the people had thanked them. Father Xavier hadn't ever heard of a human not of the cult thanking a servitor of second stage or higher before... or even responding with anything other than hatred or terror. As the word percolated out among the rest of the Church, they seemed to agree. This was odd. More strange benefits from the Lady Dulcinea? Eh? It was probably nothing.

Then there was the rebel victory itself. The last of the loyalist imperials had been driven from the Upper Hive. The rebellion had... well, it hadn't quite won yet - not with the sky full of the imperial navy - but with the last remnants of imperial power on the planet under siege at the guns, there wasn't anyone to stop the rebels from promulgating... whatever strange ideas they had. Some of them were very strange. Some of them were mindblowing.

Levellism was in some ways a simple idea. Hierarchy is bad. It swept through the Church of the New Flesh like lightning. They knew the overseer's whip. They knew the oppressions of the now-departed arbites. They knew the intimidation and coercion of the space pirates that would prey upon the asteroid miners, with no intervention from the arbites at all. They knew Hierarchy in many forms, and all of those forms had been horrible, and now they had been given a reason why. Better still, that reason wasn't some furtive thing that could only be shared in the safety and fellowship of the hivemind. It was being shouted in the streets! It was being broadcast across the planet! It was revolutionary!

It was... not quite correct. There was so much truth there, so much obvious truth, but there were also bits that were clearly wrong. It wasn't the fault of the Shichi. They just didn't have the warmth and love of the hivemind to show them the way. There was an evil there, made of hatred and fear and pain and punishment and "Hierarchy" was a good name for it, but there was also Leadership, which was an entirely different thing that was build on respect for greater wisdom, and personal loyalty, and gratitude for the benefits that your leader had brought. The thing about the tall buildings went both ways. Tall buildings were obviously normal and natural and the way of the world, but it was true that those corrupted by Hierarchy seemed to like to exploit them....

There were a great many theological discussions, shared with love and understanding and a desire for mutual enlightenment and growth. There were more than a few highly entertaining theological debates, with everyone cheering on particularly good points. Clearly the Hivemind that they had was a superior way for people to organize and support one another, but... well, they had the stories of the Starminds as well, that would come in the great Hive Ships one day. They knew... they knew that their hivemind was not like that of most of the worlds that were blessed with a Patriarch. Was the Greater Hivemind corrupted by Hierarchy too? If Hierarchy was the root of all evil (and it surely did seem to be) then that would mean....

But even that was not the most transformative idea that hit the church. The most transformative idea was... acceptance. Unlike the Imperium that spawned them, the rebels seemed to accept the xeno. They were at least willing to consider the idea. Xenos of all kinds had come out of nowhere to help the rebellion in its birthing pains and drive back the menace of Hierarchy, both the Imperial and the Corrupt, and the rebels responded. They weren't fully welcome yet, but welcome was possible. The Mind of the Church sang with the possibility. They knew the wonderful love and fellowship of the hivemind. They were warmed and supported by it every day. They knew the blessings of the gene-grafts, that made life so much easier. With acceptance - true acceptance, they could share those blessings with so many more people.

It's just... theology. There was a problem. There was a very specific problem, with a very specific part of the theology. The root of all evil was Hierarchy. The world of Hexos had gloriously thrown off its shackles! It was free! The Hive Fleets that had given birth to the Church and that would surely come again had... maybe not. This was....

So they sent a delegation. Father Xavier could feel the concern in their hearts, but this was a big deal. It was a major precept of the faith that was being questioned, and not one that had ever been questioned before. They didn't know what he would say. Still... they had to ask.

"Father Xavier? Light of wisdom that guides us in the dark? We have a...." "Well...." "Could we...?"

"Be at peace, my children. Share your concerns."

"How... important is the Doctrine of the Triumphant Swarm? Is there any way that we could... adjust it a little, maybe?"

/****************/

THE GLORIOUS TRUTH OF THE CHURCH OF THE NEW FLESH, EIGHTH MAJOR REVELATION (provisional)

Hierarchy is the root of all evil in this world - the corruption of all that is good and true. All the ills of the world either descend from Hierarchy itself, or grow from the want and privation that Hierarchy creates.

Hierarchy is, fundamentally, the coercion of one person by another, through force, threat, manipulation, or claims of status. It is the whip of the overseer, who grows fat off the labor of his workers. It is the rifle of the Arbites, who suppress the sharing of grievances. It is a Wrong Thing.

Hierarchy is a creeping corruption. Where there are people, they will organize. Where they organize, some will begin to make the decisions for others. Where there are those making decisions, they will be tempted by Hierarchy. It is often a gradual process - if not guarded against, the foulness accumulates.

Leadership is not Hierarchy, but its antithesis. When one person chooses to follow the will of another for reasons of personal loyalty, gratitude, or respect for greater wisdom? There is no evil there. When two or more work together for common cause, there is no evil there. All must eat, and to eat one must work and this is the way of the world. It is only when the employer begins to think themselves the master that it becomes foul Hierarchy.

The Hivemind, as well, is a natural defense against Hierarchy, bringing the people closer together and denying that separation that Hierarchy thrives on. The shared love and affection of spiritual communion help to insulate against the twisting temptations in the heart, and the community of mind makes it easier to perceive the early onset of the rot, that our leaders might be guided back to the True Path.

Even with such defenses as these, though, it is not safe. We know from the corruption that has set in to the Greater Swarm that even the hivemind can fall to Hierarchy. At the same time, we know from the Glorious Revolution that hierarchy can be purged. It can be beaten back. It can be cleansed. In the neverending war against Hierarchy, no loss need ever be eternal.

Love and Acceptance are cardinal goods, and Hierarchy hates them. Hierarchy seeks to divide us - to create that separation in which it thrives. Hierarchy seeks to silence us, so that we cannot catch our Leadership before they fall. Hierarchy is a thing of silence and lies, and Leadership is a thing of openness and listening. If you bring a problem before your leader, and they will not hear your words, then they are already falling, if not fallen.

Acceptance of the Other is a cardinal good, and Hierarchy hates that as well. If your neighbor hates you for what you are rather than for what you have done, then that is the taint of Hierarchy in their soul... but where Hierarchy's hold has been loosened, it can be loosened further. By sharing the love that we have found in the hivemind with those who still bear the cold loneliness of singularity, we can loosen the grasp of hatred on their hearts. Duke Despyre (speak we in humble gratitude for his enlightened leadership) has opened the door. The Necron and the Tau and Lady Dulcinea (blessed be her name) have shown us the way. We merely need to walk through.

Hierarchy is unnatural. The Great Father Xavier was born into Hierarchy, but had it torn away by chance. In that blessed state of reborn innocence - freed from hierarchy, but still possessing the geneseed - he was able to form the Church, as a hivemind free of Hierarchy's taint. In that beautiful fusion of human thought and tyranid gene-grafting, we were able to create and preserve a place of love and support where hierarchy did not thrive, hidden within the greater tyranny of the Imperium. The heart cries out to be freed from the oppression of Hierarchy. It is an imposed thing.

Never forget that we are both fortunate and blessed. it is by chance alone that the blessing of an untainted hivemind was made available to us. It is by chance alone that we were here to witness the Glorious Revolution, to offer us a chance at a better way to live and a clearer understanding of the true foe. We are blessed, but that blessing is not free. It comes with an obligation to continue to fight the creeping taint of Hierarchy in any way we can, and, as much as we can, to share our blessings with those who would would wish them.

The Swarm is surely coming. What was once meant to be a cleansing industrial accident to wipe away the entrenched rot of Hierarchy has been twisted into a tribulation against the New Awakening. We must be ready. We will be ready. When the Swarm does come, in a day or a thousand years, it will be our burden and our honor to push through the hatred and Hierarchy that has infested their Mind, and show them the New Way. We can be better, and we can make them better, and we must, so we will.

 

[Havocfett]

In the Shipyards, harried, overworked repair labor shifts scrambled to restart production. Their overseers were keen to meet the new quotas, but swiftly found themselves with a new anxiety.

Sensor ghosts played across their radars. Workers complained of things watching them in the dark. Shipments arrived late, speaking of ships stalking them in the dark, and the captains of damaged warships spoke of nightmares and screaming suns.

But nothing, truly, had happened. Yet.

Spoiler: Drukhari Shipyard Raid

Shipyards: Drukhari Raid from ???? - Possible Players: Aleph

Assets Declared
None

Declared Effort
Aleph - 2 Effort

Spoiler: Covert Actions

Covert actions at Shipyard declared.

The Faceless had dug into the countryside around the lower hive in the first months of the year, digging vast trench networks and possessing every civilian they could get their hands on. While their advance into the hive proper had been thwarted, that was not good enough for the Hive's defenders. To remove the chaos army from their facility, the 1st Surface Fleet Group sallied forth, beginning a preparatory bombardment as the Hive's myriad militias chose their targets.

As the fighting continued, developments in the Hive continued at a rapid pace. Tau trainers continued to drill the Hive's myriad militias, providing disciplined cores that would hold when the fighting went sour. Strange worker cadres began to appear in the lower hive, communal mutant work-gangs volunteering to repair damaged infrastructure at the behest of the Lady Dulcinea. Impoverished workers leaving the hive, given the means to homestead the surrounding area, to channel radiation into fertile gardens and purify toxic runoff into drinkable water by Gullian's many subordinates.

Stranger, though, were the religious developments. Pilgrims, impoverished strivers, and the truly devout alike had begun a search for hidden truths in the lower hive. Rumors abounded of a Great Church in its depths, one that would replace the grand cathedral in the upper hive. Remaining priests damned the movement as heretical, but it had begun to grow at a fever pitch.

Spoiler: Rebel Lower Hive Raid

Lower Hive: Rebel raids against Chaos from Lower Hive. Potential Players: Wade, Graf, Dash, Tenfold, Deku, Aodyssey, Joergen

Assets Declared
Wade - Militia - Civic Guards Alicia Brigade
Dash - Military - 1st Surface Fleet Group
Declared Effort
Conil: 3 Effort
Wade: 3 Effort

Spoiler: Hive Infrastructure Week

Faction mechanic repairs the 4th Atmobile Corps during the Declaration Phase.
Lower Hive Activated! Lower Hive and 712th Auxiliaries Brigade will be repaired.
Genestealer Cults (Sirrocco) are repairing the Upper Hive
Infrastructure Improvement in the lower hive! - 3 Effort, 1 Asset from Graf Tzarogy.
Infrastructure/Political Improvement in the lower hive! - 3 Effort, 1 Asset from Graf Tzarogy
Tau training cadres instil Discipline in Civics Guards Alicia - Tenfold Shields
Tau training cadres instil Discipline in the Starchildren Militia - Dekutulla

In the shadows, things at the hive were…perhaps not worse, but certainly different. Shadows flitted across the battle-scarred grand cathedral in the upper hive. Repair crews screamed of things in the dark, and patrols in the dead zone between faceless and hive reported eyes, endless eyes, watching them from the shadows.

Spoiler: Covert Actions

Covert actions at Lower Hive declared.
Covert Actions at Upper Hive declared.

As the months ticked on, time accomplished what the Imperial strike could not. The rebel blockade, damaged and brutalized, broke positions and retreated, leaving decoys, wounded pickets, and landmines behind. It would take days for the Imperials to realize what had happened, as the first scouts for the next offensive found themselves not marking defensive lines, but punching through suicidally determined pickets.

Instead, as the Imperial invasion force mustered every asset at its disposal, they found themselves with a clear, thousand mile march to their next target. Finally, after months on planet, the Imperial Army would march upon the Sab'a Mines.

Spoiler: Imperial Mines Invasion

Sab'a Mines: Imperial Invasion from the Guns! Potential Combatants: All Imperial

Declared Assets
7 Assets Total
1 Military (Guderian)
1 Military (Crusade Fleet)
1 Military (Carol)
1 Military (Mina)
1 Military (Zorakov)
1 Navy (Guderian)
1 Navy (Crilltic)

Declared Effort
20 Effort Total
5 Effort from Guderian
5 Effort from Carol
5 Effort from Mina
5 Effort from Zorakov

The ever-riotous asteroid Mines had not calmed down over the first months of the war. Pirate attacks on shipping had increased, brawls in bars and speakeasies had become a daily occurrence as treasure hunters flooded the belt, and there were rumors of darker things yet stalking the asteroids.

It was therefore a matter of considerable comfort that the Imperial Navy had arrived. The 10th Escort Squadron had arrived to back Brunern Security in a hunt for chaos-aligned pirates in the belt. Their aeldari allies were…rather more controversial, promoting some hushed discussions between Brunern Security and Marshall Isabella, as well as rumors that the Belt had sold out to pirates.

But, ultimately, rumors of chaos won out and the assembled flotilla began its hunt within the narrow confines of the asteroid belt.

Spoiler: Imperial-Aeldari Asteroid Mines Hunt

Asteroid Mines: Imperial-Aeldari Attack on the Asteroid Mines. Potential Players: Garg, Skippy, Who, Crusade Fleet

Assets Declared
Garg - Navy - Mythwright and escorts
Garg - Navy - Destroyer squadron
Who? - Navy - Brunern Security
Skippy - Navy - 10th Escort Squadron
Declared Effort:
11 Effort Total
4 Effort from Garg
5 Effort from Who?
2 Effort from Skippy

Spoiler: Covert Actions

Multiple covert actions in the Asteroid Mines

As chaos forces retreated from the Asaa Valley to parts unknown, locals found themselves mired in rebuilding. Entire orchards and vast pastureland had been nuked to glass or tainted by chaos in the fighting, necessitating vast rebuilding efforts.

Fortunately, the rebel government was more than willing to assist. Volunteers from various labor unions and governmental assessors arrived with building materials, fertilizers, and strange geneaugmented crops that could survive the blasted lands.

Many of the laborers were obvious mutants, oft with four arms or strange ridges, but in light of combat against the foul forces of chaos, and a general agreement that they were simply blessed by the Green Angel, Vulcan, the horrendous violence that would not ally often greet such mutants was put off for another day.

There were, after all, more deserving targets for such violence. Levelist commissars spent day after day dragging suspected cultists, hierarchists, and collaborators from the darkness. Attempts to corrupt the sacred rituals of the Stormwind host, or to spread Chaotic tendencies among the ranks of Shichi Soldiers were rooted out day by day, while the Metroplex's zealots insisted to every shaman that would listen that a greater threat yet remained in the region.

Spoiler: Asaa Spire Technothriller Day

Political Purge by Earthscorpion in the Asaa Valley: 1 Asset and 2 Effort declared.
Covert Action Asaa Valley
Genestealer Cults (Sirrocco) are repairing the Asaa Valley?

Even as the purges kicked off, celebrations ripped through the Asaa Valley and Yedi Wastes. The Grand Revolutionary Council had made it's first pronouncement.

The Asaa Valley tribes folk had long had their religious and cultural practices brutally repressed, tolerated only to the minimum necessary to meet the tithes and supply the Hive with cheap labor. They had never reaped the benefits of citizenship, merely born it's costs.

The Yedi Wastes had it worse. Damned for some rebellion forgotten even by record, they had been deemed living target practice. To suppress them, to hunt them, impress them as cheap labor, and rob their settlements, was considered good practice for the PDF. More than two billion people, reduced to target practice, slave labor, and periodic research papers on their inexplicable ability to acquire weapons while under interdiction.

No longer. With a stroke of a pen (and millions of man hours in enforcement and bureaucracy), the grand revolutionary council of Hexos VII signed it's first United revolutionary pronouncement. The people of the Yedi Wastes and Asaa Valley were now full and equal citizens.

The celebrations could be seen from orbit, wastelanders emerging from their hidden creches in the millions to belt praises to the emperor. The Asaa Valley underwent weeks of successive feasting.

And as news left Hexos and reached Sector Command, Lord High Marshall Isabella was told in no uncertain terms that the previous status quo must be restored for the good of the imperium.

Spoiler: rebel politics

Asaa Valley and Yedi Wastes tribespeople unanimously declared free and equal citizens of Hexos VII.


All rebel players lose one effort this turn (and so have 9 to spend).

Effects unknown. Sector command scandalized.

 

[dash931]

Upon A Brick Wall In Siete

The artwork on the upper half of the propaganda poster has a stylized aesthetic with expressively flowing linework and vivid colors, mostly cold hues. A line of figures on the far left, with representatives of the Yedi and Asaa ethnicities prominently included, each stand facing the viewer with their right hand to their chest, their left arms expansively extended out toward the right, and looking rightward with a serene smile. The frontmost figure in the line wears a teal-turquoise uniform and holds a peaked cap to their chest, the brim serrated in emulation of a leaf. The center and right of the picture portray an exaggeratedly verdant landscape of rivers winding through forests, snowy mountains without sign of strip-mining along the horizon, white clouds on blue sky, and an oceanic coastline.

BLUE WATER
GREEN LAND
CLEAN AIR
OUR FUTURE
ENLIST IN THE
SERVICE CORPS
TODAY​

- An early example of Hexos Revolutionary Bluegreen movement propaganda.

 

[Wade Garrett]

The Parable of the Man Portent

In Hive Hexos there dwelt a certain man whose name was Portent. And he did live humbly and earned his bread by toil within a hab foundry, and in times of joy and times of sorrow did Portent bow his head and say "Blessed is the will of the God Emperor."

And it came to pass that while he slumbered he was given a vision, and a voice spake unto him "Upon the morrow you shall go to the Thoroughfare Primus of the Hive, and there it shall be granted to you to see the Emperor." And he saw that it was a true vision, and it was the Emperor's Will, and he awoke.

And Portent journeyed upwards, and his family and friends walked with him, and they took their place beside the Great Thoroughfare and waited.

And there passed by them a great noble of comely form and features, clad in raiments of lavender and gold, ringed about guards whose stature was like Angels of Death, and they wore was silver and red, and they bore halberds of great size, the light shone from the rainment and the armor and the fell blades like the rising sun and all cried out "Surely this is the Emperor!" But Portent shook his head, for the great noble was not the Emperor.

And there passed afterward a holy cleric, and his robes were as pure and white as the moons themselves, and they billowed and spread fom him like the foaming sea. And before him marched servitors wrought with surpassing cunning, who with every step blasted upon great trumps, and before them walked male and female servants singing hymns of glory and praise, and the sound of the hymns and the trumps was as the coming of a great storm. And in the hymns and worship Portent's friends and family drew themselves and made signs one to another, to convey that this, this indeed must be the Emperor! But again, Portent shook his head, for the holy cleric was not the Emperor.

And those who had come with Portent were troubled, and they murmured and muttered amongst themselves. But then a great shadow fell over them, and there walked upon the Thoroughfare a great war engine of Mars, and and the iron shod hooves of its dozen legs cracked the paving stones of the Middle Hive while the iron fanged maws of its scores of heads rose above the spires of the Upper Hive, and in its hundreds of arms it held every kind of weapon and armament that might slay and wreak ruin, and all who had come fell upon their faces and cried out "It is, it must be the Emperor!"

All save Portent, who stood in the great shadow and once again shook his head. For even the great war engine was not the Emperor.

And then the others who had come rose and ventured forth, one to her wife and child, one to his place of work, one to their friends to make merry, and Portent alone remained, and his heart was troubled, for he held faith in the vision that had been vouchsafed to him. And then a small still voice spoke unto him, and sayeth "Portent, My Servant."

And he beheld a simple traveler, draped in a hooded cloak, and leaning upon a staff. And he saw that this Man was not like other men, for the mark of the grave and the worm was upon his eyes and cheeks, and the cloak that wrapped about him was indeed a shroud.

And Portent knelt, for he knew that this was the Emperor In Truth.

And he spake "O Emperor of Mankind, who am I, that you should draw near to me? A breath of air, a stirring of dust, a shadow that flickers and is gone, a coveter, a liar, vain, a seeker of the pleasures of the flesh, a sinner among sinners, damnation and the torment eternal are all that is bequeathed to one such as me." And he took up the hem of His shroud, and he wept.

And the Emperor said, "Rise, child! Think you there is one righteous, yea, even one? For I tell you the truth, all that men call righteous and holy is as filthy rags to Me. It is not by deeds that any may be spared, but by the Mercy and Grace that surpasses all understanding. Lean upon My staff, for on this day, you shall surely journey with Me."

And on the morrow Portent's family and friends laid his bones in the Rubbish Incinerator Medius to be consumed.

I trust that the meaning of this tale will be apparent to all my readers, and that they will hearken to it, that one day THEY TOO may be told, "Rise, child, for on this day you shall surely journey with me."

Pamphlet printed by the Commitee For the Proper Observation of Sanguinalia and distributed by the Puritan Sect, declared Heresy Second Class, Punishable By Painful Execution by the Ecclesiarchal Diocese of Hexos following the fall of Hive Hexos to the Revolutionary Government

 

[Havocfett]

0501.137 M42

For months, the armies of chaos had besieged the hive. Children woke screaming, the sound of artillery in their ears. Villages were torn apart, all too slow to flee fitted with the horrendous gas masks of the invading army. They had been stopped from entering the hive, at ruinous cost, but every day that passed was another day for them to dig in. To threaten the hive.

This was unacceptable. Once lines had stabilized, the Siete Coast navy began a comprehensive bombing campaign aimed at breaking the spine of the damaged attackers. Chanted prayers echoed from the lower hive's grand loudspeakers, heralding dawn raids from the Civic Guards, and borrowed markerlights called in strike from the Tau Navy above.

The Faceless attempted an organized retreat. Layered fallback positions, daemonic minefields, and hosts of swiftly summoned plaguebearers were thrown against the rebel positions, buying precious days. Their local allies revealed themselves as cultists, enacting grand rituals to spread cursed plagues among the attackers and opening portals to some hidden redoubt in an attempted retreat.

But even here, they were frustrated. Shadows in the dark assassinated cultists and defensive commanders. Rituals fell apart in brutal displays of sorcerous backlash as head cultists disappeared in flashes of green light. Combat exorcisms ripped gasmasks from tortured heads and cured magical plagues. Shadowy visages of hooded angels, never confirmed, stalked most covered battlefields.

The Faceless defense was determined, dogged, and then for the second time in a year the Necron host arrived.

As the Civic Guard began another push, an obelisk of black metal appeared in the southeastern front. Particle whips lashed out in every direction as rank after rank of immortals stepped into the fray. Daemon engines were ripped to pieces by airstrike, naval bombardment, gauss cannons, and waves of armed militia.

And, as the ritual that would allow the chaos army to flee was in its last steps, the ranks broke. Daemon engines vanished into the warp, soldiers were surrounded by the advancd, spells began to snap and shatter across the front line.

And from ten thousand lips, dying gasps exhorted prayers to Slaanesh.

Only the cult would escape, disappearing through portals even as the last of their defenders were ripped to pieces.

For the first time since the war started, Hive Heptos was safe.

Spoiler: Results

Rebels raid the Faceless host, which attempts to evacuate. -2 damage.

3 assets + 1 navy for rebels, 3 assets for Faceless. Both are 1 Mass down to 0 mass. -1 damage from success.

10 successes v 2 successes. 8 net successes. 5 damage Major Success, -1 from Evac. 4 damage major success. 2 successful raid-aligned sabotages, one rebel counterespionage, one Chaos sabotage. There are no further degrees of success to reach.

Damage allocation:
Chaos fortifications - Destroyed
Average - Mil - The Forgotten Ones - Destroyed

Average - Mil - The Betrayed - Destroyed

Average - Mil - The Abandoned - Destroyed

Average - Cult - The Straight Path - Extracts to Unknown.

Averagename has been destroyed as a fighting force. With their last breath, they commit themselves to the cause of chaos to aid their allies in their next fight.

Repair actions transfer to other allied units.

 

[Cornuthaum]

0501.137 M42

For months, the armies of chaos had besieged the hive. Children woke screaming, the sound of artillery in their ears. Villages were torn apart, all too slow to flee fitted with the horrendous gas masks of the invading army. They had been stopped from entering the hive, at ruinous cost, but every day that passed was another day for them to dig in. To threaten the hive.

This was unacceptable. Once lines had stabilized, the Siete Coast navy began a comprehensive bombing campaign aimed at breaking the spine of the damaged attackers. Chanted prayers echoed from the lower hive's grand loudspeakers, heralding dawn raids from the Civic Guards, and borrowed markerlights called in strike from the Tau Navy above.

The Faceless attempted an organized retreat. Layered fallback positions, daemonic minefields, and hosts of swiftly summoned plaguebearers were thrown against the rebel positions, buying precious days. Their local allies revealed themselves as cultists, enacting grand rituals to spread cursed plagues among the attackers and opening portals to some hidden redoubt in an attempted retreat.

But even here, they were frustrated. Shadows in the dark assassinated cultists and defensive commanders. Rituals fell apart in brutal displays of sorcerous backlash as head cultists disappeared in flashes of green light. Combat exorcisms ripped gasmasks from tortured heads and cured magical plagues. Shadowy visages of hooded angels, never confirmed, stalked most covered battlefields.

The Faceless defense was determined, dogged, and then for the second time in a year the Necron host arrived.

As the Civic Guard began another push, an obelisk of black metal appeared in the southeastern front. Particle whips lashed out in every direction as rank after rank of immortals stepped into the fray. Daemon engines were ripped to pieces by airstrike, naval bombardment, gauss cannons, and waves of armed militia.

And, as the ritual that would allow the chaos army to flee was in its last steps, the ranks broke. Daemon engines vanished into the warp, soldiers were surrounded by the advancd, spells began to snap and shatter across the front line.

And from ten thousand lips, dying gasps exhorted prayers to Slaanesh.

Only the cult would escape, disappearing through portals even as the last of their defenders were ripped to pieces.

For the first time since the war started, Hive Heptos was safe.

Spoiler: Results

Rebels raid the Faceless host, which attempts to evacuate. -2 damage.

3 assets + 1 navy for rebels, 3 assets for Faceless. Both are 1 Mass down to 0 mass. -1 damage from success.

10 successes v 2 successes. 8 net successes. 5 damage Major Success, -1 from Evac. 4 damage major success. 2 successful raid-aligned sabotages, one rebel counterespionage, one Chaos sabotage. There are no further degrees of success to reach.

Damage allocation:
Chaos fortifications - Destroyed
Average - Mil - The Forgotten Ones - Destroyed

Average - Mil - The Betrayed - Destroyed

Average - Mil - The Abandoned - Destroyed

Average - Cult - The Straight Path - Extracts to Unknown.

Averagename has been destroyed as a fighting force. With their last breath, they commit themselves to the cause of chaos to aid their allies in their next fight.

Repair actions transfer to other allied units.

Click to shrink...

TO Admiral Theah, Hexos Navy
FROM Cardinal Pius IV

Well done, Admiral. I shall petition the Lord-Marshal that you be granted mercy for meritorious service. And ere your Duke claims me a villain, not the mercy of redemptive service that he is destined for.

 

[Who?]

Shortly After The Crusade Fleet Arrived in System

"Just another year, Despyre. Just one more year." The Regicide piece carved in the now infamous visage said nothing, even as Ador Brunern rolled it between his fingers. He had repeated those words countless times across the last few months. He had not said the same to the piece's opposite number, carved in the image of the later, great, little lamented governor. It had been intended as a silent little coronation gift to the Duke, a joke that would be understood only by a handful of people on Hexos.

Now, it was something of a death sentence. Not that Ador was in the habit of inviting people to his living quarters aboard The Last Chance. No, it had always been a respite for him, a place moulded to his personal tastes and not to the expectations of those visiting a rich and prosperous merchant who had carved his way up to his position.

The chair he sat on was Administratum-standard, bare of ornamentation, safe for the pair of armrests he had bolted on when he was only 23 and scrimping and saving to purchase a merchant charter of his own. The table that lay before him was carved from stone, a commission on a whim from an Ecclesiarchical church in the Octave Sector ten years ago. He had no doubt the men tasked with carrying it through the ship had cursed him out under their breath for the purchase, but he liked it's solidity. It's reliability. He liked those traits even more now.

Ador checked his chronometer. Four hours before he had to return to the bridge. Enough time for an hours or two of sleep. Times like these, he needed to show the world his best face, even if that required far too much recaf for his stomach to settle comfortably. And the food! The damned- nutirient paste and asteroid lichen and the aerostats supplies and there was only so much could be done. On a voyage, he would be willing to suffer through it, but he was in Hexos. It was one of those countless little irritations that niggled and ate at him.

He settled Despyre's confident, imperious visage back on the board and leaned back with a groan. The Navy, the Militarum, the Sororitas and - he had been embarassed to be so excited when he heard - the Astartes. Powerful figures, powerful factions, men and women who could propel the Brunern Concern to even greater heights in the Imperium, and he just wanted to sleep for a full night, and eat and drink well.

Tomorrow, he would have to go down his lists. His patrons - or rather, the patrons that had become his partners - had been messaging him throughout the past few days, full of expectation that he would speak for them, and of them, to the Lord Marshal and the Canonness and the Lord General, speak of their loyalty and devotion; as if he had not had to browbeat them into understanding that to stand against the Imperium was a fool's errand. He had already discussed logistics and strategy with Crusade Fleet. Informed them of the situation on the ground, of everything he could. Now it would be politics, and gifts, and favour trading. He had already hunted down a few fine vintages of amasec for the Marshal and the General - one could never go wrong with such things. The Cannoness was harder to read. His support of Pius IV had likely won him some favours with her, he thought. Liked to think.

He rose to his feet and headed over to the star map engraved on his wall to pray before he rested. It was stylised, for little else could portray the Imperium. At the top, shining with gold, was Terra, the seat of the God-Emperor and the Astronomican which all merchants lived and died by.

Other stars and planets were illuminated throughout, connected by the gilt tracery that showed how the Emperor's Light protected, joined and linked all things. But Ador - Ador looked for Hexos, as he always did. He had felt embarsssed to carved the name into the wall himself, like he was defacing the artist's work with his clumsy hands, but it was the proper thing to do. You couldn't let another person write your home's name. It brought bad luck.

Yes. Ador went to his knees and prayed to the Emperor to ward against evil, to bring safe passage and prosperity to him and all his crew.

But he did not look away from Hexos. Not for a moment.

 

[EarthScorpion]

Article:

In the grim darkness of the far-flung stars,
Where tyrants rule and the galaxy scars,
We rise from the ashes, a new dawn calls,
For Hexos' sake slay Hierarchy's thralls.

(Chorus)
Levellism!
Levellism!
Levellism fights forever!

No magos-lords, no governors,
No more thrones and stolen awe,
The Imperium's chains, they've had their reign,
Now we stand together, breaking the chains.

(Chorus)

The damned Arbitrators, the nobles and more,
Will kneel to the truth that we have in store,
We'll put a bullet in each tyrant's head,
No more spires built upon the dead!

(Chorus)

Oh Levellism, we shall rise,
No more deceit under smoke-choked skies,
In unity, our banners fly,
In the Saint's eyes, we'll never die!

Source: A Canticle for Levellism, Revolutionary Song

 

[Havocfett]

0630.137 M42

The people of the Asaa Valley sprang back quickly from the chaos assault. Their mysterious helpers gone, their time was now spent rebuilding and managing the consequences of the attack.

And for weeks, those consequences had been LEVACOM. The Committee had sent its most fanatical to examine its own soldiers, pulling out entire clusters of support personnel for summary executions. Chaos paraphernalia, materials, and communications were discovered and after the recent attack even the most heterodox tribesman was unwilling to hear excuses.

The executions continued, eventually finding cultists seeded among those who fled the chaos attacks. The people of the valley were whipped into a frenzy, redoubling repair and fortification efforts and welcoming the strange Spire laborers with open arms.

Alas, they did not see the true threat until it was too late.

As the last of the local cults were hunted down, LEVACOM investigators began to connect the dots. Began to realize that the greatest of the human sacrifices they'd uncovered, the most brutal gunfights against hardline cultists they'd suffered, were not spaced randomly.

They were a sigil to Khorne, hundreds of kilometers wide.

They rushed to inform the others, to begin prayers and rites and reconsecrations that would stop the ritual.

Alas, they too were too late.

At midnight before the autumnal equinox, the sky above the Asaa valley turned bone-white, blood flowed through its rivers, and all hell broke loose.

Graveyards ripped asunder, trees were impaled on spires of bone, and the sky itself wept burning bronze. Portals tore themselves open across the region, a legion of bloodletters and violent dreams unleashing themselves upon the populace as chaos rifts burst into being. Tribes and cities were wiped out in hours, and one in two farms across the entire valley burned before its defenders could mount a coherent response. Had the initial battle for the valley been less devastating, perhaps it would have been enough.

As it was, when the bloodletters fled west over the seas, when the greatest portals were destroyed, when the Urdu wiped the last cultist's blood from their spears...

The Asaa Valley was no more. Its orchards destroyed, its herds and people scattered. Even were the last rifts sealed, it would take years, decades to bring it to its former glory. If such a thing ever occurred.

And deep in the void, aboard the bridge of the Pinnacle of Spite, the gods laughed and a twelve-armed bloodthirster joined Lord Wyrmwood to survey what he had wrought.

Spoiler: Results

Chaos Cults in 1st Shichi People's Free Corps and Asaa Valley destroyed. The Penitents, a econ asset belonging to the Profane, are revealed as Cults and damaged.

Apocalypse Invoked in Asaa Valley: Asaa Valley takes 1 damage and is destroyed. Becomes Asaa Valley [Ruins]. Chaos Rift and a Chaos Demon army are created on site. Fortification efforts succeed, the Ruins become Fortified 1.

Approximate civilian casualties: 23 million [Including previous turn]

Reflexive Combat: Shichi People's Free Corps, Stormwind Banner Boreas, and Fochia's Urdu fight Chaos Demons. Chaos Demons flee to parts unknown. Chaos Rift is contained and Damaged.

Repair action at the Asaa Valley will be redirected.

Shichi Metroplex provides a new Militia to @Academia Nut

Gig - Econ - Penitents - Damaged

23 Million is going to be the largest chaos death toll this turn! @Gig_Complex gains Vordrai Twelve-Armed [Bloodthirster Military Asset]!

 

[Academia Nut]

An enkhippos appears rather awkward to outsiders, a squat body with apparently chubby legs with a too long neck and tail that seem to flap in the wind when they move. From a distance they looked kind of fat and airy. This was an illusion, as the enkhippos were a peculiar semi-aquatic breed that was mostly dense muscle and bone, the motion of their necks and tails a way of helping them to cut through the water as they ran instead of swimming. Also, while nonpredatory and content to eat vegetation, they were aggressively omnivorous if there was carrion in front of them, which there often was if anything decided to press one of their many territoriality buttons. It was said that the only reason the eel-horses let humans ride them was because humans had a tendency to strap large slabs of metal to the creatures when they got on them, and the ornery bastards enjoyed it.

The actual truth as the nomads knew it was that human fingers could get into spots that itched. Anyone who thought you could somehow bully an enkhippos into doing anything like some other domesticated species was an idiot who very shortly would only be identifiable via careful Mechanicus analysis of manure. As such the bond between horse and rider went deep, and more than one invader over the past year had discovered that sometimes shooting the rider just caused a few thousand kilos of pissed off omnivore to charge in maddened grief.

Shooting the mount itself was easy in that they were large targets, but even the Emperor's Angels (or the traitor versions, which was a nightmarish thing to learn!) had discovered that their bolters did not have enough punch to reliably down an enkhippos through single centre of mass shots, and the way their heads moved as they ran made actually hitting vitals rather difficult.

Of course, since the men under Khan Fochia weren't stupid they distinctly preferred not to get into situations where they needed to rely on the durability of their mounts. They had weapons teams where one man was the rider and another one or two would fire heavy weapons, allowing them to skirmish at range. They made careful probes and observed, drawing enemies out from defensive positions into prepared locations. Many squads had man and beast alike equipped with rebreather equipment so they could wait for hours just beneath the surface of the water for enemies to get unsuspectingly close before emerging in explosive bursts of violence to apply muscle, laser, and high explosive at point blank range. At least one traitor angel had taken a hunting lance to the neck in the past year, the shaped charge at the tip cutting through ceramite and flesh to transform ten thousand years of experience into a family heirloom after it was properly cleansed of taint.

None of those tactics applied here.

Temji was the Khan's personal war enkhippos, and as such had received extensive cybernetic modifications. He was everything an eel-horse could be and then magnified with steel and adamantium and ceramite. It took about three fully armoured enkhippos to flip a Salamander scout tank with some reliability. Temji could do it at a full charge on his own. Armed with hellpistol and a five metre long power lance, with a blessed flamer and chainsword for once he got stuck in, the Khan was a force that even the Emperor's Angels could dismiss in close combat. Normally he was too busy coordinating action in his command centre, surrounded by a dozen vox operators relying reports and commands. Not today though. Today it was personal.

The Valley was gone. For some men it had been their birth home, and for others it was their adoptive one. Either way it was now a burnt out husk where daemons haunted the bloodsoaked rocks, transformed from greenery into ruin in a single awful moment.

Unfortunately for the daemons, the Khan was in full wargear and charging at the head of his Urdu, cries of "BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD ANGEL!" upon his lips and the lips of those around him.

If the creatures of primal rage could be amused, they might have been, if not for whispers on the wind that should have no power but did.

Seers sang droning songs that told of the Blood Angel breaking the back of an unruly daemon, invoking the tale to bind all servants of that loser as slaves to the victor. It didn't precisely work, but it had just enough power that the bloody spirits found their motions slowed and the rifts they could call reinforcements from flickering and closing with the raw belief that the Urdu could hate them out of existence. Sometimes ghostly hands even reached out and grabbed at arms and legs at just the wrong moment, the tattered remnants of the sacrificed called back to interfere with their killers.

The Valley was dead. There was no changing that.

The Khan was going to make sure that the only ghosts that haunted it would be of his people.

 

[Havocfett]

0567.137 M42

The combined fleet snaking through Hexos' massive asteroid belt, the remains of a jovian system that had torn itself apart more than a million years ago, was a strange thing. Imperial warships, armed merchantmen, and local pirates stalked the most dangerous prey in the system.

Neither the merchants nor the pirates knew how the High Marshall had gotten her information, merely that she had told them that there was a chaos fleet to hunt, and strange allies would be needed to hunt them. They had spent days approaching their destination, their admiral hoping that her chosen friends would come to her aid as they neared a cluster of asteroids surrounding a titanic, jagged dwarf planet.

Then, holo-fields rippling, the allies arrived. The sleek hull of the Mythwright and her multifarious escorts, arriving at flank speed with an offering of fresh sensor data and minefields laid around the Chaos base. There was confusion, yelling over the comms, and more than a few threats, but after several minutes the fleet formed up and advanced upon the planetoid.

As they did, drive flares lit within, a chaos flotilla rising up from the planet's surface. Void shields and holo-fields flared to life, weapon bays primed

As the combined fleet moved to strike, a voice echoed across all channels. "Lord High Marshal," intoned Hexaros, "I've been expecting you."

As one, the pirates in the Imperial fleet turned upon their masters, screaming death to xenos and accusing the High Marshall of treason as their boarding crews launched. Engines hastily attached to several smaller asteroids flared to life, on a collision course with the Imperial fleet, and the still-outnumbered chaos flotilla gunned its engines.

The Imperials had not merely been expected, they had been betrayed. Not by the aliens, but by one within their own ranks. And now they were in the jaws of a trap.

Still, High Marshall Isabella was a peerless naval officer. The Indefagitable barked orders in every direction, scattering her escorts and counter-attacking in the same motion.

Within minutes, the ambush had fallen apart. The frigate Rhadamanthine had been stricken, engines disabled by an asteroid strike and bridge crushed by a lucky strike, and the carrier Redoubtable was bleeding atmosphere, but the Imperials had held and, more than that, crossed the T of the chaos formation.

In the ensuing bloodbath, the Indefagitable had torn the pirates to pieces, the Mythwright had stripped shields from the Pinnacle of Spite, while Isabella's destroyers had sunk three torpedoes into Hexaros' battle barge and even Brunern Security's glorified merchantmen had landed commandos on the surface, engaging in heated gunfights with surviving Straight Path cultists.

The flotillas broke from each other, the Imperial-aeldari fleet regrouping, the Chaos fleet praying for any last advantage as they drifted towards each other once more.

Guns cycled, engines cooled, trajectories calculated as the inexorable grip of physics propelled warships onwards. An inescapable tension as the next moments would seal the fate of thousands, would see the chaos warfleet and the troops aboard its asteroid bases torn to pieces by the combined fleet.

But his prayers were answered, for Lord Hexaros witnessed a miracle.

Hessarai of the Horns, the loudest of Slaanesh' keeper of secrets, ripped her way out of the throats of a dozen cultist psykers aboard Hexaros' flagship. Sacred cacophony blaring from her chest, hands raised in holy symbols, she bound herself into the flagship. Lance batteries awrped into amps, macro-cannons into synthesizers, and the six sacred strings of Slaanesh ran across her hull.

There can be no sound in space. Its addition is a trick of the mind, an aid by ancient, straining circuitry to render war in the void legible to human commanders. But such trivialities of physical reality are no object to those with true power. Lord Hexaros raised an arm and commanded his flagship into the fray, and the void sang.

Sound buffeted the Imperial fleet, giving the chaos flotilla the opening it needed to attack. The Whip was shaken to pieces by the daemonic music, the 10th escort squadron so battered that it pivoted away from the line, retreating to relative safety.

Alas, this was the last mistake it would make. Drukhari mimic engines flickered off, revealing the Skinless Skull Armada disguised as stricken pirate vessels. The Drukhari ripped the damaged escort squadron to pieces, and would have fallen upon the flank of the Imperial fleet had the Mythwright and its escort not leapt upon them. Holo-fields and shadowfields flickered, Bright and Dark lances tearing through the void as the hated enemies danced among the stars.

But the battle had been lost, and Isabella would not throw away the lives of her sailors in a failed fight. The Imperial fleet disengaged, towing their ships to the relative safety of aeldari minefields, as Lords Hexaros and Wyrmwood assessed their wounds and surveyed their salvage.

Spoiler: Results

Aeldari-Imperial taskforce attacks the Chaos asteroid base, Imperial fleet elements stumble into a trap! Drukhari raiders come to Chaos' aid.

A triple-tasked asset is unable to join the fight!

Allied fortifications are denied to the Imperial side by sabotage!

Hidden Aeldari fortifications assist the Imperial side.

Hidden Chaos fortifications assist Chaos.

Slaanesh is pleased! Slaanesh assists Chaos.

7 assets on each side. Both are 3 Mass.

17 successes v 11 successes. Slaanesh assesses that this is chaos' darkest hour, and provides a pooled 7 successes. 17 successes v 18 successes. Chaos minor victory. Sabotage bumps to normal victory. Imperial-aeldari take 2, chaos takes 1.

Total: 5 damage to Imperium and Aeldari, 4 to Chaos and Drukhari.

Damage Allocation:

3 Imperial repairs (No successes) and 4 chaos repairs (1 with successes) resolve:

Skippy - Space Marines - Battlecruiser Indefagitable and Complement - Damaged - Repaired but Exhausted.

Skippy - Navy - 10th Escort Squadron - Destroyed

Skippy - Navy - 13th Torpedo Squadron - Damaged. Repaired but Exhausted.

Who? - Navy - Brunern Security - Damaged - Repaired but Exhausted.

Average - Cult - The Straight Path - Destroyed

Gig - Space Marines - The Gods-Touched - Damaged - Repaired

Chaos Asteroid Base - Destroyed

Maugan - Navy - Slaughter-Class - Damaged - Repaired but Exhausted.

Maugan - Military - Levied Troops [Damaged last turn] - Repaired but Exhausted

Gig - Space Marines - 3rd Host [Damaged last turn] - Repaired but Exhausted

The defeat of the imperial flotilla left the mines defenseless against hostile action, with immediate negative consequences for the Brunern Concern. Pirate grew bold, ignoring their deals struck with the loyalist government to pillage shipping across the space lanes.

Brutalized by the battle against Lord Hexaros, the Brunern Concern could do little but watch as shipment after shipment of vital war materiel disappeared into the ether and profit lines trended inexorably downwards.

The pirates, however, would swiftly find each other their largest problem.

Gunfights between pulse-carbine wielding raiders and multi-armed archaeologists would see auction houses full of xenos relics detonated or ransacked. The resulting violence resulted in a wave of archaeologists, bounty hunters, and fanatical anti-xenos mobs swarming the mines in search of aeldari ruins. Several ships full of pilgrims were taken by Drukhari raiders, and several profitable asteroid mines filled with horrific, screaming explosives by the same.

Pirates slid into port, swishing handfuls of Hexos Sevenpence and getting into brawls with mutant miners. Rumors swirled of worse fights, miners ripping each other to pieces in the shadows and unleashing strange, drugged up horrors into sleeping quarters and maintenance tunnels.

At one point, a four-way brawl between rival factions erupted into the Cardinal Pius' cathedral. Several priests were saved from the crossfire by apologetic mutants, and the Cardinal's holy mitre was stolen by Captain Jea'ni herself before the pirates escaped the onrushing arbites.

Then, as the year came to a close, a psychic shockwave tore through the asteroid mines. Sanctioned psykers writhed in pain, as dozens of astropaths relayed a single, crystal clear message:

Father Xavier must die, and the creature claiming the mines would do anything to make that happen.

Spoiler: Results

Simultaneous attacks on mysterious locations in the mines, the mines, the cathedral and cardinal, and the asteroid habitats in general all run into each other.

It is not entirely clear what occurred, but the Asteroid Mine's shipments to the rest of the system are some combination of destroyed, stolen, and misappropriated, as well as a suspicious amount of Hexos Sevenpence and the Cardinal's hat.

An outright feeding frenzy of speculators, bounty hunters, and archaeologists swarm the asteroid mines in search of xenos artifacts

The Hexos Sevenpence begins to destabilize due to rampant pirate counterfeiting.

The Asteroid Mines lose Imperial Fortification.

A Broodlord appears in the Asteroid Mines and declares war upon all extant genestealer players.

Several assets exhausted by the confusion.

 

[Cornuthaum]

At one point, a four-way brawl between rival factions erupted into the Cardinal Pius' cathedral. Several priests were saved from the crossfire by apologetic mutants, and the Cardinal's holy mitre was stolen by Captain Jea'ni herself before the pirates escaped the onrushing arbites.

Click to shrink...

CATHEDRAL OF THE GOD-EMPEROR-UPON-ASTEROIDS OF THE ECCLESIARCHY-IN-EXILE
THE ASTEROID RING, OUTER HEXOS SYSTEM
LESS THAN A DAY AFTER THE RAID

"Where is he?" A frightened voice, a man on the breaking point.

"What is he doing?" A voice thick with unspent tears. Harried for years, driven from their home.

"What did we do to deserve this?" A voice haunted by the spectre of treason and xeno at every turn.

They hustle and they bustle, the sound of construction servitors with drills and pneuma-chisels expanding the asteroid cathedral a constant drumbeat in the background.

It takes hours for Pius, the Faithful, the Fourth, the Young, a man of some epithets already, to emerge from his isolated prayer cell. For the first time in years - for the first time since this insurrection started - even the Cardinal's unflagging mien has cracks. Short stubble points to someone too shaken to shave. The bags under his eyes are deep enough to make his face as skeletal as the comms-servo-skull flying beside him. There is a stoop to his gait, the weight of events getting to their leader at last. For the first time since the flight from the Hive, he is not wearing his armour, either, clad instead in simple breeches and a penitent's hairshirt.

It is not a good sight, nor a heartening sight, to see their leader and spiritual guide absent the gravitas and majesty expected of a Cardinal of the Imperium. He walks in silence to his podium, to address them all.

But no matter his looks, no matter the weight upon him, his soul burns for Terra still, his heart beats yet for the Master of Mankind.

"We have sinned, and we have failed." Dark, exhausted eyes sweep over an assembly that is in no better state than he. "Our defenders, dead. Our guards, scattered. Our reliquaries, looted." Those closest can see the Cardinal's white-knuckled fists, a rage almost beyond human limits burning within him. "AND OUR DIGNITY? DESPOILED!" The roar bursts out of him like a red-hot maelstrom of sparks and embers that can be contained in one heart no longer.

"IT! TOOK! XENO!-FORMED! MUTANTS! TO! SAVE! US!" Each word emphasized with building rage. His sallow face reddening from the effort of stentorian breaths in between shouts.

He stands there, on his podium, heaving with the effort of mastering that fury again. It is a quote from scripture, studied and known as rote, by heart, that manages to convey Pius is winning against the storm surging within. "Maccabeans 4:27: The xenos crave our righteous iconography, seeking the fulfilment of the soul we find in them. But lo, the xeno, soulless and adrift in the cosmos, can never know the embrace of the God-Emperor as we do. So they steal, and they take, seeking solace ever beyond them. Thus the wandering xeno can never aspire to be more than a thief and despoiler, and death is its only just reward."

Most of the auditorium speaks the words with him - they have studied the Maccabean scriptures too, and in this day and age, after what happened? Hatred of the Other, the Enemy WIthout, is as sacred and as unifying as the hatred of the Enemy Within.

"We have failed in the eyes of the God-Emperor. And we must cleanse ourselves of this sin in the only way that we, bereft of women under arms in the eyes of the God-Emperor, can cleanse ourselves. Send for the electro-scourges."

---

Deacon Odia. You are guilty of dereliction of duty in guarding the reliquary of the Cathedral of the God-Emperor-Upon-Asteroids.. Your death sentence is commuted only due to our existing manpower shortage. Your punishment is six lashes from the Electro-Scourge and a half-decade of ceaseless labour.

---

Deacon Mehmed. You are guilty of dereliction of duty in safeguarding the bodily purity of those who attend the Cathedral of the God-Emperor-Upon-Asteroids. Your death sentence is commuted only due to our existing manpower shortage. Your punishment is six lashes from the Electro-Scourge and a half-decade of ceaseless labour.

---

Preceptor Julio. You are guilty of dereliction of duty in guiding the Arbites in the defence the Cathedral of the God-Emperor-Upon-Asteroids. Your death sentence is commuted only due to our existing manpower shortage. Your punishment is eight lashes from the Electro-Scourge and the branding-iron of cowardice.

---

Archdeacon Sebastianus. You are guilty of dereliction of duty in defending the Sanctissimum Sanctorum of the Cathedral of the God-Emperor-Upon-Asteroids. Your death sentence is commuted only due to our existing manpower shortage. Your punishment is four lashes from the Electro-Scourge every week until such a time as the sacred Mitre of the Cardinal is recovered or you are martyred.

---

Judgement is rendered, one after another. The lash crackles with caged lightning, and the screams of those so judged chase the miasmatic stench of despair away. They suffer under the eyes of the God-Emperor, for Him on Earth, and in so doing all attending find renewed purpose.

But there is one last judgement that must be rendered. With reverent motions, Pius removes the coarse penitent's shirt, walking in silence to the dais where the whipping-post has been erected.

"There is none here who has the authority to judge me, so I shall judge myself. I am guilty of dereliction of duty in safeguarding the souls of all Hexos, in allowing the spread of xeno-heresy, in allowing the spread of the Archenemy's lies. I am guilty of the sins of Complacency and Compassion. My sins are the sins of coin-counting, of trying to build bridges when I should have built pyres. Twelve strokes of the Electro-Scourge, and may my death, when it comes for me, afford me a measure of grace in the eyes of Him on Earth."

It is, all agree, adequate punishment, for all that the Cardinal is rendered insensate and halfway unto death's door from it. But half-death is the cheap price of failure for those of exalted status - if not for the circumstances of the crusade, he should have been whipped wholly to death.

 

[Havocfett]

0630.137 M42

It had taken weeks to assemble the new Imperial offensive. Every military asset the crusade fleet could spare had been assembled, skitarii marched alongside penal troopers, mordian guard, armed pilgrims, and sisters of battle. Lines of command had been painstakingly drawn and re-drawn, ensuring no repeat of the first offensive's miscommunications.

By the time the army began its march, their first lines of opposition had disappeared. The blockading troops had assessed their odds and, in the end, decided that discretion was the better part of valor.

As such, they enjoyed more than a week of clear marching before arriving in the poisoned wastelands and salted marshes of the Sab'a mines. Once this among the most verdant lands on Hexos, attracting artists from across the sector simply to paint its sunsets and pristine mangroves. Now, it was a thousand mile march over poisoned swamp, dry riverbeds, and caustic runoff, lit by the far-off detonation of atomics from orbital bombardment.

Engagements were sparse and brief. Flashes of gunfire and artillery duels, sentries and patrols going missing in the night before the foe slipped away under cover of darkness. Ancient dams and dykes were blown, flooding paths of advance and subsidiary mines with torrents of saline water. Each one slowed the advance, draining precious resources as engineering corps moved to ensure mining infrastructure could be salvaged and returned to work as swiftly as possible.

Slowly, the noose tightened. A lucky orbital strike at a nebulous group of heat signatures eradicated a full brigade of the Sab'a Sappers and the rebel miners they were escorting away from the combat zone. Genestealer hybrids were thrown back by penal guard time and again, a full swarm enveloped, bombarded, and destroyed by the I Airborne Corps. Inquisitorial agents and zealous pilgrims, guarded by the 3rd Mordian, engaged a Drukhari cabal in combat at one of the main mine-complexes, dealing grievous casualties and disabling the singularity charges and monofilament traps left within.

Flush with the certainty of victory, the penal regiments lead a charge against the slowly retreating rebels, attempting to pin them for orbital bombardment to do its grim work. The 1st Shichi Free Corps, Dragon's Teeth, and Sab'a Sappers stood against them, unleashing hell from defensive positions to cover the retreat. As they did, the Vow of Sacrifice and 38th Aeronautica moved into position, ready to unleash nuclear hell on the battling forces.

However, as they descended into the upper atmosphere, Tau signatures appeared on their scopes. Spinetail command dropped from the void, pouncing on the would-be bombarders in a flurry of missiles and railgun rounds. The Vow was struck amidships, her great bombardment lances warped beyond all recognition as the Imperial flotilla moved to defend itself. However, by the time they reoriented the Tau had moved on, using the planet's gravity to slingshot themselves back out of gun range. Wary of another attack, the Imperial fleet moved to a defensive orbit, dancing with the Tau flotilla, neither quite able to engage the other.

Unfortunately, this left the penal regiments largely unsupported. The 1st Regiment took ruinous casualties, many of their number drowned in toxic effluvia when the Shichi saboteur blew a runoff dam upstream. They were saved from complete disaster when the Army of the Emperor's Will and the III Line Corps pushed up to relieve them, allowing the 38th Aeronautica to manage medevac from orbit and forcing the defenders to retreat.

Even once the mines were taken, the various booby-traps and sabotage attempts within carefully disarmed, and new work crews imported from the asteroid belt, the fighting had not truly ended. A week before new year's eve, the 1666th Inquisitorial Company sounded an alarm deep within one of the Prometheum mines. Paulinus himself, accompanied by his inner circle and the Army of the Emperor's Will, swept to the rescue.

Alas, they were too late. A horrific detonation, followed by extended gunfire and terrible, unearthly screams echoed from the mine for hours. In the aftermath, the survivors reported a genestealer trap that had seen the Inquisitorial Company slaughtered and many of the Army infected with an unknown contagion, spirited away to the Spaceyards for quarantine.

Spoiler: Sab'a Mine Results

Imperial army invades the Sab'a Mines, Rebels evacuate

Fortifications assist the rebels

13 v 11 Successes. Imperial minor victory! Mines are taken intact, with fortifications. Rebels industry and all units to Lower Hive. Both sides take 1.

7 ground assets + 2 indiscriminate bombardment on the Imperial side (No unintentional collateral rolled), 7 ground assets on the Rebel side. 3 Mass each. -1 for Evac.

3 Total damage to each side.

Post battle, Crilltics Zealots damaged by covert action.

Rebels have 2 Arms: 2 Damage eaten. 1 unit Exhausted.

Imperials have 1 arm: 1 damage eaten, 1 unit exhausted

Imperials spend 2 repairs, no successes. Rebels spend 1 repair with a success.

Damage Allocation:

Scia - Military - First Sab'a Sappers - Damaged - Repaired and Exhausted by Arm.

Scia - Zealots - Dragon's Teeth - Exhausted by counterintelligence

Crilltic - Navy - Grand Cruiser Vow of Sacrifice and escort - Damaged - Repaired but Exhausted

Crilltic - Zealots - Inquisitorial Company 1666 - Damaged by covert action

Carol - Military - 1st Armored Regiment - Damaged - Repaired but exhausted

Crusade Fleet - Military - 3rd Mordian - Exhausted by Arm

Aleph - Raiders - Shard of the Bloodied Pelt - Damaged by counterintelligence

 

[Havocfett]

0842.137 M42

The spaceyards had lain fallow for most of the year. The Rebels attempts at organizing a navy had fallen apart with the crusade fleet's arrival, the crusade fleets attempts to follow up mass pardons with pre-rebellion work rotations crushed by a lack of shipments from the asteroid mines.

Paradoxically, this worked out acceptably for the loyalists government. Dockworkers, enjoying their previous pay and mere 9-hour shifts, were much less inclined to riot or threaten labor actions. Sororitas preaching at the great causeways and lay temples of the spaceyards drew grand crowds, many eager to see those they viewed as embodied saints. There was still grumbling, old labor families demanding a full restoration of privileges from Paulinius, but it mercifully remained just that.

Then, for the first time in months, a full convoy made its way out of the asteroid mines. There was rejoicing, repair bays were fired up, and plans were made for mandatory uncompensated overtime to finish months worth of repairs by the end of the year.

Until a surviving inquisitorial acolyte intervened and demanded the orbital guns shoot the convoy down. Unfortunately, the orbital guns were still deprived of ammo, so the order went out to the local Mechanicus vessels instead.

Macro-cannons and lance batteries tore the convoy apart, many aboard the station screaming protests at what they saw as the senseless slaughter of their comrades. Only a single shuttle broke through the cordon, crash-landing in an empty hangar.

Rather than wounded, terrified sailors, horrors ripped their way free from the hulk. Screaming, multi-armed things with flayed flesh and horrific burns from the crash. Sororitas flamers burned them and quarantine enacted. A dozen people were killed by the monstrous plagues coursing through the creatures' veins, but such were acceptable casualties considering how bad things could have been.

In the aftermath, the acolytes began a full scale investigation of the spaceyards and its attendant fleets. Crew, supervisors, corporate scions and more were unceremoniously shot and ejected from airlocks. Every day revealed a new trial and new deaths, with a thousand menials pulled from the lower-decks of the 22nd Cruiser Squadron and influential families stripped of beloved heirs.

The good feeling of the previous months had disappeared. Rebellious sentiment had reappeared in the yards, and many who had welcomed the Imperial return, who had been on the first freighters repopulating the shipyards with loyalists, now saw the appeal of insurrection.

Spoiler: "Spaceyard Results"

Lack of supplies from the Mines results in work slowing down.

Morale among dockworkers is built up by generous hours, pardons, and zealous preaching

Morale among loyalists administrators and ship crews severely harmed by purges

Several freighters full of biohazards blown to pieces by defenders. Lacking easy targets, Drukhari raiders scarper without engaging.

Repair List:

Zorakov - Navy - Emperor's Will pilgrimage ship - Repaired

Crilltic - Space Marines - Sacred Rose Commandery XIV - Repaired but Exhausted

Crilltic - Space Marines - Sacred Rose Commandery VI - Repaired but Exhausted

 

[Gargulec]

Article:

TO: Sraelian Juud, Archon, Pain-drinker, Wee Little Babby, etc.

Hi Srae, what are you up to? Can't say I heard anything about you lately. By the way, I stole the Cardinal's ancient Battle Mitre in full view of his congregation, and made sure the entire system saw it!

INCLUDED: A holo-recording of Princess Jea'ni slouched leisurely on her throne, wearing the Battle Mitre.

 

[Aleph]

Article:

TO: Pillow Princess Jea'ni, Senile Old Hag, etc.

Jea'ni, I see you're not only in bed with the lower lifeforms, you're also helping them with their domestic squabbles now. Do console your pet over the lack of any material to repair its ships with - unless it wants me to send some more of my own helpers from the asteroid belt to that quaint little orbital platform. Or perhaps you're the one playing pet. You did seem to be following after the mon-keigh on a leash.

Sorry to miss you in the belt skirmish, my dark lance gunners will aim better next time.

- Archon Sraelian Juud

INCLUDED: Images of a wealth of industry, resources and screaming captives taken from the asteroid mines, with a row of empty torture pods reserved for Jea'ni's command staff.

 

[Gargulec]

Article:

TO: The Charmingly Angry Archon Sraelian

Oh nice! Talking about rummaging, look at what I found in my treasure room!

INCLUDED: Image of Sraelian's grandmother's ancestral klaive, mounted on a wall.