The Phoenix and the Flames 3
Fabius was en route to Luna, needing support for his project. While he doubted the Selinar would have the reach and resources to use his work on Marines, they had the influence to help his work truly take root. He had secured his research in various ways: on the data slate on his lap, in the cogitator aboard the Legion's flagship, in paper documents stored with a trustworthy Legionary, with parts left with the Matriarch he had been collaborating with, and a final backup stashed in a small bunker from the last campaign. Fabius trusted that his work would survive the journey, regardless of the Cult's response to his request.
He felt the escort ship shift vectors, adjusting as they neared the center of the Empire. But his blood ran cold when the ship ignored its destination and headed toward Terra. Fabius could likely overpower the entire mortal crew, but those capable of redirecting a Legion escort were not the type he could easily handle. He pulled his volkite pistol from its holster to keep it within easy reach. The ship docked at one of the many orbital starports around Terra, and to Fabius' slight surprise, no one greeted him as he disembarked. For a moment, he considered the possibility of an incident at the Lunar starport they were supposed to dock at, but the lack of communication from the crew and the absence of anyone to direct him to a Lunar shuttle dismissed any innocent explanation.
"Paranoia is a very healthy trait for a man to cultivate," said a young mortal woman in a mechanic's suit. He had initially dismissed her as one of the many AdMech serfs scurrying around the starport, maintaining the vessels. Even now, after she had drawn attention to herself, he found her entirely unremarkable, easily blending into the background. Few people possessed such skills, and Fabius had never encountered an assassin before this moment.
"Imperial bureaucrat, or the Selinar?" His hand stayed away from the volkite pistol; against a normal mortal, it would have vaporized her before she could react, but here he doubted the situation would play out so simply.
"You think I would reveal who sent me?" Fabius shifted slightly. His armor, one of the newer models designed by the Iron Primarch, was strong, but he had no doubt an assassin would know every weakness, even in a new model.
"It's the only reason I can see for you to speak at all." He had other theories, but they all seemed unlikely or assumed she was a fool. It was better to consider her highly competent and be pleasantly surprised than the other way around.
"It's simple: I'm a messenger, not a blade today." He considered the possibility; it was plausible, though he doubted anyone would use an assassin merely as a messenger.
"Then what is your message?" This was the prompt; if she had a trick, she would act now. Instead of speaking, she glanced around before raising a hand. Fabius activated the Narthecium on his gauntlet, ready to counter her, only for her to smirk as the world around them pulsed. Instinct and Astartes biology allowed him to close himself off in the moment they were torn from reality and thrust into the Warp. Though the shift through the Immaterium lasted mere moments, Fabius stumbled upon landing, unprepared for the experience as his training in resisting teleportarium effects was minimal.
"Hello, Fabius, Apothecary of the IIIrd Legion." The voice came with a psychic pressure, as if he had been plunged from the void into the deepest ocean trench. He could barely think, his responses sluggish as his thoughts moved like hardening resin. "I am someone who finds your work fascinating and sees its potential. I have an offer for you: work with me to protect the Imperium from its most insidious foes, and you will have all you need to continue your projects."
The pressure eased, and Fabius turned quickly to face his captor. The figure before him halted his movement; an old man in a robe, easily mistaken for a mid-level scribe, save for the blindfold around his head and the symbol atop his staff. This was the Sigillite, advisor to the First and Second Emperors. Fabius realized he had no leverage or power over this man. This was no overreaching councilor or traitorous cultist; this was an offer Fabius couldn't refuse, though it was in a form he hadn't anticipated.
It was the highest honor to pen an amendment to the Codex Militarum of the IIIrd Legion. To mark down one's insights meant that one had encountered a truly novel situation or was a strategic genius uncovering new insights. The Codex was not a true book or document but a living record of the IIIrd Legion.
It contained the greatest triumphs and blunders, analyzed and recorded for future generations. Neophytes would spend their time between duties studying the ways of war, learning everything from commanding human infantry and armor to managing living warships and psychically reactive ooze xenos. Everything known to the Legion was covered, teaching them how to integrate disparate forces. The Codex wasn't perfect, with many gaps still to be found, but it was a testament to the Legion's dedication to the art of war.
To be a Legionary of the IIIrd Legion meant pursuing three main goals: perfecting one's craft in battle, mastering the knowledge of strategy, and deepening the understanding of warfare's complexities. The Legion's culture was one of studious generals, master commanders of the Imperium's myriad forces. The most promising mortal officers would study sections of the Codex Militarum to hone their skills in specific strategic areas.
Through the tireless efforts of the IIIrd Legion, the Solar Auxilia grew stronger, even where the Legion was not present. The armies of the Imperium gained a better understanding of their components and how to deploy them effectively, strengthening the Empire.
Cassian Vaughn threw the melta at the Eldar before him, the destroyed walker beside the Xeno preventing the warrior from dodging. The alien was fast, dodging back despite injuries, avoiding the sizzling edge of his power sword. The other Eldar lay dead around him, alongside several broken Xeno vehicles, evidence of his efforts.
His armor cracked audibly as the alien shuriken weapon struck his back. It wasn't the first hit they landed, but still, he fought on, his blade in hand, eyes burning with determination. He knew how this fight would end, as it had for so many of his Legion. He did not care; this was his duty. His blade would claim the lives of the Imperium's enemies until his blood joined the Xeno on the ground. Let it flow; his life was for the Imperium, and he would spend it to buy success.
The push failed, and a man died, but enough of him was recovered for the Empire's medical technologies to allow him to fight even in death. The Eldar, after many such failed endeavors, found the distractions that delayed humanity's reinforcements over, with the might of the Imperium's navy arriving. Despite their losses and efforts, the ancient pacts could not be fulfilled, and as Imperial forces arrived, the Xeno worldship retreated into the void. The world was taken, and the Imperium learned it was an Exodite world. The fighting had decimated the local population, and the Imperium, not one to leave resources untapped, planned to bring human settlers to the war-scarred planet.
The XVIIIth Legion had gained a battle-worn chapter, one whose circumstances echoed this small war's impact, resonating with the Legion as a whole.
[][Scars] Eldar Bane
The heroics led the Legion to learn much about the Xenos they faced, kindling a burning hatred. The Legion sharpened their blades and honed their skills, becoming adept at facing Eldar and other fast but fragile foes.
[][Scars] Requiem
The Legion is one of heroes, relics, and memories. Each Legionary meticulously maintains their gear; when one falls, reclaiming their personal relic is as critical as retrieving the gene-seed. This culture keeps the Legion smaller than it could be, but each Astartes wields a masterwork, and each champion bears the weight of ages.
[][Scars] Mortium
Many died, far more than should have against such a foe, revealing a weakness in the Legion. Or perhaps the Legion draws strength from the dead. Each Legionary is worth more in death than in life; each battle sees more casualties than other Legions would accept. But to the XVIIIth, each death is empowering, a moment when each Astartes shines the brightest.
Choice of the next legions:
[][Cloaked in Shadows and Mystery]
[][Lost and Forgotten]
[][Dusk and Night]
[][Blood and Scars]
He felt the escort ship shift vectors, adjusting as they neared the center of the Empire. But his blood ran cold when the ship ignored its destination and headed toward Terra. Fabius could likely overpower the entire mortal crew, but those capable of redirecting a Legion escort were not the type he could easily handle. He pulled his volkite pistol from its holster to keep it within easy reach. The ship docked at one of the many orbital starports around Terra, and to Fabius' slight surprise, no one greeted him as he disembarked. For a moment, he considered the possibility of an incident at the Lunar starport they were supposed to dock at, but the lack of communication from the crew and the absence of anyone to direct him to a Lunar shuttle dismissed any innocent explanation.
"Paranoia is a very healthy trait for a man to cultivate," said a young mortal woman in a mechanic's suit. He had initially dismissed her as one of the many AdMech serfs scurrying around the starport, maintaining the vessels. Even now, after she had drawn attention to herself, he found her entirely unremarkable, easily blending into the background. Few people possessed such skills, and Fabius had never encountered an assassin before this moment.
"Imperial bureaucrat, or the Selinar?" His hand stayed away from the volkite pistol; against a normal mortal, it would have vaporized her before she could react, but here he doubted the situation would play out so simply.
"You think I would reveal who sent me?" Fabius shifted slightly. His armor, one of the newer models designed by the Iron Primarch, was strong, but he had no doubt an assassin would know every weakness, even in a new model.
"It's the only reason I can see for you to speak at all." He had other theories, but they all seemed unlikely or assumed she was a fool. It was better to consider her highly competent and be pleasantly surprised than the other way around.
"It's simple: I'm a messenger, not a blade today." He considered the possibility; it was plausible, though he doubted anyone would use an assassin merely as a messenger.
"Then what is your message?" This was the prompt; if she had a trick, she would act now. Instead of speaking, she glanced around before raising a hand. Fabius activated the Narthecium on his gauntlet, ready to counter her, only for her to smirk as the world around them pulsed. Instinct and Astartes biology allowed him to close himself off in the moment they were torn from reality and thrust into the Warp. Though the shift through the Immaterium lasted mere moments, Fabius stumbled upon landing, unprepared for the experience as his training in resisting teleportarium effects was minimal.
"Hello, Fabius, Apothecary of the IIIrd Legion." The voice came with a psychic pressure, as if he had been plunged from the void into the deepest ocean trench. He could barely think, his responses sluggish as his thoughts moved like hardening resin. "I am someone who finds your work fascinating and sees its potential. I have an offer for you: work with me to protect the Imperium from its most insidious foes, and you will have all you need to continue your projects."
The pressure eased, and Fabius turned quickly to face his captor. The figure before him halted his movement; an old man in a robe, easily mistaken for a mid-level scribe, save for the blindfold around his head and the symbol atop his staff. This was the Sigillite, advisor to the First and Second Emperors. Fabius realized he had no leverage or power over this man. This was no overreaching councilor or traitorous cultist; this was an offer Fabius couldn't refuse, though it was in a form he hadn't anticipated.
It was the highest honor to pen an amendment to the Codex Militarum of the IIIrd Legion. To mark down one's insights meant that one had encountered a truly novel situation or was a strategic genius uncovering new insights. The Codex was not a true book or document but a living record of the IIIrd Legion.
It contained the greatest triumphs and blunders, analyzed and recorded for future generations. Neophytes would spend their time between duties studying the ways of war, learning everything from commanding human infantry and armor to managing living warships and psychically reactive ooze xenos. Everything known to the Legion was covered, teaching them how to integrate disparate forces. The Codex wasn't perfect, with many gaps still to be found, but it was a testament to the Legion's dedication to the art of war.
To be a Legionary of the IIIrd Legion meant pursuing three main goals: perfecting one's craft in battle, mastering the knowledge of strategy, and deepening the understanding of warfare's complexities. The Legion's culture was one of studious generals, master commanders of the Imperium's myriad forces. The most promising mortal officers would study sections of the Codex Militarum to hone their skills in specific strategic areas.
Through the tireless efforts of the IIIrd Legion, the Solar Auxilia grew stronger, even where the Legion was not present. The armies of the Imperium gained a better understanding of their components and how to deploy them effectively, strengthening the Empire.
Cassian Vaughn threw the melta at the Eldar before him, the destroyed walker beside the Xeno preventing the warrior from dodging. The alien was fast, dodging back despite injuries, avoiding the sizzling edge of his power sword. The other Eldar lay dead around him, alongside several broken Xeno vehicles, evidence of his efforts.
His armor cracked audibly as the alien shuriken weapon struck his back. It wasn't the first hit they landed, but still, he fought on, his blade in hand, eyes burning with determination. He knew how this fight would end, as it had for so many of his Legion. He did not care; this was his duty. His blade would claim the lives of the Imperium's enemies until his blood joined the Xeno on the ground. Let it flow; his life was for the Imperium, and he would spend it to buy success.
The push failed, and a man died, but enough of him was recovered for the Empire's medical technologies to allow him to fight even in death. The Eldar, after many such failed endeavors, found the distractions that delayed humanity's reinforcements over, with the might of the Imperium's navy arriving. Despite their losses and efforts, the ancient pacts could not be fulfilled, and as Imperial forces arrived, the Xeno worldship retreated into the void. The world was taken, and the Imperium learned it was an Exodite world. The fighting had decimated the local population, and the Imperium, not one to leave resources untapped, planned to bring human settlers to the war-scarred planet.
The XVIIIth Legion had gained a battle-worn chapter, one whose circumstances echoed this small war's impact, resonating with the Legion as a whole.
[][Scars] Eldar Bane
The heroics led the Legion to learn much about the Xenos they faced, kindling a burning hatred. The Legion sharpened their blades and honed their skills, becoming adept at facing Eldar and other fast but fragile foes.
[][Scars] Requiem
The Legion is one of heroes, relics, and memories. Each Legionary meticulously maintains their gear; when one falls, reclaiming their personal relic is as critical as retrieving the gene-seed. This culture keeps the Legion smaller than it could be, but each Astartes wields a masterwork, and each champion bears the weight of ages.
[][Scars] Mortium
Many died, far more than should have against such a foe, revealing a weakness in the Legion. Or perhaps the Legion draws strength from the dead. Each Legionary is worth more in death than in life; each battle sees more casualties than other Legions would accept. But to the XVIIIth, each death is empowering, a moment when each Astartes shines the brightest.
Choice of the next legions:
[][Cloaked in Shadows and Mystery]
[][Lost and Forgotten]
[][Dusk and Night]
[][Blood and Scars]