Good morning folks.
Over the next 5 days leading up to The Auctorian Conquest campaign weekend, hosted by Leicester Sabres, I will be posting the background text I co-wrote with the GM.
If you want to get involved, head over to the Facebook Event Page here!
But not before you read this, the background for the Imperial forces;
The Councillors' Chamber on Auctoria Major was located in the Governor's Palace, some 50 Km from the main Astropathic choir in the Basilica of Dreams. The grand building had a singular purpose; its epic proportions designed to impress and intimidate any who might challenge the will of the Council on the sector capital. It certainly achieved this goal. The Council was founded when the sector was established over ten thousands of years ago. Originally a democratic leadership, each council member was elected from their own world to contribute to the running of the region. Time, however, is a disease and over the ages the Council became idle in its goals. Decrepit, inbred and sick with their disgusting vices, the Council is as corrupt a leadership as they come.
Many a time, the Inquisition investigated the vile leeches, often led by the Ordos Hereticus. Each time however, they were acquitted of any locally accused heresy. Indeed, though they may be dishonest and hateful creatures, all evidence points to them still being loyal followers of the God-Emperor. They ensure the tithes owed by their worlds to the Administratum are diligently paid, whilst hording as many resources as they can and leaving the wretched masses in the hives to starve.
Epistolary Amadeus stood in the centre of the audience chamber within the Governor’s Palace, like a gleaming silver statue. This was not the first time he sought the Council and he was sure it would not be the last. These selfish beings were terrible examples of humanity and rarely relinquished enough control to allow him and his battle brothers to perform their duties effectively. Though he could wrest control from them easily enough, at the point of his Halberd if needs be, Amadeus's instinct told him that politics would be his keenest weapon in the coming war. His last audience with the Council had been with Inquisitor Harvan at his side, investigating possible Chaos artefacts potentially hidden on Auctoria. The Councillors had waved the Inquisitor away, stopping just short of hindering his inquiries. The Emperor's servant died a few weeks later of a heart attack, his case never closed. It was not normally Amadeus’s lot to meddle in sector politics; he was a simple blade to be wielded by the Inquisition. Indeed, his stature as a Grey Knight would normally warrant utmost secrecy. However the Councillors' arrogance was so astounding that they were quick to accept a silver-armoured Astartes was placed at their disposal. Normal protocols would dictate the execution of the Council; with the current situation, the disruption it would cause would be too great. The threat of invasion was growing too strong.
The Council entered the room, hooded, in a short parade of wheezing, overfed flesh, waddling to surround the Grey Knight in a circle of high-backed seats. Both the seats and the pompous display were designed to intimidate visiting dignitaries, but of course had no affect on the Emperor's warrior.
“We are very busy, Space Marine. Your very presence is a delay we cannot afford in our routines so please be quick to state your intent.” Matter of fact and straight to the point: All part of the politics that surrounds the council. Amadeus cleared his throat and began.
“My Lords, it has reached my attention that an Invasion is..."
“We have read your pre-report, Space Marine. The powers of Chaos have not been seen this far from the Eye in Millennia, you think somehow that they would be here now?” Lord Crellun was the speaker, a particularly obese individual whose chins, all four of them, wobbled long after his jaw had stopped moving, shining with a mix of spittle and grease from countless meals. His unrepentant attitude clear from the smile on his face, mixed with the joy of holding such a physically powerful individual under the heal of his palm.
The librarian took a deep breath and concentrated his mind; he could sense the consciousness of the old men surrounding him. Their minds selfish and sluggish in nature. Not one of them willing to take a threat to the system seriously. No, the only possible threats they could conceive were those to their power.
"My battle-brothers have foreseen it. I have foreseen it. In the evidence I have presented to you in my repo..."
“Do you really think the babblings of a witch are worthy testament?” Shouted another councillor from behind the Marine, a thin and reedy man whose skin hung from his frame like a wet rag. His voice matched his appearance, but still managed to carry authority, like a leaf carried of a babbling stream. The Librarians fury began to rise.
“You are all blinded by your own greed!” Amadeus’s voice cracked like thunder, rather than a leaf, his authority was a forest carried on a hurricane.
“You forget yourself, Librarian," Crellun riposted, emphasizing the bastardisation of Amadeus's rank in a vain attempt to mask his fear of the psyker, "you are here, simply, to serve us. You throw around these threats to cause malcontent! You would have us dispose of our armies for a false war and take power for yourself.”
“I have no desire rule this or any other sector.”
A chorus of laughter surrounded the chamber. “We have heard that one before. If you want to wage a war on these 'supposed' invaders, you will have to shoulder the defeat yourself. If the legends are true of your kind, you should find it no problem." Another speaker, this time Lord Baekre. His appearance belied his age, with centuries' worth of rejuvenant treatments giving him the pallor and frame of a man in his fifth decade, Terran Standard. The eyes though, their cybernetic nature betrayed by a greenish glow, were cold as steel and as ancient as any in the room.
Baekre's comments roused further cackles of laughter, all at the expense of the Astartes in the midst of the Council. Their insults did not raise Amadeus’s anger, though their unwillingness to cooperate had pushed him to the edge and he activated his armour's transponder signal.
“I will defeat them, with or without your help.”
The laughter was growing out of control. Councillors banged their fists on the arms of their antiquated thrones as they spat slurs of foolish pride and overconfidence at the Grey Knight. Oh, how it would be so easy to destroy them all, here and now, thought the Epistolary. Just a flick of his wrist could see his Storm Bolter unleash a plethora of mass reactive rounds in to the core of each of these contemptible creatures. Centring his humours, Amadeus held short of cleaving their soles from their mortal forms. Eventually, one Councillor, Lord Edrak, managed to control himself long enough to speak.
“With what army? You alone have no chance, surely?”
A thunder clap reverberated throughout the chamber, accompanied by snakes of ice-white lightning arcing around the occupants of the room. 50 Grey Knight Space Marines teleported directly into the midst of the Council. Storm Bolters covered every inch of the chamber. With screeches of panic, the Councillors cowered; some voiding their bowels and bladders, others breaking down in tears as they realised they were caught without their body guards. A few tried to run for the doors, their escape cut off by hulking Terminators that materialized in their path.
“By Order of the Emperor! I, Librarian Engart Amadeus of the Grey Knights, am taking control of the defence of this World and this Sector. Any who disagree will be executed, do I make myself clear?"
The councillors began to sob uncontrollably as the true nature of their supposed underling was made apparent. They tried to fight the Marines imprisoning them, though horrifically outmatched. The Grey Knights, however, simply held their ground; refusing to kill or strike the Councillors. Despite their decrepit souls and languid bodies, they had to survive; to keep the governance stable, to keep the sector in Imperial hands.
One Councillor quietly drew an ornate Las Pistol from the folds of his voluminous robes, shakily sighting the weapon at the Epistolary's head, determined to defend the life he loved; his own. With a bestial snarl born of the rage built up at this intrusion, Lord Edrak pulled at the spoon trigger. The shot hit cleanly, but did little more than scorch the otherwise pristine, artificer-wrought armour of the Grey Knight commander. Edrak's snarl became a yelp as he was hauled off his feet, dropping the pistol out of shock. As he dangled helplessly from the Terminator's vice-like grip, Amadeus took carefully paced steps towards him, drawing the Force Halberd from its scabbard on his back. The Librarian would not punish the entire Council; only a singular example would be necessary.
Over the next 5 days leading up to The Auctorian Conquest campaign weekend, hosted by Leicester Sabres, I will be posting the background text I co-wrote with the GM.
If you want to get involved, head over to the Facebook Event Page here!
But not before you read this, the background for the Imperial forces;
The Councillors' Chamber on Auctoria Major was located in the Governor's Palace, some 50 Km from the main Astropathic choir in the Basilica of Dreams. The grand building had a singular purpose; its epic proportions designed to impress and intimidate any who might challenge the will of the Council on the sector capital. It certainly achieved this goal. The Council was founded when the sector was established over ten thousands of years ago. Originally a democratic leadership, each council member was elected from their own world to contribute to the running of the region. Time, however, is a disease and over the ages the Council became idle in its goals. Decrepit, inbred and sick with their disgusting vices, the Council is as corrupt a leadership as they come.
Many a time, the Inquisition investigated the vile leeches, often led by the Ordos Hereticus. Each time however, they were acquitted of any locally accused heresy. Indeed, though they may be dishonest and hateful creatures, all evidence points to them still being loyal followers of the God-Emperor. They ensure the tithes owed by their worlds to the Administratum are diligently paid, whilst hording as many resources as they can and leaving the wretched masses in the hives to starve.
Epistolary Amadeus stood in the centre of the audience chamber within the Governor’s Palace, like a gleaming silver statue. This was not the first time he sought the Council and he was sure it would not be the last. These selfish beings were terrible examples of humanity and rarely relinquished enough control to allow him and his battle brothers to perform their duties effectively. Though he could wrest control from them easily enough, at the point of his Halberd if needs be, Amadeus's instinct told him that politics would be his keenest weapon in the coming war. His last audience with the Council had been with Inquisitor Harvan at his side, investigating possible Chaos artefacts potentially hidden on Auctoria. The Councillors had waved the Inquisitor away, stopping just short of hindering his inquiries. The Emperor's servant died a few weeks later of a heart attack, his case never closed. It was not normally Amadeus’s lot to meddle in sector politics; he was a simple blade to be wielded by the Inquisition. Indeed, his stature as a Grey Knight would normally warrant utmost secrecy. However the Councillors' arrogance was so astounding that they were quick to accept a silver-armoured Astartes was placed at their disposal. Normal protocols would dictate the execution of the Council; with the current situation, the disruption it would cause would be too great. The threat of invasion was growing too strong.
The Council entered the room, hooded, in a short parade of wheezing, overfed flesh, waddling to surround the Grey Knight in a circle of high-backed seats. Both the seats and the pompous display were designed to intimidate visiting dignitaries, but of course had no affect on the Emperor's warrior.
“We are very busy, Space Marine. Your very presence is a delay we cannot afford in our routines so please be quick to state your intent.” Matter of fact and straight to the point: All part of the politics that surrounds the council. Amadeus cleared his throat and began.
“My Lords, it has reached my attention that an Invasion is..."
“We have read your pre-report, Space Marine. The powers of Chaos have not been seen this far from the Eye in Millennia, you think somehow that they would be here now?” Lord Crellun was the speaker, a particularly obese individual whose chins, all four of them, wobbled long after his jaw had stopped moving, shining with a mix of spittle and grease from countless meals. His unrepentant attitude clear from the smile on his face, mixed with the joy of holding such a physically powerful individual under the heal of his palm.
The librarian took a deep breath and concentrated his mind; he could sense the consciousness of the old men surrounding him. Their minds selfish and sluggish in nature. Not one of them willing to take a threat to the system seriously. No, the only possible threats they could conceive were those to their power.
"My battle-brothers have foreseen it. I have foreseen it. In the evidence I have presented to you in my repo..."
“Do you really think the babblings of a witch are worthy testament?” Shouted another councillor from behind the Marine, a thin and reedy man whose skin hung from his frame like a wet rag. His voice matched his appearance, but still managed to carry authority, like a leaf carried of a babbling stream. The Librarians fury began to rise.
“You are all blinded by your own greed!” Amadeus’s voice cracked like thunder, rather than a leaf, his authority was a forest carried on a hurricane.
“You forget yourself, Librarian," Crellun riposted, emphasizing the bastardisation of Amadeus's rank in a vain attempt to mask his fear of the psyker, "you are here, simply, to serve us. You throw around these threats to cause malcontent! You would have us dispose of our armies for a false war and take power for yourself.”
“I have no desire rule this or any other sector.”
A chorus of laughter surrounded the chamber. “We have heard that one before. If you want to wage a war on these 'supposed' invaders, you will have to shoulder the defeat yourself. If the legends are true of your kind, you should find it no problem." Another speaker, this time Lord Baekre. His appearance belied his age, with centuries' worth of rejuvenant treatments giving him the pallor and frame of a man in his fifth decade, Terran Standard. The eyes though, their cybernetic nature betrayed by a greenish glow, were cold as steel and as ancient as any in the room.
Baekre's comments roused further cackles of laughter, all at the expense of the Astartes in the midst of the Council. Their insults did not raise Amadeus’s anger, though their unwillingness to cooperate had pushed him to the edge and he activated his armour's transponder signal.
“I will defeat them, with or without your help.”
The laughter was growing out of control. Councillors banged their fists on the arms of their antiquated thrones as they spat slurs of foolish pride and overconfidence at the Grey Knight. Oh, how it would be so easy to destroy them all, here and now, thought the Epistolary. Just a flick of his wrist could see his Storm Bolter unleash a plethora of mass reactive rounds in to the core of each of these contemptible creatures. Centring his humours, Amadeus held short of cleaving their soles from their mortal forms. Eventually, one Councillor, Lord Edrak, managed to control himself long enough to speak.
“With what army? You alone have no chance, surely?”
A thunder clap reverberated throughout the chamber, accompanied by snakes of ice-white lightning arcing around the occupants of the room. 50 Grey Knight Space Marines teleported directly into the midst of the Council. Storm Bolters covered every inch of the chamber. With screeches of panic, the Councillors cowered; some voiding their bowels and bladders, others breaking down in tears as they realised they were caught without their body guards. A few tried to run for the doors, their escape cut off by hulking Terminators that materialized in their path.
“By Order of the Emperor! I, Librarian Engart Amadeus of the Grey Knights, am taking control of the defence of this World and this Sector. Any who disagree will be executed, do I make myself clear?"
The councillors began to sob uncontrollably as the true nature of their supposed underling was made apparent. They tried to fight the Marines imprisoning them, though horrifically outmatched. The Grey Knights, however, simply held their ground; refusing to kill or strike the Councillors. Despite their decrepit souls and languid bodies, they had to survive; to keep the governance stable, to keep the sector in Imperial hands.
One Councillor quietly drew an ornate Las Pistol from the folds of his voluminous robes, shakily sighting the weapon at the Epistolary's head, determined to defend the life he loved; his own. With a bestial snarl born of the rage built up at this intrusion, Lord Edrak pulled at the spoon trigger. The shot hit cleanly, but did little more than scorch the otherwise pristine, artificer-wrought armour of the Grey Knight commander. Edrak's snarl became a yelp as he was hauled off his feet, dropping the pistol out of shock. As he dangled helplessly from the Terminator's vice-like grip, Amadeus took carefully paced steps towards him, drawing the Force Halberd from its scabbard on his back. The Librarian would not punish the entire Council; only a singular example would be necessary.
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