Jornath: The Eyes of Oil

He ran, Helica and Thumas just ahead of him, as the staccato bursts of a hundred guns turned the air about his company into a humming chorus of supersonic metal slugs. Ducking as a sinister hiss tore the air just below his right ear, he stumbled in his stride, looking down to right his footing and double-check that his webbing still remained free of any bullet holes.  He glanced back towards Helica and Thumas, just climbing over the first scrap metal barricades at the top of the defilade, Thumas using the las-shot corpse of a freshly slain greenskin as leverage to vault atop the obstacle, Helica climbing over a pile of tires and haphazardly piled wooden slats.  In the distance, the looming silhouette of the immobilized Ork Superheavy Landfortress sat, like some sort of great reptilian beast from prehistory forged of bolted sheet metal and roughshod mechanisms of pig iron.

He vaulted over the tires, following after Helica's route, the idea of touching one of the beasts sickened him greatly. As he overcame the barricade he lost his footing on the far side, tripping and rolling into a trench behind the defilade, he struggled to right himself in the dust, choking on hungry mouthfuls of dirt clogged air as he fought to regain control of himself and continue the charge.  As he clambered to his feet he saw Thumas torn in two by fat orkish slugger fire, and collapse back into the trench trailed by an arc of bright crimson.

The halves of Thumas's body were quickly followed by the form of Helica, diving back into the trench before turning and pouring out a torrent of lasgun fire. She turned to him, wild-eyed with terror and adrenaline in equal measure. She shouted "ORKS!" though the words were entirely drowned out by the sounds of battle around them.  But the warning was no use, the alien monsters were already on them, a half dozen brutish greenskinned savages, armed with an assortment of cleavers and pistols. Helica's skull was split open like a ripe fruit by the butchering cleaver of the first Ork into the trench,  he brought his lasgun up, emptying the clip into the killers bellowing face. The rifle vibrated in his hand until it clicked empty and he dropped the gun, there was no time to reload, he looking down and pulled his combat knife, looking back up just in time to see the flash of an orkish pistol moments before the stubby round smashed directly into his....


Bisckell Eckrad opened his augmetic eye with a whirring click, and let out a pent up breath. He continued to look up at the massive painting of the Orkish warrior, done in the late Baroque stylings of Thyssian Caltomore, with its overly dramatic lighting and its emphasis on the beasts piercing red eyes, done to draw attention to the feral soullessness of one of mankind's oldest and most barbaric of enemies. His sensibilities as an officer told him that it was well executed, and a particularly good rendition with all the phlegm and drama any wealthy patron of the arts might look for in such a piece. But the old soldier in him shuddered inwardly and wished to light the priceless work aflame.

He was awakened from his introspection by the sharp tapping of boots against the lacquered oak of the Command Leviathans floor, turning he saw a middle-aged man with the pale complexion indicative of someone who spent much of their time aboard a starship, he was dressed in the starchy pressed uniform of General Mutenfur's Tactica Staff.

"Admiring the piece?" Began the man in an arched slightly amused voice, raising one black eyebrow slightly in a mirror to a faint smirk crawling up one of his angular cheeks.

"Oh. Yes, quite a stirring thing." Eckrad replied, not quite as confidently as he would have liked.

"Yes" the man crooned, coming to a halt and arching his head up at the Orks piercing gaze.
 "The Lord General had it commissioned after Vilhoffen. The A. G. took a bit of a pounding but the lads pulled through just like always." With that statement, the smirk and its attendant eyebrow dropped., though the man maintained an air of self-assured arrogance.

"Indeed. The Greenskin is a particular menace, difficult to root out wherever they are found" Eckrad replied, finally finding his stride again.

"Oh yes. You Jornathii had a bit of a scrap with the greenies from what I remember?" the man said, still staring up at the painting. That sent an instinctual twinge of irritation through Eckrad, he would hardly classify a system-wide multi-generation conflict involving dozens of Astartes Chapters and Knight households as a "little scrap" but still, he was here to make a good impression and diplomacy was paramount in these instances.

" Yes a bit of one." He replied, hiding his annoyance behind a broad smile.

" I thought that was the case. Either, or, let's say we cut to the quick, shall we. I am Brigadier Iwa Fariq, a member of General Mutenfur's personal staff. The General is ready to discuss your unit's deployments with you." The man brought his gaze back down from the painting and back to Eckard, the eyebrow and smirk returning along with it.

"Very Good, I am ready to attend him directly," Eckrad replied, maintaining his smile all the while.

"Right this way," Fariq said, turning back the way he had entered and begun clicking off across the lacquered floor again,  before stopping after a moment and turning back to face Eckrad, all smirks and raised eyebrows forgotten.

"By the By, let me be the first of the Senior Command Staff to welcome you and your troopers to Devos IV, Regent General" he said, in an altogether more sincere tone, and began walking towards the exit.  Eckrad took one more look at the painting, with its burning red eyes, the echos of a planet's worth of fallen heroes swimming in his mind. And turned to follow Fariq from the chamber.

Thanks for reading!  This post was a part of an ongoing narrative campaign, in the "living setting" of Jornath. For more information about Jornath as a setting, including units, missions, and posts from other Jornath bloggers be sure to click on the Jornath [40k] tab at the top of this page for an up to date list of all posts.

-Your Favorite Madman-

Jornath: Thine Gleaming Spear Doth Thrust

+++ Bridge of System Monitor Vessel "Saran's Farewell" +++
+++ High Anchor Above Ankou +++


Lugon gripped tightly to the railing encircling his command dias at the center of the ship's bridge as another barrage of ork fire hammered into the hull. Sparks showered out from some vital system above him, the rain of fire accompanied by the flickering of cogitator screens and the distant screaming of ratings.

"STATUS" he bellowed to Defense Officer Hadris.

"Crash Teams deployed to Decks 20-24, sections open to vacuum along Enginarium 1 and 3, Ignatius Fury is listing hard and burning, Mortis Nobilum reports they are moving to engage." reported the thickly bearded officer in the clipped cadence of the navy.

"Damnable Greenskins" Lugon hissed under his breath, the fleet had slammed into the aliens' cursory forces above Ankou's capital, Linces Hive and as was to be expected the xenos had returned the engagement with gusto, but what gusto it was. He had fought pirates in the rim worlds with the System fleet, tenacious and cutthroat men, gripped with desperation and a wealth of ill-gotten weaponry. They had been close run times, but this was something new altogether, pirates had a quantifiable boundary for violence and would surrender given enough void torpedos and lance battery strikes, but orks?  Of the three dozen vessels above Linces Hive, only 4 still remained, outnumbered ten to one by the massed ships of the Imperial Navy, Adeptus Astartes, and Ark Mechanicus, the ork juggernaughts had blazed away in all directions with a blizzard of fire of such magnitude that it was nearly impossible to tell where the spotting fires of damage ended and the white glow of gun batteries began. He furrowed his brow, and stared at the flickering hololithic display on his dias, many of the system fleet vessels, which had been in the vanguard, were already limping out of the immediate danger posed by the alien ships. The Mortis Nobilum a strike cruiser from the Imperial Dragoons chapter had moved to their support and was hammering the Ork Kroozer currently firing upon the ship. He closed his eyes and slowly breathed in the smoke-stained air, before making the most difficult decision of his life.

"Bring us around again, prepare the gun crews for another run in!" He declared to the bridge crew sternly. The three dozen officers sat in shocked silence, their terrified, wide-eyed faces, soaked with sweat and ash, looked like a sardonic parroting of the Ork's themselves in the green glow of their screens. After a short pause, the Helmsman, Tenric Cessaire, got to his feet, straightened his jacket and in a shaky voice addressed Lugon.

"Sire, prow shielding is faltering, we are venting atmosphere in multiple places, We may not endure another attack run. I urge you, please for the good of the crew, allow us to return to the second line, allow us to preserve the ship!" finished Cessaire.  The ship rocked again, more gently this time, as a torrent of small bore missiles glanced off the hull, only serving to strengthen the helmsman's argument as far as the rest of the bridge crew was concerned.

"The Emperor's Angels are present on the field, and whats more have come directly to our aid. I will not embarrass the system fleet by abandoning them. Nor will I turn tail and run while an alien vessel still sits polluting Jornathii Space. We will go forward, my decision is final Cessaire.  Full speed ahead." He stated, as calmly and in as commanding a voice as he could manage as he suppressed the fear rising inside him.

"Aye Sir." Cessaire replied raggedly, sitting back down at his station, he engaged what power could still be nursed from the surviving engines and the Sarans Farewell began its approach to firing range once more. As the ship powered its way forward, Lugon watched as the final few layers of prow shielding were torn away by the weight of the alien's fire. He barely heard Hadris' panicked reports of hull integrity,  he continued to stare intensely at his hololithic display, the Mortis Nobilum was just entering into its broadside sweep. The Ork vessel had taken a beating, regardless of its ferocious lashing out, it was close to death, its crude flickering void shield cast a crackling net of orange light across its hull. But the many guttering fires across its breadth were evidence enough that it was beginning to falter. If Lugon had estimated things properly, and he was bargaining everything that he had, the combined broadside of both his ship and that of the Mortis Nobilum would be just the thing to overwhelm the Ork shielding and crack the berzerk kroozer once and for all.  He watched transfixed at the display, as the icon of the ship moved closer, and closer to the pale yellow circle surrounding the marker for the alien ship. Never in all his life had he thought that a handful of holographic polygons could absorb him so completely, harnessing an impossible potential for hope and dread in equal parts. When finally they fell within the encompassment of that yellow circle, he screamed out his order.

"FIRE AT WILL"

He had yelled the words with such a great strain that he could feel the faint wet tang of blood and mucus in his throat, even with that effort though, they had almost been drowned out by the sure cacophony of the bridge as the ship groaned like some great dying beast, its frame melting from the heat of massed laser weapons fire and cascades of torpedo hits buckling across the whole of the ships starboard side. Power failed totally on the bridge then, only emergency life support still functioned, and even that was stammering. The sound and light and violence were at once replaced by an eerie tomb-like silence for a moment before the crackling sound of fires and the groaning choir of wounded men drifted in.

Seconds past, filled only by piteous cries and the dancing light of electric fires. Seconds gave way to minutes, filled with more of the same. The creeping dawn of excited hope began to claw its way up through Lugon's stomach and scratchy throat. The power flickered back for an instant, before dying once more, but it had been enough for him to see what he needed. The yellow circle was gone, gone because there was no more need to measure proximity to a target that did not exist.

He was beside himself with relief, he slumped down to the deck next to the hololith displayer and smiled.

"Jornathii Vendratus, you green bastards" he rasped to no one in particular.

Jornath: A Jarl's Defiance and Other Tales

Col. Reynolds 2nd Jornathi Advisory Battalion. Report of Actions.

Under guidance of The Mortifactors Command staff, as well as suggestions from Tactica Command Ultramar.

Guffmans Platz Army Group has begun Operation: Remits Maw. The operation would be spearheaded by Jarl Mondrix, freshly out of hospital, and newly awarded the Crux Dominus Centurion. The Operation would be targeting the largest concentration of Orks in the Ctre Valley, north of the Firebase position.

While initial engagements went well, the nature of the terrain and the tendency for the Blood Axe Clan of Orks towards ambush has meant that resupplying forward units has become difficult and large sections of the task force are being surrounded and cut off from reinforcement.

Mondrix's force is currently pinned down and surrounded by the Xenos, and while they have slaughtered all the aliens that have assailed their location, they have taken multiple losses, and their supplies run low. Their situation is relatively indicative of most units involved in the operation,

While it would be suitable for us to allow the Orks to waste themselves on our guns, The heavy fighting is attracting massive migrations of Ork Warriors southwards from their crash site.

I will send a mission dockett soon with taskings for any local Imperial forces, that will allow us to have an easier time effecting a breakout.

+++END TRANSMISSION+++

Outcome: While the battle escalated quickly, and Orks got very close many times to overrunning the Guard units, the Xenos were foruntately repulsed as they approached,  despite losing both Sentinels, and dozens of men, the heavy weapons and officers of the Company, especially Jarl Mondix, proved essential to victory. allowing for the unit to successfully withdraw south.  

Captian Tömörbaatar, 2nd Company initial report of the situation on Jornath.

Reports of the Blood Axes attacking a nearby power generator grid had me leading a small dispatch to investigate and engage is necessary. Only myself returned unharmed. The aggression of Orks here is escalating, reinforcements are greatly needed.

Outcome: A battle I did not personally participate in, but one in which no other Jornath bloggers were present, that happened around the same time as the above engagement.  This saw a tactical squad and captain from the White Scars 2nd company, tangling with Blood Axes in a combat patrol situation, as part of the actions to draw off Orks swarming the Imperial troops in the Ctre Valley.   The marines were beaten down heavily. and forced to withdraw.

Lastly, we have an engagement that IS document on another Jornathi Bloggers site, so i'll drop you a few pictures, and a link. All these engagements occurred late may, early June of last year.

Sons of Taurus: Jornath: Road Rage

Grave For Angels. (15mm Sci-fi)

Why they called this hell-hole Angelshearth was beyond him. It may have been known for its hospitality and its cuisine before the Rim Wars; But that was almost a century ago, and all that went away after those commie Volochek's took charge.

 More of a Grave than a hearth now... he thought   A place where all the goodness, and hope of a vibrant colonial age is lost.

 The Angels of this place are dead.
  We Killed them.

-Major Kemmnis  CMI 526th Shock Infantry Platoon.
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The Game Group has returned to 15mm Sci-fi with a furious vengeance.  This time the conflict flashpoint, is a world called "Angelshearth"  the sight of multiple wars between myself (The Eisenhorn Conclave) and the Volochek Respublik ( Chris McCollumn, from Fabricators Workbench) over its pivotal location in the shipping lanes, mineral assets and to prove our upstart border empire is better than the others.

Its marshy, and the sporadic mobile warfare necessitates the use of barges and naval craft by the Conclave, in order to move bodies of troops through the difficult, often waterlogged terrain, to various slum villages and cities. 

Once festive and well maintained corporate holdings, have decayed and turned into slum cities.

Under the cover of the Volo-Conclave Wars for the planet other forces, have descended to Angelshearth. The Trans-Humanist commune, (played by Chris from Sippin' on Paint Water) utilizing their advanced technology and tactics, have infiltrated the worlds underbelly. Eager to deliver their message of a universal collective.

We've tried PMC 2640, and are planning on trying Tomorrows War soon.  Other GGoP members are tooling up armies to play in the setting as well,  We have already played a few games on Angelshearth, and its been engaging as most have sizable painted and converted forces, that we have yet to see hit the tabletop more than a few times.  We have a wealth of background material and army fluff for everything, it pains me not to share it all here. but it might be unmanageable. 

Regardless, i will posting the engagements im able to record, and tell you as many stories as i possibly can!

The Story of Westarc (Part 3)

Work and excitement carried Westarc through the first week on planet 68, with a record zero fatalities by suicide. The entire vessel was abuzz with talk of settling, and the manufacturing plant aboard ship was being readied for the construction of suitable human dwelling. Planetside, Explorateur teams scouring the city, venturing farther and farther for clues about the past civilization them found themselves among.  Hope was in the air, but it was but a momentary perfume in the ever hanging cloud of doubts.

[Planetfall +6]
In the shadowy nighttime hours,  PFC LaCroix of the étoiles Explorateur reported a " Curious localized spike in radiation, which disabled his instruments and drained the battery life from his Pulsar Rig."   An immediate science team investigation yielded no source or cause for the anomaly.

[Planetfall +7]
Later in the day, just before dusk call-in,  étoiles Explorateur Wayteam 2  also records the anomaly. This time, as before all team members lost complete Pulsar Rig battery backups, and instrument functionality.  Upon their arrival to the LZ,  Wayteam 2  adamantly reported movement in the ruins, prior to the spike.    all Day 8 patrols cancelled.

[Planetfall +10]
Patrols resume, after several days with no spike reported. When Mid-day an enormous spike interrupted comms between the LZ and Westarc Terraform Command for thirty minutes, prompting the removal of non vital personnel from the planet.  All patrols are again cancelled until, the Science Team could learn the source of the anomalies.

[Planetfall +11]
At 10:30 (Earth Measured Time) in the evening, communications between the LZ and West Arc, again failed. This time however,  they never returned.
After two hours had passed, rescue units were sent to check on the LZ.

[ Planetfall +12]
The following are images recorded from the ground in the early morning hours of the Twelfth Day.

 One thing was clear in those confusing times. LZ  humanité.  and all its inhabitants had been lost...
But to whom. Or to what?     That was still very much to be determined

To Be Continued...