• Published 17th Apr 2014
  • 1,109 Views, 22 Comments

A thousand redemptions for a thousand dead sons. - ThatRarityIsaSpy



65 standard years after the destruction of the realm of chaos, the Primarch Magnus the red makes one least gamble to destroy the Imperium. A motley band of misfits are all that stand in his way.

  • ...
2
 22
 1,109

Chapter 6

"Come on Lassies! Is that the best ya gits got?!" Tavish roared happily as he blasted a rubric marine into shreds of broken power armor with his grenade launcher. "Ach, that smarts!"

The Dark Angel glanced at the small wound that the glancing shot from the bolter made. A small injury that would make no difference no doubt. Grabbing his grenade launcher, he continued to rain down explosions upon the Thousand Son defensive positions.

"Come on mates! Have at them!"

The Thousand Sons were caught off guard by the massive wave of astartes screaming incomprehensible threats and/or warcries.

Any onlooker would have thought that Tavish must have had consumed a metric ton worth of alcohol when no one was looking when they factored in the screaming and yelling until a bunch of space marines, all from different chapters literally landed on The Thousand Sons. Any unintelligible screaming just grew louder as several sorcerers found that several vital and essential body parts weren't where they were supposed to be under any normal circumstance.

"Hohoho! This calls for a drink!"

"Not now Tavish." Fraken said over the vox. "Anytime but now. I am detecting movement all around you. The Thousand Sons are readying for a counterattack. Be prepared to receive them at any given time."

"Alright boyos! We got a bunch of those GITS incoming and we're not going to stop until they are BURNING IN HELL!"

"At your command brother."

"Oi Fraken! I want ALL the lads down here! Ya here me ya lazy git!"

"Reinforcements incoming."

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

While it would be redudant to say so, the Thousand Sons had no idea that their enemies on Asphodel would be a crazy blend of a mob rather than the somewhat crazy mob that would be the space wolves. As a result of their suprise and underpreparation, they were easily driven back in all their attempts to drive Fraken's men off the planet.

Fraken was the leader of a de facto company that really had no official name. They sometimes referred to themselves as a mob, an (unofficial) company of space marines or just "the crew".

"The crew" was composed mainly of outcasts from their chapters just like their leader.

It all started on what Fraken referred to as "his darkest day" where he met Tavish for the first time. The Dark Angel was in need, being trapped under enough rubble that it took two astartes to remove all the litter. After much careful work, Fraken was able to pull the trapped space marine out and not surprisingly, the two became fast friends.

Fraken was by the standards of his chapter, an outcast as well. He seldom drank, was quiet by comparision and had an odd interest in suits, something which earned him the ridicule of many of his battle brothers. Even now.

Having lost his pack prior to saving Tavish, the two began to wander across the Imperium to do anything they pleased. The only reason they weren't branded renegades was due to their contribution of taking up the most perilous missions offered to them. This earned the respect of many who were similar to them and the grudging respect of others who viewed their ways as "unorthodox" or worse yet, "heretical".

Given time, their numbers swelled. It wasn't long before Fraken found himself at the command of over a hundred astartes, all hailing from different chapters.

Soon, it became clear that organization had to be done out. The crew supplied itself with gifts from other chapters or whatever they could get their hands on. The three techmarines within the crew did their best in making sure that their well armed mob stayed as a well armed mob. The two apothecaries had been more than just useful. They had kept the entire band of lunatics alive for almost eighty years. Eighty years without a single death. That was a great feat.


Within the ranks of Fraken's men, were probably some of the most mentally unstable astartes in the entire galaxy that didn't encompass any chaos space marines. Lunatics? I guess. But you know what? Even with an entire ship full of crazies, they all managed to have fun. Why? Because... friendship. Everyone knew each other. Personally. As a result, one amongst the crew can name at least a dozen times of when one of his companions saved his life or made it change for the better. That was the bond between this mob of seemingly unstable lunatics with bolters and chainswords.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________

"The space wolves have begun to overrun almost all our defensive positions. My estimate is that we can only hold them off for three more days."

"All the time I need." Magnus said as he tapped his fingers as if he was impatient. "Give me your opinion. What do you think will happen once we destabilize The Emperor's webway?"

"I actually don't know."

"Please. Take a guess."

"I don't know."

"Well. It's a good thing I am here for you." Magnus said rolling his eye. "Imagine this. Infinite upon infinite creatures of unimaginable savagery unleashed upon key worlds. Terra. Luna. Mars. Imagine those planets, key to the imperium, being invaded by those creatures."

"It'd be glorious."

"Indeed my friend. And you know what else? The Imperium has gotten better since the last century. Why? Because The Emperor was able to manage things again. Imagine what if... he is once again trapped on his throne? Dedicating almost all his energies back into keeping those warp beasts from tearing his Imperium apart? Sure... it may not be as good as we hope. Since he can still speak though he'll have quite the trouble ruling but it certainly will undo many of the things he was able to fix. That will be our victory. And you know what? The Tyranids. The Orks. The Necrons. They'll finish the rest."

"You are shrewd one sire."

"Indeed."