Warpony 40k

by Luckythebrony

Meet the Mareines

Segmentum Celest, Pegusian Gate

Pegusa Capital City, Star Port Creed

0704 Imperial Standard

The Thunderhawk, Sweet Apple, began its decent to planet’s surface, speeding through its atmospheres at break-neck speeds. The sun was rising and the horizon was lit up in a beautiful cascade of amethyst, pink, and splashes of orange. Down below, the city was a constellation of lights and majesty, as the capital started to come to life for the day ahead. The trademark zigzag street pattern of all Pegusian Cities, or ‘Kasr’s’ in the local low gothic, was a site to behold. From an architectural sense, it was a grand feet of modern Imperial engineering, and from a military standpoint, it turned the city into a death trap for any invader, forcing him to claim his prize block by bloody block. Vendors filled the market squares*, families sent their younglings to the local scholas, and Guard trainees in physical training gear, jogged laps around barracks while others ran through obstacle courses. But even the sparkling domes and gilded bell towers of the Equinarchy Cathedral where nothing to the shear, awe inspiring site, of Star Port Creed. The pilot was truly a master of her vocation as she weaved around the various ships clogging up the air space above one of Capital City’s largest star ports, like suckling’s competing for a prime position on the teat.

Gillimane sat on the turret of his Lemare Russ (which he learned was named ‘Lion of Pegusa’ after one of his monikers) and watched as the Thunderhawk began its decent to the landing pad. It came about so the ramp would drop in their direction, but instead of landing, the craft hovered about ten meters off the ground. The ramps locks disengaged and it began its slow decent. He watched as Bonelly and Heartstrings, as per his instructions, approached the hovering Sweet Apple, their uniforms flapping about them. They raised their hooves to their eyes to stave off the wind. The ramp reached the down position, and a blue power armored figure leapt from the ramp landing, not two meters from a very shocked Heartstrings and naturally stoic Bonnelly, the rockcrete of the pad cracking and trembling under the mare’s weight. Her helmed head was dipped low facing the ground. The shock was only made worse by a massive suite of black power armour wielding her Harmoina shaped maul, landing next to the last figure in that same manner. Four times in quick session this happened, two more in the blue armour of the chapter, only one you could see her face, if not barely, from under a magikster hood, and an Ivory armored mare, followed by a Scarlet armored one, with several mechendrites jutting from her back, projecting forward to absorb the worst of her fall. As the last Mareine descended, the Thunderhawk took off heading back to orbit and the Element waiting for it to return. When the Thunderhawk reared to take off, the Marines rose in perfect unison and stared straight at the Guard ponies their mantles, purity seals, and battle honors billowing in the after thrust of the Thunderhawk’s ascent.

They sure can make an awe inspirin’ entrance, Thought Gillimane. As the exhibition ended, he almost felt like clapping but didn’t want to ruin his own show, so he let the Mareines play right into his plans.

Looking into the red, unblinking eyes of the Mareines helmets, only Lyre had a dumbfounded expression across his face, while Bonelly held her characteristic neutrality. Gillimane sat on his turret, loving the entire spectacle. Bonelly reached a hoof up and closed Lyre’s ever slackening jaw for him, and then spoke to Mareine in front of her with a trifecta of ruby apples on her left pauldron.

‘I may assume you are Captain Applinia?’ Her voice was feminine and soft, but held an authoritativeness that made her seem much more imposing than her smaller stature suggested, especially when a Marestartes towered a good meter above the average pony. Lyre said nothing, he just continued to stare at the living goddess which stood before him in all their great, yet terrible, magnificence. The Mareine at the head of the group looked down at Bonelly.

‘You may assume all you wish mortal, but I would speak with Governor Redlord immediately as to ascertain the method in which we will defend this planet.’ Her vox grille made her voice cold and harsh and her speech would have made a normal pony feel belittled and unworthy. Bonelly, however, was no normal pony,

‘He regrets to inform you that he could meet you in person at this location, however if you come with us we will bring you to him.’ She motioned for them follow, as she turned around and took a hold of Lyre’s jacket in an attempt to drag him away. She was stopped however by another Mareine’s voice.

‘That is unacceptable!’ She shouted her armour was covered in gilding, and battle hounors and the front her helmet was two golden wings connecting in the center of the helm, where the normal vox grille was supposed to be. Her pauldron bore the marking of a rainbow colored lightning bolt, ‘This is Captain Applinia Jacqueline of The Ultramareines! The Emerald Angel of Corn V! No mortal makes her wait for them!!’ The resentment in her voice was vibrant, and moved she moved toward the Guard Officers hostilely, only to be stopped short by the extended hoof of her Captain. Her helmet turned to face her commander, whom seemed to be staring at the armored convoy near the back of the pad, intently. She lowered her hoof and moved past Bonelly, and the now cowering Lyre. The other Mareines stood perfectly still as their Captain approached the Lemare Russ, upon which was seated the eccentric Castellan. He stood on his hind legs and flourishing his hooves into the air.

‘Congratulations! You have found the stallion you sought!’ He placed his forehooves back down and hurdled down off the tank, to come almost face to face with the Mareine, though he still needed to look up slightly. Applinia stared down at him. It was obvious by her posture that she was not amused by his display.

‘I will not play games Governor.’ Applinia stated. It couldn’t be see it from under her helmet, but she observed him with a predatory glare. Taking a step closer to the Castellan, the tank crews took this as their queue, and the turrets of the convoy swung inward and leveled at the Mareine Captain. Lyre and Bonnelly’s jaws both dropped, that any mere mortal would threaten a Mareine in such a manner. Lyre turned quickly and saw none of the Mareines had moved a muscle. They just watched and waited with the alertness of attack dogs ready to be let loose from the leash.

‘Neither do I Captain. I asked for your aid and you agreed. Now, we play by my rules,’ He never let a single tell show, he was completely ready to give the order to fire, killing himself and the Mareine, ‘I will not have my people, or myself, talked down to Captain,’ his eyes wavered back and forth in a vain attempt to read the Captain’s helmet, ‘I am the Imperial authority here. My power was bestowed by the High Council of Equstria, and through them, The Empress herself. All I ask is the same respect my people have, and I will show you.’ Applinia remained silent for a moment. She reached up with her forehooves and released the seals on her helmet, pulling it off her head. She shook her mane out and looked down at Gillimane. Emeralds locked with molten metal and in a brief, unspoken exchange that only two warriors could have, all was forgiven and the terms where accepted.

‘Very well, Governor.’ Applinia did not like, or appreciate, the manner in which he felt he could speak to her, or that he could threaten them, but she admired his tenacity. The turrets resumed their normal frontwards positions.

‘I believe in our last conversation, I said you could call me Gillimane.’ He smiled slightly and extended his hoof. There was a moment of hesitation, and she returned the gesture though he could feel her shake was a little dainty; she was probably trying to avoid crushing his hoof with her superpony strength.

‘Very well Governor Gillimane.’ She released his hoof started off toward the convoy. Gillimane dropped his head and sighed in defeat. It was going to be a long war.

She was going to make them late. She always made them late. Scootia, Babalynia, and Apellbonaria stood by the chamber entrance and waited for their missing companion. All still wore their standard tunics, pants, and boots, but now over them they all had donned their chapter blue Scout Armour. The trademark of a Scout, their specialized armour was lighter and covered less than the standard Mareines power armour, consisting of a breast plate, pauldrons, vambraces, and shin guards, it was made of lighter ceramite and carapace hybrid. This lack of protection allowed a scout for a higher degree of stealth and mobility, which in a way was armour in and on itself. However what set Scout Squad Crusader apart from normal scouts, was their custom Cameleoline Cloaks, an absorbent piece of material that blended into any surrounding terrain by simply rubbing it with the terrain itself. All present where also carrying the same Boltpistol and combat knife, along with their respective primary weapons. Scootia had her Bolter slung around her back, her Boltpistol’s holster was left unclasped for easy access. Babalynia clutched her Bolter close to her as she stood on her hind legs leaning against the bulkhead, an intimidating Missile Launcher leaning next to her along with its pack of various rockets. Apellbonaria stood on the other side of the chamber entrance eyeing the corner. She knew Bellatrice would have to come around. “The Empress’ Whisper” slung across her back and her sister’s beloved war knife, strapped to her left flank, were the all the weapons she carried for this exercise. All Scouts bore the Company Marking of the Tenth, a white upwards point arrow with a roman numeral ten, on their right pauldron, but since they had not earned their combat-marks, their left remained bare.

Scootia groaned and looked at the chronometer built into her left vambrace, 0910:42 time was running short. Suddenly a panting, sweat covered, Bellatrice came barreling around the corner sliding on the deck plates crashing into a stack of storage bins as she did. Scootia and Apellbonaria trotted over to their comrade, sighing as their heads fell in embarrassment.

‘Thank you Sisters.’ Bellatrice said, as they pulled her out of the boxes and dust. Brushing herself off, Apellbonaria was glad to see Bellatrice had not forgotten any of her war gear and remained uniform to the rest of them, albeit her combat shotgun which took the place of the Bolter in her load out. Scootia scoffed, and turned to the entrance of the Simulation Hall. Punching the activation rune with her hoof, the door slid open and the Scouts entered. The inside the Hall was vast, so much so the Neophytes believed it could probably have housed a mighty god- machine of the great Titan Legio’s. They gawked in awe at the fully prepared simulation laid out before them; a bombed out ruined neighborhood of standard Imperial design. The truly most terrifying, yet magnificent thing, about the Imperium is its uninspiring uniformity. Even if a previous method existed before the Great Crusade of the Empress that was efficient, it was swiftly replaced with the standard rockcrete and cast iron of the Gothic Imperial style. Apellbonaria walked amongst these nameless ruins, drinking in there details. She knew once the chaos of battle began she would have little time to rely on her memory, but none the less, a moment of recognition could save you hours of bogged down urban firefights. As the Scouts approached the middle of the Hall, a familiar voice yelled out from above them.

‘Good Morning my little ponies!’ Cheertana had a mischievous grin on her face, and look that screamed, I’m going to buck your world up. She was riding a large platform attached to a massive robotic arm mounted to the hull. With her was an unnamed serf manning the platforms controls, though Apellbonaria was sure she had seen him before. Cheertana’s gaze drifted over to Bellatrice, their eyes locked and she knew she’d been caught. ‘Since Bellatrice almost made you all late today, she will go first,’ Scootia’s shoulders visibly sank and she groaned, ‘followed by Babalynia, Apellbonaria and we’ll end with Scootia. This will be the order for the three individual exercises. So Neophyte’s please mount the Observer with me.’ She motioned with a hoof to the empty space behind her. The neophyte’s except Bellatrice moved to their newly assigned positions and the Observation deck rose above the ruins. Bellatrice becoming a smaller speck amongst the rubble. ‘Now then our first exercise will be in...’ Cheertana pulled a level on the control lectern, ‘Stealth!’ The hall went black except for the eerie red glow of the emergency lights. Side compartments on the halls wall opened and heavily armed combat servitors rolled out into the ruins and took up their positions, scanning with motion detection lasers in pre designated sectors. ‘Make it from you current position to the end location without being seen and complete the exercise.’ Cheertana’s voice echoed out of vox hailers from all over the ceiling of the hall. ‘Begin!’ With her Sergeant’s permission Bellatrice pulled the hood of her Cloak over her head and rolled around in the dust. Within a few minutes she was gone from Apellbonaria’s sight even with her vantage point. Some fifty meters west of her starting position a servitor collapsed its life support tubes severed spraying ichor and lubricants on to the rockcrete. Apellbonaria smiled at her comrade’s achievement, trying to find Bellatrice was almost impossible but from her advantage point she could see the path she was heading on,

Good job Sister, you do the Crusaders proud, Apellbonaria thought as another servitor collapsed in a similar fashion as the first, “Let the enemies of Ponies fear the Judgment of the Righteous, for it is the Mareine and Her knife which are that Judgment.” She beamed as Bellatrice reaching the end point, pulled her hood off and pressed the control lectern, bringing the lights back online, and sending the servitors back to the lairs. Cheertana smirked as she projected a giant hololithic chronometer. Her time read fifteen minutes and thirty six seconds.

‘Good, Neophyte!’ She turned to Babalynia, ‘do better.’ And with that she lowered the observation deck to pick up Bellatrice and drop off Babalynia. Apellbonaria embraced her sister as she boarded. Both were practically overflowing with pride and exhilaration at her accomplishment. Apellbonaria whispered her praise as the deck rose again and the lights shut off,
‘You did fantastic Sister!’ She smiled at friend.

‘You’ll do much better,’ she was trying to force herself to be humble, ‘I mean with the “Whisper” you can overlook all the knife work.’ Apellbonaria shook her head in agreement, but she knew that she would be using her knife regardless. She looked back over and noticed the telltale signs of a Mareine Scout moving about the field. She licked her lips in anticipation soon it would be her turn. She had never been more prepared for anything else in her life than this moment. Her caught Babalynia as she pulled her hood back and pressed the completion rune.

‘Time, fifteen minutes thirty nine seconds, good but not good enough for a Mareine Neophyte!’ Cheertana’s voice boomed over the vox. The hall reset itself and the observation deck fell to pick up Babalynia and drop of Apellbonaria. She grinned devilishly at an astonished Bellatrice as she handed her “The Empress’ Whisper” and drew her sister’s knife. Dulling the blade with a mud made of dust from the hall and her own spittle pulled her hood up as the lights went out and she was bathed in red.

‘Let the enemies of Ponies fear the Judgment of the Righteous, for it is the Mareine and Her knife which are that Judgment.’ She whispered and set off into the city.