ENTRY BEGINS. MID-LATE 30TH MILLENNIUM. DAWN OF THE AGE OF THE IMPERIUM
The stars. Once they were beacons of hope for Mankind to look upon and dream of new worlds, new ideals and maybe even peace. A mere fraction of these stars had planets orbiting them and a further fraction of that had naturally inhabitable worlds.
This is what had made the Calipsian System special. Four worlds each with a naturally inhabitable climate for humans to live in, abundant in resources and the close proximity of all the planets to each other, made defending the system's core relatively easy. Each world was protected by a vast array of orbital, atmospherical and surface weaponry that decimated any foe who had come to try and take the strategic strong-point in the stars.
All of this was backed up by the massive fleets of the Eleventh Legiones Astartes force - The Apocalyptians, clad in glazed, void-black armour constructed of Adamantite and Plasteel plates encased in Ceremite. Every member of the Legion had their gauntlets coloured in a royal purple, representing their closeness to the Emperor's Children. Their Legion symbol was a claw of the same colour, with the sharp points dipped in blood red, trailing lines of viscera across a green-skin's ugly maw. They were a well known legion in the northern sectors of Mankind's territories, famous for their impossible combination of Space Wolf savagery and the decorum of the Emperor's Children. Together with the system's Imperial Navy and Guard garrisons, they had successfully defended the small sector of space for a millennia, without a single hostile laying foot, claw or tentacle upon one of its worlds.
That was until the Scarred Swords came. Calipsian IV had fallen under a tide of matte-green and bolter shells as the Second Legiones Astartes came to the system with only one goal:
To eradicate their brothers and cleanse the galaxy of the Chaos they'd fallen to.
They'd assembled one of the largest star fleets ever seen, for this was not a mission to restore compliance on a renegade world, it was one to destroy a powerful and fully armed fellow Astartes force and the star that they recruited from. A total of six thousand, five hundred and twenty eight war-ships had exited the Warp over Calipsian IV, not including the armada of Imperial Army landing vessels and smaller support ships that had accompanied the mass of ships between the lighter frigate classes and the mighty Battle-Barges. At the forefront of this fleet was the Scarred Swords' Flagship and mobile star fortress - The Excalibur. Thirty-six miles long from dagger-shaped prow to stern and twelve miles across at its widest point, between the massive stabilizer panels that jutted out from the ship's aft section while also being eighteen miles tall - from it's highest spires to its lowest antennae. It was bristling with weapons of all types, from simple macro cannons to powerful lancers and even a number of experimental Volcano Cannons. With a total of three bridges: one in the typical location of the forward aft section, one on the prow atop the bladed front and the third located at the base of the ship's rear section - The Excalibur would never be without a commander.
The Purging Fleet had taken only three months to take and destroy three of the four worlds in the system and was on its way to the core world of the Apocalyptian's home.
"Raigon" a low voice growled, to no one in particular. The voice belonged to the Primarch of the second legion - Furious Storm-Qrow, the Storm Blade. He was speaking not only of the large, blue orb dotted with flat, green continents before him-but also of his traitorous brother.
The planet Calipsian I had been renamed many years before, by The Emperor of Mankind himself, after the Primarch of the eleventh legion of astartes - Malar Raigon, who'd saved the world more times than could be counted from all kinds of threats. The savage Green-Skins, the self-righteous Eldar and even some rebellious colonists, if it could be named, Raigon had fought it off the Calipsian system. It was the memories of these great honours to his name that made Raigon's betrayal all the more painful for the Primarch of the Second Legion.
Qrow stood upon the main bridge of the Excalibur, in front of his golden command throne, clad in a scaled up version of the matte-emerald green power armour that was the Scarred Swords' primary colour. Every Astartes in the legion wore this colour proudly, alongside a secondary colour exclusive to their company within the legion. The First company had shining gold adorning their left greaves, the Sixth had glossed, blood-red right arms and the Tenth all had snow-white helms. It was this individuality within the legion that made them stand out against the more dull legions like the Death Guard and the Imperial fists, to whom the Swords had always been close.
The Purge fleet had now come into visual range of the last Apocalyptian fleet, at the forefront of which was the Hell Hound - Raigon's flagship. Despite being a Battle Barge, this fortress sized capital ship was minuscule in comparison to the Excalibur, it wasn't even as long as the Scarred Swords' flagship's prow was tall.
"Dragoon" Qrow looked to the Sixth company captain who stood next to the 'Master's-Table' holo-display in the centre of the ship's grand bridge. Ozonus Prowl, aka 'Dragoon', was one of the four company captains who acted as their Primarch's closest advisers and were some of the most recognised men in the Scarred Swords legion. Qrow had liked Horus' idea - of The Mournival - so he'd adopted it himself, and created The Beasts of the Storm. Four astartes named after legendary creatures, in service to him The Storm Blade.
Ozonus, the level-headed captain of the Sixth company, was one. The furious monster lizard, the wielder of the tornadoes and gales, Dragoon.
The next was the First company captain - Alatreon Zerith, aka Dranzer the burning phoenix with wings so sharp they could slice steel clean in two. The aggressive, Terminator Armour favouring, Astartes' foul temper was matched by only one other in the whole galaxy, Ezekiel Abaddon. However, unlike the leader of the Lunar Wolves' First company, Dranzer's anger was not out of a simple aggressive nature, but out of a fierce need to protect those who he considered important, which led to a tendency to jump straight to attacking an unknown force to avoid possible betrayal. This all originated from a rather traumatic experience during his infancy - the brutal killing of his entire clan at the hands of the 'so-called benevolent' Eldar and even after centuries of battle as an elite Astartes warrior, the wounds were still as fresh as they were on the day they were cut.
The First captain's quick temper was excellently countered by the third member of the Beasts. Dragoon's twin brother, Stratos Prowl's witty and light-hearted nature was the polar opposite to the hardened First Captain's.
Within the Legiones Astartes it was almost unheard of for both members of a set of biological twins to be chosen to become Space Marines, let alone have both of them survive the augmentation and harsh training that all initiates must pass to become full Astartes. This had solidified the blood brothers' relationship, bringing them incredibly close and if one were to fall or be injured, the other would be sent into a state of frenzied bloodlust and unstoppable fury. The light-hearted and joking captain of the Tenth company was the wall that stood between Qrow and Dranzer when their aggressive natures came at odds. He represented the fast and savage white tiger of the land, known as Driger. The title suited him, as when he stepped onto the battlefield he became consumed in a maddened bloodlust that proved dangerous for any moving object, alive or not, friend or foe, within his field of vision.
The final beast was the youngest of them, with only about a century of full Astartes-hood under his belt, Teostrum Yaol was considered a real prodigy within the legion. He captained the Eighth company of the Scarred Swords, wearing the company's black left gauntlet with pride. He'd earned the name Draciel, the guardian turtle of the oceans, after defending an orbital station for five days with only a small garrison of Space Marines, against a seemingly infinite number of Orks as the rapacious greenskins laid siege to it in an attempt to break a hole in the Gaium sub-sector's outer edge. He lost many men and the platform had to be destroyed in the end, but he'd made sure the Green-skins had not obtained any of its precious technology or system data and had bought enough time for the Excalibur to warp-in-system and wipe out the Ork pirate fleet. For this he'd been awarded with the rank of Company Captain and a place on Furious' personal council.
All three of these captains were currently elsewhere on the ship. Draciel was on the secondary bridge on the prow of the Excalibur, overseeing the crew there. Dranzer was in the warp core chambers with a detachment of troops from his company, as ever since they'd been told the truth of what lurked in the warp the Scarred Swords had been particularly weary of the device, despite the Mechanicum's assurances of the machine's safety. Driger was located in the Excalibur's main launch bay - a massive area on the underside of the ship's midsection - it was from here that most of the Scarred Swords legion's military forces were launched from as the entire legion (bar from a select few companies) were located and bred here.
"Are we ready to assault Raigon?" Qrow asked, his normally controlled choler was beginning to rise as spending so much time on this starship was driving him stir-crazy. But even though he could normally control his temper and loved to captain a void ship, that didn't mean his wrath was nothing to fear. He was highly skilled with almost all forms of weapon and not even Horus nor the Emperor himself could match his skill with a sword. He snarled beneath his helm at the thought that he would have to turn these skills upon one of his own brothers, with the intent to kill.
Dragoon approached his lord with a data slate clasped in his augmetic right hand. Qrow could never shake the sense of guilt he got whenever he looked at the bionic limb, knowing he'd sent Dragoon to that conflict so recklessly - albeit not without necessity.
"All ships in the fleet's forward strike formation are in range and ready to attack on your orders lord." the captain said without any emotion at all, a tone he'd mastered over the centuries of combat he'd survived. "Or should we wait for the artillery craft and missile destroyers in the rear to be able to fire?"
Qrow looked the man right in the dark red optical lenses of his helm and he could swear he could see the concern in the warrior's sharp eyes. When he'd taken control of the Second legion, he'd introduced a rule that only in situations of complete peace or when acting as diplomats for the Imperium, could his troops remove their helms. It was really just to insure the safety of his men, but he'd also been glad as in his early days as Primarch they had hidden the condescending looks of the veteran troops who believed him to be inadequate. Now, it would seem that even the thick plasteel helms could not hide the expressions of his astartes.
"The ships that are in range, when I give the order to fire, are to do so, but first." He wandered over to the guard rail that separated the platform which his throne sat upon from the rest of the bridge and called. "Tell vox control to hail the Hell Hound! I would have a word with my brother before we end this."
The communications crew set about sending a message to the enemy's flagship. The main bridge of the Excalibur even during piece times was always a place of feverish activity, with serfs and adepts moving hurriedly between the six ascending daises of the heavily compacted war room. Before long, a lone servitor approached the Primarch with a golden box, resting upon a plinth in the husk's mechanical grip. He grabbed the little microphone connected to the box and held it to his helmet's speaker.
"Hear me Raigon!" Qrow roared into the device, almost crushing it in his grasp. The primarch's sudden outburst caused many of the human bridge crew to jump and yelp while even a few of Dragoon's command squad flinched, having never truly heard their father vent in such a way. To Dragoon, however, this was neither new nor surprising. Unfortunately, the Storm Blade's demand was met with a rather surprising and unsatisfactory response, from a voice that was not Raigon's.
"The Lord of the End is not here at this moment to be spoken to." A weedy, conniving little voice was what he received in response to his demand. "I am the Lord's Equerry - Herlias Craul. May I be of some assistance to you Lord Qrow?"
"I know who you are weasel!" The Primarch snarled, Raigon had the gall to not face him directly in this, the final battle. "WHERE IS HE, WORM?!"
"Now, now Lord, one such as yourself sho-"
"Wrong answer." the Sixth captain sighed.
With a roar of outrage, Qrow crushed the microphone in his grasp, threw the remains (and subsequently the servitor) across the bridge and slammed his fists down upon the steel railing.
"Admiral!"
Lord Admiral Achilles Fyndral was the highest ranking naval officer in the Purge Fleet and one of the most decorated men in the entire Imperial Navy, so it took a lot to surprise him or make him fearful. The Primarch's bestial wrath was one of these things.
"Y-yes lord?" he stuttered.
"All ahead full, target the ships of that fleet and set course for the Hell Hound, WE ARE RAMMING THAT SHIP!" After screaming at the naval officer, Qrow turned his attention to Dragoon. "Contact Driger and tell him to make the final launch procedures. Also prep' me a craft!" the Astartes officer didn't even get a chance to respond before his commander began to storm from the bridge, towards the elevator that connected directly to the ship's internal tram system. But before he could get there a cacophony of sirens and alarms blared throughout the ship. This spiked concern in the Primarch, but not enough to quell his rage.
"What now?!" he yelled, turning back to face the bridge.
"Lord!" Admiral Fyndral called from his position behind another deck officer, who was sat at a command console. "We have picked up a massive spike in warp activity!"
"From where?" Dragoon called from behind a augar panel on the starboard wall of the bridge.
"Are those cowards trying to jump away? Or have reinforcements arrived?" Qrow asked, now back at the railing.
"No lord, the readings aren't coming from the void..." he began, before his eyes widened in shock. "They're coming from within the planet."
Before anyone could react, a bright purple flash lit up the dark bridge. Everyone looked in the direction that it had come from and some of the human crew gasped, as the planet cracked in two along its equatorial line. In the centre, where the planet's burning core had once been, a warp rift sat. It pulsed and warped, growing larger as it launched bolts of purple warp lightning at the traitor ships closest to it, dragging them into it with unrelenting force. Before Qrow could give the order for a high-energy turn away from Raigon, the Excalibur was caught by one of these graviton bolts and swiftly pulled towards the rift.
The pull jarred the ship and most of the humans and all of the servitors on the ship's main bridge were tossed through the air like a rich child's playthings. The Astartes of Dragoon's command crew staggered and lurched as the spacecraft moved beneath them (sometimes, artificial gravity was more of a hindrance than an advantage) and Dragoon himself had to cling onto the Master's Table to prevent himself from joining his men on the floor. Qrow was unaffected, he was one of the strongest Primarchs in a physical sense so he was able to brace himself against then ship's movements, he was looking for something. His highly enhanced eyes scanned every inch of space outside the ship, searching for his target, seeking his prey. Then he found it, just off the Excalibur's port side:
"There!" he called to the crew as they recovered and pointing. "Target and open fire upon the Hell Hound!" Within a second or two of this order being given, the Excalibur's port side was lit up as its entire broadside opened up and decimated the battle barge with an ocean of macro shells, plasma blasts and lance strikes. In seconds the entire starboard side of the Hell Hound had been ripped open, the pitchfork shaped prow had been blown off and its bridge was gone. The Hell Hound was dead and was left to drift into the rift in ruins. But the fight was not over.
"Enemy ships opening fire upon us!" an officer called.
"Void Shields are down! Warp interference preventing us from activating them!" another shouted.
"RETURN FIRE!!" Dragoon roared, his leadership instinct kicking in.
"We're approaching the rift!" Admiral Fyndral yelled, taking a firm hold of the Master's Table. "Five Seconds, all hands brace for impact!" he ordered over the ship's internal vox.
"Close blast shields!" Qrow gave the final order, as the Excalibur hit the warp rift, slowly sinking into it and creating a temporal ripple so large it destroyed several of the smaller ships around it.
Meanwhile, it was another peaceful night in Equestria, with most ponies either asleep or in nightclubs, so there were very few watching the skies that night. There was one however, a deep blue alicorn mare with a mane the same navy blue as the night sky with little white dots in it representing stars. She had a patch of black on each of her flanks and a crescent moon within each. Even without her royal crest and horse shoes, Princess Luna was the peak of beauty and royalty.
She'd taken the night off from wandering the dream-scape to simply admire her art - the stars. She recognized every little ball of light up there, well almost all.
"Hmm?" the Princess of the Night hummed to herself, as she saw one particular light that was far larger than the others and, apparently, moving towards the ground. It was too large to be a shooting star and it was clearly not a pegasus or thestral guard with a lantern.
Curious, Luna trotted over to the telescope that stood, dutifully, on her balcony and looked though it, directing it towards the light. What she saw made her gasp and knock the looking device over.
"SISTER!" she screamed, sprinting full-tilt into the castle.
ENTRY ENDS