A Relictor Leiutenant. A Primaris Space Marine of a powerful and effective Chapter with a clear purpose and mission statement.  But still regarded as a heretic in some places.  So might carry out some missions in a clandestine manner.

 

Evorun Dullet had ordered his armed guardians to secure the entrances to this part of the space dock after his pair of locally engaged fixers had paid off the local gangs to be somewhere else.  The orbital yards around Hydrapour had more than enough forgotten corners to satisfy his masters that their meeting could pass unmarked.  

He reached inside his jacket and switched off the twanging, thumping drum beats of the tribal electrofunk that he was partial to.  The Thunderhawk transporter slide quietly into the space, even its immense presence still nowhere near filling the dock.  The blast doors beyond the atmosphere seal closed and the transport settled down with a soft but very noticeable 'crump'.  Evorun was sure that the only people near enough to hear or feel it were those engaged by him.  And his masters paid so very well.

The front ramp of the incredibly purposeful, brutal looking craft cracked open in a hiss as the slight overpressure inside the space craft vented into the dock.  Evorun, sure that his attire was in order (he'd checked it several times) strode out to meet his master.

The huge, hooded and cloaked figure stomped down the ramp and made a few meters into the empty dock and came to a halt, waiting the mere human coming to meet him to arrive.  Evorun stopped five meters away from the spectre and swept the tails of his long coat back with his left hand as he dropped to one knee before the giant.

"You have what we seek?"  the voice rasped out synthetically through the grill on the front of the giant's helmet.  Evorun knew that the helm under that hood was surmounted by a white edged broad red band but could not see anything under the cavernous hood.  Not even a glow from the eye pieces.

"Yes Lord, the Hisitee Nou were uncommonly accommodating, as if they did not care for the relics.  With your permission ?" Evorun stood up, the giant gave a subtle gesture and Evorun keyed the communicator once.  

The one burst of transmitter signal set Evorun's default plan into action.  Two cargo eights, one on the heels of the other, drove into the dock and made a wide circuitous pass behind the Thunderhawk, then slowed and moved up at walking pace into position below the portage stations under the transporter.  

"There was no talk of payment ?"

"No Lord.  I half expected them to ask for geneseed, or forbidden weaponry or something like that."

"They made no demands ?"

"The one I spoke with said 'as with the Executioners and the Astral Claws we may call on your masters in the future.'"

"And you know what that means ?"

"No my Lord." replied Evorun truthfully.  But he could guess. And he knew that the giant knew. 

There was a pause.  Evorun changed the subject;   "The only thing I wanted but could not obtain was automatically releasing clamps on the cargo eights.  We'll have to unbolt the containers manually."

The giant nodded towards the cargo eights and their containers "Are they manned ?"

"No Lord, they are automata"

"Leave them then, I will depart now."  The giant turned on his heel, as he did so the ramp cracked open once more.

"You have done well."

The space marine left with his containers of illicit Templar relics, cargo eights still dangling.  The Thunderhawk would blend with the other traffic around the space port rings and rendez vous with the 4th Company cruiser "Arc of the Covenant" as it refuelled on the other side of the gas giant.  

All Evorun had to do now was pay everyone off and ensure they were adequately dispersed around the sector before the arbites, criminal gangs, other chapter's spies, spyrers and lastly the Inquisition (in that order, most likely) figured out what was going on.  And of course he'd have to disappear for a decade or two.  He knew full well that he would wake up in a week or so with a new identity and only vague recollections of who he was.  He was pretty sure that he was supposed to have no idea at all, but after all this time, the multiple persona overlay was possibly stretching thin.

Perhaps he'd be someone with a more comfortable lifestyle next time ?

At some point, just as before, some deeply implanted thing would go off in his head and he'd make his way to a blank bit of space to suddenly meet another Relictor to get his next mission.  

Protagonists by Siph Horridus and Da Masta Cheef.

Outrageous skullduggery by yours truly.

66th Bombardment Group

For the siege of Xyphonica, the artillery units at Corps level with suitable ordinance are brigaded into Bombardment Groups, numbered as:

72 Army Group

17 Korps               66 Bombardment Group
18 Corps               68 Bombardment Group
38 Corps               74 Bombardment Group

3422 Army Group

44 Corps              76 Bombardment Group
6 Corps                78 Bombardment Group

The Bombardment Group is an administrative device designed to give the now static Corps flexible, round the clock cover; effectively a form of duty officer for each Corps ensuring that the artillery is on call when needed; each unit taking a turn, with larger units taking a larger share of the burden.

What the bombardment group also allows is to share the fire missions around between suitable units, so that Divisional assets are not over used or not used as infantry and armoured units rotate through the front line positions.

The pict shows a FOO party from 90th DKK Heavy Artillery Regiment, supporting the DKK 143rd Siege Regiment which arrived to reinforce 903 Division of 17 Korps during the Siege of Xyphonica. The FOO is accompanied by a technical assistant and the four gunners for protection whilst close enough to see the enemy.  One of the close protection party, which would be drawn from the regiment's drivers (now that all of the batteries are in static positions for the Siege), as swapped his las rifle for a plasma gun.

The FOO party are preparing to deploy alongside a sniper pair from the same regiment.  The regiment retains a platoon of snipers principally to maintain contact with the front line whether the front line is moving or static.  They are also able to engage targets which might be more suitable for their particular skill set and equipment.

Paint by PirateViking.

Sisters of the Casa Rosmaninhal of the Order of the Sacred Rose.

One of the other allied Priories of the Order of the Sacred Rose sent a delegation to aid their sisters on their mission to Devos IV.

Originally this was a strong delegation of well organised, aggressively militaristic Adeptas Sororitas, with  two squads of Seraphim, forty sisters with Rhinos and additional heavy support.  However, the attrition of usual warp travel that such a journey brings means that only five sisters arrive on Devos IV.

The fact that these five have survived against overwhelming odds and literally waded through the mashed bodies of their sisters to get to where they are today has them burning with zeal uncommon even amongst the evangelical hard line psychopaths of the Adeptas Sororitas.  Woe betide anyone who has anything to do with them.

Again, these were painted by Golem.

Sisters of the House of Marik of the Order of Our Martyred Lady

Canoness Don Coin is well aware that in a real shouting match, the Chamber Militant of Casa Bonetti are hopeless outgunned.  So even as they were preparing to leave their priory, she sent messages to other Adeptas Sororitas Priories inviting any who felt inclined to join her mission to Devos IV and smite the heretic, the mutant and the traitor in the Emperor's name.

The Priory of the Oriente Protectorate has sent a delegation from its chamber militant.  This has been deliberately scaled so to not be refused, ie big enough to be worth having, but small enough, ie not enough to mount an independent action, to be a veiled insult to the Order of the Sacred Rose.

The paint on these was definitely by Golem.

Casa Bonetti of the Order of the Sacred Rose

Bishop Popper (of the Cultus Imperialis "The Tree of Man") is officially the highest ranking member of the clergy on Devos IV.  Militant General Zhukov's staff generously allow him to sit at planetary command level within the offices of the Plenipotentiary for Morale and Propaganda.

Having seen other arms of the imperium contribute to the war effort (and thus qualify for or be better positioned to grab a share of whatever spoils there might be), he petitioned the ecclesiasty for a little more muscle.

Just as 3422nd Army Group form up and begin to move from Camp Nuttar around the top of the City to there planned positioned on the eastern side, the Adeptus Sororitas of Casa Bonetti arrive at the Space Port in Acre (lacking the Departmento Munitorium clearance to land directly at Camp Nuttar.

Bishop Popper is used to those who serve the ecclesiasty following his lead at the very least.  He has been able to call on a body of militant mendicants to offer to the Departmento as volunteer priests to accompany Guard units to war.

Now all of a sudden, eerily reminiscent of the Militant General, he has got what he asked for, but no experience or idea of what to do with what he has been sent.  And his relationship with the canoness is so far a vox greeting as she reached orbit.  How things pan out from here is a matter of some interesting wagers in some corners of the imperial war effort.

Her Grace the Canoness Talamare Ineglese Don Coin is the Commander of the Casa Bonetti's Chamber Militant.  She is a somewhat enigmatic character.  She is scared of clowns, to the extent of shoot pict casters which show them.  In vehicular transport, she prefers to drive herself, eschewing being driven by anyone else, even when she is unfamiliar with the type.  She does not issue commands or make plans, trusting to her charges to know what it is they are supposed to be doing.  On campaign, she is perfectly happy to live on grapes, onions and vitamin suppliments. Obviously there is an expectation that this is perfectly acceptable for the rest of the Chamber. Like the rest of her kind, she is short tempered, over zealous, intolerant and suspicious. Aside from all of this, she is perfectly normal.

“Fear is the path to the dark side. Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering.” — Yoda

The brothers of the Lostwithial believe that they are not afraid of anything.  After all, they know that they are made to the Emperor's design, and they shall know no fear.

But this isn't about so much about Space Marines and their relationship with fear, as the Black Templars and their relationship with the rest of the universe.

There were once some rhino APCs, made to the usual STC on some Forge World and duly supplied to the Imperial Fists.  As bits wore out and replaced, in common with a lot military assets, Marine, Guard and Navy, the designated items may well have been reconditioned and refurbished so many times that there are possibly no original parts left.

These Imperial Fist vehicles eventually became Black Templar vehicles, honoured and revered for their history and venerated service, after more time has passed, damage is repaired and worn parts are replaced, there is no part of any of these vehicles left which ever saw an Imperial Fist. 

In the way such things work out, the Black Templars who had these vehicles no longer needed them.  Perhaps their crusade suffered losses which meant that these vehicles were surplus to requirements.  Perhaps the Black Templars were supplied with brand new vehicles to replace the bitsa parts and chop shop tired old rhinos they had.  And on a long campaign against a formidable foe, these old vehicles could be given, however grudgingly, to other Space Marines, however unworthy, to prosecute the cause and carry out the will of the Emperor.

But Black Templar crusades, even strike forces, are largely self governing.  What is established lore for some may be unknown to others.  The brothers of the Lostwithial have been made away that the Incandescent Coyotes (Hisitee Nou in their mother tongue) have three Black Templar rhinos.  And that the parts of those honoured and venerated vehicles which identified them specifically as Black Templar vehicles have now been removed and replaced, thus dishonouring those probably stolen vehicles.

Castellean Brodeep discussing, in a prayer fuelled war council, the three ancient Imperial Fist rhinos, lovingly cared for by the Black Templars, and the dishonour done to them now.  He is outlining the retribution to be enacted should the brothers of the Lostwithial ever come across the Incandescent Coyotes during their travels.

Not that I'm suggesting these valiant upholders of the Emperor's will angrily roam his empire, leaving nothing but suffering and ruin behind them.  All in his name.