Massacre at Fort West

Master Tracto's armored gauntlet smashed into the console, sparks flew as wisps of smoke crept through the newly formed cracks. It was the only outward sign of frustration he would allow himself. His head was low and his eyes closed as if in prayer. Those about him on the bridge stood solemnly at his side, the losses that day had been heavy. A Thunderhawk Gunship was on its way back to the Dark Angels command barge in orbit. The remains of Tracto's handpicked interdiction force aboard, some alive, as well the manyvdead of those bodies that could be retrieved.

The motionless body of Librarian By-Tor also lay in a stasis chamber, his armor torn asunder, and a pulsing mass of thickly scaled tentacles seemed to have erupted from the hole in his chest. His future was uncertain. He had been laid low before the marines ever began their combat action. A Hive Tyrant's Venom Cannon arced over a screening squad of tactical marines and shredded the Librarian's ancient power armor as if it were a Guardman's flak vest, flinging him to the ground before he ever sighted in the enemy.

Tracto watched the grainy, monochrome image of Scout Captain Winter on the holosphere. Winter's snipers fired round after round into a swarming mass of advancing Genestealers, but to no avail. It was sickening to watch as the clawed horrors bounded up the building's side and engaged the scouts in bloody melee. The last image was of a lone Winter, fighting impossible odds, combat knife in one hand, a Genestealer's throat in the other, being dragged down under the weight of half a dozen chitinous murderers.

Across the field of battle, another group of scouts charged from wooded cover, shotguns blasting, into a swarm of Termagants...only to fall moments later. A jump-pack equipped assault squad engaged the swarm's Hive Tyrant to avenge the fall of By-Tor, but to no avail. This wasn't a simple loss, it was slaughter. A lone tactical squad emerged somewhat victorious, their rapid fire boltguns destroying a swarm of Termagants as well as a swarm of what looked like nothing more than, well, swarms. The remainder of these tactical also expertly engaged the Hive Tyrant, tying it up for the rest of the battle.

The Dark Angels don't fling themselves carelessly into battle, every military action is carefully planned. Although the interdiction force sent out to engage the Tyranids was outnumbered, it was determined that the strength of the Dark Angels was evenly matched to the foes arrayed against them. Oddly enough, the battle did not play out as evenly matched as planned. The Tyranid swarms appeared to teem with even greater numbers than originally thought.

The saving grace of the battle was Assault Squad Icarus, who had been waiting in reserves. They were able to deep strike behind enemy lines and lay waste to the flanks and rear of many Tyranid elements. Flamethrower, bolt pistol, and chainsword were all used to extract vengeance in the name of the Emperor. Icarus' veteran sergeant Obduro saw his men eventually get cut down, but he carried on. Singlehandedly he cut down the Biovore monstrosities that had been lobbing spore mines the entire engagement. He also slew the remaining Genestealers. He carved out a victory on the field of battle using sheer willpower.

Here's the complete battle report.

Terminal Trucidos

>UNIT(0x816411c).eval()
FALSE
>UNIT(0x816411c).leader()
OBJ(0xfcd8e11)
>OBJ(0xfcd8e11).replace()
affirm
>UNIT(0x816411c).reorganize()
affirm
>UNIT(0x816411c).tactics().formation(PHALANX)
affirm
>UNIT(0x816411c).combat().init()
affirm


Trooper Joynes thirsted. He had marched, he had fought, he had worried, he had hungered, he had feared, he had prayed, he had run. Now, his thirst was all encompassing. The hard rock he sprawled across no longer dug into his side, and he had long ago shed the heavy pack which had dug into his back and slowed him down. His lasgun had helped him hobble through the orange soil, but it had rattled down the slope and out of site when he had slipped. His empty canteen he had cursed and hurled after it.

The cool air was no comfort as it rasped down Joynes parched throat. Water was what he needed. Water! The coughing fit seized him again and he clinched his body in agony, sending orange foam spattering across the rock. Once over, once the memory of the agonizing pain had left him, his dull eyes lighted on the orange spittle, and he tried to will his unresponsive muscles into clawing him over to it, to lick at the poisonous moisture, however slight.

His mind was foggy, but Joynes knew the end was near. There was no time, no time, no time. He could hear the other soldiers in his company hacking and crying out for water and dying, as though they were there with him now and not dead back at the camp then. Joynes had not gotten away in time. There was no time left. His drooping lids did not shield his eyes from the cowled figured of the Reaper of Death who rose blackly before him. Maybe a hallucination. Maybe not. He knew his time had come.

>UNIT(0x816411c).combat().terminate()
affirm

UNIT(0x816411c).awaken()

> heartbeat

> heartbeat

> heartbeat

> heartbeat

> hea<INTERRUPT>UNIT(0x816411c).awaken()
affirm
>

The orange water of the Trucidos droon roiled an ancient gases escaped below the surface. Black, oily preservation fluid, eons old, spilled forth, released at last. The shimmering warscythe cut through the surface and the venerable Lord stood from his flooded stasis tomb.

>UNIT(0x816411c).assemble(04587672, 599345, 1500)
affirm
>[for a1 in UNIT(0x816411c).curloc().scan() do a1.id()]
OBJ(0x816411c) - NATIVE
OBJ(0xa147aba) - NONNATIVE
OBJ(0xbc4e850) - NATIVE
> OBJ(0xa147aba).properties()
curloc = (0458325, 599112, 1472)
class = BIO
mass = LOW
threat_hueristic = TRUE
>UNIT(0x816411c).footing(WAR)
affirm

The entire shore of the droon was boiling as the oily, shimmering, metalic bodies rose from their ancient storage places. They stood motionless, then-- as though from some unseen signal-- they turned to the sheer cliff and drove their knifelike hands into the soil and began to climb.

>UNIT(0x816411c).tactics().formation(PHALANX)
affirm
>UNIT(0x816411c).tactics().objective(SECURE(0458325, 599112, 1472))
affirm
>UNIT(0x816411c).combat().init()
affirm

They crouched at the cliff edge of the droon until all their members had ascended the steep bank. Then, in unison, they began to seperate onto both sides of the ornate Lord, who held his Warscythe high and began to march...

Dark Angels: Battle One

"They're late...", grumbled Master Tracto as he watched a battered Thunderhawk gunship land in the spacious docking bay of the Dark Angels Battle Barge. On deck another Thunderhawk was being prepped for departure. Even on the small screen the image of Captain Othniel could be seen, pacing back and forth in front of the open cargo doors. His weapons were sheathed about his ornate armor and at his side he held a data-slate.

The cargo doors opened on the battered Gunship as it touched down, Dark Angels troops trickling out, battle damage visible on their dark green armor. Chapter apothecaries helped those more wounded out on stretchers. A group of Scouts, boots still caked with dried mud, hurried out of the battered ship. A small team of servitors, hauling hand trucks stacked with crates of fresh ammo and supplies, tried to keep pace with them as the Scouts headed towards Captain Othniel and the awaiting gunship.

As the team reached the new ship they methodically opened the crates the servitors had brought and began to restock their equipment; fresh grenades were slipped onto their belts, new magazines of ammunition were taken, boxes of shotgun shells were emptied into belt pouches, and other items the marines would need dirtside were procured. The squad leader, Scout Sergeant Felix, was eating a piece of ripened fruit, a bright blue specimen that had obviously been indigenous to the planet they had just come from. He began to explain to Captain Othniel that they had to pursue the Orks deeper than originally planned into the jungles, taking much longer than expected to complete their mission. After this lengthy explanation he looked to the captain, blue fruit juices had removed the camouflage face paint around his mouth and chin. Felix waited patiently for a response, anything other than the persistent, unflinching stare of Othniel. After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, the Captain spoke in an even, purposeful tone.

"You're late Sergeant Felix. Have your men strap in and prepare for drop, we hit Trucidos in five..." With that Captain Othniel handed the young sergeant the data-slate, turned, and went into the gunship. The fourth battle company of the Dark Angels chapter was about to once again go to war...

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Major Factions of the Campaign

Planet Trucidos

Trucidos

Trucidos is a barren planet covered with a large variety of climate zones and affected by intermittent geological activity caused by torsional stress from its close proximity to its single moon (which has incredibly dense compositional layers). Large, intermittent lakes (called "droon") were once used to harvest an energy rich algal material called Protoalgia - it's bright orange color is visible from orbit. The largest droon show evidence of once having settlements along their edges where Imperial citizens resided. These inhabitants were almost all part of the labor gangs that worked on the massive processoria, floating factory barges that extracted and exported the protoalgia. A large portion of these barges have since sunk into the droon depths, causing further ecological harm. A handful of these behemoths can still be found floating aimlessly about.

The remains of a small Adeptus Mechanicus research station appear on the largest moon, presumably there to study the relationship between the moon and the planet (considering their abnormal densities). Small research outposts have been scanned within the droon. Cataloguing the bizarre organisms found there and to do geological surveys of the sinkhole themselves would seem most likely. Strange energy readings in the deepest droon have spiked initial scan readings.

+++PLANETARY DATA+++

EQUATORIAL CIRCUMFERENCE: 27,961 Miles.
GRAVITY: 0.8G.
CLASS: Agri-world, new classification Dead World.
SUBSECTOR: Adrantis
YEAR LENGTH IN DAYS: Primary: 422 Secondary: 370 - due to the strange affect the largest moon (Trucido Primus) has on the planet, every second year is shorter than the previous one. The gravitational force required to do this is immense, and so it affects the geological stability of the planet.
DAY LENGTH IN TERRAN HOURS: 22.
SATELLITES: Two moons. The smallest (Trucidos Secondus) is home to what appears to be the main space port for the planet. The largest (Trucidos Primus) is inert and uninhabited except for a aforementioned abandoned Adeptus Mechanicus research station.

There is something unnatural about the relationship between the largest moon and Trucidos itself. The moon shouldn't be as dense as it is, and Trucidos shouldn't be as light as it is.

POPULATION: Unknown, estimated population during prime habitation 250,000,000+.

MEAN SURFACE TEMPERATURE: 10°C.

TROPOSPHERIC COMPOSITION: Nitrogen 74%, Oxygen 22%, Sulphur Dioxide 1%, Ozone 1%, Carbon Dioxide 2%.

CLIMATE: The planet has gales and dust storms that sweep the planet almost continuously. The barren landscape produces an abrasive wind of silica that eats away at anything in its path. Ofttimes massive earthquakes split the ground and drain droon into underground caverns.

CLIMATIC REGIONS: The poles are distinct white pockmarked caps. For some reason the planet's only known volcanic activity occurs at both poles, creating a network of frozen droon separated by magma flows and volcanic upheavals.

SEAS: The most notable features of Trucidos are its lakes. There are no oceans on the planet at all, just thousands of lakes (or droon), ranging in only a few dozen metres in width to several thousand kilometres. The most peculiar thing about these lakes is that they are exceedingly deep; although the average is a kilometre, the shallowest reach one hundred metres, and the deepest surveyed reach almost twenty kilometres in depth. Each water body sits in a sheer walled sink hole produced by the upheaval of the planetary plates. There are 37 major droon, with over a thousand secondary droon and tens of thousands of minor droon.

TERRA-FORMING: Limited evidence of alteration of Trucidos exists. Massive canals cut into the planet's surface are the most obvious man made features.

NATIVE FLORA AND FAUNA: The land is mostly barren, however several belts of lush vegetation exist, including some dense jungle areas. Many many urban ruins contain wooded areas that may be the result from overgrown planned growth areas. There are some small invertebrates, but the only animal of uniqueness is the Dirt Kelt. This is a bizarre creature, almost two metres in length. It moves rarely, and when it does it burrows through the sand and any rock in its way, using its stomach acids to dissolve them. The creature has backward pointing overlapping spines to give it grip as it moves through the ground and a tail separated into five articulated digits a third of its length, each covered in spines and barbs.

ALIEN FLORA AND FAUNA: Apart from the protoalgia, the only non native organisms rediscovered so far are ambul, accidentally transferred from other planets through presumable merchant drops.

DEFENCES: Most of the planetary defense were in orbit. Massive orbital batteries and torpedo silos surrounded the planet and its moons. Most curiously, these are nowhere to be found, and no signs of them having crashed into the planet have been detected.

IMPERIAL GUARD RECRUITMENT: A singular event from millennium past still exists in the great records of the Imperium and has even made a place in the textbooks of Guard history. A [unknown] years ago the Governor wished to raise the profile of Trucidos (and himself) and decided to raise a regiment of guard. They were seen as a joke by most of the guard, and were left to defend the supply depots behind the lines. They would have been lost altogether to the annals of history. In an engagement against the greenskins, an ork blitzkrieg had against all odds smashed through the guard lines. They rampaged through the line eventually encountering the main guard supply depot. Sensing an easy target they descended in a horde upon the supply tents. What the captain of the Trucidos regiment said to his men is not known, but popular belief has it as something along the lines of "Protect the Emperor's Holy Rations!" When the forward guard elements finally caught up to the horde, they found utter carnage. Not a single ork was alive, and not a single foodstore had been damaged. The Trucidos 1st, paranoid about their food had thought the orks meant to steal it, and had fought to the last man to protect the Emperor's rations. From then on all regiments raised from Trucidos had the expectation of self sacrifice and fearlessness in the face of certain death planted firmly on their unwilling shoulders. "Firster" is common droon slang used to describe someone who is distinctly insane, used even in parts of the guard today.

CONTACT WITH OTHER WORLDS: Trucidos was originally part of the Tephaine System, however its recent rediscovery has it far from this area of the galaxy.

The Trucidos Campaign Begins!

Master Tracto squeezed through the massive Deathwing Terminators guarding the ruined bridge of the Vespillo. His heavy armor boots crunched the broken and burned chiten of the tyranid bodies the Deathwing had tracked down and destroyed. "What have you found, Brother Paganus?" he demanded of his Techmarine. "I want off this hulk now."

Paganus turned from the twitching twisted body of the pilot. "Imperial frigate Vespillo, Sword Class. Came through the Immaterium in the clearing warp storms of Sector IV. They appeared to have discovered a planet there, Trucidos, shielded from us since almost the time of the betrayal. They obviously found more than they bargained for." He prayed over the open skull of the pilot and readjusted his equipment. Drool rolled out of the lolling mouth as images flickered acoss the damaged monitor. Imperial Guard patrols searching ancient ruins of decrepit Imperial buildings. Adeptus Mechanicus examining ancient finds. Imperial Guard falling back before a warrior and chittering hordes of smaller tyranids.

"Tyranid infestation," stated Tracto. "Doesn't seem too far developed. We go in, we clear it."

"I don't believe that's all they found, Master," replied Paganus. "Look in the distance." Paganus prayed silently again, wrenching his tools deeper into the pilots brain as the monitor froze. "'The machine spirit guards the knowledge of the ancients,'" he intoned. Almost unnoticeable against the mountains in the distance stood two tall, black, pyramidal monoliths. "'The machine spirit guards the knowledge of the ancients.'"

Tracto stared at the screen, then gestured off the bridge. "Fine. Clear out, notify the Guard of their failure, then torpedo this infestation." Paganus followed him out, covered careful by the hulking Deathwing terminators. "Notify Commander Othniel. He's going to drop on Trucidos."