Welcome to Librarium Online!
Join our community of 80,000+ members and take part in the number one resource for Warhammer and Warhammer 40K discussion!
Registering gives you full access to take part in discussions, upload pictures, contact other members and search everything!
Here's a short story I wrote to support this army list, a DIY Deathwatch army led by Pedro Kantor of the Crimson Fists.....I promise it makes sense, hope you enjoy.
Master of the Forge: Conversion Beamer- 120
SG x 10: 6 combi-flamers, rhino- 315
SG x 10: 6 combi-meltas, rhino- 315
SG x 10: 6 combi-meltas, rhino- 315
Sniper Scouts: ML- 85
Sniper Scouts: ML- 85
Attack Bike: MM- 50
Ironclad Dreadnought: HF, Meltagun, 2 DCCW's in pod- 180
Ironclad Dreadnought: HF, Meltagun, 2 DCCW's in pod- 180
Ironclad Dreadnought: HF, Meltagun, 2 DCCW's in pod- 180
Pedro Kantor sat in his command module awaiting the report from his scouts. Kantor had taken his entire 1st company on an expedition to hunt down a local Ork mob raiding the sector. He took every opportunity, however small to kill Ork kind. His 1st company consisted of 15 terminators in 3 Land Raiders, 120 Sternguard Veterans mounted in Rhinos as well as 80 Vanguard Veterans and 3 Ironclad Dreadnought battle brethren in Drop Pods deep striking from his fleet in orbit. He brought 2 small squads of scout bikes and 20 scout snipers with him to build experience and instill a little awe in the newer recruits.
As he pondered, the dull whine of the scout bikes became barely audible outside; he went out to investigate. Sergeant Tercius greeted him respectfully and dove into his report,
“My Lord, there are approximately 200 Orks encamped 12 kilometers to the south.”
“Very well, alert Captain Villar of the Terminators. We move out in one hour.”
Kantor notified the fleet so that his orbital strike and drop pods would be ready to launch. Then he convened a meeting between Villar and himself in order to decide on a plan of attack. The meeting was largely out of habit; 200 Orks stood absolutely no chance against a larger force of his elite marines. In fact, Kantor would be personally devastated if they took a single casualty.
Soon, Kantor was jostling in the back of a Rhino with his Sternguard Veterans heading swiftly towards the Orks. He watched as each man surveyed his gear. They were Veterans of a thousand battles; the best the Imperium of Man had to offer, especially against Orks for whom his chapter had a particular hatred. Too recently, it was the Orks who had forced Pedro Kantor into an impossible choice. So decimated were his ranks after the defense of Ryann’s World and their Fortress Monastery that he had to decide. He could remain, and keep his precious few troops in place to defend the world from an inevitable second Waaagh to conquer their homeworld. Or, he could take to the fleet, rebuild their ranks through the 10th company and take the fight to the enemy across the galaxy. It went against every instinct in his ancient bones to leave Ryann’s World. They had worked tirelessly in service to the Holy Emperor to earn a home planet of their own and now that they finally had one, they had to choose between it and survival. He was ridiculed by many of his peers. He made the right choice for the Empire, for humanity. His pride would have to suffer. Soon his fellow chapter masters would be glad the Crimson Fists were still around.
Without warning the Rhino was rocked and upended by a projectile. They were flipped upside down. Outside, the very air was concussed by the deafening roar of gunfire. Kantor punched a huge hole in the hull of the Rhino and rolled out in to the fray. He was greeted by a hail of fire that ricocheted off of his armor. He roared and returned fire indiscriminately. Aiming was irrelevant; they were surrounded. The sky was as bright as day with the muzzle flash of thousands of weapons. He shouted orders through his vox to his Veteran Sergeants. He didn’t need to, his marines were already creating a perimeter. His terminators had circled up, using the Land Raiders’ considerable firepower and bulk for cover as they used their storm bolters and assault cannons to wither the enemy. His Sternguard were clambering out of the mostly destroyed Rhinos. They fought back to back amongst the ruins of the convoy. Kantor raised the controllers in orbit and ordered the descent of his Dreadnoughts and Vanguard Veterans. As he ordered an orbital strike on a position 400 meters to the East, he rescinded it immediately. His scouts were holding the high ground; a rocky outcrop overlooking a sea of Orks. There was a single scout bike remaining, swerving through the encirclement of the green tide, slashing madly with a crazed look in his eyes. Too close for sniper rifles, they were using their bolt pistols and powerswords. Soon they’d be using their fingernails.
Kantor ran towards the front of the convoy where the circled Land Raiders were holding their extreme flank.
“Captain Villar! Mount up! We Push East!” shouted Kantor, despite his voice amplifier being sufficient.
The terminators embarked in their Raiders and Kantor jumped inside the lead vehicle. It was a sight to behold; thousands of rounds glistening on the surface of the Land Raiders in the moonlight. They appeared to burn a hole through the tide of Orks as they careened towards the scouts. They reached the scouts, perhaps a dozen of whom remained, and circled up again surrounding the outcrop. They were now most likely separated permanently from the Sternguard who were slaying Orks by the hundreds with their special ammunition but still taking noticeable casualties due to the overwhelming volume of ill-aimed fire. Kantor saw the stars in the sky get a bit brighter. Soon, comets appeared to rain on the battlefield as his Vanguard Veterans crashed in to the Ork horde led by Chaplain Palerian, undoubtedly his fiercest warrior. They eliminated the gulf between the Sternguard and his group. Three enormous Drop Pods bearing his hulking, gleaming Dreadnoughts shattered the earth on the West side of the convoy. They soon were creating independent havoc, sending even the generally fearless Orks running. The momentary chasm allowed the Crimson Fists to close ranks with each other. United, they fought with renewed and righteous fury as they brought the fight to the xenos scum. Their rage was terrible and since the onset of the ambush, Kantor was sure no less than ten times their number had been slain. Still, he could not help but notice that half of his Sternguard had fallen, as well as the majority of his scouts.
The Vanguard were shepherding swathes of Orks right into the hail of fire put forth by the Sternguard. Centuries of working together had bred a thoughtless synergy of perfect tactical execution. Oceans of flame from the Dreadnoughts engulfed dozens of Orks at a time and now that they had cover, his sniper scouts used their rifles for the first time, targeting Nobz and searching for a Warboss. The tide began to actually retreat when a rumble was felt and heard over the hill to the East. Kantor could see the lights before the vehicles themselves. Fifty battlewagons crested the hill and their lights blinded him for a moment. Worse, they were merely the harbinger for a dozen Battle Fortresses whose Deffrollas tilled the ground and turned many an errant Ork into a bloody mess on their way to the Space Marines.
Kantor signaled wordlessly to Chaplain Palerian and Captain Villar. The Vanguard soared to meet the threat followed closely by the thundering Land Raiders with their Terminator cargo. Kantor called his Orbital Bombardment in on the incoming wave of Ork armor. The ensuing explosions appeared to come up from the ground instead of above from space and turned battle wagons to molten scrap. His Vanguard met the incoming battlewagons and Ork burnas engulfed the veterans in curtains of flame even as meltabombs blew their transports to smithereens. The Battle Fortresses blasted aside the wrecks and abandoned vehicles and met the Land Raiders. Mega Armored Nobz shook the ground as they disembarked and met the Terminators in close combat. Captain Villar engaged three Nobz himself. His glowing Thunder Hammer crushed the Nob in the bulk of his own Mega-armor. Powerfist met Powerklaw and the Emperor’s humble servants crushed the enemy and paid dearly for it. After a few short and vicious minutes of combat, nothing remained of the Orks’ reinforcements or the Crimson Fists’ Vanguard. Kantor paused from shooting and watched as VIllar met the Ork Warboss Raz-Ing Mag Unger in single combat. Villar dodged an incoming attack from one of the massive klaws and thrust his sword into the Warboss’ chest cavity. The Ork laughed. Raz-Ing Mag Unger grabbed the Terminator Captain with each klaw and pulled him close, plunging the powersword further into his own gut. He roared and ripped the arms from Captain Villar who slumped, helpless for the first time since birth, in to the dirt. If he wasn’t dead, he soon would be.
Kantor screamed and ordered a charge over his vox to all remaining forces. Rhino carcasses groaned under the weight of Dreadnoughts as they vaulted the line of wrecked transports to join the line of Sternguard charging the Ork Warboss and his remaining gang. Kantor ran faster than the rest and only the Dreanoughts kept up, politely keeping just abreast with him. The Warboss began to heckle him from across the distance and his boyz were emboldened by the slaughter of two of his captains. Kantor jumped in the air and brought his Fist down on the Warboss with the righteous thunder of the Emperor. The Warboss deflected with a klaw but it was crinkled in the wake of the powerfist. There was a flash of fear in the Ork’s eyes before instinctual rage took its place and the Warboss countered with a rokkit that hit Kantor right in the chest and knocked him backwards end over end. He coughed up blood and grit his teeth, rising and searching for his enemy through the din.
He ran towards the Warboss who was joined in combat with a foolish Sergeant Tercius. The Scout mainly dodged the swipes of the Warboss, his weapons ineffective as the Ork toyed with his prey. He approached from behind amidst the fighting and mustered all his considerable strength, nearly a millennia of muscle density and the best genetic enhancements the ancients could offer thrust the powerfist through the armor and flesh of the Warboss and out the other side. Kantor’s fist was covered in the Crimson of his armor and the darker, deeper crimson of the Ork’s blood. He withdrew his hand and the warboss slumped to the ground with a gurgle. Kantor flipped the heaping body over and stared into the eyes of a dying animal.
“I’m going to feed you your own teeth, scum.” Whispered Kantor in the Ork’s primitive ear. He plunged his fist through the skull of his wasted foe and met no resistance save the rock and dust. His Sternguard mopped up the warband as his remaining scouts began to pick up xenos weapons, having run out of their own rounds. His Dreadnoughts added new fire to the embers of the battle as they burned the bodies of the wretched Orks with their Heavy Flamers.
Kantor surveyed his losses. He had perhaps 40 Sternguard, 11 scouts and two of his Dreadnoughts left. None of his vehicles survived, nor any of his Vanguard or Terminator brethren. He had lost his Chaplain and Terminator Captain, two men he considered friends and equals. He had walked into an ambush. He cursed himself for not bringing more scouts. Before he could ruminate much further, his stomach turned when he heard blasts in the distance. His anxiety quickly turned to murderous rage. He turned around and saw the night sky filled with the afterburn of rokkit packs on stormboyz. Thousands of them blacked out the moons of Iskan IV. Wartrukks and warbuggies swerved haphazardly underneath them as a force at least as large as the one they had just narrowly defeated raced towards their position. Kantor ordered a defensive crescent to be formed and his Sternguard readied their Holy Bolters and loaded their Vengeance rounds.
The swarm of stormboyz crashed through Kantor’s lines and the Sternguard were enveloped in close combat. A Nob charged a Sternguard Veteran Sergeant from behind as he was engaged with two other Orks. Tercius saw the Veteran was about to be slain and picked up a Thunder Hammer from a fallen Terminator. He heaved the enormous weapon with all his genetically altered might at the Nob and took the beast’s head off. Tercius dropped the Hammer and picked up a powersword and began thrashing at the Ork stormboyz. Kantor fought with the frenzied, fearless wrath of a man who knew his fate was sealed and was pleased to know the end was near. The Sternguard subconsciously organized their defense around the Dreadnoughts who were the only thing keeping the sheer mass of the Ork horde from pushing them around. Their Heavy Flamer fuel has gone dry and they were using their mechanical hulk to smash Ork boy against Ork boy in an almost comical display of prowess. Kantor laughed and his spirits were invigorated by the secret dream of all Space Marines, to die in glorious battle slaying the enemies of Mankind. Kantor had always known he had done the right thing by abandoning Ryann’s world, but he always resented not being able to die in its defense. He was not the Master now, nor the leader, not the glorious champion of his own chapter nor heir to the legend of Rogal Dorn. He was just a man, he was Pedro, he was a Space Marine; fighting with instinct and grit, claws, nails and hate. He was prepared to die.
Then, salvation arrived from orbit. He was too ensconced in the battle to really look, but if he had he would have seen a Dreadnought, attack bikes, Sternguard and a Master of the Forge of the Lamenters chapter coming to their aid. Soon the wave of Orks began to break against the combined force of the Lamenters and Crimson Fists. The Lamenters fresh legs showed Kantor just how tired his men must have been. What seemed to be insurmountable quickly became manageable. Soon the remnants of the Ork Waaagh limped back to the foothills of the mountains, never to rise again. The battle had ended as suddenly as it had begun.
The Lamenters and Crimson Fists returned to orbit. Kantor talked to each of his surviving warriors. He especially wanted to speak with Tercius. He had 30 remaining Sternguard Veterans, 11 Scouts and 2 Dreadnoughts. He told them to rest, and after a short ceremony elevating Tercius to a full marine, Kantor took a fighter to the Lamenters ship to speak with the Master of the Forge who had come to his rescue.
The Lamenters entire fleet was one battle cruiser. Kantor knew they had been decimated by Hive Fleet Kraken during their repentant crusade for the shames of their treason during the Badab War. Things were far worse than he had heard. The Master of the Forge had brought his entire combat force with him to relieve the Crimson Fists on Iskan IV. 10 Sternguard, 1 Rhino, 1 attack bike and 1 Ironclad Dreadnought with accompanying Drop Pod. The two commanders sat in the Master’s quarters, appointed with all manner of complex and ancient devices, as well as xenos (potentially heretical) weaponry of which Kantor knew nothing.
“How did you find us?” asked Kantor.
“Your Command Vessel put out an assistance beacon throughout the sector, we responded, as would any loyal servant of the Emperor.” Responded the Master, as he poured a libation for them with one of his mechanical arms.
“You look like you are hurting yourself. I had heard of your struggles against the Tyranids but I thought you still called several hundred marines your own.” Said Kantor.
“That was true even 2 years before. We were cursed by a scourge that stole 95% of our ranks including our Chapter Master and Librarian. I am all that remains to command the Lamenters. Our brothers of Sanguinus claimed they had discovered a cure for our cursed gene-seed, and being as desperate as we perhaps were, we accepted it gladly. A devastating choice. Our ‘red thirst’ is seemingly quenched, but at a price deadly to our effectiveness. A lab rat for our older brothers. I am too old for bitterness or revenge, I want only the numbness of battle. I fear that our long struggle is over; we shall slowly pass in to nothing. I intend to take our remaining forces and dedicate them to the Ordo Xenos.”
“I have used the Deathwatch to enhance the experience of my own Veterans over the years. I have a good relationship with many of their inquisitors and have found the experience gained amongst their ranks indispensable. It is a shame that you have only this choice to make, but an honorable one it is, and if your salvation of my men is any proof, you shall be an essential ally to the Ordo Xenos in the ceaseless crusade against the enemies of the Emperor.” Offered Kantor.
“Thank you, now you must excuse me, I must tend to what precious few vehicles I have left so that they may be ready for our coming battles. It was an honor and privelege fighting by your side.” And with that, the Master of the Forge and Pedro Kantor parted ways while their vessels shared orbit around Iskan IV.
Kantor kept drinking in his own cabin aboard Rogal’s Fury, his command ship. His hatred of the Orks only intensified with each drink poured. His anger had given way to the immense loss of so many of his 1st company and more than numerical, his losses were personal. Even as a commander, perhaps especially as a commander, you cannot fight beside men for centuries and not become the best of friends with so many of them. All the while the words of the Master of the Forge echoed in his mind. Ordo Xenos. Deathwatch. He had sent Veterans there for decades, only to see them come back twice the warrior with invaluable knowledge and new tactical insights in combating the xenos threat. He longed to do nothing but fight the wretched Ork, the dangerous Tyranid, the self-righteous Tau, the ancient Necron and the haughty Eldar; but mainly the Ork. The work of rebuilding the Crimson Fists would be a tedious, necessary and draining task. The long, consuming work of a far younger man. Kantor was weary of the organizational burdens he had worn for so long. His predecessor was much younger when he himself had become Chapter Master. Thoughts began swimming in his mind of a great crusade, a swan song for he and the remnants of his 1st company. He would go with the Lamenters and volunteer his services to the Ordo Xenos. Of course he would not subject his forces to the leadership of an Inquistor, no, he would lead them himself; and the forces of the Lamenters as well should they wish it. He had discovered a fearsome warrior and natural leader in the young Tercius. It would be unprecedented to leave a newly appointed marine in charge of an entire chapter. But Kantor had become a tremendous judge of talent over his time as Chapter Master. He knew a born leader when he saw one. It would not be long before Tercius gained the respect of his marines. He would be ridiculed, even scorned by his peers for such a decision. Abdication it would be called, abandonment. His judgment, his leadership, even his courage would be called into question. But as he knew so many years before when he had to leave Ryann’s World, he knew in his heart it was the right decision. He called in one of his servants and gave an order to redesign his armor’s heraldry. Then he collapsed in the deepest sleep of his life.
In the morning, he stepped before the formation of Veterans in armor of the darkest black, with the Crimson Fists Chapter symbol on his right shoulder pauldron and the silver skull of the Ordo Xenos on his left. In fact his entire left arm was painted in bright silver. Only his fists still bore the proud Crimson of his past.
“We go to fight the Tyranid, and the Necron, and the Eldar and the Tau! We go to fight the alien enemies of the Emperor, to hunt them where they sleep! We go to burn their corpses and their planets! And we go to fight the Ork! We will meet the greatest Waaagh and we will send them wailing to the ether as they mewl in a fear hitherto unknown to their kind! We go to turn the green tide to red! We will be…The Deathwatch!”
On first reading, the only issue I can see is that joining the Deathwatch isn't a resignation or a punishment, it's one of the highest honours an individual space marine can receive. The idea that the Lamenters would all go off and do it scouts and all kind of misses the point. Deathwatch generally deploy in lone kill teams whose job is to carry out a specific objective (such as assassinating or capturing a particular target, collecting a piece of valuable technology or spearheading an otherwise impossible assault), more troops are not necessarily advantageous to the types of missions the Deathwatch are assigned to. It's far more likely for an Inquisitor to build up friendship ties with particular chapters so that he can call on their aid if he needs troops. Part of the point of Deathwatch kill-teams teams is also to combine the different combat doctrines and strengths of different chapters, so recruiting a whole army from one chapter would be rather counter-productive on that level. The Inquisitor responsible may as well just write a letter to the Lamenters asking for their help.
Also, joining the Deathwatch means being agents of the Inquisition. That's largely what distinguishes Deathwatch from other marines, it's where the high tech gear, special ammunition and extra training comes from. As I understand it, Deathwatch marines are generally given a lot of autonomy and a relatively broad mandate relative to other marines, but while there might not always be an Inquisitor standing over their shoulder they still have to follow orders.
Last edited by The_Giant_Mantis; March 27th, 2011 at 15:31.
Thanks for the reply; didn't expect many people to actually read the whole thing!
I know it's a stretch, you're points are valid and that's exactly why there hasn't been a Deathwatch/Alien Hunters Codex. I wanted to find a plausible way to play a larger Deathwatch force and the first thing I thought of was Sternguard. I'm far from the first to paint up an SG squad as a DWKT. But I had also read that the Crimson Fists had a very close relationship with the Ordo Xenos. If anyone could get an inquisitor to give him the latitude to induct an entire army into the Deathwatch, it's Pedro Kantor. The Lamenters are a smaller force than the Fists going into this, and they're there for two reasons. Their lone dreadnought, Chyron, served with the Deathwatch and I wanted to include a chapter that was close to extinction, closer actually than the Fists.
I like the idea of two chapters facing unrealistic odds of rebuilding effectively making a choice to throw in with the Ordo Xenos. And just from an aesthetics perspective, Deathwatch Lamenters look so damn cool. I'm not saying I won't have a few other Chapters represented someday, but right now it's just the Emo Marines and the Pedrowing. I'm sure it's rare, but I'm also sure that the Ordo Xenos would like to have a larger force around once in a while when a kill team just won't suffice, but calling the IG is just unnecessary.
Thanks again for the input.
How about adding Shrike as a "counts as" and some infiltrating Vanguard Vets? Probably not the most competitive choice but certainly very cool and in my opinion more Deathwatchy than a MoF (your story would need a minor re-write but I think it fits with the Lamentors BA heritage).
I liked the story (made for a good read while at work), but I agree with most of what The_Giant_Mantis said.
Last edited by Bugs_n_Orks; April 18th, 2011 at 20:54.
The meat things seek to destroy ourselves. They hunt us as we hunt them but they are weak and uncertain. Bring them understanding of the power of ourselves through our strength and their fear. The inferior flesh will be entirely destroyed, all fragments will be smashed. Ourselves will fight to the last, all weak flesh must be consumed