Epic Brotherhood of the Lost - Warhammer 40K Fantasy
 

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    Junior Member simison's Avatar
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    Brotherhood of the Lost

    Greetings,

    I'm simison, project leader, writer, and editor of the Icarion Insurrection. I'm here to show a new fan side of Warhammer 40,000 and to extend an invitation. Instead of crafting one huge post, our project has come up with a more elegant way of showing everyone what we have.

    https://www.dropbox.com/s/wm1l68l56tfa8bc/BotL%20Showcase.pdf?dl=0


    p
    .s If this is in the wrong spot, please let me know.


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    Junior Member simison's Avatar
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    K'awil & Daer'dd.jpg

    Dear'dd, the giant Primarch of the VIth, and K'awil, Primarch of the XVth, sharing a brotherly moment.

    And a little story of the Warmaster from his first battle against the Orks. For newcomers to BotL, the Warmaster's full name is Alexandros Darshan VonSalim, and the Storm Riders is the name of his legion before he changed it.

    ~~~

    Roughly a kilometre east of the main chamber was a much smaller cave. Long and narrow, it had two entrances, much like a standard hallway but was wide enough to fit three land raiders side by side. That is were it not for the lack of a floor for half the chamber. The center of the chamber had formed into a thin walkway over a chasm due to some recent seismic activity. The pit was ninety-six metres deep, well past the point of lethality without some kind of grav device or jump pack, and Darshan could already see corpses littering the bottom, most of them in Storm Rider grey. Only two spots in the room had cover in the form of stalagmites, one group near the marines' entrance, while a second bunch sat next to the walkway on the Ork side. Behind that cover, the Orks had deployed three tanks, all converted Leman Russes, Darshan noted. From their position of cover, they rained fire on any Storm Rider assault and, with a couple of plasma cannons, rendered even breacher marines a risky prospect. The tanks were supported by several heavy weapon, or loota, squads and more storm boyz itching for a fight.

    9th Company was represented by four breacher squads, a recon squad, two missile launcher support squads, and three assault squads. None of them were at full strength, and most of them were holding behind their cover or waiting in the hallway connected to the entrance. Through the west wall, Darshan sensed two more squads who were cutting through the rock, while their brothers held the Orks' attention. They would succeed, but only after a lengthy period of time. Darshan reached out to his sons and quickly located the current commanding officer: Delegatus Skarzeni.

    he shard of Darshan hovered next to Skarzeni, who was briefing his sergeants. "Mag!" Skarzeni barked. "Why is that yellow Nob still alive? I've had Xer's and Echeyer's squads give you cover twice now."

    Magnold shook his head as he reloaded his sniper rifle. "Just pure chance, Skar. One of my men had a bead on it when it punched one of the smaller ones directly into the line of fire. A half-second before, that greenskin would be breathing through a new hole in its skull."

    "Well, it isn't, and it's still directing that loota squad," Skar groused. "You know those beasts are brutes in close combat, I want it dead long before Narcariel's squad breaks through."

    Skarzeni.

    With a tight discipline borne of hours of fruitful training, every Storm Rider aimed every weapon at the empty space that the shard occupied. "Identify!" Skarzeni shouted out. Although it required extra effort, Darshan could see their unsettled auras. With a moment's concentration, the shard manifested itself a ghostly copy of his physical body.

    Stand down, lieutenant.


    The Storm Riders bowed. Auras shifted from distrust to a mixture of bewilderment and awe, while Skarzeni's changed to a bright, embarrassed orange. "My apologies, my lord."

    You have nothing to apologize for, Skarzeni. Your discipline is commendable. I come bearing a message: take your unit and prepare to assault in three minutes and nineteen seconds.

    There was an uncomfortable pause as Skarzeni pictured his men dying in a futile assault as he hoped his gene-sire had a plan. Although he wanted to protest, he instead said, "As you command, my lord."

    Be prepared, you will have a signal at the appropriate time.


    Darshan's 'ghost' shimmered out of sight before the shard flew back over to the Ork lines. He hovered above the center tank for a moment before the shard split into three. The three spirits took their positions above each Ork tank. Each of them quickly saw the sham, patchwork repairs to get the vehicles operational. One Leman Russ' fuel line was severed in three places. Another's motor ran dangerously hot as flames haphazardly shot out the rear exhaust pipes. In each case, the sole reason that any of the tanks were running was because the Orks believed they were, their collective faith protecting the tanks from the consequences of their own internal damage.
    That principle worked in reverse.

    Each of the shards stealthily invaded the thoughts of the Ork crews. As the seconds passed by, Darshan introduced new thoughts. Wariness at the lack of a fight. Suspicion at the absence of the Space Marines. Concern at the unnatural rumbling of the vehicles. Little by little, Darshan chipped at their confidence and their faith. A thirty seconds before Skarzeni was to attack, Darshan judged their minds ripe for his last step. It was simple.

    He showed each Ork an image of their tank exploding.

    It lasted a second. It was all the time he needed. The ruptured fuel line caught fire which quickly spread throughout the new steel coffin. An engine exploded before secondary explosions obliterated the center tank. The last tank's turret ruptured when the loaded shell jammed on a piece of metal in the barrel. Burning Orks hopped out of the burning Russ as they screamed in agony.

    Darshan grinned.

    With the anchors of the Ork lines annihilated, panic spread through the ranks. Nobz roared out questions as their underlings swiveled in every direction, searching for what destroyed their heavy support. The three shards merged back into one before it floated over to the nearest loota squad. It had been too close to one of the tanks and had lost a few Orks to shrapnel. Out of the all remaining Orks, this mob burned the brightest hue of panicky orange. To them, Darshan whispered a single word into their fearful minds. Ghost.
    "THIS PLACE IZ HAUNTED!" One of the Orks bellowed before lumbering away in fear.

    The nearby Nob shouted, "Gitz backs here! There's no such t'ing as ghosts!"

    "We can't fightz no ghosts with just dakka," another Ork whispered fearfully.

    "OI!" The Nob roared as he whirled onto the offending Ork. "Wha' did I just say? Dere's. No. Such. T'ing. As. GHOSTS!"

    Darshan couldn't resist indulging himself. His spirit took a spot behind the Nob. Slowly, he appeared as a shining orb of energy, hovering above the ground. As he manifested, one by one, the Lootas noticed him and cowered, their ammo rattling as they shuddered with terror.

    Ignorant of the glowing light behind him, the Nob swung his eyes over them. "What'cha all lookin' at?"

    The nearest Ork pointed a shaking finger.

    The Nob turned around.

    He froze.

    Mentally guffawing, Darshan enjoyed a dramatic pause before he said...

    "Boo."

    The Nob stampeded over his own boyz as he screamed, the lootas right behind him as they fled the cave.

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