The Storm Dragons Chapter

[Olgerth Istaarn]

Storm Dragons Space Marine Chapter




+ Tactical +++++++ Assault ++++ Specialist ++++ Devastator ++++ Terminator +

Chapter Founding: Circa 215.M31
Geneseed: Unknown. No genetic defects prior to the Great Shame.
Base of Operations: Space Fortress The Dragonspire
Homeworld: A currently uncatalogued system, referred to as The Verdant Beyond in the Chapter’s writings.

Battlecry:
“We Soar on Wings of Fire! – We Bring His Will!”
Chanted repeatedly during a charge; the commander shouts “We Soar on Wings of Fire!” and the troops respond “We Bring His Will!”

Characters of Note:

Storm Dragons Chapter Council

Olgerth Istaarn
Chief Librarian and Chapter Master

Stanislav Stygir
Task Force Commander, Beta

Artorias Merkadas
Task Force Commander, Gamma

Christopher Luthor
Master of Sanctity

Boris Romanov
Senior Techmarine

Vladmir Kagan
Master Chirurgeon; Head of the Apothecarion

Alexander Strahan
Former Chapter Master; entombed in a Venerable Dreadnought

Chapter Bondsmen Leaders

Alexander Kolchak
Master of the Fleet; Captain of the Dragonspire

Gerhard Kotovsky
General; Commander of the Bondsmen Guard

Rostislav Agathon
Fabricator General

Hel’norath
Master Navigator

Lady Katariah Idaros
Mistress of Astropaths

Others

Lady Saralen Kurzman
Radical Ordo Hereticus Inquisitor

-------------------+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++-------------------

“We honor our Lord and Creator, the Immortal Emperor, who stands above all and guides us into our battles. We honor our Father whose face is hidden from us. We honor our Lady the Protector, by whose grace and wisdom our hands are unstained, and by whose works our Path is unobstructed. We honor the Bondsmen, for their tireless toil gives us our Tools. We honor our Duty, for it gives us Purpose.”

-Christopher Luthor, Master of Sanctity of Storm Dragons

A secretive and elusive Chapter, the Storm Dragons cannot boast the notoriety gained by some of their Astartes brothers. It is a necessity however; for the secrets that the crimson-armoured warriors keep would’ve led to condemnation by lesser minds long ago, diverting them from their righteous path into betrayal at best, and into oblivion at worst.

A crusading Chapter, the Storm Dragons base their operations primarily from a mobile space fortress The Dragonspire. They forever seek new threats to the Imperium, lending their might to beleaguered defenders of besieged worlds, or decapitating emerging dangers with swift and precise surgical strikes. Much of their crusading is done at the behest of Lady Saralen Kurzman, a radical Inquisitor to whom the Chapter owes an Honor Debt.

Origins of the Chapter

Much is lost to us, but we shall not look to the past. We were there before the Great Shame, and that will suffice. Our true strength was forged by impossible odds and dire circumstance; that which brought us our greatest dishonor has spurred us on to achieve greater strength. As the Emperor alone decides when to grant us His Peace, he too will decide when to reveal to us the face of our Father – and only then shall our atonement be complete.”

- Olgerth Istaarn, Chapter Master and Chief Librarian of Storm Dragons

Sometime in the first quarter of M31, a new Space Marine Chapter was founded, its recruits coming from worlds of no particular note to form a fighting force that staunchly adhered to the tenets of the Codex Astartes.

Whatever accomplishments were garnered by the Storm Dragons in the first two millenna of their existence are now lost, either through vagaries of fate or perhaps deliberately stricken from the Chapter records. Unknown also are the names of their founding Chapter and of their Primarch; the Marines refer him only as Our Father whose face is hidden from us. Being thus deprived of knowing their true ancestry, Storm Dragons hold the Emperor in higher regard than most Space Marines do, and venerate him with greater zeal. It should be noted that some of the older wargear possessed by the Storm Dragons bears a winged sword motif; it is most prominently displayed upon the hulls of the Chapter's dreadnoughts. Whether this is a mere coincidence, a tribute to the Chapter's past or perhaps indicative of a much more sinister connection is known to but a few chosen.

The Chapter’s true formative events came sometime in M38, during a routine reinforcement of a Forgeworld system that was threatened by a Chaos invasion force. The ensuing calamity brought the Storm Dragons to the brink of oblivion, nearly wiping them out. But the Chapter endured, forged anew, though branded with a stigma that would soon become the source of their greatest strength, but also condemn them to the perpetual existence wrapped in shadows and secrets.

Those events are to this day known as The Great Shame.

The Great Shame
We fought as best we could – that testament is written in blood upon that battlefield. But doing your best and failing is still a failure; that is our shame; and for that, we carry our penance.

- Alexander Strahan, former Chapter Master of the Storm Dragons

Concealed within mineral-rich asteroid fields of the Kharridan system was an Imperial Forgeworld designated Kharridan IV. Four great Mobile Forges orbited the bleak hive world, titanic and extremely rare spaceships each carrying entire manufacturing facilities on board. Below, deep underneath the smoke-wreathed surface, Adeptus Mechanicus guarded an even greater secret – an STC that, while incomplete, held within it blueprints of many rare and prized technologies pertaining both to Space Marine wargear and spacecraft construction.

When a roving Chaos fleet suddenly changed direction, making for Kharridan system with great speed, its inhabitants had little time to prepare. Still, planetary defense forces were assembled, reinforced by the Skitarii, and, at the last moment, with the forces of an entire Space Marine Chapter – the Storm Dragons. A defense fleet was mustered – and when Chaos Lord Yismar’s fleet finally emerged in realspace, the Forgeworld’s defenders were ready.

It became clear from the outset that they were overmatched. Somehow, by the time Yismar’s fleet arrived, it more than tripled in size, picking up reinforcements along the way. The invasion force battered its way through the Forgeworld fleet, and the invasion of Kharridan IV began in its earnest.

For weeks, battles raged all across the Forgeworld. Imperial defenders, while outnumbered, had technological advantages on their side; and lightning raids by Storm Dragons crippled many of the Chaos Lord’s vessels, eventually depriving him of the ability to perform full-scale planetary strikes.

But the desperate defense of Kharridan IV soon started to crumble underneath the weight of the invaders’ superior numbers. Storm Dragons had suffered heavy losses, and were forced to adopt new tactics not approved by Codex Astartes to compensate. But even their military ingenuity wasn’t enough to stave off the inevitable.

Posted in part on the surface and in part on the orbiting Mobile Forges, the Space Marines did their best to repel the endless stream of Chaos Lord’s forces. On Kharridan IV, the slaughter was unimaginable. It is written that Alexander Strahan, then-Master of the Storm Dragons, confronted the Fabricator General who was making hurried preparations to take the Mobile Forges away from the doomed system, rescuing the Mechanicus assets but leaving the world’s dwindling population behind. No one knows what exactly was said behind closed doors, but the Fabricator General was properly humbled. A plan was announced for worldwide evacuation, where a fleet of surviving ships and the Mobile Forges would carry away not just Adeptus Mechanicus, but everyone else who made it to the spaceports.

While preparations were made for evacuation, Yismar redoubled his attacks. This time however, even regular citizens of the Forgeworld took up arms, and stood together with the Skitarii, the Guard and the battle-brothers of the Storm Dragons. Such was their tenacity that the Chaos Lord flew into a rage, and ordered his coven of sorcerers to conjure a Warp rift to engulf the entire Kharridan system in a Warp Storm.

Chief Librarian Istaarn sensed the Warp echoes and warned the defenders of the Chaos Lord’s plans. A strike force was hastily put together, utilizing the newly developed short-range teleportation technology, and the Storm Dragons launched a desperate last-ditch attack on Yismar’s flagship. At great cost in lives, they were successful in penetrating the ship’s defenses, and reached the ship’s bridge.

The Chaos Lord and his coterie of defenders fought fiercely, Yismar himself wielding a great and profane sword that seethed with energies of Chaos. Alexander Strahan faced the Chaos Lord in single combat. Strahan’s sword was soon broken in half, but the Chapter Master would not be denied. Though grievously wounded, Strahan launched himself at the Chaos Lord, wrestled his sword away from him, and then used the foul blade to decapitate its former owner.

With Yismar’s death, Chaos taint fell away from the blade, revealing an exquisitely forged Force Sword of obviously Imperial origins. Strahan held the weapon high and issued a mighty battlecry that cowed those who remained of the Chaos Lord’s coterie; Strahan’s companions fell upon them and slaughtered every last one of the foul warriors. Only then did the Chapter Master allow himself to collapse under the weight of his many injuries.

But for all glory of their victory, the Storm Dragons were late. Just as Olgerth Istaarn, the Chief Librarian, led his squad into the ritual space where the Chaos Sorcerers writhed and chanted, the Warp rift appeared and began to widen. Istaarn slew the sorcerers, but it was in vain; the Warp Storm engulfed the system, consuming the Chaos fleet, the fleeing civilian vessels, the Chapter’s remaining vessels, and the four Mobile Forges that everyone fought so hard to protect…

To Be Continued...

[Olgerth Istaarn]

Interlude. In the Halls of the Shadow

Olgerth Istaarn’s armoured fingers closed around the hilt of his new force sword as he took another step towards a great blast door that stood between him and his next objective.

Behind him were two and a half squads’ worth of Storm Dragons, arrayed into an assault formation and with weapons at ready, but the nearly palpable tension that emanated from the Space Marines wasn’t the result of the normal Astartes pre-battle conditioning. Istaarn’s stomach lurched at the realization that even though it wasn’t exactly despair, it was damned close to it.

They had all seen what he had seen; some more, most less – after all, being a psyker, he was more susceptible to the Empyrean’s depredations. Earlier, he had caught a glimpse of his own reflection while donning his old artificer-forged armour, and immediately ordered helmet discipline for everyone. He had no doubt that behind the crimson ceramite and glowing optics, every man had to face his own private hell – but at least they were isolated from one another to a degree, unable to spread the contagion of sickly, unfamiliar emotions that normally haunted no Astartes.

Despair. Fear. We have seen what no man should see and live, felt what no man should feel and remain sane.

But they would endure. They were Astartes. And thus, the grim task of cleansing the space hulk fell to them, because when even the sturdiest Skitarii cyborgs could do no more than cower, wail and shed pitiful tears, the Storm Dragons could stand up and fight.

The Mobile Forges and the civilian fleet were no more. Instead, a vast, twisted construct slowly tumbled in vacuum, torn from the Warp back into realspace near a star system Emperor only knew where, or when. Istaarn’s own memories of what transpired after the Warp Storm hit were tarnished at best, the few lucid moments containing images of both inimitable heroism and unspeakable horror. When Warp currents slammed the Forges and the fleet together into one planetoid-sized clump of metal, some of the Gellar Field generators miraculously endured. And thus, in some sections of the newly formed hulk, people survived while in others Warp consumed them and their surroundings alike. Those areas, like the one beyond the blast door, had to be cleansed.

Istaarn unsheathed the sword and thumbed the activation rune. This was a good weapon; an ancient one that survived many owners and even Chaos taint. Chapter Master Strahan handed it to the Librarian before lapsing into a coma, as a replacement for Istaarn’s own shattered staff. Fortunately, the surviving techpriests in their area had enough expertise to attune the new weapon’s circuitry to Istaarn’s psychic signature. They also nursed his old suit of artificer armour back to working condition. A poor substitute for Istaarn's usual Terminator armour, its Aegis circuitry sparked and fizzed with feedback, and the machine spirit rolled out litanies of complaints with every motion. But the Tactical Dreadnought lay wrecked while the ancient suit functioned and provided protection, and it was all the Librarian could ask for at the moment.

Hefting the glowing weapon, Istaarn hacked at the blast door, the power blade passing through ceramite and metal like a hot knife through butter. After a dozen cuts, the great dark slab wobbled precariously. Istaarn motioned with his left hand, telekinetically shoving the blast door forward, until it caved and collapsed into the space behind it with a great tortured groan.

The area beyond was dimply lit in red, wavering light. Flesh covered the walls of a cavernous, cathedral-like space – bleeding muscle, writhing skin, jutting spurs of bone. Faces were in the flesh, twisting and blind, and they keened and warbled and moaned all together, weaving a melody that resonated in the air, the floor, and every joint of the Space Marines’ armour.

“Flamers to the fore! Cleanse and purify!” – They advanced, and Istaarn was once more glad of the helmet discipline, because the vox caster hid the dry, almost broken quality that he knew his voice now had. Shadows darted from the red-tinted darkness, lithe, nude and vaguely female, springing forward on bare feet, hooves, claws and skittering spider legs. The Astartes met the charge with customary precision, and soon the profane cathedral was filled with screeches, roar of chainblades, bark of bolters and crackle of flesh being cooked and vaporized in streams of promethium.

Istaarn forged on, towards the center, where some sort of an altar or a throne rose up like twisted petals of a nightmare flower. Upon it sat a gargantuan female, naked save for an array of barbed jewelry that adorned her muscular frame, almost as tall and broad as an Astartes in full power armour. Her face was grotesquely distended into the likeness of a beast, complete with thin, swooping antlers that protruded from her temples.

The creature made no move as the Librarian approached it, and only when he was almost within striking distance, it spoke.

“Why do you come to me once again, little witch? The feast is over for now; we reflect and wait upon the oblivion to come and claim us, so that we may feast once more.”

A step. Then another.

“Tell me: do you desire my company once again so soon?”

Unsteady hum of the Aegis circuitry. Faltering glow of the psychic hood.

“Tell me, little witch: why do you disturb our ruminations? I have already seen you in the halls of the shadow. I heard you renounce your pathetic corpse god a thousand times over. I saw you dance with the Changer of Ways, and he strung you along like the puppet you are. I witnessed you drink the blood of those you slew, and laugh. I watched you wallow in your own excrement. I saw you lay with the child-whores of Slaa…”

A stroke of lightning-wreathed blade interrupted the creature’s rant, neatly decapitating her. Istaarn swung again, opening the female’s torso from the collarbone to the pubic bone, and then once more, bisecting her through the abdomen. A shower of foul blood, organs and meat flopped all around the grotesque throne, and it was over.

The cathedral of flesh was ablaze around them. Istaarn surveyed his warriors as they finished killing the last of the room’s inhabitants, and saw that every man stood a fraction firmer, as if a weight was lifted from their shoulders. The Librarian drew himself up to his full height and stabbed the burning blade of his force sword into the darkness above.

This is what we do. Thus we shall be saved. We might not be the Grey Knights, but we will endure.

[Sholto]

This is solid, meaty stuff. I cannot see anything wrong in terms of mechanics (although "Roaming the space aboard their mighty space fortress" could use a bit of work). I guess I am waiting for that spark of 'wow' to set this Chapter apart from the others, as at the moment it has a troubled history but not yet an intruiguing or tantalising one.

I like the apparent affiliation with the Mechanicus, though. You can't go wrong with the Tech Priests, imho

Sholto

[Olgerth Istaarn]

His Clandestine Gift

His Gift illuminates our Duty. Our Duty strengthens our Purpose. And as we may not speak of the Gift, we shall let our Purpose speak instead. For it was He who wrote it in our very flesh.
- Vladimir Kagan, Master Chirurgeon of Storm Dragons

After months of drifting through the system where it reverted from the Warp, the space hulk carrying survivors of Kharridan IV was captured in the gravitational pull of the third planet.

During that time, the majority of the hulk was gradually cleansed. As the surviving Storm Dragons made their way through the twisted metal labyrinths, they discovered other survivors: techpriests, civillians, Space Marines and Skitarii. The Chapter had paid a heavy price; barely a company and a half of Storm Dragons remained. All but two Company Commanders perished; the scouts of the Tenth Company and the entire Librarium with the exception of Olgerth Istaarn were likewise lost, along with many technological and military assets of the Chapter. Master Alexander Strahan lay in a coma, confined to a modified Dreadnought sarcophagus, with Istaarn acting in his stead.

There was still hope for the Space Marines, however; for Vladmir Kagan, the Master Chirurgeon of the Chapter not only survived, but protected a large cache of Storm Dragons’ geneseed.

Other survivors of the Forgeworld included less than one million civilians that were judged untouched by the Warp and allowed to live; remnants of Kharridan PDF and Skitarii forces numbering less than ten thousand. The Techpriest elite, including the Fabricator General, survived in their majority and set about reclaiming any salvageable spacecraft to prepare for a planetary drop.

The Emperor’s grace was upon the survivors of Kharridan; for the third planet of the star system was a lush, verdant world more than acceptable for human habitation. The Hulk Kharridan was not the first one to approach it; two more similar conglomerates orbited the planet, one of them bearing obvious traces of Orkoid technology, but apparently uninhabited.

First probes revealed a nearly feral human civilization on the surface of the planet, apparently of pure and untainted genestock. These humans were slowly being pushed to the brink of extinction by an equally feral, but much more numerous population of Orks.

As the condition aboard the space hulk rapidly deteriorated, preparations were made to abandon it. A stream of barely-spaceworthy craft made it for the planet's largest continent, carrying people and whatever technology could be salvaged. Soon, a makeshift city emerged on a large plain, and first contacts were made with the feral humans, who regarded the newcomers as gods.

The Ork response to the planetfall was not far behind. Massing in numbers greater than thought possible, the greenskins savagely assaulted the new arrivals and the indigenous population alike. The Orks were crudely armed, but what they lacked in technology they made up with sheer numbers and the presence of feral psykers in their midst. Within a week, the entire continent was embroiled in a planetary-scale waaagh.

Once more, the Storm Dragons were at the forefront of fighting, their numbers suffering further as fighting took its toll. Spurred on by guilt after losing the Forgeworld, the Space Marines fought fiercely, compensating their small numbers with surgical striking and ingenious tactics. As Storm Dragons eliminated Ork leaders and their hardened mobs, lesser greenskins lost their cohesion and resolve, and became relatively easy prey for both Skitarii units and the feral humans.

It was then that Vladmir Kagan discovered Emperor's Clandestine Gift to the Chapter.

As the Space Marine casualties were brought to him for geneseed extraction and burial, the Master Chirurgeon noticed bizarre changes occurring in the bodies of deceased battle-brothers. Each one seemed to be losing weight and muscle mass rapidly, while their injuries slowly, but surely repaired themselves. Intrigued, Kagan injected the bodies with an experimental cocktail of nutrients and stimulants. This stemmed the muscle loss and sped up the healing process; and in three days, the previously dead battle-brothers came back to life.

It was immediately apparent that this re-awakening was monstrously painful even for an Astartes. Despite liberal application of pain balms, each revived warrior was reduced to screaming, thrashing, gibbering wreck and had to be restrained for hours. But gradually, pain appeared to subside, and the Marines once more became lucid; none of them remembered the moments immediately preceding their deaths, and some complained of minor memory loss, but otherwise they appeared to be healthy enough to be cared for and eventually return to duty.

This proved to be the Chapter’s salvation, but also a source of much distress. Kagan’s further investigations revealed that the miraculous ability stemmed from the mutation of the sus-an membrane organ in every Marine. Similar mutation afflicted every sample of extracted geneseed. The mutation did not guarantee the return from death every time; in some later casualties, the post-mortem process never began and they simply remained dead. And without proper nutrient and stimulant supply, the Marine’s body would eventually consume itself trying to repair its fatal injuries. A battle-brother thus uncared for would eventually be reduced to a skeleton wrapped in skin and withered meat, and never fully wake up, instead trapped in a nightmarish, pain-filled coma until Emperor’s Peace was granted to him.

Thus the Storm Dragons became mutants - the very things they were trained to despise and destroy. It was only through fiery sermons of Christopher Luthor that the moral health of the Chapter was preserved. He named the mutation the Emperor’s Clandestine Gift, and impressed it upon his brothers that it was the means to their redemption as well as the penance for losing Kharridan IV. From now on, none of the Storm Dragons would find Emperor’s Peace in battle; their duty would not end in death. Until such time that the Emperor judged it appropriate, they would return to life in throes of pain and carry on their sacred mission. To regard this mutation otherwise would be to throw a second chance at survival into their Creator’s face.

After much prayer and contemplation, the Chapter’s survivors came together and swore an oath of secrecy; no living creature outside the Chapter would ever learn of the Clandestine Gift. Each Marine’s armour was then fitted with a dead-man’s switch. If a battle-brother’s hearts stopped and he was not recovered from the battlefield in twelve hours, or the armour was unlocked without proper procedures only known to the members of the Chapter, a small infernos charge would incinerate the Marine’s body, preventing anyone from uncovering the Chapter’s greatest secret.

To Be Continued...

[Olgerth Istaarn]

From the Ashes

After two and a half years of fighting, the Orkoid infestation was largely suppressed, and a measure of peace descended upon the survivors of Kharridan IV. For the Storm Dragons, that meant not simply respite but survival. Even with the aid of the Clandestine Gift, the Storm Dragons were now at below one company’s strength, and that the battered Chapter could finally begin rebuilding itself.

The Chapter command formally passed to Olgerth Istaarn, and Alexander Strahan was entombed in the Chapter’s only functional Dreadnought. The chassis was brought down from the Hulk Kharridan during the initial planet drop, and retained just enough functionality to preserve the former Chapter Master’s life and fight. Its damaged weapons replaced with makeshift armaments, Dreadnought Strahan fought many battles against the Orks, and could now finally slumber and recuperate.

Before rebuilding could begin however, events took an unexpectedly violent turn. The Fabricator General demanded that the planet’s largest continent was turned into a production center; Istaarn, on the other hand, opposed the plan, wanting to allow the indigenous human population and its environment to remain as unmolested as possible. According to the Librarian’s plan, the survivors – or at least the Adeptus Mechanicus operations – would be shifted to the cold and sparsely populated northern continent instead. The Fabricator General, thinking the Chapter to be weakened beyond recovery, rallied several Skitarii units and attempted a revolt. In response, Istaarn personally apprehended the Fabricator General, single-handedly overcoming the techpriest guard, and publicly executed him for treason. Fortunately, the vast majority of survivors immediately sided with the Space Marines, and further bloodshed was avoided. Istaarn then appointed a young, brilliant techpriest Rostislav Agathon as the new Fabricator General. Thus the authority of the Emperor’s Finest was firmly reestablished, never to be challenged again.

More years passed as the survivors claimed the territory on the northern continent of the world they came to call the Verdant Beyond. A permanent city was built, and many spacecraft repaired; this allowed for technology recovery from the orbiting space hulks. The Chapter finally began replenishing its numbers, drawing recruits from the indigenous human population. It was clear, however, that they were cut off from the Imperium; for even the best Navigators could hear the Astronomican choir no more.

Nevertheless, eventually construction began in orbit: an enormous spacecraft was to be built, to carry the Chapter and anyone wishing to join them away from Verdant Beyond and on a search for the Imperial space. The construction took over fifty years – still far less than it would take even the greatest Imperial shipwrights, and mostly because the ambitious Rostislav Agathon authorized liberal use of existing technology found aboard the orbiting hulks. A vast portion of it undoubtedly was Xeno in origin; but considering their current predicament, neither the Space Marines, nor the techpriests offered much by the way of objection. What emerged in the end was a vast and mighty Space Fortress that, in addition to its armaments, also carried a rebuilt Mobile Forge, whose components were painstakingly culled from the Hulk Kharridan.

In these years, much had changed for the survivors of the Forgeworld. Many grew old and died; but a new generation was brought up as the newcomers and the indigenous humans intermingled. Being far from the oppressive hand of Mars – and thus quite unrestrained in his methods – Fabricator General Rostislav Agathon paved the way for many technological advances that would’ve been unthinkable on Kharridan IV. The northern continent was transformed into a bleak industrial wasteland; but, according to Istaarn’s command, incursions into the southern continent were minimal. A new generation of soldiers and techpriests grew alongside with the recovering Chapter, and many aspired to take to the stars together with the Space Marines when the time came.

The Chapter had also changed. From surviving the hardships and the many battles fought together fostered friendships and respect normally unseen between the Emperor’s Finest and regular humans. The Chapter’s veterans were still haunted by loss of so many of their charges during the Kharridan disaster, and impressed it upon the new recruits that their first and foremost duty was the protection of Imperial citizens. It was also decided that should contact with the Imperium ever be reestablished, the Verdant Beyond would remain hidden until such time that its inhabitants would no longer have to fear the suspicion and wrath of the overzealous Inquisitors.

The Space Fortress that would become the Chapter’s new home was dubbed the Dragonspire; and on the eve of its completion, the Emperor granted his long-suffering servants another miracle. Hel’norath, the oldest surviving Navigator, received a vision in his sleep that helped him divine a course through the Warp anomalies that surrounded the Verdant Beyond system. A scout craft was sent ahead, and after two months of short-range jumps, the navigators aboard could once again see the blessed light of the Astronomican, if only faintly.

Preparations began for the Chapter to depart. As the Storm Dragons boarded the enormous spacecraft, with them came numerous aspirants who wished to join the Space Marines in their new crusades. From mere servants to newly trained artificers, pilots and soldiers, many wished to stand alongside the Emperor’s Finest and see the Imperium that, until now, only existed in the survivors’ stories. Before the Dragonspire departed, a gathering was held within its largest hall, and everyone who joined the Space Marines on their journey was formally inducted into the Chapter. They would be serfs and servants no longer; instead, they were dubbed the Bondsmen. These Bondsmen would be treated as junior members of the Storm Dragons, each trained in combat, sworn to the same vows of secrecy and loyalty and privy to much of the Chapter’s secrets. This symbolic gesture did much to foster the undying – and unquestioning - loyalty that exists between the Space Marines of the Storm Dragons and their auxiliaries to this day.

At last, the Dragonspire departed the orbit of the Verdant Beyond and headed to the Imperial space…

To Be Continued...

[Nurizeko]

*Claps, genuinely impressed*

Niiiiiiiice!

Love the story so far.

Oh and what did you use to create those colour-schemes, is it some army creator program or did you just photoshop some black and white line-art images?.

Keep it coming, very nice stuff, the first chapter fluff in ages I've read and actually found somewhat interesting.

[Olgerth Istaarn]

Interlude. Unstained Hands.

Saralen Kurzman stood barefoot on the cold tiles of her private observatory, peering into the starfield beyond. The Inquisitor often found the deceptively quiet, velvet darkness of space a potent remedy against spiritual turmoil. Now, however, a massive shape obscured a good portion of it, forbidding and impenetrable. Whether she wanted it or not, it was her problem now, and its brazen invasion of her private meditation area seemed to taunt her.

She closed her eyes and drew a slow, deep breath, bathing in the darkness and starlight. For the millionth time, she wished that her mentor was still alive – not because she was unsure of herself, but because Saralen Kurzman wanted the woman who had taught her to witness things she thus far faced and overcome.

Relatively small in stature and deceptively youthful, Saralen took great care and pride in her appearance. By all measures, she was attractive – lithe, with shoulder-length strawberry blond hair and deep green eyes; and she knew full well how to look striking whether attired in a formal gown or the artificer-forged power armour. Hers was not a severe beauty that she saw in her Sisters of Battle, not the dark and startling appeal of Lady Jessk Marraine, her long-gone mentor. Saralen Kurzman radiated deceptive innocence, and used it to her advantage every chance she got. Around her, tongues tended to start wagging, defenses came down, and truth came to light – lately, more often than not the light was that of burning promethium.

Of course, appearance alone would not have done it. Saralen Kurzman was an accomplished psyker, and the pervasive aura of innocence was an innate power she possessed since early childhood. She developed, cultivated, and eventually mastered it – along with a few more abilities that came in handy in her line of work. Most recently, she put them to the test against a Chaos Marine sorcerer, whom she bested first in a psyker duel and then in personal combat. The victory almost cost her both legs and a terrific lightning claw wound across the back – which, thanks to the skills of her chirurgeons, was by now reduced to a rather impressive quartet of pale scars. In the end, the heretic had fallen and she had lived to hunt down his brethren – and that was all Saralen Kurzman could ask for.

What awaited her outside and across a short gulf of space would not be resolved by means as simple as combat. Large enough to dwarf a battleship, and studded with monstrous arrays of weaponry, the dark vessel could easily obliterate the Inquisitor’s flotilla in under a second and without taking a single hit. In fact, Saralen was quite sure that at least one of these cannons was pointed directly at her forehead right this moment, and somewhere within the bowels of the space-borne monstrosity, someone’s hand was hovering over the fire control console.

Nonsense, Jessk spoke up in the back of her mind, nonsense and you know it. As outmatched as you are right now, if they wanted you dead, you and everyone in your command would be dead ten times over already. As it stands, they want something that you can provide – so get to finding out what exactly it is, and how you can use it.

Saralen concentrated and reached. Her relationship with the Immaterium’s currents was somewhat unique; she skimmed the Warp lightly, treading upon it with the softest of touches, riding its swirls and eddies and masking her presence in the endless palette of colors for which there were no names. Her mental probes could be imperceptibly gentle – or they could carry a devastating psychic payload that ruptured brain cells, melted eyes and made the sturdiest men wail like terrified infants. This was the time for utmost subtlety.

The dark ship was vast, and densely populated. Saralen’s mind glided over the industrious hum of the crew; precise, machine-like thoughts of countless adepts of Mars – she briefly marveled at their number aboard the vessel; stoic and cold ruminations of Space Marines. Here and there minor psykers shimmered like candles against the wind; with some surprise, Saralen noted that all of them also gave off the same specific thought aura that was associated with loyalist Marines. Scouts, she realized; he’s got quite a Librarium in training there, and enough techpriests to populate a Forgeworld.

She still didn’t know who exactly “he” was. All communication between her and the Space Marines thus far was anonymous, albeit polite to a fault. She realized that, despite seeing quite a number of them earlier on the surface, she hadn’t noticed a single helmetless head.

It all began with the cleansing of a Chaos sect on Boreana VII. Saralen’s persistent probing finally drew the nascent cult into the open, and when the leaders finally revealed themselves, they had much more in terms of equipment and firepower than previously suspected. The ensuing battle ended with an appallingly high butcher’s bill for Inquisitor Kurzman’s already limited forces. Having just handed off the planet to the occupational Imperial Guard forces, Inquisitor Kurzman left for her base of operations with three ships, one platoon of storm troopers, and one and a half squads’ worth of Sisters of Battle that could still fight. One of the three ships had to be converted into a flying infirmary for the injured survivors; and another was barely patched up after a saboteur attack and needed a shipyard facility for full repairs. When a small, but vicious Warp Storm manifested during the first jump and flung the flotilla far off course, it was the last thing they needed.

The ships reverted to realspace above a bleak and dusty, but habitable world. After the forced planetfall – all three ships could barely contain their atmospheres now – the indigenous population made itself known.

They may have been human, hundreds of generations ago. Now, barely enough humanity remained about them to be called abhumans; these muscular, misshapen, fanged techno-barbarians. They arrived astride three-wheeled contraptions festooned with garish banners and a mishmash of weaponry; in primitive tanks that hurled great explosive charges from their monstrous cannons; and several times flocks of bizarre flying machines screeched overhead and dropped bombs that produced more noise and noxious smoke than actual destruction.

Fortunately for the battered Inquisitorial forces, the attacks lacked coherency. After a while, it became obvious that a number of clans were vying for the right to destroy and plunder the intruders, and on occasion Saralen's clever maneuvering brought two or more indigenous factions into conflict. After three days of fighting and back-breaking labour to get the grounded ships spaceworthy again, the hope of escape was all but snatched away when the techno-barbarians finally decided to stop squabbling and mustered an all-out attack.

Then great shadows passed overhead, and suddenly the bleak plain around the grounded ships was studded with towering figures in crimson armor. No drop pods touched down; the Space Marines simply appeared, as if out of nowhere. Lascannons skewered crude vehicles; a hail of bolter and plasma fire cut down scores of advancing abhumans, and Assault Marines descended from above to stand shoulder to shoulder with Saralen’s Sisters Seraphim. The techno-barbarians broke and ran, leaving scores of their dead and mountains of twisted metal behind, and then the Marines were gone just as suddenly as they appeared.

When the Inquisitor’s ships took to space a day later, the great and dark vessel that Saralen now faced awaited them in low orbit. Hails were exchanged; the Chapter called itself the Storm Dragons, and their ship the Dragonspire. Their livery – a red, lightning-wreathed dragon’s head on black field – was unfamiliar. The only information that the Inquisitor’s datastores turned up was a vague mention of a Chapter lost along with an ancient Forgeworld, over two thousand years ago.

And now, here they were.

Saralen continued her psychic sweep until she finally saw him. Where other psykers were dim flames, he was a beacon – a mighty fire wreathed in what she recognized as an aura of a psychic hood. She brushed lightly over his thoughts and recoiled; locked beneath the surface lay a memory so horrid and indescribable that it burned and offended Saralen’s every sense. She regained concentration and tried again, pushing past the clawing horror, and for a moment, his mind was laid bare to her. The mighty fire was a prison that contained the memory, a wall of intent and resolve so pure and strong it reminded Saralen of Grey Knights. Only a telepath could understand this; and only a telepath as brazen as her would dare to venture this deep into another psyker’s mind.

Of course, she was now trapped. She fought back, but the Librarian's own probes held on like a vise grip.

Let go,she managed, you may have me cornered, but even if you win this battle, I shall sunder the flesh from your bones and the very capability for thought from your mind with my dying breath. See me now; feel my power; know what I am capable of.

Surprisingly, he backed off. For a moment, she caught a glimpse of him in her mind’s eye – a tower of a man, his dimensions further augmented by a crimson and blue suit of Terminator armor. His voice was a distant rumble of thunder.

I see your strength, as you see mine. You saw but a glimpse of what we’ve seen; of what we fought and prevailed. Remain here, and let us speak in this place where there are no lies; because we serve the same cause, and I need your strength now to shield us just as ours shielded you before. I only ask for a chance for my men to serve once more with our hands unstained by the blood we do not wish to spill.

Saralen bristled.

I promise nothing. Mine is not to accept, or to forgive transgressions. Mine is to question and to discover truth.

For a heartbeat that lasted millenia they were silent. Then she said the only thing she could say under the circumstance.

But I see the scars of your battles, and feel no taint upon you. Therefore, I shall listen.

[Harlequin2]

Very juicy! But I'm too tired to read it all! But I'm sure it's amazing!

[Olgerth Istaarn]

New update! Witness the rebirth of the Chapter...

[Nurizeko]

Great update.

Makes me want to return to my own chapter and flesh it out a bit.


Good story.

[Olgerth Istaarn]

Storm Dragons Presently

After the fateful encounter with Inquisitor Kurzman's forces, the Dragonspire escorted the battered flotilla to the safe regions of the Imperial Space and vanished once more. Nobody knows what exactly transpired during the psychic dialogue between the two leaders, but it is cautiously whispered that the Inquisitor and the Librarian looked straight into each other's souls, and walked away with a measure of trust and mutual respect.

Over the years following the return of the Storm Dragons, the Chapter slowly and carefully insinuated itself back into the workings of the Imperium, thanks in no small part to Saralen Kurzman's aid. No one can precisely say what strings the Inquisitor pulled, and how much documentation was falsified. In the end, the prodigal Space Marines quietly slipped through one of the many cracks in the Imperial bureaucratic machine without raising too many questions.

The Chapter remains spaceborne, crusading in the outermost regions of the known space and staying away from the main Imperial thoroughfares. Storm Dragons are frequently seen coming to the aid of forgotten, remote human worlds long before the arrival of help requested through official channels. The Chapter also takes on missions given to them by Inquisitor Kurzman, battling all manner of Chaos threats on her behalf.

Every ten years, the Dragonspire vanishes, traveling back to the Verdant Beyond, where it remains for one standard year to receive repairs and reinforcements. No one outside of the Storm Dragons and the Bondsmen has ever set foot aboard the grand vessel, and no spaceship has ever been able to follow the mighty Space Fortress all the way back to the Chapter's new homeworld and survive the treacherous labyrinth of the warp anomalies that surround the system.

The Storm Dragons continue their servitude to the Emperor and the Mankind, shrouded in secrecy that is necessary to protect them, their charges and their missions.

[Olgerth Istaarn]

Small, and final, update.

[WiegrafFolles]

Very well written!

[titan136]

Very nice work, definitely one of the most capitvating pieces of non-official fluff I've read in a while. Love the the unique history and the genetic mutation that set the chapter apart.

Color scheme is a little generic for my taste but it doesn't take away from the cool history.

[Admrl Andrewski]

Well, I love the story very much, but I did see one problem.

"Every ten years, the Dragonspire vanishes, traveling back to the Verdant Beyond, where it remains for one standard year to receive repairs and reinforcements. No one outside of the Storm Dragons and the Bondsmen has ever set foot aboard the grand vessel, and no spaceship has ever been able to follow the mighty Space Fortress all the way back to the Chapter's new homeworld and survive the treacherous labyrinth of the warp anomalies that surround the system."

didn't you say the only way they got off the planet, was their lead navigator had a dream about the warp and which way to take? It seems unlikely to have these dreams every time they return... and given that the Warp is ever changing, it leaves them in a dilemma

[Olgerth Istaarn]

"Not being a psyker myself, I have very little insight into the matter... But somehow, the Navigators are able to find their way in and out every time after the course was plotted the first time around. They don't talk about it much... in fact, they don't talk about it at all, and even Master Istaarn doesn't seem to know exactly how they manage. It appears that when the Dragonspire approaches the anomaly-ridden area, the Navigators receive subtle hunches and instinctive impulses that help them guide the Fortress correctly every time. There are close calls sometimes, and they spell doom for the would-be spies, but prove to be our salvation.

We thank the Emperor and Our Father whose Face is hidden from us for small favours, and do not question them."

-Stanislav Stygir, Commander, Task Force Beta

Thanks for the compliments, too.

[holyknight]

Didn't start reading yet (will soon, be patient please ) but I thought “We Soar on Wings of Fire!" was said by the Raptors (in DOW at least)

Edit: VERY COOL! Just finished reading them, very fun indeed
Thinking about making some stories about my CHAOS guys. haha, BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!

[craNk]

Really cool

But the Chaptername has nothing to do with the history at all, or did i miss something?

[CorpseFire]

i am very impressed with your work man keep it up!!

[Olgerth Istaarn]

"We were named at the time of our Founding, long before the Great Shame. Perhaps our original homeworld warranted the naming, or our tactics, or perhaps the nature of the Chapter's first recruits. Regardless, none who live now can speak on the subject with any degree of certainty, and we do not look to the past. Our name and our livery is all that remains of what we were. But, it matters not what we were. We are new men, remade once more by the Grace of the Immortal Emperor and our Father, and we have forged a new path since."

-Christopher Luthor, Master of Sanctity

[nemesis646]

Loved the story, I might do my own sometime...

[mub]

Really well written, thought out and detailed story.

Read it from start to finish in one go :P

[Dooks Dizzo]

Very well thought out. Possibly the best Chapter backround we have on the boards at the moment.

[Olgerth Istaarn]

Aw, thanks. Couldn't get any feedback on this for the longest time, it's appreciated

[Angel K]

Very enjoyable read. Nicely done!

[Xenith]

Good background. Could I ask where you got the marine painter from for your pics? Much obliged. Xen

[Soul]

That was excellent to be honest im most impressed. I just read the whole story through while at work and i was amazed at how well written it is.

Not only that it is generally interesting great stuff oh and thanx

[billo]

Really well written. A captivating Chapter.

One question (and it's to do with your SM pics) - what is the little sensor array above the top of the Terminator marine?

[Olgerth Istaarn]

I guess that's the targeter that some Terminator models have... or at least that's how B&C chose to represent it in the SM Painter...

[billo]

Ok - cool. Thought so.