It was a cold, cloudless night on Arkhona, and amid the darkness rose one of the major Fortress-hives by the name of Arak. On one of the higher levels of the towering spires, stood a lone Dark Angel peering into the distance from one of the main balconies. Dressed in a highly decorated black ceremonial robe, stood the commander of one of the many Astartes formations currently campaigning on Arkhona, Azrael Mordred. He was staring aimlessly into the night sky, pondering, as was usual with him. It had been six months since the Last Wall Protocol was initiated combining the scattered remains of many Astartes formations, with Azrael as head of this new strike force, and even though the Aeldari activity had decreased and the orks were rarely seen in large formations, he was troubled, the mental and physical toll of leadership had begun to affect him. How many of his brothers had he seen fall to the temptation of chaos and the bolter shells of the traitors, the look of defeat he had seen in the eyes of his comrades, could it be that he was no longer suited to lead them, was he really doing what was best for his men? These and many other questions circled in his mind, but his concentration was broken by the sound of firm footsteps approaching. “Serious as always I see”, it was none other than his second in command, 1st Company Captain Dantos, an Imperial Fist who had been by his side since the very beginning. Azrael cracked a smile “I know, but I can’t help myself, the last few weeks haven’t been all that successful to be honest, and I just keep thinking that maybe we are doomed to fail just like so many others have, even Jackob.” The last few words left a mark of sorrow across his features. “That’s your problem, my friend, you think too much. We learn from our past mistakes and move on, if you keep yourself locked in the past then you will never be able to find success in the future. Cheer up, tonight is one for celebration, the men are waiting for you and you obviously need a few drinks. Come on.”

With that he turned around and headed off the balcony, Azrael followed close behind. As they walked towards the main chamber, they passed by the hall of memoirs, a place dedicated to preserving the trophies of the strike force’s best moments and achievements. Obviously, Dantos had done this on purpose, as a sly smile spread across his face, he turned around to face his friend and continued walking backward. “Tell me Azrael, does this look like doom and failure to you?” Azrael turned his gaze to the walls while they continued to walk. He first saw the skull of an Eldar Autarch encased in a glass box with the damaged banners of its war host surrounding it. The bone had been treated and polished to an incredible degree, and now it seemed as if it irradiated a light of its own. That trophy marked the day they, alongside their brothers from other formations, achieved victory on the battlefield against the warband known as Myriad Shrines. That had been a glorious day indeed, a memory that all those who participated would remember for many years to come. As they continued to walk down the hall, he then came across the massive painting commissioned by Dantos himself to commemorate their first promotion ceremony, where may exemplary neophytes took their place among the ranks of ELWP as full battle brothers, many of which still stood proudly alongside them. The artists had truly produced a magnificent work, the detail was incredible, depicting the battle brothers standing in order of seniority with perfectly polished armor, purity seals and Iron Halos on display. Most of the hall lay empty for the moment, the strike force was young, and so there were still many victories to be had. They were now approaching the end of the hall and Dantos finally turned back around, “You see Azrael, you’re too hard on yourself. Your greatest enemy is frequently your own thoughts, you’re a great leader and should never doubt that fact. Besides, I’m the one who is leading the guys on the front lines not you!” Azrael chuckled “Always so clever eh? Oh well, it is what it is sometimes. Thank you, brother.” “Don’t mention it, now don’t get all sentimental on me. Tonight, we feast!! With that, Dantos pushed open the massive doors to the main chamber. It was a sight to behold, the incredibly large room had a high gothic style ceiling lined perfectly with the newly made banners of the Epsilon Strikeforce and many other ornaments. The center of the room was dominated by a massive elongated table sitting all the Astartes present, at the very end was a single blazing hearth easily the size of the two dreadnoughts that stood beside it. The Astartes were dressed in plain ceremonial robes, and seated according to rank, the officers being closest to the doors, and the neophytes at the other end by the fire, only two seats closest to the doors remained empty. Nothing had been spared for the feast, Azrael had used his contacts among some of the Space Wolves that were present on Arkhona, and no less than 50 barrels of Fenrisian Ale had been acquired for the night. The table was filled to bursting with all manners of roasted meats, exotic foods and of course, very large jugs of ale. A far cry from the standard food rations they had grown used to while on campaign. The celebrations had already begun, and as soon as Azrael and Dantos entered the room their senses were overwhelmed with the smells of alcohol and crisp meat; along with the sounds of laughter, a roaring fire and, thanks to the ingenuity of techmarine Seth, the dreadnoughts had been modified with sound equipment and were blasting away the Phoenician by Fulgrim, the Emperors Children might have been traitors, but they had made some of the best music in the galaxy. As the two commanders approached the table, Apothecary and Guild Champion, Brother Verily British was already standing atop the table in a heated discussion with Interrogator Chaplain Leverian, “BUT FO REAAL BRO!! Everything is Alpharius roleplaying with himself, how do you know I’m not Alpharius, or maybe even you!” Leverian was already sweating, barely able to resist the urge to purge the heresy that spewed forth from his brother’s mouth, only tolerating it because he knew he was already drunk beyond belief, and he forced down another jug of ale to calm his inner rage. Just then British noticed the presence of his two superiors in the room “EYYYY BOYS you’re here!! Alpharius was waiting for you!" Dantos simply shook his head, “Alright British get down and have a seat for a moment.” The Apothecary complied, “Ok ok you’re the boss.” Dantos then turned to Techmarine Seth seated a couple rows down “Seth tone it down a bit, Azrael is here.”, the Techmarine dropped his drink and nodded, turning a nob on his armor which was resting a few meters from the table, and the music lowered. Azrael stepped up to the table, “Enjoying yourselves eh”, to which the marines replied raising their drinks and laughing in unison. “Good, now before we continue, I just wanted to thank you all. Not just for being here today, but for every second of battle and hardship we have endured together, for fighting side by side when the night was darkest. Today we celebrate not just our past achievements, but those that are still to come. To members both old and new, never lose your faith, in yourself, in your brothers, and in the goal, we all fight to achieve. Together, there is no enemy, no challenge, no abomination we can’t defeat!! Now drink with me! FOR BROTHERHOOD, FOR THE EMPEROR, FOR EPSILON!!” everyone lifted their drinks “FOR EPSILON!!” The halls rang with the booming voices of all those present, even the dreadnoughts joining in unison. “Now feast brothers!!” Azrael yelled out, Brother Seth took the signal and the music once more boomed out of the dreadnoughts. Azrael sat down followed by Dantos and surveyed the site before him. To his left sat Leverian, who was still barely supporting the heresy that British insisted in shouting to his face, only this time you could see he was clenching his fist tightly by his side, British will no doubt get what he deserves sooner or later. Following down the line, Apothecaries Ezra Tarrus and Carno were having a drinking game to decide who was the better field medic, seeing as they had tied in the healing competition during the last deployment, and the medical knowledge debate, and the most healing beacons used, and.. really who’s keeping count. Across from them, Chaplain Priest of Metal had left his seat to go talk with one the neophytes by the name of BeerMeer, they had become close friends over the last few battles and shared the same origins as they were both recruited from the same planet. Priest probably wanted to celebrate the upcoming promotion of Beer to full Battle brother status. Following down the line, Azrael couldn’t believe his eyes, Brother Seth had gotten up and was currently climbing atop the dreadnought of former Brother Reaper with a barrel of ale on his back. “Holy Emperor Seth, what are you doing!!” “He asked me for this Az!” And with that he proceeded to pour the contents of the barrel directly into the sarcophagus compartment of the dreadnought. “Seth have you gone mad!!” Azrael blared out, “Jajaja only a bit boss!” Suddenly the dreadnought began to shake, and the music was replaced with maniacal laughter, soon the massive machine was running sporadically across the room, never ceasing to laugh uncontrollably. “Oh boy that’s new!” Brother Seth yelled out as he fell off the dreadnought and laughed on the floor. The other two dreadnoughts quickly left their posts and desperately tried to restrain their comrade. Azrael gave a stern look to the Astartes currently rolling on the floor, he will have to talk with him later. The next Astartes at the table was Veteran Brother Belial, he was a quiet fellow and casually chatted with the brother seated next to him, Civil. They were both rather reserved, but managed to often find common grounds on many matters regarding the meaning of their struggles as Marines. Following them were Brothers Toots and Weeb seated across from each other. Weeb was very similar to British in that he loved to talk absolute heresy when he was drunk, but he knew the Leverian would never be able to get a confession since he would always simply outsmart his words, not even the depths of his dungeon posed a worry to him, because he would simply make Leverian think that it would be a waste of time to put him there. A sly brother indeed. Toots on the other hand was a Blood Angel, and thus never spoke any heresy even while drunk, but he too had his defects. He grabbed the giant knife used to cut the meat and proceeded to try and cut himself a piece, of course he had already had his fair share of ale and Weeb could already see what was coming. “Are you sure you want to do that” Weeb spoke out, “Why not!!” Toots replied, and slammed down the knife on the meat, but of course he had to cut a fourth of one of his fingers off in the process. “OH SHITT” he yelled as he pulled back and grabbed his bleeding hand, but before his Astartes blood could seal the wound, a few drops of blood managed to spill into his drink. “Oh well, I’ve had worse right! And so, he took a big gulp from his jug, but something was clearly wrong. When he tasted the ale he immediately dropped the jug and grabbed his throat “Oh please no, not that!!”, his eyes quickly turned red and he let out a primal roar. Right after that he jumped across the table and tackled Weeb to the ground, those two would be busy for a few hours, at least until Toots regained his sanity. And finally, at the end section of the table were seated the rest of the neophytes, the newest members of the strike force. In order, these were Grimloc, KandiusKane, Sparkelo, Thorfin skullspliter, Victus Flavion, Rauthu, Kyne Phasn, Drasos and Penguin. Most of them were still a bit reserved and didn’t mingle to much with the higher officers, preferring to chat amongst themselves of the trials they had already passed to come this far in their training, and what the feature might hold for them. Some, however, were already a lot more open, since they had already been selected to be promoted to full Battle Brothers during the next ceremony, and thus they excitedly had conversations on the bright feature ahead for them, drinking ferociously and having eating competitions between them.

And so, the table came to an end, and Azrael could not help but feel proud of how far they had come, these were truly what made ELWP what it was, his friends, his brothers.

Written by Dekra and Azrael Mordred.

The Light in the Darkness

Times were dire for the remaining Astartes on Arkhona. When the corruption that had spread through their ranks made itself known they were forced to retreat with all haste to the relative safety of the fortress-hives or risk total encirclement and annihilation. But this disorderly withdrawal had cost them dearly, most of their heavy support equipment had been left behind and many brothers had not made it back, by the time they reached the rally points there were barely two hundred Battle brothers remaining. They were but a shadow of their former strength, and the worst was yet to come.

The followers of the dark gods were never at rest, and within hours hordes of chaos cultists and heretical Astartes were charging towards the hive’s bulwarks. With no time to reorganize and resupply, no ground or air support, and cut off from their fleet elements in orbit, the Emperor's angels of death were now trapped, with no hope of escape and facing overwhelming odds. It was then that a ray of light pierced through the shroud of darkness, and it came in a most unexpected form. The Dark Angel referred to as Brother Jackob was quite young by Astartes standards, fresh out of the scout company he had his first combat drop as a part of a tactical squad when the strike force landed on Arkhona. Despite his youth, Jackob possessed a gift few other brothers had. His skill with the blade and bolter was only surpassed by his ability to inspire his comrades, he bore an aura of charisma and a natural talent for leadership. When the Astartes forces were in falling back to the hives, his squad found itself falling behind. They were crossing a canyon with all haste as the night closed in, when suddenly the sounds of the vox channel were drowned out by the howl of jump packs screaming through the sky. With blinding speed, the first raptor fell upon them ahead of the rest, driving his chainsword clean through the chest of the squad sargent on his way down. Jackob wasted no time to react, quickly taking aim with his bolter, he fired a salvo of bolts at the heretic but he had already moved, his super human speed augmented further by his jump pack. Thanks to his own genetic augmentation Jackob was able to deflect the first blow with his bolter as he drew his combat knife with the other hand, when the second blow was directed towards his head he dodged below it and instantly grappled the raptors helmet with one hand and with the other he drove his knife straight through the weak point at the neck, a perfect killing blow. Wasting no time, he withdrew his knife and barked out orders over the vox channel, “Brothers on me now!” as the Astartes formed a defensive circle around Jackob the other raptors were already upon them, a wall of bolter fire engulfed the incoming heretics and many fell but still they reached them and the situation quickly devolved into a fierce melee. With bolt pistol and blade Jackob charged at the raptors, stabbing one in the back of the head while he was about to deal the killing blow to one of his brothers and throwing a krak grenade at another, disintegrating him in a flash of light. Under his leadership they fought with zeal and fury and managed to beat back the traitors, only losing three brothers the process. There was no time to mourn the fallen, and the remaining seven Astartes continued their way back to the hives. Barely escaping encirclement, Jackob had brought his comrades to safety, or at least that’s what he thought.

The forces of chaos were already at their doorstep, the sky darkened and the screams of the heretics pierced the air, doom awaited them. But this was not to be, Jackob could not stand by and allow his brothers to die like this, if this was to be their end then he would have it be an end worthy of remembering. As the first wave of traitors neared the walls, Jackob climbed to the top of the bastions and his helmet amplified his voice to a deafening roar, “Brothers!! The day of reckoning is upon us!! But if this is to be our final hour, then let it be the finest moment of our lives, we are the bulwark against the terror, the defenders of humanity and we shall know no fear!!! For the Emperor!!!” and the entire Astartes line roared away, “For the Emperor!!” their voices so loud they drowned out the sound of the approaching hordes. With that Jackob jumped down and charged with chainsword and bolter in hand and the Astartes rallied to him, a fire had been ignited in every brother’s soul and they fought with unnatural strength, zeal and ferocity, more demigod then Space Marine. One son of Dorn in particular distinguished himself that day, brother Dantos was also a young Imperial Fist on his first campaign as a full battle brother. A spark had been ignited within him after witnessing Jackob charge ahead and he followed him into the fray without a second thought. Fighting bravely side by side with him, slaying the heretics as they tossed themselves upon them and guarding each other’s backs. Azrael from the Dark Angels also was present in the fighting and together they seemed as the Primarchs reborn. The forces of the Adeptus Astartes fought like demigods that day and against all odds, their ferocious charge broke the chaos advance, they had won the day, but only by a thread. A now gore covered and wounded Jackob overlooked the aftermath of the battle, the bodies of the fallen covering the battlefield like a carpet of death. There was no victory celebration that day, for even though they had won, it was only postponing the inevitable and Jackob knew this. Death was assured for the remaining Astartes unless they could receive reinforcements in time, but the warp storms and anomalies that had surrounded the system were preventing any call for aid from reaching the imperium. But these storms were not of ¨natural¨ causes, a Word Bearers sorcerer cabal had been channeling a ritual to keep these warp anomalies active and ensure the victory for chaos.
Jackob had seen the complex where the ritual was taking place when he was on the retreat with his squad and knew this would all be for nothing if they didn’t interrupt those sorcerers. This mission would require a small strike team to infiltrate and destroy the sorcerer’s ritual, since a larger force would be seen and never allowed to get near that complex. After receiving the most basic medical aid Jackob selected his most trusted and skilled brothers to be a part of the vital mission. Among those selected were Dantos, for his actions in the recent battle, and Azrael Mordred, for he was a close friend of Jackob and a valuable warrior. Under the cover of darkness, the squad of 10 Battle Brothers boarded one of the last operational Thunderhawks and disappeared into the night knowing the fate of every Astartes on Arkhona was now in their hands.

As they approached the landing site Jackob briefed his squad on the mission they were about to carry out. “Listen up brothers, our mission is simple, we must infiltrate the enemy complex and use the demolition charges we have to destroy the main spire where the ritual is taking place. Stealth is key here, so do not engage unless necessary.’’ Dantos spoke out “How will we approach the compound without being spotted?” Jackob responded quickly “Our scanners have shown a vast catacomb network beneath the site, we will land at a cavern a mile out and proceed underground to the target.” Azrael grinned “Leave it to Jackob to find a way. Never doubted you” Jackob turned to him, “Don’t praise me yet brother, we still have to succeed and come out alive.” And with that the Thunderhawk pilot announced they were approaching the landing site. They landed shortly and disembarked, the very ground they stepped on was warped and appeared almost alive, the skies were crimson and in the distance a whirlwind of chaos energy beamed into the sky from the highest spire of the compound. They entered a cave that appeared almost like a gaping mouth with large fangs, and disappeared into the underground. The pitch-black darkness was pierced by their helmet HUDs as they switch through different light spectrums to get a clear view, Jackob lead the way followed by Azrael and Dantos covered the rear. They pushed forward for half an hour and neared the subterranean chambers of the compound when suddenly the ground began to shake violently, a colossal chaos spawn crashed through a cavern wall and impaled the second to last Astartes in the column on one of his claws, Dantos barely reacted in time to dodge the beasts other claw but he was not fast enough to stop it from smashing him into the wall with its tail, his armor cracking under the force. The others quickly turned and showered the creature with a hail of bolter fire but it simply charged towards them, Jackob yelled out “Krak grenades, now!!” He and three others threw their ordnance at the beast and jumped out of the way as it burst in a flash of light, collapsing into pieces on the ground. Azrael rushed to the side of Dantos as he lay on the ground. Luckily his armor had held up and even though he suffered multiple bone fractures across his body, the Emperor’s genetic genius had saved him. Azrael removed his helm and injected him with combat stims from a medkit. Dantos reacted “And I thought the pain glove was the worst I would ever feel, lets continue, I will rest when I die.” “You are indeed a son of Dorn” Jackob remarked. The remaining Astartes carried on and soon they were beneath their objective. Jackob addressed his brothers “We should be beneath the main spire now, we must reach the surface and plant the charges in key structural points.” “We will split into three groups to cover ground quicker, and rendezvous here in 10 minutes. Dantos, Azrael and I will lead each detachment. Remember, stealth at all costs, if they discover us we will all die and the mission will fail.” Everyone nodded and made their way to the surface. Once in the compound they dispatched the few guards present and started planting the charges in quick order. Jackob and Azrael soon met up and where placing the final ones when suddenly the roar of gun fire and the screams of heretics could be heard in the distance, Dantos had fallen silent over the vox channel and they feared the worst. But soon enough a gore covered Imperial Fist emerged from one of the corridors blasting away as he ran towards his comrades, a horde of cultists and possessed marines hot on his tail. “Cover him!” Jackob ordered, and a wall of bolter fire erupted from the Astartes, slowing the horde down but unable to stop it. Soon the sounds of power armored boots could be heard all around them, the mission was compromised. Dantos made it to his brothers and spoke out. “The charges are set, be we need to get out now!!” Jackob was furious “We’re surrounded!!” Just when all hope seemed lost a figure clad in dark green artificer armor and wearing the hooded robe of an angel of Caliban burst through the ceiling. It was unmistakable, a combi-plasma in one hand and a master crafted power sword in the other. He butchered his way towards the group. Jackob was left shocked, “Sradac!! But how? Where have you been!?!” “No time to explain, I know a way out, but we must be quick. Form up on me!!” Sradac took the lead and together they carved their way through demons and traitors alike, they reached the final passageway leading to the catacombs but they were quickly being overwhelmed. Sradac turned to his brothers, “we won’t make it at this rate, I’ll stay behind and hold them off as long as I can, you get out, now!!” Jackob was not having it, “That won’t happen, we thought you were dead, and we won’t leave you behind now.” “Silence!! You will do as I say, take this with you.” Sradac handed Jackob his power sword, the Sword of Secrets, most potent of the Heavenfall blades and symbol of command over the Angels of Caliban. “You will lead now, take this with you and guide our brethren to victory.” Jackob was left speechless, “I….” “Go, now!!” Sradac roared. They all nodded and took off towards the catacombs, Jackob looked back and saw Sradac standing his ground against the tide of demons as they vanished into the underground. “Blow the charges!! Now!!” Azrael called out. Jackob hesitated for a second, but he knew what had to be done. He pressed the detonator and a huge blast wave shook the very earth all around them. The spire collapsed into a pile of rubble and the stream of chaotic energy was stopped. The mission had been a success, but at what cost.

They made their way back to the Thunderhawk and escaped the site, no words were exchanged, a dreary silence fell upon then until they reached the hive. They disembarked and Jackob turned to Azrael, “Send word to our tech marines to signal what’s left of the fleet, send out the call for aid. And round up all of our brothers in the main square.” “At once commander” Azrael responded. Jackob soon stood upon the balcony that overlooked the main plaza, with the remaining Astartes formed up into ranks below him. “Brothers, this campaign has cost us greatly. We’ve seen how the greatest among us where brought low by the vile taint of chaos and stared death in the eye. But we have prevailed through this darkness together!! He held the Sword of Secrets high, “Brother Sradac has given me this Sword to guide you in his absence, and I will do so to the best of my ability. A new dawn awaits us!! We will purge this world of Xenos and heretics alike!! For the Emperor!! Jackob was hailed as a hero and as the new leader of all Adeptus Astartes forces on Arkhona. With reinforcements now on the way and their resolve restored, the future seemed bright. Only time would tell if they could succeed where so many others had failed.