A · G A L A X Y · I N · F L A M E S

Heresy & Hammers and everything in between

H O U S E · M A L I N A X

The command deck of the Merciless reeked of blood and promethium. Skane stood before the tactical display, his gauntlets still crusted with gore from the assault on Outpost Tertius-Seven. Three Xana installations broken in as many days. Three times the Nails had sung their glorious song. Three times he’d led his brothers into the red work and emerged victorious, painted in the enemy’s life. Now the screaming in his skull demanded more, always more, and standing still felt like dying by degrees.

Tactical Sergeant Vhorr approached with measured steps, his own armor scored by laser burns and impact craters. “Praetor,” he said, voice carefully neutral through his vox-grille. “Supplicants… have been found. I would bring them before you.” There was hesitation in that word, and Skane’s head snapped toward him with predatory speed. His hand twitched toward his plasma pistol. Supplicants. Not enemies. Not targets. Something else. Something that required words instead of axes. The Nails screamed their displeasure, biting deeper, turning thought into agony. “Speak,” Skane forced out, each word a battle against the fire in his brain. “What… supplicants?”

P E R F E C T I O N · F A I T H · F U R Y

The strategium aboard the Merciless hummed with the low thrum of the ship’s plasma drives as the hololith flickered through displays of Beta-Garmon’s inner systems. Felix Andronicus stood with the posture of a duelist, his Tartaros plate enameled in the purple and gold of the Emperor’s Children, each surface polished to a mirror sheen despite the bulk of the ancient armor. Phoenix Guard heraldry gleamed on his shoulder—a mark of ‘honor’ earned in the killing fields of Isstvan V. He studied the data-streams with his quick, curious violet eyes. Beside him, Bael Ashur of the Word Bearers seemed almost drab by comparison, his armor inscribed with Colchisian scripture that writhed in the dim light. Kol stood apart from both, his chalk-white plate still streaked with promethium burn and dried blood from his last drop assault. His hands, as always, shook.

D I S Q U I E T

“The Twelfth hit our brothers hard on Nyctos VII,” Khayven said, his voice barely above a whisper as the three warriors stood before the tactical display. “Four squads. Gone. The World Eaters don’t hunt—they rampage. Brother-Captain Solyak tried to harry them into a kill-zone. They followed, but they didn’t care. Just kept coming through the fire until they tore him and his squad apart with their bare hands.” He paused, and even through the stoicism of a Raven Guard, Graegar could hear the edge of something raw. “We’re hunters, Consul. We strike from shadow, we fade, we conserve our strength. But the Twelfth? They’ve become something else. Something that can’t be avoided or misdirected. Only survived. Oh, and a unit of Terran Deliverers broke protocol completely and teleported to the surface, we’re still waiting for their report. Madmen all.“

F I R S T B L O O D

Kol’s gauntlet tightened on the haft of his chainaxe as he stared through the magnoculars at the Mechanicum outpost. The sandy black heraldry was visible even at this distance, smeared across bastions that jutted from the rocky plateau like broken teeth. “Xana colors,” he grated, the words coming hard past the screaming in his skull.

W A I T I N G

I stand with my back to the bulkhead, arms crossed over my chest plate, hearing the chrono tick its slow path toward the hour. Captain Ashurhaddon will return when the Warmaster dismisses him, and not a moment sooner. Until then, I wait. The Sons of Horus understand patience—we are the tip of the spear, yes, but even a spear must be drawn back before it strikes.

The ready room hums with the ship’s systems, a bass rumble that settles into your bones after enough hours aboard a vessel this size. Four other equerries share this vigil, each waiting for their lords to emerge from the strategium where the fate of Beta-Garmon is being decided.

C O U N C I L

The tactical hololith cast its pale light across the war room of the Unbreakable Vow, painting the faces of those assembled in shifting blues and ambers. Consul Tymon Graegar of the Imperial Fists stood at the head of the stone table, his yellow plate dulled by months of void warfare, scoring from plasma and las-fire marking his right pauldron like tallies of survival.

Beyond the reinforced viewports, the Beta-Garmon cluster burned. Not with the clean light of stars, but with the diseased luminescence of the Ruinstorm—that great psychic cancer Horus had carved into the galaxy’s flesh. They had been trapped here for seventeen months. Seventeen months since the skies had screamed and the Warp had become a thing of teeth and madness.

X V I · V S · I · Y E T · A G A I N

+++341.010.M31 - IRIDIUM, BETA GARMON STAR CLUSTER+++

// SURFACE-ORBIT VOX INTERCEPT // : SNDR : XVI LEGION ARAKNAE 4A XXIX VERISAX BASTION : PRIMARY OBJECTIVE ACHIEVED || LOYALIST PRESENCE SIGNIFICANT || ALL HANDS LOST || MARDUK SEDRAS CONFIRMED ON THETA GARMON V ++ FOR THE WARMASTER

My first game of HH 3.0 was a big, very silly one. Nico has a Warhound titan. I had just finished my Fellblade. 4000 points? Why not! It was great to get to grips with how the base game feels now, the removal of rerolls and having to think about twin-linked/artificer sergeants or what other rules made things more complex it felt a lot faster.

After a delicious bowl of pasta, it was time to deploy. I had a shockingly small amount of infantry on the table in comparison to the Dark Angels - mainly because I’d elected to bring a Cerastus Knight as well :)

X V I · V S · I

I didn’t really need an excuse to organise a game with Nico but a rematch from our game last year felt like a valid one. I still have this headcanon floating around of my Sons of Horus army being a splinteredelement of a greater one, a shard of the speartip that was landed on Tallarn in 010.M31. Perturabo’s forces would have had representation from Horus’ armies for sure as the XVI were so invidious in the conflicts over the galaxy at that time. His Dark Angels are beautiful and terrifying to behold so I had been looking forward to getting some models on the table again with him :)

X I I I · V S · I V

+++528.011.M31 - TALLARN, NEAR ORBIT+++

I’ve told you a dozen times and I’ll tell you again, Captain - tell the Old Bear I’m going down there. We saw the IV move in to that sector twice in the past hour on Auspex and have confirmed eyes on from nearby Seeker squads. They’re going for those Archaeotech clusters man! and yes I know we can’t stop them but we can at least harry them until you can meet with the other elements of the chapter and organise an appropriate practical response. Don’t look at me like that. Tell the old man I’ll see him in hell. I hope the Olympians have bought enough tanks to make this worth my while. ~Stelos Titus, Praetor 12th Chapter XIII Legion Assault Element

S K Y · V A L L E Y · N E V E R · C O M E S

I’m actually getting somewhere with my XIII Legion army.

  • I stand alone on the cliffs of the world
  • No one never tends to me
  • Sitting alone covered in grease
  • Some things are so my mind can breathe”

~Space Cadet, by Kyuss (1994)

Springtime is a funny time of year down here. We’ve had some days of AMAZING sunshine (yay rattlecan priming!) and some days of truly terrible grimy rain (yay excuse to disappear into the cellar and paint). I’m looking forward to Kindergarten-virus season being well and truly over and being able to go out with the kids regularly.

I T ' S · A L W A Y S · S U N N Y · O N · I S T V A A N · V I

‘I was there,’ he would say afterwards, until afterwards became a time quite devoid of laughter. ‘I was there, the day Horus slew the Emperor.’ It was a delicious conceit, and his comrades would chuckle at the sheer treason of it.

I haven’t run a website for YEARS. When I was at uni (and weirdly had loads of time) I found the time to regularly write stuff. I’m hoping to get into the groove of updating this site more often and posting about my hobby journey.

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