A · G A L A X Y · I N · F L A M E S

Heresy & Hammers and everything in between

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.“

Bjornsson grunted, his fingers drumming against the pommel of a beareded axe at his side. “At least you know what you’re facing, shadow-stalker. One of my packs encountered what we thought were Ultramarines —full XIII Legion colors, tactical markings, they even spoke the right vox-protocols. We were moving to coordinate when they opened fire. Plasma and bolter-fire where there should have been brotherhood.” His lips curled back from his teeth. “The Snakes of the Twentieth. Wearing Guilliman’s colors like a skinned pelt. By the time we realized the deception, we’d bled enough. The bastards melted away before we could bring them to account. You can’t smell a lie through ceramite, and that makes them more dangerous than any berserker.”

“False colors,” Graegar said flatly, his jaw tight. “Throne, they’re not just fighting us anymore—they’re poisoning the very idea of trust between legions. And then we have confirmed sightings of White Scars and Salamanders in-system, yet no vox-contact, no identification protocols, nothing. The Fifth Legion apparently engaged the Thousand Sons near the Vandris Expanse—reports say they won, scattered the sorcerers into the outer dark. But the Salamanders?” He shook his head, pulling up fragmentary Auxilia intelligence on the hololith. “Lost an entire company to the Sons of Magnus in the Mordax Belt. Psyker-fire and warp-craft. The Eighteenth are resilient, but even they can’t stand against sorcery when it comes in force. Yet neither legion has made contact with our fleet or answered hails. Are they operating under silent protocols? Have their astropaths been compromised? Or is it something worse?”

“‘Our’ Ultramarines are silent too,” Khayven observed quietly, his eyes fixed on the display. “Optae Sulla and Marcellus—one hundred fifty-three hours since last contact. Their companies were investigating reports of traitor activity in the outer belt. Scheduled check-in came and went. Twice now.” He turned to look at Graegar, and there was a weight behind his words. “In my experience, Consul, when coincidences pile up like bodies, they stop being coincidences. White Scars and Salamanders in-system but not responding. Ultramarines gone dark. Alpha Legion wearing XIII Legion colors. The enemy isn’t just fighting us—they’re creating confusion, severing our communications, making us doubt what we see. Every engagement becomes a question: friend or foe? Every silence becomes a threat.”

Graegar’s fists clenched on the edge of the tactical table, the metal groaning slightly under his enhanced grip. “Then we operate on the assumption that nothing is as it seems. When Sulla and Marcellus return—if they return—we verify everything. Gene-scan confirmation, challenge-protocols that only true sons of Guilliman would know, the works. Same for any ‘friendly’ forces we encounter. The Alpha Legion wants to make us paranoid? Fine. We’ll be paranoid and breathing rather than trusting and dead.” He looked at both warriors in turn. “The Twelfth’s butchery we can plan for—avoid their charges, keep range and our discipline. The Thousand Sons’ sorcery we can counter with faith and bolter-fire. But this?” He gestured at the constellation of reports on the display. “This is worrying. Until we know why those legions aren’t responding, until we find our missing brothers, we trust only what we can verify with our own eyes. Pass the word to your companies: trust, but always verify. And if something seems wrong—even slightly wrong—assume it’s Alpha Legion until proven otherwise.”

Another great game at Komma last night! A proper test for my XII band, the sneaky and generally difficult to shoot at ranges above 18” Raven Guard. Up front discussions on our lists beforehand were pretty much “Either you hack me to bits in melee or I shoot you to bits from 24in away”.

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I won the roll off which meant I could run up the (very packed) board pretty quick. Terrified of the prospect of Nico’s grav-rapier I unloaded half of my anti-tank (which isn’t much in this list tbh) of a Rhino’s Havoc launcher and Hunter-Killer missile - thankfully destroying it before it could really do anything. It returned fire via reaction but failed to inflict any status.

I’m continually surprised how crap Assault Squads are at actually arriving in melee in any way intact. They always get shot to bits on their way there! The squad tonight basically served as some additional chaff in a little bubble around my jump Praetor. He did some real work before being dismembered by angry red Terminators in the last combat. Deliverers delivered!

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In the end though my turn 2-3 objective holds coupled with some other mission based stuff led to a 28:9 for the Traitors. Mad. I’m so not used to winning! 😆

Need to get on with the next 500-1000 points now:

And then I need to focus on some important decisions: