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strongbow
28-05-2011, 17:25
This is something I've written for my own purposes connected to the Liber Astartes Campaign (http://www.bolterandchainsword.com/index.php?showtopic=228575). This is a short piece on how the new chapter master earned his title just in time for the first phase of the campaign. Would love any critique and if any mistakes are in there (be as pedantic as you like) let me know too :) . The Knights of the Phoenix are my DIY Chapter, their IA can be found here (http://www.bolterandchainsword.com/index.php?showtopic=218521&hl=) if anyone's interested. I don't think they're 100% finished and some things I've included in this short are not in the IA as I just came up with them. Thanks for reading and enjoy.

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837.M35 – Chateau Mousillon, Xerusalen. Fortress Monastery of The House of Mousillon, Knights of the Phoenix.

The jarring of the two blades rang through the air, the impact shuddering the powerful arms of warriors wielding them. The two Astartes were the best that the Knights could offer, the two captains that remained in the Feast of Lances, the competition around which each the leader of each of the 6 Houses of the chapter met to decide through feat of arms who would lead the chapter. The hopes, dreams and pride of each House weighed down the shoulders of the two combatants, an invisible, oppressing force which drove them onward, their bodies dripping with sweat and wracked with the agonies of hours of duelling. The scene was a whirlwind of fine robes and heavy blades, the two implacable giants expert in their craft.

First Blood.

One drop would decide the winner from the loser. Days of intense combat and hardship would be wasted with the spilling of a single drop. The shame was too much to bear. Phillipe la Montagne thought these words to himself over and over again as the duel continued, each perfectly judged parry and thrust a testament to several lifetimes of war, his instinct having taken over long ago. He finally had the chance to fulfil his greatest ambition. No man, especially not some young upstart from the House of Ibelin was going to stop him. At nearly three hundred years old Phillipe la Montagne was the oldest captain fighting, his experience defeating the relatively younger competition. His opponent, Guillaume le Taureau, was the youngest captain to ever compete at the Feast.

The arrogance of the young man had been insufferable, but after such a long time the effort of the fight was draining his confidence. Phillipe wasn’t called ‘The Mountain’ for nothing.

At long last the focus of the young captain began to wane, the experienced and unyielding older warrior outlasting him. With one foot centimetres out of place the young captain lost balance for a fraction of second. Seizing his chance with an unnatural speed, Phillipe struck. His blade slit the forearm of his opponent, the surgical strike causing noreal damage whilst making it clear to everyone who the victor was. As the blood still dripped from his blade, Phillipe raised it into the air above his head, roaring in triumph. On one side of the great hall scores of space marines bellowed in celebration at their captain’s victory, “LA MONTAGNE! LA MONTAGNE! LA MONTAGNE!” as their counterparts on the other side of the room sat in a stony silence.

Phillipe turned to his opponent, offering his hand. Guillaume took it. “Take this as a lesson, Captain.” He said quietly, before turning to embrace his own warriors, returning to them as Chapter Master. After seven hundred years of waiting the House of Chatillon was once again the First House.

The Wanderer
08-06-2011, 18:10
That was excellently done, could we have moar?

strongbow
07-07-2011, 15:36
Sorry for the disgracefully late reply, didn't even notice this was here!

I've written another short based on the Knights of the Phoenix in the same campaign. This is called Hordes.

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Quarantined World Phrobus – 863 M35

The air reeked with the stench of death and filth as Sergeant Raoul cut down his foe with a vicious blast from his bolt shells. The hideous monstrosities created by the rogue elements of the Adeptus Biologos had swamped this sector of tunnels and his squad was given the holy task of cleansing the area of their contamination.

At this stage of the disastrous Kuis campaign, he had lost two great brothers to the enemy. Eight Knights of Ibelin remained in his squad in this rank, dirty and long forgotten hole. The labyrinth that was the facility they were fighting inch by inch to secure had meant they were fighting dismounted from their steeds. Their bikes remained on the Emperor’s Pennon, far from here. He and his men felt claustrophobic without them in an open field, let alone in this dark tube. The zombies continued to rush at them in waves and waves of soulless and automated attacks. Their very existence was blasphemy, and Raoul intended to destroy every last one. Despite the noblest of efforts his squad had become bogged down by the hordes that opposed them, with each shambling, reanimated corpse they felled replaced with two more. Ammunition was running scarce, but the Knights held firm.

The squad had been stopped in their advance in a bend in the tunnels. Raoul had stationed two of his men, brothers Francois and Yannick at the rear to ensure their protection. After several minutes the firing stopped. No more zombies approached the disciplined line of warriors. The heavy bolter of Brother Henri glowed red with the ceasless rapid fire by its carrier, the soul of even the weapon was enraged by the creatures’ offensiveness. Brother Henri generously pured water over the burning weapon, eager to maintain its usability in the event of the zombies’ reappearance.

Raoul laughed. “Knights, even the foulest of the enemies of the Emperor have been defeated! By your courage, honour and righteous hatred we have smote his foes and now we will take the fight to them!” He ordered the advance at a quick pace through the winding tunnels. With a grim pride he hacked down one or two remaining zombies with his power axe. Behind him, brothers Paul and Jean hosed the broken bodies of the destroyed zombies with holy fire, their flamers searing all evidence of the monsters’ existence from the world.

Elated by the empty tunnels and the great display by his Knights, Raoul quickened the pace of the advance.

Before he could realise what was happening, a huge monster burst through the walls of the tunnel to his right. The monster burst through the strong steel walls apparently without effort, its bloated bulk giving it an unnatural strength. It knocked Raoul aside like a rag doll. The monster was eleven feet tall, its features twisted into a hideously disgusting smile. Its body contorted and Raoul could see the body parts of several experiments sewn into its frame. A score of eyes riddled its swollen body, and several additional and non-functional limbs poked out from its bulk in random directions. It giggled manically as it tore brother Louis apart, turning the upper part of the poor Knight’s body above its head and letting the internal organs of the warrior slide down its throat. Its already horrific stench was magnified as more zombies appeared through the gap it made in the tunnel walls as well as from behind the Knights. What bolter rounds they had put in its body having little to no effect. The Knights fought desperately to preserve themselves and their injured sergeant.

After ten seconds Raoul opened his eyes to see the carnage around. He saw the few remains of brother Louis scattered on the floor next to him as his warriors battled on with the zombies and this new monster. Bursts of flame filled the air along with desperate bursts of bolter fire to keep all at bay. He staggered slowly onto his feet. Next to his feet his weapons lay on the floor. They thirsted for the foe. He picked them up gently and felt their weight in his powerful hands. He looked at the large creature. “FOR THE EMPEROR!” he yelled, and began to run at the huge creature. He cut down a stray zombie on his approach before tearing the blade of his axe through the side of the monster. It screamed in agony as a torrent of rotten bile flooded Raoul’s visor and the floor around him. Zombie and space marine alike slipped on the toxic ooze which seared armour and flesh alike. Even the plagued forms of the zombies were not immune to its toxic effects, literally collapsing as their legs disintegrated beneath them.

The respite from the zombies allowed the Knights to redouble their efforts against the large creature, whose gaping wound was already beginning to heal itself by some unholy means. Raoul ordered it to be purged. Paul and Jean brought their flamers to bear against it, smothering the creature with surges of lethal promethium. Raoul added to this, emptying the fuel cell of his combi flamer into what remained of the axe wound at point blank range. The barrel of the weapon was embedded inside the monster when he began firing his bolter at fully automatic. Several large flashes erupted from within the monster, revealing the semi-translucent nature of its flesh. It writhed in agony from the internal explosions and the searing heat from the flamers. Its scream was piercing, drowning out the sound of the weapons fire around it before it finally exploded; corroding ooze filled the area everywhere for nearly fifteen metres and knocked several Knights off their feet. Upon defeating the monster the zombies seemed to lose focus. Many stopped fighting altogether, bouncing off walls and marines alike before being blown apart by the vengeful warriors.

As the last zombie was slain Sergeant Raoul looked around. The bodies of brothers Louis and Yannick lay in the filth, the indignity of their death in this Emperor-forsaken hell-hole filled him with disgust and rage. He wasn’t sure who hated more at this point, the enemy or the incompetence of his Chapter Master. He ordered the remains of his dead brothers to be picked up by the remaining men, each one’s armour seared of its House colours and suffering extensive damage.

“Burn this filth.” He uttered, his quiet voice filled with solemnity and silent anger.

“I’m out of promethium, Sergeant” said Paul.
“As am I” added Jean.

“Then we shall return to purge this all, brothers” Raoul said, looking at each in the visor. “We will not let the deaths of our glorious brothers be in vain.”

Without another word he began the advance back to the House of Ibelin’s temporary base on the edge of the facility.

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Thanks for reading! :)