Editing MidHammer 40,000 (section)

=Writefaggotry=
==Vox-Recording Found on Terra, M41==
John Alvok, final recording on Terra.
"To Meredith, my lovely wife, so vast a distance away. I saw him today. After so many years of waiting. The Master of Mankind, our most glorious Emperor of Man. Though he once willed it not, I believe in his godhood.

Today, I have been vindicated.

Such a man. Tall, towering over the procession. His face carved from perfection, set in a strong yet calm visage, his eyes scanning over us pilgrims. Do you know the most amazing thing, Meredith? He spoke. Our immortal Emperor spoke to us. I am truly at peace now. Fifteen years awaiting and every instant was worth it, for the thirty seconds I could lay eyes upon him.

His words?
"Be at peace."

==The Dawn of Hades Hive==
Sergeant Iastus - no, ''Lieutenant'' Iastus, he corrected himself - of the Hades Hive XVIth Militia Platoon surveyed the men and women under his command. Civvies, mostly, though a couple Arbites were mixed in - he’d put those to work as sergeants. A lot of his troopers looked hungry. Most looked tired. All were clearly afraid. Iastus shared that sentiment; he’d fought the Orks before, and it wasn’t something he enjoyed. He winced and reflexively ran his finger over the scar on his leg left there by one of the brutes.

Still, the Hive needed its defenders; the XVIth would have to do. He clutched the Imperial Aquila hanging around his neck, thinking of his home, his wife, and his son.

“Men,” he said, his voice shaky, “on this day, the world of Armageddon stands in the dark of night. Ghazghkull Thraka has returned to plague this noble world once again, and his armies are banging on the gates as we speak.” Several of his troopers went a couple shades paler as he spoke. “Today, the Emperor calls upon you to fight, and perhaps die, for the Imperium.” His voice grew quieter; he’d never been the best at inspiring speeches, and it was showing. He frantically cast around for anything to say that might inspire the civilians under his command to hold the line when the time came. His eye fell on a little girl, holding her mother’s hand, standing next to the parade square at which the XVIth had assembled.

“You there, little one,” he said softly, his vox-amplifier ensuring everyone could hear him. 

“Please, join me.”

Looking at her mother, then back at him, the little girl trotted up to the stage, nervously. He noticed she kept glancing into the masses of troops on the field.

“What is your name, little one?” Iastus rested a hand on her shoulder comfortingly. The girl looked down at her shoes as she muttered her response.

“R-Rasa, sir. Rasa Halen.” At once, her furtive looks at the troops made sense.

“Trooper Halen! Step forward.” Iastus barked an order in his stern Sergeant voice. Speeches weren’t his forte, but orders... orders he could do.

A wiry man dressed in the uniform of the Arbites nervously stepped forward. “I-I’m sorry, sir, I told her to stay home today but-”

“Trooper Halen! This is your daughter, correct?” The man stood shaking in his boots, unsure as to where this was going

“Y-yes, sir.”

Iastus put on a friendly smile. He had no idea where he was going with this, but for once, his tongue seemed to have found him. He clutched his Aquila a little tighter and patted Rasa’s head.

“She’s got guts to come here today. Got that from her dad, for sure.” He turned his gaze towards the assembled Hive Militia platoon.

“Men! Before you, you see the daughter of one of your own. You might have come to know Trooper Halen during our training together, or perhaps in the cafetarium. Perhaps you knew him from before this mess, perhaps this is the first time you’ve heard his name. It matters not. He comes from our Hive, from our planet - he’s one of ours!” His voice grew steady, taking on volume as Iastus’ confidence grew.

“Trooper Halen! Would you let any green-skinned barbarian near little Rasa?”

The soldier, who had relaxed a little now the Lieutenant’s attention was no longer on him, snapped back into attention. “Never, sir! They’d have to go through me!”

“Excellent. I would expect nothing less. Those Orks out there, though, seem eager to spill the blood of your daughter and your wife. Are you going to let that happen?”
Trooper Halen’s earlier fear seemed to ebb away as righteous anger asserted itself. “Frak that, boss! I’ll fight ‘em all with my bare hands if I need to - they ain’t gettin’ Rasa and Eleanne!” Some troopers cheered at this, though it quickly died down.

“Men, before you you see Trooper Halen - not one of the Emperor’s Avenging Angels, not one of his fine Guardsmen, nor a PDF soldier. Trooper Halen is just a citizen of the Imperium, one amongst trillions. Yet, he is so much more than that. Through him, and all others like him, the Imperium is made manifest! Through him, and those like him, the tides of treason and bloodshed have been turned back time and time again! Together with him, we shall turn it back once more! These savages come to butcher our friends, our sons, our daughters - will we let them?”

“NO!” A resounding echo resonated through the square. The cheers returned, stronger this time.

“Men - nay, soldiers, HEROES of the Imperium! Today, we stand against carnage! We stand against the darkness, bearing the light that our Emperor has spread through the galaxy since He has led Humanity to claim its destiny! ‘Tis true, night has fallen on Armageddon, but every night must give way to dawn - today, WE end the night! TODAY, MEN, WE ARE THE DAWN, AND THESE FOUL SAVAGES SHALL KNOW IT!”

Like a volcanic eruption to rival the fiercest volcano on Nocturne, defiant cheers erupted from the men and women of the XVIth. Shouts of “We are the dawn!” “They ain’t getting my son!” and 

“His Will Be Done!” filled the air. Little Rana, confused and scared by all the shouting, began to cry and hugged her dad, still standing out of rank. Iastus patted her on the back.

“It will be alright, little one. Dawn has broken today.”

==The Emperor's Fury==
“The Emperor’s Fury? Aye, I’ve seen him fight.
Why are you staring at me like that? Close your mouth, boy, or your jaw’s gonna fall off. ‘Awesome’? Son, it was terrifying.

Sure, he might not seem that scary - imposing, certainly, he’s one of the Emperor’s children, after all - but scary? Nah, surely not, he’s the Emperor’s foremost diplomat. He hardly ever deals with combat on a personal level, rarely even duels. Surely he can’t be that scary?
Listen up, boy, you’ve probably heard the rumours that that thrice-damned arch-traitor knocked something wrong in the Angel of Baal, hence his avoidance of combat. Lemme tell ya, that’s a bigger load of groxshit than you’d find in an agri-world fertilizer ship.

It was on Coronus V, Garguan sector, some ten, twenty years ago. I was still just PDF back then, stationed in the capital hive. We’d been dealing with an upsurge in mutant births, rogue psyker activities, cult activity, the whole package.The Planetary Governor, that traitorous fuck, was acting a bit miffy too. Seemed intent on seccession, and the Imperium would have none of that. So, over came Sanguinius, t’see if he could straighten things out.

Now, if I’d tell ya things went to the Warp in a handbasket, I’d be underestimating to the point of groxshitting you. I was stationed near the Governatorial Palace at the time, and saw the Emperor’s Fury himself enter to meet with the Governor. I could see why they call him the Angel; I’m still not convinced he ain’t got an actual halo around his face. Face like an angel, too.

Anyhow, so the moment he enters, a series of explosions rock the palace and the Hive as a whole. Within a minute, our positions are stormed by hordes of mutants and freakish zealots, barreling down at us with hardly more than cobbled-together junk as armor and rusty knives for weapons. They weren’t the problem. The problem was that pretty much every trooper in there with me, save for my own squad, the glorious bastards, made to shoot at us, screaming about offering our skulls to the Blood God.

Now, we were damn lucky that the Angel of Baal had bought a honour guard, or I wouldn’t be sitting here. Jervis was down, Petula had a slug in his shoulder and I was running out of ammo, and these freaks have almost bashed down the gates.
So we’re sitting there, thankfully having cleared the traitors out of our position, but with a horde of mutants banging at the door, praying to the Emperor for salvation - what? Yeah, yeah, I know, He didn’t want to be prayed to, but trust me, you’d do the same if you saw some harlot with a face that look like it had melted promising to do unmentionable things to your spleen. Now stop interrupting me.

Okay, so, the door gives way, Yerrin goes down to some freak with four-and-a-half arms - yeah, I don’t know how that worked either - and we’re sure we’ve faced the end. Thankfully, it seemed the Emperor listened to my prayers, and the moment I’m jumped by one of those freaks, its chest explodes in a shower of gore. It wasn’t pleasant, but I’m sure it was preferable to the alternative. In storm the red-armoured sons of Sanguinius, wreaking absolute fucking havoc on the enemy. Within ten seconds, every last mutant in that room had died.

The Space Marines order us to follow them - not sure in what way we could help Astartes except draw fire away from them, but I’m not going to question a command by one of the Blood Angels. So, we grab our gear and follow them, fighting through a literal sea of mutants to get back to the palace - well, in fairness, they did most of the fighting, we just tagged along in the corridor of corpses they created.

Anyhow, we’re almost at the front door of the Governor’s place, and we see a dark, giant form crashing through one of the stained glass windows at the fifteenth floor. Turns out the Governor tried to summon Daemons to help fight the Son of the Emperor, but fucked up somewhere along the line and got possessed by one of them instead. I think they called it a Bloodthirster or something. I can’t quite recall after all those bottles of amasec I had after that event.
Anyhow, after the Daemon, the Angel of Baal jumps out and starts punching the shit out of that abomination in mid-air. They crashed into the ground together, right in front of us. That Daemon never stood a fucking chance.

After punching it until its face stopped resembling a face, the Bloodthirster vanished in a puff of sulphur, and Sanguinius looks up. I still think I’m damned for him looking me directly into my eyes. There was something angelic about him still, but not the type of angel that exemplifies kindness anymore. This was the kind of angel that storms out of the heavens with a giant flaming sword to fuck you up in all sorts of ways. His eyes… oh Emperor, his eyes. Hand me that bottle of amasec, will you? Yes, I know it’s my fifth. I’m your superior, son, so just shut the fuck up and give me the alcohol.

Ah, that’s better. Where was I? Oh, right. So the Emperor’s Fury looks up at us, snarling for some reason. I looked at his Marines for guidance, and what I saw almost scared me more than Sanguinius himself. In all my years of service, I’ve seen Astartes on more occasions than many in the Guard, but this is the only time I’ve seen one afraid.

Never thought I’d say it, but I thanked the Emperor when a right proper army of heretics showed up and began to shoot at the Angel of Baal. He turned around to face them and charged. What he did… wasn’t pretty. The streets were crammed with heretics, but he just butchered them all in seconds. He waded into the city, out of sight. He pretty much single-handedly executed every traitor in the Hive that day.

I’ve seen The Emperor’s Fury fight, and let me tell you, son, he’s got that name for a reason”.

[[Category:Homebrew Settings]][[Category:Warhammer 40,000]]
[[Category:Warhammer Homebrew]]