Star Krakens

Star Krakens
Battle Cry	"In Darkness Dwells!"
Founding	Recent, M39 or M40
Successors of	Raven Guard
Successor Chapters	None
Primarch	Corvus Corax
Homeworld	Fleet-based (Mobius/ The Lighthouse)
Strength	Was 1500, now ~800.
Allegiance	Imperium
Colours	Sea green, black shoulders and copper/bronze trim

So far a fairly decent /tg/ custom Chapter, the Star Krakens are a Raven Guard successor chapter with a heavy emphasis on deep sea mythology, viking influence (but not THAT Viking influence) and ship-to-ship combat. They inhabit a region of space featuring the Deep, a dark nebula which obfuscates almost all attempts at scanning it. Though the details of their fluff are still very much under construction, they've produced a surprising amount of writefaggotry and art.

Chapter History

Spawning from the Raven Guard in the late 39th or early 40th millennium, this young chapter was originally tasked with cleansing several worlds on the far fringe of the Segmentum Ultima of a minor xenos threat known as the Grendel. The Grendel, a space-faring race, had been raiding nearby Imperial worlds for human slaves, often disappearing into an uncharted nebula to escape from the retaliatory Imperial Navy strikes. The campaign to purge these worlds was hard fought, a toll which began to way heavily on Chapter Master Achab. After the last of the alien cities was burned he turned the remnants of his fleet onto the nebula the Grendel so liked to skirt, convinced that remnants of the species still lurked somewhere within its depths, and bent on avenging his many fallen brothers. Plunging deep into its heart the fleet became desperately lost, surpassing the meager depths the cowardly aliens had skimmed and instead reaching deep into its core. There they found Mobius, an abandoned asteroid onto which was built an archeotech facility, which became the first Lighthouse. Using this as their base the Star Krakens began to expand outwards, discovering other vessels sunken within the nebula, as well as the only relics this young chapter would ever lay claim to: Huginn, a vast scanning array and Muninn, an ancient repository of hidden knowledge.

Using these tools the chapter found their way back to the edge of the nebula - now referred to as the Deep - and bid their Imperial allies farewell. For Chapter Master Achab had yet to taste his vengeance, and the Krakens would remain in the Deep until he felt his thirst quenched. For a time they searched, and occasionally emerged from their dark nebula, launching lightning raids on any enemy of man who dared stray too closely to their new home. They began to excel in ship-to-ship actions, making full use of a cache of ancient Breacher Shields, as well as cleverly modifying their weapons so as to best adapt them for clearing actions.

Over time the eleven strike cruisers of the Krakens began to develop unique identities, and as the strain of maintaining codex regularity weighed on the chapter they began to deviate, arming each of their vessels as their Captain saw fit, breaking each company down into more useful tactical formations for their unique environments. They became the masters of the Spinward Deep, resuppyling at Mobius, recruiting from the fringe worlds they had saved centuries earlier, growing strong once more. But no Captain dared venture further, into the trenches and gulleys of the Tailing Deep, and it was here that Chapter Master Achab became convinced the Grendel were hiding. He drew together his finest soldiers, taking for himself the best of the chapters equipment, and disappeared into the Deep. He left behind only a scarce few units of Terminator armour, and ten Captains to squabble amongst themselves over who would next lead the Star Kraken.

Tactics & Organisation

Combat Tactics

The Star Krakens are space combat specialists, engaging almost exclusively in ship-to-ship combat and boarding enemy ships. This is made possible by their sizable store of Breacher Siege Squad wargear, found soon after they arrived in the Deep. They make almost exclusive use of Tempest rounds in their Bolters, as they are extremely effective in the close confines of boarding actions.

As for tactics, they are inspired by the Void Kraken - a monstrous, silicate-based lifeform that makes its home in gigantic asteroids and feeds on minerals therein. The ferocity of the Void Kraken is legendary: if any ship strays too close to the asteroid nest, it will emerge from its home - and tear the vessel apart. So too do the Star Krakens fight - stalking their prey from the darkness of the Deep, then emerging with a furious barrage of cruiser fire, and a great multitude of boarding torpedoes, being fired directly at the enemy vessel, a maneuver colloquially referred to as the 'Lateral Drop Pod Assault,' so the Battle-Brothers may fight the enemy on their home decks.

Chapter Organisation

The Star Kraken are organised into a non-standard arrangement: Every company has a single scout squadron, five tactical units, two assault units, one devastator unit and a unit of veterans whom accompany the Brother-Captain. This configuration best suits the nature of the Deep, where the Strike Cruisers of the Kraken are often separated by weeks of travel time, yet still expected to operate despite such isolation from one another. Likewise these units may be of differing strength or size dependent on the vessel they serve aboard, as individual Captain's may scale their forces based on experience, and any number of the companies veterans may be serving aboard the Holdfast at any given time. The exception to this rough rule is the First Company, who replace their scout unit with the Chapter's only unit of Terminators - Mokoyll, first company commander, believes there is no situation that can be solved via scouting, that can't be more effectively solved with a full terminator assault.

Roster

First Company - Strike Cruiser namehere

Mokoyll commands the First Company, and they also employ the Chapter's only suits of Terminator Armour.

Second Company - Strike Cruiser namehere

Fluff here

Third Company - Strike Cruiser namehere

Fluff here

Fourth Company - Strike Cruiser Herlov

Contains a piece of Wraithbone, a trophy from a most difficult battle.

Fifth Company - Strike Cruiser namehere

Fluff here

Sixth Company - Strike Cruiser namehere

Fluff here

Seventh Company - Strike Cruiser namehere

Thorolfr commands the Seventh Company, alongside the Chapter's most venerable Chaplain, Sworgar Maldagius. Described even by their brethren as a vicious crew, the marines of the Seventh employ four assault units instead of two.

Eighth Company - Strike Cruiser namehere

Fluff here

Ninth Company - Strike Cruiser namehere

Fluff here

Tenth Company - Strike Cruiser namehere

Fluff here

Varangian Guard (The 'Eleventh' Company) - Strike Cruiser 'Holdfast'

Fluff here

Relations

Each Other

Although there is no recorded instance of two Kraken vessels ever coming to blows, many Brother-Captain's have long, tumultuous relationships with one another. Rivalries between certain ships, their crews and marine complements, are sometimes perceived as healthy, with each attempting to 'one-up' the other in their attempts to bring glory to both the Imperium of Man and the Star Kraken in particular. Every Strike Cruiser maintains a rich verbal history of its deeds, and in many cases the Captain has his acolytes carve murals of notable events onto the inner walls of the vessels meeting places, known as Great Halls, as well as making trophies of vanquished foes hull. These serve not just as morale boosters to the marines aboard, but also establish certain bragging rights amongst visiting Captain's - it's almost assured that one Captain, jealous of the chitinous plating of a fallen Tyranid vessel holding the place of honour in his rival's hall, will throw himself into the next battle with fervor so that he, too, might hold such a trophy.

The Varangian Guard and the Imperium

Although the majority of Star Kraken operations are concerned with patrolling and protecting the worlds surrounding the Deep - as well as cleansing the Deep of its own internal terrors - the chapter is careful not to neglect its duty to the Imperium at large. To that end the Varangian Guard, a special company of Kraken veterans, serving aboard the Strike Cruiser Holdfast, are on permanent detachment to the Segmentum Ultima. The Holdfast itself is forbidden to enter the Deep, and instead spends time every three years on its fringes, allowing veterans from any of the ten companies to join freely - or to leave freely, if they so desire. This creates an unofficial 'Eleventh Company' of veterans, sometimes only numbering a few combat squads, other times nearing a full one hundred marines, whom serve on foreign battlefields. Only the Captain and his guard are a permanent fixture, men descended from the chapters initial migration into the Deep.

The Varangian Guard have served with distinction in many of the famous theaters of war across the sector, earning the Star Krakens an outstanding reputation for honour and ferocity, and so glorifying the Holdfast that the Captain has begun etching his victories onto the outer hull, due to a scarcity of space within the vessel's great halls.

The Grendel

The Grendel are a minor species of xenos once inhabiting a tiny band of worlds on the far fringe of the Segmentum Ultima. In the late 39th millennium they took to raiding nearby Imperial worlds; stealing weapons, crops and taking imperial citizens to serve as slaves on their bastion homeworlds. Local naval patrols were confounded in their efforts to track or pursue these raiding fleets due to a local phenomena, a dense black nebula which obfuscates all attempts to scan it. The Grendel would skim the surface of this nebula, obscuring their ships from pursuit, only to emerge and strike another world once the navy had retreated. An individual Grendel stands at nearly seven foot, has natural claws that can rend into ceramite and is capable of great feats of natural strength.

Eldar

The slipperiest foes of the Chapter are easily the eldar. The Deep is an occasional raiding spot for the dark kin, but it is the craftworlders who hate them more. For a burgeoning Exodite world, formed from the evacuees of an exceptionally small and damaged craftworld, was ruined by the command of the Ancient Mariner, sparking the hatred of Biel-Tan, which had seen the world as another step on the road to a new eldar empire.

Writefaggotry!

Achab's Insanity

The Librarian took Achab by the elbow, urging him in a low whisper: "To be so enraged, by nothing but... But a weak xeno. Achab, it is blasphemy." Before the last word had even left his mouth he felt his Lord's arm tense, and a moment later he was violently shaken off. Achab rounded on him, one fist raised as if to strike, his ink-black eyes both seeing him and seeing nothing.

The Chapter-Master began to rant again, starting slow, building in tempo: "Speak not to me of blasphemy, man! I'd strike the Eye of Terror if it insulted me. Look outward, Barsus... All visible objects are nothing more than masks. Some inscrutable yet reasoning thing has molded their features. The Grendel... tasks me. They heap me. Yet they are but a mask. It is the thing behind the mask I hate; the malignant thing that has plagued mankind since time began. The thing that maws and mutilates our race, not killing us outright but letting us live on, with half a heart and half a lung. It is that which I hunt, and we shall not see home again 'til I have it dead at my feet. Hail all ships: Onwards, into the dark heart of the nebula!"

The Hatred of Achab

Commodore Achab stood on the scorched battlefield, steam rising off his bulk and lingering for a few moments in the pallid air. Pulling his chainsword out of the carcass in front of him he turned to his fellow Marines. The remains of several suits of power armour lay about the floor in miserable little heaps, several Marines were limping or being carried by their Brothers. "Administer the rites to the dead." Achab growled quietly, his deep voice echoing across the now silent plains. Whilst a number of the Marines started to gather up their falled brethren, one staggered towards the Commodore. His dark green armour now plastered with blood and gore from the recent skirmish, the Marine limped over to Achab. "Brother Tostvig, you will have to visit the Apothecary and get that looked at" Achab rumbled towards the Marine. Brother Tostvig looked down and saw a gigantic claw attached firmly into his thigh, the intensely sharp claws had cut straight through the armour into the Marines skin. "I could not go to them knowing my fellow Brothers were in need of more urgent care, Commodore" Tostvig answered in an equally deep rumble.

"I do not give advice, Brother Tostvig, I give orders!" Achab bellowed to the Marine, his gaze was that of carved oak, solid and unyielding. Brother Tostvig nodded and limped off to join the rest of his Brothers, Achab, surveying the landscape, overhead a quiet wheezing noise from a few metres away. He looked over and saw a green, scaly chest rising up and down, albeit very slowly. Achab's vision immediately narrowed, his blood boiled and his veins pulsed with anger. Running over to the dying Xeno, he pulled out his combat knife and plunged it into the Grendel's chest. Achab gritted his teeth and hissed at the disgusting creature "From hell's heart I stab at thee." The Commodore pulled the knife and stabbed again. The Grendel's eyes rolled into the back of it's head as it took it's last breath, under the overbearing awe of the Star Krakens Chapter Master. "For hate's sake I spit my last breath at thee." Achab continued to stab and curse the Grendel until it was nothing more than a pile of wet bone and scales.

"Damned Xeno."

The Fall of Achab

The most important figure in the history of the Star Krakens is also its most reviled. Long ago, when the Star Krakens still had a home, the planet Giraud, a marine by the name of Achab was chosen to be the Chapter Master. A devoted, talented marine, his dedication to the Emperor hid a deeply obsessive nature. As the years went on he focused his attention less on the enemies of the Imperium and more upon those who he believed had besmirched the name of the Star Krakens. Eldar corsairs, Ork freebootas, xenos mercenaries, any who had crossed the path of the Star Krakens and were not completely destroyed. Soon the list expanded to include friendly forces ranging from Guard regiments who struck the decisive blow of victory, Naval fleets whose bombardments ended wars from on high, to other Astartes chapters whose mere presence alongside in battle he saw as an insult to the honor of the Star Krakens. Finally, to the cheers of those ignorant to his true nature, he announced a grand crusade to rid the sector of the enemies of Mankind. The first few years were successful, Ork strongholds shattered, the xenos mercenary bands and their Rogue Trader patrons rooted out, and uprisings and rebellions smashed by the full weight of the chapter. However, several began to doubt Achab's methods as the chapter's losses were slowly outpacing their replenishment. Soon Imperial forces began to feel his wrath as assistance requests were summarily denied, naval operations were disrupted, and even outright fighting between the Star Krakens and other forces erupted for the flimsiest of pretenses. Stretched thin and suffering from logistical problems, the Star Krakens were left weakened and vulnerable. Soon, it's enemies would come.

A most curious event in the history of the galaxy emerged. Eldar corsairs reinforced by mercenary bands joined with Rogue Traders and Ork Freebootas launched raids against the now understrength and isolated Star Kraken battle groups. Overwhelming force and numbers slowly whittled down the Star Krakens as Achab's advisors begged him to retreat and regroup at their homeworld, but Achab refused to call off his crusade. His determination led him to be dragged around the sector by wily foes as they killed his chapter piecemeal. As the losses mounted his obsession grew, promising wild riches and rewards for those who could bring down the cowards who not fight him in open battle. At last dire news reached the flagship; Giraud was under assault. The defensive fleet drifting wrecks, their fortress monastery was under direct attack from the combined forces. Achab ordered all Star Kraken forces to return immediately to Giraud but it was too late. The first ships dropped out of the Warp to witness the fall of the Star Krakens. It's fortress monastery, weapons silent, collapsing upon itself into a heap of rubble; as they watched in horror the combined firepower tore a hole through the crust and unleashed an eruption large enough to blast rocks and dust into orbit. In fire and thunder the planet Giraud ceased to be able to support life. Mad with grief and rage, Achab ordered the remnants of his chapter to follow the enemy fleet. Tracking them to a remote star system, he prepared for them to unleash a final victory upon those who destroyed their homeworld. His lieutenants pleaded with him, showing them sensor readings that indicated it was all a trap but he cast them from his war room and ordered all Star Krakens to prepare for a combined ground/space assault. That final day Achab spoke no words, resplendent in his Terminator armor he strode to the drop pods, his former lieutenants casting their glances aside.

Settling into the drop pod, his former advisers approached him one last time to call it off, to swallow his pride and find a new home for their chapter. He spit at them and cursed their names, stripping them of their honors and ranks. Ordering his troops to their pods, no one made a move. Before he realized what was happening, the doors to his pod closed. Screaming obscenities through his vox, he pounded futilely at the walls of his pod as the marines, with heavy hearts, launched him, and him alone to the enemy encampment below. Throughout his descent he never stopped cursing the Star Krakens, claiming them all to be cowards, useless little men playing soldier while he alone knew the glory and responsibility. After what seemed like hours the pod touched down and his curses and swearing gave way to rage-fueled gibberish and gunfire. The fight was brief, it's end signaled by the cruel laughter and taunts of Tarellian Dogs. As the remnents of the once mighty Star Kraken fleet turned to leave the system, the honeyed and belittling tongue of an Eldar captain sung through the vox system. Endlessly he mocked the Star Krakens for their failures and tried to provoke their wrath by insinuating the humiliations that would be visited upon the corpse of their Chapter Master. With a heavy heart, Jehu, the first of Achab's lieutenants to ask him to turn his crusade aside, told the Eldar to do what he wished with the corpse and the relics contained on the body. There was no glory contained within them anymore, no valorous history, only the story of the madman who had made them orphans.

Teuthys Addresses the Drowned

They stood in almost complete darkness, silent save for the subtle rustling and shifting of their armour plate and mechadendrites. The vast launch bay was almost totally unlit save for the eerie glow of the Chaplain's armour, it's bioluminescent engravings wavering and shifting like moonlight through seawater.

"Remember!", Chaplain Teuthys whispered, his voice rippling through the silence.

"Remember Achab. Remember his sins. He was weak. He succumbed to obsession. He succumbed to the desire for vengeance. He succumbed to warlust, and his passion weighed him down like a great stone.

Achab drowned himself! Achab nearly drowned his chapter with his hubris. But we, the pure... We do not drown. Our lungs are full of saltwater and our eyes stare into the dark. We do not down. WE RISE."

The air reverberated with the slow moaning rumble of the Dreadnoughts as they sang the Hymn to the Deep.

Zyou Gunthrop and The Iconoclast Fleet

Zyou Eloise Adila Guntrhrop the Ninth, Duchess of Aldervenge, Marquess of Nokaige, Baron of Karkett-Upon-the-Stars. Born the second child of the Duke of Aldervenge by his third wife, she was raised and educated for lifelong military service as was custom for the second child in her family. Due to her family's high rank, third cousins to the sector governor, she was commissioned captain of the battle cruiser Lament of Bosphor, where she spent the first five decades of her career. Following the Purge of Islafax and the subsequent downfall of the Hemogene naval dynasty, she secured her position of subsector Admiral and it's flagship, the Judgement's Contempt. Following two decades of uneventful service, she thrust herself into the annals of villainy when she led her fleet in the Puryos campaign.

The Cardinal world of Puryos had come under the assault of the Ork Warboss Thrunn "Two-Hed" Deddkilly and a massive naval fleet gathered to protect them planet along with its numerous shrines and basilicas. During the battle several of the world's cathedral's and pilgrimage sites in areas protected by Gunthrop's fleet were obliterated by orbital bombardment. A full inquiry was launched, and Gunthrop threw herself upon the mercy of the inquiry taking all the blame and offering the rest of her life in crusade as atonement. Unfortunately for her, the inquiry discovered that Gunthrop belonged to a denomination of the Imperial Creed that viewed that viewed veneration of saints and relics as impiety and idolatry. This, along with evidence of Imperial weaponry being used to destroy some of the sites, led to her excommunication and death warrants placed upon her and her captains. However, her spies within the inquiry informed her of this information coming to light and, before said evidence could be revealed, Gunthrop sailed her fleet from Puryos.

Using her connections, both familial and military, she remained ahead of her pursuers for decades as her crews believed themselves to be on a pentient crusade; her fleet swelling in numbers with captured Chartist vessels and ships from small naval detachments unfortunate enough to cross her path. After hearing of the Deep and the fabulous archeotech array contained within, she turned her fleet towards the Star Krakens to wrench the Deep away from them and claim it as her personal fiefdom. Feeling secure in her numerical superiority, the Iconoclasm fleet was unprepared for the extent of the navigational and communication difficulties imposed upon them by the Deep. Her advance forces outmaneuvered by the Star Kraken fleet, the Astartes threw themselves directly at her capital ships while using weapons unknown to disable her escort ships. The battle ended when the Judgment's Lament was rammed by an enemy vessel which detonated its magazines while embedded in the damaged battleship. Though its flagship destroyed and Gunthrop's fate unknown, the Iconoclasm Fleet still remains, an opportunistic predator that hunts the distant spaceways for unwary prey.

The Freyrsvero

An ancient Dominator-class cruiser, the Freyrsvero was found adrift in the nebula, nonfunctional and with no crew, living or dead, onboard. Years were spent repairing the ship to add to the Kraken's fleet. However, the machine spirits that inhabited the vessel had gone mad and the ship attempted to attack any vessel or facility within range regardless of commands given. The ship was mothballed and the techmarines and bonded techpriests of the Star Krakens spent three centuries attempting to appease the spirits without avail. The ship sat unpowered and unmanned until the renegade fleet of Admiral Zyou Gunthrop, declared Excommunicate Traitoris for her iconoclasm, approached the nebula intent on capturing Huginn and Muninn. Outnumbered three to one in ships, the Krakens crewed and rearmed the Freyrsvero and set it in the path of the oncoming fleet. Backed by the Star Kraken fleet and their death song on their lips, the Freyrsvero roared to life. With the Lighthouse beacon disabling approaching enemy vessels, the Freyrsvero wreaked havoc upon the escort vessels of the Iconoclast fleet before plunging at Gunthrop's flagship, Judgment's Contempt.

The flagship's guns shattered the Freyrsvero 's void shields and it's lances burned gouges deep within it's armor. As the rest of the Kraken's fleet watched helplessly, entangled in combat with the enemy forces, as the Freyrsvero was slowly blown apart; it's weapon decks ripped open by macrocannon fire as its crew burned alive in the wash of plasma flames. Deep within the dying systems the machine spirits let loose one last scream of hatred and fury and plunged the Freyrsvero into the Judgment's Contempt. Her armored prow split open the armor of the Judgment's Contempt like an axe upon bare flesh. As she shuddered to a stop the remaining Nova Cannon shells in her magazines were detonated, vaporizing a full quarter of the Judgment's Contempt 's mass and knocking it out of the fight.

Wotan Hamiltonius

To those new to the Star Krakens Sixth Company, the aura of awe and reverence that surrounds Techmarine Wotan Hamiltonius seems to have no basis. He is small for a Marine, mild-mannered and completely blind, rejecting any occular implants. Those veterans who remember the Battle of Aegir's Shoal are quick to correct any misconceptions. The Shoal's Imperial outposts were under heavy attack from a Tyranid splinter fleet, and the Kraken fleet rushed to their aid. During the resulting battle, the Lighthouse suffered heavy damage. Pulling back from the field, it was pursued by an aggressive Tyranid suicide-ship, intent on clinging to the ship and dragging it down to oblivion. While in the process of making repairs to the limping Battle-Barge, Hamiltonius was dragged overboard by a gravity current, his helmet torn off by a near-mortal impact with the edge of the hull. Decompression set in rapidly, and his comrades thought him lost as his body drifted into the path of the damaged Lighthouse's flickering beam. As the dying Techmarine crossed the beam, however, his Machine-spirits called out to Huginn and the ancient machine responded. The energy of the beam enervated him, and casting off his helmet Hamiltonius drifted alone in space, blood pouring from the sockets where his occular implants had overloaded.

What happened next is a matter of hearsay, but the most prevalent rumor is that the Tech-Marine rode the beam directly at the heart of the Tyranid beast, tearing it to shreds with his armoured fists. Though Hamiltonius refuses to comment on the Battle of Aegir's Shoal, to this day he seems perfectly comfortable in a vacuum without a helmet, and shows greater agility and dexterity while blind than most of his fully-sighted battle-brothers do.

A Meeting with the Ancient Mariner

Audvald didn't know what to think, as the vessel filled the view screen. It was old and dilapidated, but the name was still as bold in it's burnished gold as it was in life. The Albatross, Asylum for the Ancient Mariner.

His boots echoed upon the tarnished decks of the once proud vessel, he could only imagine that clamor of thralls and astartes going about their business. Now? Only the slight creaking of the worn grav-plates.

"Why are you here, young Kraken? Have you come to hear of glories old... or glories anew?" There was a single man sitting upon the command throne, huddled and skeletal. The Ancient Mariner. The old captain of the Albatross. Sightless eyes gazed at Audvald.

"I see you, young Kraken. I see who you might be. I see you taking a foolish path, the first step visiting this tomb." He laughed, a raspy sound that echoed in the chamber.

"Oh, but the glory that would be yours! The honours that would be heaped upon you! Songs will be sung of your deeds. But..." He turned his head to the side. "That path does not see you living through the century. But you are at a fork in a road, two paths divergent. The other path, I see silver and black. I see hideous monsters who's baying cries you answer with the silent of the Deeps. Savior of the Imperium, time and time again... but with no one to know." He stroked his chin, once more looking at Audvald.

"Hnnn... what do you choose? Glory and death... or servitude and life. It does not matter. My throat is dry and I tire of your continued presence. Leave this place, you have your Rime."

The Depth-crossing Ritual

Heisen eyed off the big man, one of a dozen marines the Kraken had assigned to mind him during their voyage aboard the Battle Barge Herlov. This particular marine had introduced himself as Dansk, but to Heisen they all looked alike; skin so pale as to be alabaster, inky black eyes totally devoid of white, hair, when present, little more than a tuft of ashen blonde. Heisen had started sorting them into two categories: Friendly and unfriendly. So far Dansk was squarely in the unfriendly category. "How much longer until we're in your territory?" Heisen asked, Dansk sighed deeply and responded without turning to face him. "Look out of the viewport, Inquisitor. What do you see?" Heisen glanced out, seeing the usual speckling of white stars on the vast black canvas of the void. "Nothing." Heisen said, with irritation, "I don't see anything." "Look again, Inquisitor. This time with your eyes." He glared at the marine, and looked again out of the viewport. For the briefest flicker of a moment he saw the. visage, the stars against the black. Then it dissapated, his eyes watered slightly, and something deep within his psyche twinged. Then he saw it. The stars were an illusion, painted in by his minds eye and his expectations. What he actually saw was; "Nothing." Heisen's voice was hushed, struck by some terrifying awe, "I don't see anything." "We sank into the Deep an hour ago" Dansk rumbled. They sat in silence after that, Heisen staring wildly out the viewport, desperately attempting to discern any detail in the black. There was nothing: no stars, no light, not even the roiling whisp of one nebulous cloud against another.

A deep hum interrupted his thoughts, a bass trembling which seemed to reverberate through the ship's hull, and through his bones, splitting his head with it's resonate ductility. "What the hell is that?" Heisen suddenly became fearful, "a void kraken?!" "Were it a void kraken we'd already be dead." Dansk tilted his head, "No, it is my Brother-Captain, blowing the horn of hale. He's calling the company together." "Why?" the sound was rapidly decreasing, and with it Heisen's primal fear seemed to evaporate, "Are we under attack?" "My brothers and I must meet. We have a... Tradition." "You mean a ritual?" this was it, exactly what he'd been looking for. Evidence of this chapters deviant nature. "Two words with the same meaning." Dansk moved to the door, his sea green robe swishing gently on the deckplate. "Deciding that is really more my field of expertise." Heisen rose up imperiously, and put on his most commanding voice, an imitation of one he'd heard Lord Gaelan use many times to great effect, "Marine, I will accompany you and observe these rituals." "It would be best for you to remain here." Dansk opened the door and stepped through it, and then tossed back over his shoulder, "You would not survive the experience." The door slammed shut on Heisen, sealing him in with his indignant rage. He took a moment to calm and reflect. Heisen had a lot riding on this venture, he'd put his meager reputation on the line, thrown himself at the mercy of his lord, begged for the chance to uncover the heretical secrets he was sure the Star Kraken hid. It'd began with paperwork, following a requisition trail which began to point to an uncomfortable, but undeniable, truth: the Kraken were overstrength.

Not just by a combat squad or two, either, no that would be forgivable... At best he estimated they were overstrength by several companies. Worse, as he'd delved deeper he'd uncovered more and more: long exposure to xenos presence without inquisitorial guidance, an insane Chapter Master, possibly touched by ruinous powers, several grand pieces of archeotech they never offered to relinquish, strange rituals aboard their ships and unconventional company tactics on the battlefield... His lord had raised an eyebrow when Heisen laid this out, pointed out the Kraken's long history of loyalty, that all marine companies had their peculiarities, that the tech-priests of Mars had been repeatedly granted access to the array, only to have each Magos driven mad by the nature of the Deep which so dampened technological senses. The door was locked. Apparently Dansk had been really determined to keep him from attending their ritual. Rage surged inside him again, and he swung wildly at the control panel, battering his hands, bloodying his knuckles. Then, to his surprise, the panel sloughed off, exposing the mechanism beneath. With a silent prayer of thanks he began to rewire the lock. Biting back on the urge to scream out of frustration as he shocked himself. Heisen had wanted to scream then too, and belt his lord across the mouth. Instead he had shuddered and pleaded. In the end they had agreed on one point: if the Star Kraken were overstrength, they'd have to be chastised. That was it. No orders to assess their loyalty, nor to search for warp taint or question their actions. Just do a head count and come home. How could he be so blind? Couldn't he see? This chapter had to be quashed, before they had the strength to oppose the will of the Emperor... Like those Fenrisian bastards.

Something gave in the panel, and with a groan the door swung open a few inches before freezing in place. Heisen wasted no time, immediately squeezing himself into the gap, indelicately shimmying through, uncomfortably aware of the pressure of the door on his ribcage, and that at any moment the machine spirit might recover from whatever shock he'd dealt it and crush him effortlessly. He took no time to luxuriate in relief once he tumbled out into the corridor. The horn was blowing again, whatever cultish practice these heretics were engaged in would soon begin. He got to his feet and began to jog slowly, getting his bearings, looking for a divide in the corridor he'd always been rushed past. They'd trodden these labyrinthine corridors around his stateroom many times in the last few weeks, he and whatever marine handler had been guiding him. Somehow, no matter how random his chosen course, he always wound up back at his stateroom, with his minder smugly asking him if he was satisfied with this tour. The forbidden corridor, which he'd always been patronizingly guided away from - 'for his own safety' -quickly opened up onto a great hall, towering several decks high. Above his head, strung up to the roof, was the corpse of some great beast. Its body was an inky black, shot through with deep red veins, and from its maw spawned hundreds of tendrils, smaller versions of the powerful tentacles suspended around the monstrosity, each so long it had to be looped back on itself several times just to fit inside the chamber. A void kraken. Just an infant, too, if the reports he'd read were true.

The walls of the modified room - a temple, a mess, a museum? Heisen couldn't tell - were also resplendid with artwork and trophies.He moved slowly through the hall, inspecting each mural. They seemed to be a rough history of the company, each mural depicting a victory over some foe, punctuated at various points by twisted fragments of hull taken from the defeated vessel. Heisen paused, and looked up again at the corpse of the infant kraken. Were these marines simply celebrating their history, or were they dedicating each fallen enemy to the kraken? Had they fallen to idolatry and started worshiping their namesake instead of the God-Emperor? Heisen felt, with increasing certainty, that the latter was true. On the far side of the hall one particular display caught his eye. The etching depicted a vile xeno, one of the fragile beings he'd recently learned were named 'eldar,' standing on the bridge of a burning vessel, a sword held gracefully in each hand. Against him stood a Star Kraken, breach shield as tall as he was raised in defense, a chain axe held ready to swing. The next few images showed their clash, with the eldar finally falling to his knees before the Kraken in supplication, head hanging low as the marine was depicted in the middle of a great overhand blow, preparing to behead the vile creature. Beside this, bolted to wall, was a segment of hull. It was totally unlike the others... It looked smooth, unmarked by weld marks or burn damage, as if it had simply snapped off under pressure. Heisen, fascinated, reached out to touch it-

-uld be seen but not seen a vessel lurking in the depths of the nebulae try to warn corsair but cannot show see impact impact impact it lurches out of the darkness latched on by unbreakable cables tipped with boarding vessels mon'keigh inside us slaughtering the precious cargo impact impact air venting fires inside corsair no quarter given impact impact fear as more board impa-

-Heisen became aware that he was convulsing, twitching on the ground at the foot of the foul fragment of alien hull, his hand throbbing painfully. He looked at it, and bit back a whimper as he saw the charred, melted flesh of his fingers. He put aside questions of the chapters loyalty then and there. No Emperor loving loyal servant of the Imperium would keep something so dangerous, so alien, so... heretical around. Let alone display it! The horn sounded a third, and, he felt, final, time. He hauled himself to his feet and, cradling his ruined hand, and limped in what he was fairly certain was the direction of the source of the noise: the barges reliquary. He rounded the corner just as they were lowering the blast door. Heisen broke into a desperate lope and threw himself under the door, skidding into the chamber and immediately throwing himself behind a statue depicting the Emperor. He held his breath, listening, waiting for shouts of alarm, but nothing came. And then it did. Like voices raised in a rapturous hymn without words, a deep, melodious humming. Heisen risked a peek, and, assured that the marines were all facing away from him, he began counting them. As one last man, a huge man with long grey hair, a swatch of metal bolted over one eye, stepped up to the altar, Heisen amended his count: one hundred and ninety three. Almost two companies worth. If each of the Kraken's ten battle barges were equally as well manned the chapter was more than guilty of exceeding the codex stipulations. Heisen collapsed back against the statue, cradling his hand and fighting back hot tears of vindication. Lord Gaelan would see now. They'd all thank him, honour him, the young Inquisitor who prevented another civil war.

At that moment the marine with one eye, the Captain, Heisen realised, began to speak: "Brothers, we cross once more, from the Emperor's light to the darkness of the deeps." "Emperor protect us." a cacophony of voices replied. "We honour him, and pray that he guides us, our ultimate lighthouse in these murky depths." "Emperor guide us." "Watch over us, and guard as from the insanity of the Deep, as we purify ourselves once more in the void! For we return once more, We: the kraken in the deep!" "In darkness we dwell!" the marines intoned solemnly. Heisen frowned. That sounded awfully pious for a bunch of idol worshipers. He prepared to stand and confront the marines, when an almighty hiss erupted in the chamber. They were venting the air into space! They had known he was here all along, and were attempting to kill him to guard their secret! Heisen roared to his feet and began to yell, but no sound emerged. Or maybe it emerged, but there was no longer any air to carry it. The Star Kraken stood, eyes closed to a man, arms raised above their heads as a section of the dome on the hull retracted, exposing the chamber to hard vaccuum. Heisen felt his skin boil, and his vision began to swim. Deep inside a hatred burned, and he latched onto it. Embraced it. He grasped ahold of the handle on the pressure sealed blast door and gripped it tightly, his will to live fed by his hatred. Once they restored the atmosphere he would declare them traitors! Heretics! They couldn't remain in vacuum for long, he just had to hold on. He would excommunicate the chapter! Order them hunted and purged in every sector! His vision went dark, and something wet slid down his cheek, but the hatred inside him propelled him. He would strike them from every record! So decimate them that even the Fenresian's would remember their fear of the Inquisition! Heretics!

Heretics!

"This is most unfortunate." Captain Isaias bent over the young man frozen stiff against the door, touching his face gently, "An awful way to die." "It may have been fortuitous, Brother-Captain." Dansk pushed his way to the front of the crowd, all murmuring as they observed the dead boy, "I sensed he bore us much ill will." "Look at his face!" another said, "Thats not a rictor of pain, it is hate. Hate unadulterated. He could have caused us much damage." "Better he die like this, a sneak and a spy as he truly was, than dead by our hands!" Dansk yelled, to a wave of agreement. "No." Isaias picked the boy up effortlessly, and laid him out on a nearby pew, attempting to close his eyelids over empty sockets, "No, it is better that he had lived, so that we might win him over and send him home. The Inquisition are like the krill upon which the kraken feed: kill one, and the brood spawns a hundred more to replace the loss." The marines shifted uneasily, finally one asked, "What shall we do?" "Signal Commodore Achab, recall the fleet. We shall have a convocation... Perhaps we have been lax. We cannot function as ten islands, it makes us weak: in our duties, in ourselves and to the codex." "What about the body of the Inquisitor?" Dansk asked, as the marines began departing. "Burn it." Isaias replied after a time, "Burn it, and deny we ever received him. We take care of our own."

The Origins of the Mariner

"Be careful of what you slay, lest the Warp rise up to the Deep and becalm you amidst your sins" -The Ancient Mariner

Such is the Mariners' way of referring to the incident when a large ship of unknown origin, designated as the Falcon, was destroyed. It's destruction is believed to have been the cause of the ruination of the 1st company, which left only the Mariner and his squad alive. Becalmed in the warp, the 1st company Strike Cruiser was forced to wait till the tides came through their portion of the Deep once more. Sitting in realspace as they were, many foes beset them. The Mariner has yet to state how many foes attacked, nor how long the 1st company remained stuck. In truth, the 1st company had destroyed a small, weak craftworld that had allied itself with Biel-Tan, and was hoping to establish an exodite world in the Deep. Incensed at the destruction of what could've been a new hope for the Eldar, Biel-Tan attacked the company till the warp tides allowed the Mariner and his squad to flee, learning as the Biel-Tan taunted them what they had done to deserve such pain. As the ship flew through the warp with its damaged gellar field, the Mariner lamented over his sin.

That very same sin caused him to be ostracized, for when he returned he brought the Biel-Tan with him. Now the chapter must be wary they do not fall into the traps of the eldar even as they plan their own ambushes. Over time, the chapter aged and forgot what the Mariner had done, but he remembers, and remains aboard his ship, a great golden aquilla hanging from his neck.

Initiation Rites

The thunder of the gods heralded the coming of the angels, which made Isac's dramatic entrance into the room, crying: "They're here! They're here! The angel's chariot has descended!" completely redundant. The old man had always been prone to spectacle, Chief Orvas reflected. They stood in the Victory Hall, lit and warmed by a blazing fire. It was simple: walls of straw and hewn wood decorated with shields and ancient light guns, weapons the angels had given his people, so that they might fight alongside God's army to free themselves from the Maw Devil's. All bore bayonets, and some were even splashed with the black blood of the demons - proof that his ancestors had fought, and a reminder of the debt they owed. He and eleven other fathers stood separated from the crowd, their families standing faithfully behind them, and their firstborn sons - stripped naked, barring a modest loincloth - a single pace ahead, all awaiting the entrance of God's right hand. The grand doors opened slowly, and the angel Isaias entered, cowled in the deep green robes of his people. He was flanked by two guardians, their enourmous shields, each nearly as large the doors, held aloft. They again were flanked by two angels baring the legendary weapons of the heavens; guns capable of splitting the skull of a Wyverdog in two with a single shot. Guns enough to kill every man, woman and child in this room. Orvas shuddered, and patted the shoulder of his son reassuringly.

"Hail!" Isaias boomed, and the villagers replied in kind, their collective din almost matching the volume of the angel's voice. "Lord Isaias, I humbly present our offering!" Orvas called, and bowed respectfully, gesturing with one hand at the boys arrayed ahead of them. Isaias strode across the long hall, covering it in ten paces, waving back his stomping guardians as he approached the first boy. The angel inspected him carefully, asking him to raise his arms, querying him on his various scars, and nodding appreciatively as the boy casually described doing battle with creatures that would be considered nightmare ghouls on fairer Imperial worlds. "Your offering is fair. Do you relinquish this boy to me, honoured father?" Isaias asked, nodding respectfully at the boy's father. "I do." the man's voice only just wavered, his eyes full of tears unshed, pride and agony together. "You do your world proud, honoured father! I claim this boy." Isaias touched two fingers to the child's head, and then gently ushered him towards the other angels, one of whom sheathed him in a thick woolen cape of the same green as the angel. So it continued up the line, until finally Isaias stood before Orvas. "Gracious offerings, oh chieften." Isaias spoke the ritual words, and then added, "I see your own son is amongst the chosen this time." "Yes, my lord." He patted his son's shoulder, "A fine boy." Isaias studied him intently, saying nothing. Orvas' son drew himself up, squaring his shoulders, sticking out his jaw. Even standing tall the boy was scrawny, fully a head shorter than every other offering. He was lean, underfed almost. "This is your firstborn son, chieften?" Isaias asked after a moments study. "Y-yes my lord! Of course! He is small for his age but truly my son!" cold sweat broke out on Orvas' brow, and trickled down his back. He suppressed a shudder.

"Hm. Yes, truly your son, but is he your firstborn?" Isaias gently moved the boy aside, and stepped up to Orvas. The chieften was a tall man, taller than any in his village, but even he had to crane his neck to look at the angel as he spoke his next words. "My lord. I- I-..." Orvas stuttered, terrified. "Have you forgotten the pledge of your ancestor, chieften? A dozen firstborn sons for a dozen centuries, each delivered on the tenth cycle of your world. The God-Emperor's price for freeing you from demon enslavement." "Of course not, my lord. But, my firstborn- I need him. He is precious. Surely my seco-..." Isaias struck the man, a mighty backhanded blow that sent the chieften sprawling onto the ground. The angel began to scan the frightened crowd, laying his eyes on each boy, until he found one who couldn't meet his gaze. One who had a remarkable resemblence to his father. "There." Isaias pointed, "You are the chieften's firstborn. Brother, fetch him!" The boy tried to flee, but even the coltish agility of adolescence seemed slow and clumsy compared to the alacrity of an astartes. As soon as he was caught he began to wail, and so too did his father. "No, oh angel! Mercy!" Orvas crawled forwards on his knees, hands held in supplication, "Mercy!" Isaias turned his back on the sniveling man and inspected his son. The boy was tall, as large as a fully grown man on some other worlds, and broad. He appeared well muscled, but lacked the scars and scrapes of the other boys. His face was red, and as soon as Isaias touched his chin, forcing the boy to look him in the eye, the child began to sob and whimper pathetically. From nearby came the whir of a lasgun charging, Isaias snapped away, turning towards the threat, reaching into his robe for his bolt pistol.

Against the wall stood the chieften's second son, his lips curled back in rage, the lasgun held in a perfect guardsman's stance - butt against his shoulder, eyes aiming down the sight. The gun continued to whir, and as the boy sighted it on Isaias' head, he pulled the trigger. It sputtered, and refused to fire. The boy's eyes blazed with rage, and before any of the angels could react, he threw it overarm, as though he were hurling a harpoon. The weapon soared through the air and Isaias jerked aside. Too slowly, he felt the bayonet crease his jaw, leaving a long hot gash as it kissed him. His brothers reacted immediately, two moving forward, throwing their shields ahead of them, blocking any further attack from reaching their Captain. The others sighted their boltgun on the boy, and his fellow villagers fled screaming whilst he stood defiant and angry. "Leave my brother alone!" The boy screamed, his tiny hands balled up into fists. Isaias raised a hand, halting any vengeance, and wiped his jaw with his robe, contemplating the wet smear for a moment. Then he turned back to the chieften. "I will take your second son." He proclaimed, "If you will relinquish him to me?" "Yes, oh lord! Yes!" Orvas was still on his knees. Isaias approached the wild son of the chieften slowly, as if he were dangerous game, and gently pressed two fingers to his forehead. The other boys had bowed their heads, but this one stared at him defiantly, and spat. "Thank you, oh lord! Thank you for your mercy!" The chieften called as Isaias ushered the children out of the hall. He turned to face the man, who had yet to climb to his feet, and was now clutching his firstborn child in his arms. They were both sobbing. "Do not thank me, Chieften." Isaias said softly before he left, "Time will show that I have done you a grave disservice today."

They stepped back out into the blistering cold. Isaias caught up with the smallest of the initiates, who, it seemed, had also refused one of the warm robes of the order. "What is your name, boy?" He asked, putting his arm around the child's shoulder, keeping him warm and ensuring he wouldn't attempt to flee before they reached the thunderhawk. The boy spat some curse back at him in a tongue Isaias didn't understand. "Your name, boy. Or I'll feed you to the maw." The boy looked up at the night sky, fully one-third of its stars blocked by the planetside view of the Deep, a source of superstitious terror to these plain citizens of the Imperium. "Mokoyll." He replied sullenly. "I have a good sense of you, boy." Isaias laughed, remembering the child's iron will in the hall, "You shall be a great champion some day. I wager my vessel on it."

All Hands On Deck

Craglish startled awake. The ship creaked once more, and then fell silent. Assured that he wasn't in for imminent death, he staggered from the squalid bunk in his quarters and threw on his ramshackle mixture of armour and what passed as a uniform on board his bucket of bolts, the Spearhead. As he made his way to the front deck Craglish mused on how effective their most recent slew of raid had been. The Imperial navy ships should have known better than to travel with only light escorts this close to the Halo Stars. They had made fine pickings for his crew, and they would feast for months with the agricultural supplies they had acquired, leaving alone the massive quantity of armaments destined for the Imperial Guard outpost on Jaraxis Prime. Smirking to himself as he patted the artificier sword he'd relinquished the second ship's captain of, Craglish made his way through the inch thick blast doors that guarded pilots nest at the heart of the ship.

There was a feeling of unease among the crew as the captain finally rejoined them in the bridge. Despite the cocky confidence that Craglish had been displaying since the most recent raid, First Officer Danik was worried. It was one thing to raid an agricultural ship here, a transport ship there, and take from them their excess before scuttling the ship but Craglish had taken a shining to a kind of violence some of the crew were uneasy about. Had there really been a need to flay the astropath aboard the last ship, they could have at least disconnected him from the apparatus first. That was to say nothing of jettisoning the captain and his family to the void strapped with melta charges. Word in the system was that the ship had been flocked by Imperial Navy destroyers shortly after the Spearhead had departed and that there was a mounting call among the officers of the region to hunt down and make an example of Craglish and his crew.

Now of course, few enough of them would be inclined to leave the ship, Danik thought. The takings were excellent, the fights were easy. What wasn't there to love? Sure enough Craglish's most recent spate of violence was something that one could worry about, but perhaps he had his reasons, and who was a first mate to question his captain in front of the crew? “A pirate's life for me” he murmured to himself as the captain began his routine.

Warning sensors blared into life aboard the bridge of the Spearhead. Green lights. Which could only mean one thing: Prey. Craglish bolted upright in his chair and began roaring commands to the different officers, while firing up the holographic scanner to get a better look at the solitary ship. “A solitary cargo ship! Ha! Did they not hear about us or something?” roared Craglish, arms raised in merriment to the laughter of the boarding commanders “Get the men ready Reglan, we've got another fish to gut”. Among the excitement of the captain's infectious enthusiasm, only Danik noticed the other reading on the scanner. Or rather, the lack of one. One specific spot, off the starboard side of the ship, where no readings were coming from at all. Not as if there was nothing there; a void, an absence. Danik felt unease creep over him, but kept silent and silently prepared his pistol.

Reglan escorted the men to the belly of the ship, where the boarding craft waited. Practically skipping with excitement. The killing was his favourite part, and ever since the captain had taken to it as well, it seemed that bit more satisfying. There was a dull crump in the distance, followed by a shaking of the hull. Reglan stopped in his tracks, wondering why they would launch the boarding craft without him. Furious he roared “Double time you sons of whores!” as he began sprinting for the nearest hangar, oblivious to the flashing red alarm signals starting in the hallways. Reglan burst through the huge blast doors, sweat pouring from him as he roared at the nearest pilot to ready the ship for him. The pilot stood there shuddering, desperately trying to direct officer's attention to the massive warning signals as the boarding sirens began. Pushed past his tolerance, Reglan lifted the pilot and threw him over his shoulder.

“You'll fly this ship, or you'll be the first blood on my axe today worm!”. “Sir!” the pilot desperately blurted out “those aren't the launch signals for the boarders. WE are being boarded!”. As the look of realisation dawned upon Reglan's face, there was an enormous clunk at the hull just outside. Enormous hooks penetrated the adamantium walls of the ship, and canisters were flung from the across the hangar. Reacting faster than his comrades, Reglan dove behind the nearest craft and turned away from the canisters before they shattered open with a blinding light, incapacitating the boarding parties in their places. The boarding parties were stunned as the hull of ths ship tore open and was flung inwards with explosive impact. Seconds after the explosion killed half the pirates a roar filled the hangar. “IN DARKNESS DWELLS, DROWN THEM ALL BROTHERS!” before the blasts of shotgun and boltgun fire ripped forth from the breach, tearing the crew down in seconds. Reglan grabbed his chain-axe and jumped up to join the few survivors of the initial salvo. Shouldering their shotguns, he signalled that he would lead the way and charged around the corner of the ship. He was greeted by a figure straight from the stuff of his nightmares. The giant in his luminescent armour turned on Reglan, crushing his chest cavity with one might blow of his hammer. As he lay on the deck choking on his own crushed innards, his last thoughts were of the Marine's solitary eye, blacker than the void itself.

Mokoyll stepped over the corpse of what seemed to have been the leader of the pirates present in the hangar. Examining his immediate surroundings, he barked out a series of commands to the marines of his strike party.

"Brother Theodorus, place the charges. Brother Snaaijer, prepare this area for extraction. Squad Otten, breach and clear the starboard corridors. I am with you brothers"

"They will drown, we will rise" chanted Mokoyll's brother Krakens in Unison as they set about their assigned tasks with mechanical precision.

"WHAT. IS. HAPPENING?" bellowed Craglish addressing both his remaining officers in the bridge, as well as the vox system. "I-It appears we've b-been boarded Sir!" piped up one of the petty officers. Craglish roared incoherently, as he tried to gain some sense of what was happening aboard his ship. All of the sensors had been focused on the merchant vessel, and in his blind greed he had been baited in closer to the ship as the jaws of the trap had closed around him.

"Yes, I can see that Samuel, but by WHOM. Why has noone responded to the voxx calls? Where are the boarding parties?". "From preliminary internal scans, it appears to be a force of Adeptus Astartes sir. Unknown numbers and chapter, but they have breached the ship here, here and here" gestured Pollinus, the ships tech-expert.

Examining the blueprints, Craglish could make nothing of the entry points of the astartes. "Why would they enter the ship there..." he raged as he considered the scanner.

"Scans indicate a splinter force moving this direction sir" droned Pollinus through his mechanical jaw.

"Well, we'd best welcome them as we know best gentlemen! Prepare your arms!". Whipping his saber from it's sheath, he charged out of the room followed by his bodyguards and remaining officers.

...with the exception of Danik, who snuck off in the opposite direction,

Mokoyll led the assault party through the broad hallways of the ship, breaching shield held before him. The Techmarine among the boarding party had disabled the lights in this section of the ship, and the shimmering light of the luminescent runes inscribed on Mokoyll's armour lit the way for his unit. To his men, a beacon in the dark akin to Huginn, guiding the Marines in their righteous duty. To the pirates aboard the ship he stalked the corridors, a figure of terror in the dark.

Craglish had affixed his raiding visor after leaving the confines of the bridge, and found himself glad of the fact now that the light had been extinguished in the ship. The darkness only seemed to accentuate the dull thumping of footsteps that echoed throughout the ship. He couldn't honestly tell where the footsteps were coming from, or who they belonged to, and that thought terrified him.

The scanners suggested that the Marines were moving towards the central control deck, from which the basic running of the ship was done. Though this struck Craglish as somewhat odd, he knew the Astartes would not be targeting that part of the ship on a whim. There must be some reason he mused, before his thoughts were interrupted by the beeping of his scanner. They were close. Very close.

The Marines were less than 200 meters away from his current position. He signaled to his men to prepare their weapons, as he loaded his own shotgun.

"Brother Commander" whispered Sergeant Otten "scanner's indicate a substantial group of the pirates in the next room. Shall we engage, or send brother Lojituv to the command center alone to continue as planned?".

"That seems wisest brother" agreed Mokoyll, affixing his helmet as the rest of the squad did the same. "Give Lojituv three minutes, and we shall send these renegades to the deep for their penance." Hefting his great hammer in one hand, and the breaching shield in the other, he formed a wall of adamantium with the other Krakens in front of the blast door, and they waited as Lojituv's footsteps echoed into silence.

"What are they waiting for!" Craglish exclaimed, exasperated by the marine's apparent inactivity. "Perhaps they are awaiting backup sir? Maybe we should strike while they are undermanned." suggested Paulson, the heavy-weapons specialist of the Spearhead. Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, and looking around his men in the dark, Craglish considered his options. Either take the fight to the marines on his own terms, denying them whatever it was they were waiting for, or allow them to walk into an ambush that they were almost certain to be aware of. "You're right for once Paulson. Prepare the melta bombs, we'll catch the drop on them." Paulson grinned and quickly began affixing the demolition charges to the bulkhead of the blast door.

"I'll put one minute on the timer sir" whispered Paulson into his vox system as he affixed the final charge. "We should have no problems wi-" he was cut short as the blast door, as well as every other nearby door simultaneously slid open. "OPEN FIRE!" roared Craglish as the ominous glowing figures of the Astartes moved in unison through the blast doors. The massed fire of his men dropped the marine to his left, and seemed to stop them momentarily, before the juggernaught leader crushed Paulson beneath his shield. Their advance began in earnest again.

There was a sudden an unexpected popping noise, followed by a rush of air in every direction at once. "DROWN IN THE VOID, TRAITORS. RECEIVE THE EMPERORS JUDGEMENT!" cried out the leader of the marines. Craglish dropped his weapons as he fumbled for his helmet, wide-eyed realization apparent on his face.

"THEY'RE VENTING THE AIR INTO SPACE. REBREATHERS. NOW!" he screamed over the intense noise as he struggled with his own mask. He suddenly understood the trap, and for the second time in one afternoon he knew his foolish lack of foresight had cost him dearly. Craglish's pirates were caught struggling to survive the sudden lack of air by placing their rebreathers on, which left them unable to defend themselves from the onslaught of the astartes.

The combat was over momentarily, with the marines left standing amongst the wreckage of the pirate crew, aboard the nearly fully intact ship.

"Brother Commander Mokoyll" rasped Lojituv through the vox channels "the ship has been evacuated of necessary gases to support the continuation of resistance. Only the cargo hold has retained it's atmosphere, as per your earlier orders".

Mokoyll nodded in approval to noone in particular. "Very good brother. You do the Chapter proud. Rejoin us, as we cleanse the remainder of the ship before requisitioning the pirate's supplies for the chapter's use."

Characters

Commodore Achab

The deceased Commodore of the Star Krakens. Nearly brought ruin to the chapter, reducing them from a 1500-man overstrength chapter to a brotherhood of barely 800 souls through his insane and suicidal campaigns. Died after being abandoned by the chapter.

The Mariner

The captain of the Albatross, a Star Kraken vessel that was lost and presumed destroyed. Years later it returned, the only survivor it's captain, who was discovered amidst the bodies of his brothers, who had died gruesome deaths fighting creatures of the Warp to protect their Captain. The Mariner is said to catch glimpses of the future through his madness, and initiates visit the haunted shell of the Albatross to hear his predictions.

Wotan Hamiltonius

Wotan is the techmarine hero and revered engineer of the Star Krakens. Although completely blind and without ocular implants, it is said he fights as well as any of his sighted brethren.

Mokoyll The Destroyer

Mokoyll is amongst the oldest of the veterans of the Star Krakens, having earned his veteran's mechadendrites centuries ago. He sits as the First Company's representative on the Ten-Flag Council. Mokoyll is a leviathan of a man, tall even for a space marine. His left eye is replaced with a ceramite plate from the hull of the ship "Reckless Vengeance", a reaver whose captain took Mokoyll's eye away from him after a well timed attack with his rapier.

His trademark equipment includes the relic hammer which he has dubbed Alffinnur, which he retrieved from the wreckage of a world under his first command, as well as his heavily customised tactical dreadnought armour. He has adorned his armour with additional ablative ceramite plating from the numerous ships he has breached with his company, along with decorations using the bio-luminescent markings common among the chapter's decorations.

See Also

Black Locks

Space Sharks

Abyssal Jaws

Gallery

• 

  Earliest design, found in OP for second thread. Shows mild indications of heretical designs (horns, overly organic looking ornamentation)

• 

  More drawfagging

• 

  Master and Commander, anyone?

• 

  HOLD THE LINE

• 

  "What's that dripping sound?"

• 

  Another potential logo design

• 

  Provisional armor design #1

• 

  Provisional armor design #2

• 

  Provisional armor design #3

• 

  Provisional armor design #4

• 

  Provisional Veteran/Varangian armor

• 

  Legacy logo design from thread #3.

External Links

• http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/27776983/
• https://archive.foolz.us/tg/thread/27798163
• http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/27813830/