Argo Brigade
| Argo Brigade | ||
|---|---|---|
 |
||
| Founding | TBD | |
| Homeworld | Argos | |
| Strength | 7000 Guardsmen | |
| Specialty | Counterinsurgency | |
| Allegiance | Imperium | |
| Colours | Azure, crimson, and charcoal. | |
An Imperial Guard regiment of brutally effective counterinsurgency operators who really, really enjoy crucifying dissidents, dissident sympathizers, and xenos upside down and/or sideways.
Specialty
The Argo Brigade specializes in counter-insurgency and light reconnaissance tactics. They prefer anti-armor and flesh melting weapons. The regiment has the peculiar tradition of crucifying captured xenos sideways and upside down, which are well attended public events and do wonders for morale.
Writefaggotry
Some stories and tidbits coming out of the first thread, to be categorized later.
A History
The birth of the Argo Brigade
Before the mighty hammer of Imperial Wrath could be brought upon the system, the Steadfast arbiters of the Adeptus Arbites called into action the sole dissenting PDF, that of Argo VII itself. They did not need to appeal to any notion but their Emperor bound duty, and the Argoan PDF rallied to bring the planet to heel and the System Governor to his death. The PDF and the Arbites fought off nearly the entire planet and supplementary forces from across the system and even Dark Eldar and other Xenos mercenaries from across the subsector.
The Argoan PDF fought valiantly, but their losses were too great. Reduced to a single Brigade, the fighters were pressed into hiding were they formed a covert insurgency. Chemical Weapons and improvised explosives harried the planet for months to come, but their most potent weapon was their gruesome propaganda; the crucified bodies of opposition leaders and other fallen. Nailed to single boarded crucifixes upside down, suspended by their feet, their hands bound below their heads or nailed at the base of the boards, these eerie monuments bathed the cities with carmine Argoan Gorepoppies, the red flower in stark contrast to the distended corpses of the fallen.
Eventually the will to fight the lone Brigade was broken, and the sparse civilian resistance left flocked to the Brigade, following the trail of crosses and tombstone-like displays. Bolstered by loyal servants of the Imperium the Brigade felt no mercy, offered no respite, and left no survivors. Those that did not fight with them fought against them, and those that didn't fight did not fight for the Brigade. None were spared in the purging of the Hives, few were left alive in the great Phosphorous Flood of the Western Provinces, and all who surrendered in the Siege of the Validici Presidio were forced to crucify those that did not, the leaders and nobility stretched along the ferrocrete slabs torn from the System Governor's Palace and nailed to them, their bellies slashed and left to disgorge their contents. The endless waves of traitor guard were simply impaled in their formation ranks through their sides with great charnel pikes, then heaved into the air like victorious banners.
The surviving enemy were gathered into a long queue, stretching from the bloodied throne of Dantonius Validici LX and his chemically charred form (still alive to be saved for very last), to the pearlescent gates of the fabulous Presidio. There they were received by the grim detainees that made the wise choice to surrender to the merciless Brigade. The Lord Commissar would then issue one of two commands, dictating the prisoner's grim fate;
"UPSIDE DOWN!" "SIDEWAYS!"
The screams of the impalings and the wailing of those forced to commit them filled the air for three days, the Brigade working in shifts to oversee the workers who slaved tirelessly, the Lord Commissar himself only pausing his dirge of judgement for water and ration but never sleep.
On the dawning of the fourth day System Govenor Dantonius, dehydrated and dying but to his benefit still living, was dragged from his melting throne and brought before the remaining Lord Judge and was labeled Traitoris and sentenced to death. He was taken to the great balcony of his palace, and so all could see, nailed to the very walls of his monument to excess.
The other planets of Illius X were quelled, surrendering in their shock and horror in seeing what the Imperial force was willing to do to their own people, and perhaps lesser men would have accepted the victory. But the Argo Brigade are not lesser men. They took to the stars, and each Planetary Governor, every Hive lord, and every ranking Noble on the worlds that did not fight for their Emperor was set upon the slab, crucified before their people. Those that stood against them died in droves, their cities burned and their monuments destroyed.
Illius X was awash with blood and the choking fog of Argoan war. The victory of the lone brigade from the throne world Argo was complete and total. When the Inquisition responded a short few years later to the threats of confederacy they found the system marred by conquest. They questioned the loyal servants of the Imperium as to the status of the system, threats of Astartes response silently hung in the air.
To their shock, the fighters answered simply, "All is well. The Argo Brigade endures. For the Emperor."
Now the system is rife with grim labor and merciless justice. Many Regiments have been formed to meet Imperial Tithe in recompense for their crimes, but none can match the tactical acumen and psychological might of that of the storied of Argo's fighters, simply Known as the Argo Brigade. Small and efficient, the Brigade still dons dusty blue helms of the original Argo PDF, their rank and unit crest a furious red in honor of the dunes of Argo, still red with the solemn Gorepoppy fields.
Indus' Fifth Compound
Story of Corpsman Indus
While resupplying on an Imperial world, the planet and Brigade came under attack by an Eldar raiding party of Craftworld Alaitoc for purposes arcane. During the attack, Corpsman Indus, who always had a bit of a mad scientist streak, flooded the corridors of the base with various compounds that he suspected were paralyzing to Eldar. Many defenders choked and died on his toxic substances, but his fifth compound changed the course of battle.
Just as the raiders prepared to extract the mon'keigh target as they had foretold, one of Indus' compounds hit upon the Eldar pain receptors, causing their bodies to be racked with seizures from the unending pain. The defenders were able to take quite a few living Eldar prisoners, paralyzed by the pain, for the Ordo Xenos.
Indus' Fifth Compound, as it is now called, is being studied on Eldar prisoners to determine just what makes it so effective.
Sergeant Bross
Memoir of Sergeant Bross
Dust swirled in the wartorn streets, the air filled with the shrill war cry of Valkyrie guns alight with fury, the soft crunch of heavy boots crumbling the rubble of what used to be homes and businesses. Tau propaganda hung from windows in tattered banners and shredded posters. Calling for surrender with false saccharine promises of a better life under their xenos oppression. Sergeant Bross curled his lip in disgust underneath his mask, corrosive fumes drifting about his boots like morning fog, the roaring engine of the immense Crassus transport crawling beside him drowning out all thoughts of xenocide. Well, not all. Even through his mask the stench of death filled his nostrils, that sickly sweet smell of corpses and the savory scent of auto weaponry.
His element proceeded before the Crassus, keen eyes on the ground to protect the precious cargo of their brethren from unseen attack, their black lifeless goggles scanning windows and rooftops, rifles held at a low ready. With little pretense a whistling crack from a nearby window, a sniper shot. The shot erupted Private Kraden's helmet in a shower of crimson and blue shrapnel. The squad called out the distance and direction of the shot in stern shouts, and began to encircle the transport for security. The massive doors of the Crassus groaned open and troops began to pour out and lay down fire while the heavy flamers of the vehicle belched flame into the building.
Return fire came not shortly after, the terrorists having sprinted to another adjacent building not engulfed in flame. The disembarking troops gave pursuit, falling into cover and bounding forward, the Flamer leading the way in a grim stride. A dangerous game, but nothing broke the will of inexperienced fighters like the sight of an Argoan Flametrooper. The Brigadiers surrounded the crumbling building, tossing in gas grenades and for those with shotguns or grenade launchers incendiary or nerve rounds. Auto Rifles, shotguns, las-rifles, even pulse rifles condemning their heresy were tossed from the windows and doors, as the insurgent scum fled from the building with their hands thrust skyward. Perhaps they expected mercy.
Flaming, chemically burned, shot, stabbed, the criminals were in pitiful condition. As they fled from battle like faithless curs they were greeted by steady volleys of las fire. Brigadier marksmanship ensured that they were not lethal wounds, no death in battle was not a right that cowards had. To die for one's cause was an honor that only true warriors could aspire to, even scum heretics. Lasfire met shins, splintering them, kneecaps, shredding them, and shoulders, splitting them. The dregs fell to the dirt, crying out in pain, for death, for their mothers who failed to instil faith and virtue in them, for their xenos slave lords, some even for the Emperor's mercy.
Wordlessly, Sergeant Bross's soldiers began to drag away the yet-living dead. It always pleased the grizzled soldier to see such ease with which his soldiers plied their craft after battle. Their movements were precise, practiced, and in some vague way religious, as if they were performing some ecclesiarchal rite.In many ways, it was, for in Justice there is no greater veneration of the Emperor. The medics made to the transport, no doubt to retrieve corpse-pikes and slabs, the singular thin sheets of light metal that the enemy would be pinned upon in lieu of true crucifixes. Sergeant Bross, stepped forth, placing a gloved hand on Corporal Daret's shoulder, "Don't waste slabs on these ones, just use the walls," He motioned to the flaming building, still alight with bless'd promethium, "We need to save up for Objective Lho, the city square should have more creeps." The medic nodded, "Roger that." Bross could feel the grim smile on the young medic's face as he motioned for his comrades to the charred walls.
"PLEASE, STOP! DON'T DO THIS! I'LL TELL YOU ANYTHING!" cried one of the wretches, as his flayed thigh gouted scarlet blood upon the dirt. Bross slung his rifle over his shoulder, and the trooper dragging the man by his crushed fingers stopped. Bross tore the man's fetid tunic and wrapped his dire wound painfully tight, earning him sour whimpers of pain. "Which of you had the sniper rifle?" the soldier asked smoothly, his gruff tones barely concealing seething fury. The vandal immediately nodded emphatically to one of their ragged number, the vagrant having lost his arm. The fireteam laughed at his eagerness, then laughed harder at the sniper's cries of protest and his cursing of his comrade at his immediate betrayal. Bross simply unsheathed his knifed secured to his breastplate and drove it through the snitch's temple, rewarding his compliance. Then he stalked over to the one armed sniper.
"That was a good shot there, killer," Bross said, unsecuring his gas mask from his helmet, letting it swing free from one side, acrid gas singeing his lungs and eliciting a cough. Bross cared little, cancer was already eating away at his lungs, it wouldn't be too much longer til fighting wasn't an option. He retrieved his pack of Lho sticks from underneath his armour, using his chin to open the pack and grabbing a loose stick with his lips, lighting it off his still hot barrel, "Shame about that arm, eh?" Bross inhaled deeply, the lho dulling his raging emotions, clearing his thoughts, they'd need to move quickly, it wasn't safe to indulge in business like this. The sniper just spat in his face. Bross politely retorted with a curt punch to his forehead, his knuckles rapping soundly off the bone. Bross took a deep drag before placing the stick in the creep's mouth, who began to puff gladly "I'll cut you deal, same deal I gave your friend over there. Talk and we won't put you to the cross or to the flame. Quick and clean. How's about it, slugger?"
The man nodded tiredly, "What do you want, Imperial." Bross nodded, satisfied, the sound of distant mortar fire and panicked screams music to his ears. The battle was going well. "Tasha Square, you know it?" The rebel nodded. "Good, that's great man, you're doing great. Now what defenses are there, we know the Blueberries moved in last night, what do they got there for us?" The sniper sighed, tears welling in his eyes, the shock of capture compelling him to speak, "They're using it as a Hammerhead depot, there's Stealthers there too. Th-that's all I know, I swear. N-now just do whatever you will." Bross chuckled, taking the lho stick from the detainee and taking one last puff before putting it out on the haggard man's head, "Oh I will, fucker. Trust me, I will. Nail 'im up, let's get this show on the road." "YOU SWORE! WE HAD A DEAL!" Bross shook his head, putting back on his mask, "I lied, heretic."
The soldiers dragged the screaming victims to the still smouldering walls, taking nailers, a side arm that found its origins as an industrial nail gun but since the Argoan Revolution has found use in the Emperor's service as a short range weapon and an effective tool for making an example of dissidents. Bross enjoyed his profession, but the sizzling of flesh, the cracking of bone and concrete as nails were driven through bound feet and wall, the hopeless wailing of the damned...there was no glory in this, but crucifixion is far more than tradition, it is a necessary to quell future dissent. The hiss and crack of the Nailers ceased, the fools now hung by their feet, the spreading flames licking their toes. The soldiers took their combat knives and drug them across the exposed bellies of the inverted, intestines pushing out like grotesque blooms of some exotic and macabre fruit, ripe and wriggling.
"Mount up boys, Bravo squad, you're up for walking, Alpha on me in the truck." The soldiers did as commanded and moved their fallen brother onto the transport, " Hurry the fuck up! We have to make objective and rendezvous with Charlie, those heretics won't pin themselves up!" The troops flooded into the transport, some popping off their masks to have a smoke, other checking their gear, some obviously falling fast asleep. The battlefield faded away within the confines of the Crassus as the doors closed them into the transport and the vehicle continued on to the nexus of violence. Sergeant Bross simply looked at the mangled corpse of his private, then joined his soldiers in rest as he closed his eyes, the sounds of roaring flame and hissing gas drowned out by the grumbling engine lulling him to sleep.
Standard kit
All infantry are equip with gas masks and re-breathers on account of all the toxic/poisonous gas they throw around. Basic infantry carry various gas grenades: choke, toxin, hallusinogen and scare grenades.
The backbone of the Argo Brigade used for both anti-armor attacks and also to melt the flesh of anyone who gets to upity, is the CHEM CANNON. Traditionally mounted on Bane Wolves it has been modified to be used by heavy gunner teams as well as mounted on Taurox. Meltas and flamers are also favored by the Brigade.
The Tiberius Pattern Anti-Armour Rifle is a "man portable" stubber-like weapon. Bolt action and magazine fed, the meter and a half long weapon is meant to allow infantry Peacekeepers to combat enemy armor in the absence of Melta weaponry or allied armor. The rifle, nicknamed "the Bunkerbuster", is commonly issued to Recon scouts who may encounter armored resistance and therefore need to be prepared for such eventualities since the armaments on their vehicles are often not enough to combat heavy tanks and walkers such as Crisis Suits or monstrous creatures such as a Talos Pain Enginer as well as breaching lighter bunker walls.
Due to the weapon system's overwhelming weight and the weight of the large calibre rounds, the weapon platform is sparingly issued to standard Peacekeepers.
The Nailer, a pistol finding its origins in traditional nail guns used in construction is carried as a side arm by the pacification squads to assist in mass crucifixion. It fires a modified bolt the size and shape of a railroad spike.
The Crunch
TBD
Only War Statblock
TBD
See Also
TBD
Gallery
-
An emblem of the Argo Brigade featuring both a human and xeno crucifixion.
-
A Guardsman of the Argo Brigade rendered by the Bolter and Chainsword Guardsman painter.
-
A Guardsman of the Argo Brigade edited with gasmask.
-
A Guardsman and Officer of the Brigade in regimental kit.
External Links
First Thread: Creation, Ideas, Drawfaggotry, Writefaggotry: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/52865307/#p52919274