# Knights Illustro {WIP}



## Shacklock (Dec 15, 2009)

Starting writing this after I'd made up the fluff for my custom chapter, then decided I'd turn it into an ongoing story evolving along with my army. For the moment though its just detailing a turning point in the chapter's history that leads up to my current army. Feel free to criticize. Writing from a Space-Marine POV isent something i've tried before and im finding it a bit hard, so fuck knows how often i'll update, probably when i've finished painting s'more.







*Prologue *




_+++ Warning++Tracking Multiple Anomalies++Inbound++GridRef//5.3.2.2//++ Intercept Course Superbia Inclitus+++///Imminent+++_

The sudden blare of shrill proximity klaxons cut through the heavy silence on the bridge of the _Superbia Inclitus_, eliciting a strong chorus of disbelieving curses and a burst of frantic action from its crew. Hurrying toward the massed block of surveyor-banks thrusting aside a droning servitor in the process, Captain Aldrich Varden stared at the sensor data cascading across the pict-screens. His eyes widened in shock before narrowing gravely, _‘Emperor’s blood!’_ Time seemed to cease as Varden waited for the logic engines to tell him what he already knew instinctly. Centuries of vicious combat in the silent void of space had gifted the Astartes captain with a profound respect and trust for the prowess of his subconscious mind. Soon enough the logic engines would positively identify and cross-match the profile of the approaching vessels but he needed no such aid. Eldar pirates, wicked and devious xeno scum. Aldrich Varden and the _Superbia Inclitus _ had come across their ilk too many times in recent months, as the alien raiders unremittingly harried the outer systems. Time and time again they had slipped infuriatingly from Varden’s grasp, vanishing into the warp without a trace and leaving him looking the fool. Turning back to issue orders, the captain of the Superbia allowed himself a wide grin of relish. Revenge would be sweet indeed. 
_‘Brother-captain, multiple energy signatures dead to port!’_ The calm report instantly chilled Varden, resigning him to swift, ignoble death. A bombing run. It could be nothing else. Masking their presence and confounding the ship’s sensors the Eldar bombers had practically appeared atop of them, rendering the Superbia’s complement of Thunderhawks useless, leaving the Astartes cruiser virtually defenceless as an overwhelming barrage of lethal warheads streaked from the xeno-bombers. _‘Imperator damn their twisted souls. Alert the Ira, our deaths will not be for naught!’ _

The broken form of the _Superbia Inclitus _ drifted aimlessly in the void, venting atmosphere and charred corpses from a score of gaping punctures in its ancient flanks. Mercilessly dissected and tossed aside to die. The ephemeral forms of darting Eagle Bombers soaring away from their slaughtered prey whilst their larger cousins sailed serenely past, descending silently upon the unaware ships of the Knights Illustro.

***




*Chapter 1*
_For the aloof Eldar are most remorseless and swift of all wicked xenos in execution of their unknowable machinations_
*~Inquisitor Gant, Excerpts from the Codex Xenos Volume IV*





_‘I have already decreed that the 1st be dispatched, the matter is settled. I will brook no second guessing on this issue, not even from such a venerated and wise councillor as yourself brother Erebus.’_ Hrothgarr Silberzunge of the Knights Illustro was every inch the Hofadel noble he had once been a lifetime ago. Though not gifted with the usual awesome size nor bulk of an Astartes warrior, the Lord Marshall’s icy gaze and the severity of his hawkish features coupled with an intensely magnetic personality and force of will made him an imposing figure on the treacherous fields of politics and warfare. Perched upon a satin bergère, eyeing resolutely the massive adamantium clad form of the venerated-brother Erebus he radiated a cold intensity, daring any of his councilors to question his decision. After a tense moment of charged silence, the entombed Astartes acquiesced, stepping back into one of the shadowed alcoves ringing the council chamber. His stern visage instantly evaporating, any tension along with it, Lord Marshal Hrothgarr rose to his feet, hands folding behind his back._ ‘After all, would you see us cowed by baseless xeno scum?’_ Pacing now he turned with a dramatic flourish, delivering his next line with all the magnetic authority of a master thespian, _‘The proud, warrior sons of Illustro do not wait meekly for battle! No we are men of honor, our duty to humanity and the Emperor must always come first and foremost. I promise you brothers, soon enough we shall bring an end to this piratical scourge, but whilst that day draws ever nearer we must still look to the protection of those who cannot defend themselves. Would you truly seek to deny Brother-Captain Arnulf and his men the glorious honor of just-battle with the Nightwyrms?’_ Almost on perfect cue, the more sycophantic of his ‘advisors’ veritably exploded out of their high-backed chairs, only too eager to loudly vocalise their bleating support. Smiling sardonically, the Lord Marshall allowed himself a brief moment of private pleasure. As always, the living component of his inner-court had fallen into place behind him and yet as always they were never the true difficulty. As the clamor of noise diminished and the remaining brother-captains reluctantly returned to their seats, Hrothgarr shifted his attention to the true recipients of his speech. Standing motionlessly in the deep shadows that greedily claimed the towering, baroque alcoves that studded the Marshall’s Court, the trio of dour behemoths returned the Lord Marshall’s gaze impassively, their thoughts as always infuriatingly impossible to decipher. It was written somewhere, Hrothgarr seemed to recall, that a Marshall’s most implacable obstacle in any and all political matters was the Venerated Council of Chaplains.

The winding plasteel corridors of the _Sanctus Ira’s _ inner sanctum reverberated under the heavy tread of Chaplain Erebus as he strode ponderously towards the bridge. Matching the ancient dreadnoughts pace, Lord Marshall Hrothgarr quietly appealed for Erebus’s support once more. As he prepared to counter yet more of the chaplain’s typically conservative counter-points, the deafening groan of buckling bulkheads cut the startled chapter-master abruptly off. As if being signal for a massed attack of the senses, it preceded the breaking loose of all hell. The deck lurched violently and a loud crack rent the air. Thrown clean across the corridor and sent bouncing and rolling to a sprawling stop, the Lord Marshall picked himself up with a dazed shake of the head, already cycling through the comm.-frequencies to raise the Ira’s captain. _‘Brother Daelan, report!’_ After a moment of raging, indecipherable background noises the grave voice of Knight-Admiral Daelan struggled to be heard over the competing din. _‘Batteries six through....out of operation,’_ the remainder of Daelan’s report was swallowed in the ensuing roar of fire. Through it, one word floated clearly..._Eldar_. 

***



*Chapter 2*
_Come all you Xeno scum. Come face the one true might of the universe and wither under the Golden Throne's gaze._
*~Brother-Captain Kalarn Dasal, Deathwatch Annals*


Coasting slowly in-system, having silently and simultaneously dispatched the picket ships at the outer edges of the solar system, invisible to the comparatively crude sensors of the Astartes vessels, the battlefleet of Craftworld Iybraesil caught the Knights Illustro utterly unaware.


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## Commissar Ploss (Feb 29, 2008)

great work so far, i really like it! keep it up! 

Commissar Ploss


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