Tales of Rogan...

 

You will have hear tales of Rogan, yes? Certainly. For Rogan is the man who conquered these worlds in the name of the immortal emperor of mankind, all those years ago. A Rogue Trader, yes. With a warrant of trade, providing carte blanche to roam those worlds outside of the imperium proper.

You may have heard tales that say Rogan was a vainglorious fool,  who prized speed of conquest over properly securing worlds. What you may not of heard was that Rogan was a man driven by one thing, and one thing alone: he was searching for something, out here in the Halo…

What was he searching for you say? Rumours. Rumours of a race older than any you could imagine. Much older than the Eldar, whom you may think of as ancient. Rogan was searching for artefacts and technology dating back to the Old Slann…

And not just searching – he found conclusive evidence, even though it cost him his very life!

You may have heard that Rogan was eaten by primitives, on Rogan the Farthest? Those very primitives were guardians, genetically created by the Old Slann, guardians of their secrets!

But guardians of what…

We may never know, now that Rogan is dead. What were they guarding?

A recording is available at: https://youtu.be/Ytur27kfgTk?si=s7-4J62SCyYHYL2Y

Rikkhard's Gambit - a 2nd edition 40k battle report

A recording of this battle report is available at: https://youtu.be/s5jJGK3n03k

Wolf Lord Rikkhard gestured towards the landing pad. “Olve, my old friend, what can you tell me about their forces?”

Rune master Olve Hrafnmadr turned and held his hand skywards. The psyber raven took off, circling the industrial complex. Olve closed his eyes and the raven’s opened.

“The landing facility is at the centre of their base. The Ultramarines Thunderhawk is serviced and ready. I do not deem it quite flightworthy, but its armaments are activated. To the East, a corrupted Predator lurks behind a bunker. Foul chaos spawn dwell within, brandishing heavy weapons. To the west, another bunker, occupied by Terminators, though few in number. A Dreadnought stands behind. The lord of this foul host commands the centre, with a further bodyguard of Terminators.”

Olve opened his eyes. “That is all I can tell. They have a sorcerer amongst them, and he has sensed my presence. We must be prepared for witchcraft”

On Rikkhard’s word, the Space Wolves began to deploy. Grey Hunters held the central ground, near the entrance to a refinery complex. They were flanked by Asgeirr the Stout, a venerable brother entombed within a formidable Dreadnought. Behind, the Land Speeder Jarngandr hovered in the jungle, ready to speed forwards and attack the bunkers.

Besides the Grey Hunters, Rikkhard led half of his Blood Claws. The Sun Swallowers were brash, and filled with confidence, ready to ignite their jump packs. On the Eastern flank, the bikers of Pack Howling Storm revved their engines and started to advance, flanked by the Attack Bike Atfaradyr.

Before Rikkhard could order the advance, a superheated bolt of blue plasma burst from the Chaos lines and roiled across Asgeirr’s sarcophagus. The veteran within screamed as he was boiled alive within the suit, and the Dreadnought stumbled, collapsing into a nearby cactus.

Simultaneously, on the other flank, the Chaos Predator had drawn a bead on the lead bike, and its autocannon rang out. A hail of high caliber shells struck the bike, damaging its wheel mounting.

Unperturbed, the Grey Hunters advanced through the refinery, Olve accompanying them to ensure psychic protection. The Sun Swallowers and Rikkhard ignited their flight packs, and sailed across the refinery, as a shell from the Thunderhawk’s battle cannon blasted apart 3 Grey Hunters caught in the open, with another brother falling to the shells from the Thunderhawk’s auxiliary armaments.

The Land Speeder Jarngandr lifted over the jungle, and sailed towards the eastern bunker, it’s multimelta glowing. An incandescent burst of heat washed over the bunker, causing the Terminators within to duck. On the other flank, the Long Fang Pack “Eyes of the World Wolf” strode form the jungle and climbed a rocky outcrop, having been delayed by diminutive greenskins swarming amongst the plants. As the bikers in front of them accelerated towards the bunker, the Chaos Veterans of Squad Havoc within let loose with their weapons, blasting one biker out of the saddle with a heavy bolter burst and damaging the controls of another. A lucky bolt round flipped the riderless bike into a rock. The Biker’s returned fire, but their rounds spattered against the rockcrete walls of the bunker.  Atfaradyr’s multimelta roared, knocking the veterans from their feet. Within the bunker, Clavius the Mind Fondler had been in the processes as casting Displacement, teleporting himself towards the landing pad just as the burst hit, and he was sent sprawling to the floor as he emerged in the open.

On the landing pad, Lord Kruult Lewdmaimer directed his terminator bodyguard to ascend the tower, and fired down on the Space Wolves advancing towards his base. To the east, the Predator Hecatomb swung round to take aim at the attack bike, its autocannon smashing the multimelta from the bike’s chassis, then setting the bike’s fuel ablaze. The terminators on the landing pad took aim at the grey hunters advancing through the refinery and riddled one of their number with bolts. The reaper autocannon blasted the Land Speeder from the air, sending it crashing into a cactus, while an autocannon on the Thunderhawk flipped a bike into a stand of trees. The battle cannon missed, obliterating a flock of squawking bird-like creatures nesting nearby. Rising to his feet, Clavius once again cast Displacement, warping forwards into the jungle, then summoned the power of the Machine Curse to crackle amongst the Long Fangs, arcs of lightning flaring across their weapons.

The burning attack bike swerved violently into another biker, killing him instantly and sending his metal steed out of control. The remaining bikers swerved past the wreckage, and zoned in on Clavius amongst the trees, but the inch think plate of his terminator exo-skeleton proved too formidable. On the hill, the Long Fangs strode out of the flaring machine curse and recalibrated their weapons.

The Sun Swallowers ignited their jump packs once more, and sailed into the west most bunker, unclipping meltbombs from their belts and clamping them to the bunker walls. One of their number, brandishing a mighty gauntlet wreathed in blue lightning charged into the Chaos Dreadnought Xuvis, while the last deviated onto the refinery, and could only cry in frustration as Xuvis casually sliced the Blood Claw sergeant in two with his power claw. The meltabombs detonated, and the bunker came crashing down. All three Terminators of Squad Slaughter rose from the ruins, rockcrete and rebars cascading from their tactical dreadnought armour.

The Grey Hunters continued to advance through the refinery, and Olve summoned a shimmering warp portal before them, intending that they be able to use it to step directly onto the landing pad itself. His timing, however, was off, and Kruult seized the opportunity to throw himself through the gate on the landing pad, smashing into a grey hunter at the foot of the refinery. Clavius summoned his powers, and once more cast Displacement, emerging in combat with another grey hunter. The terminator armoured champions proved too much for the loyalists, and they were quickly dispatched, with Kruult barreling into the remaining Grey Hunters, and Clavius once more using his powers to transport himself to the gantry next to Olve.

Xuvis bellowed with rage and charged into a Blood Claw near the shattered bunker, while the Terminator’s reaper autocannon blasted another pack member apart. The Veterans of Squad Havoc riddled the lascannon armed Long Fang with shells, but their krak missile glanced off the armour of another Long Fang with no effect. The predator smashed another bike into glowing fragments with a lascannon, but it’s autocannon jammed, clearly overheating from the furious exchange of fire. Fragments from a battle cannon round from the Thunderhawk shredded the bolters on the remaining bike, so the final rider gunned his engine, and sent his mount screaming towards the landing pad. At the last moment, he skidded the bike sideways into the lift, and cooly fired a round from his bolt pistol which struck the controls, sending the lift skyward.

Xuvis stomped down hard on the blood claw, crushing him underfoot. Wolf Lord Rikkhard sensed he would have to take control, and hurled himself at the Chaos Dreadnought, while the last Blood Claw, finally catching up with the now fallen remains of his pack let loose a howl and rocketed towards Xuvis. The Chaos Dreadnought caught the marine in his claw, and slowly and cruelly crushed the life from him. Rikkhard took advantage, attaching meltabombs around Xuvis’ legs, and then jumping back as the super-heated charges seared through the dreadnoughts ankles and sending it crashing to the ground.

To the east, the Long Fangs desperately fired on the Predator, but their missiles bounced off its skull shaped turret. The heavy bolter armed Long Fang was more fortunately, smashing apart two Chaos Veterans in the bunker in a welter of gore.

On the landing pad, the Terminators of Squad Carnage descended the tower towards the sound of revving bike engines. Kruult quickly dispatched the Grey Hunters at the base of the refinery, while Clavius and Olve battled in a mental dual. Olve got the better of the ancient sorcerer and drove the knowledge of Displacement from his mind. Clavius cried out in a mix of anger and exhilaration at the new sensation, before engaging the Runepriest in close quarter combat. The two traded blows, but neither could gain an advantage.

To the east, the Predator cored the space marine with the missile launcher with a flaring burst from its lascannon, the Veteran’s heavy bolter blasted the Long Fang sergeant from his feet, and a krak missile obliterated the heavy plasma gunner, leaving a lone Long Fang with heavy bolter standing on the hill.

The landing pad lift finished it’s rise, and the lone biker revved his engine, screeching his bike round the Thunderhawk, and lobbing a krak grenade into its engine manifold, starting a coolant leak. Rikkhard ignited his jump pack once more, and landed on the landing pad, his eyes on the next bunker to the east.

The terminators of Squad Slaughter, finally free from the ruins of the west bunker, strode towards the remaining Grey Hunter who had taken cover under the refinery. As they advanced, they were caught in a series of explosions as hidden booby traps were triggered around them. Their armour held firm, and they roasted the last Grey Hunter alive with their heavy flamer.

While Clavius was distracted by the mental dual, Olve cast a Hellfire at the landing pad, melting a terminator from Squad Carnage into a pile of goo. Clavius retaliated with an Acquiescence, but it was reflected back on him. He was, however, used to Slaanesh’s seductive promises, and brushed the glamour aside.

Rikkhard launched himself off the landing pad, landing near the final bunker, and quickly attached a series of meltabombs to it. Back on the landing pad, the biker spun his mount around and attached another krak grenade to the engines. The explosion tore through the Thunderhawk’s hull, igniting its fuel reserves, and a massive sheet of flame blasted out, cooking a terminator, and sending the biker tumbling to his death.

Rikkhard detonated the meltabombs, obliterating the final bunker. A lone Chaos Veteran struggled out of the collapsed building, and was quickly decapitated by the Wolf Lord, who launched himself towards the Chaos Predator, clamping a further meltabomb to its hull which ripped off the track and sent it spinning  out of control, before he ignited his jump pack once more and launched away from the base, his mission complete.

In the refinery, Olve attempted to summon another Hellfire, but the flaring psychic energies had attracted the attention of the denizens of the warp. The air was torn asunder, and a claw reached down, dragging Olve screaming through a crack between realities.

In the aftermath of the battle, Kruult climbed the landing pad. The Space Wolves had been driven off, but at what cost… His forward base and the prized Thunderhawk had been obliterated, and the gains he had made on Krypt were for nought. Growling in rage, Kruult began to gather his forces once more. There was no sense in trying to repair the damage. He would need to fall back to a new position and regroup his strength.

Somewhere, deep in the warp, an entity made of swirling emotions and chaos curled up to sleep as it digested its meal…

Encounters on Krypt

This fiction is based on the encounter's my warband of Chaos Space Marines had during Minisodes' Second Heads 2026 event. A recorded version is available on YouTube at: https://youtu.be/Vznm7ZeK5JU

Kruult Lewdmaimer gazed out from the tower at the far mountains, and considered his next move. Beneath him on the landing pad, his minions, veteran chaos space marines of the Emperor’s Children Legion, busied themselves loading a captured transport vessel. The transport, an archaic pattern of thunderhawk gunship belonging to the Ultramarines chapter of the false emperor’s imperial space marines, had been an exceedingly lucky find. Most of Kruult’s fleet of transports were at least as old as this ship, if not much older still, but in much worse repair, either having been survivors from the flight from Terra all those long millennia ago, at the end of Horus’s crusade, or raider vessels, salvaged or scavenged in the years since.

This vessel, however, had been serviced with respect, and even though it bore the scars of recent battle with Eldar raiders, remained flightworthy. His artificers and technicians had salvaged a number of parts to patch the hull, and had even touched up the blue paintwork. Kruult smiled mockingly. He wasn’t above a bit of subterfuge every now and again, particularly if it meant resources could be maintained. The blue paintwork of the ultramarines would only really be a useful resource close by, in visual range, and even then, the majority of the lickspittle minions of the emperor of mankind would be unlikely to really know the difference between on space marine legion or another. Far more valuable, however, were the shuttle’s transponder codes, its machine spirit ident, and the shockingly easy to hack into generative database of Imperial tactical deployment. With this information in his hands, Kruult was sure that they could escape from this world, Krypt, without much notice.

Ah, Krypt. Yes, thought Kruult. On the whole, this had been a fairly successful venture. Some losses to his warband, true, but an acceptable cost. Upon first landing on Krypt, his forces had been beset by band of Russ’s Wolves. Why the imperial lapdogs were exactly where he had initially decided to raid, a ruined outposts on the outskirts of the capital city, was unknown. Kruult had been pleasantly distracted by a lengthy dual with the young wolf lord, an impressive opponent, and he had relished the chance for a true fight for a change. Unfortunately, the dog had decided to flee just as Kruult had delivered a blow that had splintered the dog’s armour, with the Imperial activating an archotech device that rendered him insubstantial, phasing through the material universe. As a number of Kruult’s personal guard had been eliminated, he had deemed it wiser to retreat and pursue a different objective. Equally fortunately, they were not followed – the Space Wolves had been called away to deal with a band of Eldar raiders within an industrial complex. Perhaps that had been their mission from the start, and the meeting between the Menagerie and the Space Wolves had merely been a chance encounter.

No matter. Kruult had identified an important space port, complete with promethium refinery. This had been a far more valuable target to attack. A motley crew of Imperial lackeys had defended the region; Adeptus Sororitas and Salamander space marines. Clearly there had been some disagreement between those forces, as Kruult had been able to easily exploit the holes in their deployment. 

Enlisting the services of one of his underlings, Slevixius, he had rapidly attacked the space port, personally leading his Terminators to secure the objective. Slevixius’s band had worked well as a distraction, flanking the facility on both sides, and occupying Imperial reinforcements.

 

While Slevixius was undoubtably self-serving, questionably competent and even more questionably loyal to Kruult, he had achieved this task with relish, personally leading a group of his warriors into combat and delivering a crippling blow to an Immolator Battle tank. Kruult frowned. He would have to keep more of an eye on Slevixius from now on. The victory had clearly gone to the idiot’s head, and he was already bragging about how his contributions had been the key factor in the battle, and not, as had been clear to Kruult, the waves of Daemons that had been unleashed by Clavius the Mindfondler to flow across the landing pad, crashing down upon the imperial scum and sending them reeling.

A potentially more worrying development was that of Thygmor Bladegrip. Thygmor was the leader of Squad Havoc, a group of veteran chaos space marines who typically carried out reconnaissance and sabotage activities for the Menagerie. 

In the early stages of the battle for the space port, Thygmor had been possessed by a Keeper Of Secrets, one of Slaanesh’s greater daemons, which, after bursting from the champion’s armour in a welter of gore, had rampaged across the landing pad, cutting down sisters and space marines alike. The daemon had disappeared off after the retreating imperial forces, and Kruult had been glad to see it go. One could never trust daemons, and while useful, there was always a price to pay for their services, particularly in the case of greater daemons.

He had seen Thygmor’s body writhe and distort with his own eyes, yet here Thygmor was once again. Here,  armour intact, with no signs of anything happening at all. Here, directing the loading of supplies, his usual responsibility at this stage of a raid. Kruult had spent aeons in the company of chaos marines, and seen many a servant of the gods torn asunder by such processes. Never had he seen one return, armour pristine, and with no real sign of anything untoward. Thygmor was typically taciturn, as was his way. He had simply grunted at Kruult’s raised eyebrow, and busied himself with directing operations.

Yes, Thygmor would have to be watched as well. Kruult would have to find a quiet moment to consult with Clavius, the warband’s chief sorcerer. Clavius seemed to understand the creatures of the warp, presumably from delving into its depths to summon his mind altering powers. Clavius was, in all probability, the closest thing that Kruult had to a confidant. Kruult had reasoned that the Mindfondler could read his thoughts without permission in any case, and Clavius seemed to be quite content to keep his own thoughts to himself. The fact that Clavius had no real ambitions in terms of leadership, and was far more interested in experimenting on others meant that he was almost trustworthy…

Kruult gazed out towards the distant mountains, glittering in the cold, morning air. He had made his decision. The Menagerie of the Damned would return to Rogan’s World 24beta. This was the practical choice, rather than further raiding. While members of the warband, Slevixius in particular, would complain, wail and protest, now was not the time for more bloodwork. A valuable source of refined promethium had been acquired, much better quality than available to Kruult previously, as well as the Imperial gunship, and, most importantly the discovery of shipping manifests for the subsector, located within the Landing Pad’s data banks. This was valuable intel, that could be used in future raiding trips.

Rogan’s world it was then. Kruult had a base of operations there. To be more precise, he had a number spread across many of Rogan’s Worlds. Rogan had been a particularly prolific Rogue Trader, but one for whom imagination could not be considered a trait. All the worlds Rogan had located towards the halo were named after the Rogue Trader, with no difference except Rogan’s World the Furthest, a particularly blighted planet on which Rogan had met his demise, devoured by one of the world’s primitive inhabitants.

Perhaps Rogan had been simply uninterested in the worlds he found, and craved only glory with regard to his clear success in the speed in which he had located world after world for the Emperor of mankind. The local inhabitants of the cluster  used simple numbers to refer to each world, in chronological order of their conquest. Whatever the reason for Rogan’s decisions, his incompetence in terms of setting up secure shipping lanes, and his unwillingness to ensure local populations were truly subservient to the false emperor had been the gain of not just Kruult, but dozens of petty raiders.   

Below Kruult, the Menagerie had finalized loading checks, and were starting the Thunderhawk’s engine in preparation to leave Krypt. Kruult turned, and climbed down the ladder. He would be back one day. There were more valuable prizes to be taken from this world, after all…

Thanks to Blast, Eavynids, Swearwolf, Adrian, Kahteh, Tudorking1, Shyrka and of course Ed for an amazing weekend, and some equally amzaing photography of the event. You can see Ed's Minisode video about the event here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F-rgw8fPfB0