Crumbling Empire (40k)

Silent Angels

Sicarus entered the hall, once it would have been a grande hall, but with the decay and dust it could no longer hold that title. As he stepped forward he once again saw the silent rows, 10 abreast and 4 deep. Upon a raised platform stood another 10, and sitted in the middle one seated. Above hung skeletal flags, once glorious victory banners from an age past. Light flooded into the room from the stain glass windows that flanked both sides, and dust lazily fluttered in the sunlight. Beneath his feet and leading up to the seated figure was a tattered carpet, once it might have been red, but little remained of it.

Before him stood the Silent Angels.

Each power armour suit stared directly forward, eeriely it appeared as if they saw something he did not. The layers of dust coating their armour gave him some comfort. For he knew it had been some time since any of them had moved. He believed them to be empty, but his predecessor claimed they were filled with statues of stone.

He began his steady approach to the seated figure, his augmented leg giving him a limping gait. Behind each of the figures on the platform was a giant suit of armour. Each one held its helmet in it’s hand, reassuringly showing that the armour was indeed empty. There at least. He was told these were suits of armour called terminator armour.

He reached the seated figure. The figure did not wear his helm, it was placed down beside his throne. Each hand clasped his throne arms tightly, and his stone grey face looked filled with sorrow. His eyes were closed. Sicarus knew that this was the only one of the Silent Angels that still lived and breathed, he was told the rest died long ago.

“My Lord. I bring news that requires your attention,” whispered Sicarus. There was no response, and he stood there for a few moments. He then cleared his throat and repeated loaded.

“My Lord. I bring urgent news that requires your attention”

From this louder tone the eyes upon the statue opened, and dust crumbled from its eyelids. The golden coloured eyes that opened seemed filled with a faint life. It opened its mouth, but all that was expelled was a wheezed whisper. Sicarus quickly brought up a flask of water to his Lord’s mouth. It took one glup of water, and a small amount trickled down his chin cleaning a track of dust from his face.

“What… news? Have… have my brothers arrived?” whispered the statue with a tinge of hope.

“I’m afraid there is no news of your brother’s sire. It has been two hundred years as far as I can glean from the reckons since we last heard from them,” replied Sicarus.

“My brother’s will come. The glory of the 12th company will return. Shall it not brother Caylus?” whispered the statue, once the Captain of the 12th company. As he spoke the name Caylus he turned his head towards one of the silent suits of armour to his left. Caylus once the Forge Lord of the 12th Company.

“Caylus died over 300 hundred years ago Lord. You have sat here immobile for 200 years. I have a request from terra here,” spoke Sicarus. He pulled a rolled scroll from within his robes.

“Poor Brother Caylus. Don’t worry Caylus the Chapter Master himself promised us fifty battle brothers. The ranks shall swell again. They are in transit Caylus. Is that not right Adept Tomas?” The Captain’s eyes blazed with hope.

“I am Adept Sicarus. Adept Tomas died long ago. There are no new recruits. Terra asks that the suits and equipment we have here are reassigned to help the formation of a new chapter. Will you send them a response?” replied Sicarus angerily. He grew more and more impatient that he got the same questions every time he returned to the Captain. He was beginning to surmise as to why his predcessor took his own life. This Space Marine was but a shadow and a mockery of the Adeptus Astrates he has read about.

A tear ran down the Captain’s face. “The company shall rise again. Give me word when my brothers arrive” spoke the Captain. His eyes closed.

“Sleep well my Captain. Perhaps one day your dreams will come true”

Sicarus turned around and left this hall of sorrow and memories.


Within the Celimax belt Duke Alexander Cyclades surveyed the excavation. Stretched out before him was a large quarry cut into the side of the asteroid, servitors on spider like legs scuttled about dropping chunks of rock into heavy trucks idling at the edge of the quarry. A white marble conical tower poked out of the bland grey rocks and dirt of the asteroid.

Standing besides the Duke on a rocky outcrop was a stooped over figure wearing a heavy red robe, and a large bearded man wearing a bulky fur and beneath that a suit of plate mail. Duke Cyclades wore a pseudo military outfit, with large shiny medals from wars never fought and clipped to his belt was a scabbard containing a sword of exotic design.

Duke Cyclades stroked his goatee.

“How much longer until we can enter Magos Thorax?”, asked the Duke. The red robed figure coughed, the coughed sounded like the Magos was within a metal box.

“The scans cannot penetrate deep into this rock. The entrance is unknown, Duke Alexander Cyclades,” spoke Magos Thorax of the Magos Archaeologica, Head of Lateral Research. He turned to the Duke, deep purple eyes blazing out from underneath the hood.

“I thought the priesthood of Mars had access to mankind’s finest technology? How can they not see through a few layers of measly rock? Am I not paying you enough?” exclaimed the Duke, as clenched and unclenched his mechanical gold hand impatiently.

“My Lord, perhaps some time relaxing back upon the Magnificent is needed? You have had a long and tiring journey to get here. I’m sure the Magos is working as fast as is feasible. I have in my recent travels obtained some interesting new spices and sweets,” spoke the large bearded man in a booming voice. The force field surrounding them, holding a bubble of air for them to breathe, shimmered briefly.

“Well take me back then, I’ll return once you have uncovered something… acceptable of my attention,” whined the Duke. The large man pulled out a compact device with a small display and several flashing lights. He pressed a button on the side.

“I’ve sent for a flyer to collect you Duke,” said the large man.

Standing over the abyss

Cirinandril stood on the bridge of her Dragonship Iyanden, looking out across the stars. She had finally arrived at the Araneae system and she knew that a long struggle with many losses lay on the horizon. She had seen darkness in the future for this system and although she did not know exactly what would be the catalyst, she knew this system was destined for destruction or worse, corruption. Out there amongst the stars, millions of aliens were going about their daily tasks, oblivious to what was about to come. The warp, however, had given her a clear vision – the Tyranids were coming.

Kaptain ShinyToof

Kaptain ShinyToof smiled, he was currently daydreaming of his Waaagh. He was a Warlord once, and he had a big Waaagh. All the boyz followed him in his favourite ‘ship da Spoona.

“Dat woz a gud ship” Kaptun ShinyToof muttered to himself.

Not long after the launch of the Waaagh from a cluster of worlds called the Atlantis Rift by the pink skins they ran into the biggest fight they had ever had.

“I liked dem Bugs, not as squishy as Grots” Kaptain ShinyToof thought aloud. He scratched the stubble he had got the painboyz to implant onto his face. He though it made him a more refined Kaptain, he had seen pink skins with it and liked the look. It had taken quite a while to find enough pink skins with the right length stubble and colour.

The bugs as Kaptain ShinyToof called them were the never ending tide of tyranids. The tyranids in question were from a splinter of hive fleet Kraken. With great luck for the Scicalus sector both the ork Waaagh and the splinter fleet exhausted all there resources in an epic battle. The orks were only victorious due to the luck of Kaptain ShinyToof (then known as Warlord TinGutz).

Kaptain ShinyToof getting upset with the lack of proper scraps and too much shooting decided to take drastic action. He needed a scrap, a good scrap. So he found the largest Tyranid vessel and rammed it. Ramming as Kaptain ShinyToof though was the quickest way to a scrap. With luck the Kaptain rammed straight into the vital organs of what was the Hive Queen of the fleet, this caused the entire fleet to steadily fall into disarray. Soon after ramming into the Hive Queen Kaptain ShinyToof and his best boyz were carving their way through the hordes of creatures within. At the end only Kaptain ShinyToof returned to his ship, declaring himself victorious he looked around from the Spoona’s bridge.

All the tyranid vessels just drifted, and his fleet was but the Spoona.

This happened in 992.M41.

“Grogspan, I’m bored. You ‘noes what we need?”, declared Kaptain ShinyToof.

“No boss”, squeaked a small grot who was currently polishing Kaptain ShinyToof’s shiny boots.

“Wez need a fight! But first I wantz a fleet of RAMMING ships!”, bellowed Kaptain ShinyToof.

Welcome to your Adventure Log!
A blog for your campaign

Every campaign gets an Adventure Log, a blog for your adventures!

While the wiki is great for organizing your campaign world, it’s not the best way to chronicle your adventures. For that purpose, you need a blog!

The Adventure Log will allow you to chronologically order the happenings of your campaign. It serves as the record of what has passed. After each gaming session, come to the Adventure Log and write up what happened. In time, it will grow into a great story!

Best of all, each Adventure Log post is also a wiki page! You can link back and forth with your wiki, characters, and so forth as you wish.

One final tip: Before you jump in and try to write up the entire history for your campaign, take a deep breath. Rather than spending days writing and getting exhausted, I would suggest writing a quick “Story So Far” with only a summary. Then, get back to gaming! Grow your Adventure Log over time, rather than all at once.


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