Hello fellow 40k-ers. I just recently started a Kill Team narrative campaign and I am writing lore and sotry bits for each force as well as the overall campaign based on the games. Comments and critiques are welcome and I hope you enjoy.

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The Chronicles of Kill Team Torrent

The heavy door slid upon, revealing a small observation deck. The room was bare, devoid of decoration save for the Aquilla emblazoned beside the transparent viewport and a single plain table in the center. A small lumen strip in the ceiling provided dim lighting, just enough to show the steel grey deck as opposed to the void of space. A large figure stepped into the room, amazingly quiet despite its bulk and imposing armor. The giant waited for a moment, helmeted eye lens gazing at the other occupant of the room. Without looking the man within gestured, and the armored figure approached.

Both were similarly armored, the blessed plates of power armor standing resolute against the foes of the Imperium. The differences were in the details. The newcomer towered over the other, armor colored midnight black save for a silver arm and shoulder with the other shoulder a crimson red emblazoned with a winged blood drop. The smaller man was clad in dull silver, shorter by more than a head yet seemed just as imposing as the giant beside him.

“Brother Sargent Andius Milonius reporting as ordered, Inquisitor,” spoke the giant. Large hands rose and with a hiss the helmet was removed. An aquiline face revealed itself, features sharp and regal. The lumen illuminated a bald head, almost giving a polished appearance.

“Thank you, Brother Sargent,” replied the Inquisitor, eyes still gazing down at the world below. The ship stayed motionless, the world rotating slowly beneath them. Despite how far they were, plumes of inky black smoke showed in the upper atmosphere. Twinkling lights flashed far away, motes of explosions between ships fighting in the void. Behind the world and the violence, a dark purple-pink scar pulsated in the distance, a constant reminder of what is at stake.

“Congratulations on your last mission. Perfectly executed as expected.”

“Thank you Inquisitor.” The marine nodded, “We will be ready for the next mission soon.”

“Good. However, there has been a change in plans. Your next mission has been placed on standby. A new mission takes precedent now.”

The Blood Angel looked down at the Inquisitor. “Sir? What new mission?”

The Inquisitor turned, facing the marine directly. Grey eyes peered at Andius contemplatively. “Tell me, do you know of the Tarot?”

Andius nodded slowly. “I know of it Inquisitor. I have no talent reading it, however there are those within my chapter that do.”

The inquisitor walked away from the view port, making his way to the table without hurry. “I received a message from a fellow Inquisitor. They and their staff have some talent reading the Tarot and decided to pass along a message.” An armored hand picked up a slim datapad. “Apparently there is great danger in our future.”

Andius barely repressed a snort. “When is there not danger?” An eyebrow rose as the Inquisitor chuckled, he never saw one do that before.

“Indeed. However my colleague is frequently correct with Tarot reading so I have learned to heed her warnings. It seems you and I play a part in the danger to come or play a part in potentially reducing it.” He handed the Blood Angel the datapad. “Here are your orders. On Purity there is a hive city named Innocence. You are to assemble a new kill team, go to the city and establish an operating zone. Your secondary objectives are to find objects associated with the symbols you will find on the datapad. They will play a part in the over-all conflict in the Campaign.”

Andius looked through the information on the pad, brow narrowed with concentration and mounting confusion. “Inquisitor, why is the Death Watch being sent on this mission? Surely there are Astra Millitarum forces that are more suited for a retrieval task. Or one of the Adeptus Astartes chapters can send a team if it is so important.”

“Because your primary objective is to eliminate the Xenos threat going to the hive. A Genestealer cult is projected to be there as well. We already have enough to deal with on Purity with the forces of Chaos, we do not need to fight Tyranids as well. Besides, this is an Inquisitorial matter, and we need forces that can be trusted.” He looked up at Andius. “Are you to be trusted?”

Andius scowled, his features twisting momentarily with anger before smoothing away. “Of course, sir.”

The Inquisitor smiled. “Peace friend, a jest. Nothing more.” He walked back to the viewport. “Assemble your intrusion team Sargent. I will end resources and reinforces as other teams return to the ship.”

The marine nodded and turned to leave. The voice of the Inquisitor stopped him at the door. “May Sanguinus watch over you.” Andius hesitated, then bowed slightly. “May the Emperor protect us all.”

***

Andius stepped off the lift, walking down the hall lost in his thoughts. Another marine stepped out of an alcove and fell into step with the Blood Angel. Similarly attired save the colored shoulder pad was royal purple emblazoned with a white cog and hammer. The newcomer smiled, a silver ocular augmetic reflecting the light. “What are our orders Blueblood?”

Andius scowled at the other marine. “I thought I told you to not call me that Opius.”

Opius smiled wider, the augmetic blinking off and on in a similcrum of a wink. “You did. You did not order me not to however.”

A deep sigh emanated from the Blood Angel. “Our orders are to form a new team from the marines currently on the ship. Long term elimination and retrieval mission. First objective is to establish a staging zone and pave the way for elements to join us. Therefore, we need to build a balanced team capable of prolonged missions in a hive city environment.”

Opius absorbed the information, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Basic sized intrusion team is 5 marines. I believe Bastion is available, saw him going to the galley. A heavy weapons expert will do well in the confines of a hive. Especially Cael, he is as stubborn as his gene line which will come in handy. Longshot will be a good pick as well. Keen eyed and a good scout.”

Andius nodded in agreement. “Go, recruit them. I will get the last member. One of the new ones.”

Opius stopped and looked surprised. “Really?”

Andius continued to walk, “Yes. It is time they learned.”

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Brothers in Blood, Records of Blood Angel Deployment on Purity

The wind blew mournfully, rising and falling in tone as it travelled between the ruins of hab buildings. Small plumes of dust rose with the wind, settling on rock and metal, eroding the angles and shapes of the hive. Some of the desolation was natural, caused by time and elements aided by neglect. The more recent was caused by violence, damage from weapon and person. The two causes of decay were the primary reminders of the grim universe: malice from sentience or indifference from time.

Large red figures strode into the ruin, even the dust from the planet could not swallow their crimson livery. Each strode with varying degrees of watchfulness, heavy angular weapons at the ready. All but one bore the mark of a winged blood drop upon one shoulder, the smallest carrying it upon his chest. To the casual eye they moved out of sequence, staggered. Yet while each one looked in different directions, their posture spoke of synchronization, of overlapping fields of view, focus.

Despite their unity however, there was an underlying tension. It was not born from just being in a hostile unknown place, it ran deeper. The smallest was at the fore, face bare and young. He wore a look of concentration, but occasionally slipped. Small glances aimed at a much larger and fully armored individual beside him. Even fully encased in armor, the taller one bore a hint of unease as well. Behind the pair two sets of figures walked slightly apart as well, in a way that did not speak towards tactics. The two taller and broader marines looked about the surroundings, occasionally sneaking glances at the other pair of shorter marines who ignored the looks with lofty insouciance.

“Sir, you must command,” spoke Lorenzo on the private vox link, hefting his bolt rifle and checking the grenade launcher attachment.

“Do you believe I am not?” Leonardus retorted, regretting the sharp tone. One hand rested on the power sword at his waist and the other held his bolt rifle in an easy grip. “I am aware that I am the Sargent, and that the mission relies on my orders and judgement.”

“Then act like it brother,” Lorenzo replied softly. “Stop looking at the other two, as if watching for their reactions and approval. You are the Sargent, not they though they may rue you for it. You have nothing to prove.”

Leonardus sighed, another look stolen as the squad moved deeper into the detritus. “Of course they rue it. Look at them, how they must regret the circumstances. They must feel threatened by us, about what the future must hold for them.”

He received a snort from the other intercessor marine. “It is the will of Lord Guilliman and it will be done. We are the future and the faster they accept that the better. They are intimidated by the Primaris.”

“Are they?” Lorenzo looked askance at his Sargent who continued. “Are you not intimidated by them? They fought for years while we slept in stasis, they fought and bled as they are against the horrors of the galaxy. They survived the hell that was the Devastation. What laurels do we bear? What accolades have we earned?” Leonardus’ head turned and peered into the dense hive before them. “Of course we have something to prove to them. We have everything. We are not just cousins of greater stature, we must show that the Primaris are worth it, and that we are all sons of the same gene sire. We cannot demand their trust and camaraderie, we must earn it.”

Silence was his reply and the squad continued to weave between fallen stone and metal, picking their way through the rubble. A large hole in the side of a hab block leered at them, a gaping wound that devoured the light and hiding all within. Even when Leonardus activated the thermal imaging or the dim light aspects of his helmet the interior of the hive was clad in shadow. “Nicodemus, Rafael,” Leonardus throttled a curse when the intercessor looked to him but the scout marine looked to one of the tactical marines for a moment before paying full attention to the Primaris Sargent. “That is our point of entry. Enter 50 meters into the hive and stand sentry, we will follow after you give the all clear.”

Nicodemus saluted, clenched fist to chest while the shorter scout bowed his head and soon the mismatched pair sped up slightly, moving smoothly towards the hole. Lorenzo scanned the way they came while Donatelus and Michaelus took up opposite viewpoints, plasma gun and heavy bolter at the ready.

Minutes passed before the vox clicked and Rafael spoke softly, “Entry point clear, no signs of recent movement nor active power. Holding as ordered, your path to us is clear.”

“Acknowledged, remain on overwatch as we approach.” In the battle signs of the chapter Leonardus gestured and the two tactical marines and the two Primaris marines followed the tracks left by their path finding squad members, and they two were swallowed by the hive.

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On the Edge of the Blade, a tale of the Grim Legion

“I still cannot believe this is working.”

The massive figure sitting in the command throne turned his head towards the speaker, his helmet a parody of a smile that echoed the face within. “Oh? And why is that my champion?”

The marine standing next to the seated figure clenched a giant fist, the ends of the clawed fingers grinding together with tortured screeching. “It is ludicrous.”

“No, it is Chaos, literally so.” The two marines watched space around them flash with exploding munitions and dying ships. Minions of the Corpse Emperor and denizens of the greedy Pantheon grappled together, spilling blood into the void of space. A bluish white world spun beneath them, almost uncaring of the whole sale slaughter in its heavens. The Maledictum Cicatrix, the great divide of the galaxy blinked, amused by the loss of life and eternal conflict. “With so much turmoil and confusion, on a scale even greater than before the fall of the Gate, now is the perfect time.”

“For what?” The standing figure looked down with a frown creasing a scarred and tattooed face. “Revenge?”

“Endurance. Profit. And vengeance.” A dark chuckle escaped the baroque armor as the standing marine rolled his eyes. “Do you not realize the opportunity Rindar? With the Imperials and the Eyedenizens fighting, we can slip between the fleets, mocking both. Now we approach the planet, acquire material and bodies, and leave while they fight over the looted corpse.”

Rindar Cal wanted to argue yet there was no denying the results. The Grim Legion flagship was indeed taking advantage of the confusion. Running colors that marked them a chapter of the Adeptus Astartes, a sign before they became excommunicated, they were able to slip past the beleaguered Imperial picket. They came close to being discovered, but the defenders ran into the escorts the Grim Legion brought from the Chaos side, having convinced them of their admittedly accurate renegade status. The two skirmishing forces engaged and the renegade ship had left on an oblique angle, away from the conflict.

“Now we let our former friends fight our former comrades, we pillage some of the outlying hives and weapon depots and leave before either side can stop us.” The seated figure’s tone was thick with arrogance, self-satisfaction. The head looked up at Rindar, red eye lens glowing in the darkened bridge. “Now, there is a chance for something beyond filling our stores. A mission that appeals to you.”

Rindar’s power fist relaxed slightly. The frown faded, replaced with a feral grin. “Command me Lord.”

“Lord is it? Very well.” The seated figure pointed at the rotating hololith before them. An amber rune growing larger over the planet’s overlay. “There. That hive is under protected. Take a team, take what you can, then before you leave overload the geothermic reactors. They are dormant now, but it should not be difficult for them to be reactivated and used against our enemies. A grievous blow like that will ruin much.”

The fist clenched again, with hunger instead of frustration. “Gladly. We will leave a lasting mark on this world.”

***

Rindar walked down the halls of the ship, his footsteps swift and filled with purpose. A gaggle of the Rabble stopped, heads bowed low as he walked by them. Rindar stopped and pointed at one, “Where is your master?”

The cultist replied, a hoarse voice shaking from fear and wonder. “Quanos lectures the Rabble, Lord. He goads us, making us ready for your service.”

“Tell him to assemble the best of you. He is to attend to me on the departure deck. We have work to do.” The renegade marine strode on, ignoring the cultists as they bowed low, their excited chatter as meaningless as the noise from the engines. His fist constantly clenches and releases, eager for bloodshed. A giant scar graced the back of the fist, obscuring whatever image was below it. Any artificer could have fixed it yet there it remained. A reminder of old oaths, old indignities, new pain.

A shadow appeared before the champion, waiting for him to pass and then joining him in step. “What did the Lord want?” asked Aschal Rex. The renegade was garbed much like his counterpart, in armor devoid of ancient allegiance. Yet the armor had runes carved into it, symbols and signs that Rindar’s armor lacked. An immense weapon was slung over his back, a much larger version than the titular bolter almost all marines carried.

“A mission, of vengeance and material,” Rindar replied. He glanced over at his companion. “Are you as bored and tired of hiding on the ship as I? Are you ready to spill the blood of our foes?”

“Yes,” the gunner hissed. A hand touched an octed carved into its chest plate. “Praise the dark Gods, it is time to slay in their name.”

Rindar frowned. When the Grim Legion cut their ties, he stopped believing in the divinity of the far away God-Emperor. Yet he hadn’t placed in new faith in the Chaotic Pantheon, and Ashcal’s piety irritated him. Still, he was a comrade from when the chapter broke its chains, one that he could trust in an entire chapter of oathbreakers. “Yes brother,” Rindar said easily. “It is time to slay.”