#stormtemplar

Written by @grand-master-alrik-ville and @shaso-cinnjin

Chapter 1: Old Friend, Old Enemy M41.072

Shas'la Hel'ves ran as fast as his hooves could carry him. The mont'gue'la had ambushed his convoy out in what they thought was safe territory. Hel'ves looked behind him and stopped. How could he not have thought about them. Raising his pulse rifle, Hel'ves ran back to cover the civilians as they ran past. Just about 60 meters behind were the mont'gue'la that the Imperium call Chaos Marines. He knew he was no match for them, but he had to buy the civilians time to get away. Just as he was about to turn and follow them, Hel'ves noticed a little girl trip, falling face first into the churned up ground. Hel'ves slung his rifle and launched himself towards her, sliding down next to her to pick her up.

“Come on, you have to get up. We cannot stay here.” Hel'ves stated as he tried to get her on her feet.

“I can’t. My legs are too tired”

“Then I shall carry yo-” Hel'ves was cut off by the cackling of a Chaos Marine as his shadow descended up Hel'ves. Seeing the devilish and barbaric looking axe raised high in the air, Hel'ves turned his back to the marine, attempting to protect the child as best he could. He waited for the pain and the cold of death to come, but all Hel'ves heard was the sound of a loud metallic CLANG, and then a wet THUD as something landed next to him. Turning his head, the chaos marine laid next to him, and a different presence stood over him. Looking up, all Hel'ves saw was a white cape emblazoned with a silver cross and crossed lightning bolts, and a terminator standing above.

“Run, get your people to safety and tell your Shas O’ that he must press his forces into the flanks if we are to win this war.” The tall marine ordered, his shield raised to protect both him and Hel'ves.

“Who…who might I ask are you, so I know who to tell my Shas O’ to thank for rescuing us” Hel'ves hesitantly asked.

“I am Grand Master Alrik Ville, of the Storm Templars. He will know what to do beyond that. Now go!!” and suddenly the marine dashed forward into the mont'gue'la, no fear in his voice, and he could only sense duty seeping from him.

The distress call from the evacuation convoy rang loudly in his ears as he shot through the sky, the fire billowing its orange and red glow from its location becoming more and more visible the closer he came to its last known location, he feared the worst yet hoped for the best, a hope that would soon take life as he spotted the untainted popping of frantic bolter fire and the crackle of power swords.

As he crested the cliff of the canyon where the ill-fated convoy rested he saw them, weathered armor glinting with orange and yellow as their frames became silhouetted from the muzzle flash, their tall shadows flickering against the trees surrounding the area, fighting valiantly against the bloodied hounds that surrounded them.

Arvack looked upwards, “Incoming projectile! Take Cover!” he screamed as he and his battle brothers dove into what cover they had left.

A thunderous crash was shook the ground as the projectile made impact over their heads, a ring of dust now hanging over them, the cries to the blood god falling silent.

Arvack leaned around his cover bringing his bolter to bare, in front of him was no crater left by stray ordinance but the rising form of a Tau battlesuit gripping the decapitated head of a bloodletter tron from its body by the suits gauntlet. A single red eye turned to look at Arvack, scanning what Arvacks assumed was his left pauldron,

“Storm Templar… It's been so long.” the suit spoke in flawless gothic, “What happened here?” it asked.

“We were ordered by the Grand Master to hold this position to provide cover for your “people” from this convoy while they retreated.”

“I owe both you and your commander a debt, Arvack.” it spoke turning its attention to the recovering horde as it began to reinitialize its assault.

“How’d you know my name?” Arvack inquired, firing his bolter at a charging berserker, blowing its head into gory chunks across the canyon floor.

“I know many things, we’ve met before on the flaming spires Jukaa, you were but a scout.” it said fondly as the T’au began to mow down cultists with its burst cannon, each popping spectacularly in dazzling blue explosions.

“That cannot be true, you lie! It’s been 200 years! That commander’s long past, he is but ash now.” Arvack spoke briefly, his attention becoming more drawn into the defense of his squad.

“Doing pretty well for a pile of ash don’t you think!” the T’au chuckled. “Shas’O Cinnjin, it’s a pleasure to work with your chapter again, Sergeant.”

Arvack looked back at the tall suit, its snow white limbs the same as those he saw blackened by soot back on Jukaa, the same T’au that fought beside him back on that infernal planet.

“Lets go, I’ve cleared a path!” the T’au shouted pointing towards an opening in the trees, “We’ll meet up with more reinforcements that way.”

Alrik rammed his shield into the first Chosen as he charged into battle with the traitors. Swinging his axe in a downward arc, Alrik cleaved the pathetic traitor in two before spinning around and using his shield as a club to crush the skull of another Chosen. Running further towards the convoy, Alrik could see the Tau battle suit aiding his men.

Alrik gave an amused HMPH, as he barreled through some more traitor marines, carving them into pieces. “Cinnjin, you never cease to show me that I can trust you” Alrik mused as he slammed his shield into another.

“Third squad, form a defensive ring around the Tau, the 4th company will be here to push back these fools,” Alrik ordered as he made his way into the quickly forming ring and took position at the back of Cinnjin, “Hello, old friend. Miss me?”

The caped terminator barreled his way into the perimeter forming around Cinnjin,

“Hello, old friend. Miss me?” he asked warmly, Cinnjin knew only one astartes whom would greet him so kindly.

“Alrik, it's good to know you still draw breath” Cinnjin chuckled as he ignited two traitors with the beams of cyan spraying from his pack mounted plasma rifles.

“You’re most kind for aiding us, I fear the more inquisitive among our kind will brand you traitor, you know my offer from all those years ago still stands, I won't ask you outright to come, but if an unpleasant fate begins to manifest in your chapters future, beyond your control, you are always welcome to pursue your goals here, as an equal.” Cinnjin spoke with slight concern in his voice.

The ring closed around them, Chaos of all forms sprinting from the treeline over the steadily increasing mound of corpses, blue and orange flashes making the shadows flicker and grow in spastic pattern. The crack of thunder hammers slamming ceramite and the pop of pulse munitions hitting home filled the night as the defenders grew ever fewer.

The ground began to shake and the clouds opened above, beams of bright blue shot down from the stratosphere, a beam of incinerating heat traced the outline of the group, annihilating the surrounding area. The flick and hum of incoming thunderhawk and tigershark engines sang chorus for the symphony of munitions they let loose as the entire canyon, save for the convoy, became naught but atoms before the combined might of the allies combined forces.

“Hel’ves told me about your desire to flank them, looks like they finished off the others just in time to save their poor commanders.” Cinnjin laughed, his eye lenses began shrinking to pinholes to better cope with the blinding light. “Tis’ a Victory, Alrik, even the smallest can make all the difference don’t you think?”

Alrik smiled under his helmet as he hacked at a Chosen, cleaving the traitor in two. “Cinnjin, you know I must say no to the offer. My loyalties are to my Emperor and his Imperium, regardless of whether it is a shadow of its former glory or not. Maybe in a different time, our Empires would see that we would work better as an Alliance. However, I fear that the Imperium has grown to a set in its xenophobia to ever realize that.” Alrik stated with a hint of sadness. Slamming his shield into a charging possessed marine before cutting him in half, Alrik looked behind him to see a charging chaos marine with a melta bomb going for Cinnjin.

Alrik pushed his Terminator armor as best he could to get as much speed as he charged for the traitor. Unfortunately for the traitor, he didn’t notice until it was too late the charging behemoth of cermatite and muscle. Using his shield as a club, Alrik decapitated the traitor in one undercut swing, sending its head and the bomb flying.

“All units, engage these traitors with extreme prejudice, leave none standing” Alrik ordered.

“My friend, our chapter is one of very few that ally themselves with…xenos. While we keep that under black tape, we are the only ones who try to help those that have helped us.”

“Aye, I know where your loyalties lie, it was never a matter of that, of sides.” Cinnjin spoke sending a punch into a whirling screamer, the force of his onager gauntlet sending a shockwave into the treeline.

“It was about consequences, how sometimes the black ink gets washed away, it’s not an offer of annexation into the empire but of protection, so that you may serve your people even if they grow hate you, a thought that I dread.” Cinnjin spoke to the terminator as it smashed the skull of one of his traitor brethren beneath his bootheil.

Cinnjin then let out a sigh. Briefly noticing trees falling from deep in the thick foliage, the only warning of what was to come.

With a blood curdling scream the Debaser of Slaanesh slammed into the defensive perimeter, its wip like tendrils cutting through armor like it was the air itself. Cinnjin fell silent and began to crouch forward.

“You may want to move.” He said motioning for Alrik to step away.

All that stood in Cinnjins place after that moment was a cloud of dust a faint blue trail and a very, very shattered sound barrier.

Cinnjin shot fourth over the Debaser, grappling the two large horns cropping out from the head of the beast, kicking his vector thrusters around he began to rear the beast towards its own, it sending chunks of eviscerated heretic flesh through the air in spectacular gory sprays.

With a crack and a thud it was clear the commander had had enough, using his onager gauntlet to strike the beast so that the pressurised air punched clean through it and the ground, its head exploding in a purple-red haze coating him in blood.

Cinnjin them motioned to the path he had previously cleared and for the Astartes to follow.

“The evacuation should be complete, come!” the bloodsoaked commander yelled, pointing towards the salvation of the landing-zone.

“It's time we show these creatures the meaning of what we stand for!”

“If it comes to that Cinnjin, then I will accept your offer.” Alrik stated as he walked past the Debaser. “Templars, move to the LZ and secure the perimeter. Double time it” Alrik broke into a run.

“Cinnjin, I pray that the path we tread will never see us become enemies. As we both know, the path to ruin is paved with good intentions. My Emperor discovered that ten millennia ago. I fear your people are due for it as well. I just hope it will not see a good man like you taken from this galaxy.”

“I fear the same” spoke Cinnjin, “I’ve taken… "steps” to see that it doesn't. Until we meet again, Alrik.“ With those final words Cinnjin reignited his retros and shot into the air. His departure shaking the ground he once stood upon, the blue haze of his jumpack becoming ever dimmer as he rose up into the stratosphere.  

Chapter 2: New Age Diplomacy M41.109

Alrik stared through the glass of his flagship The Iron Storm. Down below were the burning remains of the Storm Templars home world Valencia. The day had come for Ahriman’s revenge. Though it had been many centuries ago, back when Lanius Pathiel had walked among their once proud halls and fought alongside the greatest of his chapter’s heroes. Today was a tragedy in the history of the Storm Templars, but one the Storm Templars will recover. Until the time for revenge is right, however, the Storm Templars must disappear, to give their enemy a false sense of security. “All ships, lock onto our warp jump point. We make for the Eastern Fringe. We have allies there that will show us hospitality. All hands, prepare for Warp.” Grand Vicar Remuldus stepped up behind Alrik, a puzzled expression on his otherwise stone-like face. “Grand Master, surely you don’t mean to barter with Cinnjin. Regardless of whether he is an ally, the wider Imperium would see this as…” Alrik raised a hand sharply, cutting his High Vicar. “Our people need a home, Remuldus, and our chapter needs a place to bury or dead. Cinnjin has offered us a home, and I intend to take him up on it. You know as well as I that he is an honorable man and a friend of our chapter,” Alrik turned to look at his friend, a long red scar running diagonally down his face, “and if we are to have our revenge for those that died down there, and for the stain on our chapter’s history, we must become like ghosts. What better way than to hide where not even Ahriman would think to look. Trust in me, Remuldus.” Remuldus stood emotionless, his face set. Suddenly he gave a sigh before look Alrik in the eye with a smile. “Once more my friend, you have proven yourself. I see your wisdom and logic in this course. May the Emperor guide our actions as he has done before, and let us go to our esteemed friend.” Alrik and Remuldus clasped gauntlets in a sign of mutual respect and kinship. Alrik turned to look our the view port. “All ships, initiate warp jump on my mark…..mark. With that, a series of over 30 warp rifts opened as the fleet made its jump to Tau space, bound for a friend they had not seen in years. A faint mechanical whining sound from within the suspended suit, chem injectors and nutritional drips retracted back into their inactive positions, Cinnjin woke from a dreamless sleep, something he had become accustomed to in his age. At least it took an edge off the fatigue, and the infernal nagging of the water caste. He did not wake to the usual hum of busy drones tending to battle damage or the flicker of his inbox prompting him within his heads up display but a wailing siren. “Ambush!” he thought lurching upright, tearing the still unattached wires and tubes from the walls and various equipment that allowed him brief rest. “Status report, Por’O!” he screamed into his communicator. “We’ve got jump readings off our starboard side, I’ve scrambled the fighters but they’ve caught us at port. They’re transmitting an unknown signal through the rift, can decipher it!” the Por”O replied. Cinnjin caught a faint flashing in his peripheral vision, a tiny screen flicked on and off as it read out its message. “Stormborn” “Recall the Fighters!” He spoke, with a taste of worry on his voice. “Get the EMT on the bridge and clear a landing zone upon the planet's surface, today is about to be a very dark one, and I refuse to let it dim any more.” “But Shas’O, it could be an ambush or a-” “Do as I say Ki’neth, trust in me.” Cinnjin cut the Por’O off, his voice adding a palpable calm to the situation. “Y-yes, Shas’O.” Just then the void tore open to birth a dozen vivid swirling holes, spears of silver and steel pierced the veil into T’au space, each one an intricate maze of spires and stunning stained glass sanctuaries depicting the heroics of heros long past, each one a grey reminder of the power of imperial might and the solemn reminder of engenuity long lost to time and tragedy. A few entered real space in ragged condition, their might hulls porus with shell holes torn to ragged ribbons by the lashing tendris of ordinance powerful enough to end trillions of lives in seconds. Cinnjin saw this, his mechanical fist clenching into a vacuum tight grip, it was the first time he felt rage in a very, very long time, the only calm in his mind came when he saw the flagship, its colossal silver hull ornately detailed and etched into swerling branches of silver and marble, its weathered prow still carried the remains of enemy vessels strewn across its titanic width. It sat protectively at the head of the fleet, like a lioness guarding her cubs. Now all Cinnjin felt was sadness, sadness and a hint of hope. He was sad that they had to come, but glad that they did. What would follow would need to be a time of rebuilding and trust, the Storm Templars have shown their true face, they need help, and now it was the T’au’s turn to be what the universe had been missing for fourty thousand years, kind. Alrik stood straight as he let his personal serfs attach his artificer armor to his neuroports. He had intended to come in his terminator armor, but Ahriman had seen it torn to ribbons. He stared at the remains of his once glorious axe, a relic of his friend, now shattered at the hilt. Alrik supposed now was the time for it to return to its old master, as well as his shield. When the Serfs returned with his new relic blade, he could scarcely believe what he beheld. A long polearm, a gigantic spear wreathed in symbols of lightning and the symbol of justice: The Hammer. His personal artificer never ceased to amaze. “Alrik, my friend, it is time to meet with Cinnjin, before his men get too restless.” Remuldus walked in before giving a low whistle. “Very fitting, I would say. Your weapon matches too. You look more like a sentinel.” “I embody that role. I am a sentinel to our chapter just as we are sentinels to our people. I agree with you friend. What is the Grand Paragon doing?” “Currently tending to his Paragons and the needs of our people. Should I recall him?” “Negative. We shall handle this. I think we need everyone we can get. Come lets meet our friend.” The Command Suit strode down the pristine halls towards the airlock trailed by a neat formation of fire warriors, each of their helms a pitch black, their pauldrons bearing the personal markings of their commander. Two warriors on either flank of the formation held a banner, one bearing the Iconography of the Storm Templars chapter as the contingent remembered it, and the other bearing a simple T’au symbol. Behind them proceeded numerous medical teams, unsure what the condition of their allies was they prepared for the worst. This was the same across the dozens of T’au ships rising to meet the sizably larger imperial vessels, the only one coming close to matching their size was the Flagship Drakken a prototype vessel with a massive centered railgun that bisects the ship right down to the picketed prow, a piece of equipment the T’au learn to fear from the Damocles Crusade adapted to meet their needs. “Wait to hail them before boarding, once we receive that it is indeed them, we will proceed” Cinnjin spoke across his fleet via intercom. “This is not an exercise in force, but compassion, this is where we prove we are different. Be kind my fellow crewman, be kind.” With that Cinnjin received the all clear, the airlock clicked and puffed oxygen visibly through its vents before opening. “Hello, old friend.” Alrik stood at the airlock as it opened, his silver and gold suit shimmering in the passageway lights. His spear was mag-locked to his back, a sign of respect and peace to his old friend. Once the airlock opened, he looked up at the battle suit, the now dull red scar very visible across his face. “Hello, Cinnjin. I wish this were on a better occasion but I must take you up on your offer. Our home system has been razed and our home world destroyed.” Alrik stepped aside to show his wounded men and the many civilians that waited in the hangar. “Many of our apothecary's were killed in the fighting, but we were able to recover as many as we could.” Cinnjin stepped aside, and his retinue followed in perfect sync to allow the medical crews aboard. “Your people are welcome here on Tash’var, and you are permitted to build upon orbiting moons to create a new “Chapter Monastery” as you call it. Shame really, I always hoped to see the Stormhold.” Cinnjin spoke, his tone serious with a hint of grief. “You have my utmost condolences. However I believe the grieving will have to wait unit things get settled.” Cinnjin then gestured down the hallway. “Shall we make room for the wounded, we should move around the ship so we can better talk without remaining ourselves an obstacle.” “I can guarantee that it would have been a sight for you, Cinnjin. I agree. If you would follow Remuldus and me, we can talk in my personal chambers” Alrik turned slowly before stepping off in a slow march, keeping his head forward, never letting his eyes wander. They walked down silver and marble halls, etchings depicting heroes of eons past. Here and there, picts displaying heroes in terminator armor holding off hordes of orks and traitors. Some depict massive combats with the Eldar. There is only one that depicts a dreadnought, its fist raised high, ready to crush a Tau battle suit. Cinnjin followed Alrik down the weathered hall of the flagship, wounded lining the walls on either side. They passed underneath gothic arches and past ancient statues. Cinnjin couldn’t help but feel the worried eyes of imperial crewmen eyeing his every move, he didn’t exactly blend into his surroundings. “Worry not about how they feel Cinnjin. They are hurt and scared. They will understand in time.” Alrik stated without looking. The group came upon two ornate blast doors. Placing his hand upon a pad beside them, Alrik opened the doors to his chambers. The main room was a rather modest hosting room, filled with furniture to sit upon. Lining the walls were shelves containing books and terminals with data streaming across them. Alrik’s personal serfs came forward before kneeling before him. “How may we serve you, Grandmaster” they spoke in unison, no questions asked about Cinnjin and his retinue. “Please, gather some tea for those that can drink, and whatever our friend Cinnjin here is able to have that we may be able to provide” “I thank you for your hospitality.” Cinnjin spoke, moving around the humble chamber briefly admiring the smell of burning incense. “Your chapter is welcome here, Alrik. The moon of Il'cea has land that is yours to govern. Save you defend it and its people. A condition I know you have little issue with.” “If there is anything specific you need we will attempt to accommodate you.” Cinnjin said turning to face Alrik. “I would like to ask of I could borrow some of your stealth teams. Despite their expertise in stealth operations, my fourth company was decimated trying to fight our traitorous cousins. We need to train our scouts going to that company.” Alrik turned towards Cinnjin. “We also need help with construction and possible terraforming. To being anymore than my people would be to invite war upon your cadre unless you were to join in an alliance. Like Commander Farsight did” “We would be honored to instruct your men, my kind are most reasonable when it comes to these things, it will not be difficult to sway things to better suit you. We’d even be willing to share equipment given time.” Cinnjin gestured towards the nearest of his bodyguard, the comparatively small warrior stepped forward, placing a disc shaped object upon the table. “A gift to soothe these difficult times, it is a shield generator, same make and design as mine, however more fitting to your “aesthetic”. The shield bore a simple design, not more than a simple disc with rivets dotting its circumference, and a single word etched in low gothic centred upon its crest. It read “Virtue”. “I saw it a fitting gift come our next meeting, albeit I had hoped to present it to you under better circumstances.” Alrik picked up the device and attached it to his shoulder. He could see the device shimmer as it dispersed the energy field around him, melding itself with his armor’s built in shield. He nodded approvingly. “A fine gift, one I am happy to receive, regardless of circumstances.” Alrik turned looked at Cinnjin. “In exchange, if your people are so inclined, we can teach your men further in the ways of melee combat. I unfortunately don’t know how much our technology would ban of use to you” That would be most appreciated, in time I’m sure your men would be willing to share with us your knowledge, though I do have to keep an air of ignorance about the truth regarding your technical equipment, the Ethereal caste still think me ignorant to the reality of the “warp” as you call it. They must be given time to better realize its complications, lest I suffer the wrath of knowing such a dangerous knowledge. A bit ironic don't you think?“ Cinnjin laughed. “All you must do now is allow us to help you, you are in good hands.” “Your men are welcome aboard our ships. They will be escorted by my men to keep any descendants in line. I must make a further ask that no mention of the Greater Good be made. We have our own version of which works for our people. I do not wish to cause any complications in our relationship as it stands. I do hope you understand.” "Understood, though you were already a whole coming together to work towards something greater, you already fight for a greater good, just one separate to my own. I however will instruct the more zealous of my crew to hold their tongues when it comes to Ideologies.” Cinnjin the paced over towards the stained glass window, a giant figure depicted in shining golden armor. “I think he may be proud, Alrik, I know little of your Emperor but if he is half the man you are he’d be proud, of you, of what you stand for.” "He was the most powerful man in the galaxy. Could persuade entire armies to lay down their weapons without a single shot being fired. Could mend machines with but a single touch and obliterate an enemy without a single motion being made. He was the epitome of what man could become. Now he is nought but a skeleton upon a failing throne. Few realize what he gave up to save his Imperium from the claws of the Chaos gods and their traitorous followers. He burned his own beloved sons soul from existence, so that he may never be brought back into being. In doing so, he sacrificed his immortality. He was a god among men, a true god. He merely wished to see mankind rule the stars, not alone, but the dominant species. I believe he would have attempted to have your Empire join the fold, if not ally with us. I merely wish to see a part of his vision come true.” "He did not know us, he knew a cold galexy that knew no warmth, I’m sure he could see the value of kind not his own given better times.” Cinnjin then turned away from the everwatching gaze of the imparator prime towards Remaldus. “I presume this to be your second? I wish to become acquainted with you, space marine.” Kindly spoke Cinnjin, extending a hand in a formal human gesture of trust. Remuldus looked at the hand before slowly taking it in his own. "I am Premier Vicar Remuldus Teuton. I am what other space marines call the High Chaplain of my chapter. I lead my brothers in prayer before, during, and after battle and in times of peace. However I am not his second. I am merely his spiritual counsel. Unfortunately, his second is seeing to his men. The first company was the rearguard in our retreat from our sacred home and took heavy casualties.” “It's a pleasure all the same, Remuldus, I look forward to hearing what you have to say, a holy mind is strongest in times of darkness.” Cinnjin praised, gently shaking Remuldus’ hand and taking note of the weathered and battered skull the Chaplin wore, the flickering of candle light highlighting the cracks lining the faceplate. “Now If you’ll allow me, I’d like to speak to you, Alrik, and perhaps a High Paragon, if one so much as remains after such a tragedy. I have a matter I’d like to discuss, in private.” Alrik went over to a command console. “Remuldus, go ahead and head to the chapel. I think now would be a good time for one of your sermons.” Alrik stated as he typed into the console. “Aye, Grand Master. As you command” Remuldus turned and walked out of Alrik’s chambers, his black armor melding with the shadows around him. “Randrid to the Grand Master’s chambers please, Randrid to the Grand Master’s chambers” Alrik called over the ship vox before shutting off his link. “So, what did you need to discuss, old friend?” “I need to share some grim news my own, we’ve managed to create a means of traversing the Damocles Gulf, after the tragedy of our fourth sphere expansion a wormhole opened in the silent zone, a path of void left by Hive Fleet Gorgon.” “We received a distress call through it, the same frequency as our missing expansion built a nexus of thousands of star forts around it and dove into it find our lost friends, this succeeded, however we drew a putrid ire.” “The sickly legions of the Death Guard appeared from deep space in numbers never seen before, a million fronts opened in an instant and the slaughter of millions took place, millions of lives that I am failing to save. They push ever closer to the nexus, and if they breach it the heart of our empire will be exposed to the destructive forces of chaos. I will not ask you to fight for us, for me, but the Empire is fighting a losing battle, and we need all the help we can get.” “I only wish to discuss such a thing in the presence of your Paragon due to the horrid eldritch powers at be, his expertise may be of some use, or at the very least he shield my words from the prying eyes of the warp.” The blast doors opened before the terminator armored figure of Randrid as he stepped through. “You have need of me, Grandmaster?” Randrid questioned, giving a momentary glance towards Cinnjin. “Yes High Paragon. Our friend here has told me that the forces of the Death Guard have launched a full-scale attack upon their Empire. He is fighting a losing battle. While I won’t necessarily say that he isn’t asking for our help militarily, he is asking for counsel about how best he can face this threat. Also, Cinnjin, this room is psychically shielded from all but Randrid here.” Alrik started with a hint of pride. “I see. Indeed, Cinnjin, you face an uphill battle if you face the Death Guard. Veterans one and all, and cursed by Nurgle to be nigh unstoppable. Depends on who leads this force, that will answer what your best course of action is. Truthfully though, the Death Guard are near peerless in psychological warfare, now more than ever. Your best chance is to kill any and all psykers, known to them as Plaguecasters. The rest would be to concentrate as much heavy firepower on any vehicles and heavy infantry they bring. Create kill zones to trap any light infantry or their regular troops. Finally, whatever you do, do not engage in melee with any cultists that look more like the undead than people. Those are called Poxwalkers. Any man they kill will rise and join their ranks.” “Thank you for sharing such wisdom.” Cinnjin said bowing slightly. “I’ll be sure to share such knowledge with my colleagues, as well as the good you’ve done for us.” “I would also like your paragon to study one of our drones taken from such a conflict, your Imperium shuns such thinking machines due to their susceptibility to dark influence, however we suffer not even the tiniest disobedience with our designs, the philosophy of our kind engrained within every fiber of their being, even to the point where they exhibit a sentience of not corruption but a desire to continue their intended task, even doing so after suffering such damage that they should fesable be incapable of doing so. Adapting some portions of our design may lead to a decrease in the creation of servators.” “Sometimes I think they may have souls their very own.” Alrik and Randrid looked at each other before chuckling. “My friend, we shun the use of fully autonomous AI, free thinking machines, for a reason. As long as the AI is controlled, we do not mind whatsoever. The reason we use servitors is because they are either criminals where even the best of rehabilitation programs would fail to turn results or trainees who have failed their trials and are too maimed to be returned. We take no pleasure in doing so, but regular humans can only do so much. Though you may notice we have many more serfs then you think” Just as Alrik makes this statement, his personal serfs return with drinks, passing them out to everyone. “Indeed, the war with the Men of Iron brought about the end of the first Empire of Man, with their reliance on technology being the catalyst. It is okay to use technology to benefit, but there is a line between benefit, and a crutch” Randrid spoke before sipping his tea. “However, we can study your drones combat footage and tell you the best course of action about how best to deal with them, if only to give your people more time to consolidate and hold. I will say, your builder drones are of interest” “You must think me a fool.” Cinnjin said with a sigh. “I know the risks, our drones are no crutch, but partner’s. The notion I was attempting to make clear is that in time your stock of servators may dwindle and although your chapter will still be capable it may be hindered without a workforce.” “And what causes the peculiar interest in our construction equipment?” Cinnjin said, motioning for his bodyguard to relax. “How quickly they work, their ability to continuously build. As it stands, we have no enginseers or techpriests to build our ships and knowing them, they would take forever. We meant no offense to you or your technology. Specifically you, but we have seen many other septs rely almost entirely on their technology solely.” Alrik apologized. “Nor did I mean any offense.” Randrid stated, locking eyes with Alrik for a moment. “Me and Alrik seem to agree on one thing. We will give you our full support to hold back the tide. We take care of our allies.” “We hope to do the same.” Cinnjin spoke kindly. In most cases septs attacked are in development, a phase of vulnerability where the infrastructure for a "living” workforce has not yet been implemented. I can see where your misconceptions come from.“ "If you provide the blueprint we will be happy to build you most anything, lest it require too much material at that time. The defense of the Empire comes first and the Ethereals only trust you with so much requisition, a stance I have worked to remove since our last meeting.” We can build you more than just a few cruisers if that's what you are asking.“ A drone then Calmly buzzed into the room, its eye lense staring curiously at Alrik. With a beep it drew back towards Cinnjin. "This drone will be the connection between you and me if we aren’t face to face.” Cinnjin said fondly, physically greeting the drone by placing a hand utop it. "Very well my friend.” Alrik tapped into his coms. “I need a servo skull to my quarters with blueprints for a strike cruiser.” Within moments a servo-skull floats in from a vent and displays the blueprints in front of Cinnjin. Cinnjin waves his hand over the holo-pict, designating the blueprint as vital information to his system, a faint but rapid click can be heard as his focal lens take even the tiniest the details with sharp precision. “I’ll upload this to my ships memory banks for data-transfer once we reach a dry dock, I am most impressed with your chapters personal changes from what is usually the standard for Astartes navy ships.” he praised. With a final click he returned his focus to Alrik. “I believe these talks have been fruitful. Once the entirety of your fleet is void worthy we’ll guide you to our space docks for further replenishment of provisions, then we will direct you to your new residence. Now if you’ll excuse me I must make my way back to my ship before they worry too much, our men aren’t as fond of each other as we seem to be, something that I hope to change yes?  Regardless it was a pleasure meeting you Randrid, you as well Alrik. Oh. Don’t forget to contact me immediately if you need anything, you are our guests after all. ” With those final words Cinnjin motioned his retinue to return to his ship, all silently standing and returning to formation behind their commander. Whether they were more relaxed after their ordeal or even nervous to begin with could only be guessed at. “Until I see you next, old friend.”

The years went by quickly, the Storm Templars rebuilt their fortress monastery with the help of the Tau builder drones. The fleet of the Storm Templars grew rapidly, its ships being completed in the spans of months rather than years. A trade route was established, with markers being placed to establish a route that would take any Imperial forces away from Tau planets. Given time, the Storm Templars returned to their former glory.