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Black templar narrative; From games workshop
Topic Started: Dec 7 2005, 10:48 PM (46 Views)
Captain Andy
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The Arm Of Retribution
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I liked this story so much i thought it should be posted here.

Becoming a Black Templar is no easy task. Combat is both your teacher and your judge, and failure means death. This narrative campaign lets you experience part of this dangerous journey.

The Black Templars, being a fleet-based Crusading Chapter, need many new recruits to fill their ranks. Not only do they lose many Space Marines in battles across the galaxy, but they also lose many recruits in training.

Despite this attrition, there are thousands of citizens across the Imperium who dream of becoming Black Templars. Many of them have spent their entire lives in preparation, honing their martial skills in their planetary defence forces or even the Imperial Guard.

Those brave souls who have declared their intent to join the Black Templars are known as "Expectanten." These aspirants have a long and dangerous journey to survive before they can even bear the title of Neophyte.


n the past 10,000 years, the Black Templars have established Chapter keeps on hundreds of worlds that they have cleansed in the name of the Emperor. One such world, Barbarossa IV, lies in the Segmentum Solar and is not far from the Armageddon system. Though most of this productive agri-world is idyllic and tranquil, the northern wastes are a different story – they are full of dangerous animals and plant life capable of slaying the unwary in a heartbeat. It is in this treacherous wasteland that the Black Templars established their Barbarossa keep. The reason was simple: any Expectanten that survived the trek through the wastes might have a better hope of becoming Black Templars Neophytes.




Expectanten Bremen
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It is here that we join Sergeant Bremen, a seasoned warrior of the Barbarossa IV Planetary Defence Force. After years of harbouring the secret dream of serving with the Black Templars, Bremen has recently declared his goal and taken on the mantle of Expectanten. Despite his years of fighting xenos incursions and putting down heretical rebellions, he knows he is but a babe in the woods in the eyes of a fully trained Black Templar Initiate.

With the well wishes of his former PDF comrades and a writ from his regimental Priest, Bremen sets out through the northern wastes of Barbarossa IV. Will he survive the dangerous journey and find the keep? If so, can he survive the Black Templars' rites of initiation? The outcome lies in your hands now.

For over a week, Bremen has made his way through the northern wastes toward the rumoured location of the Barbarossa keep. As he has closed on his destination, the dangers have increased while the temperatures have decreased. Now, he is growing increasingly jumpy as dark shapes move through what little vegetation survives on the frozen tundra surrounding him. Bremen checks the charge on his laspistol and presses on through the wastes.

Meanwhile, word of Bremen's journey has reached the ears of Neophyte Utrecht of the Black Templars. It was not long ago that he was an Expectanten, and the story of the brave Sergeant stirred Utrecht to action. Leaving his Templar brethren behind, Utrecht has entered the wilds in search of the adventurous traveller. Utrecht's only hope is that he can reach the Expectanten before the creatures of the wastelands do.


The odor of ozone from laspistol shots clung to Bremen as he stumbled across the hard tundra into a clearing. "Guess the Wasteland Stalkers aren't just campfire myths," he thought to himself as he tucked his v-blade under his arm to load a new charge pack in his pistol.

"You have travelled far and survived much, Sergeant," a voice said behind him.

Bremen whirled to see a Black Templars Neophyte standing in the clearing, his arms crossed over his armoured Aquilla chest plate. The Neophyte's black and white armour stood out sharply in the bleak grey and brown wilderness. Bremen stared, silenced by the sudden appearence of the Templar apprentice.

"I'm at an advantage, Sergeant Bremen — I know your name and your quest. I am Utrecht, Neophyte to Initiate Frederick of the Black Templars. Now, though, I suggest you duck," the armoured warrior said.

Years of service had Bremen obeying the command before Utrect's bolt pistol cleared the holster. Bremen rolled forward along the frozen turf as the rapport of three bolter rounds hammered his ears. He pushed himself up to one knee and looked over his shoulder — steam curled out of three holes in the crumpled form of a Wasteland Stalker at the edge of the clearing.

Bremen had completely forgotten about the cold as he ran beside the Neophyte through the northern wastes. However, he was keenly aware of his dwindling number of charge packs for his laspistol and the trail of Stalker corpses in their wake. He asked Utrecht if he had more ammunition.

"Fear not, we are almost at the edge of the Stalkers' hunting territory. We can resupply at my teacher's camp up ahead. I am sure he will want to meet an Expectanten of your calibre," Utrecht said between bolt pistol bursts. It was the first time he had used that title for Bremen.

After years of fighting that had made him a grizzled soldier, Bremen was surprised to feel pride at the recognition. He forgot about the number of charge packs as he opened fire with a renewed sense of zeal and faith in the Emperor's guidance.

Utrecht paused just outside a group of trees that circled a clearing. The sounds and light of an open fire filtered through the trees.

"I will lead. Do not speak unless spoken to. You have survived the wastes, but that is nothing next to what lies before you. Darkness is upon us," he whispered to Bremen. Utrecht turned, parted the boughs, and stepped through. Weapons holstered, Bremen followed.

"Neophyte Utrecht of Frederick reports as ordered, my lords," Utrecht proclaimed to the group that stood around a roaring fire. Firelight and starlight reflected off polished black armour and fearsome weaponry.

"So, young one, you have returned with your pup in tow, and no worse for wear, it seems," a voice boomed back, amplified by an in-helmet voxcaster. "Did he traverse the wastes with honour?"

"Yes, Brother Sergeant Hermann. He fought bravely for one so untrained and ill-equipped. Both his reputation and his evident prowess tell me that he will be a worthy Expectanten and more," Utrecht replied.

"Have a care, Neophyte," said another amplified voice. "Those judgements are for Initiates and above. I shall have to revisit your training in humility."

"Forgive me, m'lord Frederick," Utrecht said while bowing. "My joy in seeing the advancement of the Emperor's cause oft gets the better of me."

"Yes, yes. We've already lost enough time waiting for you to collect your comrade," a robed figure said from across the flame. "He can prove his worthiness to enter the Neophyte ranks immediately. We will need all the help we can muster to expunge the xenos from this world."

"Indeed, Hierophant Theodorich. Let us tell this young warrior from Barbarossa of the task that lies before us," Sergeant Hermann replied.

Unbeknownst to the farming populace of Barbarossa IV, the Black Templars keep in the northern wastes has been abandoned for some time. The Black Templars left behind only a few caretaker Servitors to maintain it as they continued their Crusades. Since then, an Ork mob fleeing the aftermath of the Armageddon War stumbled upon this near-vacant stronghold. The greenskins made the keep their home as they licked their wounds and prepared for another Waaagh!

After a keep is mothballed and the fleets move on, the Black Templars send small groups back to check on the fortresses every few decades. One such team has returned to Barbarossa IV to find the Orks in the old keep. After a few day's reconnaissance, the team discovers why the Templars never got an emergency signal from the custodial Servitors. An Ork transmitter near the keep is creating so much signal noise that no transmissions can cut through it.

The Black Templar team has one option: destroy the Ork transmitter so the emergency beacon can be heard by the nearest Crusader fleet.

Secondary explosions continued to flash across the tundra as the Black Templars fell back into the night. Howls of wounded Orks followed them into the trees, but that was all — the Greenskins were still trying to figure out what happened.

"We have done it, Brothers," Hermann said after checking a sensor plate on his left gauntlet. "Our keep's emergency beacon is broadcasting clearly now. The fleets are no doubt on the way this very moment."

"The Greenskin filth will pay for their defilement of our keep," Frederick grumbled. Utrecht nodded in agreement with his mentor.

Clear of danger, Theodorich pulled aside a wild-eyed Bremen. "You fought well for an Expectanten, Sergeant Bremen. When our ships arrive, you will follow me to our battle barges and begin your training as a Neophyte."

"As for me," Theodorich continued, raising his voice for the team to hear. "It is time I left the service of the Inquisition for a while to serve alongside my battle brothers once more. This threat requires a Black Templars Chaplain, not a Hierophant."

The three inducted Templars raised their armored fists and cheered into the cold night.

"Welcome back, Reclusiarch," Hermann said.






Posted Image

"Should you ever feel agony for the loss of your Brothers due to enemy guns, bear through it with a stern smile and let your enemy know that you will get into combat soon enough. His judgement cannot be avoided!

Should your charge falter under heavy resistence, roar your devotion in His name and amount whatever strength you have left at one enemy point and crush it utterly! Let the enemy feel your pain by turning their's into agony!

Should you lay beaten and dying on the field, laugh with pride for even in death our enemies will fear us, leave them with a scar that will haunt them till the time of their retribution!" - Chaplain Valorus

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Ariakas
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Nice, maybe you should copy it to the fantasy-forum.
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Captain Andy
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The Arm Of Retribution
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ok ill do that, good idea,
Posted Image

"Should you ever feel agony for the loss of your Brothers due to enemy guns, bear through it with a stern smile and let your enemy know that you will get into combat soon enough. His judgement cannot be avoided!

Should your charge falter under heavy resistence, roar your devotion in His name and amount whatever strength you have left at one enemy point and crush it utterly! Let the enemy feel your pain by turning their's into agony!

Should you lay beaten and dying on the field, laugh with pride for even in death our enemies will fear us, leave them with a scar that will haunt them till the time of their retribution!" - Chaplain Valorus

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