The Horus Heresy Book 3 - Extermination - Ebook download as PDF File .pdf) or read book online. The Horus Heresy Book 3 - Extermination. The Horus Heresy VII - Inferno - Ebook download as PDF File .pdf) or read book online. The Fall of The Horus Heresy Book 3 - Extermination. Uploaded by. Horus Heresy Book 3 Extermination Pdf Download. Share on Facebook. Share on Twitter. Please reload. This site was designed with heipretotarli.cf .
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Show More. SIGN UP FOR MY LATEST BLOG POSTS. Horus Heresy Book 3 Extermination Pdf Download. July 1, Share on Facebook. Share on Twitter. The third and final part of the Isstvan trilogy. This book details the aftermath of the Isstvan V Dropsite Massacre, and two other major battles. Torrent Contents. Warhammer 40k - Horus Heresy Book Three - Extermination. Horus Heresy Book Three - heipretotarli.cf MB; Please.
Cestus had kept to Astartes quarters after that. The fact that transit was inbound to extract them from Vangelis and ferry him and his brothers to Ultramar and their primarch and Legion filled Cestus with relief. He longed to embark on the Great Crusade again, to be out on the battlefields of a heathen galaxy, bringing order and solidity. Word had reached them that the Warmaster Horus had already departed for the planet of Isstvan III to quell a rebellion against the Imperium.
Though Cestus craved the esoteric and was fascinated by culture and erudite learning, he was a warrior. It had been bred into him. To deny it was to deny the very genetic construct of his being. He could no more do that than he could go against the will and patriarchal wisdom of the Emperor. Such a thing could not be countenanced. So, Cestus sought the seclusion of the meditative sanctum.
Normally, Cestus would have rebuked his battle-brother for such 20 Ben Counter a disrespectful remark, but he had formed an especially strong bond with Antiges, one that transcended rank, even of the Ultramarines. It was a bond that had served the battle-brothers well, their whole much more than the sum of their parts as it was for the Legion in its entirety.
Where Cestus was governed by emotion but prone to caution, Antiges was at times choleric and insistent, and less intense than his brother-captain. Together, they provided one another with balance. Battle-Brother Antiges was similarly attired to his fellow Astartes.
The sweeping bulk and curve of his blue power armour reflected that of Cestus, together with the statutory icons of the Ultramarines. During his sojourn on Ithilrium that aspect of his duty had been briefly suspended. Antiges was right, he did desire to be back with the fleet, fighting the enemies of the Emperor. He managed to maintain the chastening expression for only a moment before he smiled broadly and clapped Antiges on the shoulder. A narrow promenade, lined with ferns and intricate statuettes, quickly gave way to a wide plaza with multiple exits.
The Ultramarines, who spoke with warm camaraderie, took the western fork that would eventually lead them to the dock. Turning a corner, at the lead of the two Astartes, Cestus was hit square in the chest. The impact, though surprising, moved the Astartes not at all. He stared down at what had struck him. Quivering amidst a bundle of tangled robes, a litho-slate clasped reassuringly in his hands, was a scholarly-looking human.
The pale scholar cowered beneath the towering Astartes, shrinking before his obvious power. He was sweating profusely, and used the sleeve of his robe to wipe his head before casting a glance back in the direction he had come from in spite of the monolithic warriors in front of him. The gesture appeased the Ultramarine, who backed down a little. Cestus frowned when he saw it, knowing full well who else was on the space port with them at that time.
Most of the frothing, brown liquid within spilled down his immense beard, which was bound in a series of intricate knots, and swept over the grey power armour of his Legion. The Blood Claw Brynngar had just knocked prone and halfconscious crawled groggily on his belly in a vain attempt to get clear of the ebullient Wolf Guard. The three Blood Claws left standing amongst the carnage of broken chairs and tables, and spilled drink and victuals, eyed the Wolf Guard warily as they began to surround him.
The two facing Brynngar leapt in to attack, their shorter fangs bared. He took the punch of the second on his rock-hard chin before smashing him to the floor with his considerable bulk.
Brynngar swung his gaze in the direction of the speaker, and his one good eye brightened at once. When he looked up again, he saw a broad and burly Wolf Guard coming towards him. The Astartes was an absolute brute, his grey power armour wreathed in pelts and furs, numerous fangs and other feral fetishes hanging from silver chains. He wore no helmet, his long and ragged hair swathed in sweat together with a beard drenched in Wulfsmeade, swaying freely about his thick shoulders.
Brynngar lunged at the Ultramarine, who barely dodged the sudden attack. Brynngar roared and came at the Ultramarine with renewed vigour. The manoeuvre almost worked, but Brynngar turned out of his trip, casting aside the empty tankard and using his free hand to support his body. An overhand blow followed as Brynngar sought to chain his attacks, but Cestus moved out of the striking arc and unleashed a fearsome uppercut that sent Brynngar hurtling backwards.
With the sound of more crushed furniture, the Space Wolf got to his feet, but Cestus was already on him, pressing his advantage. Staggered after the barrage, the Wolf Guard was unable to respond as Cestus drove forward and hooked both arms around his torso. Using the weight of the attack to propel him, Cestus roared and flung Brynngar bodily across the muster hall into a tall stack of barrels.
As he moved backwards, Cestus watched as the rack holding the barrels came loose and they crashed down on top of Brynngar. Dazed and defeated, and covered in foaming Wulfsmeade, a brew native to Fenris and so potent that it could render an Astartes insensible should he drink enough, Brynngar looked up at the victorious Ultramarine and smiled, showing his fangs.
Antiges, standing alongside his fellow battle-brother, made a face. The other Ultramarine backed away a step and nodded. Brynngar put his arms down and nodded back with a broad smile. The venerable wolf had fought the Kolobite drone-king single-handed.
Are the drinking holes of this space port insufficient sport, Brynngar? Did you build this muster hall for just such a purpose, I wonder? Lacquered wood panelled the walls, and a plentiful cache of barrels, filled with Wulfsmeade, were stationed at intervals throughout the hall.
Huge, long tables and stout wooden benches filled the place, which was empty except for Brynngar and the groaning Blood Claws. Tapestries of the deeds of Fenris swathed the walls.
War is brewing in the Veridan system and we are to be reunited with our brothers in order to prosecute it. We are heading to the space dock now. Brynngar cast a quick look over his shoulder and made a dismissive gesture. A wide, flat plain of plate metal stretched out from its many station houses and listening spires, ending in a trio of fanged docking clamps where the various visiting craft could make harbour and take on or drop off cargo.
Arriving at the main control hub of Coralis, the three Astartes found themselves in a tight chamber that overlooked the dock. Thick, interwoven cables looped from the ceiling and dim, flickering halogen globes illuminated the bent-backed menials and cogitator servitors working the hub. A backwash of sickly yellow light thrown from numerous pict screens and data-displays fought weakly against the gloom.
An azure holosphere was located in the centre of the chamber, rotating above a gunmetal dais. It depicted Vangelis space port in grainy, intermittent resolution and a wide arc surveyor net that projected several thousand metres from the surface. A large, convex viewport confronted the Astartes at the far wall through which they could see the magnificent vista of real space. Distantly, writhing nebulae patterned the infinite blackness with their iridescent glory and fading suns.
Starfields and other galactic phenomena were arrayed like the flora and fauna of some endless obsidian ocean. It was a breathtaking view and stole away the fact that the recycled air within the control hub was 28 Ben Counter sickly and stifling.
The insistent hum of latent power could be felt through the reinforced plasteel floor. Saphrax was a bald-headed warrior with a long scar that ran from his left temple to the base of his chin: another souvenir from the Kolobite.
Cestus often mused that none in the Legion were as straightbacked as Saphrax, so much so that he seemed permanently at attention. Dependable and solid, he was seldom given to great emotion and wore a stern expression like a mask over chiselled stone features. Pragmatic, even melancholic, he was the third element to the balance that existed between Cestus and Antiges.
There were three astropaths in residence at the hub, and more in the space port at large. They were sunk into a deep, circular vestibule, just below floor level, and swathed in shadow. Dim lights set into the edge of the vestibule cast weak illumination onto their faintly writhing forms. A skin of translucent, psychically conditioned material was draped over the trio of astropaths like a clinging veil.
Other, less obvious, wards were also in place. All were designed to safeguard against the dangerous mental energies that could be unleashed during the course of their duties. Withered and blinded, the wretched creatures — two males and a female — like all of their calling had undergone the soul-binding ritual; the means by which the Emperor moulded and steeled their minds, so that they might be able to look into the warp and not be driven insane.
Astropaths were vital to the function of the Imperium; without them, messages could not be communicated over vast distances, and forces could not be readied and coordinated. Even so, it was an inexact science. Messages both sent and received by the Astra Telepathica were often nought but a string of images and vague sense-impressions.
All we know for certain is that they come from a distant source. Thus far, only part of the message has reached us. Our astropaths are endeavouring to extract the rest as I speak to you. Beneath the protective psy-skin, he could see their wasted bodies, swaddled in ragged robes.
He heard the hissing of sibilant non sequiturs. The astropaths drooled spittle as they spoke, their sputum collecting against the inner material of the skin enveloping them.
Their bone-like fingers were twitching as their minds attempted to infiltrate the empyrean. Cestus pitied his fragility and that of all non-Astartes. There was a single message; the pattern does not repeat.
We think perhaps it was an astropathic death scream. Blood spurted inside the psy-skin covering them and looked hazy and bright viewed from outside it. The wasted limbs of the astropaths pressed against the material, forcing it tight, their muscles held in spasm as they writhed in agony. Cogitators set around the hub above them were spewing reams of data as the astropaths fought to control the visions rushing into their minds. Smoke clouded the already hazy interior of the psy-skin as it rose from their decrepit bodies.
Consoles sparked and exploded as wrathful electricity arced and spat. It earthed into the wizened frames of the astropaths, carried by the wires and cables, now little more than human conductors for its power. As one, they threw their heads back and a backwash of pure psychic force was unleashed in a terrible death scream that resonated throughout the room. The astropaths became a conduit for it, the strength of 31 Battle for the Abyss the psychic emission made many times more powerful by the volatile state of the warp.
Walls shuddering against the onslaught, the lights of Vangelis space port went out. The banks of cogitators were like hive-stacks rising above the streets formed by the exposed industrial ironwork of the deck. The various bridge crews sat in sunken command posts like arenas or deep harbours. A strategium table stretched out before it from which he could raise an orrery display, showing the ship and its foes wrought in rotating brass rings.
High above the sprawling bridge was a decked clerestory where the astropathic choir of the mighty warship were slaved. The command throne, raised upon a hard-edged pentagonal dais, was the seat of a god. Zadkiel was that god, looking down upon a city devoted to him. He had a voice like crushed gravel and one of his eyes was blood-red, surrounded by a snarl of scar tissue.
Even without the injury, his granite slab of a face would have made him a figure of fear even among his fellow Word Bearers. He was obedient, deadly and fiercely loyal, all fine qualities in an underling. Another Astartes, Ikthalon was a company chaplain, demagogue and expert torturer. Unlike Baelanos, he wore his helmet in the presence of his commander, a skull-faced piece of armour with a pair of discreet horns on either side of the temple.
Zadkiel sat back down in the command throne. It was sculpted to accept his armoured frame, as if he had been born to take command of this bridge, to be the god of this warship. He was a youth compared to the other Astartes on the command dais, gaunt of face with a keening hunger in his black eyes, a strange quirk of his birth. Reskiel was a veteran of many battles, despite his age, and he wore the newly fashioned studded armour of his Legion proudly, keen to baptise it with the scars of war.
Where Baelanos was the dutiful lap-dog, Reskiel was the eager sycophant. Zadkiel did not trust him, but he trusted his Word and so he was tolerated. They did not know the details of the Word, of course. They 34 Ben Counter did not need to know.
It was enough for them that they laboured under the wishes of their primarch. Amongst the piteous menials, a tall figure stood out. Looming from the darkness, he was swathed in black robes and bore the cog symbol of the Mechanicum around his neck on a chain of bolts. Odd protrusions in the sweep of his long robes suggested further augmetics, and his withered hands, crossed over his abdomen, offered the only clue that Magos Gureod was indeed human.
At the order, he withdrew into the shadows again, doubtless heading for the sanctum and deep communion with the machine spirit. Weapon Master Malforian was in residence, barking harsh commands to crews of sweating orderlies and gang ratings, toiling in the steam-filled half dark of the cluttered deck.
Full racks of torpedoes stood gleaming, fresh from the Martian forges. The ordnance deck stretched across the breadth of the Furious Abyss beneath the prow, and like the rest of the ship it was wrought in a bare industrial style that had an elegance of its own. Realising he was being summoned, Malforian attended to his captain at once. Your will shall be done.
The vessel, an ancient Retribution-class battle cruiser, was all but annihilated in the conflict. Zadkiel dismissed the weapons master and blanked the pict screens. The endless expanse of real space stretched beyond it. It was the stage of his destiny. Zadkiel nodded, turning to face the viewscreen in front of him as the Navigator went to her duties.
The infinite gaped before him, and Zadkiel was acutely aware of the power that lay beyond the veil of real space and the pacts he had made to harness its limitless strength. Before the countenance of his enemies, aboard this mighty vessel, he would be god-like. There was no other ship in existence that could do what the Furious Abyss was destined to do. It alone had the power to achieve the mission that Kor Phaeron had charged them with.
Only the Furious Abyss could get close enough, could endure the awesome defences of Macragge to unleash its deadly payload. Icons in his command throne lit up with the acquisition of their new heading, bathing Zadkiel in an aura of his own personal heaven.
Cestus could barely hear the thoughts in his head. Light flickered sporadically from the warning readouts on every command surface, casting the darkened control hub like some monochromatic animation. The astropathic choir bucked and kicked, and spat blood beneath the psy-skin in a collective seizure. Falkman was reeling, trying to tear the cables from his skull as they pumped a screaming torrent of information into his mind.
Brynngar went to the side of the human at once, preventing Falkman from ripping out more cables, determined that the station master would do his duty. The reactor must be shut down or it will destabilise. It must be recovered. How do you plan on shutting down the reactor?
The droning reactor was a thunderous pulse in the subterranean access tunnels. After verbally guiding the Astartes to an antechamber below the control hub and a reinforced access portal that would lead them to the reactor, Falkman had neglected to provide them with the necessary instruction to shut the device down, the fact of his passing out from shock a major contributing factor to the oversight. Usually, this area of the dock would be thronging with menials and engineers, but the rapid outflow of escape reactor radiation had prompted an evacuation alert.
Those that were left were either dead or critically injured. The Astartes ignored them all, immune to their pleas for help with the safety of the entire dock at stake. The corridor the Astartes were in spiralled around the main reactor shell down to the power source at the base of the station.
Shouldering past the last of the surviving crewmen and panicked tech adepts as they fled, Cestus led the Astartes to the reactor chamber.
Like his battle-brothers, Cestus had 38 Ben Counter donned his helmet before entering the tunnel. Extreme radiation warning icons flashed insistently in the lens display.
Time was running out. Atmospheric pipes fractured and sprayed freezing gas across a pair of gargantuan blast doors closing off the interior of the reactor shell from the rest of the station.
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Warhammer 40, Warhammer 40, informally known as Warhammer 40K or just 40K is a Gothic science fantasy tabletop miniature wargame, produced by British gaming company Games Workshop. Play centers around 28mm scale approximately miniature figurines produced by Citadel Miniatures, which represent soldiers, creatures, and vehicles of war.
The game requires a combination of tactics and luck. Warhammer 40K is the science fiction companion to Warhammer Fantasy. Warhammer 40, allows for less regimental, formation-based movement, and deals with more advanced weaponry.
The game is currently in its 6th edition. Warhammer 40, - The Game Each player assembles an army from one of the official lists and constructs an army of pewter and plastic miniatures representing the various units in that army. Army size is determined by "points" pts ; each figure and vehicle has an associated cost proportionate to its potential worth on the battlefield. Collecting Modelling Terrain is an important part of play.
So, these are some old hybrids I've had for ages, topped up with a few recent purcases. A good Simple Greening has stripped their early nineties paint scheme and with the addition of the bare lasgun arms from Victoria Miniatures I reckon they are pretty good to go.
The Vic mini arms went pretty much straight on, a bit of bending and some minor filling with GS and we're away. The book is to be part of a duology, with book 5 covering the Battle of Calth, and a later book covering the Shadow Crusade , the Battle of Armatura , and the Underworld War. This book takes place during the Shadow Wars of the Age of Darkness and follow the exploits of the Shattered Legions and the Knights-Errant during their campaign of vengeance against the Traitor Legions.
The Legion traits for the Dark Angels , Blood Angels , and the White Scars Legions, along with new rules, units, and characters for the already released Legions and Factions are also included.
The Primarchs , Characters, and special units for unreleased Legions will be released in later volumes. Inferno also covers the Talons of the Emperor , two completely new Horus Heresy era factions: The book's expected release date is early to mid Before the release of Inferno Games Workshop proper released a new Horus Heresy era set called Burning of Prospero , this set helps with the abundance of new units needing released all at once, with new Thousand Sons, Space Wolves, Sisters of Silence, and Legio Custodes units.
Malevolence will include additional information and rules for the Alpha Legion and Space Wolves Legions and additional rules for Chaos Daemons. The release date of Malevolence is unknown at this time, but it is expected to be released in late to early The following is a list of The Horus Heresy black books that have been confirmed or mentioned by Forge World:.
This book will be both a part of Forge World's Horus Heresy Series and a modern return of the original Adeptus Titanicus tabletop game.
Adeptus Titanicus models will be in the 8mm size and will be set during the Horus Heresy and be tied in with the rest of Forge World's Horus Heresy Series books. The expected release date for Adeptus Titanicus is early to mid It is possible this will be the first book to feature rules for a Daemon Primarch Angron. The book's release date is unknown. No new information has been released about this book as of the Horus Heresy Weekender , which heavily featured books seven and eight's content.
This book has been mentioned several times by the Forge World staff during several Horus Heresy Weekender events. This book or more than likely series of books will feature the Imperium's defense of the Sol System from the Traitor Legions , the Forces of Chaos , and the Dark Mechanicum. The Solar War will cover the defense of the Imperial Palace , the War in the Webway , the retaking of Mars , the pacification of the Hives on Terra, and the destruction of various mini-empires within the Sol System such as those upon the many moons of Saturn and Jupiter.
It is unknown how many books in total will cover The Solar War. The Horus Heresy Army Lists, known as the Red Books , are collections of the most up-to-date various army lists and unit profiles from across the campaign books.