[The Fall of Cadia]-The finale of Ursarkar E. Creed

Creed has basically been the Imperial Guard character but Cadia is where he would have his finale (for now...)

With Abaddon & his 13th Black Crusade on the way, Creed sets out a war council to formulate a plan. Not everyone is in the mood to support however.

‘That, is what we know,’ said Creed, his voice amplified by the vox-pickup in front of him. ‘Our latest update suggests the Despoiler is one day from Cadia.’ Kell looked across the semicircular table he’d laid out for the war council. He’d managed the room’s setup himself, with a protocol expert from the Administratum advising the seat placement. You didn’t want to make a mistake right off the landing ramp. Sitting the Space Wolves next to the Dark Angels, for instance, or the Cadian high command delegation further from Creed than the Navy. Indeed, it had been a difficult balancing act. Only the magnanimity of Magos Klarn giving up his seat made it work – a move that was proper since he was giving testimony, and did not biologically require a chair. ‘Let me go over it again,’ said a towering warrior with a black line tattooed across his face. Kell keyed the vox-speaker that he’d affixed to his formal carapace armour. ‘The chair recognises the honourable Wolf Lord Sven Bloodhowl, of the Firehowlers.’

‘My thanks. If you tell this tale right, the war we have fought – with all its hardships – has been a mere foreboding. And the Great Traitor, the Despoiler, Abaddon…’ Several members of the war council gasped at the name, and Bloodhowl paused to spit on the floor before continuing, to dispel the ill luck. His saliva sizzled on the decking, releasing a twist of smoke. ‘This filthy creature has brought a Blackstone Fortress which can annihilate us without him setting foot here.’ A woman, her angular face nestled deep in a hood, raised her hand. As she did so, one sleeve of her crimson robe fell away, revealing the sable greave of her power armour. Two things surprised Kell: her relative youth given her position, and the fact that the seat next to her was empty. ‘The chair recognises the revered Canoness Eleanor, of the Order of Our Martyred Lady. Keeper of the Shrine of St Morrican.’

‘According to the chronicles I have studied, the Despoiler took three fortresses during the Gothic War, did he not? And by combining their arcane ordnance, they destroyed a sun. Are we sure there is only one?’ ‘If I may?’ ‘Chair recognises Inquisitor Talia Daverna of the Ordo Hereticus, Chief Inquisitorial Legate of the Cadian Gate.’ ‘It is unlikely they possess more than one.’ Daverna was a tall woman with powerful arms and broad, muscular shoulders. Shoulders that, in the bawdy slang of the Cadian barracks, were said to belong in a flak vest. Born in Kasr Derth, she wore an officer’s greatcoat in a manner calculated to show that despite the rosette, she was one of them. Kell found her both intimidating and monstrously attractive. ‘The Despoiler only escaped Battlefleet Gothic with two activated Blackstone Fortresses,’ she continued. ‘The third was reclaimed by a Navy boarding party. Since then, prisoner interrogations – supported by remote viewing and the Emperor’s Tarot – suggest that he gave one to the Red Corsairs. Possibly some kind of payment for services. Our best assessment is that only one remains in his possession.’

‘Faith shall shield us.’ ‘Chair recognises venerated Marshal Marius Amalrich of the Black Templars, leader of the Cruxis Crusade.’ Of all the transhumans sitting around the half-circle, it was Amalrich that Kell found the most unnerving. Pale-skinned and towering in his black ceramite shell, a few whisker-like scars around his eye sockets marked where his eyeballs had been scooped out and replaced with high-grade augmetics that glowed solid amber. He was also the only representative in the chamber who still carried arms – his bolt pistol and power sword fixed to his armour with heavy chains. A bannerman stood behind, unmoving as a statue. ‘Thankfully, we have technology in addition to faith,’ responded Creed. ‘Magos Klarn, you may reveal our countermeasure.’ ‘Chair recognises Magos Klarn.’ ‘Ever since the Gothic War, my predecessors in the Mechanicus have known the Blackstone Fortresses and their unique warp-based weaponry have been a threat to the Cadian Gate. In the millennia since, we have put considerable resources into developing an array that harnesses Cadia’s natural defences as a way of diffusing the warp-beam.’ ‘You speak of the pylons, magos?’ ‘Affirmative, Lord Castellan,’ Magos Klarn said, bowing. ‘Whether by a quirk of geology or a remnant of the Dark Age of Technology, it is thought that the pylons have some stabilising effect on the warp. Our hope is to turn this passive attribute into an active defence. We can shield Kraf, and perhaps the plains surrounding it.’

‘What do we expect the Despoiler to target with the warp-beam?’ asked Bloodhowl. ‘He’s going to hit the kasrs.’ Creed said it matter-of-factly, brooking no argument. ‘The fortress cities have always been key to Cadia’s strategy. We’ve spent thousands of years hardening the positions and training to defend them. Eliminate the kasrs and we are an army without bases, logistical centres, command-and-control. But Kraf, unlike the others, has the null-array. It’s why I picked it as our rallying point. And that is what I would like you all to do – rally here. Join the pullback, and make your stand on the walls of Kasr Kraf.’ A pause as everyone took the information in. ‘Unacceptable,’ said Eleanor. ‘Why?’ ‘It is our duty to guard the Shrine of St Morrican. Am I to decamp to KasrKraf and watch as our precious shrine is defiled?’ Kell leaned down and whispered to Creed, reminding him of the empty chair. ‘What about your sister, then?’ Creed continued. ‘Her role is in the mobile force, yours is defensive.’ Eleanor’s mouth made a tight line. ‘I am empowered to speak for both of us.’

‘At least the Holy Sisters deigned to come at all,’ Bloodhowl snapped. Kell decided not to follow protocol. Instead, he looked across to the seat laid out for Master Korahael of the Dark Angels. The master’s helm flickered and rolled. An imperfect holo-image of his head and chest was projected from a base unit so that he looked like the heroic busts in Administratum buildings. ‘Is that a slight, Wolf?’ the master answered. His voice came through hollow, partially due to the connection, and partially because he had not removed his helm. ‘We are still aboard the Sword of Defiance. It would be improper for the ship’s commander to leave it in this state. Enemy infiltration is a constant threat, and we are labouring to get the weapons systems fully operational to serve as air defences. It is no small feat to bring a wrecked strike cruiser to operational status.’ ‘Your work is appreciated,’ said Creed, trying to break the tension. ‘But do you need the full complement? Can none be spared to defend the walls of Kraf?’

‘Spare?’ sneered Korahael. ‘No, I do not have any warriors to spare. And I thank you not to speak of us like shells in an ammunition tin. We are not yours to spend, Ursarkar Creed.’ Kell saw Creed’s jaw wire tighter. Remembered how in his last medical review, the oral chirurgeon had warned him he was wearing down his teeth. ‘I apologise, Master Korahael. It was not my intention to cause offence, indeed, my concern was just the opposite – defence. We will need reinforcements to man the walls. I have the Militarum, I have a commitment from the skitarii, and I have a collection of Adeptus Astartes from various Chapters – a combined force of remnants and casualties have sworn to serve on the wall.’

‘And we will fight to the last,’ said a pale Astartes in night-black ceramite. ‘Chair recognises Lieutenant Odric A’shar, of the Raven Guard, elected commander of the Company of Brothers.’ A’shar shrugged, a half-smile playing across his pale, languid features. ‘I’m done. That was all I had to say.’ ‘We appreciate that deeply, lieutenant.’ Creed nodded. ‘They are sorely needed. It is true that I have troops, but exactly what kind of troops? The Despoiler will hit us with the full might of the Black Legion. That means Traitor Astartes, strange engines, perhaps even warp abominations. We need survivable, power-armoured infantry to counteract – the Adepta Sororitas, the venerated Astartes. Units that do not tire. Now, who among you will help me? Who will defend Kraf?’

Silence. ‘Shall we go around?’ asked Creed. ‘Canoness Eleanor?’ ‘Chair recog–’ Creed gestured for quiet, and Kell snapped off his vox-hailer. Eleanor shifted, put her hand up even though the room had turned informal. ‘We are sworn to defend the shrine. This sacred duty cannot be altered by mere military necessity.’ ‘Very well,’ said Creed. ‘Master Korahael? Will you lead your Dark Angels to fight on the walls of Kraf?’ The holo-projection fizzled and popped, refocused. ‘The Sword of Defiance is too valuable an asset to abandon. You will see the strategic wisdom of this once its guns are run out and it opens fire.’ ‘You will be vulnerable to the warp cannon,’ argued Creed. Kell could see sweat prickling on the back of his commander’s neck. ‘You and Canoness Eleanor will be exposed, possibly outside any null field we will deploy. Vulnerable to orbital bombardment.’ ‘I have chosen my ground,’ said Korahael. ‘Just like you have chosen yours at Kraf. The Sword of Defiance is a worthy defensive strongpoint, we can prevent Kraf from being fully surrounded.’ ‘And you can hide any of your precious secrets,’ growled Bloodhowl. ‘Is that not so, Korahael?’

‘My Wolf Lord Bloodhowl,’ Creed said, turning, ‘your Firehowlers will assist us, surely? Or your brother Wolf Lord Highfell and his Ironwolves?’ ‘The Wolves of Fenris never refuse a call, Lord Castellan.’ Bloodhowl leaned back in his chair. ‘But the Ironwolves are not warriors of foot. Their warfare is that of the ranging pack – a wall defence is not the place forthem. Before I came, Jarl Highfell told me that he plans to raise his banner in the ruins of Kasr Jark, and will oppose the enemy landings like an ice wyrm – striking and encircling from his cave. It will prevent the Archenemy massing forces to the north. If you need armour, why not the Knights of House Raven?’ ‘The baroness is already moving east to engage Legio Vulcanum,’ Klarn replied. ‘The heretek Titans of Vulcanum are approaching Kasr Kraf from that direction, and will be here within days unless countered. With our Titan forces committed in Cadia Primus, and unable to redeploy, House Raven is the only option. They cannot serve on the wall.’

‘I will take the wall and hold it,’ interrupted Marshal Amalrich. ‘Instruct my crusaders to disburse themselves amongst the men. We have seen on the maps an outer defensive work called the Martyr’s Rampart, is that correct?’ ‘Yes,’ Creed answered. ‘On the southern sector.’ ‘That will be ours.’ ‘Very well, that is a start,’ said Creed. ‘We have A’shar and his company on the western wall, the Cruxis Crusade in the south – Wolf Lord Bloodhowl, you answered only for Lord Highfell, would you do me the honour of taking the north?’ ‘I think not.’ Bloodhowl grinned, his canines sharp with sly mischief. ‘I think instead I shall do something else.’ ‘And what is that?’ Kell could hear the strain in Creed’s voice. Imagined the supreme effort his commander must be making to keep his temper. ‘I think I will solve all our problems. I will board the Will of Eternity, kill Abaddon, and use his thick skull to sharpen my axe blade.’ The room went quiet. ‘Was that a jest, Wolf Lord?’ Creed said. ‘It was not,’ Bloodhowl rejoined. ‘Not a jest. Not at all.

The Firemane’s Fang is the only war vessel in Cadia’s orbit, the Navy has’ – Bloodhowl waggled his fingers – ‘gone away. Chasing the Vengeful Spirit. Not yet returned. We will board the Firemane’s Fang, run it through the enemy fleet and into range of the black fortress.’ He demonstrated with his hands, bringing them together in a T-formation. ‘Fire… What is the word in Gothic…?’ He paused, asked another Wolf behind him something in Fenrisian, then nodded at the answer. ‘Just so,boarding craft. We will use boarding craft, storm the fortress, and destroy it from the inside before it arrives to Cadia. Like we did with St Josmane’s Hope.’ ‘It’s a risky venture,’ Creed warned. ‘Desperate. You’re right, the Josmane operation was successful – but a Blackstone Fortress is no prison planet. We don’t know its schematics or how to effect catastrophic sabotage as we did with the Josmane plasma grid. It could mean throwing away your Firehowlers for no gain. And I doubt there would be enough of them – you have only fifty-eight warriors now, yes?’

‘Which is why I would need additional forces. Perhaps numbers from Lieutenant A’shar? Some Cadians?’ ‘Lieutenant A’shar’s force has been committed, to the western wall…’ ‘I will have to ask my brotherhood,’ said A’shar. ‘I am not their commander as such. I lead them in battle, but I cannot tell them where to die. That is not part of our compact. Many of them lost brothers to the Archenemy in the initial attack, and will likely relish a chance to strike back. I must at least present them the option.’

‘If the Adeptus Astartes are committing,’ buzzed Magos Klarn, ‘the Mechanicus will answer as well. I offer a full maniple of skitarii. They will be needed to understand the technical aspects of the fortress and how best to sabotage it.’ ‘And what about Cadians?’ asked Bloodhowl. ‘How many are you willing to pledge, Creed?’ Kell knew Creed’s dilemma. On one hand, it was a gamble. And gambles rarely paid off. It would be committing men and resources to a risky action with small chance of success. The loss of any Astartes would be keenly felt.

And yet… It would give the troops hope. And in the wake of the sirens, hope was in short supply. News had leaked about the irradiated ship and destroyed fleet. You could feel the choking fear in every street and wardroom. Creed had, Kell suspected, oversold the possibility that the null-array might work as a viable countermeasure. But if the strike force succeeded… ‘You have my support,’ Creed stated. ‘And the remaining strength of the Cadian Thirteenth Regiment. Go. Take your swords to that heretic fortress and break it. Let the void spill into its shattered core. Emperor speed you. Council adjourned.’ At that, a chorus of junior officers and subalterns cheered and clapped. Knuckles thumped tables around the semicircle, those of the powerarmoured Astartes sounding loud as drums. Creed stood, adjusting his jacket with a soldierly flourish. When he’d turned towards Kell, he whispered, ‘I brought them here to take their troops, and the sons of bitches took my troops instead.’

Not what Creed was hoping for! We know how it goes and Creed decides to stay behind.

‘Come on!’ He shoved a Mordian Sable Guard trooper towards the open hatch. The woman ran past Odric A’shar, who backed into the Thunderhawk’s bay, firing his bolt pistol. ‘Are you coming, Lord Castellan?’ ‘No room, I’ll take the next one.’ He sketched a salute towards the Raven Guard Space Marine, and shoved Kristan forward with his injured hand. ‘But my medicae can fit.’ ‘No, sir, you go.’ ‘Troopers in there need you. I’ll take the next one.’ ‘There is no next one, sir. At least I don’t think so.’ ‘Then I’ll make sure you’re off.’ Creed thumped him in the shoulder, a playful punch with the side of his wounded hand. ‘Go, I’ll hold Cadia until the last.’ ‘We need you, sir. It’s not over.’

Creed shook his head, raised his voice above the wind and gunfire. ‘I’m done. I’m frekking tired, Stitch. I don’t think I’ve got another battle in me. Besides, you know what they’ll say. I’ll be the Man Who Lost Cadia, and all this frekk.’ He threw a hand at the craft engines lighting the dust. ‘You think I want to explain this to the Inquisition?’ ‘Cadia still believes in you, general.’ ‘And they’ll keep believing if they don’t see me get old. Or dragged across the coals. No – the Imperium likes its heroes dead. Cleaner for everyone. Means I can’t frekk it up.’ He waved a hand at A’shar, who was gesturing that they needed to lift off. ‘But, general, Cadia stands, sir.’ ‘And so will I, always, as long as no one’s around to see me fall. Hey, you have a light?’ He reached his cigar out. It was stale and crushed nearly flat. Had been in his teeth for days. Kristan ignited his wound-cauteriser wand, and touched it to the end, then ran towards the Thunderhawk. Creed was still there, smoking, as the hatch closed.

Kristan, according to Imperial records, would be the last person to see Ursarkar E. Creed alive.

We know it's not over for Creed though...

‘Cadia stands!’ yelled Creed, firing the last of his hellpistol. ‘The Eighth stands!’ It was magnificent, Trazyn thought, as he drew out the tesseract labyrinth. What a centrepiece it would make. This is not a foxhole, this is my world.

The Gathering Storm Part I: The Fall of Cadia details the rest of Creed's fate:

Cadia was now little more than a graveyard, haunted by the stubborn and the dead. Creed stumbled. Despite the medics’ labours, his wounds still bled. He felt his strength ebbing as his lifeblood seeped into the greatcoat’s fabric. One last effort. Then he’d rest. One last effort. The storm parted – not before a Daemon, but a metal giant in a scaled cloak. The wind snatched away Creed’s hurried shot. Light glittered upon the figure’s upraised palm, iridescent polygons billowing in a hypnotic dance. ‘Ursarkar E. Creed.’ The giant’s words slammed down like tombstones. ‘This need not be your end. Eternity awaits.’ The giant’s laughter followed Creed into darkness.