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The Ashen Vault
The Ashen Vault
750Pts
Dark Angels Vs Alpha Legion
750Pts
Dark Angels Vs Alpha Legion
Dark Angels:
Dark Angels:
Isolde Tharin - Primus Nullificator - Disintegrator
Dreadwing Interemptor Squad (5)
Deathwing Veteran Squad (5)
Stormwing Breacher Squad (10)
Deathwing Despoiler Squad (10)
Alpha Legion:
Alpha Legion:
Optae - Nemesis Bolter
Apothecary
Tactical Squad (15)
Headhunter Kill Team (6)
Headhunter Kill Team (10)
The narrow corridors of the derelict station were soaked in darkness, a fitting arena for the silent war that would soon erupt. Once a thriving outpost on the fringes of the galactic frontier, it was now a forgotten ruin—its power long gone, its inhabitants reduced to dust. But in the shadows of its rusting walls and decaying machinery, a secret lay hidden, coveted by both friend and foe alike. The Ashen Vault held knowledge—technology so dangerous it could alter the course of the war, and neither side could afford to let it fall into the other’s hands.
The Dark Angels, under the command of Primus Nullificator Isolde Tharin, moved with deliberate precision. Cloaked in the somber hues of the Dreadwing, their ancient war plate was black as night, save for the pale icons of their order etched in weathered bone. They were hunters of the arcane, wielders of forbidden technology, charged with the destruction of what should not exist. Veterans stood at the forefront, their bolters trained and ready, alongside the heavy-armored breachers whose shields formed an unyielding wall. Interemptors, their rad weapons thrumming with lethal energy, brought the dread of unclean death, while despoilers prepared for close-quarters butchery.
Tharin’s order was clear: secure the vault, purge all who opposed them. The Alpha Legion would not be underestimated. Deception and misdirection were their hallmark, and in this grim maze of corridors and bulkheads, they were in their element. His Nullificator's crozius glowed faintly, its anti-psyker wards a silent bulwark against whatever heresy might be lurking.
But the Alpha Legion were already there, and they had no intention of letting the Dark Angels claim their prize. Led by Legion Optae Arvan Zhyros, their forces were a shadow within a shadow. Tactical squads were positioned at chokepoints, prepared to stall and delay the enemy with traps and ambushes. Headhunter squads, masters of precision kills, prowled in silence, their sniper rifles primed for surgical strikes. An Apothecary followed in their wake, ensuring their fallen brothers would not become liabilities, retrieving vital gene-seed should the battle turn against them.
Zhyros had studied the movements of the Dark Angels long before they arrived. They were formidable—relentless, disciplined, and hard to break. But the Alpha Legion thrived on exploiting strength, turning it into weakness. To them, war was not just a contest of arms but of wits. As his forces melded into the darkened corridors, unseen and unheard, Zhyros smirked beneath his helmet. They would strike when least expected, unraveling the Dark Angels' formation with calculated precision.
Both sides prepared in silence, knowing that the first move could very well decide the outcome. For the Dark Angels, it was about obliteration, purity, and safeguarding humanity from the twisted relics of the past. For the Alpha Legion, it was about control—obtaining the vault’s knowledge for their own mysterious ends.
The station groaned, as if it sensed the impending violence. Its walls, once proud, now decayed and forgotten, would soon bear witness to a battle fought in shadows and whispers—a war within a war, where honor and glory mattered less than survival and deception.
In this place of death and secrets, there would be no reinforcements, no retreat. Only the vault mattered.
And the price for its prize would be paid in blood.
The battle within the Ashen Vault station began with a calculated strike. The Alpha Legion headhunters had slipped into the station ahead of the Dark Angels, positioning themselves close to their adversaries in the shadowed corridors. Their purpose was simple: lure the Dark Angels in, fragment their forces, and ensure that no one reached the vault.
As the Dark Angels advanced, their veteran squad quickly detected the nearby headhunters. Weapons were drawn, and in the confined space, the Dark Angels wasted no time, the Deathwing veterans surging forward with power swords raised. With precise, brutal strikes, they cut down the first headhunter unit in swift, merciless fashion. For a brief moment, there was silence—a hollow stillness that stretched across the twisted corridors, interrupted only by the occasional creak of the ancient metal.
But then came movement. The second headhunter squad, watching from the darkness, revealed themselves just long enough to draw the Dark Angels' attention, slipping in and out of sight to bait them forward. Primus Nullificator Tharin, ever vigilant, ordered the Deathwing despoilers to pursue this new enemy. He personally led the chase, but with purpose in his mind, he split his forces. As they advanced, he commanded the despoilers to push deeper, sweeping through an inner passage to clear a route to the station’s boiler room.
The dreadwing interemptors, armed with radium-spewing plasma burners, were given their own orders: hunt down the headhunters directly and rendezvous with the despoilers in the boiler room to clear out any Alpha Legion presence. The headhunters, noticing the shift in forces, began a calculated retreat, moving just fast enough to stay ahead of the interemptors but always lingering at the edge of their plasma burner range. This unceasing chase took the interemptors down twisting passages, away from the main Dark Angel force, and into the bowels of the station.
When the Dark Angels’ plasma weapons would begin to hiss and charge, the headhunters slipped just out of range, a careful dance of cat and mouse. The interemptors pressed forward, pushing through narrow halls that groaned under their advance until they reached a towering set of metal doors—the entrance to the main boiler room. They paused only briefly, enough to catch sight of their prey retreating within. Determined to end the chase, they burst through.
But it was a trap. Inside the cavernous boiler room, hidden among the metal gantries and scattered machinery, an Alpha Legion tactical squad awaited, bolters trained and ready. As the interemptors poured through the doorway, plasma burners raised, the Alpha Legion opened fire in a well-coordinated ambush. The interemptors fell in a hail of bolter fire, their ranks decimated before they had a chance to retaliate. The flames of their weapons flickered out as the Dark Angels collapsed, blood staining the rusted floor of the boiler room.
Meanwhile, Tharin's veterans attempted to circumvent the Alpha Legion’s lines, sprinting through narrow, winding corridors to flank the tactical squad. Their heavy steps echoed through the station’s hollowed halls as they maneuvered for a strike from behind. Bursting into the chamber, they had hoped to catch the Alpha Legion off guard, but instead found themselves surrounded and without support. The tactical marines turned on them with shocking swiftness, cutting off their escape. In the confined space, the Dark Angels struggled to bring their power swords to bear, the tactical marines’ close-ranged bolter fire ripping through their ranks. One by one, the veterans were forced back, beaten into retreat and slowly overwhelmed.
The despoilers, meanwhile, closed in on the boiler room from the inner passages. But Tharin’s carefully timed assault began to unravel—the interemptors were already lost, and the veterans had assualted to early, thinking the bolter fire was the despoilers being engaged and rushing to support. As the despoilers finally reached the designated point of attack, they found only scattered bolter shells and silence. Their attempt to push forward was met with the cold, calculated fire of the waiting Alpha Legion, who picked them apart with precision shots, fading back into the dark each time the despoilers made to advance.
Finally, Primus Nullificator Tharin stood alone, his forces fragmented, his strength eroded by deception and precision. His mind raced with a grim realization—the Alpha Legion had anticipated his every move, dividing his forces and drawing them into fatal chokepoints. The trap had been sprung, and the Dark Angels had been ensnared.
As the last echoes of battle faded through the empty corridors, the Alpha Legion reclaimed their hidden positions, melting back into the station’s shadows. The Ashen Vault remained silent, its secrets undisturbed.
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