Captain Ferren Areios is the latest Ultramarines luminary to get a miniature, which ties in to the release of Master of Rites, a novel from Black Library that picks up Areios’ story after the events of the Dawn of Fire series. We’re not going to make you wait to read about the Sixth Company Captain, though – here’s a piece of fiction from the Warhammer Studio showing him in action.
A Curbing of Excess
‘Approaching the landing zone. Negative contacts,’ Brother Adirian’s gruff voice came over the vox-channel, distorted by static.
‘Acknowledged,’ Captain Areios replied.
A bank of lumens above the Thunderhawk’s assault ramp blinked red. Areios felt the force of hard deceleration. The ramp wound down, revealing the war-torn fringes of an Imperial hive beneath a sky writhing with lurid aurorae.
The Thunderhawk dropped in above a crossroads. The lumens flashed green. Boots thudded on deckplates as two squads of Intercessors clattered down the ramp, dropping six feet to the ground.
Captain Areios followed, thunder hammer readied. The Thunderhawk climbed hard and away.
The Captain swiftly took in his surroundings and liked nothing of what he saw.
Skeletal hab blocks loomed on every side, burned-out cadavers wreathed in mauve fog that seemed at once to caress and throttle the ruined buildings. The roadways between them were scattered with ruptured bodies and crumpled wreckage, barely recognisable as the remains of a company of Ultramar Defence Auxilia. Shattered armaglass carpeted the ground, the remains seemingly of every window in every hab block within sight. It crunched underfoot and threw back prismatic distortions of the colours dancing across the sky.
The Intercessors took up guard positions overlooking the streets leading into the crossroads. The roar of the Thunderhawk’s thrusters dwindled. Quiet settled like ashes falling over the crossroads, broken only by the thrum of armour power packs and the sinister whisper of wind through the ruins. Wind, Areios noted, that didn’t stir the fumes as it should have.
‘Be ready, brothers,’ he called. ‘This calm is an illusion. They are on their way.’
‘Movement, three hundred yards south, approaching rapidly,’ reported Brother Marcos.
‘Here also, from the east,’ said Sergeant Dharion.
‘Two hundred yards,’ called Brother Agripos from the western edge of the crossroads, an instant before Brother Hastus reported contacts one hundred and fifty yards north.
‘Courage and honour, brothers,’ said Areios.
A shiver ran through the perfumed mist. Oath papers attached to the Ultramarines’ armour fluttered. Then came the first shriek, cutting the silence like a jagged shard of glass ripped across a bared throat. The servants of Slaanesh poured in from every side.
Bolt rifles thundered. Auxiliary grenade launchers discharged with plosive thumps, detonations blossoming amidst the onrushing mass of flesh, talons and silk. Areios saw mortal cultists mingled with lithe and screeching monsters, all charging towards the thin cordon of Ultramarines. Clamping down on his disgust, Captain Areios spoke into his vox-bead.
‘Brothers, we have their attention. Strike now.’
One instant, the outnumbered Ultramarines looked about to be overrun. The next, blue-armoured Terminators materialised from teleport flares even as Inceptors slammed down amidst the ruins and opened fire into the horde. Twisted creatures burst with rapturous howls. Cultists tumbled, mangled and mutilated in their dozens.
‘Draw them in then wipe them out, just as the Codex instructs,’ Sergeant Dharion declared with grim satisfaction.
‘Just so, brother. Then the real work on this world can begin,’ replied Areios. Satisfied his ambush was well underway, he hefted his thunder hammer, bellowed a war cry, and charged.
You can pre-order your Ferren Areios miniature from tomorrow, alongside the novel Master of Rites in a variety of formats, in English, French and German languages.
