An Account of Saint Brannicus’s Last Stand
As recorded by the Seekers of Saints, during their pilgrimage to the ruins of Exordia IV, with annotations from the Holy Office of Saintly Canonisation.
The ruins of Exordia IV capital was choked with smoke and blood, the remnants of a rebellious heretic mob still bellowing their war cries as they swarmed the Sanctum of the Emperor Ascendant. The defenders had all but fallen—only Brannicus the Valiant remained, a lone Imperial Guard standing resolute among the broken bodies of his comrades.
Brannicus’s flak armor was battered, his once-proud aquila obscured by the grime of battle. His weapon lay shattered, and his body was gravely wounded—his left leg severed at the knee by the crude explosive of a heretic brute. Yet there he stood, breathing heavily, his gaze fixed unwaveringly upon the traitorous mob before him.
Sidenote 1: Holy Evidence
“Analysis of the sanctified site confirms a high concentration of residual aethyr-light activity, aligning with recorded phenomena in cases of Emperor-blessed intervention. Fragments of Brannicus’s shattered armor exhibit faint aethyric traces, further supporting the miraculous nature of this account.” —Postulator Malgath, Seeker of Saints
The heretic warlord, hulking and brutish, roared with laughter at the sight of the wounded warrior. Its mob echoed the mocking bellow, their crude voices a cacophony of jeers. Yet Brannicus, without hesitation, reached down and grasped his severed leg from the blood-soaked ground.
With a strength that defied belief, he hefted the severed limb in both hands, holding it aloft like a mace. As the heretics surged forward, he bellowed, “For the Emperor! His light will strike you down!”
What followed defied explanation. Brannicus swung his severed leg with impossible precision, the broken bones glinting with a golden aura as they tore through heretic flesh and bone alike. The warlord fell first, its skull crushed in a single blow that sent shockwaves through its mob.
The heretics hesitated—but Brannicus did not. He charged, his makeshift weapon a blur of holy vengeance. One by one, the traitors fell beneath his relentless assault, their blood pooling at his feet as though the Emperor Himself guided each strike.
Sidenote 2: Witness Testimony
“Three survivors of the Sanctum attest to seeing Brannicus wield his severed leg, glowing with unearthly light. They swear he felled no fewer than one hundred heretics before collapsing. Two corroborated the appearance of a radiant golden light descending upon him in his final moments.” —Testimony of Pilgrim Garun, Survivor of Exordia IV
Twenty fell. Fifty. A hundred. The severed limb, somehow untouched by the gore and filth of battle, burned with radiant light, the splintered bone shining like a shard of the Golden Throne itself. The air filled with the stink of ozone and the death cries of the heretic mob, and even the survivors began to recoil, terrified of the impossible sight before them.
Brannicus’s strength finally began to waver as the last heretic fell, his broken body trembling under the strain of his divine fury. He dropped to his knee, still clutching his severed leg like a holy relic. His blood-soaked face turned toward the heavens, and those who bore witness swore they saw a golden light descend upon him.
With his final breath, Brannicus raised his miraculous limb high, his voice ringing out in defiance. “I give my soul to the Emperor! May my sacrifice guide the faithful to victory eternal!”
In that moment, the light consumed him, his body disappearing in a blaze of holy radiance. When the light faded, nothing remained of Brannicus save his severed leg, now hardened to unyielding gold and enshrined as a relic of faith. The heretic mob, struck with terror, fled the ruins, leaving Exordia IV untouched by traitorous hands.
Sidenote 3: Relic and Site Verification
“The first relic now known as the Golden Limb of Brannicus is housed within the Basilica of Radiant Defiance. Its composition defies natural explanation, being neither wholly organic nor metallic. Pilgrimage to the site of Brannicus’s martyrdom remains a cornerstone of faith for nearby sectors, with thousands testifying to spiritual renewal upon kneeling where he stood.” —Archivist Leontus, Seekers of Saints
Conclusion of Canonisation Inquiry
“The evidence presented, including miraculous testimony, residual aethyric phenomena, and relic verification, is irrefutable. Brannicus the Valiant embodies the highest virtues of Imperial martyrdom: unyielding faith, indomitable spirit, and the Emperor’s divine favor. It is the decision of this Holy Office that Brannicus be elevated to sainthood 215 years after his martyrdom, his name a beacon of faith and defiance across the Imperium.” —Cardinal Vesparian, Office of Saintly Canonisation
Today, the first relic known as the Golden Limb of Brannicus resides in the Basilica of Radiant Defiance, its splintered edge said to shine brightest when the Imperium faces its darkest hours. Pilgrims journey to Exordia IV to kneel where he made his final stand, their prayers carried by the echoes of his defiant cry:
“For the Emperor!”
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The Miracle of Saint Brannicus’ Legs
By Cardinal Dominus Avincal
Hear, novices, and understand this truth: Saint Brannicus faced the heretic scum with but a single leg, and through the Emperor’s will, one became many. As he charged, each step shook the battlefield as if a legion marched within him. The apostates, vile and rebellious, fell before the force of his faith, not his flesh. His other leg, sanctified by the Emperor, became an unstoppable weapon.
Today, relics of Saint Brannicus’ leg are found in countless temples, each one of them true and blessed. This is no contradiction but a miracle. By the Emperor’s decree, on the battlefield one leg became many so the faithful across the galaxy might witness His divine glory.
You have audacity to question this? To doubt the Emperor’s might is heresy. Faith alone explains what reason cannot.
“By His will, the one became many, and through faith, victory was assured.”
Go now, and carry this truth with you. Do not let logic make you doubt or darken your path again.
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A Noble’s Guide for the Esteemed Commander
Personal Recommendations from the idle friend, Lord Atrian Vorn
To my dear friend and peerless Commander, Darius Halvest,
I offer this guide to the most hallowed shrines of Saint Brannicus’ holy relics, along with the finest amasec vintages available in their regions. Each location is a tribute to his divine miracle, with relics of profound significance that will inspire your faith. May these sites serve as both spiritual and cultural enrichment during your travels.
The Basilica of Saint Ophelia
Location: Ophelia VII, Segmentum Tempestus
- Architecture: A magnificent cathedral adorned with heroic frescoes and vaulted arches that reach for the Emperor’s light.
- Weather: Gentle rains and serene skies create an atmosphere of quiet devotion.
- The Relic: The leg displayed here is enshrined in an ornate reliquary of polished adamantite, encased in quartz crystal. It is said to radiate a faint golden glow during prayers, a sign of the Emperor’s favor.
- Amasec: Ophelian Gold, a smooth and honeyed vintage beloved by Imperial nobles and clergy alike.
The Cathedral of Eternal Light
Location: San Leor, Segmentum Tempestus
- Architecture: A fortress of faith, with buttresses and crenellations that exude the Imperium’s unyielding strength.
- Weather: Warm and humid, energizing both body and spirit.
- The Relic: The leg here rests atop a golden plinth, surrounded by eternal votive candles. Local lore claims it grew warm to the touch before a great battle, signaling Saint Brannicus’ enduring blessing upon the faithful.
- Amasec: Leorian Flame, a fiery and robust vintage, favored by warriors and commanders seeking courage in its fiery essence.
The Shrine of the Martyred Saint
Location: Maccabeus Quintus, Segmentum Obscurus
- Architecture: A stark and solemn shrine, built of dark stone to reflect the sacrifices of the faithful.
- Weather: Cold and overcast, with biting winds that evoke an atmosphere of reverence.
- The Relic: This leg, scorched and blackened, is revered as the one Brannicus bore into his final battle. Encased in tempered glass, its charred state is a testament to his suffering and ultimate triumph over the rebellious heretics.
- Amasec: Quintus Noir, a deep and brooding vintage, perfect for moments of solemn reflection.
The Temple of the Emperor’s Grace
Location: Lourdes, Segmentum Pacificus
- Architecture: A serene masterpiece blending classical elegance with gothic grandeur, surrounded by lush courtyards.
- Weather: Mild and rain-kissed, fostering tranquility and thought.
- The Relic: This leg is encased in a silver reliquary inlaid with mother-of-pearl. Pilgrims claim that gazing upon it during prayer grants a profound sense of peace and clarity, as though guided directly by the Emperor’s will.
- Amasec: Lordes Nectar, a delicate floral amasec, its gentle aroma echoing the serenity of the temple grounds.
The Sanctum of Saint Brannicus’ Triumph
Location: Darnath’s Vigil, Segmentum Pacificus
- Architecture: A towering structure of gold-veined marble, illuminated by votive candles that burn eternally in honor of Saint Brannicus’ charge.
- Weather: Mild with occasional storms, reflecting faith’s victory over adversity.
- The Relic: The leg here is encased in a reliquary carved from the bones of martyrs, a grim reminder of Brannicus’ triumph. The carvings on its base recount the miracle of his single leg becoming many, a tale that inspires pilgrims from across the Imperium.
- Amasec: Vigil Reserve, a bold and complex vintage, crafted to honor the strength and resolve of Saint Brannicus.
The Shrine of Saint Brannicus’ Resolve
Location: *Khartar’s Redoubt, Segmentum Tempestus
- Architecture: A stark, utilitarian structure of plain stone, reflecting the disciplined and austere faith of the local population. Its simplicity is striking, though it lacks the grandeur seen in other sanctuaries.
- Weather: Harsh and oppressively hot, with searing winds that make prolonged visits challenging.
- The Relic: The leg here is magnificent, enshrined in a plain but perfectly preserved glass case. Pilgrims speak of its faint glow during prayer, an enduring symbol of the miracle of Brannicus’ single leg becoming many. Despite the shrine’s unassuming design, the relic’s presence is deeply revered and draws faithful from across the stars.
- Amasec: None. The local creed enforces a strict puritanical prohibition on intoxicants, including amasec.
Note: My dear Commander, while the relic itself is magnificent and worthy of reverence, I must advise against visiting this shrine. The strict local prohibitions on amasec render the experience less than ideal for your refined tastes. The absence of such cultural enrichments would, I fear, detract from the overall spiritual and personal fulfillment of your pilgrimage. Consider the other sanctuaries instead, where faith and fine vintages flow in blessed unity.
Final Words for the Faithful Commander
Commander Halvest, each of these sanctuaries offers a glimpse into the Emperor’s divine power through the legs of Saint Brannicus. The relics serve as a reminder of faith’s mysteries, while the amasec of each region stands as a proof of the Imperium’s cultural richness. May these places deepen your devotion and fortify your spirit in service to the Emperor.
“Through faith, we triumph. Through relics, we remember. Through amasec, we honor the providence of the Emperor.”
Yours in loyalty and friendship,
Lord Atrian Vorn
Heir of Tertius Vorn
Bearer of the Azure Signet
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The Thoughts of Volunteer Conscript Jorren Tallas
5th Caldran Planetary Defense Force
Jorren gripped his lasgun tightly, his breath fogging in the cold night air. The guardpost was silent except for the hum of searchlights sweeping the horizon. It had been weeks of waiting, staring into the darkness, knowing the storm would come. He shifted uneasily, his thoughts wandering back to the day it all began.
It was Sergeant Volker who had lit the fire in his chest. “Do you know of Saint Brannicus?” the sergeant had asked, his voice booming in the village chapel. Jorren didn’t know then, but by the end of Volker’s tale—and after watching the grainy flashing holo-vid of Brannicus’ miraculous charge against the horde of heretics—he knew he had to serve. Brannicus, standing against impossible odds, his severed leg pounding the heretics like the Emperor’s own hammer, had become more than a man. He was faith incarnate.
That moment, Jorren had raised his voice. “I volunteer.” And here he was, standing vigil, waiting for his moment.
The crackle of static in his vox-caster snapped him to attention. “Sector 7, confirm movement.” Jorren adjusted his mag-sight. At first, he saw nothing. Then, there it was—a ripple in the shadows, too alien, too fluid. The Tyranids were here. “Movement confirmed.”, Jorren answers.
The searchlights caught the first wave, their chitin glinting like steel, talons slicing the air. Behind them, an ocean of claws and teeth surged forward, endless and terrifying. Jorren’s chest tightened, but the fire burned brighter. He thought of Brannicus—of his single leg, made many by the Emperor’s will. If Brannicus could stand against a tide armed with a one leg, so could he.
The klaxon blared, and shouts filled the air as the guards scrambled. Jorren leveled his lasgun, his heart thumping. The swarm surged closer, their shrieks piercing the night. His grip tightened, and he whispered, “For Saint Brannicus. For the Emperor.”
The lasgun fired. The swarm met the fire of the conscript.
And the whole valley was lit on fire as Imperial bomber squads filled the confirmed enemy contact area with all-swallowing pyroclastic inferno.
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Last Moments of Imperial Guard Sergeant Brannicus
Sergeant Brannicus stumbled through the ruins of Exordia IV capital, his breath ragged, each step heavier than the last. The mob of apostates roared behind him, their blasphemous cries and the thudding of desperate boots growing ever closer. His lasgun was empty, and his combat knife—a weapon of desperation—felt like a mockery in his trembling hand. His thoughts raced: “Faster… just a bit further. My love, guide me!”
The rocky ground suddenly betrayed him. A click. A metallic snap. A thunderous explosion tore through the haste. Pain, white-hot and blinding, engulfed him as the force hurled him to the ground. He screamed—a raw, guttural sound—as he looked down to see the stump where his right leg had been, blood pumping freely into the dirt. The Imperial landmine had done its duty too well, taking his limb and leaving him broken.
He clawed at the dirt, dragging himself toward a jagged outcrop where a battered, abandoned multi-laser lay propped against a makeshift barricade in front of an Imperial temple. His hands, slick with blood and dirt, grasped the grips as he hauled himself into position. The horde surged into crimson view, a tidal wave of roaring, sneering apostates. At their head, the Apostate Leader loomed—a hooded figure, wielding a desecrated aquila the size of a man. The heretic prayed, his blasphemies filling the air, and the mob responded with frenzied cheers.
Brannicus’s vision blurred with tears of pain and rage, his mind filled with regret. “Why? Why did I ever volunteer? They promised duty and glory, not this… not dying like a dog on some Emperor-forsaken rock.” For a fleeting moment, the image of his wife flashed in his mind—her face soft with hope, her hands resting on her belly. “I’ll never see them again. Never hold my child. Never…”
He shook his head and snarled, the numbness of shock swallowing away his despair, leaving only grim reality. “This is the day, you traitorous filth,” he spat, his voice barely a whisper over the roar of the approaching mob. His bloodied hands gripped the triggers of the multi-laser, and with a shrieking burst of energy, the weapon came to life.
The first shot lanced into the front line, turning heretics into sizzling heaps of flesh and cloth. Another burst carved through the mob, sending apostates tumbling like broken dolls. The weapon spat fire and vengeance, and the charging wave faltered. But the leader prayed louder, rallying his followers. He charged forward, shrugging off the searing heat of the laser missing by inches, his aquila held high.
Brannicus squeezed the trigger harder, his aim shaking, and the laser finally found its mark. The heretic’s head exploded in a cloud of charred flesh and scorched fabric. The leader’s body and aquila toppled, and the apostates hesitated, their momentum faltering without their leader.
But they recovered quickly. The mob, now driven by blind zeal rather than leadership, surged forward, knives glinting in the fading light. Brannicus’s multi-laser whined and sputtered as its power pack failed, leaving him defenseless. He reached into the barricade’s recesses and pulled free a cache of Imperial munitions, stacked carelessly and half-buried under debris. His eyes darted to the crude satchels of explosives the heretics carried, discarded near the body of their fallen leader. A desperate plan formed.
He gripped a grenade with trembling fingers, blood smearing its surface. “If I can’t escape, neither will you.” As the apostates closed in, their fanatical cries filling his ears, he pulled the pin and tossed it into the munitions cache. The grenade landed with a hollow clink amidst the volatile stockpile.
In his final moments, Brannicus closed his eyes, tears mixing with blood on his face. He whispered, “My love, forgive m…”
The detonation tore through the battlefield in a brilliant flash. The cache erupted, igniting the heretics’ explosives in a chain reaction that obliterated the charging mob. Fire and shrapnel consumed everything, reducing apostates and Imperial ordnance alike to ash. Brannicus’s sacrifice became a blinding moment of defiance, his regret swallowed by the inferno.
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Ignis Aeternus WH 40K campaign notes 