No matter how much it disturbed her, Princess Luna could not deny that she had not felt so alive in years.

She would never deny that the years since her redemption had been among the best in her life; verily, Luna was most sure that she had not felt such pure joy since the long-lost days of her youth, when she could simply play under the ever-watchful aegis of her parents. But for all the contentment and friendship Luna now had, her new life felt dull, as though life’s colour had been dimmed, a vibrant rainbow reduced to a mere colour palette.

It was an instinctive feeling, an emotion coded deep in her very blood; a hunger for battle, a lust for adrenaline that forever simmered in the back of her mind. For reasons none save perhaps her ever-knowledgeable father could have understood, Luna simply lived for combat. Even in her youth, while Celestia had spent her days studying with Mother, Luna had played in the training ring with Father. It was, if nothing else, an outlet, a defense, a bloodletting of the insatiable rage which burned in the darkest depths of her heart. When given free reign, Luna became a monster. When denied, her mind clouded with unreal images, dream-horrors and nightmare worlds that defied all sense and reality.

Just such an image was before her now, a writhing beast of tentacles and baying maws, screaming unholy chants into the hot, humid air.

In her youth, such images had frozen Luna with fear, helpless, not even able to sob until Father or, in those later days, Tia came to her aid, banishing the living nightmares with but a few words of love.

Now, so many millennia later, Luna was the undisputed Mistress of Dreams, and no mere illusion would defeat her. Never again!

A blast of white-blue magic dispelled the haunting image. To Luna’s annoyance, what replaced it was little better. A screaming horde of aliens swarmed down the street. Most were clothed in rags, armed with little more than junk and those strange autoguns Luna had become far too familiar with these past few hours. Mixed into that horde were bands of the heavily armoured aliens, who marched and chanted in unnatural unity.

Like a black-blue lightning bolt Luna fell upon the alien invaders, these cultists and Chaos Marines. She fell like the wrath of the heavens, a recompense for their hateful crimes. At her side flew the remains of her noble Lunar Guard. Thestrals all, they bore armour fashioned in her image and wielded naught but the mightiest weapons Luna could offer them. Morningstars, battleaxes, and longswords were all counted among their arsenal; and as their symbol, the ancient Starlit Knives, artifacts from the War With Sombra forged with such care that, once, no armour could resist their moonbeam-sharp blades. The Lunar Guard were the mightiest of their kind, as much veterans as anypony in Equestria could make claim to that title in those too-recent days of peace.

“For Princess Luna!” the Guardsponies roared. They lifted up their hoof-crossbows, unleashing a volley of deadly iron.

They struck like a smith’s hammer, shattering the cultist horde. The Thestrals screamed and roared as they fought, exacting payment in blood for the death these aliens had brought. They fought to avenge their fallen brethren, those Guardsponies who had been slain during the battle. They fought to defend Equestria against these foul invaders. Yet above all, they fought to serve their Princess.

Luna fought at their head, as had ever been her way. She was a sight to behold on the battlefield. For all it quietly disturbed her, the hunger for battle was a part of herself she could never deny. She fought with a speed and strength all but unmatched among ponykind, and a skill rivaled only by the Silent Swords of the fallen Griffin Empire, and surpassed only by her late Father. She was a scythe in a wheat-field, reaping life from the invaders. They resisted her with madness and fury, but it was to no avail.

Her armour was an artifact of ancient days, a relic forged in the deepest forges of Canterlot in that bygone age when war meant more to ponies than a dull historical lecture. It was a frightening ensemble, the inspiration for her attire as Nightmare Moon. To many ponies, there was no difference; for them, this was the armour of the fallen princess, a living legend come to haunt them in their hour of crisis. Such fear disturbed Luna deeply, leaving her saddened and alone, as though her first Nightmare Night had returned to her again. She had known the armour needed to be redesigned, but to remake such an artifact required time and expertise, and in the peaceful Equestria her sister had made, there simply did not seem to be any pressing need. Yet, in these moments of heated battle, Luna found she simply did not care for public opinion. Frightening as its appearance was, it was all but invulnerable, every inch the wearable fortress she had been promised so many centuries ago. Cheap iron and corrupted bones shattered against it, and even the fusillades of the autoguns could not breach it.

Against the useless assault of the cultists, Luna wielded weapons befitting her station. Grasped in her white-blue magic, Luna’s Starlit Knife danced through the air, slashing at the exposed skin of the cultists and parrying their feeble attacks. Floating by her side, awaiting the moment of its necessity, was the pride of Luna’s personal arsenal, the Lunar Lance. A gift from her beloved mother, it was the greatest weapon Equestria had ever seen before the coming of the aliens; no armour could withstand it, no foe resist its inevitable strike. Yet it was a hefty weapon, slow and unwieldy in close-quarters.

Luna grinned as she swept through the cultists, the fury pounding in her mind receding more with every killing blow. Here she was all-powerful, her mind clear and free. None could oppose her will, not even that accursed Cel…

The Princess of the Moon gasped and froze. She feel behind the unyielding advance of her guards, leaving for now the battle in their capable hooves. Luna kneeled and panted, her eyes wide and brimmed with tears as memories of Nightmare Moon rushed through her mind. The sorrow and solitude, and betrayal and banishment, her crimes and the condemning tears in Celestia’s eyes, they all rose up before her.

“No…” she all but whimpered, guilt driving a spear of ice through her heart. But then, a warm, loving voice rose up in her mind. We were meant to rule together, little sister.

With a shake of her night-black head, Luna banished the guilt and fear. She was not Nightmare Moon, and naught but shards of the Tantabus remained to haunt her. Though she would forever bear the scars of her misdeeds, Luna was reborn, as true a Princess of Equestria as there had ever been.

“Princess! Luna!” the voice of Silent Knight, the Captain of the Lunar Guard, broke through Luna’s reverie. Luna turned her gaze to the thestral, awaiting her report. Silent pointed a hoof off to Luna’s right. “They’re cutting through us like butter.”

Luna followed the line of Silent’s hoof, and gasped at the sight. Five aliens, clad in some twisted, spiked perversion of the armour she had seen on the Blood Angel Renato, strode through the ranks of the cultists. They wreaked havoc upon the depleted ranks of the Lunar Guard. Their guns spewed boltshells like rain from a thunderstorm, striking ponies from the sky with ease. One of their number hefted a massive device latched to the underside of its arm, from which roared tongues of killing flame. No weapon the Lunar Guard wielded could breach their armour; swords and axes and even the Starlit Knives proved useless against those five.

“Silent, gather a squad!” Luna commanded. “And meet me in the charge! We shall smite these blackguards from our world!”

“Aye, Princess,” Silent said with a nod. She soared through the humid air, fulfilling her order with the speed and efficiency which had led her to her Captaincy in the first place.

Luna took to the air like an old pegasus war-god, beating her mighty wings and hefting the Lunar Lance above her head. Without a word, she swooped at the Word Bearers, the Lance the speartip of her charge. With but seconds left before she struck, Silent Knight and her hastily-assembled squad joined Luna’s side.

A volley of crossbow bolts was the only warning of their assault, accompanied by a beam of white-blue magic. The bolts shattered on the alien armour, and even Luna’s magic could not breach it. The Lunar Alicorn silently cursed her guilt-shaken mind; though free of the gripping fear, she was still just too distracted to summon the mightier magics she desperately needed.

Yet some force, whether fortune or the providence of some distant divinity, favoured Luna’s cause. One of the Word Bearers had elected to forgo the helmet his brethren wore, exposing his twisted face to the open air. As he raised his strange, alien weapon against Luna’s charge, a single crossbow bolt found its mark. The iron tip burst through the alien’s unprotected eye, plunging deep into its corrupted brain. The alien slumped to the ground with a wet thud, its impact softened by the corpses of cultists and ponies alike.

The Bearers turned in a last, desperate defense against the charge. They turned the full of their firepower on Luna and her guards. Boltshells ripped through the air. Behind them, two aliens unleashed their weapons, raising up a wall of fire. Luna and her guard danced and dodged as best they could. But against so furious a defense, even the most agile of flyers was vulnerable. Luna’s heart wept as three more of her guards were struck down, torn apart by boltshells or seared by the flames.

But still they flew on, undeterred. Over half the Lunar Guard was already gone; a few more would do nothing to break their spirits.

They struck like a meteor cast down to Equus, staggering the Word Bearers, if only for a moment. Luna kneeled from the force of her impact, absorbing the strike with ease. She turned her gaze up, and in a flash, she saw a monster.

He stood before her, the architect of all her pain. Rising tall like a blood-red pillar, he towered above her. Every inch of his skin was inscribed with profane script. His accursed Mace was raised to the reddened skies, and in his other hand he carried a tome bound in the screaming faces of those he had murdered. He intoned his unholy verses, quoting the lies of his false gods, the lies which had torn everything apart.

A name fell from Luna’s lips, a name she had never before heard and yet knew as well as her own. “Lorgar!”

The Aurelian swung at her with his Mace. So enraptured and shocked was she that she could not avoid the blows. Yet fortune and fine crafting was with her, and her ancient armour resisted the blow. A dark fury rose up from the deep of Luna’s heart. With a mighty roar, she struck back.

“For Father!” she cried. And with the thrust of her Lance, the hallucination was gone. The Chaos Champion fell dead, rotted blood bubbling up from his malformed lips. In a flash Luna tore through the rest of the Word Bearers, the Lunar Lance punching through their armour like wrapping paper. Some tried to fall back, only for Luna to slay them as they fled.

Luna then paused, taking a moment to catch her breath. She shook her head, and tossed away the last vestiges of hallucination. Her mind restored to clarity, she took stock of the battle.

The results were grim, but far from hopeless. The destruction of the Word Bearers elites had broken the spirit of the invaders, it seemed. In droves they turned and fled, scattering down the alleyways of Manehatten like rats. But there the good news ended.

With but a brief survey, Luna knew their losses. She had come with a full company of Lunar Guard, taking with her almost all of the active members. Now but a few dozen remained, and none of them unscathed. None pursued the fleeing invaders, instead taking advantage of the pause to catch their breaths and tend to their many wounds. Even Luna’s own squad, that hastily assembled assault force, were decimated. Silent Knight and two others were all that remained, the rest slain by the Word Bearers.

It was a matter that worried Luna deeply. The Lunar Guard had thus far been rather successful in fighting off the Word Bearers, but as this last skirmish proved, it seemed increasingly clear that these victories said very little about the might of Luna’s guards. Rather, it seemed that victory was hinging primarily on her personal might; it was she who turned the tide at the crucial moment, not the strength of the Lunar Guard. But for all her strength, Luna was still but a single pony, bound to a single location at any given moment in time. And so her beloved guardsponies died while her attention was elsewhere.

When the battle was finished and she was returned to the solitude of her tower, Luna would weep like a mother stripped of her children. But for now, those emotions were bottled up, sequestered away where they could not interfere with the matter of simply surviving.

“Curse it, Princess, where are the reinforcements?” Silent Knight growled, walking up beside her Princess. “Shiny-britches was supposed to be here hours ago.”

“It is a most disturbing development,” Luna admitted. That was a matter that had weighed heavily on her in the brief moments between fights. “Something must have delayed him. We can only hope we can find…”

Luna trailed off as a new sound echoed down the streets. It was a violent cacophony, a discordant orchestra of explosions and magic. High-pitched whirs and the roar of flames flew through the humid air.

“What in Tartarus is that?” Silent asked. “Sounds like somepony’s opened up the apocalypse.”

A mechanical roar pierced through the distant onslaught, a cry of pain and death.

Images flashed before Luna’s eyes; an iron dragon, alien vehicles equipped with all manner of weapons, ponies giving their all against a terrifying alien foe. She knew the nature of those images at once; though true prescience had ever been the domain of Celestia and their Father, Luna too had some degree of foresight.

“Ponies!” Luna called, summoning the remains of her guard to her side. “Help has finally arrived. Come, let us join our strength with theirs! To the skies once more!”

Though wounded and weary, the Lunar Guard soared with renewed spirit. The promise of help was the balm for their tired hearts. With Luna at their head, they flew down the broken streets of Manehatten. For a time, there was but silence from the streets, the only sound the beating of their wings and the distant rumble of the Word Bearers’ assault. The Lunar Guard flew on, their only guide Luna’s instincts.

Then, a strange feeling came over her. A flash of crimson crossed her vision. Something began tugging at her heart, calling her to some secret, shameful place. It was a feeling unlike anything she had ever felt.

The sounds returned, redoubled in their fury, and joined by the screams of the dying. Luna felt the tugging move, drawing nearer and growing in intensity. Then it turned, and sped off to the west.

“Silent Knight, take the Guard and join Shining Armor,” Luna said, gesturing towards the source of the now-diminishing sounds of battle. “We shall rejoin you shortly.”

“Princess? What in the hay are you doing?” Silent asked.

Luna sighed. “We knowest not. But it is something we must do alone. Go, dear captain, and know we shall not tarry long.”

“Hey, look everypony, help is here!” a voice from below called up.

Luna and Silent Knight turned their gaze to the ground. To their surprise they saw a menagerie of ponies slowly pouring out of the ruins of an office building. All three tribes were counted among their numbers, as were all ages and almost every urban occupation imaginable. Few ponies shared any obvious signs of commonality, save for the single, saddening trait they all shared. Dirt and rips and wounds covered them all. There was not a one among them, save for perhaps a hoofful of foals, who did not bear some manner of injury.

“Silent, we… I have changed our... my mind,” Luna began.

Silent Knight cut her off. “We’ll take care of them, don’t worry. Come on, you layabouts, let’s get these ponies fixed up and to safety!”

As Silent and the rest of the Lunar Guard descended to the first survivors they had found since entering Manehatten, the Captain of the Lunar Guard turned back with a grimace. In the years since her return, Luna had slowly acclimated to modern speech, but in times of stress she often returned to more archaic grammatical models. Luna imperceptibly winced as she realized her speech had rather obviously revealed to her entire guard just how frazzled she was at the moment.

No matter, she thought. Whatever that tugging was, it still called to her, and she had to answer.

Luna flew down the alleys of Manehatten, guided by the mysterious tugging. She passed through alleys devoid of life, and alleys littered with pony dead. She sheathed her Starlit Knife and rested the Lunar Lance on her back, turning her full focus to the hunt. The sight and reek of the rotting dead tore at Luna’s heart, but she resisted. There would be time or sorrow in the safety of her tower.

Soon, she came upon an alleyway filled with dead cultists. Disturbingly, this alley was the worst to behold. The dead ponies had simply been killed; any who might have been mutilated seemed to have been dragged out to the horrific sacrifice-fields the Word Bearers had constructed. Those equine corpses which remained were simply dead, shot or stabbed or hacked. These alien dead which now lay before her eyes had been torn apart.

They were splattered everywhere; blood and gore filled the alleyway like water in a stream. Stretches of char reached along parts of the mess. Some bodies were relatively intact, with only a crushed torso or missing limb, but most were simply ripped apart. Whatever had passed through here was a monster, of that Luna was sure.

The tugging dragged Luna further down that alley. For a time, the massacre grew only worse, the dead so thick on the ground that Luna could begin to make out strange tracks, like those one might find in a fresh layer of snow. Then, mercifully, the mess abated, the reek of death diminished, and slowly diminished. At last the she found herself just short of the source of the tugging, hovering at the entrance to an old, decrepit apartment building.

Luna slipped inside. She wreathed a shield of night about herself, blending into the shadows and becoming all but invisible. She carefully trotted up the stairs, employing the full extent of her skill to keep every hoofstep as silent as the night. The building was deserted; not a single living thing appeared in Luna’s sight, though, to her horror, the coppery tang of blood slowly wafted back into her nostrils. She tensed and briefly wondered what had become of the building’s inhabitants; had they found safety, or had the Word Bearers gotten to them?

Those thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a deep voice.

“Holy Chaplain, should we not simply handle this quietly and depart?” the voice asked, grunting with effort.

As Luna crept up to a door hanging on broken hinges, the distinctive voice of the Blood Angel Alessandro spoke.

“You are young, Brother Marco, and still ignorant of many things,” Alessandro said. “Our Holy Primarch has decreed thus: that no Blood Angel will ever die in silence. And so we commit Brother Jagus to the Emperor’s Judgement. We pray, O Noble Gene-Father, that you might take pity on your fallen son, and plead his case before the Throne.”

From just around the door, beneath the booming words of Alessandro, Luna could hear a furious, incoherent rambling. With the silence of a sleeping lamb, she slipped around the corner. The sight she was met with made her gasp in shock.

The floor was a shallow pool of viscous blood. Furniture was broken and overturned. Shattered plates, soaked books, ruined food, and a handful of stained dolls lay like rocks in a gory lake. Several Earth Ponies laid strewn across the far side of the room. The dying embers of the sun’s light cast a harsh orange hue through the shattered windows. In the centre of the room a monster in crimson armour clad kneeled.

The eyes were what stole Luna’s attention. Those bloodshot orbs bore an insatiable hunger, a mindless appetite. It was utterly alien to Luna’s mind, and yet intimately familiar…

The world rippled. Alien spires loomed overhead, their stone walls cracked open and stained glass windows shattered. The evening sun shone through the holes, bathing the room, chapel, in its orange tint. Blood pooled on the floor, leaking from the alien dead which littered the floor. Luna stepped forward, her golden armour making no sound save the quiet lapping of the vitae against her heels. In the centre of all this death he kneeled, blood dripping from his lips, enlarged fangs shining in his open mouth, all-consuming madness tainting his very eyes: the monster and victim all in one.

She knew his name, and yet it escaped her tongue; she knew at a glance the circumstance of his birth, recalled the day of his ascension, and at once knew not a thing about him. She stretched out a gold-armoured hand.

“Come, please, I wish to…” Luna began.

The air cracked, and the monster’s head was gone in a burst of gore. The spires were gone, though the blood-pool remained. The monster’s corpse slumped to the ground with a splash and a thud as alien armour slammed into cheap tiling.

Freed from the hallucination, Luna took in the room once more. The orange light shone again through broken windows, not shattered spires. Only one alien lay dead in the room, and there was not a hint of golden armour to be found.

What could be found were three aggressive alien warriors.

At a glance Luna recognized Alessandro in his night-black armour. Behind him stood two of his red-armoured subordinates; both a simple line soldiers, indistinguishable at a glance from each fellows.

One line soldier hefted a massive box, a heavy flamer, if Luna remembered correctly, a weapon he had grabbed too quickly for a being of his size and bulk. The other had with equally impossible speed drawn a boltgun. Alessandro’s ebony grasp was wrapped around a boltpistol, with his crackling mace raised above his head, ready to strike.

All were aimed directly at Luna. At that moment, all of them were also irrelevant to her thoughts.

For in-between them all was a second line soldier, laying face-down in the pool of gore, blood spurting from the stump that had once been his head.

“What did you do?” Luna demanded, the words bubbling up from the depths of her mind before she could fully grasp their origin or intent. “Why did you kill one of your own?”

“Be gone, xenos!” he roared, aiming his boltpistol right at Luna’s head. “You should not be here! You have no right to be here!”

Luna snorted in anger. “Such arrogance! Thou art in our realm, standing in the blood of our subjects, we have every right! What madness has taken you to do such a thing?”

Wings flared, Luna stood muzzle-to-pistol with the Chaplain. Her horn and eyes glowed as she summoned her magic. The line soldiers tensed. Alessandro stood stock still, his pistol but an inch from Luna’s forehead. The crimson eyes of his skull-mask never wavered, their hatred unyielding and unrelenting.

Then, he relaxed. Alessandro let his pistol-arm fall to his side and lowered his mace. His fellows fell into a wary ease, their weapons lowered, but the emerald eyes of their helms still firmly fixed on Luna.

“I cannot slay you, xenos, and no falsehood could I easily spin,” the Chaplain said. He spun the boltpistol around, grasping it by the body, and extended it to the line soldier. “Marco, I thank you for the use of your weapon.”

The line soldier, Marco, holstered the boltpistol and passed another weapon, an inferno pistol, Luna recalled, to Alessandro. Marco inhaled deeply and took a half-step forward.

“Chaplain, is this wise? It is xenos, alien and unworthy of our trust,” he said.

“You are right, Marco, but in this matter we have no choice” Alessandro said. He turned his full attention back to Luna. “No madness has taken us. Jagus was weak, and so he had to be purged. More than that I will not say.”

Luna stepped forward and stretched up her neck, straining so that her muzzle was as close to Alessandro’s face as she could manage. “Since you have arrived you have brought death to my home. You have insulted and belittled by sister and my friends. Now, one of your soldiers starts eating my subjects, and this is the best you offer? We will have the truth, now!”

Luna shouted those last words. To her surprise, the Blood Angels all retreated a step. For a fraction of a second, too fast to be sure, their knees seemed to almost buckle.

“The Thirst!” the words were torn from the other soldier’s lips, unbidden and forced. The Blood Angel dropped his weapon and grasped at his throat.

“Arman!” Marco called.

“I…” the line soldier, Arman, tried to stop, but as he fell to his knees, words tumbled out against his will. “It consumed him, overtook him, I’m so sorry, Chaplain…”

Alessandro jammed the barrel of his inferno pistol under Luna’s muzzle.

“What sorcery is this?” he bellowed. “Release your grip on us, now!”

“We have done nothing!” Luna shouted. Fury boiled up in her heart. Her vision began to tinge red and black, dragon-slit eyes of palest green gazing upon an ivory orb…

Luna gasped and flew back a step. She grit her teeth and shook her head. Never again! I will not succumb!

The Lunar Alicorn calmed herself, slowing her breathing and her heartbeat. She would not let the rage take her, not now.

Exhaling slowly and deeply, Luna tried again. “Just, tell me why. Why did your soldier kill these ponies, and why did you kill him? I promise I will tell no one else, just please, I must know.”

Alessandro slowly lowered his inferno pistol, then stood silent for a moment. After what seemed an eternity, he spoke.

“Very well, if only because Brother Arman has already betrayed our secret.”

Arman winced. “Chaplain, I…”

“Silence, Brother. Such things are not for the ears of outsiders, and I believe you have said enough as it stands,” Alessandro said, silencing his brothers. He gestured to the dead Blood Angel. “Marco, Arman, extract the Chapter’s Due as best you can. Xenos, in truth, I do not know whether Jagus slew these xenos. He was… drinking already when we arrived. Mayhaps he was the killer, mayhaps not. He died for his weakness, as I told you. He allowed the Red Thirst to overcome him. In that moment he died. What I slew was little more than a walking corpse.”

A memory unbidden rose up in Luna’s mind. A day, so many years ago, when she and Celestia were still young, when Father and Mother still ruled and the world was so simple. Bloodstains on an ivory coat, an unbeating heart, horrified screams and the inscrutable look on Father’s face…

Luna banished the thought. There would be time for suspicion and remembrance later; for no, she had a battle to fight, and ponies to save.

“I have heard enough. Come, we have more pressing matters at hoof,” Luna said, turning to the door. Before she stepped through, she took one look back at Alessandro. “I… apologize. This must be difficult for you. I will keep my promise, Alessandro. No one will know, not from my lips.”

“Beware the xenos, for its mind is deceit and shadows,” Alessandro recited. “But I will hold you to your word. Now be gone! This was never your matter, and I will not suffer your taint in it any longer.”

Luna whirled back. Before her fury could surge forth, the discipline she had slowly built since her redemption held her back. Gritting her teeth, she softened her response, even though she knew the insufferable alien did not deserve it. “Just make sure you and your lac- soldiers get back to the battle. You can have your secrecy, but I’ll not let good ponies be harmed because of it.”

Alessandro laughed. “Xenos, all the power in your world could not keep me from the Emperor’s Praise. We will be again at the forefront when the blood is to be shed.”

With that disturbing line firmly lodged in her mind, Luna sighed and left. She soared for her Lunar Guard, and made a quiet wish for something to fight. For all the pain and suffering it brought, battle offered her a purity of mind she had never found elsewhere.

To Luna’s great misfortune, the fulfillment of her wish was, at that very moment, descending to Equus’ surface, carried on wings of tainted steel.

Author's Notes:

Phew, glad that’s over. The bit with Luna and Alessandro was really, really hard to work out. Easily the two most volatile characters in the story facing off in a shouting match. Very, very hard to keep everyone alive. I hope you guys enjoyed the final product.

Plus, I originally wrote it with Dabriel instead of Arman, and Marco ended up with Dabriel’s lines. Make of that what you will.

Funny story, when I simulated the battle between Luna and the Chaos Terminators, Luna actually failed to generate any psychic powers. She had 9 warp charges, and failed to generate a single power.

A quick aside, the Melee Weapons list for the Equestrians has not yet been completed. Suggestions are welcome.

Luna, Princess of the Moon 100 points

Luna: WS5 BS5 S4 T4 W4 I5 A4 Ld10 Sv3+/4++

Unit Type: Jetbike

Unit Composition: 1 (Unique)

Wargear: Armour of the Moon Princess, The Lunar Lance, Starlit Knife

Special Rules: Unicorn Horn, Pegasi Wings, Stubborn, Princess of Equestria, Independent Character, Psyker Mastery Level 3, Mistress of the Moon, Fear, Fearless, Rage, Tantabus

Mistress of the Moon: This rule improves any Invulnerable Save Luna might receive by 1. Furthermore, if Luna has been selected as Warlord, then Night Fighting is automatically activated, and lasts an extra turn. Units in Luna’s detachment gain Night Vision and Shrouded while Night Fighting is active.

Tantabus: at the beginning of his or her turn, the controlling player must roll a d6 and consult the table below:

Roll Result

1 Nightmare: Luna is struck with a vivid memory of her time as Nightmare Moon. She must take a Leadership Test. If failed, Luna automatically detaches from any squad she is part of and moves d6” in a direction decided by a roll of the Scatter Die (a roll of Direct Hit is treated as being a movement of 0”). If passed, treat this as 2-5 (Unaffected).

2-5 Unaffected: Luna controls normally this turn.

6 Rage of the Night: Consumed by a horrific nightmare, Luna enters a frenzy and gains the Feel No Pain rule and gains +1A until the beginning of the controlling player’s next turn. If there is an enemy squad within 12” and Line of Sight at any point during the Movement or Assault Phases, Luna must attempt to charge them.

Armour of the Moon Princess: this ancient relic was forged over one thousand years ago to serve as an impenetrable fortress Luna might wear into battle. Made from the mysterious metal known as Moon-Steel and imbued with powerful defensive magics, it grants a 3+ armour save.

The Lunar Lance: an ancient relic said to have been wielded by Queen Stella herself during the Pre-Discordian Age, this lance is almost without peer among the weaponry of Equus. Long-forgotten magics are infused into the very Moon-Steel from which it was forged, granting it a killing capacity equalled only by the mightiest of Equusian artifacts. However, its massive size and long haft leave it unsuited for rapid use. It has the following profile: S+2 AP2 Melee, Unwieldy

Luna can generate powers from the Equestrian, Biomancy, Telepathy, and Telekinesis disciplines.

Lunar Guard Squad 40 points

Thestral Veteran: WS3 BS3 S3 T3 W1 I3 A2 Ld8 Sv5+

Thestral Veteran Sergeant: WS3 BS3 S3 T3 I3 W1 A2 Ld8 Sv5+

Unit Type: Jetbike

Composition: 4 Thestral Veterans, 1 Thestral Veteran Sergeant

Wargear: Equestrian Steel Armour, Starlit Knife, Hoof Crossbow

Special Rules: Pegasi Wings, Night Vision, Furious Charge

Options:

The Squad can add up to 5 more Thestral Veterans… 5 pts each

Any model can take items from the Melee Weapons List

Melee Weapons List (Preliminary)

A model may replace one weapon with any of the following:

Battleaxe… 5pts

Longsword…5pts

Morningstar… 5pts

Wargear:

Starlit Knife: an artifact-weapon used exclusively by the Lunar Guard, and said to possess a blade as sharp as a moonbeam. It has the following profile: S User AP- Melee, Mastercrafted, Rending, Specialist

Hoof Crossbow: 12” S3 AP- Pistol

Battleaxe: S+1 AP5 Melee, Unwieldy

Longsword: S User AP6 Melee

Morningstar: S+2 AP- Melee, Concussive

And lastly, all Word Bearers from here on out will have the following special rules (Thanks to Boltaction for the advice on the Mark of Chaos Undivided):

Word Bearers Legion Rule (from Kill Team: Heralds of Ruin): all models gain Crusader. Possessed can be taken as Troops.

Mark of Chaos Undivided (5pts per model): At the beginning of the controlling player's turn, he/she may choose the model with this special rule to have one of the four Marks of Chaos (Mark of Khorne, Mark of Slaanesh, Mark of Nurgle, or Mark of Tzeentch) and all its effects. This Mark will last until the beginning of the controlling player's next turn. The same Mark of Chaos may not be chosen in two consecutive turns.
(Original link: http://www.lounge.belloflostsouls.net/showthread.php?52136-quot-Bearers-of-the-Word-quot-Word-Bearers-Homebrew-Codex)