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FERRYMEN ADEPTUS ASTARTES: REVILERS CHAPTER CONCEPT: NARRATIVE SUMMARY (Max 100 Words): Sergeant Ravyx Atton leads a Phobos Strike Team from the secretive Revilers Space Marine Chapter. When the navigators of a Torchbearer fleet are incapacitated by a psychic trap, becalming them in Magellan’s Crucible – a fluctuating passage through the Cicatrix Maledictum – Atton and his men deploy to the embattled world of Aluxan to sequester their psychic novices, in order to save the fleet and prosecute the will of Roboute Guilliman. Strike Team: Charon must infiltrate and evade the legions of rebels to effect a rescue, and thwart a deadly plot by the Alpha Legion, before time runs out EXTRACT (Max 500 Words): Racing to the door, Atton tore smoke grenades from his body webbing, hurling them down either corridor, before stepping out, sweeping the carbine left and right. Telemetry depicted where the rest of his team were, and they moved as fast as he, efficiently from room-to-room. His foot smashed doors in, then a shock grenade, followed by a sweep of the space with the carbine. He set the weapon stablight to strobe, for maximum disruption, erupting into the confined quarters at the same moment as the pummelling concussion thundered. Heretics were blasted off their feet by the detonation, before the scene became a series of flash-picter images. Atton executed them with tight shots from the suppressed carbine, not a round wasted. He was grateful for the forward grip; the mobility of the weapon was exceptional. Moving to another room, he repeated the sequence, and it sounded like a storm was battling to escape the temple. Great bolts of noise were quelled by the baffles in his auto-senses. Heretics reeled from his attack, hands pressed to cover popped eardrums, before Atton put them out of their misery with a wicked volley. One of them, mutated into a hulking brute, crashed through the wall before he could ready his next bomb. It roared at him, grappling him from behind, in a slew of plaster and stonework. The mutant’s clutching claws snapped the strap on his bolt carbine, sending it spinning away, as the creature barrelled forward, trying to make him a permanent fixture within the opposite wall. The power of his foe was tremendous, muscle-corded arms wrapping his body, trapping his limbs, rivalling his Rubicon-wrought strength. Anger spurred defiance. Atton pushed off with his feet, hurling both combatants back through the jagged gap the mutant had opened, and they tumbled together crunching furniture and ripping down hanging silks. The heretic-beast shifted grip, clamping its paw over his face, fingers fused into two long talons, hooking onto his skull mask and trying to wrench his helmet off. The change gave him a chance, and he got his left arm free, seizing a broken table leg and thrusting it up behind him where his Lyman’s Ear discerned the enemy’s voice box. Clotted, guttural bellowing announced his success, and he twisted the stake, breaking it off, the pressure on his ribs vanishing as the brute grasped to remove the painful splinter. As they writhed, rolling across the floor, the mutant trapped Atton’s neck more by luck than skill, but even as the pressure warning indicator flared dangerous amber sigils, Atton’s hand closed on his heavy bolt pistol. Four shots pumped into the brutal knot of twisted muscle behind him. He didn’t care where he was hitting, Atton trusting that the Emperor’s ordained tools would do the work. The mutant howled even as its organs were pulverised, a strangled human note to the plaintive cry, before Atton punched the barrel under its blubbery chin, and blew its mismatched, horned head off in a shower of red-grey gruel. ++++++++++