Things Have Gone Awry

[mega_marines]

It was the roar of a lion, the bestial snarl of a wolf, it was the roar of the Koris’ assault cannon. Where bullets flew, targets exploded into fleshy pieces. The terminator strode forward, his footsteps carrying him upon the bodies of his fallen enemies. Crunches of bone and the tearing of flesh met his feet. “Enemies! Behind the pillars!” cried Sergeant Dacen, his own storm bolter filling the air with bolt shells. Koris’ cannon sprayed the stone pillars, tearing great chunks of concrete from each one. A few collapsed instantly, their millennia old stature long decayed from the absence of care. With their destruction came the scream of their foes; cultists screaming and gurgling in pain. A few were brave enough to break cover and charge. Perhaps a dozen or so of the mad men and women made it out of their hiding spots before being blown apart by the chattering assault cannon, but none made it past the tirade of the four storm bolters now spraying the kill-zone. One lucky cultist managed to let off a shot of his plasma pistol before being turned to a fleshy pulp, and his blast met the shoulder of brother Tryus. The mighty warrior staggered back a few paces, his shoulder pauldron warping from the concentrated burst. He roared angrily as his armor continued to steam, and let off his tirade of rounds; killing the last few of the crazed cultists. As the dust settled, and the guns fell silent, a pillar collapsed, perhaps signifying temporary victory for the Ultramarines. Dacen smirked, but of course it was unnoticeable from within his striped helmet. “Well done men, objective secured.’ The three hundred year old sergeant tilted his head towards the direction of Tryus. “Status?” he queried. “No threats remaining, Sergeant” replied the veteran, his own voice void of pain. Dacen laughed heavily, clacking his storm bolter on the right shoulder of his old friend. “I mean your shoulder, old friend. You damaged at all?”

 

The squad advanced, their heavy feet crunching through the remnants of the old building. Tryus retorted with a faint chuckle, his own steps taking him over pieces of rubble splattered with blood and viscera. “I’m fine, brother. Just lost my balance for a moment.” Brother Morix and Helian both laughed as well. “You yelled in anger for losing your balance?” laughed Morix, his bolt shell pendant clanking off his breastplate with an almost musical rhythm as he did so, his storm bolter still scanning the area for threats. Helian smashed a still standing pillar aside, and tilted his head in Tryus’ direction. “I almost pitied the fools you blew apart in that fit of yours.” Koris remained silent, though a wide grin played upon his features buried inside his helmet as he swept his field of vision with his assault cannon. The ruined church was now secured; all that was left to do was wait for captain Agemman’s command to continue along with the mission.

 

Morix nodded to his sergeant as he swept a gauntlet over his breastplate, clearing the Aquila of dried blood and dirt with sweeps of his massive fingers. “I’m going to go check the upper floor for additional data and enemies. I’ll return in a moment or so.” Sergeant Dacen finished his momentary over-watch and voxed to his battle brother as he went up the mostly intact stairwell. “Good idea, report anything you find.” Morix tapped the wall against the decaying stairwell in acknowledgement; “Yes sir.” Tryus stood at the bottom of the steps, watching his friend pace up the cracking concrete stairs gently. Without warning Morix’s armored foot slammed through a step, almost falling to his knees. “Emperor damn it!” growled Morix as pulled himself up and out of the hole he made and clambered up the rest of the steps. Thankfully, none of the other steps broke under the weight of the armor. Tryus turned away from the wreckage, shaking his head lightly. “I felt as if I saw that coming…” He paced forward to where Helian stood, staring into the bruised sky. “Something on your mind, brother?’ Helian turned his head, the action mimicked through his armor. “The sky. It seems as if…something’s amiss…” Tryus played with the thought for a moment and met his brother gaze. “I’ve been feeling it too. As if we’re being watched from far away.” The Ultramarine jerked a thumb skyward. “Namely from orbit.” The sergeant crunched through the rubble, punching out a wall painted over with a symbol of Chaos Undivided. He growled in disgust as he did so. “Whatever it may be, I’m sure the captain will tell us.” The three veterans all nodded in agreement; their thoughts all unified for that split moment. The silence was broken almost instantly, storm bolter fire filling the air, its sound muffled through the upper walls. “Contact!” cried Morix over the vox net.

 

As everyone spun to move to the stairs, the wall to the left of it exploded. The unmistakable form of Morix was made clear, followed by another. They crashed to the floor, the stone ground breaking and blood spurting and gushing from heavy wounding. Morix rose, the form of an Astartes scout lying at his feet. Icons of unintelligible evil marked him, from tattoos to scriptures upon his armor. Morix kicked the corpse over, revealing a crimson “X” upon the shoulder pad. “The scum was waiting for me, unmoving and not even breathing. He registered as a corpse on my auspex.” Snarled the terminator, his anger apparent. Dacen walked forward, his gaze meeting the renegade’s lifeless one. “That symbol….It means the dreaded enemy is here…” The dead, and lifeless eyes of the fallen scout snapped even more open and his head shook angrily. His mouth opened and a row of pearlescent fangs offset his features. “The Red Corsairs have come for this world, Ultramarines! Know the fury of Huron Blackheart! Know your doom awaits!” The supposedly dead renegade cackled madly, his laughter ear piercing. Helian slammed his foot down, crushing the scouts head beneath it with a sickly crunch of bone and gristle. The head disappeared beneath the boot and brackish blood spilled about. “I knew my feelings were correct…” His helmet tilted to Dacen. ‘We must inform captain Agemman immediately!” The Sergeant nodded, tapping the long range vox on the ear of his helmet.

 

“Dacen to Agemman, Dacen to Agemman. We have confirmed presence of the Red Corsairs renegade force upo-“The vox screeched with static and Dacen cringed at the ear splitting sound. Over his suits external speakers played out a garbled message, the words abundantly clear. “Make your last moments dear, loyalist scum. We, the Hounds of Huron have come for you!” The vox spluttered and died in a wash of static. Everyone looked to the terminator sergeant. He met each of their gazes and looked skyward. In the distance, teardrop shapes appeared, each one a dark red and black. In the opposite direction, rained blue variations of the tears. Each side was now bringing their forces to bear upon this bleak and desolate world. As the squad began to stride forward, the earth about them began to warm, as did the very air. Tryus’ eyes widened as he spotted loose dirt and rocks slowly begin to rise into the air. He looked to the sky again, the faint silhouette of a cruiser appearing above the Ultramarine’s heads. A shadow slowly crept over the squad, the very enemy ship blocking out the sunlight. The ground began to tremble, the heat becoming unbearable even within the tactical dreadnought armor. Dacen grit his teeth, he knew what was coming next. “Orbital Strike!” he cried. The squads world flared white as the blast consumed them. For long moments of agony, they knew nothing but a searing hot pain, and the brightest of light.

 

Koris was the first to rise, his very armor smoldering and blackened. He ripped his helmet free as the eye lenses had fused with the helmet itself. What met the warm winds was his pained breath and his bruised features. He turned and looked about him, his comrades slowly rising alongside him, their own armor warped and blistered. Dacen was being helped up by Tryus, the Sergeants form hanging off his shoulder. The assault cannon bearing veteran focused to his right, the form of Helian pulling an unmoving Morix from a pile of rubble. They were battered and worn, but not out. Koris spit a bit of blood from his split lip onto the now still ground and snarled. Amongst the landscape of the damaged world, drop pods took residence. What bothered the Ultramarine even more, were the dozens of shapes moving towards them. Each one unmistakably a dark ruby-red. Koris pulled the trigger of his assault cannon as his brothers came to bear. The barrels of the massive gun whining loudly as they began to cycle. “Feel my wrath, you traitorous whoresons! The Ultramarines will not go quietly!” He roared in rage as the bullets began to fly.