Weight of Brotherhood.

[BruvaTrav]

      The ground shook with the approach of the tank. It ascended a loose pile of debris and traversed its main gun to face the building second squad had taken cover in, scant seconds passed as the gun crew searched for a target and finally let fly out of impatience most likely. Loose debris and dust fell and Talial wondered how much more the structure could take before it crashed around them. The Ork tank had them pinned though, it was a dead end street, and it was crushing everything in its path in a ponderous roll towards second squad. One of the tanks heavy stubbers began firing. Its finger sized ammunition chewing up the rockcrete wall that Talial had taken cover behind. The tanks stubber finished its volley and on its last note Talials vox bead crackled into life.

            

        “Fear not Brothers, we have heard your call, descending on the target now”

   

  Talial looked to the sky upon hearing this gladdened by the swift retribution he knew to be coming. The Space Marines of the Assault squad shouted their war cry descending on the tank on plumes of fire, their red armor the color of split blood, they fell to the ground like their namesake Angels of Death. The cries of the Assault Marines carried over the speakers of their breather grills, booming the Emperors’ distaste for the foul xenos beast in the metallic monotone of their armors vox.

  Talial twisted and spun from his current position, on one knee, so that he was now standing behind the cover of a burned out municipality building column from this new better vantage he watched as the Assault squad Sergeant took aim with his plasma pistol and with two shots blew out a rear access panel. The Sergeant quickly turned to his right where a Battle Brother waiting on one knee with a prepped melta charge in his outstretched gauntlet.

   The Assault Sergeant took the proffered device and with a speed that only countless repetition and drilling until it was muscle memory could explain he lunged for rear of the Ork vehicle slamming the melta charge into place with his left gauntlet he depressed the final ignition primer on the charge then tilting his back at a near forty five degree angle with the ground and ignited his jump pack.

         The squad following suit neatly took off, the Sergeant at such an angle seemed to hover for bare milliseconds seeming to defy gravity then his packs turbines switched into high gear and he blasted skyward. The Assault squad descended to safety the Sergeant the last to touch down, his squad covering him while he retrieved his chainsword from it’s mag lock at his hip. Talial returned his attention back to the Ork tank. It had billowed up a significant amount of smoke, its greasy tang coated Talials tongue, he regretted choosing to doff his helmet in the heat of battle, but the thirst was on him, so strong this day.

    The tank changed gears with a loud clang as if to move forward and return to its pursuit of Talials’ Tactical squad when it unceremoniously blew up. There was no burning of the rear engine component’s, no melting tread or track like on a well maintained vehicle.

    The Ork tank that had begun it’s life as a noble Imperial Leman Russ pattern was ended in a dusty ridden back alley led to its end by an incompetent xenos breed. It was upon this reflection that Talial could see why his Techmarine Brothers would feel what passed as emotion among their kind when a great machine met its end.

        Brother Sergeant Asban strode from his position within the municipal building. He had taken cover behind a large functionary desk it was from this position he halted the squad, ordered them to take cover, and reached out via his suit vox to implore aid in the destruction of the greenskin tank. Talial quickly reaffixed his helmet, the thirst would have to wait he thought to himself, he didn’t wish to be reprimanded by Asban. The helmet snapped into place and with a trill of electronic startup Talials vision was painted a vibrant shade of jade.

          

  "Second squad form up, tear formation" Asban ordered and Talial blink clicked his affirmation to the order.

 

The squad quickly formed what would appear to be the tip of a spear moving in reverse. The bell of the formation moved first, comprised of Battle Brothers Oberon, Erziab and Talial at the formations point was Sergeant Asban. The two Squads regarded each other as Second squad passed their counterparts.

        

            “Well met Brother Sergeant” said the Assault Sergeant

           

            "Indeed Brother your timing and execution were most fortuitous" Replied Asban.

 

            "The Emperor Protects" Said the Assault Sergeant without much thought, his attention was already back on the Company vox net.

 

It took the Assault Sergeant only a few seconds to patch back into the company vox and decipher where he was needed most.

           

           "Forgive me Brother, duty calls perhaps we may continue this conversation at the victory sacrament" the Assault Sergeant said the dull monotone of his voice betraying where his attention truly lay. Talial knew the feeling.

           

          "Of course Brother Sergeant, needs must" replied Asban.

      

    The Assault Sergeant turned his attention fully back to Asban at that moment. He said nothing, his helmet betraying nothing of the brothers emotions. The two Sergeants regarded each other for bare moments before the Assault Sergeant nodded at Asban, who returned the gesture, and at his cue took flight with the rest of his squad exploding on jets of burning promethium. Asban turned from where he stood and blink clicked his tactical map into existence on his helmets visor.

    He took in the press and flow of the battle and it pleased him. The Ork lines were routed, expertly driven out of the hive by a series of feints and hits orchestrated in coordination with the Company’s tactical and assault squads. Fifth Host was now reorganizing for the final push. Asban attended the commanders brief prior to the battle and he knew the moves before they were being made. With a thought he patched himself into the company command vox.

    

          “Captain Uriah this is Brother Sergeant Asban, Knight Two en route to secondary staging point”

        

          "‘Brother Sergeant Asban, Captain Uriah, acknowledged" came the reply.

      Asban was not offended brevity was a necessity for their brotherhood. The thirst made it that way. The squad formed up and began climbing the rubble towards their rendezvous point. If one were watching from above it would look as if a single drop of blood fell.

   

                                               

           It would have been impossible for a unaugmented human to see the entirety of the strategium aboard the Battlebarge The Invictus. As it was for Chapter Master Benedictus he could see into the fuliginous depths to perceive the individual chapter serf’s hard wired to the walls at certain points and corners of the chamber. All possible to his occulus implant augmenting his already genhanced vision to adapt to the darkness.

The Invictus hung in orbit above the planet Brackenhold the end of the crusade in sight for the mighty Battle Barge. It floated like an armed citadel of the stars amid an armada of its fellows.

      The massive ship was dotted with gun ports and lance turrets along its dorsal conveyer mass the maws of which yawned in open anticipation towards the planets surface. The bow of the vessel terminated with an armored prow from which hung massive lance turrets and the various flight decks. Behind the kilometer spanning length of the dorsal mass and its gun batteries a city rose from atop the massive engine compartments.

      This city gleamed bronze and platinum in the starlight, great cylindrical towers rose from behind the bespoke crenelations and gun ports that surrounded the city. Each tower held its own beauties, massive mosaics of armor glass captured the Chapters hero's and legends in star light. Standing atop the observation dome stood a statue of an Angel, its wings were spread behind it and the statue captured the Angel it seemed in mid stride his sword arm was raised and the weapon pointed towards the bow of the ship extolling the fleet towards a brighter dawn.

      Amidships below the great statue and the observation dome, in the darkened strategium, the Chapter Master of the Angels Sanctified, Benedictus the Lord of Hosts stared at a hololithic of the planet's surface.The wan light of the three dimensional holograph gave more than enough residual information for his supra enhanced eyesight to adjust. Benedictus was proud to be Astartes, he bore this pride on his chest in the firmly burnished image of the Imperial Aquila upon his breastplate. Even in this present darkness it reflected the wan red light of the hololith in a crimson silver glimmer, the wings of the of the two headed Imperial eagle caught the darkness and the light and threw it back into the gloom to dance with the shadows cast by the photon candles.

     He stood in the shadow of a large dark column of marble like construction. Its arch’s formed the images of Seraphim reaching down from clouds of fire to rescue the wretches wrought into each column. Grotesque shades doomed to a tormented end without the Angelic intervention. All this cast in the rotating shadow created by the revolving hololith projection painted a much darker portrait on the walls of the strategium.

          The grotesques upon the walls, the shadow play caused by the photon candles, ceased their dancing when the darkness was speared by the strategium door opening with a pneumatic hiss. A shadow grew from the slab of white painted on the strategium floor. The unmistakable bulk of an Astartes took up residence in the door way. It lifted arms decorated with Purity Seals and, with a following smaller hiss like the one of his entry, removed a skull helm revealing the face of Reclusiarch Rigaud the Master of Sanctity.

    The Chapters highest ranking Chaplain wore his hair conservatively like Benedictus but kept it shorter and brushed to the side in the manner of the Tartosian merchantmen from their home world. His Mark VII power armor though artificer wrought bore no especial device or held no reliquary in the greaves or chest piece with which to hide the relic of a long dead chapter hero or the skulls of conquered foes. His armor’s only adornments were a vast assortment of purity seals, some like those on his shoulders he let hang for all to see. They told of various honors bestowed him and achievements he had made in the name of the Emperor and Sanguinius.

           Of course some praised only the Emperor himself which was only fitting on the armor of a Chaplain. The others were displayed on his waist or thighs these were rolled up completely and attached to his belt fastened upon strings made of the dry Tortosian rock serpent leather. These litanies were of a different sort. They did not preach the pulchritude of the Golden Throne, they did not boast of the Lord of Mans protection in dutiful service. These were litanies of hate and blood.

     These were penned in the blood of every Chaplain when he earned the office. They are expected to be on his person at all times and loosed only when the Chaplain leads a the specialist organization that was known only to the chapters that carried the dark flaw of their long fallen Primarch.

    Rigaud stood before the Chapter Master of the Blood Paladins with that same smile he always wore. It was unnerving, the Chapters highest ranking Chaplain was anything but the conventional image of a Chaplain of the Adeptus Astartes.

    There are many Chaplains of high orders renowned the galaxy over for their stoic demeanor Reclusiarch Rigaud was not one of them. His face always seemed to be as toothy as the helm he wore with a leering skull as a sign of his office, but one would be mistaken if Rigaud were a mirthful man. In that facet he fit convention, there was no mirth in his eye’s only cold zeal.

           

         “Honored Chapter Master, I report as requested” said the ebon clad warrior.

 

       Benedictus straightened from the holo desk that projected an image of the battle on the planet surface. Benedictus took in the Reclusiarch, the man was appropriately unsettling, and he caused those he was around to suddenly feel the need to examine their words closely before uttering them. As if everything a Brother said around him would be sucked into those awful cauldrons of fanaticism and then chewed up dissected and filed away behind the lurid wall of ivory that lit the high chaplains face perpetually.

       

       “Yes Reclusiarch, I would know of our brothers under of the care of the chaplaincy” replied Benedictus.

 

       "They grow...restless Lord, I am aware of your wish to hold them back for the final assault but the fact remains…" he left the sentence hanging like a corpse from a hanging tree.

 

    The Chaplains’ smiled dimmed only the slightest from it’s usual predatory gleam to something a little more veiled. Benedictus wished to rebuke the Reclusiarch for the smirk when discussing the lost ones. He refrained from the urge knowing it to be but the mans nature although he still thought it a lurid quality undeserving of a Space Marine.

           

        “How much time do I have Brother Chaplain?”

 

        "We" began the Reclusiarch "are granted only a very short time Honored Master I suspect the next sunset will be their last, any longer and I, forgive me Honored Master, will have to intervene in the name of a duty higher than that of strategy my lord."

 

        Benedictus took this in, the strategist in him wished to wait, to muster his forces and attack in full Chapter force the way their battle doctrine preferred with a Death Company assault at the head. A glorious death for those tortured souls yet the man in him knew if it were denied them much longer, this promised destiny, the only way the chapter could shine a pallid light of redemption on these brothers in the wake of their fall, would curdle and sour and their deaths would be those of ignominy.

          

           “Very well Brother, a midnight assault it is” said Benedictus lips pursed eyes drawn back to the holomap. Rigaud stepped closer to the holomap and followed Benedictus’ gaze.

 

           “The xenos hope to go to ground in the hive sewer treatment plant” remarked Rigaud and Benedictus nodded.

    

           "Our brothers of the forge have been monitoring their transmission networks, apparently they believe us ’too flighty’ to follow them there” said Benedictus "Boss Burzlag" he paused as if disgusted at having to use the xenos’ name "believes he will able to regroup his forces in the sewers and begin a war of attrition counting on his races ability to go to ground and repopulate." Benedictus finished.

 

          "Clearly a survivor then" said Rigaud his smile had returned to its frightening illumination.

       

   The Reclusiarch's elongated eye teeth gleamed purest ivory no matter the red filtration of the strategium lights or the darkness imposed by the deliberately weak photon candles and it was clear from the look on the Reclusiarch face he relished the idea of ending the xenos’ heretofore survivability. The two genhanced warriors stood in silence for a few moments before Rigaud spoke up.

        

        “Well, with your leave Honored Master there is a sacrament to prepare”

 

         "Yes Honored Chaplain, there is, you have your leave if you wish it." With that Rigaud bowed his head low and let it hang before raising it again.

 

          "I will see you next in chapel then Honored Master" and with that the Reclusiarch turned and left.

    

   Benedictus shook his head and returned his attention to the map his concerns more on the future of this system than however the Reclusiarch of his chapter might unnerve him. Benedictus also knew of Rigaud’s secret duty, and how it was intimately and regrettably entwined with those fates of the Death Company should they not die in battle. He turned his thoughts from the Reclusiarch, from the eventual death the Chaplain and his black armor represented to all of the Adeptus Astartes, from his own eventual death possibly at the hands of the man who just left his strategium.

      

 

            Second squad stood formed up outside the sewer entrance. Their entry point was a worn out drainage grate at the back of a rubble strewn alley. The recent damage to the hive had done a good job in burying most of the filth of the city but in this cramped alleyway garbage and detritus was only covered by a patina of rockcrete dust. Brother Erziab stood at the grate entrance waving his auspex trying to get a read before they entered. Talial stood at the mouth of the alley way covering their backs Oberon stood at his side.

    Talial and Oberon were interesting contrasts though they came from the same planet and wore the same uniforms they couldn’t have been more unlike. Talial was whipcord thin, his features the trade mark handsomeness of a son of Sanguinius but in a gaunt way. Talial wore his hair short but let it fall naturally to frame his face. Brother Oberon on the other hand would have made a large man had he not been already accepted into the rank of the Adeptus Astartes.

    As it was his chest was still like that of an industrial promethium drum. His face was round and filled in and he wore a long shaggy beard, his woolen hair grew wildly from his head giving the look of a sun scorched madman. All this was hidden beneath their helms as they stood in silence their emerald tinted eye lenses glaring into the darkness.

              “The preliminary readings show nothing squad sergeant” said Erziab over the squad channel ‘however the thickness of the hive walls prevents accurate tracking by conventional method and the sharp decrease in elevation means I will only be able to track through echolocation or air disruption in the tunnels’ finished the auspex toting battle brother

        

             ‘Those means will avail us nothing, by the time we read them the beasts will be upon us.’ Sergeant Asban said with a shake of his head.

   

    Talial checked the chronometer on his helmets display, the operation would be moving forward shortly. He lifted the bell mouth of the flamer, he had swapped his bolter for at rendezvous point, and while mouthing a silent prayer to its machine spirit he checked the promethium tank was properly seated in its receptacle then moving down the barrel he set the promethium flow to normal outflow, wide dispersal.

   The flame weapon hissed as in response to his prayers as the weaponized gas flowed through the instrument. He then moved his fingers from the outflow adjustment aperture along the barrel to the weapons bell mouth. Rolling his thumb naturally he struck the small flint located at the barrel. The weapon ignited instantly and Talial returned to his vigil of the demolished city street.

    Minutes passed in silence while the battle brothers reflected privately. Each quietly wrestling with the thirst. These were it’s moments, the pre battle quiet when it whispered to each warrior son of Sanguinius and reminded them what thirst was. Each beat of his twin hearts was a drumbeat that sounded the longing locked within his genhanced physiology. If Talial closed his eyes he could hear the cry of a demigod cut down, the blood that flowed from those veins becoming a tidal wave of desire within him. A chime sounded in Talials ear breaking his dehydrated thoughts of the moment followed by the a small pict screen statically birthed into existence on every battle brothers display.

    On it the Chapter sigil next to a rectangular window that would in circumstances outside of immediate battle resolve into that of the speaker. As fifth company was deployed it lit only the particulars of the speaker, chiefly rank and position, within the Chapter. Talial couldn’t resist lifting an eyebrow in anticipation when he read the designator on his helmet display. Chapter Master Benedictus took the vox horn from the deck hand aboard the bridge of The Invictus and depressed the activation stud.

          “Brothers, we come to it now, the final endeavor from here we clear the xenos infestation from the planet. This is the culmination of our efforts brothers months of planning and sacrifice, months of denial.’ at this Benedictus paused ’but no longer brothers tonight we go to where the xenos makes itself comfortable, in filth and darkness, carry the Emperors light as your torch brothers and may the wings of Sanguinius shield you.’

    

     With this let the activation stud on the vox horn go and handed it back to the waiting deck hand.

         ’Officer Durant’ spoke Benedictus next when he turned from the vox station

 

        “My lord’ called a young officer of the chapter fleet ‘The firing solutions, they have been double checked?’ asked the Master of the Angels Tenebrous.

 

        ‘Yes Lord, the helots and crew have double checked already and I have looked over the figures myself Lord all is as it should be’ said the officer his position at attention grew more severe.

 

        ‘This is well Officer Durant thank you, you are dismissed’.

 

     Benedictus was not a man given to worry but this plan was bold, bold and hastily devised because of the nature of the fight one could not simply loose a squad of death company into the sewer system, at this Benedictus gave pause, perhaps that would be all it might take. He abandoned this thought as quickly as it came knowing it to be the folly that it was.

    Instead his company had been halved into combat squads each taking a various sewer entrance. These entrances corresponded with the hive building data they had on file from the local planetary noosphere. The combat squads were to delve deep working their own corkscrew path to the center of what was assumed to be the Ork forces and thusly their Warboss.

    Squads would sweep ahead with their auspex equipment, find this exact location and report back. When Benedictus received that final piece of information he would have the gun crews aboard the Invictus open fire with a pin point barrage followed by the release of the Death Company. Tradition dictated that a Death Company assault should be the beginning of an attack, but Benedictus’ dreams had been disturbed of late. Not that he truly slept his genhanced body had scientifically removed the need by implementation of the catalepsean node near the back of his brain. The tiny organ allowed a space marine to shut down parts of his brain systematically so that he may rest while being sensory perceptive. It was in this state that Ephram Benedictus dreamed, and what he saw worried him in his waking hours. He felt, nay he knew he had to reserve these maddened warriors for the end. Some great violence was necessary and Benedictus would see it done.

 

                Second squad moved through the inky blackness with Talials light at their head. They moved in silence the distant shouting of Orks and the beating of their hearts in their rushing in their ears the only thing they heard. Sergeant Asban called for periodic stops at junctions where Brother Erziab would scan with his auspex. Asban also was checking at each junction because at the upper levels he could still contact Captain Uriah and update him of his second squads status. The deeper they delved though the less reliable the transmissions grew, ultimately ending in only a harsh static to the private frustration of Asban. The one weapon the tactical sergeant hated to be without was a working vox.

     At their latest junction crossing the shouts of the greenskins was elevated to at distant roar, deep almost unheard bellows punctuated by more clearly heard yelps of urgency and alarm in the higher end of the decibel spectrum. The xenos knew they were coming and second squad was a good deal closer to them now. Asban tried one last time with the vox but no avail. Talial looked on into the blackness of the chamber ahead his vision a dull jade in the darkness of their subterranean surroundings. Water dripped loudly here fat droplets that overlaid the xenos roaring but made no rhythm they fell to their own time creating a haunting non melody that syncopated to the present drops falling.

      Talials breather grille in his mask kept the outside stench of his surroundings from him. He breathed the recycled air of his suit freely preferring its slightly used tang to what currently marred his boots.

       

            “Brother Sergeant, twenty five meters east air displacement, several targets moving this way” spoke up Erziab.

 

     The squad had barely enough time to react when a mob of Orks rounded the corner of the sewer tunnel. Their boisterous shouts were turned into cries of surprise and then bellows of rage. They charged second squad their weapons fired solid shot slugs with terrible accuracy but the sheer volume threatened to overwhelm the squad. Talial being at the forefront was the first to react his flamer ignited catching a small mob of the brutes. They burned with an awful clamor their bodies sizzling like ripe wet fungus in a pan.

     Then the rest of the squad opened fire engaging in shots of opportunity picking off the xenos in mid stride when their lumbering forms presented their heads at the zenith of their profile. Oberon took his time with the shots placing them expertly in succession. The bolt projectiles snapped through the air impacting the targets in eyes and jaws causing their simian shaped skulls to explode showering their comrades in purple ichor. Even in the face of this the orks began to rally, pushed forward by those in the rear of their ranks yet to attack. Talial again shot a stream of burning promethium into them, sweeping from left to right, ensuring all were dead.

         

            “Forward Brothers!” yelled Asban “Keep up the momentum”.

   

      At his order the squad surged forward rounding the next corner they moved at a steady pace into the darkness, looking for the next juncture, moving ever closer to the underground warrens of the Orks. Time lost meaning in the tunnels, it became an endless press and flow of battle. A pair of greenskins charged Talial the first shoulder charged crashing into him expecting the Space Marine to bowl over. The sheer weight of Talials armor saved him and he stood firm in the onslaught, the Orks unprotected shoulder gave an audible crack but the creature gave no mind its gaze fixated on Talial's emerald eye lenses, Talial glared back into the beasts jaundiced orbs. He let the other of the pair believe he was no longer aware of it’s presence, it was somewhere behind him, he needed to move to get the other beast into his peripheral vision again.

      Talial began a series of feints with the combat blade he held in his free left hand he turned this into an opportunity to put the pair of xenos within his vision again by forcing the Ork he fought with into a position between him and his fellow. Talial knew he had spent too much time on these two already he had to end this quickly. He charged the Ork a tremendous bellow boomed thundering from his vox grille, forcing himself nearly chest to chest with the xenos he stabbed it’s torso again and again pumping his arm into the weak points of the Orks’ shoddy war plate letting his armor turn the shank into a full gauntleted piston. The Ork roared and squirmed flinging about wildly with it’s simian like arms but Talial began twisting his shoulder pauldrons turning it’s grasping struggles into a useless clumsy dance where the beast found no purchase on Talials armor.

    Talial continued driving the beast forward finally when he was just paces from his fellow who looked on in growing frustration as it struggled for a shot with it’s large box like side arm. Talial never gave it the chance pulling the Ork in tight he slipped his right arm, which still held the flamer in it’s pistol grip, under the left armpit of the Ork he embraced he depressed the weapon trigger and guided the burning onslaught onto the second Ork. Talial then drew back his arm turning his left shoulder into the Ork he still clutched he slammed his armored pauldron into the beasts chest and took a step back.

      The Ork, bleeding from multiple wounds and winded, managed to right itself and it’s gaze returned to Talial a fresh outrage fueled by it’s comrades recent death burned in the merciless pits of what it’s alien biology called eyes. Talial simply turned the flamer on the beast and ignited it there. Talial turned from the Ork and assessed his squad. They fared little better and there was little his weapon could do to aid them in the close combat. Erziab stood triumphant one foot raised on a pile of Ork corpses his bolter lit the darkness periodically and its staccato roar matched the weird tattoo of the droplets off the filthy water and echoed them back in the strange acoustics of the sewer tunnels on waves of rage and murder that were previously the shouts of the Space Marines and their Ork enemy. Despite the roar of the chamber Talial heard none of it.

     All he heard was the beating of the hearts in his chest and the blood pounding in his ears. He had been trapped in his helmet breathing it’s dry recycled air for hours now. He was getting thirsty. His mouth had long run dry, minutes into the combat, and now hours later the splashes of Ork blood Talial allowed to pepper his helm so that he might periodically open the helmets seals and allow wafts of the xenos vitae to escape through his breather grille was no longer causing his mouth to water. It was a cheap trick known to many Battle Brothers, a dangerous one as well, some brothers could not withstand after hours of battle and succumbed to the thirst the relief of their own saliva triggering a millennia old curse.

    Talial is a full Battle Brother with two decades of battle experience, his will is strong but his genhanced body with it’s faulty implants will not be deceived forever.

     His throat is growing bone dry, as dry as the rad deserts of Tortosa, Talial's will keeps his mind on the fight but in the milliseconds that his eyes are closed he sees the Fortress Monastery and it is raining on it’s golden edifice. But the rain does not wash the burnished halls clean it mars it in a ruddy glow.

     The rain is blood. Talial's eyes open again his eye lids seeming to drag across the surface of the orbs. His combat knife is lodged in an orks throat, his enemy squirms in his grip in the darkness as his wicked monomolecular blade pins it to the wall by its neck. Talial is watching himself from the outside. He watches himself mag lock the flamer to his thigh and reach up with the now free hand to disengage the seals of his helmet. He sees a face, gaunt but handsome, his face, but the handsome face does the unthinkable it’s mouth opens to far, the pointed eye teeth shine in the darkness sticking too far out from the rest of their fellows. Then the face lowers its ghastly maw over the jetting blood of the Ork.

      Talial registers in another part of his brain the brackish fungal taste of the blood. It does not please him, it is foul and wrong but he is thirsty. So thirsty. He watches himself drink deep and the flow of blood returns to his ears till it is all he can hear till there is nothing but the roaring, like surf breaking upon the rocks. His vision blackens and Talial's mind lurches forward. He forces his mind to work, to respond, to fight the blackness encroaching him to still the fires of his rage.

      He is rewarded with the return of his vision but it is painted crimson. Talial inhales deeply through his nose and vision colors at the edges as his mind identifies targets based on their sweat and particulate blood matter that fills the chamber. In a corner of Talial's mind that is no longer in control he is granted a few precious moments of thought before the Thirst takes him. He feels chiefly regret

 

                “Angel guide and forgive me”

 

    he hears a part of himself say as if from far away or from the bottom of a lake of blood. At that moment Talial's vision darkened, the familiar form of Astartes battle plate,

 

              ‘His beneficence in that role will not be necessary today Brother’ came a far away reply.

 

     Talial was rocked back into the sewer wall and through the vermillion clouds that tainted his vision the form of Sergeant Asban could be made out.

Talial bared his fangs, his Brother was impeding his need to spill blood.

     Asban had Talial by his chest armor piece and slammed Talial into the sewer wall again ‘Control Brother!’ Asban bellowed ‘Resist, In the name of the Angel resist blood damn you now is not the time!’. Second squad had formed up around Talial now,

    Brothers Oberon and Erziab were covering them each the part of an intricate and much practiced fire pattern as they took turns firing and ducking in and out of cover at intervals whose timing was aimed at making their shots seem at random and continuous. Talial focused applying all his will to the task of fighting the Thirst, his reward were small blooms of untainted vision that grew the more he denied himself. Talial wanted to let his head hang and gather himself but Asban didn’t give him a chance forcing Talial's helmet into his errant brothers hands.

          

          “Keep the seals engaged this time Brother"

 

   said the Sergeant as he rounded on the enemy he slowed long enough to shout over his shoulder

 

          ‘and be sure to keep your helmet on until the rite of cleansing when we return to the ship do not shame your squad by letting the company know of your lack of restraint’.

 

Talial scowled but knew the Sergeant was right and he made to follow his leaders example quickly forcing the helmet onto his head again.

    

          Captain Uriah of the Fifth Company Angels Sanctified was a pragmatic man. He knew his company had to finish their objective quickly. The tunnels would swallow his men. The Chapter Master had been clear time was not on their side they fought for the honor of their brothers in the Death Company. Uriah felt another reason, the thirst, it was becoming unbearable. His throat was arid and with every breath the air he took in seemed to scour it further.

     He dragged his power sword from the latest Ork chest, it made a sickening pop upon it’s retraction while its disruption field that had been busy searing the greenskins flesh in an ever growing wound grew anew electrical surges cavorted across the blade then faded ephemerally from existence. Uriah took in his surroundings his Honor Guard were holding themselves well, their movements economic and precise.

     Uriah liked to keep his best killers by his side. He was not craven he simply enjoyed the company of expert warriors like himself. Pride was neither a sin of the Space Marine he knew he was good, not great but good. This knowledge made Uriah humble, humble and willing to admit to himself when he was overmatched.

     While no single Ork yet had met anything near his skill with blade, their numbers were endless. Even Space Marines tire eventually and his company had been fighting in the depths for twenty two hours straight. Nearly an entire day in Gothic standard time. More beasts were upon him, he had been reduced to using a system of stabs and feints his Armored form unable to swing his sword to its full extent within the tunnels. He had considered a different choice of weapon but he had fought this campaign with this blade He wished to see it finished with this blade. The blade was simply known as "Veritas" and it was gifted to Uriah upon his elevation to Captain of the Fifth Host where he received it as a gift from Chapter Master Benedictus.

    It was a weapon of great esteem to Uriah but it was also more, it was a symbol, and in the darkness of the sewers amid the alien hordes the symbolism of where it cut and stabbed and burned its way through enemies thanks to its power field. They had progressed hacking and slashing their way through the darkness proceeding to the next junction point.

   This junction was lit by a beam of sunlight that bored its way into the darkness. Uriah called for a halt with battle sign, and the veterans with him did not need to be told where to look into the darkness weapons raised in anticipation. Uriah allowed his armor to reestablish itself with the company vox and was immediately greeted with a static ridden transmission.

         

  “Kni---two--Knight seven we---greenskin---our coordin--”

 

     Uriah was able to still understand the message, second squad had found the objective the greenskin hold out point. With a thought Uriah brought up the tactical map downloaded from the cogitators aboard the Invictus and did his best to triangulate the position. He found the signal its location was large for an underground complex larger than it should have been. Uriah knew implicitly it must have been the weak signal strength of second squads transmission. This would mean inaccurate fire from the guns in orbit and possibly the death of second squad. Uriah could not conscience this. Not the death of an entire combat squad. Uriah turned to address the squads Sanguinary Priest

        

   “Brother Imlohai you and Brother Mordanth will hold here and attempt to raise the Thunderhawk inform them Brothers Fidelitus, Abornash and myself will proceed to Knight Two’s location and make a fighting withdrawal. Rendezvous here and continue with the plan. Understood?”

 

          “Aye Captain” said the Sanguinary Priest.

 

         “Very well, wings of Sanguinius shield you Brothers” said Uriah as he turned to go.

    

       It seemed to Brother Talial that they had found the Ork hold as if by happenstance but the Astartes did not believe in circumstance none of them did, all that was good in the galaxy was wrought from the will of the Golden Throne so said the Chaplaincy. While he had banished the Thirsts hold on him, he lead from the front. His shoulders hunched forward in a prowl that seemed uncharacteristic for a Space Marine. The flamer he carried was now mag locked at his side it’s fuel spent and Talial was glad. His combat knife and his fists were all he needed in a fight like this and they both gleamed murkily in the gloom of the tunnels dripping with the blood of his Ork prey.

    The rest of second squad had followed suit when their weapons had run dry, now they moved silently through the darkness. Not for the sake of stealth, that had been abandoned long ago, now they moved with a silent purpose. No liturgies or benedictions to the Emperor or Sanguinius, they came upon the foe and they slaughtered the foe, the company of each keeping the another from losing themselves to the Thirst. They traveled and killed like this for time unmeasured until at one point Brother Oberon broke the near silence.

       

         “Brothers do you hear that?”

 

   Asban called for a halt and they all listened under the dull roaring of the orks a new sound could be heard Asban leaned in close to the wall listening intently.

       

         “Water” exclaimed the squad sergeant after a few moments ‘We are close brothers’ and with a thought he willed the limited blueprints they had of the underground lair of the xenos. ‘Krak grenades this retaining wall’ said Asban as he pointed to the place he recently had his ear to.

  

  The squad did as ordered each retrieving the instruments from their belt pouches. Asban was the first to pull the pin of his and gently lob it underhand in the walls direction. The squad followed suit and briskly made their way back a few meters in the direction of their ingress. The grenades were designed to puncture armored targets on the field of battle, they made short work of the old masonry that had weakened from centuries of disrepair and erosion.

   The squad charged the wall, not waiting for the hole to become a fatal funnel they used their armor to crash through the rest of the way in groups of two rather than singly, piecemeal, into the chamber. They emerged on a walkway some several meters above the floor of a vast underground chamber.

       Flickering lumen strips lit the place with an eerie strobe like quality and the Orks of the chamber that had been busying themselves with what seemed the construction of a copper pole with a matching albeit poorly constructed copper ball at it’s tip. The pole was surrounded by smaller poles with similar poorly hammered sphere’s at their tip. Orange electricity jumped from the main pole to the smaller ones. At the epicenter of this stood the Ork Warboss for he could be no other.

   He stood with the characteristic Ork stoop but his stature was far larger than his alien cohorts A massive cudgel was held at its side from which sparks sputtered and fell freely to the cavern floor.

      The Warboss’ body was covered in heavy metal slabs that were grotesquely bolted directly into the Warboss’ skin and held together with wrapped crude fibre bundle cabling. At his side a smaller Ork gesticulated wildly its body was pierced extensively with what appeared to be various lengths of wiring. His body was similarly wrapped in the metal armor though his was held together entirely by the fibre bundling. The Warboss had turned from viewing the device before him when the Space Marines had blown their way through the wall. He had stood for some moments mouth agape at the prospect. Slowly the corners of its extended jaw drew up to form a devilish smile.

      The beast drew in a large breath and pointed with one tree trunk sized arm towards the Space Marines. What escaped his lips was entirely expected but no less fearsome the war cry of his species a resounding bellow that was amplified by the expansive underground chamber. Squad Sergeant Asban activated his vox link and noticed his transmission strength was boosted in this area, from the Ork machine he deduced silently as his eye’s flew across helmet lenses organizing what he needed then he spoke

        

         “Knight Seven this is Knight Two we have encountered our objective greenskin presence large-scale coordinates attached”.

 

      Asban quickly blink clicked his coordinates from the display his suits armor automatically attaching them to his transmission. He set it for auto cycle and turned to his brothers as the Orks of the cavern took up their leaders cry and began a loping charge to their position

       

        “Brothers let us answer this filth” said Asban and he turned from them to the corroded railing of the walkway and like a coiled snake bounded through the railing breaking it easily.

    

  The squad followed and as they crashed down amongst the quickly growing horde of aliens Asban began the ritual dirge like hum that the Angels Tenebrous were known to fight with. Asban unbuckled his large combat knife from its sheath on his thigh. The rest of second squad followed suit their own blades appearing in hands. The knives might have been standard issue Astartes pattern blades but they were the length of short swords in the hands of a normal man. They were also sharpened to monomolecular edges and in the hands of soldiers who trained with them daily.

        

          “Amongst the stars a weed is sown” Asban intoned.

 

         “Hateful breeds in the Emperors’ garden grown” responded the squad in unison and at this the orks crashed into them.

    The Space Marines cut and dodged, and when there wasn’t an escape they took hold of their enemies by the throats, arms, or wrists and they savaged them.

       

        “End their life with no pity shown” Led Asban again as the squad kicked and stabbed and punched their way to freedom only to deposit their combatant, torn to ribbons in the brackish water at their feet and find a new victim.

 

        “For naught the Emperors grace nor mercy but only disdain hath we ever known” answered the squad.

   

     Erziab and Oberon characteristically fought side by side, each switching duties between watching the others back and butchering any Ork who came too close. Talial had taken up position between Erziab and Asban he killed the overflow that couldn’t make it to Erziab and Oberon. While Asban fought like a dervish. He whirled and spun with speed and deadly grace one would not think possible in a being so massively armored. His swipes decapitated heads or dismembered Ork arms at the elbows or knee joints where they would fall to be trampled underfoot of the press and flow.

    None seemed able to lay a hand on the Sergeant. When breaks would open from Ork timidness Asban would laugh like a madman and wipe his blade upon the bottom of a commendation parchment. The parchment marked him a Veteran of the Algax wars, a long ago conflict against the xenos beasts, and its bottom half was sodden with Ork blood.

     Talial struggled with an Ork each fought to bring down their blade while stopping their opponents. The fibre bundle musculature of Talials power armor strained and hummed a deeper register than usual while veins on the Orks heavily muscled arms beat like a pulsating mass of ivy grown wild.

     Talial swept his right leg and managed to foul the Ork and he descended on him blade crashing down again and again into the aliens sternum. The splashes of gore painted Talials vision the emerald lenses splashed with the purplish ichor of the Ork and in his eyes as is dripped from the lenses it quite literally rained blood. He felt a heavy pressure to stay, to indulge the massacre of flesh. He denied himself but none the less it was there fighting him.

     Adding weight to his legs as he stood and braced himself for the next wave of enemies to barrel into him. He dismissed it as the blackness and steeled his mind to the task of staying a viable soldier in his squad who could be counted on to encourage his brothers to do the same. If one fell to the thirst, so many times all fell with him. Whether in joy or in regretful knowledge he would need it’s aid to survive the break down of orders a brother may have wrought.

     But Asban hadn’t allowed himself to succumb so second squad would not let itself succumb. Oberon and Erziab had jointly taken on an enlarged Ork surely a leader of one of their loose formations known as a Nob.

    Erziab distracted the gigantic Ork while Oberon plunged his knife into weak points that appeared it was like trying to bleed a bull grox with pins. The Nob grew outraged with every stab until finally it bellowed and grabbed Erziab by the chest and threw him into a crowd of gretchin that until this point had waited outside the lines of battle jabbering and hooting but always cowering. They descended on the fallen Space Marine their cheap blades and shivs of rebar and iron. Oberon leapt upon the Nobs back and began to stab it in the back of the neck looking to hack its spinal column in two. The Nob reached over its head and finding Oberon’s arm he threw him to the ground at his feet.

    Erziab had come to and was climbing to his feet plucking gretchin off himself and pulping them in his armored fists. While the Nob placed a foot on Oberon’s chest plate and reaching down took each of the Space Marines Arms in its wrists his began to pull. The Ork yanked his arms bulging and with a great sickly ripping sound tore Oberon’s arms free from their sockets.

    The Space Marine cried out in anguish and died under a tide of Ork boyz who descended on him with blade and cheap bolt pistol. The Nob looked over at Erziab with an evil grin his beady eyes burned with a malicious crimson hue. Erziab had watched this with eyes still fuzzy from concussion. But he lunged for the Nob quick as lightning he was upon the beast his right gauntlet flew out a pummeling hay maker punch that he followed with another with his left.

    Erziab enraged and seeing where the blood flew freely from a huge weeping gash on the Nobs neck he grabbed at the Nobs wrist with his right hand and yanked the beast off his balance and forming a claw with his left gauntlet plunged it into the Orks wound.

     Finding what he searched for Erziab began to pull and the Nob began to buck its great head to one side or the other. Erziab struggled but held fast and inch by inch drew out the Nobs damaged spine where Oberon had been hacking at and with a wet crack snapped it free. Erziab held the Nob head aloft and screaming his anger dashed it like a diseased fruit at his feet while the Nobs body cascaded down around him.

     Captain Uriah decsended into a scene of utter and absolute bloodshed. Second squad was surrounded by the bodies of their Ork adversaries their puprle black ichor flowed freely into the cracks of the old stones and joined the waste water in it's curious snakelike procession out of the chamber. Uriah knew there was no more time, honor was served the enemy had been slain in droves beneath the streets of the hive. Uriah removed a small but powerful homing beacon without breaking stride he activated it and let it fall at his feet as he strode onward towards second squad.

      

           "Sergeant Asban!" called Uriah "Quickly now you and your squad have brought us great honor it is time for others to earn some".

   

   Asban turned, his face unreadable behind those emerald lenses, he stood for a moment too long and then finally the spell was broke and he was moving

    

           "Second Squad! Form up, tactical withdrawal!"

 

    His squad imitated their leader, holding their stance for miliseconds too long it seemed to Uriah as if their senses were dulled. They overcame quickly enough and began a predatory gait that was unusual to the Blood Paladins under the cover of Uriah's honor guard.

 

   The meditation chamber aboard Invictus had been set aside by Epistolary Uzziel at the beginning of the battle. He had sat in the darkness adorned in his robes of office with nothing but his own breathing to listen to and the pungent odor of the herb cuttings from the Angels home planet to smell. All these hours and he was finally seeing, with his minds eye, through the broiling mass of jade energy that was the tell tale sign of heavy Ork presence. Atop that several hours into his trance and heavy teleportation began to distort his warp vision. His mind was presented with jarred images of the planets surface broken by a vermillion static. These impediments had been mostly conquered by Uzziel tarrying through them, weathering the etheric storm.

    He saw with better clarity the area on the surface he knew to be the Fifth company's objective. The LIbrarian had settled in long ago adopting an on one knee stance that only a being like himself could bear comfortably for hours on end. His head lowered, eyes closed, mind opened and when he finally saw what he had waited all this time for it pleased him and as he drew back into himself he raised his head with a smile. The homing beacon carried by Captain Uriah had been activated. Inside the fist sized sphere were powerful attenuated pyschic crystals that Uzziel had spent some time with so that their resonance wouldn't go unnoticed by him upon the time of activation. The crystals were only good for a one time use and their activation was not to be missed in this instance. Uriah quickly but preparedly went through the rituals necessary for a safe return to ones flesh self and then left the chamber activating the vox bead in his ear as his brisk strides brought him to his intended destination. 

       

            "Chapter Master Benedictus I have witnessed Captain Uriah's beacon I will need a few moments but the time is upon us"

 

            "This is well Uzziel, thank you please hurry our brothers are counting on you." came the immediate reply.  

  

   Uzziel swiftly made his way to the strategium of the Invictus it took him only a few minutes of attention to a holo-map and with the aid of his eidetic memory he was able to find the position of the beacon. He ran his hands through the projection its interactive pixels responding to the deft movement of his fingers as he highlighted the position, flagged the message as priority one and sent it to the captain of the Invictus. Captain Euripides was aboard the bridge when officer Durant again called from his station 

        

     "Sir Priority message from Epistolary Uzziel"

 

     Euripides came from the human stock of Tartosa the home planet of the Angels Sanctified. Though many didn't survive the trials to become a Space Marine there were still many among the human populace who wished a life free from the Hive. Those accepted made up the Angels Sanctified fleet and officers. The Chapter placed great trust in their serfs and it was rewarded in dutiful service.

          

     "On my personal display please Mister Durant" replied Euripides. 

   

   The message quickly chimed into existence on the small screen that hung from the ceiling of the bridge at eye level with the captains chair.

Euripides understood the message implicitly.

          

     "I want firing solutions for these coordinates, make it quick, make it correct" called the captain as he sent the coordinates to the tactical station.

   

   The bridge came alive, everyone was quick to help and quick to be seen helping. Euripides stood from his chair and straightening his crisp uniform took it all in especially the advancing chrono on his personal screen that had reacted to his movements and now stood slightly above his eyeline off to the side of the now dark main bridge screen. Two minutes thirty six seconds.

            

         'Not bad' thought the captain, 'could be better'

     Euripides snatched the vox horn attached to the railing near his chair. 

          

         "Officer Durant, get me the Chapter Master if you please".

    It was only a few moments before the Chapter Master was on the other end

        "Euripides this is Benedictus what do you have for me?" Said the Chapter Master of the Angels Tenebrous.

 

             "The location is found my lord, firing solutions are plotted I've taken the liberty to notify the Thunderhawks below of the situation they are broadcasting the withdrawal and your brothers report a timely exfiltration of the immediate blast area."

         

             "You and your crew perform exceptionally as usual my friend you have my liberty, begin orbital bombardment of the target area and begin preparation for drop pod assault"

 

             "Thank you my lord, executing your orders" replied Euripides.

     

       Hovering in orbit amidst a school of its cohorts the Invictus began its awesome barrage. Mighty crimson lances fired first, burning through the atmosphere like the spears of an unhappy deity, they burned through the superstructure of the hive leaving smouldering red hot coals of everything they touched. Next the macro cannons fired their payloads armed with high explosive warheads.

   These flew into the sea of smouldering ruin without warning the sonic boom of their entry catching up seconds later quickly lost in the deafening roar of the explosives. Thunderhawks and Stormraven gunships now again filled with Battle Brothers picked up from the various sewer exits below the hive. These gunships circled outside the blast zone and it was on one of these Thunderhawks that Captain Uriah and his squad had left the surface of the planet.

    The captain had ensured he and his were the last off the surface, second squad had boarded the same Thunderhawk moments before and now had taken up a mournful vigil in the cargo hold over their fallen brother. The remains of Brother Oberon were unpleasant and were respectfully covered. Only one of two of Brother Oberon's gene-seed survived, the implant in his neck had succumbed to the multiple stab wounds but the one hidden within his chest cavity looked to have survived the brutality of the Orks. Captain Uriah stood in the side doorway, his boots mag-locked to the cabin floor, he had witnessed both the lance strike and the macro cannon barrage and he knew what was coming next.

    He was compelled to witness, he knew that these precious moments were the last for brothers of his. Brothers who he had fought alongside for many years. He knew it was the fate of men like him but it stirred him none the less.

    These warriors deserved a witness. Even though he knew they were coming and he knew this was the way it had to be, the sight of the black drop pods breaking the cloud cover falling like individual specks of the void, burning with re-entry filled him with sadness. The pods fell and the moment drew out for what seemed minutes to Uriah. At last time resumed and the pods were activating their retro thrusters and disappearing into the dense columns of smoke that rose from the results of the orbital barrage strike.

     The drop pod shuddered violently as the retro thrusters were fired and Chaplain Ocran prepared himself. The Death Company had endured so much he thought to himself. He couldn't help but think himself a fatherly figure to these men every time he was tasked with leading a squad of them into battle. These were his sons for the short span of the rest of their lives it was his duty to make he directed them to honorable deaths. A duty no father could do without sorrow in his heart. The pod suddenly erupted into a violent crash. Ocran regained his senses quickly his trans-human body shrugging off the recent harsh crash landing of the pod.

     The pods locks disengaged and the seals fired with the report of contained gun shots. The doors of the pod flew open and Ocran lead his sons to their final battle. The Chaplain loosed the hide bound straps at his waist and the scrolls rolled down slowly the revealing the liturgies of hate. The Chaplain began the rites the words bellowing from his lips and emanating from the amplified speaker mounts in his breather grille. Ocran also had additional speakers installed at the roof of his suits back pack assuring his voice would rise above the din of battle.

      The words poured from his mouth from memory and his brothers were incited into a battle fervour that was palpable in the air. The orbital strike had done much damage and had created a rift in the roof of the Ork Warboss' chamber. It was hole that Chaplain Ocran lead the Death Company through. They descended into the chamber of the Warboss and were met by the survivors of the Chief Orks retinue. These brutes, a squad of Nobz ordered by Burzlag to protect him, wore heavy sheets of armor and carried massive axes they charged the Death Company but they were no match. They fell quickly and bloodily Battle Brothers cut with chainswords into flesh, they hacked off arms at the joints, the Nobz accounted for themselves well enough but their blows simply did not register to these brothers so lost to the Rage. Warboss Burzlag witnessing this shouted to his mechanical aid in their xenos gutterspeak.

      The engineer gesticulated wildly and set about turning dials and switches on his rudimentary apparatus board. The Warboss turned with a gleam in his eye and charged the Battle Brothers. He slew Brother Ur with an opening downward sweep of his massive warhammer.

     Ur's head popped like a fruit and he fell to his knees his torment over. Brother Heroditus thought to take advantage of Burzlag's moment of weakness and dove for an opening in the giant Orks armor. His chainsword found purchase but Heroditus did not live to realize he wasn't piercing a traitor marine on the palace walls of Holy Terra. Warboss Burzlag managed a backwards leap and then a swing from his hammer and Heroditus died, the hammer connecting with his chest its power field driving it deep past his power armor and into his chest cavity fortunately these Battle Brothers had their progenoids removed when they were still in stasis.

      The rest of the squad made to move in and continue the onslaught but Burzlag had turned and was yelling to his engineer as he loped toward the damaged but still functioning apparatus. It could only be an attempt at teleportation technology Ocran surmised to himself as he raised his bolt pistol, leveled it center mass with the Ork engineer and squeezed the trigger. The Mek Boy, as they were known to their kind, found himself staring down at the gaping hole in his chest his one hand probed it like one might delve into an engine but it was too late for the Mek Boy and he died with his other hand still resting on a non descript dail which slid out of position with the descending corpse of the Mek Boy.

      The Machine suddenly took on a rumbling Bass note, it shook, it caught fire, electric sparks shades of yellow and orange flew from the poles and their various mechanical additions. A void opened up like an upright mirror into insanity, a blackness that promised an eternity of nothingness. The Warboss stood dumbfounded and then his features took on a visage of extreme loathing for Ocran and his Death Company. He turned on his pursuers and began to defend himself. The battle brothers were too much for him, their rage and momentum overcoming him.

      Epistolary Uzziel had remained in the strategium of the Invictus to witness the end of this long drawn out campaign of liberation but his thoughts were troubled. He couldn't relieve himself of a deep foreboding that had settled in and he knew enough of his calling to know something was amiss. He felt like a specimen under a microscope. Like he was being lasciviously examined in the extreme, this had begun when he watched the Mek Boys death through the camera feed in Chaplain Ocran's helmet. Now as he watched the survivors of the Death Company battle the Warboss he felt like he wasn't the only one.

      The Battle Brothers were defeating in their own turn each inflicting their own wounds on the Warboss but their bodies no longer could keep up with the wounds inflicted no matter how much they were able to shrug off the pain of the blows. Chaplain Ocran had turned and began a slow march towards the Warboss his intent to finish him clear. The Chaplain began a personal favorite of his The Kohathian Hymnal penned long ago by a Battle Brother entreating the Emperor for the Grace and Protection recently seen in the Kohathian campaign. 

      It was as the Chaplains vision panned over the abyss that Uzziel's stomach's turned in his chest. There was something watching this fight, Uzziel had seen it with his psy-sight. It had coiled away from the mirrors edge and was lost now but Uzziel had seen it. Two serpentine eyes watched from the darkness. Uzziel instantly brought up the strongest wards and mental blocks he could think of and with his safety relatively assured he left himself and let himself drop like a bullet to the surface.

     Uzziel was there in moments his astral form hovering above the Chaplain but his attention entirely on the rift. Something was out there, something was taking immense pleasure in what it was seeing. The brutality of the Death Company unabashedly pleased it, It wanted more of that and it didn't care who knew, even if it had decided to hide itself in the inky blackness. Uzziel pressed with his second sight using as much willpower as was comfortable without lowering his wards to perceive it. 

 

          +Scared of letting your guard down?+

 

Mocked a voice inside Uzziel's mind its tones sibilant and utterly unlovely.

 

        "Make yourself known to me" demanded Uzziel "I am not the one hiding"

 

       +Your mind would not perceive one as I, I am beautiful beyond compare and horrifying beyond understanding+

 

         "Then you need not show your craven self I am aware of you, I name you daemon and I order you from this place, we do not fight and die for your entertainment foul thing"

 

        +Oh but you do+

 

      It was at that moment Chaplain Ocran had beaten the Warboss down to his knees and was liberally applying his Crozius Arcanum to the skull of the Ork Warboss. It was also at this moment that Uzziel finally witnessed a glimmer of what he sought. The eyes returned and as they reopened the image in the void drew away from them revealing the sinuous movements of what seemed a Cthonic monstrosity in the form of a serpentine horror barely glimpsed beneath the sable blackness.

 

         +Witness me Epistolary Uzziel of The Angels Sanctified know me as I know you. I am Ishtaraiel the Ravenous, favored son of Perdition to Slaanesh, Keeper of Secrets and High Mistress of the Corpus Brethren and I have decided that the fate of you and your brothers belongs to me+ 

 

    At this a gust of wind broke from the void hole, it was sweet, the sweetness of rotted fruit or oiled flesh. It was the scent of a purity of purpose long ago left to rot on the erractic tides of the warp. It buffeted Uzziel on putrid winds back to his body. Upon regaining his senses he surmised that he was lying prone on the deck of the strategium of the Invictus. Before even opening his eyes he recited all the mantras of protection he knew and checked and double checked his wards of safety. 

       

         "Epistolary are you back with us? What ails you Brother?"

    

     Uzziel finally opened his eyes to see Chapter Master Benedictus standing over him in full battle plate. The Chapter Master slowly released his grip on his power sword and tentatively offered his gauntleted hand to Uzziel and the Epistolary took it. When he finally righted himself he looked the Chapter Master in the eye.

      

       "A greater daemon of Slaanesh Lord, it has claimed the fate of the Angels Sanctified to be determined by himself." answered Uzziel

    

    Benedictus' eyes narrowed to slits and his jaw locked "Elaborate Brother Librarian, are we not in the middle of a great victory against the xenos?"

 

       "We are indeed my Lord but the Orks attempt at teleportation technology seems to have created a warp anomaly within the former sewers. Whether it drew the deamons attention or whether it has been watching for some time and the anomaly merely allowed me to perceive it through its powerful warp magicks I know not Lord but the fact remains it has named us adversary" Epistolary Uzziel replied. Benedictus snatched up the vox horn and keyed the tab for the bridge.

     

       "Officer Durant"  said the Chapter Master softly through nearly clenched teeth "Contact Captain Uriah, inform him an expeditious removal of assets and arms is expected within the hour, then inform Reclusiarch Rigaud and Sanguinary High Priest Baniel the victory sacrement is postponed until we have convened in the Strategium"

 

   Durant had replied in the affirmative but Benedictus had already replaced the vox horn and his gaze, usually bright and methodical, was smouldering the lines of his brow furrowed and his eyes like slits that the Grey Blue of his irises shown out. The Chapter Masters face became grim and set and his body tensed like he was preparing for a strike.

     

      "I would become used to this room for a time Epistolary, when the others get here you will tell us everything. In detail. And we shall scrutinize your vision and learn what can be garnered from it."

[Olis]

You're going to have to break this story up into spaced paragraphs, brother. As a a wall of text it is quite difficult to maintain concentration. Also, the dialogue needs to be separated out from the main text, as it further compounds the wall of text problem.

[BruvaTrav]

Yeah I'm writing double spaced on my Word then putting up here so it's tough, been trying to focus more on keeping it going then making revisions later thanks for the input. Could you elaborate as to what you mean about the dialogue? Looking to improve in any way.

[Olis]

Could you elaborate as to what you mean about the dialogue? Looking to improve in any way.

 

Sure. I'll give an example of what I've written in the past.

 

 

Brutal close quarters melee boiled along the walkways and the habs of Ultorosk Hive, figures plunging hundreds of metres as they were forced over the railings. In the Governor's residence, traitor legionnaires checked the loyalist assault, step for step. Plush decor, burnt and damaged from days of combat lay where it fell, alongside the dead astartes sporadically marking places that had seen killing. 

 

Knocking down his opponent, Cerrac plunged his combat blade into the damaged armour of the traitor. Lodged deep, the weapon refused to move as Cerrac pulled the handle. Fellow sons of Perturabo fought desperately to overcome their hardy foe, losing marines for every step forward they took. For every traitor that was dragged down, three of his killers died in response.

 

"You cannot kill us." Rasped the Fist with his blade in it's chest. Sharply pulling the Iron Warrior over onto his back, the Fist loomed over him and held his collar fast.

 

"We are dead already." Whispered another through dry lips. Cerrac only had a moment to register the battered and rusted bolt pistol before he died, his corpse among many, marking yet another fight in the marble halls.

 

Note that I've started each piece of dialogue (spoken by a different character) as a separate entity to the main text - it makes for far easier reading than having the dialogue embedded within a paragraph of main text. :)

[BruvaTrav]

Good idea thanks! :) be sure to keep checking in if you like what you saw, Nice work also the Iron Warriors are my fave traitor legion because of "Angel Exterminatus" by Graham McNeill

[BruvaTrav]

New Content bump.

[Blissful Brushes]

The story itself is good, it has a nice fast pace. The dialogue breaks up the bolter porn (if I’m not allowed to describe it as such, sorry to the Mods) nicely without seeming too forced or clunky. The only issue with the story to me is the grammar. It’s not awful, don’t get me wrong, it just needs tightening up a little bit:

• Punctuation before speech marks if it’s embedded in a sentence.
  
• Some comma placement in some of the dialogue and action-oriented sentences would add emphasis to certain parts. For example:
  
• ‘his Honor Guard were holding themselves well their movements economic and precise.’ Perhaps, ‘his Honor Guard were holding themselves well, their movements economic and precise.’
  
• ‘We’ began the Reclusiarch ‘are granted… Instead should be: ‘We,’ began the Reclusiarch, ‘are granted…
  
• That, and putting apostrophes in ‘its’ when it’s possessive. the apostrophe should only be used as a contraction for ‘it is’.
  

I hope I didn’t sound too harsh!! The story itself is very good in my opinion, it’s just that a bit of tightening up on the grammar and sentence structuring could make it a truly excellent piece.

[BruvaTrav]

No please constructive criticism is always welcome. I'll be the first to admit my grammar is awful, it takes me several proof readings to get here (online) and obviously it still needs work. But thanks I'll try to keep your advice in mind. New content bump as well.

[BruvaTrav]

New content bump sorry for the wait. It's been awhile enjoy!

[Welcheren]

Sorry for posting a little early (I am only half-way through Chapter 2). So far, it really is very good. The action sets a good pace, I really like the names and the dialogue helps to build the atmosphere. The chapter is tragically beautiful for the flaw of their gene-seed. The pall of their inevitable end makes their zeal all the more heroic.

 

 

I look forward to reading the rest, as soon as I have time.

 

Thanks.

[deathspectersgt7]

A good read but you should break it down. Smaller paragraphs would be nice.

[Welcheren]

<p>Finished. I enjoyed it very much. The superhuman tactical expertise and efficiency, coupled with piety, and high diction, is exactly what I love most about Astartes stories. The flaw of the characters' lineage is dealt with very well.</p>

[BruvaTrav]

Chapter 2

          Zagreus Apostate of the Promiscuous Truth was once a Codicier of the Sentinels Space Marine Chapter. His chapter had been deemed unworthy in a time in the Imperium that was now considered a very long time ago. The Sentinels Chapter, along with many others, had been sent on a penitent crusade, a crusade into the Eye of Terror itself. They had been deemed unworthy by a man who was in actuality an agent of the ruinous powers, the scant survivors still loyal to the Throne returned after many centuries had passed and their revenge was swift upon this agent of Chaos. His end was bloody and his remains had been launched into a star long after he had died and condemned many a good man to an unworthy death.

     Zagreus scowled to himself at that thought and spit the gobbit of bone meal he had been gnawing on, he reached down into the remains of the mutant serf that he had mutilated moments before on the floor of his isolated chambers. Poking his enlarged gen-hanced fingers around in the man's, if it had been a man, spilled innards none of which seemed particularly appetizing at the moment.
    The former Librarian had been hungry, but in a bored listliss sort of way. He had called his personal serf into his personal chambers and casually brutalized the once man thing. Zagreus told himself he needed to spill the man's guts because it had been a month since his last ritual of haruspex. The remains of the serf had fallen listless, no message, no secret to be imparted that might set the mind ablaze.
    Zagreus' bitterness made the hunger in his stomachs reviled, he rose from the serf and turned from it in disgust. There was suddenly a change in the Sorcerer's chambers the temperature rose, an unnatural mist rose from the chamber floor, the atmosphere became wet and perfumed and where the mist touched it left droplets of condensation.
    All of this preceded a very distinct feeling of a pressure suddenly imposed upon inside the Sorcerer's skull as if the meat jelly of his mind was being compressed by an obese corpse falling upon it while simultaneously the borders of his skull expanded the length and breadth of the galaxy. These sensations had both become comforting to Zagreus. Over time.

                     "Speak Mistress I would hear your will" said Zagreus to the room, his eyes closed"

                    +Beautiful Son, I am joyed beyond measure+

                    "Your joy is our salvation Mistress, how may I please one such as you"
and as he finished speaking his stomachs growled softly in his abdomen.

                   +Always so quick to grovel, honestly Zagreus how you have come to the fore of your little band I know not, your mouth seems to work more than your muscles+

                   "I rose because you chose me Mistress, if you look for culpability in your new found displeasure I suggest you look no further"

                  +Inform me when your sanity has returned, who was it that aided you to this ship? Who was it that allowed you escape from the Eye, I placed you Zagreus, I can replace you with another more appreciating+

     At this the mist began to snake and writhe, looking first like a sapling, worrying it's way towards Zagreus. Then it grew and began a tree, the tree took on sensuous twists. It became like the ancient legend of the Driad Brother Zagreus had spent so many hours painstakingly cataloging for the collected knowledge of the Imperium. The mist solidified and the Driad turned it's nubile and curvaceous form upon Zagreus.

                     "Come now child let's not fight" spoke the creature benignly as it reached for Zagreus but he turned away from it in disgust.

                      "Do not take that form" said the Sorcerer.

                      "But you so liked this creature once, I remember it specifically"

                     "You remember nothing, those are a dead man's memories"

   The Driad whose face was a scene of placid adoration turned to utter maliciousness.


                     "Do not turn from me Zagreus whom I took and remade in my likeness, turn and kneel and hear my commands"

Zagreus did as commanded the pressure in his skull increasing while the mind expanding consciousness shrunk unmercifully.

                     "Some fresh offense has been given by some cousins of yours. They are still loyal to the corpse upon the throne. Their transgression is unimportant their fates however have been claimed by such as myself."

                     "What would you have me do, beautiful and terrible Mistress?" asked the Sorcerer nonplussed.

                     "I would have them for myself, new playthings for your brothers, they are sons of the Angel Sanguinius and go by the epitaph of The Angels Sanctified, I would have them compliment your hunger with their Thirst"

                    "What do you mean by such as that?" asked Zagreus

                     "I see no need to explain myself further you have heard my commandments go now they gather their strength in the Tempestus Segmentum in preparation for my amusment"

                    "Your whims are our fantasies Mistress" replied Zagreus in monotone.

                    "See that you do not forget it" said the Driad.

She stood for some moments and finally caressed Zagreus cheek

    

                    "Eat well child".

     With that the Driad exploded, like a tree put under the immense pressure of a hurricane wind the Driad's form cracked and blew apart with a mighty gale force that nearly knocked Zagreus on his side. The etheric winds stirred the chamber and Zagreus' gen-hanced olfactory nerves picked up the scent of the dead mutant serf. Plunging his fist into the remains of the mutant and retrieving a mass of gore from its once chest, greedily the Sorcerer began to slurp up the remains and champ upon the chewier bits.

     He knew from the first bite he was going to have to go out and find more. Ishtaraiel had stirred a fire in his belly and his body cried out for something a little closer to the human genome. The Sorcerer raised his head with a lunatic grin spread wide across his features as he cast his mind out into his ship, searching for the right meal. There, in the aft port quarter slave decks, a teenage girl cried to herself in the darkness hiding from the monsters who called this ship home. Ishtaraiel ran his tongue over his blood stained teeth and set out after a fresher snack.

     Second squad had stayed with Brother Oberon's remains until Sanguinary Priest Imlohai had arrived to take their Brother to the Apothecarion and perform the final rites of gene-seed extraction and the other more clandestine rites to be observed by the Sanguinary Priests only. The purging ceremony, where Space Marines and their armor were cleansed after battle, usually pregnant with the joy of an impending feast among brothers was seemingly lacking to Talial.

     He was dressed in the duty fatigues of his order which were the simple planetary defense force uniforms of the Tortosian militia, specially crafted for their enhanced Astartes frame. They were sand colored with streaks of darker earth tones to break up the image of the wearer when crossing the planets massive rad soaked deserts.
     The boots were a matching sand color and made of durable grox leather while the service jacket simply bore a device of the Chapter where other personal identifiers would lay for the militia. When he saw his Brothers next they were assembled in the second squads weapons room. They were attired the same as Talial, Sergeant Asban stood eying the squads special weapons rack, as if deciding between the Plasma Rifle or the Meltagun.
     Erziab knelt some feet away in the process of cleaning his bolter, Oberon's bolter lay neatly upon a cleaning cloth next to Erziab's disassembled bolt gun. Asban looked up from what he was doing when Talial entered, Asban's eyes were shadowed but they lit with gladness to see Talial. The Sergeant held out his hand for Talial and he took it grasping wrists in the fashion of many warrior cultures.

                    "How fares your wargear Tal?" asked the Squad Sergeant.

                    "Repairs to the fibre bundle musculature of my swinging arm will need extensive repair, it would seem Ork's protest most violently to a combat blade in the belly"

       Talial replied as he caricatured a heavy sawing motion with his right arm. He wore a smile which he hoped disarmed the seriousness with which Asban had applied the informal affectation to his name. Asban smiled, so Talial assumed it had worked and they both turned their gaze to Erziab who still knelt with his back to them.

                     "Oberon's bolter will need cleaning before it is returned to the rack" said Erziab to the air as if aware of his brothers attention.

                    "Quite right brother, I was wondering if you might honor Oberon, Talial? I have to report to the Strategium for a debriefing" said Sergeant Asban

                    "Aye Sergeant I can, perhaps you can inquire as to why the victory sacrament has been postponed?" responded Talial with a query of his own.

                    "I will attempt to try just that, I have made such inquires of my peers in the other squads, the consensus seems to be it is a detail pertaining to Chaplain Ocran's fight with the Warboss that is as of yet unclear"

     Asban answered and made to turn towards the door halting to let his gaze linger upon Erziab. He said nothing though and turned making his way away from the squad locker room into the greater company weapons hall and out its bulkhead.

     Talial studied Erziab for a few moments before he snatched up a small stool from the corner of the room and placing it underneath himself began to rearrange Oberon's weapon so that it was now perpendicular to Erziab and his place. Erziab didn't look up but he did eye Talial when he made to move the weapon but said nothing.
     Talial picked the weapon up deftly clearing it and reciting the proper litany to its machine spirit under his breath. Then relaxing, letting his elbows rest on his knees he began to disassemble Oberon's bolter. The weapon fired self propelled .75 caliber bolts, missiles that could be fired under almost any circumstance, penetrate their target and explode causing maximum trauma. To the Astartes they were holy symbols of the Emperor's wrath and each considered a relic of worth.
     All this though and the weapon still required routine maintenance and cleaning. Chapter serf's were available to do just this for the battle brothers if they wished it but second squad never let anyone touch their weapons but themselves. It had always been so, it would always be so, a tradition passed from Sergeant to Sergeant. A tradition that eventually became unremembered in its origins but nonetheless was obeyed. Talial waited until half way through the disassembling and cleaning of the weapon before he decided to speak up.

                    "Oberon will be remembered brother and he will live on in Angels yet unborn."

                    "Spare me the rhetoric Brother when you can keep from befouling yourself with xenos blood, you may be closer to one day being able to lecture me. Now is a time for mourning it is only right and proper"

                   "Duty is upon us, Brother, there are rumors from the crew about what happened on the bridge. Daemons they say, chaos they whisper. Something to do with Epistolary Uzziel having a vision" said Talial his eye's narrowing at the slight.

                    "You would have me listen to barracks gossip to salve my wounds?" said Erziab looking up from heavy brows but not lifting his head.

                    "For a senior Battle Brother..."

      Erziab exploded up from his kneel while Talial quickly stood, the stool which he sat upon fell back with a crash but it went ignored as Erziab's face was inches from Talial's in moments, the senior Space Marines jaw was locked and his Lyman's ears began to flush crimson despite being trans-human.

                    "You are beyond your depth Brother watch your next words carefully" said Erziab through clenched teeth.

                    "Comport yourselves Brothers!" came a thunderous third voice from the hallway.


      Sanguinary Priest Imlohai stepped in the door way of the squad locker room his displeasure plain upon his craggy aged face. The aged Apothecary while not truly old and frail beneath his armor did not have the blessing of Sanguinius' visage. The Priest's hair hung like grey ropes from his head and it made quiet susurrations against his armor as he turned his head from either Battle Brother. As if Imlohai was trying to decide whom was the guiltier.

                     "I came to give council to a grieving squad, to inform them the rites are complete and of the successful removal of Oberon's remaining gene-seed." With this the Priest paused "I see that my council is not required and that Oberon's brothers do not care at all for his memory."

                    "Apologies Sanguinary Priest" said Talial and Erziab one after the other

Imlohai said nothing for a moment and then his features softened into a paternal smile

                   "If we do not have each other Brothers we have nothing, remain strong, resist the Thirst, the Sacrament has been scheduled for eighteen hundred hours Terran standard" The Sanguinary Priest said as he turned to leave.

     With that the Battle Brothers shook hands in the warrior fashion as before and returned to their duties, both focused on their work and both tried not to let their minds wander too far at the promise of the slaking of the Thirst at the sacrament.


     Epistolary Uzziel had taken advantage of the time left to him before the sacrament to rest. His mind closed to the warp as his mind shut it self off piece by piece for Uzziel's benefit. Uzziel's consciousness rose like a bubble in an ocean until he opened his eye's and began the opening mantra's of praise to the Primarch for his beneficence.
     With Uzziel satisfied he erected wards of protection and safekeeping and opened his mind to the sea of souls once again. What he saw didn't please him, his brothers were agitated, their minds buzzed with the discomfort of the delayed victory sacrament. The human crew was apprehensive and their thoughts fluttered from fear of their Astartes overseers and fear of the unknown.
      Uzziel wished that the Chapter's Chief Librarian was present, but Brother Aziriah had left on a clandestine mission many months prior to this campaign. Uzziel was ranking Epistolary and had been named to act in Aziriah's absence the burden was showing itself in true force after the hours long and grueling debriefing from the Chapter Master,Reclusiarch and Sanguinary High Priest. Each their own thoughts and questions on the subject of Uzziel's encounter.
       Benedictus was livid, and his questions reflected his boisterous warrior's denial of the daemon's claim to his chapter and pertained mostly to what Uzziel had witnessed. Reclusiarch Rigaud was the frightening bastard he always was, his unfinshed sentences and queries lying verbal lengths of rope with which Uzziel was meant to hang himself with, all the while smiling that unflattering smile of his.
       Sanguinary High Priest Baniel, ever the scientist, questioned how Uzziel was 'monitoring' his Thirst and the Priest's questions when answered only seemed to lead to more questions the line of reasoning bearing closer and closer to the Rage. Uzziel quickly felt like a specimen under a microscope but he weathered the attention of his elders with stoic resolve.
       His thoughts returning to the present Uzziel stood and released the bulkhead to his cell and made his way into the halls of the ship. These were the living quarters and Uzziel passed many open cells where Battle Brothers stood in loose knots discussing the days events. Each group he passed silenced their jovial banter as Uzziel passed. Some returned Uzziel's looks with a respectful nod but most just cast their eyes to the floor. There were blessed few stares of open animosity today.


              "Perhaps they know I bring them them war with the arch enemy so they tolerate me for now" thought Uzziel cynically to himself.


     As he passed through the various levels of the ship towards the main chapel in the craft's innermost guts his mind returned to the Deamon's words. Uzziel had little time to think on them himself before having to repeat them verbatim to his superiors. He had determined that he would
scour the Chapter's fleet based Librarius when the victory sacrament had been concluded for any information long before Chapter Master Benedictus gave him the order to do so at the end of the debriefing.

      Uzziel emerged from his darkened and small hallway into a greater concourse within the ship. It was dimly lit here as well but the photon candles that burned on the walls were more numerous here and their light burned from behind red tinted glass. This caused the walk way to seem to ebb and flow like blood pumping through a major artery.
       Battle Brothers emerged from similar alcoves and joined the rising procession. Uzziel let himself become one with the tide of Battle Brothers who made their way to chapel of the Invictus. Uzziel was quickly ushered in through the heavy wrought doors past the chanting helots the minds and mouths of which could only offer a dirge like praise to the Emperor and Primarch.
He took his position in the gallery above the main floor. From here he would watch for signs of corruption and be the last to take part in the ritual after the other brothers had left. Such was his burden for being gifted with the witch sight.

     The Chapel held enough room for the entire chapter the central podium stood at the rear while three rows of pews each at forty five degree angles from the podium so that the altar resembled more a stage. The massive cathedral in the round was filled with all six of the of the Chapters Battle Company's or Host's.
      The fourth company was home on Tortosa guarding the Fortress Monastery and training the newest recruits. That duty rotated between all seven Hosts of Angels Sanctified with the exception of first Host and its captain the Chapter Master such was the burden of duty. The Angels Sanctified respect Guilliman and his Codex Astartes, it being required reading for all novitiates, but they do not let it change their Chapter as their first Master Tristian had envisioned it. Reclusiarch Rigaud took the podium after the hall had fully assembled and the murmurs and chatter died down as the high Chaplain grasped the edges of the lectern. Rigaud's smile was that of an patriarch addressing his childer but his eye's were napped flint.


                "My Brothers, we gather this eve to mourn the loss of our dead and celebrate a victory hard won. We the sons of Sanguinius have a duality to our nature, we are light and dark, it is only fitting our victory reflects this nature."

     The aged Chaplain began anew after pausing a moment to give an approving nod to the dirge chant taken up by the Astartes in attendance.

                 "These are dark times my brothers, strength and wisdom these are qualities we cannot afford to lose. With each loss suffered our Chapter's light grows dimmer it is true my brothers there is no denying our light may very well fade from this galaxy and by chance make
it's way into the halls of remembrance.
                  And yet there is hope my friends take up the grail, take up arms against the darkness honor the sacrifice of our fallen ones, honor their strength and let not our light be one that is doomed to fade into darkness but burn on with a mighty flame turn away the curse, deny it another day my brothers. Live and serve and await next your reward for honorable service"


      Rigaud paused again to breathe deep and as he did the chant intensified some Battle Brothers losing themselves in the excitement babbling in tongues. It was then that the Reclusiarch began the "Benedicto Patris" and the Sanguinary Priest's took to the aisles from their position's in the back of the cathedral.
     Each carried a grail, wrought from gold and and blessed by the Priests in rites of war, and in each grail was the mixed blood of the Sanguinary Priest's, the Battle Brothers who had given their lives and a donor percentage from the human crew. The Sanguinary Priest's passed the goblets down the aisles and the brothers each drunk deep. When a goblet was drained it was returned to the Priest to be filled from a reservoir carried by servitor units.


               "Blood is life, life is duty, duty is sacrifice, sacrifice is blood"

      Rigaud intoned the motto of the Chapter and drained the grail offered him.This concluded the formal ceremony.


      Uzziel had watched the proceedings from his position above, with his psychic sight he watched the ebb and flow of the warp around his brothers, watched as crimson ribbons of avid desire flowed from their mouths and eye's and wrapped themselves about his brothers. The black void within his brothers, like a shadow in a harsh light, dimmed away in the ruddy light of the red. He knew these symbols for what they were, every son of Sanguinius knew their portents.
      The Epistolary made his way down the recessed flight of stairs into the main cathedral again. He loitered with his peers, fellow Codiciers and Lexicanium. He listened to them discuss the sacrament as they awaited their turn but his mind was elsewhere. His brothers finished as the grails were made ready for the Librarius, Uzziel was ranking in command so he was to be last a burden usually borne by the Chief Librarian. He watched his peers drink and when finally the cup came to him he took it closed his eye's and drunk
deep.
      The blood touched his lips and it seemed to his other worldly senses as if a rod of heated iron had been placed there. Uzziel would have cried out but his mind's eye was filled with the inky void of the Rage and reptilian eyes. Two smouldering brimstone orbs hovered in the blackness and it seemed as if the void itself came streaming like rivulets of promethium fuel from the un-light of those jet black iris'.

     Then it was over. Uzziel was standing amongst his peers the goblet drained of blood and in his hands and as he looked to his compatriots
his psychic sight fading into the sight of his real eyes he saw the void in the center of all his brothers and two reptilian eyes winked shut.


          Battle Brother Talial had fed himself sparingly at the feast, there were thoughts that troubled him and he wished to confront them in the training cages aboard their Host's Strike Cruiser the Carillon. He could not help but notice the rapacity with which some of his brothers fed themselves.
    An Astartes appetite was legendary but the way some of his brothers were losing themselves. Erziab who sat next to Talial was one such brother, Talial watched Erziab devour a large cut of grox steak, the juice of which was dribbling freeling down his chin.

         "The night fire exercise has not been cancelled because of victory brother perhaps you might be better served if you ceased eating." said Talial

          "We have won a great victory today brother, I may indulge myself if I choose to" replied Erziab with a smile that only perturbed Talial.

         "I see others partake such as myself maybe you should give them a piece of your wisdom brother"

 

    Erziab concluded when he saw Talial had not withdrawn his sentiment.

         "I do not wish to revisit our disagreement brother, I will leave you to your reward and see you next on the training deck, I hear it is another zero gravity exercise."

 

    replied Talial briskly and with that he made his way to leave.

         The last of the Thunderhawk's had already departed the Invictus and returned the bulk of the Chapters fighting force back to their respective ships after the victory sacrament but Chapter Master Benedictus had chosen to stay in the Observatorium and star gaze. He was inwardly relieved while he knew the sacrament called for the assemblage of his brothers he liked that his chapter was back to where it was supposed to be.
     He couldn't define this premonition, he felt it before, being blessed with a measure of the Primarch's foresight but he knew it like a fighter's instinct, like a warning sense that lead to a saving parry. What he felt now, was a fierce desire to keep his guard raised the arch enemy is insidious and Benedictus did not like their way of warfare, he was capable of fighting it effectively and aggressively but he did not respect it.The Neverborn made sport of innocent life and killed indiscriminately, the feeble, the weak, the young, the sick these were not concepts they respected.
     They existed to slake their fiendish appetites and enslave human minds and bodies and for this Benedictus despised them. It was upon these thoughts that Chapter Master Benedictus of the Angels Sanctified and Captain of the First Host keyed the vox bead in his ear.

           "Bridge this is Benedictus"

            "Bridge aye" crackled the bead in Benedictus' ear.

           "Make preparations for warp jump, have the chief Navigator and Astropath meet me in the strategium I want exit vectors within the hour Durant"    

    There was a brief pause as Benedictus turned from the view of the planet Brackenhold where their crusade against Waagh Burzlag had ended and began to make his way down the spiral stairs.
 
            "What destination should I tell the Navigators to plot for My Lord" Durant asked

             "Home, Durant, The Angels Sanctified are going home" answered Benedictus.


       Benedictus swiftly made his way to the strategium where upon entry he was greeted by Chief Astropath Krillian. The astropath was a dessicated ruin of a man kept alive by rejuvenate treatments his sightless eyes were covered by the hood of his cloak of office. He stood leaning his frail frame on a cane made of an unidentifiable metal that was blacker than pitch.

             "Greetings Chapter Master I was in the vicinity of the bridge and so was able to come directly here, the Navigator I assume was not as circumstantially fortunate as I"

             "Nothing is circumstance in the Emperor's galaxy Chief Astropath" said the Chapter Master with a hint of a smile. The two were old friends their working relationship dating back many years.

             "Blindness does not come without a sense of sarcasm friend" answered the aged Astropath with his own smile his slightly yellowed false teeth catching Benedictus' eye"
 
             "Taking care of yourself old man?" Asked Benedictus

             "Nor do I suffer from an inability to witness your swine fist attempt at mothering me" snipped back Krillian

    Benedictus respected the man enough not to really say more for fear of hurting his feelings, he had learned centuries ago a form of empathy when dealing with humans. Benedictus was fascinated with human social circles, he did not wish to be like them. Benedictus being the man he was though was not going to spend the centuries possibly millennia of his life without observing them. This had served him well in dealing with his Chapter.
    He was spared when the Strategium door slid open and the Chief Navigator entered, she on the other hand was a very different case from the Chief Astropath. Amara Eon was the Chief Navigator of the Angels Sanctified fleet and she wore that authority in her stance and the way she held herself.

    She was tall, spare and beautiful with deep brunette hair and sea green eyes. Her rejuvenate treatments were costly and far more effective than Krillian's and while her age was indeterminate her eyes said she was wise and strong. The Blood Paladins had been blessed with the services of the Navigators of house Eon since their inception in the shadows of the Age of Redemption. The House of Eon had provided Navigators to the Angels Sanctified faithfully since that agreement struck long long ago and they had prospered for it.

    The woman's presence swept into the room like a tidal wave, the train of her elegant robes trailing her like a wake, her third eye was wrapped behind a swath of fashionable ribbons that were worked into her hair.

                "My Lord it is my understanding you wish the fleet returned to its home world, preliminary observances by my family have found this is possible and we of Eon stand ready for translation."

 

    She said all this still while mid stride and when she reached the center of the room she finished her statement with a crisp but shallow bow and the sign of the Aquila made by her hands across her chest.

              "Greetings Mistress Eon you are radiant as ever" said Krillian a wry smile cutting across his wrinkled face.

              "Chief Astropath" said Amara with the slightest nod, her expression one of disparaging confusion for the briefest of seconds. She was quickly reminded there were other ways to see the galaxy when she was reminded of the scarves on her brow.

              "This is well Mistress, I will send the preliminary readouts of the finer details to your adjutants at the Navigator's chamber when we are close to warp translation it is only a matter of retracing our entry coordinates upon entry of the system." Said Benedictus sensing the woman's desire to be about her business.

               "Well Honored Master if that is all" she said trailing off.

               "You have your leave Mistress thank you for your family's service it is preeminent as always" said Benedictus

               "A century of thanks My Lord" said Amara stiffly and then she began to turn to go when Krillian piped up.

               "I would accompany you Mistress if you would have it" said Krillian a note of mischief in his reedy voice.

  She turned to face them with a charmed smile upon her face "I would enjoy that Master Astropath"

               "Indeed you would, I could tell you of the time that pup over there and I repelled xenos pirates that thought they could raid the ship during the Sylare campaign" said Krillian as he quickly scuttled on his cane to match strides with the willowy Amara Eon.

  Benedictus smiled and shook his head at the old man his attention returning to the stream of data projected before him. He settled his uneasy mind with the fleets preparation for mass transit.

        Talial had been striving to defeat his inner doubts as well in the training cages aboard the Carillon. He fought stripped of his fatigues save his pants in the cage and was trying to ignore the wounds his squad had endured as of late. The loss of Oberon had truly affected Erziab in a detrimental way.
   The squad took part in the evening exercise and while they achieved their objectives Erziab fought like he was missing a limb. His timing was radically slower in milliseconds, he cleared corners and fire zones slower than he should and it was more than just the added duty of a missing brother it was as if Erziab was denying Oberon wasn't there to pick up his slack.
    It was upon this thought Talial dispatched his fifth training servitor with a neat forward slash the cage helots moved in retrieving the husk to be repaired. Talial stepped through the cage's frame of a door and wiped the sweat from his brow with the towel he had hung on the weapons rack.

   The hatch to the training cages cell opened and Chaplain Ocran entered stripped of his armor as well he wore a similar specially modified PDF uniform to Talial's but Ocran's was the dark hue of a Tortosian Morale officer.

               "Greetings Chaplain" said Talial with a guarded grin

               "Greetings Brother" said Ocran his gaze unflinching from Talial "Elijah Talial Fifth Host, Second Squad am I not correct?"
 
                "You are correct Brother Chaplain Ocran, come to work out your sword arm after your recent victory?"

  The Chaplain smiled at the floor and then returned his piercing gaze at Talial.

 

               "In a sense yes, your dedication does you credit Brother or perhaps you are here as I am to settle your mind"

               "You see much Chaplain can you see a resolution to the problem I seek" asked Talial

               "Let me hear your woe Brother and let the Emperor's will be done" replied Ocran

               "My squad has recently lost a brother and the loss has affected another of our number strongly, strong enough to affect squad performance even" said Talial looking down at the training cage floor

               "I see, you worry your Brother's character will be comprised and his resolve in the Emperor will weaken, this is indeed a valid concern my friend, my advice is to be there for your Brother, try to help bear his burden and strive to be what the Emperor and the Primarch, blessed be his sacrifice, wanted of you my Brother."

     The Chaplain's eyes became far away and and his gaze wandered to the buikhead.

 

               "We are the Emperor's chosen soldiers Brother Talial we carry a great burden and there is much we must do to live up to that expectation, we have only the guidance of our fore fathers and ourselves to keep watch over ourselves Brother"

                "Your council is appreciated Chaplain I will endeavor to live by the words of the Primarch and Emperor" said Talial and he bowed his head to the Chaplain making the sign of the Aquila and with that Talial gathered his things and left the training cages.

 

    When Talial left the training cages his step was lighter and his eye's bored dead ahead as he walked renewed and refreshed in spirit and purpose. Ocran did not think it appropriate to discuss his own doubts with a Battle Brother so he stayed and strove with his inner doubts and the mechanism's of the cage and when he was done. The Chaplain left the training cages with his mind made up to take his own advice and reach out to a Brother he had not seen in a long while.

     Across the stars and in the void of the warp a vessel knifed the unreality. It's lines warped and changed to reflect its new masters whims. Formerly in service to the Imperial Navy the Mastigos was a Defiant Light Cruiser and had served honorably until Zagreus and his warband had found it. Zagreus' Thunderhawk squadron had been caught in a broadside between the Imperial lines and the guns of their own fleet. The latter were crewed by an uncaring slave force who fired to please their masters and avoid the whip.
     Zagreus' squadron had been badly damaged and far off course yet in an instant of clarity Zagreus was shown which ship to guide his quickly falling squadron to. Zagreus ordered the damaged ships on a crash course for the Mastigos he and those who followed him abandoned their Thunderhawks, leapt for the Mastigos and engaged the mag locks on their boots. Those who aimed themselves well rallied with Zagreus and were able to board the vessel, dispatch the its defenders and execute the senior staff.

    Those left fell in line and Zagreus and his forces, those who didn't were summarily eaten, separated from their fleet and the greater Corpus Brethren command Zagreus' small band managed to slip away in the confusion and into the warp to lick their wounds and wait.
    Now the wait was over, now the divine mandate was here Zagreus was commanded by his master and by her words he would remake the galaxy in his image starting with the Blood Paladins. He knew he had no where near the forces to topple a Space Marine Chapter in good standing, not in a fair fight anyway.
    The first thing Zagreus had commanded was that they plot a course for the nearest Imperial shipping lane, when this was accomplished they lay in wait under the cover of an ion storm. Immediately upon the right prey dancing across Zagreus' psychic senses they descended from the storm and crippled the vessel with the Mastigos' lances.
     Zagreus and his men left the Mastigos in one of its twin attack craft and boarded the shipping vessel, an Imperial civilian mining craft, and after he and his warriors finished eating the crew they downloaded what information available on the Amerikon Sector the lighter had to offer they set it on a locked course for the nearest star and departed the way they came.
     The Sorcerer now crouched in the small bridge of the Mastigos, the genhanced frame of he and his bodyguards barely able to find room. The information was scant but was enough for Zagreus to work with. The Amerikon sector stretched for many parsecs and was rich was life, Zagreus judged by the amount of habitable worlds and its serviceable shipping lanes.
     This would mean a heavy enemy presence it also meant that there had to be a disgruntled corner of this sector unhappy with the Imperium. Recruiting new Space Marines would take years Zagreus knew he wouldn't have but if he could spread the blasphemous word of his masters he could have an legion of slavering slave soldiers in months under the right circumstances. Zagreus brought up the census data of the sector, he quickly scrolled through the list till he saw what he knew he would find.
      A planet with a rare and specific tithe appellation, Aptus Non, In high gothic it stood for "Not Applicable" it was worlds like Mechanicus Forge worlds or Dead worlds that found this designation but also the home worlds of Space Marine Chapters. The data noted it was a death world with a population of roughly thirteen million. That was all it had to offer but it was enough for Zagreus, he then scanned the list for a planet nearby with a high population and cross referenced that list with a world farthest from the shipping lanes.
      He found what he needed in the planet Mordraban. The planet was designated a hive world with a population of nine billion and it was unfortunately situated furthest from all but the thinnest of shipping lanes. This was the planet, here beneath it's spires he would establish a deamonic beach head into real space then he and his brothers would make the Imperium pay for it's blind veneration of the unworthy like Saint Basillius. Zagreus gritted his teeth at the thought of that hoary old charlatan.

               "Nophorius, Clandel convice those serf's to ignite the warp drives once again I will be guiding us to our next feast" 

 

  Zagreus ordered the two Battle Brothers and they left at his command without preamble or word. When they were gone the remaining body guard spoke up.

            

               "Whither does the Mistress command us Sorcerer?"

               "She sends us to a bastion of humanity called Mordraban to spread her promiscuous truth Shantar" said the Sorcerer staring his enmity out of the corner of his eyes at the remaining body guard for the backhanded suggestion that there was anyone but Zagreus in charge.

     Zagreus trusted Shantar the least, of all those who had survived to claim this ship with him Shantar was the most dangerous. The only remaining Aspiring Champion to survive he was promoted to Zagreus' side so as to be perceived that the Sorcerer respected Shantar's leadership skills but in truth Zagreus didn't trust Shantar out of his sight.
     The Champion nodded his helmeted head silently the glowing embers of his eye lenses smouldered a pale blue and Zagreus' stomach's growled, he felt a sudden itch in his gums and an intense desire to pluck Shantar's eyes from their sockets and chew them up between his molars. Zagreus resisted the urge and turned to face Shantar

              "We will feast my son have no fears, we will gorge and vomit up the excess and gorge ourselves again, all for the glory of Slaanesh and to the ruination of the Imperium"

    Shantar simply turned languidly to face the small pressurized door of the bridge as if it needed to be guarded, for all his swagger Zagreus could sense a gluttonous kernel within the man, pulsating deep within his psyche like the rumble of an empty stomach. No matter if the two silently hated each other they both knew the Sorcerer was right for now.
    With that thought the deck beneath them resumed its dull reverberation as the drives lit and the ship began its journey towards an exit vector for warp translation and then the Amerikon sector and all the mayhem it could represent.

    It was some months aboard the Mastigos before they reached their destination of Mordraban Zagreus' warband had nearly exhausted the small slave crew and the ship was running on a skeleton staff. The nightmare for the crew of the Mastigos was nearly over as the ship translated in system Zagreus had the crew plot a clandestine course having them burn and weave through gravitic fields and the dark sides of planets until they were no longer able to hide their presence.

               "Set a course to bring us in orbit with the planet and light the distress beacons"

               "The distress beacons my lord?" Asked a surviving low grade officer with enough experience to grovel, the light of hope daring to glimmer an eclipse from behind his dead pupils

               "Aye, light the beacons and prep the life boats we're abandoning ship" said Zagreus with a wicked smile aimed at the members of his body guard.

               "Aye my lord" said the officer quick to scurry away and complete his order, foolish enough to think he was going to live to see the surface of an Imperial planet let alone a life boat.

     Upon completion of their duties Zagreus ordered the course locked and as that was being done he and his body guards fell upon the remaining bridge crew quick to glut themselves on the vital organs for there was little time. When finished Zagreus spoke into the warp flask upon his wrist.

               "Warriors of the Ravenous free yourself from restraint cull this chattel in the name of Slaanesh" he paused then a mocking grin crossed his face "Night falls keep the watch"

   Across the ship the warriors who turned on their slaves said in chorus the response by rote

 

              "We shall be Sentinels"

 

     Zagreus smiled smugly to himself, pleased that he was able to pervert a former Sentinels proverb and made his way to the reactor core of the ship. When he arrived he disengaged the safety seals and disabled all cooling mechanisms when the automatic voice piped from the vox speakers of the reactor chamber warning of the danger Zagreus had caused and the soon coming wrath of the Machine God Zagreus drew his bolt pistol and fired upon the reactor console and proceeded to make his way to the life boats his guards in tow.
    Alarm klaxons blared across the ship as the remainder of the tortured crew flooded the halls of the ship in hopes of escape from their cannibalistic masters. Zagreus and his command squad crammed in the first life boat and blasted away from the ship the Sorcerer left his warband to figure out what was happening to the Mastigos, any of those too far gone to have the good sense to flee a clearly doomed ship were not of use to the next phase of Zagreus plan.

                "I see other life boats jettisoning the ship" said Clandel observing from the rear view port

                "How many?" asked Zagreus

                "Two" said Clandel simply

                "A squad then" said Zagreus "More than enough" he finished with a wicked smile he addressed his wrist warp flask again

               "My warriors our numbers our less but our devotion is strong, when we make planet side rally on my position if unable then make for the underhive and watch for my signal." The life boat had begun to enter the upper atmosphere of Mordraban and had begun to shake violently.

               "Brothers you are free to gorge yourselves I charge you with only these two commands honor the Dark Prince with your overindulgence and remain hidden, we must take in secret until this world is ours."

         With that Zagreus let his wrist drop and the three remaining life pods of the Mastigos fell like bad fruit from a diseased tree. The Mastigos' reactor reached critical and the ship exploded in the upper atmosphere debris raining down amidst nucleonic fire covering the descent of the life pods as they began to burn their retro thrusters in an attempt to deny gravity.
Shantar was able to wrestle with the limited control panel and coerce the machine spirit of the escape pod to aim their descent to Mordraban Primus, the capital hive, a hive over populated and under worked, a hive with all the potential Zagreus warband would need.



         The journey homeward took some months of warp travel but the Angels Sanctified were no less energetic to be home when their fleet made warp translation into the Amerikon sector. This return was somewhat unheard of amongst the Angels Sanctified. The Chapter preferred to make war in the form of a mighty crusade leaving a Host on the home world to guard and train the new recruits. For the Chapter to be heading in force towards the home world sat ill with many of those who had been with the fleet for some time.
     Fourth company had been charged with this duty for the last seventeen years and in that time they had helped the Sanguinary Priesthood stationed within the Fortress Monastery in training the neophytes and rested preparing to make war in the Emperor's name once again. Now the Chapter was home and that duty would once again rotate to the next company.
    The fleet now orbited their home, Tortosa, it was a hard world. It was believed to have been the site of an ancient war between two alien races who would rather have seen the planet destroyed than given over. Yet Tortosa survived in a fashion, its oceans boiled away, its soil became forever irradiated from the advanced eldritch weaponry of the combatants. The first settlers to Tortosa were the colonists who set out before the fall of Old Night.

      Though their technology was wondrous it was not able to scour the planet clean of its radiological taint instead they built massive
continent spanning mega cities protected within powerful void shields. These mega hives were supported by underground arcology domes and water filtration devises. When the pall of Old Night was cast the settlers were lost for many years.

        Salvation came though with the coming of the Emperor, His Great Crusade had meant the world of Tortosa was welcomed back into the fold. However due to the subsequent rebellion of the Emperor's favored son Horus, Tortosa had been lost to the galaxy spanning warp storms of that era and great horrors were unleashed upon the worlds isolated surface.

       
        The original colonists closed off portion after portion of their cities, habitation block after habitation block, trying to stem the tide of the otherworldly invaders. They sealed in neighbors, friends and family in hopes to save themselves and it worked. When the cataclysm was over the survivors found their world much unchanged save for much of their wondrous technology was destroyed.

        The great void shields let pockets of dangerous radiation in, monstrosity's roam the deserted hab blocks and the filtration systems break down frequently and water must be rationed. In spite of all this the humans of Tortosa endure, living among the ruins of their once great cities, they eek out an existence repairing and maintaining what machines they can. Some tend the remaining arcology domes while the brave or foolish will leave the safety of the walls in scouting parties to raid their neighborhood hives that went dark for parts and equipment. Joining the mining guilds in hopes of unearthing the precious metals of the cities and the rad soaked plains is possibly the most lucrative and most dangerous of Tartosa's careers.

         More often than not gainful employment cannot be found in one of the merchant houses or mining guilds this problem plagues the citizens of the under hive most. Gangs control much of the lower levels where the sun of Tortosa's system doesn't reach.

        Deep in these subterranean levels hope is an even harder commodity to come by but the gangers claim they have the answer and supply it with cheap addictive narcotics. It is from these levels that the Angels Sanctified find most of their recruits. This is the world of Tortosa, the planet teaches its inhabitants in daily lessons of pain, death, bravery and sometimes sacrifice. It is from these hard, mercantile peoples that the Chapter recruit from and they would have it no other way.

 

      The fleet of the Angels Sanctified had orbited the planet of Tortosa for over some months now and appeared to make no changes to this other than the randomly assigned picket duty of one of its Hosts of the Adirondak subsector that Tortosa orbited in. Chapter Master Benedictus brooded within his strategium the red battle lumen's were extinguished for they were not within hostile space. The only light was of the rudimentary flickering of the photon candles. Benedictus was reflecting in the near darkness of what he was to do next, he yearned to gather his Chapter in full force and set out to find the daemon who dared claim mastery of their fate. Yet doing so would leave the home world in peril, something Benedictus was not willing to risk either.

            

             'Would that this beast, this Keeper of Secrets show his face lest I shew it whom is master of this Chapter' thought Benedictus to himself.

            "Only the Emperor is master of this Chapter, my Lord" said Epistolary Uzziel

Benedictus turned his head to see the Librarian standing in the shadow of an angelic column.

           "How long have you sat in this darkness and watched my thoughts with your witch sight Brother Epistolary Uzziel" said Benedictus with the weight of command behind his voice.

          "This would not be the first my Lord though it is the first time I have felt the need to show myself, I regret my Lord this is duty of my brotherhood. The Chief Librarian has tasked me with this burden in his absence." Said Uzziel his head bowed respectfully.

         

         "I suppose I should expect nothing less from Aziriah" said Benedictus more to himself his gaze returning to the Librarian "Very well Brother Epistolary observe my mind you will find only service to Emperor"

         "I do not doubt your service Lord, and your dedication to the erasure of this presumptuous warp fiend is commendable but I would counsel caution in this time Lord"

          "Simply caution Uzziel?" Benedictus questioned 'Or perhaps your eyes have seen the correct path to walk, or a false one'

        "My solution comes not from my abilities but my reverence for tradition Lord" retorted Uzziel "I would suggest the Chapter does what it always does, it goes to war on it's latest crusade"

         "And what march into the Eye of Terror itself? Let the Chapter suffer the same fate as all those of the Abyssal Crusade, of these Sentinels"

        "Sentinels no longer, they are the Corpus Brethren and they are a blood thirsty blight upon the galaxy my Lord" began Uzziel. "Since their turn from the Throne, by its Light we are preserved, they have run much the way of they newly renegade it seems.
Those Warbands that avoided being coerced into joining one of the Champions of Chaos like the Tyrant of Badab have it seems disappeared into warp rifts and spatial anomalies to await their turn to peck at the Imperium's flanks."

       "What you mean to say is that we have no idea where this attack is coming from?"

Benedictus had asked this while staring into a hololithic he had brought up of Tortosa the Blood Paladins homeworld.

       "As of yet no but there are means my Lord, inquiries we could make of the right people as to where to begin our search, many warzones across the galaxy need our aid Chapter Master, our obligation to our parent chapter still stands. Hive fleet Leviathan closes upon the Cryptus system"

    Benedictus flashed a glare at Uzziel and quickly ensured that there was no one to hear the Librarian's remark.

       "Do not speak of the 'Septem Leges' in the presence of the uninitiated" hissed Benedictus
       "I wish dearly to aid the Lord Commander but there are many who seek our aid between here and Baal." The Chapter Master concluded.

   Uzziel was worried he was losing Benedictus but he needed to say what he had been meditating on since the Victory Sacrament.

      "What you say has been done before but in the face of grave catastrophe, and yet my foresight tells me there is some great calamity coming."
Replied Benedictus "Tell me Uzziel, have you spent time in communion?"

      "I have my Lord, I have spent many hours in prayer, my mind opened to the Emperor's will and I have listened for the Holy Choir and my visions have lead me to the planet Mordaband, I feel this is the course for us my Lord." Said Uzziel with conviction while simultaneously wishing Aziriah was here.

     "Very well I will assign Fifth Host to investigate, I want a member of the Librarius attached to each company Uzziel make sure to that. Neither you nor the Chapter will have to wait long for my orders."

        With that Benedictus turned to leave for his private quarters there was much he needed to do and he wished to think alone and reflect on the assignments that he would give. He would have to recall the Sanguinary Guard, such was the time for them to be at his side not to be about the errands of the Librarius.
    
        Captain Uriah had gathered the fifth Host in one of the docking bays aboard the Carillon his intent on sharing the remit of Lord Benedictus. The docking bay ceiling reached far above and from it hung the ceremonial flags and honors of the Chapter and of the flight wings stationed here that had earned glory in battle.
      The Host, the equivalent to a Space Marine Company, was already gathered and assembled in perfect formation by the time he had made it to the docking bay. Uriah let his pride show for his men as he took them in. His strides took him to the space at the head of the formation and he eye's ranged over these warriors.
      Uriah's artificer wrought armor gleamed the sullen ruby of his chapter and his pauldron's had been cleaned and gleamed with a sable shine. While his ceremonial left pauldron, the one that bore an elegant angelic wing wrapped about the Chapter's symbol, was repaired in glorious fashion. The Wing represented his duty as Captain of the fifth Host to be the exemplar against the corruption of Chaos.
      A duty that held much honor but in the history of the Angels Sanctified was not much of note due to their position within the Imperium. Segmentum Tempestus was threatened by many xenos, Eldar slave raiders, the reawakened dynasties of the Necron, and countless Ork insurrections.
Chaos however had been blessedly absent through much of the Segmentum's history. It was since that the third Captaincy with its charge against the alien had always garnered much honor for any Captain to rise to its rank.
      Uriah thought of his peer, Captain Lucas, they had never met but the man's reputations as well as that of any Captain of the third Host preceded him. Uriah's attention returned to his men as they stood at perfect attention awaiting his words.

             "Battle Brothers" he began "once again the cog of duty turns and we find ourselves not absent from its whims the Chapter calls and we answer."

     With this he began to scan the faces in the formation, the men went without helm's and each stood out in Uriah's mind from the last. Some were dour veterans, patrician in aspect, their countenance one who has seen the galaxies horrors and rejected them. Those who were fresh from the Fortress Monastery bore new scars on them. Much changed from when they had left the home world for the first time long ago when the fifths stewardship ended.

             "We have been called to the planet Mordaband, civil unrest runs rampant in her streets and there is talk that the Planetary Governor has turned from the Emperor's light. May the Primarch grant us his grace in this task see to your wargear, see to your weapons and most importantly see to your minds for they are the tools for the task at hand, dismissed"
 

       With this the formation began to disassemble and Uriah tried not to think about the other half of his orders that he did not share with his troops.

 

       It had been three years since the Fifth Host had left. Benedictus stood within his private chambers in the Fortress Monastery. He had lost himself in a painting that had been created thousands of years ago by a predesssor of his. The work of art detailed a Tortosian sunset, alive with livid color, over a mountain range.

     The sunset burned a bloody crimson their gradient growing to a cooler indigo at the foot of the mountains. The artist even captured the rivulets of chartreuse water that ran from the mountain cliff face. Benedictus found himself thinking back to his conversation with the Capatain of the Fifth before the Host had departed. 

     They had been standing in his quarters aboard the Invictus. The Chapter Masters quarters were spacious but appointed sparingly. The room was brightly lit in contrast with much of the ship and its walls were white washed. It made Uriah think of ice fields of Xilan VI the planet had been an outlying world of the reawakened the Necron Deantek Dynasty.
       The fighting had been hard fought and bloody and many had died on those plains of blinding white. The Chapter Master sat behind a massive desk of Ironwood his armor upon the wrack behind and adjacent. His fingers were steepled before him as he laid out the Captain's task.

              "Nothing happens by circumstance Uriah" Benedictus had said "You are Captain of the fifth Host, the duty you are charged with is to be the spearhead against the Great Enemy."

   With this Uriah had raised his head and spoke up.

             "Then my Lord would I not be better served out in the front with you, finding the source of this evil, my Host is not without it's losses but we can manage" asked Uriah and Benedictus smiled in a paternal fashion.

             "No your men have earned this and there is another reason Uriah, corruption comes from within, I want you to be ever on guard when about the home world and the system. Be mindful of the citizens, learn to watch them in such the right fashion and they will lead you to the ones who don't belong"

               "Those who don't belong? My Lord I am confused by what do you mean?" Asked Uriah his brow furrowed.

              
               "Mutants, heretics, traitors, Uriah, the foe you have been charged with being the most familiar with. I chose you for this Captaincy for a reason Uriah, because you're stout of heart, because in the past you have resisted the easy path, you have looked to tradition and the Primarch, I know this because it is my job.    

      Because it is my task not only to fight on the battle field but to fight for the soul of my Chapter by ensuring the right man gets the right job. You Uriah are the right man for this job. It is my firm suspicion that the Great Enemy will attempt to use this time to strike from within our borders. It has been impressed upon me however of late the danger of leaving ourselves to sit and wait for an enemy to work its mischief throughout the galaxy while we sit at full fleet strength about the home world.
               This is what I charge you with Uriah, I order you to search, to find, and to destroy with precision the enemies of mankind within our home world's sector. Not to a slaughter, remember that when the time comes Uriah, remember that."

 

   

 

        It had been nineteen hours since Arbitrator Eberstark had transmitted his report to Judge Wernick on what was happening in the under hives of Mordraband. Corruption was running rampant amongst the lower hive officials, dangerous narcotics were far exceeding permissible levels and because of it under hive gangers were becoming better equipped than the planetary police forces. Even more disturbing but kept quiet from the general populace were the rash of attacks and disappearances that been happening for years now.

     Richart Eberstark was a loyal servant of the Imperium and he was growing frustrated with the lack of response from his superiors he had decided three hours earlier that his office would keep him safe and that he would proceed with his investigation of Mordraband Primus. He was on sub level thirty prowling the streets closest to the spine of the hive superstructure in search of his quarry. The sniveling bureaucrat who told him this didn't want to share the information at first.

     At first he had told Richart to go 'fug' himself. Richart was able to convince the low level official otherwise after reminding the man of Richart's station and office and a power baton to the gut. After this the bureaucrat, buzzing from a fresh smack of 'Tranquil' was only too quick to share all he knew on the subject and to apologize for his crimes. Richart remanded the man to his squad, a band of hand picked men from the hive police force he could trust, and resumed his search with this fresh information. 

    Richart thumped along in the darkness his Suppression Shield on his arm, he didn't care if he stood out to these wretches so far from the Emperor's light. In fact they probably needed to be reminded of what true service was Richart thought to himself as he came upon the address or rather lack of one the official provided. It was burnt out superstructure built into the spine of the hive like so many others only instead of light and humanity pouring from its view ports only darkness remained. Richart switched the illuminator strapped to his waist on and stomped his way into the blackness.

     The place looked abandoned to the casual eye but Richart could pick out a trail in the dust and debris left from the massive fire that took place here. It lead to one of the many stairways that made up the former hab-block, one that made a circuitous route downward. It wasn't long before the photic torches upon the walls of the stairwell were reignited, dull and encrusted with grime, their light gave the tight stairwell an eerie cold feel. The path downward went on, it left the stairwell but Richart was able to follow it simply by the lit photic torches.

    The Arbitrator caught himself running through passages of the Imperial Creed that comforted him but did not stop instead letting the passages he knew so well form the backround chatter of his mind as he made his way through the darkened and desolate halls. Finally Richart was ushered into a mid sized chamber. It might have been any number of things in life, a gathering place, a local small business, in death it was a darkened enclosure whose walls formed a perfect circle. 

     Richart looked up and saw that the chamber had no roof and that the crack in the ceiling lead all the way up to the upper echelons of the hive. Richart saw the sky for the first time in days, he couldn't see the stars but he didn't care its blue black darkness comforted him and the lights of the upper levels made for a quick enough substitute for the stars. His gaze returned to the chamber and he noticed how the light from the upper hive fell on the chamber floor.

     Upon closer inspection Richart could make out a small trails in the rockcrete of the floor. The swirling designs made Richart's head swim and he became dizzy stumbling to his feet he took in the design from a further vantage and noticed they covered the chamber and that they spelled individual sigil's that interlocked and wove with one another in a manner that left the mind stupefied. Richart began to wretch for an unknown reason and his vomit fell upon the sigils. 

     A greasy tang formed at the back of Richart's throat and his tongue burned with his own stomach acid and felt too large for his mouth. He wished to look away from the sigils but they had begun to pulse and quiver around the areas where his vomit fell. A dull chanting began to emanate from the chamber's walls and black robed helots emerged from the corners of the chamber. Richart tried to speak, tried to form the words necessary to inform them of their transgressions for gathering in such a manner but nothing but a strangled gargle issued from his mouth. 

    His Suppression Shield had become a crutch and he leaned heavily on it turning in circles like a wounded animal. The black robed menials closed in, their chanting unceasing, the non words droning in Richart's head like the blades of an industrial fan. It was then that Richart remembered the passages he had said to himself for so long. He began to say them in his mind and like a flood receding the drone of the chanting and the ball of weight in his throat passed and the words came from his mouth at last.

 

         "and with fire and lightnings the Emperor shall be proclaimed in the highest.."

  

    With this Richart surged forward with new strength, righteous fury building in his limbs. His voice quivering between emotion and authority

 

         "In the name of our Lord the Emperor most high I name you heretics, abase yourselves and surrender for His judgement!"

 

    The five black robed menials stopped in their tracks but their chanting did not stop. They answered only in drawing ritual blades from their sleeves and belts and removing their hoods. Richart inhaled sharply and readied himself for their attack, drawing his power baton and shouldering his shield, but it did not come.

         Instead the menials in turn shouted a crescendo of their particular verse and plunged the dagger into their chest. Their bodies fell upon the sigils and their blood and bodily fluids ran and mixed with Richart's vomit becoming a truly horrific effluence. Richart stood firm in the midst of this the passages of the Imperial Creed in the back of his mind as he stood trying to decide what next when out of the darkness stepped a giant.

         He was gird for war like one of the Emperor's Adeptus Astartes but his wargear was wrong. It was painted in riotous shades of electric blue that streaked like that of a plains animal over a base of perfectly polished metal that caught the light even in this darkness. In his one hand he held a staff that seemed to be made up of ligaments and tendons stretched and hardened and yet still slick with ichor.

        At the staff's tip was a symbol that matched the ones on the floor. It was likened unto an androgynous melding of the ancient symbols for man and woman with cruel barbs scintillating from its edges. His helmet's eye lenses glowed with a deep blue witch light not unlike the sky that had so comforted Richart moments before. With solemnity the giant inclined the staff toward Richart and speaking a word of power from the depths of the warp the Arbitrator's mind was filled with pain. It was as if his entire being burned with sensory overload, he could not see for the blinding light, he could not hear for the hurricane that blew in his ears alone, he could not move for his muscles rejoiced in agony.

        Then all was silent, as quickly as it had begun it was over, Richart's eye was caught by the glimmer in front of him as the after light receded from his retinas his mind wasn't working, wasn't registering the spar of metal protruding from his left breast as anything to worry about. The Arbitrator sank to his knees and looked back up at the sky above it. He imagined the lights as stars again and the spar of metal, in actuality Shantar's combat knife, slid in between the second and third intercostal space of Richart's ribcage. withdrew and as it did he whispered a final benediction.

 

        "Who is like Him, he who shineth with the light of the heavens" and with this Arbitrator Eberstark died his blood flowing down into the rivulets of the heretics.

 

        Zagreus flew into a rage, roaring his frustration so loud his jaw distended much too far like that of a snake or predator. 

 

        "You fool Shantar! Could you not see this corpse worshiper has befouled the site with the mention of The Anathema!"

 

       "Apologies Lord" grated Shantar sounding anything but apologetic.

 

    Again the Sorcerer spoke words from the warp, their non syllables dripping from the vox emitter in his breather grille like etheric snakes and worms dribbling from his mouth. Shantar's body stiffened, his jaw tightened and his head began to spasm minutely like that of a palsy victim. Yet he held his defiant gaze with Ishtaraiel. 

 

        "You transgress not against me Shantar, it would behoove you to remember that."

 

    The Sorcerer let it continue long enough for the point to be made then released his bodyguard and turned from the chamber making to leave.

 

         "Find another six Shantar, take the others with you, I wish to commune with the Mistress take this leftover and split him among your fellows I want unsullied minds for this ritual." 

 

     With that the Sorcerer took a young man who had been waiting in the shadows roughly by the shoulder and shoved him towards Shantar. The acolyte hit the ground with a sickening crack. Shantar took the man roughly by the ankle, breaking more of the mans bones, and began to drag him back up the way Eberstark had come.

    Zagreus glowered from the darkness until he no longer heard the hum of Shantar's power armor or the shallow frightened breathing of the acolyte being dragged along behind. They had done well here, they had feasted here for years, preying upon the populace. In the beginning there had been much work to do. They strived to elevate certain criminal elements, slaughtering certain gangers while leaving the competition, who usually dealt in pleasure narcotics, to prosper.

    They saw to it that the most corrupt and greedy officials were left unmolested allowing their perversions to continue and multiply. Most of all they fed, indiscriminately and all for their own cannibalistic lust. The planet Mordraband was becoming strong, Ishtaraiel could feel it. The barriers between realities were weakening and Ishtaraiel the Ravenous could smell it like a storm on the breeze like he could smell the now rotting entrails of the cultists before him. 

    They would need a new site, Zagreus could re-consecrate this site but that wouldn't be to the Dark Prince's liking, better to strike out and debase another place. I breeze picked up and whistled through the abandoned chamber, it didn't stop but instead seemed to flow in a predetermined pattern as if the chamber were only the workings of some wind instrument.

    The keening wailing rose until the blood and fluids around Zagreus' feet began to shudder like ripples on a lakes surface. The bodies around Ishtaraiel began to writhe and twist their spilt blood rising on twisting, questing tentacle like protrusions. The dead cultists were dragged together by some unseen force and were lifted individually off the ground only to be smashed into another dead cultist. 

    Like watching gravity work on a galactic scale the bodies danced in orbits and crashed into each other compacting into smaller unrecognizable meat fragments, like watching a petulant child smash his toys together in frustration. It was here the probing blood protrusions would dive into gaping maws and pale fleshy orifices. Ishtaraiel knelt on the now bare floor save for the body of Arbitrator Eberstark as the greater deamon of Slaanesh materialized in the dead bodies of the cultists.

    The creatures body was unfinished, it bore cuts and gashes and it was missing its second set of arms that grew from its torso. Its breath came in great chugging sucks that were utterly unpleasant.

    

          "Only fiiiiive, very unhappy with you Zagreus"

 

    The beast sounded like it was having a difficult time holding itself together as if the great chunks of stolen flesh might fall apart at any moment. Ishtaraiel knew it was because of the fouled ritual he also knew there would be a great price to pay for this and he had already determined he would not be the one to pay it.

 

          "We will make them pay Mistress, the population will convert this night to the Dark Prince or they will die"

 

          "Bold boy you shall not escape punishment that easy, you will come with me this night. I have made great pacts so that your cousins could be involved in the greatest embrocation of the galaxy while they search for me. My plans are lofty like the greatest symphony Zagreus, and you will be my maestro."

 

          "You honor me Mistress"

 

           "Silence, my time is short, inform your brothers their leash is finally loosened tell them to indulge every excess tonight."

 

      The greater daemon's lithe leg brushed against the prone form of Eberstark and she flew into a rage stomping the remains with a brutality that didn't exist in this reality. Zagreus had not yet lifted his gaze he simply watched the remains of the Imperial lawman become less recognizable while his stomachs growled. 

 

           "You are wise to avert your gaze, if you saw me like this child I think I might go over the edge" Then the monster uttered a trilling wet sound that Zagreus could only assume was the daemon's attempt at a coquettish giggle. "Listen to me Zagreus while I teach you how to escape these chains." The daemon gestured with flourish even though the only person who could see it was averting his gaze.

 

       There in the darkness in hurried whisperers the Keeper of Secrets Ishtaraiel the Ravenous revealed its plan to a damned man who could only stare at the remains of a loyal servant of the Throne.

 

          

 

          

           

[deathspectersgt7]

[BruvaTrav]

Chapter 3

 

      The squad of Chosen warriors brazenly walked the streets revealing themselves for the first time. Those who hindered them died, with their power armored fists they broke necks and spines, with their gnashing teeth they fell upon their quarry. They did this in full view of the populace and the hive security cameras. Shantar had received the message from Ishtaraiel some hours ago extolling him to indulge his every whim and that Ishtaraiel was leaving and that this world was, by the grace of the Dark Prince, Shantar's now.

 

      Shantar didn't question he didn't argue, he was glad to be rid of the Sorcerer, he was leader of the warband now such as it was. This world he would make his bastion, his fastness, from its loins would spring the rebirth of his lost brothers. He would do this under the very nose of these blood moppets. His mind burned with thoughts of perverting the populace and recruiting the strongest from them for his own gains.

 

     Then his mind turned to musings of conquest as they ascended the various stairs and pathways ever climbing upward, their approach heralded by those they had driven mad with fear as the judgement for their sins. Shantar was a warrior not a counselor of the ether and this was the solution he had been waiting for, the Aspiring Champion thought he would have to foul Zagreus' rituals possibly even kill him.

 

      Now it seemed he was gifted the position, perhaps there was something to Zagreus' constant enigmatic musings. He had killed in the name of Slaanesh many times, but never with true conviction, only to see the fear in his prey's eye when he invoked such a figure. Now it seemed as if he had finally been rewarded for his paltry devotion.

 

     'What heights might I soar to if I commit this world to the Dark Prince?' Shantar wondered behind his helmet as the last Guardsman who dared oppose them had his back broken across Clandel's knee.

 

     The squad of Shantar's Chosen stood now upon the stairs the Govenor's Palace they faced out to the crowds and Shantar removed his helm to feel the air, for once not the foetor of the underhive, of Mordaband upon his face. The sun had just set and the stars were visible, they shone through the polluted atmosphere and upon finally seeing them Shantar took it as a sign. He smiled into the heavens with rapture, his monstrous grin spreading too far across his face as rows of rows of teeth were revealed behind his thin lips. Yet his moment was stolen all too soon, one by one the stars went out as the sky darkened and the light pollution of the Hive world blotted them out again.

 

     The squad were Chosen warriors, their armor was the best in their warband, they each stood menacingly staring into the crowds that dared form in their periphery the civilians foolishly thinking themselves safe. Shantar's armor flickered with ghostlight, it seemed to flow from one peice of his armor to the next along the trim like ghostly veins were pumping an ectoplasmic vitae across his body.

 

      The Aspiring Champion didn't have to wait long for the servo skulls to move in. Soon his face would be on every photic screen and every mass bulletin across the planet. Tucking his horned helmet into the crook of his arm he took a shoulder wide stance and with his other arm extended addressed the crowd like a statesman of old.

 

      "Citizens hear Me! Too long have you been slaves to the Imperium and its lies, too long have you toiled in darkness for an Emperor who no longer hears your prayers and whose servants corrupt you, tax and tithe you! Fear not we are your liberators, we shall free you from your shackels, your chains of laws and tithes and responsibilities. These are broken, your only law, obey my rule, your only tithe will be the life of your neighbor who opposes me, and your only responsibility? To worship the Dark Prince Slaanesh!"

 

       With this the Planetary Governor was brought forth by those humans they had turned to their own service over the years. These cultists had lain in wait for years some Istharaiel's playthings from the beginning. They were often drugged into a narcotic stupor and forced to watch the debased acts of Shantar's warriors sometimes becoming a part of the meal itself only able to watch in horror. It was from these mad eyed prophets the ranks of cultists had grown.

 

      The Governor had lost all manner of regal bearing, his shoulder slumped and he cowered and tried to turn from Shantar's gaze only to be forced by the cultists ever closer. Shantar turned and placed a benevolent hand upon the Governor's shoulder, the one that was closest to the crowd so that Shantar's massive frame and pauldron obscured them from the view of the servo skulls.

 

        "Serve as my equerry and endorse my reign or I will eat you and everyone you hold dear" Shantar said quickly and quietly to the Governor then turning again to the crowd raised the Governor's arm up and like a victory was just won.

 

     The Governor couldn't speak for fear but he managed a smile and raised his other arm to wave at the astonished crowd before him. He couldn't seem to get his thoughts together but the monster that held his arm aloft was looking down upon him waiting and the crowds had ceased their murmuring waiting for the Governor's words.

 

            "I...I endorse this man and all he stands for."

 

      At the mention of the word man the Governor's head fell and the rest of his utterance tasted like ashes in his mouth. He knew he put the lie to it when he described the abhorrent thing standing upon his steps as a 'man'.

 

      From that moment on the planet was thrown into chaos, the local police and defense bases were broken into their armories broken into and their deadly weaponry spread amongst the rioters. The factories themselves were given entire new work orders to supply the planetary militia that grew daily. Perhaps the most dire spoil of war were the most advanced factories within Mordraband Primus that had STC print outs of bolt weapons and power armor this pleased Shantar greatly. Scientists and doctors, under pain of death from Lord Shantar, began genetic experimentation on the populace those found acceptable were filtered out those not became the test subjects. Whole hab blocks were rounded up for the process.   

 

      Shantar had been thorough all these years, he had made sure to download many basic schematics to his suits memory system across his travels. Those of which concerned themselves with the field implantation and extraction of gene seed he was careful to commit to his eidetic memory when the warp began to take hold and change the relationship between he and his armor.

   While most of it still functioned as a separate part of him he was not one to giving over to chance. Shantar stood now on the balcony of the Governor's mansion he had sequestered for himself and thought on his accomplishments. He knew he needed to move with the utmost speed, his vision for a planetary stronghold in this sector would take otherworldly help as well.

    A timid cough sounded from behind Shantar and the aspiring champion turned from the railing to see his Equerry the former Planetary Governor.

 

         "Yes Equerry Urm" said Shantar speaking the mans name as if he hadn't heard the man pad across the room or smelt the narcotics in his sweat when he stalked behind Shantar.

 

         "Your humble servants within the medical administration estimate there is within the population of Mordraband Primus a seven percent of suitable slave stock that fit your specific genetic requirements my Lord."

    

    The former Governor had been simple enough to placate, pleasure cults were springing up like wildfire across the planets habitation zones at Shantar's encouragement and the former Governor had been easy enough to involve in one.

 

         "This is well, better than expected, tell them to continue their research and that more instructions will be coming when they have completed this tasking."

 

         "As you wish my Lord" said Urm bowing low and quickly turning from the master of Mordraband to flee the room in a walk just short of a jog.

 

         "Craven dog" said Shantar at the mans back after he had disappeared through the darkened portals of the stateroom.

 

    As Shantar began to make his way to the lower levels for the nightly feast he thought on the irksome loyalists that would undoubtedly come before it was over. He had a solution for them as well if they dared interfere with his plans for conquest, they would burn in the hell he had created on this planet.

 

         

 

 

         

 

 

          The warp travel to Mordraband should have only been the voyage of days but the Navigator had found the warp lanes to Mordraband full of strange eddies and currents that did not correspond to what was considered normal for the area. He elected to delay the voyage into that of weeks to bypass the strange currents that made the navigator nauseous when he looked at them with his third eye too long.

    The Carillon approached Mordraband by skirting it at first then doubling back and approaching the planet as if entering from out of system. In this time Fifth Host trained and stood vigil in the strike cruiser chapel. Extra time was devoted to prayer in times like this, many a brother stood vigil repeating the mantras he was taught as a neophyte preparing for the 'Dark Ascension'. Their minds were prepared to battle the darkness of the Flaw within them before it even had a place inside them.

     Chaplain Ocran was with them and his sermons were aimed at inspiring his brothers and at the same time to expose those for the tell tale signs his order watched for. The Primarch smiled upon his sons for the slurred speech and glassy eyes that oft were the sign of the coming the Rage were not present fifth company this journey.

      Captain Uriah's brief took place the 'night' before the deployment, in it he detailed his battle plans for a surgical strike into Mordraband Primus. The captain had come to this conclusion after hearing the planetary vox chatter intercepted by the Carillon, it spoke of rebellion and freedom from the Emperor's shackels. It was at this the captain deemed the planet Excommunicae and his plans for its cleansing began in earnest. The assault squad, trusting to their jump packs would deploy from Thunderhawk escort at high altitude into the Primus hive, their target the hive main gate. The Tactical squads and command element would deploy outside the Hive gates from a safe distance and await the result. Should the Assault squad achieve its task and manage to open the gates then the Host would hammer through the open defenses and render justice to the hive from the inside. Should the Assault squad's fail the Captain had arranged transport for the heavier vehicle weapons platforms, these he would deploy later.

     After the briefing the battle brothers of Fifth Host assembled en masse to partake in the Moripatris, none succumbed and Chaplain Ocran declared it a sign from the Primarch that he was watching. After this the battle brothers were given a rare boon, they were released to spend these last hours to themselves. Many chose to rest in the fashion of Astartes, in their private cells with their catalepsean nodes switching their brains off sequentially. Some took to practice cages or simply spent time to themselves, the final rites and preparations being looked after with only the diligence of the user could instill.

    Some like Brother Talial stood vigil within the Chapel, he had come to find his favorite spot for such pre-battle moments of freedom. In a tucked away alcove of the chapel under a glass mosaic of the Primarch Sanguinius. The light of stars caught and filtered through to cast a golden shaft upon the patch of floor Talial stood.

   The Angels Sanctified had no great works of art made by the minds of those who had walked with the Primarch to portray his prowess in battle. They had the tales and were proud of their forebears but it was their way to portray the Primarch simply as he was to them. A soldier, a leader, and an angel.

   The mosaic presented an image of their gene father arrayed in his golden war plate, the Carnadon pelt he famously wore arrayed behind him as if caught in the breeze. His heavenly wings tucked behind his back while one hand beckoned the viewer as if to come up higher his other hand resting upon the haft of his Spear of Telesto.

   It was this image Talial took into battle with him, this image of his gene father, never met in the flesh but intimate in spirit. Talial was not so lost in thought as not to hear the hum of battle plate or the stomp of an approaching fellow Astartes. He turned to see the ebon war gear of Chaplain Ocran, the chaplain's helmet was mag locked to his waist as was his crozius. He strode right up to where Talial was standing and stopped next to him he  appeared to be taking in the mosaic.

 

        "Magnificent is it not? I am told Chaplain Vidreus took great care and time in its construction, supposedly he fell in a following battle after laying the final piece in place" 

 

       "Indeed, this is what I have come to understand as well, this is where I come to find myself in these moments Brother Chaplain" replied Talial

 

       "This is wise of you Brother Talial, more of your brothers would be served to spend some time here before battle." the Chaplain said his gaze lowering to Talial. 

 

       "Well I cannot take credit, it is as I was trained"

 

       "Yes Brother Sergeant Seth was your commanding officer during your training, a superb officer who is with the Emperor now"

 

      "As ever Chaplain your knowledge is exemplary, I must admit it is a little disconcerting to be so under whelmed of mutual information"

 

      "It is my job to be disconcerting Brother" said the Chaplain. Talial noticed the Chaplain hadn't taken his eye's off his own yet.

 

       "You do it well Chaplain" replied Talial as he turned so that he now stood face to face with the officer.

 

      "Be not concerned for yourself yet lad, it is your Brother Erziab I would know of and your Sergeant Asban"

 

      "They are loyal to the Emperor as always" said Talial his eyes narrowing "Perhaps asking them your self would inform you better Chaplain"

 

      "Do not confuse me for the enemy lad, or you will find yourself in quite a rad wyrm pit" the Chaplain replied.

 

        "Very well Chaplain, Brother Erziab's company has grown sour of late. Sergeant Asban and I keep watch over our brother and do our best to teach the recruits. Though Erziab's example is teaching some of them in a way not wholesome."    

     

       "That is all I wished to know Brother, you may go" said the Chaplain turning to leave abruptly and disappearing into the darker refines of the chapel recesses.

 

      Talial left the chapel and spent the rest of the time walking the ship, wandering from deck to deck trying to think about something other than his strange conversations with the chaplain.

 

      In another part of the ship another battle brother found his thoughts troubled in the final hours before the attack. Epistolary Uzziel had been transferred from the Invictus upon Chief Librarian Azariah's return. Uzziel sat cross legged, unarmored and stripped to the waist, within his personal cell. He had fasted and stayed alone in his cell for days now in "communion" with the Primarch. It was how the Angels Sanctified scryed the future, the Emperor's tarot was disdained amongst the Librarius instead Angels Sanctified Librarian's would abstain from food or drink or companionship. Upon locking themselves away in a private place the battle brothers to turn their thoughts to the Primarch and beseech him for a gift of his foresight.

      Uzziel could not shake the feeling of foreboding he experienced ever since he encountered the Greater Daemon of Slaanesh. He found himself in communion more and more often of late but what he saw brought him no comfort. There in the near darkness of his cell within his mind's eye he was greeted by the same vision every time. A dark warrior, stands high above the multitudes, from his mouth poured blasphemies and the people heeded him and turned from the light and as the world darkens gossamer threads can be seen leading up from the warrior into the abyss.

     The blackness swallows all and the scene changes, a circle of light forms and ghostly images appear within it. Uzziel sees a battle brother in the livery of a Blood Paladin fighting the dark warrior. The combatants are surrounded all around by conflict but they reside in the center in the circle of light. Just when it would seem the battle brother would triumph over the dark warrior victory is stolen when the dark warrior is turned by the blackness that has crept down the lengths of gossamer strings like oil. The strings that make him dance like marionette change his form into that of a beast with many limbs.

    The beast is about the devour the remaining battle brothers when Uzziel see's himself intervene. The beast is slain by the power of the warp that Uzziel wields but the vision is wrong from the dismembered head of the beast blackness jets forth covering everything in darkness. The scene changes again to one like the first another dark one who comes as a thief and who leads the multitudes from the first vision away into bondage and darkness and from those multitudes many dark warrior's arise.

     The vision ended and Uzziel woke with a start, the mental picture of many hundreds of traitor marines marching from a dark and powerful stronghold still burning in his mind and the tread of their booted feet receding from his hearing. He was covered in sweat and his body yearned for nourishment he checked the chrono built into the bulkhead, it was time. Uzziel stood, and stretched his aching limbs he then paged an arming servitor to his quarters.

     When the serf arrived it aided him in the rituals of armament and when it was concluded he left for the bridge of the ship. Uzziel was a talented diviner, indeed it was his inherent gift with the psychic arts. While he didn't hurl flames and thunderbolts directly at his enemies like some of his brothers in the Librarius, his talents were no less potent on the field of battle or in times like these.

      It was perhaps how Uzziel had risen to become equerry to the Chief Librarian who himself was a diviner, the skill was much honored in the chapter for the battle brothers saw it as representation of a closeness with the Primarch Sanguinius. It was because of this that he was even more frustrated with himself for not being able to better perceive what his gifted mind was trying to tell him.

     There was no time for that now thought the Epistolary to himself, the invasion was beginning already he could hear his name being paged to the flight deck. Uriah was wasting no time, he was nervous about leaving the home world's defenses undermanned. 

     Uzziel changed course for the flight decks and upon arriving quickly decided to board the Redhawk the craft assigned to the Assault Squads. He would be first on the ground to face this menace he had to be there to intercede for his brothers should they need him, and if his visions were correct they would need him. The preparation time was short for the Strike Cruiser had entered the system at full alert and had been at the ready for the entire approach. The highly trained chapter serfs who crewed the vessels and their servitor teams were quickly out of the hanger after the last minute preparations. 

      The rear hatch to the transport craft closed, and the light being swallowed up by the darkness of the interior of the craft reminded Uzziel of his vision. His determination grew at this, and he began to mutter the litanies of protection and readiness for the coming fight. The engines took on a skirling tone as they warmed up, the thunderhawk shook beneath Uzziel's boots and his stomachs lurched in anticipation at the familiar sense.

      The crew ran through final checks and a final pre-flight mission prep from the pilot to his crew but Uzziel wasn't paying attention his eyes were closed and his mind was on his vision.

     He was desperate to use these final moments in hope to understand but as the thunderhawk took off and the atmosphere within the landing bay was vented as the outer doors opened nothing other than the vision itself came to Uzziel. He could understand some of it but its vagaries were lost to him. The Assault Sergeant on board placed a hand on Uzziel's shoulder pad. 

 

       "I would not presume to command you Brother Epistolary but we have left the dock and are on a combat mission, I would suggest you wear your helm". came the Assault Sergeants electronically modified voice from his breather grille.

 

        "Quite right Brother, what is your name?" Uzziel asked as he drew his helm and slowly lowered it into position beneath his psychic hood.

   

        "Sergeant Sotiris my Lord" replied the Sergeant.

 

        "Well Sergeant I will be aiding you in this mission, I do not look to usurp your command either, I am simply here at the direction of my gifts."

 

        "Very well my Lord I thank you, we fly in ten minutes" said the Sergeant gesturing with a nod towards the rear hatch tersely. While his eyes were hooded from sight by his helmet Uzziel could tell by the mans tense body language he was uncomfortable in the presence of a psyker. 

 

    Uzziel nodded and the Sergeant returned to his squad in the further recesses of the hold. Companionship was not for one such as Uzziel at least outside his brotherhood of the Librarius. The thunderhawk engaged its main drives and Uzziel felt the drag within his chest his trans human body immune but not insensate to the experience.

 

    It wasn't long before the Redhawk and its squadron had penetrated the upper atmosphere of Mordraband and were crashing through tight spirals to avoid the anti aircraft fire being directed at them. 

  

         "Thirty seconds till insertion" came the voice of the co-pilot the strain of his duties barely registering in his voice. The Space Marine crew of the Redhawk were well trained and their genhanced senses aided them in their attempt to avoid the incoming fire that would destroy the ship.

   

    The Assault Squad formed up behind Uzziel and the Sergeant looked to him.

          

        "No jump pack my Lord?" the mockery in his voice apparent.

 

        "Nay Brother Sergeant I have not the need this day" replied the Epistolary as the rear hatch opened up to reveal the grey surface of the world.

 

        "I've never actually seen..." the Sergeant stumbled for words

 

        "Just see to your squad Sergeant, the Primarch's gaze is upon us." said Uzziel quietly

  

        "Aye my Lord" replied the Sergeant admonished.

 

    Just then the lights in the bay turned from red to green and Uzziel without missing a beat sprung for the open hatch the assault squad behind him. The squad quickly surpassed Uzziel their faces and bodies down turned their jump packs firing periodically so that they might jink in between the heavy fire that lit up the bleak polluted skies. Uzziel delayed, his form dropping like a stone through the firepower that even now turned the skies already lit by the setting sun into a corona of weapons fire.

        His arms crossed his chest reciting the litany of flight, then finally when his suit warned him of an incoming burst of flak about to hit he uncrossed his arms from his chest with explosive force and as he did so the power of the warp he had let lie dormant till now burst from him. Two ivory wings of psychic force burst from his back, and with their appearance he easily dodged the flak fire. 

        The gate tower they were designated to attack reared up before Uzziel and the Assault squad and they quickly fired their retro bursts and Uzziel's psychic wings beat like those of a bird of prey. The assault squad made a controlled decent on the open parapet the roar and heat from their jump packs disorienting their enemy. Uzziel's wings lead him to land their bright luminescence causing some to cover their eyes while others stood dumbfounded at the sight tears, from the brightness of Uzziel's wings, streaming down their face.

        Uzziel quickly spotted the traitor guardsman who manned the vox, the man had broken from the fight and was rushing indoors to spread the alarm over the hive net. Springing into action Uzziel bolted forward drawing his force sword from its scabbard he flung it at the man with a powerful last minute flick of his wrist. The balanced blade spun like a strange discus the handle pirouetting in tight arcs while the blade end loped in wide circles, all this seemed to flow in slow motion to Uzziel his mind aiding him precisely where and when to throw. The blade caught the man midriff sending him sprawling as the edge caught in the spinal cord.

        The traitor guardsman landed on his stomach his mind and body already failed him in shock and Uzziel retrieved his force sword like he drew it from a point in the ground where he had left it. The blade came free with a sickening crack and the mans nearly bifurcated body lay at angles no human should.   

        The team had quickly dispensed all that were in the upper garrison, grabbing up guardsmen and suffocating them behind their massive gauntlets or smashing wind pipes with hands formed into a knife cutting edge. Uzziel's wings had faded from sight before the fight was even over their usefulness extended for the moment but they had not gone unnoticed by the Assault Sergeant.

    

     "I...I am at a loss for words my Lord" said the Sergeant.

 

     "None are necessary Brother Sergeant to the mission time is of the essence"

 

     "As you command Brother" said the Sergeant bowing his head and turning from the Librarian, the appellation of 'brother' had not gone unnoticed by Uzziel either.

 

   The two warriors peered over the edge of the parapet to see their objective, the massive doors of the gate that lay closed for now. It was clear from their construction it would take a heavy siege to penetrate those mighty doors, time Fifth Host did not have.

  

     "Let us not tarry then, the Emperor's judgement waits for no man" said the Assault Sergeant as he leaped from the edge. 

 

   The squad followed behind him, the assault squads first objective, silencing the guard tower achieved they now were given the precious minutes of disarray they would need to silence the rest of the traitor militia manning it and Emperor willing open the gates. This time the squad landed amidst the enemy like a mortar barrage.

   The shock wave of their attack causing more than one traitor's knees to buckle from the violence of their landing. The violence didn't end there though, the assault squad drew chain blades and bolt pistols and charged their enemies. 

   Uzziel's force sword cleaved neatly through his enemies while his comrades hacked with their chain swords leaving ragged lumps of flesh in their wake. 

 

     "Take the pace brothers, quickly now inside" urged the assault sergeant.

 

       The squad quickly forced their way through the doorway of the gate house working ever deeper into the workings of the defense grid that lay underneath the walls and eyes of the citizens of Mordraband Primus. Their objective nearing every second, resistance was thin but determined, unfortunately for the traitor guardsmen determination was not enough to deter the Space Marines.

       Fighting was confined within the tight corridors of the gate house and Uzziel lead since he did not have a jump pack slowing him down. His precognitive mind warning him of the traps of the enemy and alerting his comrades before they could be sprung. Finally the squad reached a the lowest levels of the gatehouse. The room was surprisingly empty, this struck Uzziel as odd but he quickly assumed the operators must have left to defend the station and were all ready taken care of. Taking in the situation Uzziel quickly spied what he was looking for, the control panel for the gate complex.

       He moved towards the electronic panel that would release the gate and with a quick blessing to the Omnissah began flicking through the buttons and dials to open the gates for his Host. A blaring red rune came into existence only moments after Uzziel began his ministrations, it declared the gate sealed and the safety locks in place.

 

     'How could this be?' Thought the Epistolary to himself

 

   The assault sergeant noticed the red glare emanating from the panel and approached Uzziel.

 

     "What delays us Brother, the Host is waiting?"

 

     "We will get no further without a Techmarine, the operators of the complex seem to have had the foresight to lock down the gate"

 

     "There must be something else we can do, I made sure to leave the Carillon with melta charges, perhaps a concentrated burn..."

 

     "No Brother Sergeant I am afraid you would be wasted the resource, those gates are meters thick, constructed by hands once loyal to the Emperor, hands that knew the dangers of the galaxy"

 

     "Damn these wretches, they have chained us here then?"

 

   Uzziel was trying to think, trying to decide what his next course of action should be, inform the Captain, fade into the darkness, begin guerrilla operations while the Host begins the siege, how had he not seen this before hand?

 

     "Chains...." said Uzziel simply to himself

 

     "Brother?" asked the Assault Sergeant.

 

     "The counterweights! Quickly Sergeant" shouted Uzziel lunging into action.

 

   The squad followed suit as they muscled their way deeper into the apparently empty complex, this nagged at Uzziel as well. Where were the reinforcements? Someone should have arrived by now to alert the city that the invaders had penetrated the walls. He forced these thoughts from his mind pushing himself to concentrate on the task at hand.

   Uzziel and the squad soon found themselves in a massive chamber full of working gears and cogs. Metal discs turned in immense complexity and the room was full of dust, ash and roar of heavy machinery. 

 

     "Brother Librarian!" came a shout from one of the battle brothers as he pointed the tip of his chainsword towards the ceiling and the massive chain that hung from it, the rungs of which were the thickness of a mans arm.  

   

     "Target affirmed, squad concentrate fire on the chain" pointed Uzziel.

 

    As one the squad aimed bolt pistols at the chain and opened fire, training their shots on a centralized point with this Uzziel turned to the chain opposite and calling upon his wings once more he sprang into the air force sword at the ready. The assault squad's bolt pistols concentrated fire shredded the integrity of the rung at which they aimed and it snapped after a few moments of fire. Uzziel flew up and with a broad stroke, struck the rung of his chain the blade cutting neatly through the second chain. 

   There was a great roaring and clanging and then the floor was pounded from beneath as if a titan sized blow had struck. Cogs and gears began to fall from the high ceilings, small at first but growing in size like some nightmare metallic hail storm. They tinkered down but as they grew their notes grew more bass until whole wheels of metal the size of a Rhino transport were falling causing great peals that shook the walls of the Hive. 

    The squad sprang for the exit but it was quickly crushed under the crumbling walls that piled their weight upon the destruction of the chamber. Just when the moment seemed darkest Uzziel's eye was caught by the a beam of light that flowed through a crack in the great chambers upper levels. It was their only hope. 

    Calling upon his psychic reserves once again and this time feeling the strain of doing so, thick beads of sweat formed on Uzziel brow and the half heard cackles of the denizens of the warp could be heard through the mantra he muttered to himself in preparation.

 

         "Follow me Brothers!" shouted Uzziel.

 

    With a burst the wings, constructed by the power of Uzziel's mind, cracked from his back like a gunshot and he leapt into the air the phantasmic pinions propelling him upwards his mind focused on their continued existence as well as searching with his gift of prescience to dodge the falling mechanism's of the gatehouse.

    Uzziel darted and dodged ever upward sometimes using his armoured boots and hands to propel him away from the next piece of falling debris. The light was growing ever brighter and filling Uzziel's vision. The gatehouse was being torn apart by the destruction of the carefully balanced weight system of the massive gates which even now could be heard swinging open even as they were being torn down.

   The Assault squad followed the Epistolary, mimicking his moves, their suits armor doing the best it could the compute the appropriate burns and corrective thrusts to make in time and delivering the same results Uzziel received micro seconds in advance due to his gift. The rays of light were diminishing now, the debris falling would close the gap and bury the squad under the tons of rockcrete.

   Uzziel denied this fate pushing himself ever harder the squad behind him doing the same, burning through their promethium fuel reserves.  Finally when it seemed there was only the smallest of gaps left open to them Uzziel arrowed through the aperture the assault squad following suit their armored forms exploding from the din of the crumbling gate house into the relative calm of the dust ridden air above the wreckage. 

   There was nothing but light now although Uzziel's genetically enhanced eyes adjusted to his surroundings quickly. In the moments of suspended drift he took in the hive, great palls of smoke rose from the sunken streets, the hive clusters were defaced bearing signs of corruption and heresy and from every surface seething multitudes proceeded to writhe and revel in the destruction.

   

       Captain Uriah stood at the fore of his Host gazing at the wreckage of the gatehouse a satisfied curl on one side of his mouth. His helmet vox squawked with Epistolary Uzziel's voice.

 

           "Knight Seven, this is Codex Two Objective achieved, no casualties sustained"

   

           "Well done Codex, uploading new objectives to Seraph One, those anti air craft positions are unacceptable make the skies safe for our brothers, Codex you are free to continue to operate at your own remit Knight Seven out."

 

    Uriah terminated the link and turned to see the last of the Thunderhawks deploying their vehicle mounts switching his attention to the assembled Host he rose his fist to the sky and with a clear shout ordered them to their vehicles for deployment. The vehicles of the Blood Paladins quickly formed up their engines grumbling and belching smoke as their machine spirits awoke for battle. The tactical squads clambered up ramps and ducked through doorways into the waiting transports while behind the 'Fiery Maw' an aged but battle ready Vindicator idled alongside the newer 'Tempest Nox' a Razorback variant.

    The captain secretly bemoaned this to himself, wishing for the Baal Predator variant known amongst the scions of Sanguinius for its close range destructive power. Those however were a rarity amongst a successor chapter such as the Angels Sanctified and the ones that the chapter held were reserved for the Chapter Masters battles. To salve his misgivings he had ordered the crew of the 'Tempest Nox' to equip massive twin-linked heavy flamers from the ships armory in lieu of the standard heavy bolters. He had decided to take the 'Nox; as his transport with his hand picked members from first squad to form his body guard.

    Before Uriah ducked through the side door to board the 'Tempest Nox' he took one last look at the devastation wrought, the goal was achieved but not exactly as he planned, he knew not all plans went according to their architect's desire but his instincts told him to be careful about how he was to proceed next. Uriah like all veteran Space Marines listened to those instincts and as the hatch closed with a pressurized hiss he took up position in a rear corner where the darkness was greatest and set his mind to alternatives of an extreme measure. 

 

 

      Uzziel and the assault squad had descended upon the wreckage of the gates and the epistolary had read the orders Uriah had given the squad. They were simple and straightforward designed to shock and awe the gun crews in a systematic purge. The points of which stood out as red blips on an enlarged pict feed of the area, Uzziel noticed how Uriah had taken into effect the holes in the gun line so that the assault squad could approach each position without being aided by fire from its fellow crews.

    This would be necessary, sending assault squads to take out anti air positions was dangerous but it was the quick decapitating work required to make the skies the realm of the Astartes alone. It was the kind of action that the of the assault squads lived for since they were manned by Brothers known to lose themselves to the Thirst and often the first placement for battle brothers fresh from the Dark Ascension.

     The epistolary had to decide whether to await the main battle group and join the captain or aid the assault squads. He recalled his visions and tried frantically to parse their meanings but to no avail. He decided to stay with the assault squad his powers could aid them substantially in their coming fight his decision was made in part by the desire to rend and tear the enemies of man in a bloody frenzy.

      Uzziel's attention was returned to Uriah's column that now sped towards the ruined gates, their perch had to be abandoned and so the squad took to their jump jets and Uzziel once again called upon the powers of his mind to lift him from the great heap of rubble.

      The column quickly rushed past the outer defenses of the hive, the gunnery crews for these positions had let much of their discipline wane in the weeks of hedonistic revolution and it showed. As the Host drew within firing distance the column parted, the vehicles staggering off each other for position while the "Fiery Maw" took up position at the head of the column.

 

         " 'Maw', Knight Seven, You may fire when ready" said Uriah without even lifting his eyes from the scrolling data that scrolled down his visor.

 

     The data was endless, strategic data, loss inventory, population records. Uriah was weighing the life of this planet in the balance, worlds with breathable atmosphere's were unfortunately rare. Even ones where the atmosphere is complete toxicity are prized possessions and while Uriah did not have the authority to commit what he was contemplating those nerves within him were firing on every spectrum for Uriah. He finally made his decision as the first round from the 'Maw' fired. Recalling the Chapter Masters words to him before he had left, Uriah remembered his duty to these people, that among the hordes who had turned there were a faithful few. Those who did not turn their back, those who prayed even now to the Emperor for salvation.

     If those souls did not in fact exist than the planets strategic value was absolute nonetheless, its population was needed for the Astra Militarum, its factories were counted on to arm those chosen to fight and the planet co-inhabited a system that held an Adeptus Astartes homeworld. Mordraband would be spared Exterminatus, but the fire Uriah and his Host would bring to the enemies of man would rival that of the cyclonic torpedoes he would have loosed upon the planet and its inhabitants.      

    Uriah returned to the present as the first shell of the 'Fiery Maw' detonated upon the rubble of the former gate. Uriah glanced at the pict feed flickering in the darkness of the cabin.. The image though grainy and through a jade filter showed the plasmatic fires that burned white hot and reduced the rubble down to embers. After the burn out the Vindicator pushed forward its dozer blades shoving detritus to the side and making a path for the column.

   Fifth Host entered Hive Primus Mordraband with no resistance and while he did not show it behind the face mask of his Mk. VII helmet, Captain Uriah was deeply unsettled. This was a trap and he was walking his host right into it, his battle hardened mind and senses screamed at him. When the Space Marines of the convoy signaled an all clear Uriah ordered his men to deploy in battle formation. 

   The Astartes deployed in quick formation into well drilled positions each gazing into the fog of rockcrete dust that had risen up from the Vindicator blast. Uriah strode forth towards the head of the column his honor guard in tow.

     

      "Fifth Host, Gamma-Vermillion formation, Knight Two, you shall take the point, the Primarch beckons us to be vigilant."

 

   Spoke the captain through his vox helmet. The Tactical squads deployed staggering off each of their Rhino transports for cover to foil an ambushers fire. As second squad took up a light jog, which in power armor was a thundering cadence, towards the lead of the convoy.

   The Host traveled like this through abandoned hab blocks and commercia districts. The haunting emptiness and the potential for danger strangely reminded more than one battle brother of their homeworld. The only sound the distant boomings of the remaining anti air craft batteries. After forty five minutes of this Uriah requested a status update from second squad. Sergeant Asban's report was quick and concise but offered no change of perspective from what the rest of the Astartes were experiencing.

   With a thought he brought up the tactical map on his helmets view screen and blink clicked the information he needed about his assault squads. They were performing the duties he had assigned them efficiently there was no need to hinder them with a vox transmission, he could see their vitals and all were nominal.

   Just then Uriah's vox crackled into life.

 

       "Captain Uriah you are going to need to see this."

 

    It was Asban from his position ahead of the column and his voice sounded grave. Ordering a halt and drawing his bolt pistol Uriah moved with speed towards second squad, his honor guard swooping to form a fence around the commander as he jogged forward. Uriah quickly passed the lead Rhino and the squad that stood at the ready around it to see that the column was bound for an underground tunnel that passed beneath the superstructure of this hive cluster.

   No light emanated from the tunnel, telling Uriah of the distance of which it must have spanned. He passed beneath the its wide arches and as he did so he noted the defaced statuary of long dead saints of the planet. After a few moments of travel within the tunnel Uriah was forced to engage his thermal sights. Second squad quickly stood out in his vision as painted silhouette's of color and Uriah made his way to them quickly.

 

       "What have you seen Brother Sergeant?"

 

   Asked Uriah of Asban his external voxcasters dimmed so that his voice only carried across the Host frequency. Asban motioned to one of his newer recruits, one whose backpack carried the spot lumen, and the Astartes quickly activated it and turned so that it shone ahead except it did not illuminate the tunnel.

   Where the beam should have pressed ahead revealing the tunnel its light stayed in a tight circle as if blocked by something. Uriah's transhuman eyes quickly adjusted from the change of thermal sights to take in the horror before him. Packed tightly like meat in a munitorum ration can bodies of the Mordrabani citizenry filled the tunnel like some barbaric barrier.

   Righteous anger rose within Uriah at this affront, the malcontents who had come to this planet were to blame for this he raged within himself they had led a weak populace astray with promises of libertine freedom and release from the endless demands of Imperial rule. The Imperium demanded because of such as this thought Uriah to himself and then he crushed it all, all but the anger that he let that simmer, while he put his mind to the matter at hand.

   The enemy was herding him, they were being led to a point within the Hive yet to be determined, Uriah had to call the assault squads back. There were too many unknowns now. They were not dealing with just a rebellious citizenry, the rot Uriah had suspected from the beginning was showing its face. Something about that report stood out to Uriah when it crossed his desk within the fortress monastery.

  An Imperial vessel suffering a catastrophic reactor meltdown where life boats had been deployed and had made planet fall, only to be found empty. It was the type of highly suspicious thing that lingered within the Captains mind years after it had happened. He had watched Mordraband from a distance even going as far as to ensure an increased Adeptus Arbites prescense on the planet but to no avail.

   Uriah quickly noticed a body pulled from the mass that lay at Asban's feet.

       "There's more Brother Captain"   said Asban as he took a knee, the servo motors and fibre bundles of his armor humming and groaning as he did so.

    The corpse had been a man and the clothes he had worn were fairly standard for Imperium citizenry save that they were torn, intentionally it seemed, about the torso to reveal the flesh underneath. Likewise it seemed as if the man had splashed, rather messily, expensive dyes about his person turning the muted greys and browns so common to a a citizen of his station into a riotous affront for the eyes.

    The Sergeant quickly snatched up the corpses left forearm and held it into the light of the spot lumen revealing the fresh and particularly gruesome brands upon the corpses flesh. Ancient symbols from mankind's birth were burned into the mans flesh, stars and circles, yet the one that stood out foremost was upon the back of the mans hand. A symbol meaning the transgression of all sins, a symbol that meant no boundary was sacred and no lie too grand to tell. The servants of the Dark God Slaanesh had indeed come to Mordraband.

 

 

 

      Uriah stomped from the tunnel entrance and as he did so he opened a private channel to the Sergeants of his company, Chaplain Ocran's armor entitled him automatically into this transmission frequency so Uriah had no need to include him, he also had no ability to stop him.

 

             "Brothers the Arch enemy is here we enact the protocols that are the privilege of our Host"
 

     At this skull helm of the chaplain turned to regard Uriah from a distance, its eerie reflection upon him seemed to judge the Captain's demeanor. Uriah brushed this aside from his mind quickly re-organizing his priorities into the present.  He was not under trial, not yet anyway.

 

             "Brother Captain, you should address the men themselves of this threat" was Ocran's reply across the command frequency Uriah had established.

 

             "I had hoped you would do the honors Brother" was Uriah's quick reply his attention only half there as he quickly conferred with a Battle Brother carrying the nearest Auspex.

 

             "Very well" replied the Chaplain and if there was a hint of displeasure it couldn't be heard over the vox.

 

     Just then the glare of an alert chime notifying Uriah that his armor's vox unit had been superseded as had the entire Host's. Uriah snorted through his nose and the coals of an anger most black were once again stoked within him. As they always had been with the coming of every battle the captain had ever been in.

 

              "Brothers of the Fifth, you have no doubt heard the rumors, and if you have been paying attention to my sermons then you must know what this has all been building too. The Arch Enemy desires this world, but I tell you now." 

 

  At this point the Chaplains voice began to reverberate with emotion, his passion for oratory not dimmed by the electronic means by which he spoke. 

              

              "Whatever dark power has decided to make its play for this world the Emperor has denied them, he has denied them because we are here, because we exist to serve the Emperor and by his grace and omnipotence we go where we wills and we slay who he wills."

 

     Uriah watched the effect the Chaplain's oratory was having on his men, there were nods of assent and grunts of approval coming from breather grilles even though they did not brake their vigilance. Some men became visibly agitated little quirks the likes of which may have been a tick in the neck causing a brother to look like he experienced a minor spasm these men often carried themselves in an aggressive hunch. While others stiffened, their poses becoming those like that of what an artist might try to capture as a Space Marine's most noble ideals.

     Captain Uriah knew each man and knew what each meant, some fell, some resisted. Those further along the dark path, those who began to revert to old hive ganger traditions and rituals like the tics were always the ones closest to the Primarch's Curse. They did so much to hide who they were, arraying themselves in jewels and ivory, their bodies transfigured into a mirror of their noble primogenitor.  But each man was the son of a killer for only the sons of killers and murderers were ever strong enough to survive the trials of Tortosa.

 

 

                "Turn your thoughts to the Primarch in this dark time, he is our light and our salvation from the blackness. In Sanguinius' name we do this, HIs wings shield us."

 

       The chaplain finished and the men were visibly moved by his speech. A chaplain that belonged to the heritage of the Primarch Sanguinius was duty bound to warn his brothers of the Rage and to watch for its signs. Although their presence amongst the men could be argued as bringing about such tidings. 

 

       It was at this moment that a damaged servo skull appeared from the upper levels it hovered haphazardly downward its anti gravitic jets sputtering marking its descent in lazy circles. It came to a crooked stop a meter above Captain Uriah's head,  one eye held a glowing ember of a camera lens and from its machinery it completed an identity scan of the captain. Upon completing the servo skull emitted a welcoming tone signifying an incoming transmission. The eye sputtered into brighter light and sparks flew from the opposing empty socket that glared at an angle.

       From the glowing red eye a projection emerged before the captain, it was slightly off center like the skull but the image upon clearing was the unmistakable form of baroque power armor.

 

             "Welcome cousins to Mordaband my new home and unless you turn from your Corpse God and accept the embrace of the Prince of Excess this place will devour you, I will devour you."

 

             "Never, name yourself Blasphemer so that we might mark your name amongst our annals of conquest."

 

        Replied the captain, and as he did so the dark shadow stepped into closer view, his armor was baroque with cruel barbs and chains that dangled about his shoulders. The face was drawn and thin as if starved yet loose strips flesh could be seen hanging from his teeth as if he had only recently finished eating something gamey.

 

             "I am Shantar, ruler of Mordaband and this world will be the beachhead from which I rebuild my chapter a--"

 

       With this the Captain blew out the defiled servo skull with a shot from his bolter and turned to his aged friend Nurien.

 

             "See that the Thunderhawks maintain a perimeter within the no fire zone we have created for them. I would not see us without our air support."

 

             "Yes captain, what of Seraph squad?"

 

             "Arrange pickup from the Umbra Sanguinius" I want them able to redeploy at notice"

 

      The Veteran Sergeant nodded and began to carry out the captain's orders. The Umbra Sanguinius was the Host's Stormraven Gunship, Uriah had been holding it in reserve in high orbit. Now it and its crew would help him cleanse the Hive of Mordraband Primus. Uriah smiled darkly at this imagining the blood that would flow in the streets, when one of ships high powered fusillades would kill crowds of...

 

             'The Thirst is awakening within me' thought the captain to himself.

 

     With a deep breath he began to recite the litanies of control taught to him by the brothers of the chaplaincy. It was then that great drums in the distance began to take up a heavy rhythmic beat. The brothers of fifth host all stood a little more alert at this, though the enemy had not shown himself as of yet other drums began to sound their tattoo. All around them a riotous beating sensation felt even in their primary and secondary hearts.

     The captain opened his air vents in defiance of the chaplaincy's standing order for brothers to always use their suits breather systems. When he did he inhaled deeply, fire, fire and sweat were coming. He resealed his suits armor and tasted yet again the stale air of the suit. Uriah turned and he spied the Chaplains gaze upon him again. The sinister skull eyes of his helmet burning a sickly emerald. 

      Angels Sanctified were under strict orders to maintain their suits breather integrity at all times so as to aid in resisting the Thirst. There had been many, incidents in the past and the Chaplains were ever on guard to ensure the secretes of the Chapter were never revealed to any outside The Blood. Spurred into action Uriah ordered the Host into a guarded circle taking cover behind their vehicles in the wide subterranean square at the mouth of the tunnel.

     Out of the darkness of their vision's limits poured thousands of hivers, they came in hordes bearing torches and crude weapons. They came from all directions, their flesh was dirty and scarred and their clothes were dyed like those of the bodies stuffed in the tunnel in vibrant shades of blue and purple. Mutants ran amok amongst them some beaten like dogs for amusement others being a part of those who amused themselves. They danced and reveled to the beat of the drums that grew ever louder lost it seemed in the ecstasy of the moment.

     Above the revelers mutated cherub servitors drunkenly hovered. Yet Uriah noticed instead of incense burning from their censures a pinkish mist lightly flowed from their instruments that fell like ephemeral dust upon the crowd. Some form of narcotic thought Uriah to himself, as his own gen hanced body pumped its own natural stimulants into his system hyping his senses to the extraordinary. 

     Just as the hivers had come into view the lights of the entire hab block began to shut off street by street. Fifth Host was shrouded in darkness but their senses were not dulled.

     

           "Illuminators to the fore!" bellowed Uriah over the incoming din. 

 

     Brothers with the lumen spots upon their back packs were precious few so most lighting came from the Rhino transports lights.

 

           "Shadow sight" spoke the captain to himself and his armor responded changing his suits eye lenses for night vision.

 

     Looking around the lights of the convoy did little to expand their vision but the torches of the enemy were all the Astartes needed. Opening his command vox link to the entire Host the captain spoke.

   

           "Engage at range brothers, let the light of the Primarch guide you in this time."

         

   With this the captain picked the first of his targets, a torch bearer and the cluster of hivers that now clinged to their only sources of light, and fired. His rounds exploding into the crowd of cultists their cries punctuating the tattoo of the drums. With this the Host opened fire and all around them the dark lit up in flashes of light. Cultists and Astartes both bellowing war cries as the hordes rushed upon the battle brothers.  

  

 

     Uzziel and the assault squad had doubled back the way they had come careful to stay within the bounds of the anti aircraft positions that still operated. Sergeant Sotiris had proven himself a capable and commendable leader. Uzziel did not regret admitting this to himself, he hoped his actions this day would be an agent of change for his brotherhood and how they were perceived by their peers. The chapter needed good men like Mendrion and it needed them to trust in the Librarius, they were the ones who witnessed the chapters fate if not decide it. Now all Uzziel witnessed were the runes of fifth Host on his helmet's view screen.

   Casualties were minimal but the Host was sealed were they were for now. Between the pressing mobs of cultists and great obstacles of trash and detritus deliberately placed and then set aflame by the crazed heretics, extraction would be hard fought.

   Uzziel saw this from a perch high atop one of the many hab spires, the Assault squad similarly spread out amongst other outcroppings of gargoyles or balustrades. It was then that his vox crackled to life and he noticed a new rune amongst the small battlefield display within his helmet.

 

           "Seraph One, this is the Umbra Sanguinius coming in for approach now are you prepared for extraction brother?"

 

           "We are prepared Umbra, Seraph out" and with this Sergeant Sotiris cut the link

 

          "Think we are leaving too soon Sergeant?" Asked Uzziel letting the warmth of a chuckle into his voice.

 

           "Yes Brother Librarian, I do, the Host needs us, the captain needs us."

 

           "The captain has deemed us for another use" said the Epistolary

 

           "What use is circling the battle field from on high and not engaging the enemy" lamented the Sergeant

 

           "We will not be on high for this Brother Sergeant, of this have no fear" finished Uzziel as the gunship swooped in from above engines screaming a high blast as its thrusters re-aligned for a hovering position.

 

         If the Sergeant Sotiris looked confused his helmet hid it, and he followed Uzziel's short leap into the open cabin that had presented itself to the squad.

 

 

       Battle Brother Talial and second squad had just enough time to take cover behind the Tempest Nox when the cultists hordes came rushing in. They took turns springing from cover to blast those dregs unfortunate enough to storm the position of the Razorback. It's heavy flamer blazed lighting up the area with each deadly swathe. The smell of cooked flesh was rank but the brothers of the Fifth ignored it remaining sealed within their suits of armor.

         Talial stood behind Zechriah who crouched each peering from their vantage behind the cover of the Nox. Talial had made a conscious effort to watch over his new squad mate, ensuring the Rage did not take him and the Thirst stayed locked away as was the decree. 

 

           "They throw themselves upon our guns brother, it is..." he trailed off as he fired a burst into a cultist his body exploding messily.

 

            "A waste Brother Zechriah, it is a waste of human potential." Answered Talial for him, not wishing the Chaplain to overhear and bring his judgement further upon the squad.

 

            "Verily brother" said Zechriah.

      

     Talial blew apart another cultist who had strayed into his firing line then gritted his teeth as time seemed to stop and his genetically enhanced vision picked out each ruby droplet. He watched the bloody mist of the heretics passing caught in the firelight of the heavy flamers and he was thirsty. 

     His mouth was thick with saliva from the combat drugs his body and armor were pushing into him, he sipped from his helmets water dispenser but to no avail. It washed away his viscous saliva but the fire that burned in the back of his throat blazed on abated. It was then that he heard a great whine of engines. From the darkness of an adjacent street the Umbra Sanguinius broke like an angry bird of prey. Its spot lumens burned bright highlighting a large portion for the Battle Brothers to take advantage of.

     The dropship turned abruptly and from its spine an armor glass cupola could be seen. Talial watched as the battle brother inside spun up the twin linked assault cannons and then they fired. Within the confined space their noise was deafening, sputtering red hot rounds that tore through several ranks of cultists before embedding themselves finally within the rockcrete of the street and buildings. 

     Amid the cacophony and death a second gunship lowered itself on screaming jets, a Thunderhawk that slowed long enough for its forward ramp to lower a few meters from the ground. From the ramp Sanguinary Priest Imlohai lightly jumped, landing in a fighters stance his bolter drawn the Priest began to fire and advance under the cover of the two gunships.

     Within moments he had crossed the divide amid the streaming channels of blood that now filled the streets, filling the gutters like a hellish rainwater. The Sanguinary Priest was more than a veteran of warfare his quick gaze showed him those who needed his ministrations as a healer, dispensing balms to the wounded and resealing armor that had been penetrated with a quick set ceramite gel. In the many hours of fighting Brother Isander had fallen, the victim of stray stubber rounds that caught his neck severing the carotid arteries, not even his trans human body could save him. Imlohai quickly performed his duty. He cut through the armor of the fallen battle brother with the aid of his Exsanguinator and removing the progenoid organs quickly sucking the vital tissue up into the specialized Narthecium on his forearm. 

      It wasn't long before he had made his way to the captain's position and as he did so he marched directly up to Uriah as if to formerly address him even as stubber rounds and las fire cracked over head.

 

          "Brother Captain, this battle will be a protracted one, Emperor willing we will cleanse this hive but can even his beneficence outquick the Primarch's Curse?"

 

          "What are you saying Priest?" Asked Uriah as he fired more bolt shells into the oncoming cultists lines that had yet to breach the Astartes gun line.

   

          "I would enact the rite of my office, the rite of Battle Communion." Replied the Sanguinary Priest his stance unchanged as if he knew nothing would touch him.

 

         "You cannot do that!" Seethed Chaplain Ocran as he stomped across the street to the captain's position.

  

         "You must wait until the hour of curse has drawn near so saith the Testament of Tristian."

 

     Continued the chaplain as he almost distractedly paced several bolt rounds into a trio of cultists that got too near his gaze. Their numbers thinned by the slaughter of the gunships they had begun to turn and skitter into the darkness of alleyways and further streets. At this Imlohai reached up to his neck and released the seals of his helm.

     The Sanguinary Priest's aged face was revealed and he in turn ground his humming ivory armor till he was face to face with the chaplain's skull helm.

      

         "Think you, me some novitiate Brother Chaplain? Think you know the Testament better than any? You will remember than that ultimately the discretion is mine, I have have served the Emperor and the Chapter for nigh five hundred years, The Flaw is not some predictable thing, it is flowing inside us ever looking to turn us from the light. You will remember that you are Brother Chaplain Ocran, guardian against the Rage. You will remember I am Sanguinary Priest Imolohai keeper of the Thirst."

    

     With this Imlohai retrieved a golden grail from a red velvet pouch at his waist. The Chapter never had such glorious keepsakes as the grails of their parent chapter. Yet their grails sufficed, for it was what they held within them that was penultimate taught the Priests. The grail was gold inlaid with ivory and ruby gems.

     All coming from their home planet and forged by their master artisans within the Techmarine ranks. The stem of these vessels carried miniature force shields to keep the liquid from ever spilling and rows of spikes to draw the blood of the one who held it. Removing his gauntlet the Sanguinary Priest let his blood fill the cup to the brim.

     In his veins flowed the blood of the Primarch, preserved for millennia within his sons of the Sanguinary Priesthood as living vessels the blood was passed from generation to generation even unto the foundings that would come after the fall of the Primarch Sanguinius. Raising the grail high and lifting his voice he addressed the Host.

 

           "Brothers, I Sanguinary Priest Imlohai do for this communion and here after release you of your vows of resistance. Remove your helms and drink of the Vitae Sanguinous, gird yourselves for the coming fight, I have seen the darkness of Rage within you and I tell you now it shall not claim you, if you hold fast to the Primarch, hold fast to the teachings of Tristian, and drink of this cup."

   

    At this he began to move from squad to squad passing the cup, each brother unsealing his helmet and removing it to drink from the grail.

 The Chaplain only glowered the pale jade fire of his helm's eye lenses burned at Imlohai but he did nothing. When the Sanguinary Priest reached the command squad, last to drink the chaplain denied but watched as Captain Uriah took the last dregs.

   

           "You would do better to have faith in your Primarch and his wisdom, it was he that created the Priesthood."

 

           "You're Priesthood was not created in the Primarch's image Brother Imlohai, you would do better to remember that. As for me, I have faith in the Emperor and He is all I need" replied Ocran

 

           "Yours truly is a lonely order, I pity you Ocran" replied Imlohai as he turned to go.

 

           "Lonely indeed when it is I who will have to put some of these men in chains and bear them back to the Tower on the homeworld."

 

      Said the chaplain at the priests back but Imlohai had already dismissed him and was now moving to a priest's designated position towards the rear of the column.

 

         Within minutes the Host was reformed and once again moving through the darkness. It seemed whoever had darkened the lights of one hab block had apparently done the same to the entire hive. It was complete blackness cut only by the lights of the convoy and the occasional flare of bolter fire as cultists attempted to mob the Astartes in hidden choke holds. It went on like this for hours blunt blade work and close quarters fighting the Astartes carving an inevitable path to the center of the Hive and the governors palace. Captain Uriah at the fore front his honor guard in tow like some hero of legend his Host behind him.

     Wherever Chaplain Ocran went Battle Brothers fought with a repressed rage that made them undeniable when dispensing their lethal arts. Wherever Sanguinary Priest Imlohai went the Astartes were stirred into a blood fury that lead them to carve the mortal cultists up with their blades. The Battle Brothers letting the blood flow over and through their breather grills and into their open mouths now that the sanctions against the Thirst had been lifted and their armors seals opened to the world around them. Fifth Host drank deep of the blood of Mordraband Primus in the darkness.

     The fires of the Tempest Nox burned whole swathes of heretics the charnel smell of cooked meat traveling with the convoy as they burned and broke their way finally to the darkened Governors palace. Their air support had long lifted back into the safe zone but Uriah was still in transmission range with them and that is when he ordered the Assault Squad into action.

     Uriah took the pace up the stairs with his honor guard leaving Veteran Sergeant Nurien to organize the vehicles into a cordon around the grand plaza entrance of the palace. Fifth Host followed their captain up the grand processional and the broken littered steps of the palace only to find more rot and filth. Uriah caught the stink of rotted flesh and excrement and did his best to ignore it as did his warriors. They passed beneath the domed roof of the entrance way and began to move through the building at pace finding nothing but half eaten corpses and the signs of a many riotous and extravagant parties being held in the recent past.

      The captain tried not to think what kind of revelry could exist when the dead layed rotting at your feet. Such was the way of Chaos he concluded to himself. It was then a shriek intrurrpted the tomb like silence of the palace, it had come from the upper stories and Uriah made to move up the stairs when the cries came again only now they echoed down the empty halls from all around the Space Marines.

      They reverberrated throughout the structure their sound passing like unseen wraiths around the battle brothers and as they passed they left a chill of the grave in their wake that upset shrouded curtains and knocked the defiled busts of past Imperial governors from their perch. The corpses began to spasm in the prescence of the wailing cries their forms beginning to crack and groan.

     Their flesh seemed to melt and reform, skin tissue and fat flowing into new skin. They began to stand up and shake off their disgusting garments their forms taking on pleasing lithe shapes. The new pink skin now darkening to a purple shade the forms solidified before the Astartes very eyes all of this happening in seconds. 

 

       "Deamon!" bellowed Chaplain Ocran before the first form closest to him could even finish taking shape.

     

      The chaplains Crozius Arcanum came smashing down upon where the head had begun to form and his weapon pulped the skull of the warp beast sending purple black ichor streaming about the chamber. Battle Brothers sprung into action but it was too late to follow the chaplains example the forms finished their grotesque transformation and had begun to spin, pirouette and cartwheel out of harms reach.

     Battle Brothers closer to the entrance opened fire in close proximity hoping to hem the creatures in for their peers to drag down but the daemonettes were clever, cruel creatures and they lead the shots perilously close so that the cover fire had to be stopped for fear of striking a brother. Fighting broke out across the grand entrance way as more of the corpses convulsed into disturbing life, soon the Host was fighting for its life each squad an island amidst a sea of warp flesh.

     Uriah and his honor guard fought on the stairs blade to claw with the enemy.

 

         "Sanguinius flay your immortal remains!"

 

     Bellowed Uriah as he drove his power sword to this hilt in a daemonette's abdomen, his other hand held the monstrous claw at bay as the beast died a hateful luster in its eyes. Withdrawing his sword he tilted his head as listening to an unheard voice he then yelled down the stairs his voice amplified by his vox casters. 

 

         "Keep moving Brothers!"

 

         He then turned and began to make his way up the stairs once more, Fifth host moved in tow killing on the run.

 

         "Keep them going upward Nurien, we need to rally with Seraph squad." 

 

     Uriah said into his vox as he cut the arm from a daemonette and danced around her enraged counter attack, a wicked looking barb held within a infinitely delicate hand cut for Uriah's throat. The captain was forced to dodge a series of jabs, the creature no less at a loss for balance since her elongated claw arm had been sheared off.

     Finally the creatures rage at his continued existence made an opening and with a powerful slice at the forearm took off the daemonettes other arm at the elbow. The dagger fell to the steps and black ethereal flames guttered out the creature screeched in anger and frustration and Uriah grabbed it by its foul hair and drove his sword into its screaming mouth. 

      Twisting the blade free and taking the top half of the monsters skull in his hand he turned and roared to his warriors below the dripping skull held aloft for them to see. They roared back their kills growing ever more like the quick brutal blade work of an underhive ganger. Uriah dropped the head and turned once again to ascend the stairs. His sword at the ready as foul blood was burned from its edge but dripped from the gauntleted hand that had held the gruesome trophy.

 

 

         Uzziel felt the growing psychic pressure beneath his feet like a massive boiler about to explode his brothers had indulged themselves freely upon the blood of their enemies getting here and if the Epistolary was to be honest with himself he had as well. They heard the Sanguinary Priests announcement and while they did not take part in his communion they held sacrament when they departed the Stormraven.

   The Assault Squad and Uzziel had landed upon the roof of the governors palace and they had once again begun the process of killing their way down, it was upon a lost and wretched lot of cultists still bearing remnants of the PDF uniforms that they had bled and drunk from. The traitors had thought proximity to the chambers of Lord Shantar would protect them. Uzziel gleaned this from the blood and help from his psychic senses, he was close to the traitors lair. 

 

       

           +Keep them moving upwards, we have found Shantar, moving to engage.+

 

     The Epistolary sent this to Uriah and led the assault squad to the end of the hallway where two great doors of ironwood stood. The gold chased doors glistened in the darkness and Uzziel pushed them open with a heavy shove. What awaited him on the other side he hoped was the culmination of his visions. 

[BruvaTrav]

                               The final push to the summit of the Governor's Palace was the stuff of legend. Captain Uriah lead his Host up the grand processional stairs and gilded hallways from the front, his power sword burning with a deep crimson light as it cut horrors borne from a nightmare realm under the friscalating unlight of the warp that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at once.

     The purplish hue painted the deep crimson of the Paladins in a wine color that seemed wrong, perverse. Ever at the forefront of the Captain's mind was Uzziel's last message, he grasped onto it and forcing it to keep the blackness that burned within him at bay.

     Fighting the neverborn always brought the Primarch's Curse roaring to the fore, as if the ancient genetic memory recognized the taint of chaos and roared for its destruction. 

             When the Host finally reached the summit, a grand ballroom meant for the high ranking nobles of Mordraband to gather and fritter away their long evenings while the worker class toiled night and day the concept of such things lost to them. The ballroom was an abattoir, the atmosphere bespoke with finery was smothered under months old blood and the rotting corpses of the dead.

     The bodies ranged from menials and workers to the aristocracy of the nobles that belonged in these halls, some were decrepit husks where bone shone through, while others were more fresh swarms of maggots still writhing in the wounds that caused their death. They shared a similar trait, they all looked to have been ravaged, by some carnivorous beast more accustomed to the sands of the Angels Sanctified home world than in the gilded halls of the palace. 

              In the center of the room battled Seraph squad with the Chosen of Shantar. The warband's leader fought Epistolary Uzziel himself, Shantar was a man transformed a thick coat of sweat covered his brow while a hungry grin belied the exertion writ upon his features. His armor had transformed melding into his transhuman form so that every muscle was replicated on the ceremite. A dark rune, the symbol of Slaanesh, burned at his waist with a jealous hue.

     Uzziel would have slain the traitor by now but he was marked by the enemy and the Champion was using every second of gained speed against the Librarian. Uzziel's premonitions came bare seconds before the mark struck and he was quickly pushed into the defensive with Shantar closing the gap between premonition.

     Uriah could see the Librarian was on the defensive and he moved to intercede on the psyker's behalf but Uzziel waved him away, the duel had begun to interfere would bring dishonor. Instead the Captain ordered the room secure while the combatants finished their fight. The Host divided itself, one half guarding the entrance with bolter and flamers while the other holsters their bolters and drew knives and chain weapons prepared to kill the traitors should the assault squad fail. 

     Uzziel could feel the fight turning against them and decided to act, with a counter stroke he bought himself precious seconds where the champion was forced to dodge the strike. In those moments time seemed to slow to a standstill Uzziel called upon powers he knew of but were not his forte. They were taught to him in the earliest days of his training, secrets from the Chapter Librarius never to be shared with outsiders.

     Using the warp he touched the minds of Seraph Squad and with a grace borne from trepidation, pulled at the black threads woven into each of his Battle Brothers gene code. Uzziel pulled drawing the threads about him until they all resided within his outstretched gauntlet. The act done time resumed and the black ribbons wrapped about Uzziels hand seemed to fade.

    Shantar was about to leap for the killing stroke when the maddened bellow of an Assault Marine drew his eye. The Astartes had ripped his helmet free his face bare to the warplight of the chamber, in the violet hue his pale features were cast a sickly purplish blue. The Battle Brothers fangs were bared having fully descended in his psyker influenced fury and he charged his opponent batting aside the traitors chain axe the Astartes barreled into the traitor marine knocking him to the floor.

   The Angel pummeled his opponents helmeted face with his gauntlets until the eye lenses cracked and the metal of the helm began to buckle with huge ugly dents. Blood seeped from the helm of the traitor and began to drip from his armor to the floor beneath him pooling about his backpack. 

    Shantar returned his gaze to the psyker seemingly impressed as similar fates became of his Chosen warriors, the traitor opened his mouth to speak but stopped when he realized the eyes of the Librarian streamed with black light. Gone were the pale blue orbs that had regarded him with restrained fury, now darkness streamed from the psykers gaze and Shantar felt the heat of it.

    With an incomprehensible roar the Librarian charged his force sword before him, cutting great arcs through the air that left warp light burning in its passage. The blade hummed past Shantar and it was he now using all his preternatural gifts to avoid the strikes of Uzziel.

    Assured the fight was still a duel among champions Shantar paid no heed to the Assault Marines of Seraph squad who had finished brutalizing their opponents. They now looked to him with the same burning blackness in their eyes and began to close in.

                With a flash of warplight the chamber erupted with sound and fury, a hurricane gale blew through the chamber blowing out the windows and setting the heavy curtains that had hung rippling in the false winds. From a coalescing light of unreality stepped Zagreus, Apostate of the Promiscuous Truth.

      How his title was known to all within the room but having never said it put down as a trick of the newly opened warp rift that announced his presence. The Sorcerer took in the room his gaze falling upon Shantar

 

            "You were always a fool Shantar, the Dark Prince renounces you and your works, he finds your faith unworthy but he is a caring god and gifts you this last boon."

 

      With his arm outstretched the Sorcerer aims his staff at Shantar and harsh luminescence pours from the sigil at its head. The light engulfs Shantar and with a roar while flesh and ceramite are scoured away from the tidal wave of warp energy. The light ends and the Sorcerer lowers his staff his baleful gaze turns to Captain Uriah.

 

            "This was but a test, a trial of worth, and you have proven yourself thusly, my mistress is pleased with the blood you have shed and would lead to your more."

 

             "I shed blood for the Imperium and for the Emperor, I don't do it for folly or massacre, or to please your foul deities." Bellowed Uriah as he stomped to the fore preparing to face the Sorcerer.

 

            "You are lapdogs and fools and I won't waste either of our time, the future of your chapter lies in the Baal system, My mistress will share her perfidious gospel upon the sands of Ammonai, she graciously demands the presence of your Chapter there at your earliest possible convenience."

 

           Hatred and confusion warred with Uriah's features

 

            "This is not some game, I will not forfeit the lives of my Brothers to appease your mongrel god" growled the Captain as his fangs descended as blood and saliva thick with chemical stimms ran from them.

 

            "You have no idea what it is like to be used, to be played like a regicide piece, but you will, you all will know the shame of being used and having to make do with the Dark gods."

 

            Answered Zagreus' bitterness dripping from every syllable, with a contemptous snarl he turned from the Captain and retreated back within the fold of the warp that burned behind him. As he did so he called over his shoulder

 

           "Ammonai Captain, do not tarry, my mistress is the impatient sort."

 

 

                     Uriah charged forward but the rift closed with a grotesque sucking sound, the gale ceased and the room was again quiet though the stars shone through now that the balcony windows had been blasted out. All eyes turned upon Shantar who knelt breathing unevenly, he raised his head as if to look upon those that had defeated him but his eyes were gone. They had simply been removed from his face as if his eye lids had closed and smoothed over, a hysterical cackle emanated from the ruined lips of the traitor that grew into a cacophony of demented laughter. 

 

            "Blind?"

 

       Shouted the former Champion through the laughter.

 

       He nearly fell from the laughter his hands catching him but it was then that the timbre of his laughter began to change, it became more throaty, within a few moments it lost all human characteristics of laughter and had become a chugging wet sound that rattled with the traitors chest.

      

            "Captain!" Shouted Uzziel, "Chaos Spawn!"

 

       The eidetic memory of an Astartes called forth the captains memories of such a thing. Years of hypnotherapy had ingrained within the captain, when he was an initiate, the fore knowledge that a Space Marine would need to deal with the myriad of enemies that encroached upon the worlds of man. The Chaos Spawn was the price paid for failing in the service of the dark gods, instead of being raised to immortal deamonhood the champion of chaos is turned into a gibbering freakish monstrosity.

      The presence of one on the battlefield is heralded as dire omen for even in failure the dark gods gift their servant with the power of the warp.

 

      Shantar's skin took on a slick, glistening quality that flushed a bright mauve color. Power armor squealed and popped as fibre bundle musculature exploded from its mountings. The plate began dropping piece by ruptured piece from Shantar and his genhanced body started to swell and shift unnaturally as the power of the warp took hold on Shantars' body. Eyes blinked into existence in the palms of Shantars' hands, and his grotesquely swollen shoulders. With a wet howl that issued from a jaw far too elongated Shantar charged his nearest enemies, Seraph squad.

      The squad reacted too slowly as Shantar's fingers grew into fiendish claws that dripped a purplish ichor. The Chaos Spawn cut the squad to ribbons until only Uzziel was left standing fighting a desperate battle for his life, parrying the claws that ooze warp tainted ichor. The first to react is second squad, having stood nearby blades drawn they charge this new unwholesome foe.

      Erziab lunges forward and is pierced by the bone blade he falls to the floor as Asban and Talial manuever for position. It is while Talial and Asban work together dodging and lunging with combat blade and chainsword that Erziab rises from the floor. Talial spares a glance for his brother but a sickening weight settles in his stomach.

     The baleful glare that Erziab has settled on the Chaos Spawn is one Talial has seen far too many times in his service to the Golden Throne. This is no artificial rage conjured by the Librarian, this is the truth and it is written across Erziab's features as plain as daylight. A black armored hand reaches out and takes firm hold of Erziab's pauldron. Chaplain Ocran is the owner of the hand and his skull helm is in Erziab's ear, something is said but Talial cannot catch it from the fleshy cackling of Spawn. Before Talial can react Asban is bifurcated at the waist his halves fall to the floor with a sickening thud.

     With a bellow Erziab lunges forward, the Chaos Spawn turns to face this threat it thought vanquished and performs a dual slice with its sickle blades. In mid stride Erziab throws his arms outstretched catches the sickle blades in his hands they cut ferocious wounds into the palms of his guantlets and the crimson red of Astartes blood mixes with sluggish pink warp ichor of the blades.

    Talial looks to Asban, the Sergeant's features are drawn and his pale features are almost translucent with blood loss he tosses Talial his combat blade giving his Battle Brother a knowing nod as he does so. Talial has his opening and he charges the Spawn from the side, quickly bounding off his leg and stabbing handholds in its flesh with the knives and climbing with them embedded in its warp cursed skin he is able to clamber to the shoulders of the spawn. With out a second spared Talial plunges the blades of the knives into the neck of the Chaos Spawn and begins to saw at the muscle.

    It parts unwillingly but Talial is fuelled by his anger and the potent cocktail of combat drugs pumping through his system. His arms never tire until he has brought the two blades together and with a final heroic effort forces them through what passes as a spine for the thing that once was Nero Shantar. The Spawn falls to the floor of the ball room and Talial jumps from its shoulders to land in a combat crouch. Erziab is quickly restrained by Chaplain Ocran who knocks him senseless to the floor with the butt of his crozius.

     Sanguinary Priest Imlohai steps forward from the wings of the room his first charge Sergeant Asban. The Sergeant has gone into a Sus-an Membrane coma, the blow should have ended the Sergeant that his body hung precariously still to life was testament to the biological miracle of the transhuman Astartes. 

 

    Captain Uriah's vox crackles.

 

          "Captain Uriah, this is Carillon Priority urgent"

 

          "Go ahead Carillon what is your message" Uriah vox's back.

 

         "Captain, unknown Space Hulk bearing chaos markings has entered realspace, they've begun a mass evacuation from the Hive"

 

         "Can you hold them Carillon?" asked Uriah

 

          "Negative Captain, not without sacrificing the Strike Cruiser, their tonnage far outclasses us, we would need the Invictus here to match her guns."

       

     Uriah marched for the windows now open to the hive and saw what the Strike Cruiser had been observing. Bulk carriers of varied make made hurried landings often causing minor damage to their own ships and killing many of the hives inhabitants. Still many more streamed from the underhive to fill the carriers.

 

     Uriah watched in particular as the huge Medicae center received what seemed special attention from the bulk carriers, their pilots landed with more care and the Captains transhuman eyes could pick out the forms of muscled youths bearing devotional scars and wearing form fitting loose robes bearing the mark of Slaanesh.

 

          "Does the Hulk appear to be hostile Carillon?"

 

          "Negative Captain, it appears to already be underway for the systems Mandeville point"

        

    The Captain could see the last of the bulk carriers lifting off making for the atmosphere.

 

          "Begin exfiltration protocols Carillon, I want the fifth back onboard within the hour and I want the ship ready for warp entry"

    

          "Do you need the navigators to witness it's passage and plot a course my Lord?" asked the bridge.

 

          "Negative, have them plot a course for the Chapters last known location, Uriah out."

   

    With that the Captain cut the feed and looked to his Host, they stood proud and unbroken as the light pollution of the hive glared in through the broken windows and the warp light faded from sight. The Captains gaze fell upon Uzziel

 

            "I will need a message transcribed, one that I would trust to your brotherhood alone Epistolary"

 

            "What missive would you have me send Lord Uriah?" asked the Librarian.

 

            "Inform Chapter Command of what has transpired here, and let the Chapter Master know I have found his quarry, in the Ammonai system."

 

 

 

                                                                      Epilogue

 

     Zagreus was pleased with his prize, his ranks had swollen by some ten thousands fresh souls, most of these would be meat for the grinder, or meat of a different nature. Some though, those found worthy, those with enough faith in the dark gods, those who were brutal enough, they would complete their training and receive the blessing of transhumanity.

     The Sorcerer greedily eyed the data slate proffered him by the traitor Astartes who reluctantly fulfilled the role of his chief Apothecary, the information quickly downloaded from the medicae facilities of Mordraband indicated a high amount of suitability in the cultists ranks for gene seed implementation. Zagreus had waiting for his moment, he had plotted and schemed and hid within the warp for thousands of years, hoarding every recovered progenoid gland and ordered more than a few removed from the dead of his enemies be they loyal to the throne or not.

    Now it was coming to fruition. He would raise up an army from this fodder, they would call him Lord and Master and upon their backs he would build the foundation for his ascension to godhood and freedom.

     A perverse smile spread across the Sorcerer's features as he cast his mind adrift within the myriad decks of the Space Hulk he had stolen from the ship yards of the Maelstrom. Ignoring the minds of those traitor Astartes he had likely stolen with promises of glory and whispers of his Mistress' Truth, he found his quarry, there it was, some decks below the Sorcerer's command bridge, a cultist whose particular soul burned brightly in Zagreus' mind. Leaving the bridge he made for the cultists last known location, his twin stomachs growling and drool slicking his chin.

[Brother Raul]

Awesome work, please keep writing. Love your representations of the red thirst. Heaps of cool characters. Great work!!

[BruvaTrav]

Thanks a lot man that means a lot, working on a sequel short story about the fate of Second Squad, hoping to flesh out deeper characteristics for the Chapter and their home world.

[Brother Raul]

Cmon bruva trav, still hangibg for your next installment! Will post a link in BA forums :)