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Characters:

Zso Sahaal, Captain of the 3rd Company - Lord Magnus

Brother Acharias - Company Champion, Second in Command. - Great White

Brother Adric - Forge Master, Artificer. - Admiral9

Brother Leonidas - Apothecary - TheRobotLol

Epistolary Karras Nox - Expert Psyker, Trusted Advisor - Castiel

Sergent Taric - Terminator - rockerbikie

Sergent Harper Layhe - Assault Trooper Veteran - Angry Squig

Sergent Edvard Einer - Assault Trooper Veteran - Deadshot

Brother Lucius Peris - Stealth Specialist - BlapBlapBlap

Sgt. Morias Kalvae - Tactical Marine - DarkofVoid

Sgt. Krieg "Death Speaker" Rurik - Experienced Biker - Toastedandy



"Midnight's Glory" exited the Warp near Torayo, The Imperial Army there had rebelled and forced the loyalist army of planet, and 3 days ago the Night Lords had received the message and sent the 3rd company to deal with the traitors. The rebels were a large force and held several strong defensive positions on the planet, the Night Lord's would destroy them one by one. The company had recently been named the War Shades in honor of their victory over the Orks holding a planet, not taking a single casualty by using hit and run tactics. They would make an example out of these pathetic rebels who chose to rebel against all hope, and show the rest of the galaxy what happens. Sahaal readied his weapons for the slaughter ahead, he opened the vox to the other squad leaders.
"Prepare your squads, we make planetfall in 30 minutes."

Posting Order:

Lord Magnus, Deadshot, Angry Squig, ,Great White, Admiral9, TheRobotLol, Castiel, BlapBlapBlap, rockerbikie, DarkofVoid, Toastedandy.
Everyone must post once before the order starts.

Note: If a person is offline, skip them in the posting order.

After taking inventory of the armored support i could provide for the company i walked towards the captain. I was thinking about the old days on mars about the legio tempestus on their combat patrols with their mighty titans but i arrived. I walked up to the captain and said. ''Captain i have taken inventory i can prepare 10 land speeders for the initial assault i can also provide more heavy support in the form of predators if that is needed.''

Brother Acharias prepared for the drop. He reached for his power sword, "The Night Tooth," putting at his side while holstering his plasma pistol, the blue plasma lighting up the room. Not to forget his lightning claws, jutting from his wrist, bolters on top. He stepped into the drop pod, putting his helmet on, the eyes of his helmet a glowing red. He looked over to Sahaal and nodded his head. His was ready for the carnage that was to ensure. As he strapped into his seat he thought of their mission and the honor that would be bestowed on the Night Lords for completing this mission. He was ready to bring pride to his legion. For the Night Lords, For Curze.

So, they were sending them against rebels. Marines were above this skum, but a slaughter was still a slaughter and slaughter was fun. Leonidus grasped the hilt of his archaic power sword, a field of crackling energy flickering noiselessly across its smooth surface. With a chuckle he attaches the final mag-lock of his customised skull helm, the usually black eye sockets lighting up with a blood red glow. Without a word he straps into his seat of his personal dreadclaw, countless flickering buttons and nodes lighting up with a tilt of the head, the activation and direction codes transmited instantly from helm's advanced matrixes. The thrusters powering up with a low hum, he opens the vox channel.

"Enim noctis."

For Curze, he would slay these upstart fools.

The vox crackled. "Nox, we have a new assignment. We are to put down a rebellion by some Imperial Army units on some backwater planet. Prepare yourself." The Captains voice hissed.

Nox left his trance, letting go of the psychic energies he was holding, perfecting his art.

The vox crackled. "Nox, we have a new assignment. We are to put down a rebellion by some Imperial Army units on some backwater planet. Prepare yourself." The Captains voice hissed.

"I already know." replied Karras. "I stand in Midnight clad."

"I might have known" Sahaal replied, and cut the link.

Karras rose and walked to his personal armoury. He picked up his bolt pistol and slid it into the holster on his right thigh. Next he drew his force sword, Strom Bringer. At his touch the blade began to glow an actinic blue, bolts of psychic energy playing over its blade. "Not yet." he whispered, and sheathed it on his left hip. He turned on his heel and strode from his chamber in the Librarium, heading for the briefing. It was hardly a fitting task for the Astartes of the Night Lords, but they would end this rebellion faster than any of their cousins in the other Legions could manage. That was their talent, after all.

Lucius gathered his Stalker Bolter and calibrated the scope. He needed to be completely accurate.

He enclosed himself in his Power Armour. It was one of the newest suits, the 'Maximus' pattern. It was light and easy to move in.

He put his combat blade in it's scabbard, and slipped on his chameleonic Cloak. He walked to the bridge, where he met Adric and the Captain.

"Prepped and ready, sir. They won't know what hit them!"

He walked off with the Artificer, requesting a special piece of equipment after the battle.

Harper tested his sword, taking a practiced swing.
"I am ready." He replied to the Captains vox. He went to his Dreadclaw and found his squad already waiting. This was to be fun. Rebels were rarely well-outfitted or organized, just scum.
"MARINES, PREPARE TO DROP! We will be dropping down into the main battle-lines to lead the diversion. Octavius, Marius, you will accompany me. Samhain, Jackal, you hunt any big tanks. Load up!" Harper shouted and a cheer rose from his claw as they hopped in.

Morias Kalvae knelt in his quarters, whispering a prayer to the Emperor for guidance in the coming battle. It was a quaint, personal matter - a ritual he had become accustomed to doing on the eve of battle many, many years ago. When he was done, he gripped his chainsword and held it upright, scant centimetres from his head. Quietly, he recited the Litany of Devotion.
Where there is uncertainty, I shall bring light
Where there is doubt, I shall sow faith
Where there is shame, I shall point atonement
Where there is rage, I shall show its course
My word in the soul shall be as my bolter in the field.

His ritual complete, he stood, the bulk of his armoured frame barely managing to operate within the small confines of his bland quarters. Sheathing his sword, he donned his helmet, which sealed with a hiss, before making his way to the chapel. Ever since becoming sergeant of the Ghosts of Moonlight, he had decreed that before battle the squad should spend time giving prayer to the Emperor. He knew some of his men resented it, as their legion had never been one famed for devotion. But he had done his best to stick true to the Imperial Creed; it gave him a certainty and purpose in life that little else could. It was true what the Chaplain's preached: there was no greater defence than unshakeable faith. Whilst he believed in the Emperor, he was unbreakable. He would never submit and never tire in his duties.

For that is what it meant to be an Angel of Death.

Midnights glory breezed through a stream of stars, it seemed an eternity, waiting in the dark. Drifting past a saffron-hued gas giant, the order for mobilization came.

Sgt. Krieg stood unmoving before the glorious Haggered Circle. The wait for war always effected Krieg badly. The anticipation boiled his blood and it took all his will to hold himself together before his host. Krieg struggled to forcus his sight and calm his body.
"They look to me for guidence" he thought as he looked up to his brothers.


"My brothers, prepare your engines and ready your claws, we take our wrath to the enemy, grind them under foot and wheel. Rise, Night Lords, Adeo mori servus Ave Dominus Nox "

"Ave Dominus Nox" replied the squad, as they roared their engines into life, belching fuel into the factorum.

As the Stormbird sped ovdr the planet's stratosphrere, Edvard Einer checked his weaponry. He drew his identical Power Axes, "Darkhood and Nightmonger" and placed one on each hip. Darkhood was on the right. Then he checked his Lightning Claw, Nightshredder, sliding the claws in an out quickly. He holstered the bolt pistol and turned to his squad.
"Get ready." He opened a vox chanel to the piolt, strapping on a Mk IV Jump Pack, single thruster design. "Pilot, open the assault ramp." He said in a monotonous voice. The ramp opened without a reply, and Einer took a running leap. As he reached the edge he lept, dropping several hundred feet before firing his Jump Pack, his squad spread out 10 metres apart.

His four advisers stood around him in the personalized Storm Eagle, they readied weapons and jump packs as the door slid open, below they saw a trench line full of the rebels, they prepared to drop in and begin the slaughter. Sahaal felt the wind on his face, and dropped out the front ramp into the chaos below.

Though the darkness will be rent by noise and flame
Your eternal soul will be mine to claim

Krieg slammed his palm into the side of his skull shaped helm. His head was throbbing with anticipation, his thoughts swimming as he tried to focus himself. Words formed from the pain he felt, words that sounded as old as time itself,
words he could not understand. His vision slowly became focused, his hearing slowly came back, and he was sundenly aware of his surroundings once again. They will be on the planet soon. Soon his torment will momentarly cease.

The deafinging roar of the Storm eagles engines was the only noise audiable. Even as he reved the powerful engines of the massive beast he rode on, he could not hear it. His brothers remained motionless, battling with there own demons. As is the way with the Circle.
The storm eagle dove into a canyon to avoid the primitive radar systems expected. Their target was an heavy artillery emplacement. The resistance was expected to be light, but the objective was seen to be worth the attention of 8 battle hardened gods of war.

"The slaughter will not be quick" voxed Krieg

After he finished with the Master of the Forge, Lucius found a grav-chute and put it on. He couldn't do his best in such a cramped unit. He waited until nobody was looking, and he jumped, gliding far away from the massed trenches. Lucius came down as lightly as a butterfly, hardly disturbing the thin layer of dust and dirt that covered the cracked, dried soil. He slipped off the chute, and scurried to the vantage point. He took aim through his sight, trying to distinguish between the ranks of soldiers.

Karras followed Sahaal out of the Storm Eagle. The air rushed past his face, whistling over the plates of his power armour. He extended a thin parachute of psychic energy, slowing his descent. He landed amongst the command squad, and released the energy he held with his mind. Drawing his pistol and force sword he surveyed the battlefield and the rebel scum who had thrown off the Imperial way. Along the line guardsmen fell to bolter fire from the marines, the few return shots easily absorbed by power armour. This battle would be over quickly, Karras thought.

Adric discovered lucius disappeared and saw him jumping of the dropship. He ran towards the edge of the dropship but saw that it was too late.
He returned to his duties the dropship would hit the ground in 10 minutes Adric would need to request the armored support within a damn strict time limit but that was in the future.
He checked his equipment. Power axe and plasma pistol in Adric's hand and on his servo harness he had another 2 plasma guns and some tendrils. Adric was ready to fight
He looked around and saw some marines preparing their gear. Adric could hear the plasma gun of one of them scream in pain and could see it wasn't treated as well as it should have been. He walked up to the marine and said. ''Give me that plasma gun you are not worthy of holding such a weapon.'' He threw a ordinary bolt gun at him and after fixing the plasma gun gave it to a different astartes.
The drop ship almost touched down now. The combat here would be swift but hard.
Adric heard the ship touch down and he saw the light from the sun shine down as the hatch opened up and las bolts came towards them.

Although the dreadclaw moved at an incredible speed, the thick hull prevented any trace of noise reaching his superhuman ears, while the gravitational stabilisers made the ride utterly smooth. He always traveled alone, not even his trusted bodyguard were permitted to acompany him, his Nocturnus guard were deployed to the battlefield in his secondary dreadclaw, only seconds behind him. The scanner nodes told him impact time was in 27 seconds exactly. Accessing vid links and.....ah, the rebel forces had set up perimeter nearby. They had limited heavy support but were many. The info-links told him they were armed mainly with las and auto weaponry. Utterly pathetic. No mission for marines of their level. There frail defence would be no problem. No matter their weak weaponry and artillery, they would die all the same.

"Nocturnus, prepare for incision."

,His harsh voice crackled over the vox channels.

"Primary and secondary launch procedures complete to satisfactory standard. Opening hanger bay doors," the monotone voice of a servitor droned. The massive bay doors creaked open with a rush of air as the compartment depressurized.
"Holding clamps releasing in 5...4...3...2..1."
There was an audible clack as the clamps released, and their pod hurtled to the planet below. There was a loud whoomph as the pod's engine engaged, powering them towards the planet's surface, the computer expertly guiding them to pre-set co-ordinates. His squad was tasked with being dropped right into the heard of the capital to sow as much chaos and disarray amongst the traitors as possible. Morias blinked slowly before opening his mouth to speak.
"What is your life?" He demanded. His men replied in unison.
"My honour is my life."
"What is your fate?"
"My duty is my fate."
"What is your fear?"
"My fear is to fail."
"What is your reward?"
"My salvation is my reward."
"What is your craft?"
"My craft is death."
"What is your pledge?"
"My pledge is eternal service."

He smiled. The men of the Ghosts of Moonlight were loyal, devout and proud warriors. He was honoured to serve and lead them. The ten of them were in silence for what seemed an aeon; Morias in silent contemplation of the battle ahead, when his thoughts were interrupted by a deep voice beside him.
"Once more unto the maw of the enemy."
"Aye, Haestus," he replied sombrely.
"Why is it that the captain most often picks our squad for insertion into the heart of the enemy?" His friend queried.
"Because brother," Morias wore a grim look of confidence, "We are the best men for the job. If there's an objective, we will secure it. If the enemy are as thick as oxygen on it, then we will sooner torch the air to secure our objective than take another breath without a step forward."
"That," Darius Haestus replied, "Is something I can agree with. For the Emperor and for Curze!" He bellowed.
"For Nostromo!" The rest of the squad echoed, as the drop pod blazed through the atmosphere, its hull a fiery crimson as it plummeted ever closer to the grand city below.

Sahaal plunged into the trenches, his weapon were not drawn, he simply beat the soldiers down with his armoured fists. A human with a power sword charged toward him, he jetted into the man, unsheathing his claws as he did. He fired bolt rounds into two unarmoured approaching humans.. Their torso's burst in a shower of gore. He sliced and jetted, through everyone in his way, working through the trenches toward the bunker ahead.

Lucius still crouched behind the stone, trying to find a target. Men scurried about as the bulk of the assault squads poured out of the dropship. At last he found a head.

"Gotcha."

He pulled the trigger. A single bolt shell flew through the air like a meteorite, corkscrewing around.

A scream rang through the air as the bolt shell closed in.

All that remained of the soldiers head was airborne. Fine chunks of human flesh and bone rained down from the sky onto his comrades. The squad ran, firing weapons at the rock.

The astartes dsembarked the ship and rushed towards the main battle.
Adric disembarked last. The second he stepped out of the ship he saw 9 renegades surrounding him out of their ranks a sergeant walked towards him and said ''Just surrender their is no chance for you to win or do you want to die already?''
Adric looked around and smiled. He said ''Fools do you even know how stupid this whole endeavor is? Waisting our time and your lives for the purpose of what? Stupidity?!''
The sergeant nodded and the renegades began firing at adric. The power armor shielded him from any grievous damage and when he saw a chance to counter attack he raised his plasma pistol and shot the sergeant in the head. His head exploded and his whole body began to melt.
The guardsman where confused and adric fired at them with his twin plasma guns they began rapid firing and killed 4 guardsman. After that adric rushed into close combat.
With a quick slash from his power axe he killed another 2 guardsman. After that with my tendrils i severed another guardsman limb from limb until only his head was left ehom i stored to be brought to the apothecary. The remaining three where lying broken on the ground one of them crying.
Adric's tendrils lifted them up into the air and he squashed 2 of them into a pulp. He knocked the remaining one out to be interrogated.

After continuing into the field adric heard a huge rumble and a explosion. He saw a leman russ battle tank rush onto the battlefield and his hull mounted lascannon slashed off one of the dropships wings.
Adric rushed towards cover and assessed the situation. He eventually opened his vox and said. ''This is forge master adric i request anti Armour units to be deployed towards my position immediately. A leman russ battle tank is tearing up the astartes here we need the support immediately!''

Sergent Taric looks at his squad and smiles. He has skulls around his belt and that of his terminators. This was to send fear into the enemies, Sergent Taric grimaced. He knes what he has to do. He does not like fighting but they have to do it to achieve peace. He had to do it for the duty for his Legion. For Curze. Not a single word was spoken on the way down to the planet. Just the awkward sound of the Engines, he was then droped down. When he arrived he heard the silence before the start of battle, the antipication of war. Sergent Taric, pulls out a small device and presses it, it relays the mission. The other Teriminators nod, without a word they start walking towards the front line with Sargent Taric. He would have to those poor idiots out of their misery. What a bother. The assault squads have porbably already made it to the front line and it would be smarter to shoot the enemy down a bit before heading charging in and making the enemies flee in Terror. They are only a few hundred metres from the battle, Taric grimace turns into a frown.

"We have landed." His voice crackles over the channels.

With a metalic thiring, the dreadclaw lifts its main body off the ground, the exit iris opening. A click as he unbuckles himself, Leonidus leaps to the ground and spots a nearby trench, he could hear the paniced men just inches behind it. Rising up to his full height, he takes a step foward and with a simple channel hack, connects his comunication channel to their outdated vox callers. Chuckling quietly, Leonidus begins to speak.

"Fools. Pathetic fools. Who do you think you are taking on the superhuman astartes, and with such feeble tools at your disposal. I offer no chance of surrender, for you there shall be no escape, you will never again see the faces of those you love and care about. Now show yourselves, lay down your arms and maybe, just maybe, you earn a mercyfully quick death."

With this, his Nocturnus guard close in silently behind him, their skull helms mirroring his own. He had personally chosen them from those on Nostramo he had most trusted, and they were utterly loyal to him. They were all highly trained, masters of the art of combat. Petty rebels would be like flies in their wake.

"Switch to incindiaries, open fire."

The weight of fire focused on Karras increased as he advanced towards the trenches, the guardsmen slowly recovering their wits from the shock of the assault. Heavier weapons were brought to bear, solid rounds from autocannons whined past, and an incandescent lascannon shot missed him by a whisker. Reaching out with his mind, Nox raised a dome of psychic energy, shielding himself and his brothers from the worst of the firepower. He would not be able to hold it for long, but they should make it to the trenches, provided it didn't get more intense.

Darius srubbed his armour, eyes scanning the dark blue ceramite. He could feel the multitude of scars in this old armour. This old armour which had guarded his body against countless attacks. From eldar shurikens to slicing blades he seen this armour guard him and had made a connection with it. Not just the connection through the caprace, but mentally as well. He stood and began to put it on. As he did, he thought of their enemy. Traitors, humans, but traitors. How he mourned for them, they had fallen from the light of the Imperium and now would be cleansed by its dark tallons. They were Astartes and now they would carry out their purpose. Death. The last peice of armour linked to his mind, he turned to his weapons. His bolter was clean, he always had it so. The pistol, however, was not. He had lended it to a novice and the fool hadn't cleaned it. It took him a mere five minutes. He made sure that all the large magazines at his belt where full. They where. He was meticulous in this. The door to his quarters slid open and his armoured bulk moved into the hallway. He recited a battle prayer in his head as he moved. An old one, from a home he hardly remebered.

Angels on wings of fire and death.
Angels with golden blades
Help to smite our enemys
Help us to win the day.

It went on like that for quite a while. Always talking about angels and how to smite dark foes. He didn't buy into the superstition, but he did quite enjoy how it sounded and felt. His footsteps rang on the floor. Aids and techs walked past him, he ignoring them, they looking with slight awe at him. He was a Night Lord, Son of Curze and warrior born. The awe would never fade. He held his helmet under his arm, the bolter in the other hand. His grey hair splayed out across his shoulders with his grey specked beard making him look like some sort of discoloured shrub above the armour. He made his way to the launch deck. He had been ordered to go the chapel before battle, but that would be countermandin the emperors own decree. Their lord wished for now worship, thus Darius would give him none. If the sargent, who he considered friend, pulled him up for it then he would simply quote the emperor.

A few minutes into his wait, his brothers arrived. The nine of them, all younger, all less experienced. All arrogant. Younge Astartes couldn't help it. They where the emperors angel's of death after all. He smiled before clamping on his helmet and moving to the drop pod. Soon, the servitor wound out the luanch procedure and ten deadly warriors of the emperor where flung out of their great ship in a tiny metal egg. He listened to and joined in with the Morias pre-battle ritual. "Once more into the maw of the enemy" he smiled rufelly. He may have been old but he still enjoyed a good fight. Some had compared him to an ork in that regard. "Aye Haestus" his leader somberly replied. A little too sombre for Darius's liking. You had to have fire in your blood and ice in your brain to fight like an astartes. However, the marine was still young. "Why is it that the captain most often picks our squad for insertion into the heart of the enemy?" He laughed slightly awaiting his friends response "Because brother, We are the best men for the job. If there's an objective, we will secure it. If the enemy are as thick as oxygen on it, then we will sooner torch the air to secure our objective than take another breath without a step forward" Now that, that was the reply of an astartes, of a warrior, of a leader. "That, is somthing that I can agree with" He paused then shouted "For Curze!" His brothers echoed the cry with "For nostramo!"

Clouds of flies buzzed around a couple of Trojan class support vehicles as its crew slaved to unload the potent heavy shells. 'The Dictator', pride of the 34th artillery regiment continued to
pound the drop zone with earth shaking force. The entire emplacement shook the surrounding canyon with each salvo. Their orders were clear, continue firing no matter what, they would pound the astrates into
the ground with fire and ash.

"Weep for them! for their faith is false. Rejoice for yourselves, for my faith is bottomless!" boomed the propaganda sirens. Moral was high in the 34th, they were over 40 kloms away from the expected drop zone.

The engines of the Storm Eagle were beginning to whine as it began its final decent. Activating his view screen, Krieg stared at the flickering image of the snake like artillery train. Guns protruded like thick hairs, ant like
support vehicles scurried back and forth re-supplying the massive shells. A glowing, multi dimensional map of human life signs flickered, counting roughly a full company with support crews.

Krieg slammed the view screen back into its wrought iron frame. Resistence is ten fold what was expected. The Storm Eagle set them down 4 kloms east of the objective. Their first priority were the Hydra anti-air cannons.
With these eliminated, the entire emplacement would be at the mercy of the Storm Eagle.

Krieg kicked his mount into life, and roared down the canyon, his brethren spread out into a single line. They would be on top the enemy before they can react. With a feral grin Krieg bellowed at the top of his lungs. Dust kicked up a storm behind them,
as they sped down the canyons side. Their bolters barked before the rebels could see them, blasting their unarmoured bodies into a fine mist. Panic swept through the 34th, as they desperatly tried to climb abourd the Dictator. The Night lords were already upon the outter defences,
and were sweeping through the skeleton guard shockinly fast. The train finally began to jutter into life, throwing men and women to the dirt. The cannons continued to fire, even as it began its retreat.

A series of explosions followed the daemonic bikers as they dropped grenades into fuel reserves. Huge towers of smoke and fire raged through the canyon, choking and burning any left behind in the hasty retreat.

"Bloody Space Marines, apparently they've landed at the front and the first trenches are almost gone already," A concerned guardsmen mumbled to his companion.
His friend, who was head and shoulders above him, smirked. "Nah, they ain't so tough. The bigger they are, the harder they fall!"
"Y-yeah, you're right. Besides, they'll never get through all our defences to the centre of the city here, and even if they did, we've built miles of bunker complexes, gun-nests, killing fields and they'd be running through fifteen miles of booby-trapped land from the outskirts to get here. Not to mention our hidden guerilla forces."
"That's the spirit, they can't touch us. They may have that fancy power armour, but we'll see how much good that does them against our over-charged lasguns."
The two men shared a malign laugh. "I hope they do come, bring 'em on I say! We'll show the bastards not to mess with us!"
A third voice spoke up from nearby. "Privates, I suggest you focus on your duties, not making idle chat."
"Yes sir!" The two men snapped to attention instantly.
"Rest assured, those Astartes can and will find a way to break through, and when they do, we-" The officer paused, looking around curiously. "Can you two hear something?"
"Now that you mention it.. I think I--"
The three traitors managed to look up at the sky with bewilderment for a mere second before they were crushed into the ground as if they had never been there.

The familiar resounding thud resonated through the hull of the drop pod as it impacted with the fury of a volcano cannon. "Pod down!" Morias yelled as their restraints retracted and the sealing bolts blew, the doors burst open, slamming to the ground. The Ghosts of Moonlight piled out, weapons raised and firing. The guardsmen were still reeling from the impact of the pod. Morias raised his bolt pistol, pulling the trigger twice and feeling the sharp bark of the weapon was probably more comforting to him than the two men mass-reactive explosive bolts slammed into. Haestus was by his side, boltgun raised, precise shots taking down a half dozen of the traitorous dogs.
"Forwards brothers! To me, Ghosts of Moonlight!" Morias roared over the comms, rallying his men and drawing his chainsword high. He lead the charge towards the nearest group of men, who were struggling to feed the ammo into a jammed heavy bolter. He noted with some delight as they looked up; relishing their distraught and horrified expressions as he brought his chainsword down, slicing the first's head from his shoulders followed by a twist of his wrist and a thrust to place his blade through the chest of the horrified gunner. Wrenching his blade free and firing from his pistol with his other hand, he silenced another enemy as his brothers hacked and slashed with combat blades, bashed and crushed with fists and boots and mercilessly slaughtered with their fell boltguns.

Within a bloody minute of close combat, two dozen more traitors lay rent and broken at their feet. They looked up as a counter charge, lead by what appeared to be lead by a foolhardy sergeant with a power sword.
"Archaeus, heavy weapons solution now!" He ordered. There was a clunk as one of his Marines yanked the heavy bolter from its attachment, and within a few moments it's breach was cleared and the heavy calibre rounds were loosed upon their charging foes. Two dozen of the traitors were brutally cut down, legs and arms blown from bodies in explosive sprays of gore and arterial spray, whilst others took multiple shells and were reduced to little more than bloody clumps of meat. But yet more came, a sizeable counter charge of five infantry units, a command section backed by a lumbering Leman Russ MBT following more slowly behind. Lasbolts rained down on them, the Marines thought little of it until two Astartes at the front took a flurry of red-hot bolts that whisked clear through their ceramite, adamantine and plasteel armour; the two falling to the ground lifeless, their forms riddled with smoking holes.
"Get down! They have over-charged lasguns!" He shouted over the squad comm, and his men dived behind what sparse cover was available.
"Donnatus, Corvus, suppression fire, Kurnar, flank with your flamethrower, Vartenius let fly frags!" He spat out a flurry of commands; four runes on his HUD display flashing green in acknowledgement. His men wasted no time, a hail of .75 calibre bolter rounds were emptied into the charging traitors, thinning their foremost ranks and scattering their charge. A frag grenade landed in their midst, blowing apart four as the rest of his brothers poured fire into them. There were blood chilling screams of agony as Kurnar revealed himself ten metres ahead and spewed deadly promethium over the traitor's ranks, incinerating a dozen before he was forced back into cover, scattered shots flying towards him. Their assailants; or at least what was left of them, raced towards them, piling into the encampment. Marines met hand-to-hand with men they towered over, but it was only eight against almost thirty. Bayonets jabbed and stabbed whilst razor sharp combat blades sliced, scoring clean kills. Tyceus and Vartenius fought back to back nearby - both skilled blade fighters, putting down three men in as many seconds whilst Haestus slammed his bolter into the face of a charging man, crushing his face. A follow up blow caved in the front of his skull and a power armoured stamp crushed his head, ensuring a kill.

Morias slashed out, disembowling a man before parrying the wicked edge of a sword and placing a shot in its wielder's head, splashing blood over his armour. He hacked and cut, wading through the traitorous soldiers as easily as his chainsword tore through their armour, grinding flesh and bone alike under its mono-molecular edged teeth. Vartenius died gurgling as his body turned to molten slag under the relentless blast of a meltagun. Tyceus roared and ended the special weapons trooper's life, forcing his combat blade through the man's skull. He then scooped up the meltagun and stood impassive to the agonising screams as he reduced two men to wet, smoking slush as his boltgun fired into the mass of bodies, cutting down a trio of charging men. Donnatus was brought down in a mass of raging adrenaline-fuelled bodies, slashing and stabbing at the vulnerable parts of his armour. Ultimately, he was hauled to his knees and two guardsmen forced their bayonets through his helmet lenses, firing away and burning away his head under the fusillade of searing hot light. The traitor's triumph at slaying a superhuman was short-lived as Kurnar set them alight with his flamethrower, ensconcing them in the warm caress of his weapon's flaming embrace, their charred corpses fluttering to the ground as their screams died away amidst the conflagration.

After cutting down and gutting a duo of foolhardily courageous traitors, sergeant Kalvae found himself face to face with the vainglorious sergeant leading this platoon, who waved away his accompanying orderlies and guards and outstretched his power sword in a defiant challenge. From underneath his helmet, Morias saw the sheer determination and willpower emanating from his opponents thick-set features. Such characteristics could be admired in a leader. Regardless, the man would fall by his blade this day; of that Morias was sure as he holstered his pistol - the clip spent - and gripped his chainsword two-handed, holding it high. With a curse on his lips, he charged as did his foe and their blades met in a furious clash. Morias did not hesitate to deliver a kick to the man's chest, sending him to the ground before his glowing blade had the chance to cut through his own. He brought his weapon down, the teeth revving furiously as they bit into dirt - his opponent lithely rolling out of the way and to his feet, a laspistol raised. Two over-charged shots slammed into his chest, the powerful laser bolts leaving simmering burn marks but otherwise only causing superficial damage. Morias charged, his large shoulder blade smashing into the man and knocking him down, likely braking his nose at the very least. He deftly stopped and twisted round, swing his blade in a sweep designed to decapitate. But it seemed his enemy was made of sterner stuff and still did not yield to his inevitable fate, managing to squirm away just in time to avoid losing his head. The man seemed to conjure inhuman reserves of strength, climbing to his weary feet and as Morias brought down another killing blow, the army sergeant managed a skilful parry before thrusting with his shining weapon. Morias moved to avoid it, but not quite fast enough, and it struck him in the shoulder - though his armour absorbed most of the blow, the blade pierced through to his body and he felt pain as it went through his shoulder blade. He grunted and grabbed the man, kicking him to the blood-soaked ground and pinning him with his immovable boot. His opponent closed his eyes below him, whispering some prayer to debased gods or perhaps simply the names of loved ones, it mattered not as Morias's chainsword came down and tore his face apart in a terrible demonstration of Imperial might.

Apparently deciding their infantry were fighting a losing battle, the Leman Russ MBT opened fire, its heavy bolters mowing down a truck load of its own soldiers. One of the shells took Archaeus in the abdoment, blowing out the side of his armour and knocking him down with a wail of pain and anger. The lascannon fired, annihilating two men and vaporizing the top half of Corvus with it. Then Kurnar was there, leaping onto the back of its hull and climbing on top of it. The top hatch opened and a startled tank commander screamed as he was pulled from his seat and discarded over the front of his vehicle like a rag doll and crushed under its tracks as it moved forward. Kurnar dropped a frag grenade down the hatch, hearing screams from inside as it detonated, then he athletically moved to the front, lopping two krak grenades into the main cannon before pressing his flamethrower against the unprotected driver's peephole and pressing down on the trigger, immolating the man at the controls. He jumped clear and curled into a combat roll as he hit the ground just before the krak grenades exploded and blew the main turret apart. The counter attacking traitors were routed with their sergeant dead and their heavy tank rendered all but useless. The few remnants were cut down mercilessly or had a bolter shell put through their backs as they tried to flee. Morias pulled the small power sword free from his shoulder with a groan and impaled it on the corpse of its late owner, before forming up with his remaining men: Tyceus, Kurnar and Haestus helping the badly wounded Archaeus. They had lost five good men in the space of ten minutes of vicious fighting. These rebels were well-trained, very well-equipped and putting up a strong fight. Their job was not yet over however, they still had to press on to the central command centre - or die trying. If they didn't move they'd be overwhelmed by reinforcements in a matter of minutes anyway; and the rest of the company was a very long way from their position.
"Ghosts of Moonlight, gather up ammunition from our fallen brothers - we move in thirty seconds."

Einer hit like a comet, the shockwave knocking over those that weren't crushed beneath his foot. He had his axes in his hands, hacking and slashing away at the humans who were too slow or stupid to run. A cluster to his left recovered ,long enogh to aim their lascannon emplacement at him, but were destroyed before they could fire, one of his squad crushed them in the same manner as he had just done. He turned to the remaining traitors and bellowed. His voice snarled as he did so, the death's head image He had hand painted onto his Mk4 faceplate seming to come alive, screaming itself, while the lightning and fire rippled acros his armour. The humans dropped their arms and ran as fast as they could. They got 4 feet before the other 3 of the Claw droppedin front of them, a flamer incineration the bodies and bolt pistols and a plasma pistol obliterating the flailing bodies. The shots had scarcly hit before the squad jetted off, looking for a new target.

Taric and his squad began to run to catch up to his comrades. Concerned by the ammount of Lascannon shots and the sudden silence, he ran as fast he could towards the trenches, he started to open fire on the remaining Guardsmen in the first trench. They shot down around 30 or so Guarsdsmen. The rest of the guardsmen started to flee in fear, he decided to show them mercy. He started to run towards the trenches relieved to see it was taken care of them. He nodded and the squad gathered around him. Taric said "Grease your armour with their guts." He ripped out the guts and started to grease and cover his terminator armour in it. The others did so also.

He used his vox to communicate to the vox casters "Traitors of the Imperial Guard, you will face your doom, flee now or be striken down. If you do not leave now your head will be put on a pike for all to see, your family, house, everything you have ever cared about will die. If you want mercy, flee or be shot down" He hated doing that, at least it would encourage them to flee or surrender rather than doing things the more messy way.

Knowing that the Second Trench would already know about the breach in the First Trench they decided to run quickly before the Second Trench had time to even prepare for the attack. They started running fullforce. Taric decided to take cover in a ruined fort. Waiting for reinforcements.

Screams echoed throughout the canyon as flesh melted from bone. Even as the train reached its full speed, and hurtled through the narrowing canyon, its crew could still hear and smell their comrades death. The attack had been brutal and unexpected, soldiers and crew screamed and panicked. It had taken a matter of minutes to break from position, and they were down too almost half strength. Acting Lt. Green pushed his way to the cabin. Techpriests and servitors shuffled about at their stations. The smell of blood and oil was thick.

"What the feth was that?!" screamed Chief engineer Dravin frantically. Sweat dripping from his filthy square face.

Green didn't answer, as he grabbed the closest vox unit.

"We have been forced to fall back, unknown number of astrates closing on our position, please advise, over"

Any crew member that could still think for themselves stopped and stared at the vox. Their only answer was static, deafinging awful static.

After what seemed like an age they were finally answered.

"Do not lose the engine, reinforcements are enroute, expected eta 14 minutes. You are hereby empowered to deliver justice wherever you see it lacking. You are given total authority to judge and punish cowardice in the name of the high lord general"

The train suddenly jerked forward, sending the crew crashing into the sides of the cabin. Metal screamed as detonations sent massive multi tonne carriages flying end over end, dragging the entire train off its tracks, skidding and finally thundering into the side of the canyon.

Green struggled to his feet, his ears ringing. He balanced himself against an unknown servitor, still, obliviously working away. He unholstered his las pistol, and tried to pull himself from the cabin, into the blinding light outside. Green could barely see, smoke and dust billoed out of the wrecked engine. He pressed his commm bead, trying to find out what happened. Horrible silence was all he could find, he managed to find a handful of survivors, each as disorientated as himself.

"Ready up men, reinforcements are nearly here" he coughed

The vox channels told him the first trench was elimenated, the guardsmen easily routed. He would head to the second. Now this would be interesting. The info-links told him they had higher amounts of special and heavy weaponry and even some of the abhuman gene-brutes amongst their ranks; the Ogryns.

"Enim noctis." His harsh voice bellowed through his voice grill, his Nocturnus guard responding in kind.

The second trench was now within sight and their formidible weaponry was apparent, heavy bolters and autocannons bristling from their lines like hairs, many guardsmen carrying meltas and plasma guns. Their technilogical advantage seeming to give them bravely. They would soon see true fear. The renegades had the advantage of range, lascannon shots and autocannon rounds were alreadly raining down around them, tearing and burning great holes into the already dusty and cratered earth. As they neared, one of their number fell, his body blown apart in a shower of gore, his power armour and superhuman durability no match for a direct hit from a krak missile. They would pay for that. The charging astartes were within firing distance now, dozens of frail guardsmen dying in the opening seconds, their pathetic forms quickly set alight by his and his squad's incindiary rounds. Easy kills.

Only metres away now, his men all draw their finely crafted power swords as one, the remaining guardsmen hurriedly drawing their combat knives and attatching bayonettes to their las and autoguns. A heartbeat later, they were upon them. With an leaping sweep of his power sword, three renegades drop to the ground, their heads severed cleanly. He turns swiftly to slice his Narthecium across the throat of a terrified man, blade raised weakly in an attempt at parrying, the fool went down instantly, wide-eyed and gurgling. All around him his men did the same, the undisciplined guardsmen unable to defend against the lighting fast marines.

A deafening roar rending the air, Leonidus spins to see the head of one his most trusted men fly through the air, a brutish ogryn beating his limp body into the dirt. Drawing Bloodbolt from its holster, he opens fire. With three metalic clicks, three bolts plough into the giant's form, each shot causing a miniature explosion which tears a chunk from its side. Amongst the swirling maelstrom of blades and flame, the two charge.