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i know right. anybody else?

Could I do a Azeroth invasion by the Space marines? XD I've been working on it.
Does it sound stupid or is that quite original for me? Because there has been a purging of hogwarts and a purging of twilight story, and i thought of.. "Wouldn't it be cool to have the purging of the World of Warcraft and the Roleplays of warcraft?"
just a thought.

Hi there, I'll throw my hat into the ring!

Contact

The thin air echoed through the long, black corridors and the faint hissing of steam vents answered Brother-Captain Benedict’s footsteps. The dark and empty ship matched his mood; it seemed that there would be no action and he was getting restless.

Benedict had volunteered the instant that Celestin had asked for a captain, especially as it had been over a year since the Sarrah victory and his men were hungry for battle. His finger flexed across the trigger of his stormbolter as his squad moved towards the main bay of the vessel. Although they wouldn't show it, he knew that they were restless too.

The sweep of the outlying corridors had not revealed a single life form or any technology of worth. Most of the hardware was stripped or damaged beyond repair; its secrets lost forever. He called a halt to his men in what would have once been a preparation area for Warhawk and Thunderhawk gunships. The vehicle racks were broken and twisted and only dead wires hung from them, their copper innards exposed to the near vacuum. At the rear there was a vast hatch that would take them further into the heart of the craft. Its hydraulics and cogwheels were all burnt orange in colour, and the great Aquila embossed upon it was the size of a Land Raider. Benedict stood thoughtfully before the huge pressure door, as its archaic symbols were covered in rust he wondered if the mechanism would still function.
‘We are going to proceed into sector six,’ he relayed over his vox com, knowing that their cam feeds were being thoroughly scrutinized by Icor, a tech-priest from the forge world Chemaxion.
‘Yes, yes, you must go further inside and secure this vessel. You must,’ the Adeptus Mechanicus enginseer enthused from his pict relay-orb on the Battle Barge Gallant.
‘That blast door, umm; a mark four-eighty-three. Let me think, aha; the lever will be a skull on a bar of twisted bronze,’ Icor said, struggling to keep his mechanical voice level, such was his excitement.

Back within the derelict it caused a wry smile to play across Benedict’s face. Typically he had little time for men who preferred science over warfare. However, he was glad that Icor was advising them as his knowledge of ancient technology was second to none, despite the rabid and humourous manner in which he fussed over it. He took a moment to think back to their last meeting.

Two weeks earlier, four separate astropath’s aboard transport barges in the Fortura Corridor had sent reports of a great darkness in the Warp. The news was important enough for Chapter Master Celestin to summon Benedict and all the company captains to a consultation with the Imperial Navy. Most feared a warp storm was brewing or that the tendrils of a hive fleet were approaching. Icor had counselled against this, saying that it could be a lost remnant of the Gothic fleet, but was shouted down by nearly all those assembled. However, the shadow vanished from Warp space as quickly as it had appeared and the point seemed moot. Nevertheless, not long after, the long range scanner at Fortura Prime reported a large craft, powerless and adrift, entering the sector. A cruiser was sent to intercept the vessel and what it discovered was something that nobody except Icor expected; an enormous ship, fifty eight times the size of the Gallant that bore Crusade-era Imperial insignia.

Captain Benedict had read of the great Hulks that drift through Imperial space from time to time. Some infested with Pirates or Orks, some filled with horrors that are much, much worse. However, he also knew that ancient vessels such as these could contain any number of powerful artefacts or forgotten STC blueprints. The worth of such discoveries could be invaluable to the Imperium. Indeed, the Adeptus Mechanicus garrison at Chemaxion could barely hide their glee at the discovery, regardless of the risks involved. Their usually secretive tech-lords had rendezvoused with Celestin’s Space Marine fleet a mere fourteen hours after the discovery, offering their services.

Captain Benedict returned his attention to the door, trying to locate the release handle. His squad lined up in assault formation beside him with clockwork precision. Despite his great artificer plate, he was still dwarfed by the hulking marines in tactical dreadnaught armour that flanked him. The Terminators of the first company waited in silence, each aware of their duties and the potential threats that lay deeper within the vast ship. Despite the eerie emptiness of the abandoned vessel, none would let fear take them. They had all served in the Vanguard during the Sarrah Campaign, witnessing carnage that no man should have to endure in his lifetime. Despite that, Benedict had been the only captain to proudly report that none of his men had fallen on that first brutal day. Benedict smiled at the recollection, but was broken from his reverie by a presence at his shoulder.
‘Brother-Captain,’ said Elias, the squad sergeant, absently running his eyes around the outline of the door. Benedict looked over at the big Marine and smiled, recalling the hour that Elias had smashed asunder the Orkoid command posts and raised the Exemplar banner.
‘Elias, form up the men. We will use codex pattern Phobius,'
'Yes brother-captain, the silence of this place is unusual.'
'Not even the machine spirit whispers here,’ replied Benedict.
‘So we must speak his name into these dark places!’ Elias said.
The captain nodded and turned to face all of his men, ‘I do not know what we will see or what we will confront, but the Emperor’s light watches over us. Trust in that.’
‘My assault cannon is my trust,’ whispered Elias as he shifted uneasily back into his position.
‘We all trust in that,’ the captain smiled. He looked back to the door and let out a grunt of satisfaction as he located the lever, complete with a skull, just as Icor had described.
‘Close stance by twos on me. Forward Astartes!’ Benedict said and activated the rusty handle. The bronzed door slowly rumbled up into its housing and the steam that rushed from beneath it billowed out in great clouds temporarily blinding the men.

‘Curse those Marines! I can’t make out anything! What can you see Benedict?’ Icor said wiping the pict monitors futilely, far away on the Gallant.
‘Icor… Stand by,’ replied the Captain. The tech priest checked Benedict’s feed and through the wispy clouds of smoke he saw the tantalising sight of banks of untouched instrumentation panels.
‘Yes, take a closer look at those stations,’ Icor said, craning his bionic eye right up to the screen.
‘Icor… Can’t… Hear… Squad ho…’ Benedict’s voice disappeared in a hiss of electricity.
‘Captain, There is… Coming…’ Brother Elias’ gruff voice cut in on the vox.
The brief glimpse of ancient technology Icor had seen vanished from the screens as the mist continued to cloud around the Marines. Icor thumped his fist down on control grid in frustration. ‘Can you not clear that accursed vapour!’ the enginseer snapped. He scanned over the various displays to see if there were any other traces of a clear sight of the panels. He set his myriad servo arms and fine manipulators to twisting dials and punching buttons to improve the picture quality. Just as he was about to give up in frustration, he thought he could see something on a deep ultra wavelength. He turned up the contrast, hoping to bring the arcane technology into focus; instead he saw strange shapes moving agilely through the mist. They were far too swift to be the Terminators. His eyes opened with horror as he realised that the strike team were compromised. Before he could warn them, his earpiece erupted with the sudden sound of storm-bolter fire.
‘Brother-Captain…’ a Marine said amidst the confused shouting, before being cut off in a horrid, rasping gargle.
‘Switch to vox com theta; it’s clear.’ Benedict’s voice crackled over the radio link, ‘Xeno’s incoming. By His light, from the floor! Defence pattern Falcon! For the Emperor, Dorn and Glory!’
Icor returned his eyes to Benedict’s feed, but all he could make out were the muzzle flashes of weapon fire and ominous bestial shadows. He jumped back in horror as a huge clawed hand raked across the screen.
‘Captain Benedict? Sergeant Elias?’ he stammered as three monitors blinked to static snow. Through the com link he heard the assault cannon open fire over strange, guttural noises.
‘Icor? Can you hear me? Elias? We need... What in the Emperor’s name…?’ Benedict’s voice was drowned out by a loud reverberation on all the vox channels. The bolters were instantly silenced and the remaining pict monitors flicked to static.
‘Benedict!’ Icor stammered, but there was no reply. He tapped in the mag code for the commander of the fleet and shakily lowered his mike to his lips.
‘Admiral Calerphron, this is Enginseer Icor; priority alpha. Tell Master Celestin that we need an immediate tele-vac of the sweep team; expect fatalities. Oh, and Cal, run a pulse to Chemaxion, tell them that the survey will be delayed by several months due to possible Genestealer contact.' He took off his headset and looked at the rows of blank monitors. He sat in the dim white light for a long time with his human hand clamped over his mouth in disbelief.
‘Well Celestin,’ Icor murmured under his breath, ‘I was wrong. The tentacles of the Hive fleet have reached us. I hope for both our sakes you’re the equal of them.'

Last minute entry for 40k fiction contest. A work in progress, more of it can be found on its own thread in fiction
Title: “Beat to Quarters”



***Kelryan Colony - Castien Fields - 2 Hours After Contact***

The bulk head rattled in a disturbing manner and Guardsmen Von winced as a bolt slipped from its housing along the far wall. The sound of its clatter along the plasteel floor was drowned by the unstable roar of the engines. Another bump of turbulence and one of the engines shuddered producing a whining sound. Von glanced down the double row of infantry, faces pale and sweating, fear evident on everyone's face. There were twenty of them crammed in the old fuselage which was originally built to hold half that number. The Valkyre may have been old long since seen its service, their equipment was new from the foundry, their las carbines and flak vests would see their first test shots and trials soon.

A mumble emanated from the front of the hold, only just noticeable above the din of the engines, barely caught Von's attention. The only standing passenger, a young commissar, whose name Von hadn't bothered to learn, adjusted his breathing mask to reveal his mouth. "We are five minutes to the jump point." The young commissar’s shaky voice finally caught the attention of everyone in the hold. "We're leading point, we lost one Valkyre after launch, we will be supported by two more air drops and the single tank drop. We will hold until Governor Valouran arrives with the initiative cavalry." The commissar’s throat bobbed with an inaudible gulp as he pulled himself up to an unimpressive height. "Ready your packs. You will hold the Xenos, and drive them back. The emperor will protect."

Halfhearted mummers of "emperor protect" echoed throughout the chamber. Even Von's lips habitually formed the words without heart. Why would the emperor choose now to protect his unloved children? The guardsmen checked to ensure the safety was off on his brand new compact las carbine, and began to coax his intake decelerator to life. The experimental grav-paks began to hum as their intake vents warmed up and the compartment was filled with a cacophony of the uneasy engines.

An overhead light began to flash red as the compartments suddenly depressurized. Von scrambled to secure his respirator as the side doors screeched open. The guardsmen had all practiced this maneuver hundreds of times, never expecting to actually use it. The Imperium had taken all their service ready aircraft, who would ever have thought command would patch together derelicts and expect them to work? The two doors continued to grind their way home revealing a hatch large enough for two abreast to jump, turbulent air began to suck at uniforms and guardsmen alike, threatening to drop them into the predawn sky.

Gripping an overhead guide line the young commissar leaned out the right hand door into the darkness, risking a quick glance ahead. With a horrendous squeal the entire hold jumped as the left plasteel door was ripped from its mounting. The Commissar stumbled, losing his grip, almost falling as he frantically grasped at his now long gone hat. Only the lending hand of Sargent Dannel prevented a more serious loss. Even so, the loss of his iconic symbol reminded Von and the guards once again at how young the commissar was, he couldn't have yet reached his 20th cycle.

Among the guard it was common to see children serving. From the Kelryan Colonies, most children were being drafted at 14 cycles. Only the Colonial Defense Initiative had any years, and all of them were beyond conformity. At 28, Von was unlikely to have meshed well into a large off-world regiment. Not one member of the initiative was under 25, and all those over 30 had long sense made their service to the god emperor. This out world commissar was a child leading men half again his age and respect was far from forthcoming.

The young commissar's tawny hair, cut in officer regulation, blew madly around his face as he began securing his own intake decelerator. Once secured, he turned to watch the overhead lights. Von and the other guardsmen followed the young officers' example as the steady red light glared down at them. The engines rumbled and thrummed distantly in time with the beat of Von's heart. The anticipation grew, drowning out all but his concentration on the light.

The light flicked green.

"FOR THE EMPEROR"

***
Kelryan Colonial Air Space - 3 Hours Before Contact

"Wez gonna have fun stompin humies boss?" Noggard asked around his meaty hand. One fat finger lodged deep within a nostril. "Whaz de plan boss?"

Cap'an Wazgobla sneered at his underling. "If Iz told ya once Iz told ya a 'undrad times! Weez gonna ZTOMP EM." All this yelling without smashing was giving Cap'an Wazgobla quite a bit of indigestion. A loud belch resonated from his mighty girth. "Wherez dem gitz got at? Iz hungry."

Noggard paled. The appetite of Wazgobla was legendary, he'd devoured four of Noggard's predecessors when no git or grot was within reach as the hunger took him. "Iz gonna get zome right away boss." Noggard hurried off through the space hulk's empty halls in search of a tasty snack.

"Itz about time wez had a good scrap." Wazgobla's belly roared in agreement. It had been too long floating on the hulk, the tribe had turned on itself so many times. There were few enough left to wait for a more populated landfall, but even still, his clan would descend upon this world in a right proppa waah.

Scratchin his steel head plate with one massive klaw drew sparks into the darkened navigation post. Wazgobla continued to scratch feverently, drawing deep rivulets into his protective skull casing. How could metal itch so much? Looking about at the many encased displays in the room made Wazgobla dizzy, this navpost was no place for a boss, smashin' here would be bad. "Waz da vektor, flyboyz?"

The front of the compartment dipped down into a pilots nest, the mishapen orks who resided there were the only ones Wazgobla didn't dare eat. After all, if he ate them, who would get his clan to the next fight? "Wez right on schedual, boss. Have you there soon." A pilot's voice wailed from the cockpit, their goggled faces not bothering to turn from the massive plexisteel windows. "Wez gonna have to slow down tho boss or weez gonna crash. We'll land you near da humie hive."

The sight out those windows just reminded Wazgobla why bosses shouldn't be pilots. No wonder the flyboys were so demented. Who would possibly want to slow down when the killin was so close? One look out into the great empty void was almost enough to drive Wazgobla mad. All that emptiness, nothing to kill, nothing to eat. "Look at my killy klaw boyz... you boyz betta hurry or I may just start the killin wif YOU!" The threat made Wazgobla feel better, nothing helped a little worry like good ol' intimidation. "Show meez the weak humie landz on da projekto fingy."

The bridge's holoprojector had been rigged with plexisteel panels after the third time Wazgobla had poked it too hard with his klaw. The holofield depicted a massive gas giant with a large double ring of debris. Nestled deep within the rings were 8 moon worlds. "Which one weez gonna bring da word of Gork to?" They all seemed so small by comparison to the gas giant, the giant glowed a sickly orange green in color. This was a good omen, green for the ork!

"Bring it right up boss." The holoimage shifted to focus on the outer ring. A large moon had created a rift in the planetary belt, its surface a dusky grey in color. "Is got umies all over it. Humie hive homes and lotz of humie scraps." The image grew to display mediocre hive cities dotting the ash and snow strewn surface.

"Dez look small," Wazgobla observed. Considering the state of his clan, this was good. "Wez gonna have a propa fight on our handz." The prospect of up close killing got Wazgobla's belly a broiling again. "Wez gonna have our own right wah." This moon would be just a starting point, the killin and eatin would get his boys back to strength. There was enough scrap to be had in any hive to make another Rok, and if there were humie builder plants then there would be lootin' enough for the whole clan to have mega armor. "Heh heh heh, weez gonna have us some real fun."

"Keep course and landz us there." Wazgobla could barely contain his excitement; it began to seep and bubble from his glorious hunger. "Weez gonna eat real good."

Noggard returned with a panicked git in his arms. "Boss, i found one!" Noggard's massive form dwarfed the little green snack. The little git began to struggle more feverently upon smelling the glory of Wazgobla's hunger. Such a weak thing these grots were and Wazgobla wondered what good gits were for other than eatin or buildin stuff. "Shall I assemble the boyz boss?"

The squirming grot disappeared behind Wazgobla's steel jaws with a shrill and gurgled squeak. "Wherez ma zstompin boots? Find me zomethin killy... is time da boys got stuck in! Wez gonna make dis place orky, and I'm still HUNGRY"

***
***

Kelryan Colonal Command - 8 hours before contact.

"The space hulk entered our systems air space one hour ago. Based on its trajectory and velocity it will enter our atmosphere within half a rotation, eta 10 hours. Its mass reading is mostly hollow and could be carrying an entire war force. Distress signals were emitted the moment the hulk was spotted. So far there has been no noticeable reduction in speed. Analysis has determined the hulk to be Xenos in origin, most likely Ork. Threat range in the order of thousands to millions." The servitors voice continued to run down threat ratios and readouts in the monotone indicative of an imperial lobotomy.

Colonial Governor Valouran and his entourage listened and watched the holo-image unfold on the central display. The hologram depicted a small comet or meteor that had been modified with engines and red painted armor plating, a classic 'roc'. The space hulk was large enough to carry the entire moon's population. However, as hulks went it, was minimal. Perhaps it was too small for the empire to react and send any regiments. "According to the read outs its mostly empty. Could the hulk be abandoned?"

"Not likely sir." The gruff voice of Lord Commissar Draavis ground out from the back of the room. Draavis had been an unfortunate addition to Valouran's entourage, placed above the governor by segmentum command after the purge. When the colony re-embraced its imperial founders ten years ago, the aristocracy had all been sentenced to a service to the god emperor. Valouran had been an acolyte of the still loyal cult of the Emperor, and so was elevated to Governor. The other acolytes all found themselves in places of importance, the seeds of a new aristocracy, while the priests and higher were removed to do a service to the emperor for lack of zeal and loyalty. Draavis was from the segmentum, an out worlder, he and his commissars were here to ensure loyalty.

Valouran cringed, "Any chance in relief from central?" The local regiments had all been drafted to His Holy Army. Drafting’s had been severe since the colonies had returned to the fold. A third of the population had been put to death just for being slow to throw off their heretical teachings. All those within the recruiting age were drafted to colonial regiments and sent off world. The result was a population left decimated and largely unguarded. Of the original 5 hive cities on the moon of Kelrya, only two were now officially populated. The three dark side spires had been largely abandoned. All eight moon worlds had been reduced to skeleton crews or even less in some places. Agricultural production, on the inner moons, was so low as to have almost halted completely. They had difficulty producing enough food for the dramatically diminished populations of the outer moons.

The gas giant Helicos 4 provided the warmth and light required to sustain habitable planets this far from the central sun. The inner moons couldn't be abandoned, as they produced the only food products. The outer moons couldn't be abandoned, as they were the gateway to the inner moons. As Helicos 4 has two massive asteroid and debris rings, it was only safe to enter by hopping from moon to moon. As a result, the outer moons had adapted a defense and manufactorioum presence to compensate for their need to be populated, while the inner worlds had taken a largely agricultural role.

"Relief will come if and when the emperor sees fit. You have been unloyal. Now is the chance to prove your worth." Draavis's voice ground out a low staccato. "We must stand alone until aid arrives or we are victorious." The old commissar left the third possibility from being mentioned, voicing it would be heresy. It wasn't that Draavis was a fool, far from it. The man was as loyal to the emperor as any of his sect, and had seen more of war than most. His old gnarled face reminded Valouran of a stump, unmoving, unkind, but not exactly cruel. "You should be proud for the chance to serve your Emperor, to prove your salvation was even worth his consideration."

For the sin's of their forefathers, the moon worlds had fared quiet well, however. The rest of the the Helicos system had suffered worse. Helicos 1 and Helicos 2 had their entire populations put to death. Helicos 1 had been irradiated as an example to the rest of the system. The desert planet had only a hand full of mining colonies and its loss was of little significance, beyond its symbolic warning. The loss of Helicos 2 however was much more grievous. Having been sentenced to death as heretics and traitors, the large temperate planet had once been the most productive and heavily populated in the system. The large agricultural planet had sustained two full polar hive cities, with populations to rival any imperial world. Helicos 2 had also been the system's Bastion and military strong point. The third planet in the system, Helicos 3, had suffered much the same as the moons had; its population decimated by over drafting and sacrifices of loyalty. The planet's warm jungle wilderness had begun to turn on the decimated population and the remnants of its planetary defense were in a state of constant alert from local feral orks and other denizens of the jungle. The southern and central hive spires had to be abandoned leaving only its northern polar city now populated.

Valouran sighed; it was too much to hope for aid so soon. The other planets and moons couldn't spare even one soldier in the defense of another. Valouran's eyes wandered the room until they met those of his most senior officer. "What of our Defense Initiative, Commander Jacob?"

Jacob was the oldest guard member left in the system, aging at 56 cycles, and experienced in minor prior defenses as a guardsman. Only his injuries had kept him from being sent off-world. "Four hundred strong, two tanks and six transports functional." Jacob wore the Kelryan traditional guardsmen uniform despite his rank, empty right sleeve buttoned tight against his back. "We have no birds and our factories are all but bare. Current deployment is in urban pacification, between our two light spires." The implications of heavy drafting were heavier for having been left unspoken. Jacob was a loyal Emperor's man and would not speak out against the commissars, though his displeasure at seeing his home unguarded was evident all over his kind face.

Scratching his beard, Valouren considered the possibilities. There weren't many, so the reprieve didn't last long. "Halt current manufactorium productions. Have the servitors locate derelicts in the scrap yards. Let's see how much armor they can get moving, and how fast." Valouran's mind scrambled for possibilities. "Are the sonic emitters ready for test use?" Despite Draavis's disapproval, the technology research from before the purge was still being pursued. Prior to Lord Solar Macharius's crusade arriving ten years ago, Kelryan had enjoyed a hundred years of trade and intellectual commerce with a Tau outpost on the system's second planet. While the population had been eradicated as a punishment for this cooperation, the Imperium had not specifically forbid the continued pursuit of sonic technologies. This pursuit had remained the Helicos System's sole importance to the Empire of Man, that and its extensive penal facilities.

An idea struck. Penal facilities. Searching among the faces of his entourage, Valouran spotted the man he was searching for, Chief Warden Gordon. The tall, thin off-worlder had been put in charge of the moon's prison system when it was deemed that sympathy for crusade captives may lead to inappropriate handling of prisoners. "What about the prisoners? Could we raise the penal legions? Do we have enough blast collars?"

Gordon spoke in a slurred accent, "There are currently thirty two hundred prisoners in the compounds. While most are nonviolent offenders, many have seen prior service." Sudden hope began to surge in Valouran's chest. The addition of a couple thousand penal legionnaires would greatly improve the Initiatives chances at stopping whole-scale, planetary slaughter.

Draavis responded as he moved closer to the holo-image, authority and accusation heavy in his voice. "YOU!" He stabbed a finger at the tall warden. "Do not have approval from Segmentum. And you will not get it. They are traitors!" His face turning red in indignation, Draavis continued to push his way forward. "They are unworthy of his forgiveness in battle! They are to await transport to Terra and be made examples of." Draavis arrived before Valouran, his aged form covered in the decoration and regalia of his station and Valouran reconsidered his prior assessment. Draavis' face didn't remind him of a stump, more an old boot. "We must hold as loyal servants to the emperor. And only the loyal will serve."

"We have no blast collars anyways, sir, and the sonic emitters are far from ready." Commander Jacob's morose voice added, cutting the tension of Draavis' allegations. "We'll have to do this the old fashioned way sir, blood, las and plasteel."

Valouran glared at Draavis, "Fine. Jacob, alert the Defense Initiative and see about raising a militia. If we can get some derelicts moving we'll need bodies to fill them." Valouran felt sick as he considered the implications for the DI standing alone.

"Orders Sir?"

Valouran cringed. "Prepare the men for Battle. We are men of the Imperium and we'll face this threat head on."

***
DI Barraks, Kelryan Colonial Colony Beta. - 30 Minutes Until Contact.

Von glared suspiciously at his re-assembled las carbine. He'd already cleaned and assembled it twice that hour. He glanced around in need for something else to do. Everyone's nerves were on edge. The impending arrival of a space hulk had seen all the troopers called back from civ-detail. Command hadn't been forthcoming in their details yet and an assembly was promised to begin soon, with a briefing and assignments. All that anyone was willing to tell them had been that this would be an air cavalry maneuver, routine, just as practiced.

The last piece clicked into place. The ETA clock on the wall flashed 3 hours.

A soft cough drew Von's attention to the bunks nearby. Every trooper was coping differently. Sargent Dannel had retired to a bunk nearby; reminding everyone that once the fight began there would be very little time for sleep. They all should get what rest they could. Unfortunately for Von and the rest of his squad, this wasn't likely to happen. Even at the best of times, this barrack's quarters were hard to sleep in. The facility was a mirror of all the hive barracks on the moon. It was originally built to house a spire's garrison of two thousand. It contained four bunk rooms, each containing 500 bunks. This wing now held the whole of Beta Spires force, a full 200 men. It was half empty, and filled with less hope.

Beta Company was composed of 20, 10 man squads, and not one man had seen full combat yet. Only Commander Jacob had served in combat before. Sure, there had been "combat" during riots and minor revolts. But even there, Von had never fired his las gun in earnest. This was to be something different, something everyone in the room feared, but didn't speak of. The ork were known to be vicious, they'd all aided on Helicos 3 during the abandonment of the southern spire. Stories from the local guards serving there had spooked the men from Kelrya.

Heavy boot steps echoed through the hall. The four barracks were set up in a large square with a barracks flanking either side. The main entrance was located centrally, a quadruple row of bunks stretching off from each side. Occupied bunks were closest to the bastion stair wells, and incidentally, furthest from the entrance. The steps continued closer to the hall's entrance, revealing a coms officer as he rounded the corner and clicked his heals to an attention.

"Guardsmen, Lord Commissar Draavis and Commander Jacobs will begin the briefing in five."

Von and the other guards hurried to put away supplies and migrated to the oversized central assembly hall. The hall was designed to brief the entire garrison; the assembled soldiers only occupied the first few rows. The assembly hall was situated as a large circle, with the rows surrounding a central raised dais complete with a massive holoprojector. On the central platform, Commander Jacobs stood at ease. His classical uniform was old; his flak armor was worn, but still serviceable. Along with commander Jacob stood the impressive Lord Commissar Draavis and four of his subordinates. Draavis had been placed planet-side with a cohort of Commissars in training. The young officers were standing at perfect attention, their uniforms immaculate and polished until they glistened.

Once the commotion had died down, Jacobs began to speak. "The Xenos vessel trajectory has shown it to be touching down in 3 hours. We believe their target to be Fenrir's Crater, just outside Beta Spire. We will schedule our arrival to reach the landing zone exactly 5 minutes after touch down. As our numbers will surely not be greater, we will take advantage of the confusion of their landing and hold them at their roc. Armored companies will hold the Ork at their craft while two squads place demolitions." The holoimage rotated to reveal a theoretical view of the crash site. Red and blue dots appeared to represent the clash between forces. "With luck we can hit fast, hold them, and eliminate the threat without engaging the bulk of their force." The scenario continued to unfold, showing massive explosions originating from the hull of the roc, resulting in a cataclysmic destruction of the vessel.

With the completion of the demonstration Jacob began to list squad assignments. As half of the military force was stationed at Alpha Spire, the transports had been divided between the two. Beta Spire was to be the staging point as the travel time was estimated at just under half an hour by armored transport.

"The majority of our force will be led by Commissar Draavis and Governor Valouren. We expect combat along the front to be severe and openings for the demolitions may not be readily present." The holo image adjusted back to the previous combat scenario, but this time depicted a thick circular band of colored dots to show a solid battle front. "As a solution, the manufactorium have been re-servicing five Valkyres." The map now revealed four air transports. "Four squads will be selected to carry demolitions across the front. Each of you will be accompanied and commanded personally by the Imperium's Best." Jacobs began to spout detail orders and squad assignments.

Von listened halfheartedly until Sargent Dannel's squad was called. Demolitions, assigned to Commissar Eaden. Demolitions. Von had seen the basics in training, the demo charges were complicated and frightening things, AND they would be riding in a re-serviced valkyre. While not the assignment Von would have secretly desired, it was a position of great honor which no true man of the Imperium would turn from.

As the assembly ground to a halt they were dismissed, and ordered to appear before their transports in 15, in full service gear. They would rendezvous soon enough with Alpha Company and wait to deploy. The trek back to their bunks was done in silence, some eager with anticipation, others with morose determination. Gear was all fairly standard issue, and not having been assigned any special weapons, Von soon enough had donned his Flak Armour and secured his armaments. The demolitions and experimental Intake decelerators would be assigned to them at the transports.

Sargent Dannel called his squad to attention, and began his inspection. Behind the officers head the ETA clock continued its count down. 2 hours 34 minutes. 2 hours 33 minutes. Sargent Dannel tugged on a flak vest, ensuring it was secure. 2 hours 32 minutes. Sargent Dannel moved on to the next trooper. 0 hours 09 minutes.

0 hours 09 minutes? Sirens began to wail.

A crisp commanding voice sounded down the hall, "BEAT TO QUARTERS!!"

***

ok that's it! I will start up the voting thrread here in a little bit! thanks for everybodies participation. Votind time starts today, 4 July 2011 and will end, 8 July 2011.

Hey! There's still about twelve hours on the deadline! That's very naughty of you, was nearly done and everything.

you are right my bad, go ahead and send it

EDIT: in fact i'll wait for the next one.

Wow guys, i apologize, my grammar was horrendous in that post.

Guys... my fluff about the guardsmen was not completely mine... I made a basis for it, and WarOne made it awesome as it is now, so... I'm sorry I didn't notify this before, but I forgot, and I understand if I'm disqualified.

Is this comp still ongoing?

Now thats honesty for ya. First rate R kid.

This competition is over but there was a second one...
Also over...
Message the OP and see if you can poke him into doing another one.

Did anyone win the second one?

I think so...
We got very few votes though so go figure...