The grey storm clouds rolled in over the war torn hive that was attempting recovery from the destruction brought by both Ork and Astartes. Countless millions of dead civilians and soldiers lay dead all across the world and the general feeling all around was one of doom and gloom. Even if the Orks where gone and the imperium had prevailed. But there where those who asked for what gains beside the dubious honour of being yet another world to be bombed back to stone ages had they gained from staying loyal?
There where powers that could liberate one from the daily toll, and secure a position of strength for those willing to toss of the shackles of oppression and rise up in arms.
But such individuals was yet few and far between... or so most people believed. Others swore to not lift a finger to help the guard forces left behind to guard the ravished world from further predations by the enemies of man.

They came first as mere shadows that crept into the ruined under hive and monitored the movement of both guardsmen and those civilians still dwelling in those dark depths.
It became clear to the observers that the might of the servants of the emperor was feeble at best.

A cadre of fifty warriors stood in silence as their leader removed his helmet that bore the tell tale mark of the hunters, their leader was a veteran of the long war who had for countless centuries brought ruin and death to the savages that infested this galaxy he called home.
His scarred face was a mess of old and recent marks of battle. In his hands he gripped the weapon that had served him for so long, letting out a almost mournful sound he sent a message to his lady.

“Farseer, we have finished our reckon of the sites pointed out to us by the treads of fate. It seems the humans have begun to squabble amongst themselves.” he said and smiled a crooked grin to his second in command,
the reply was as expected. “Well done warrior, the war host is coming but it will take time to make the finale preparations for our task at hand.” the harsh voice of the few beings that could fill his hearth with fear. And without any further communication between the two the link was cut and left the fifty strong reckon party awaiting their kin.

Meanwhile this was taking place other events was taking place, the population tired by war and driven on by anger. Partially provided by agitators that urged the crowd onwards they begun slip into anarchy.
Guardsmen where pelted with stone and broke bottles. But soon these simply objects where replaced by a hail of auto gun fire and the hiss of las weapons as the rabble rouser shifted from protesting to forming a slowly but steadily movement that would spur them onwards to the path of damnation and heresy.

As weeks passed I became clear to the imperial guard commanders that they had a full scale rebellion on their hands. One commander remarked about how quickly the population had gone from outright happy to have them here, to be baying for their blood. And taking up arms against the forces of the guard.
While the fires of rebellion begun to take hold something was awoken in the depth.

A great bone white creation marked by the passing of the ages begun to simmer with energy, swirling patterns of blue and turquoise merged and former new yet more intricate patterns. With a low almost humming sound the portal took its finale shape.


A lone figure appeared and walked calmly out into the great chamber, with eyes that had seen the passing of millenniums the farseerer gestured to her kin to come forth.
Out came those who had been chosen to be her companions and defenders while she undertook her mission here on this wrenched world filled with the barbaric race known as humans.

She stood surrounded by her closest companions. She felt their gaze upon her as she considered the choice of paths this quest could take, oh how she hated to deal with the humans. They seemed to posses the ability to breed rebellion and strife by simply being alive, or being more than two at a time in any sort of environment.
Grasping the spear and pulling her blood red cloak around herself she spoke.
“This world is doomed, it will die in a cataclysm of fire and brimstone. We will be the spark that set the fire free. They will all die here on this forsaken rock.”

One of her warlocks stood some distance away from the others, his mind lost in a web of options and repercussions to said options. It seemed to him that the very fabric of fate where tangled like the wild and unkempt hair of a beast of sorts.
He seeked the lone tread he needed to find, but as ever finding the right tread was hard. But he pressed on, sweat pooling down his old and worn face. Just as he was about to abandon the search he found, hidden amongst countless lesser treads he managed to hold on to it. Speaking with a weary tone in his voice announced his success. His comrades gathered round and lent him a hand as he regained his footing.

“I have seen the promises of the future and its contents fills me with woe. It seems darkness is gathering like a brooding storm. If the dark prevails I fear all will be lost.”

Upon hearing this words his fellow warlocks merely stood silent, one of them reached out to their lady and bid her to join them. She did not speak a word, only intent on hearing the message.

“ We came to set this world ablaze and sacrifice countless lives to stave of the threat of the green skins to our craft world. But as I delved in the realm of fate I became clear of a new and far greater menace. The living nightmare is coming for this world and all who stands upon it. We can not let them fall my kin.” he concluded.

The farseerer nodded upon hearing these grave words, and with a nod of her head new plans where put into motion. The warriors of a fallen god destined to rule the stars and layed low by treachery would not stand alone.

As Dire avengers, the citizen soldiers of the guardians and the rangers marched to war beside towering wraith lords and sleek but deadly falcons the men who struggled to defend this world had gained a new ally. But even with these fresh souls victory against the nightmare that the Tyrannids represented was guaranteed.

“To war my kin, to war and ruin under a blood red sky.” the farseerer said as she donned her ghost helmet and gripped her singing spear.

Wow this could turn out to be an epic struggle with so many factions coming into play. Nice hope to read more soon.

This is an excellent intro. Very nicely written.

This is pretty amazing!!!

It's a nice read, but you need a new Shift-key Trondheim. This one seem to be broken.

Aside from that it's nicely paced and I like the story, I would maybe however have liked more details around the Imperial Commander who pondered how the populace had gone from content to rebellious, there you have an excellent opportunity for drama (which I'm a slave to).

Of course it's my viewpoint, and you are free to disregard as you see fit Trondheim.

Cool stuff!

Thank you all for the feedback. And no, my shift key works very well. Its the transition from the text program I use to Dakka that makes it such.

Running like a whipped dog sergeant Erik barely managed to get across the war torn street, breathing heavily he cursed his rotten luck and dared to peek out of cover. Some fifty meters downwind a huge mob of citizens where unleashing a storm of auto guns and lasguns their way.
What they made up for in good aim they made sure to compensate for with sheer volume of fire he thought as a round slammed into the pillar right next to his head.

“For fraks sake! Someone suppress those arses” cursed over the voxnet and to his dismay got noting but static. He was all that remained of his platoon, the rest of the 227th Anaheim light foot regiment was slowly falling apart under the onslaught from both Orks and rebels. They where not trained not equipped for these kinda prolonged and bloody urban conflicts. They where masters of ambushes and reconnaissance mission in the wild or in rural areas.
They had been deployed here as a temporary occupation force until other more suitable solutions could be brought to bear upon the world. It had not taken long however for things to start going sour for them.
Being a somewhat poorly equipped and undermanned regiment fresh out of the Sabbath world crusades they expected this deployment to be a refit and reinforcing one. Hence the general mood was rather bright. But this all changed when the first bomb detonated and took the life of their senior commander and several officers. Almost over night the locals went from thankful to hostile, the base compound was subjected to riots and attempts at storming it.
Taking stock of what he had left of munitions he rammed a fresh magazine into his lasgun and took aim down street. If he where to get out of this mess he needed to thin them out a bit.
Firing with the skills honed of a lifetime spent at war he begun to drop those foul rebels. But he soon realized it was like pissing into the wind, rather useless and a waste of shots. As he begun to look for an alternative way of escape he muttered a silent prayer to the Emperor. Being a pious man he took pride in his devotion and worship of the father of mankind. Knowing he only prayed for deliverance he did not expect a immediate answer but as events around him unfolded he indeed got his divine intervention sooner than expected.
Like a trio of shadows the figures moved amongst the rubble, they long cloaks concealing them form sight. Each of them was armed with a long slender rifle that itself was a work of art and technological grandeur. The leader apparent raised a hand and the other two stopped as turned into stone.
Activating the com link he spoke with a soft voice. “ We have reached our destination, it seems the rabble are content with killing their own. “
listening to the reply and with a single word he closed the link, their task clear at hand and their weapons eager for a fight they took aim as one.
“Make them fear the shadows my kin” he said and sent the first shot racing towards its target.
It hit like a meteor striking a planet, slamming into the skull of a rebel and disintegrating it in a shower of gore and bone, the now dead rebel dropped to the ground with a thud and left his comrades dazed for a moment before panic begun to rear its head as a steady stream of shots claimed yet more life’s.
The lone guardsman who had taken shelter heard the unmistakeable ring of sniper rifles as the fire that was coming his way begun to ease up. His spirit rose when he saw the dead that littered the ground and the mob beginning to disperse. Trying his vox link again he felt rather pleased about it all. Even if his squad lay dead and the whole bloody war was going south faster than you could say Ork.
“Command come in! Any friendly snipers operating near the old trade district?” he asked and awaited a reply.
There where a short moment when all he got was static but then a voice broke trough it all.
“Negative no friendly snipers operating anywhere in this city sergeant.”

“Feth it command! I just saw a mob get waxed by one or more snipers! And you tell me no friendly snipers are operating? Who you suggest are then?” the rather weary and now somewhat paranoid sergeant said and begun to quicken his pace as he ran for friendly lines with his breath ragged and the taste of blood pounding at the back of his mouth
“Okay sergeant, thanks for the heads up and stay safe” the vox operator said and cut the link with a flick of the switch. The man let out a deep breath and lit himself another Ilho stick and fixed his weary gaze upon some distant point in the broken skyline of the city.
Meanwhile the tree spectres who had delivered volley upon volley of precise and deadly shots looked down upon the now eerily quiet streets, only faint sounds of gunfire and the odd guttural war cry from one of the green skinned brutes could be heard. It seemed the last survivors of the ork invasion was putting up a stiff fight but even their unending lust for war could not hope to match the forces arrayed against them. It would only be a mater of time before the humans killed the last one.
But there was something far deadlier that had their attention than mere mop up operations conducted by the humans. The devourer was already present on this world, not a full invasion but something just as deadly if not as numerous. A lone hunter stalked these ruins, it was a foe even they knew better than to disregard as a simple mindless beast. To do such a thing was to invite certain death lather on.

“Farseer we have done as instructed, the rebellious ones are no more.” the leader said and looked down upon the enemy dead with a rather unpleasant taste in his mouth, god how those barbarians reeked of filth. Had they never heard of personal hygiene?

Meanwhile sergeant Erik of the Anaheim 227th had reached the place he had been making his way to, greeted by fellow troopers and in relative security behind the fortifications of the compound he allowed himself to fall into a deep and dreamless sleep after delivering the dog tags of his fallen comrades in arms. And giving a lengthy report on his encounter with the unidentified sniper or snipers who has aided him in his quest for friendly lines.
While both Eldar and man prepared for what was to come when the sun yet rose something else stirred from its resting place, it reared to its full height and cast a baleful glance down upon the world below. Feet driven by immensely strong muscles and long scything talons helped it navigate the heights and a pair of keen eyes observed anything that was of interest. Growling like a beast of the legends of old it fixed its gaze upon the collections of camp fires that blazed in the ruins of a old imperial church. Tonight was the night of the hunter, the stalker that hunted man and ork alike. Tonight was the time of the lictor.

Treads of Fate. Holy tanks of the Emperor!

Woo! Lictors!

Alright, so we have... Eldar, Guardsmen, Rebels, Orks, and now Tyranids. Damn, this gunna be crazy to keep track of.

I liked the end lines most of all. Yeah it's guna be crazy, but it should be good

The possibilities here are truly exciting.

So much scope for so much varied mayhem.

I'll try not to grow attached to any characters, as I reckon the death toll will be through the roof ...

 Necroagogo wrote:
The possibilities here are truly exciting.

So much scope for so much varied mayhem.

I'll try not to grow attached to any characters, as I reckon the death toll will be through the roof ...

We can only hope

Sergeant Erik woke up and felt like hell, his body ached and throbbed. Attempting to get up from the makeshift bed he had slept in for some twelve hours, his body did not take kindly to the amount abuse it had received. He knew that age was taking its toll of him but he still managed to turn heads when he stretched. Reaching for his jacket and boots he cursed this damned world and anything not wearing a imperial eagle on their shoulder.
Having dressed and feeling somewhat alive he walked out in to the day that awaited him. Outside he was greeted by a trooper he knew, asking for news about the regiment he only got grim news. It seemed of the almost thousand men that had set out two days he was the lone survivor. Thus the regiment that had on deployment been fifteen thousand strong was reduced down to a mere five thousand. This loss added to the other casualties taken in the last month had left the men still alive ragged and on edge. Lighting a Ilho stick he drew a deep smoke filled breath and began to make his way to the briefing that was due to start in a few minutes.
Sitting beside a buxom and rather pretty Cadian captain he tried to keep his mind on the briefing, and not the absolute clusterfrak the manoeuvre him and his boys had tried on. The sheer amount of rebels and the way they had turned on them made his hair stand on edge. It was then he realized he would most likely die here on this bloody world but by the power of all things holy he would sure as hell die fighting.
Looking to his side he saw the captain blink at him and as she passed him a small paper note with details far from mission oriented he realized a smile had crept onto his weather worn face.

Farseer Lothica gazed upon the myriads of threads that surrounded her as she sat in silent meditation, her face not revealing the swirling chaos inside her as she consider the countless options she had layed out before her. She was unlike most of her kin, her face ruined by a long and hideous scar that ran from the line of her black hair and further down beneath her robes to the harsh and ice cold voice of hers. She was considered by many of her kin to be a mistress of ice and hate alone but none could deny her prowess as a seer and as a warrior. Her body bore the evidence to back those claims up. Letting out a sigh she ended her attempt at finding inner calm and rose from her place of rest.
Exciting the small chamber that was her own she found herself flanked by her two most senior warlocks and the eerily figure of the Banshee exarch. That woman was one of few that could claim to be her match with a bladed weapon and yet she was so far apart from herself as one could possibly become, lost upon the path of the warrior she had become a spectre of death whenever she left the shrine she called home back on the craft world. To see one who could have risen to untold heights being held in one path alone made her hearth weep and her mind damn all those who had caused the Eldar so much grief.

Followed by her bodyguards she stepped out into the day, a cold wind swept across the compound and greeted her with its cold embrace. The sky was the colour of steel and showed promises of rain.
“Show me then warlock, display the reason for dragging me out into the cold!” she said with poorly concealed annoyance, her old injuries ached but the pain was only a fleeting notion and something she had become used to living with. Even if it did cause her suffering.


The one in question did not delay in doing so, he lead the group over to where several rangers stood motionless with their long rifles slung over their shoulders. The leader bowed deeply for her and begun to tell of the discovery they had made.
“The camp was noting short of a charrnelhouse, the humans who had occupied it had been ripped to shreds. At first we assumed it was the work of the Orks or perhaps Astartes, but we found no spent shell casings or footprints. What we did find however was far, far more disheartening. The massacrer was the work of a single creature.” he said and paused for a drink of water from his flask. Putting the flask down he continued.
“It is my firm belief that a vanguard organism did track them, and ultimately attacked and killed them all. However the best was wounded it seemed. We found several large pools of ichor that could only have come from a Tyrannid.”
Reviving these news she took a moment to form a acceptable response.
“I see ranger, you and your brethren have my thanks. I will ask one more thing of you however, find that beast and slay it! You will be given what you need to do so, name it and it shall be yours.”
The seasoned wanderer nodded and offered a few words of thanks before turning to discuss with his fellows.

As she walked away she said to her warlocks.
“prepare the host for battle! Too long have my kin gone without battle. We will strike at these fools and show them the wrath of the Eldar!”
The ones in question nodded and left her to preform their tasks, this left her with only the Banshee exarch as a guardian. And that suited her just fine, she knew her old comrade seldom felt the need to talk or other things. She was too busy reliving battles past and the coming ones to nurture social relations.

While the Eldar begun to form up for battle someone else was busy with something else. Sergeant Erik lay on his back and let out a sigh of pleasure, well he never imagined briefings could end in that way. His chest and biceps was covered in marks left by the nails of the Cadian Captain who had slipped him a note informing him of her interest in a private post briefing “consultation”.
After watching her rather half heartedly getting dressed and walking out of the conference room he too got his uniform back on and made sure to get any lipstick washed away. The last thing he wanted was to bump into that snarling wildcat of a Commissar with traces of red lipstick on his chin. Granted she knew the men was weary and all that followed but by the Emperor one thing she enforced with a iron hard hand was that all on duty personnel should appear somewhat awake and cleaned up.
He entered the communication bunker some time later and walked over to the same vox operator he had talked to while inquiring about the unknown snipers.
“Any news for me and the lads? And one more thing Id appreciate if you would do for me, let me know if anyone else run into those unseen helpers of mine.” the private nodded and informed him that there was no news that had not been discussed at the briefing. Deciding that he should get his men brought up to speed on their new task at hand he left the smoke filled communication bunker and once more stepped out into the increasingly could day.

Nicely written. That Lictor ain't gonna go down easy.

Oh rest assured, the Xeno will play a important role in this story, and thank you LoneLictor

Lictors are the greatest thing to ever happen to 40k. They're giant Cthulu commando assassins with hooves, claws, and scything talons.

Liked this chapter alot, well done

I think you maybe your setting us up for a mighty clash of swirling dust and choke of battle. With the odd screams of battle rage, the roaring of the guns, and clatter of arms with the sounds of the dying as an under tone thrown in. Can't wait.

Good to hear we agree on the Lictors! I first had a Carnifex cast for that role, but then I realized a monster the size of a house would hardly manage stealt. And as for battles, when have I not included one or more of those

This story is awesome!! please continue

The beast growled and its talons flexed as it disregarded the last of the prey items it had claimed. It had felt the sting of the prey several time and it had felt its ichor dripping down onto the cold ground. Its chitin covered form shuddered as it sucked the last remains of the brains out of the head it grasped in its nimble mandible.
The head with a bloody hole punched straight through is left eye socket fell down and joined the others who lay there gaping with eyes frozen in terror. Having gained what it needed to speed up the mending of its wounds the lictor flickered its tale and begun to move at great speed due west, it followed a familiar trail of pheromones.

Scrambling across a burnt out wreck and the corpses of dead rebels the beast propelled by powerful legs landed with a thud on the roof, it stood there for a moment as if regaining its breath before once more breaking into a pace of speed almost unimaginable for a creature its since. Anyone who could have seen the glitter in its eyes would have sworn the beast looked like it was enjoying itself. Raising its scything talons to grab hold of a broken ledge and hauling itself up it found itself looking down upon a raging battle. Below the green prey fought the pale prey in a territorial battle it seemed like to its bestial mind.
Emitting a low grumble it was about to hunker down when a tingeing sense told it was being targeted by unseen pray intent on killing it. Leaping high up into the air and turning before landing the beast let out a fierce howl and looked for its foe, it was then a shimmering streak of light missed its head by a mere inch.
Realizing its foe was not in the immediate surroundings it activated its biopowerd cloak and vanished as if into thin air. However the beast felt the urge to shed blood creep into its mind. And a familiar inner sense told it to seek the hidden foe and usurp its mind.

It spotted a faint hint of movement a hundred meters or so ahead of it and began to make its way there while maintaining its cover. As it drew nearer its mandibles started to flicker and the great talons was poised to strike.
It was then it realized the prey had deceived it, a howl that would have broken the mind of any other mortal creature echoed across the roofs and shell marked town squares. A prey with blood red and glittering skin armed with two shimmering objects of biting vaulted over a rubble pile and came rushing towards it. Behind this foolish prey several others appeared armed with those hated long weapons that spat biting rays of light.
However now it had its prey where it wanted it, dropping the cloak it rose up and snapped angry with its scything talons, launching itself forwards intent on tackling and ripping the prey apart then making its escape it came on hard. But its prey simply melted away and rewarded it with a stinging bite in its left flank. The beats now realized what kind of foe it faced, this was no normal prey. But a leader prey that needed to be handled with care and disposed of accordingly.

Exarch Nimrosa stood silently as a statue as the ranger took the shot, and she watched with a small sense of pleasure as the shot missed the foul beast and alerted it to their presence. Perhaps she would get to slay it herself and claim its head for the bloody handed god. The rangers alerted her to the approaching beast and the seasoned warrior sprung into action, her powerful frame allowed her to vault and bypass the obstacles in her way as she raced to intercept the foul creature. Seeing a faint reflection of light upon its hide she activated the mask she wore and howled her mournful and hateful song of battle.
Her mirror swords was drawn from the scabbards as she landed in front of the beast and looked upon her prey, its massive frame and coal black skin broken up by old wounds and new ones was like a map showing of its time spent rampaging this world.
When it delivered the first blow towards her she had anticipated and simply melted out of its path while rewarding it with two fast but rather shallow cuts to its flank. That seemed to trigger a change in how the beast viewed her as a opponent.

Snarling behind her mask she dashed forwards and jabbed upwards with her blades, only to connect with two immensely strong paws that gripped the blades and in one fell twist shattered them, showering the both of them in a fountain of razor sharp shrapnel.
Now she knew she was doomed to die on this roof, managing to avoid a swipe from one of the scything talons she looked for a weapon of sorts. Seeing a long slender iron pipe she made a dash for and picked it up with steady hands.

Kill prey now! Rend and tear then flee! Was the commands the voice muttered in its mind as the alpha broke the two annoying prey things who had drawn blood from it. Striking with its talons it barely missed and snarled in displeasure. The main pray had found a new tool to wield as a weapon, the long thing looked like it would not harm its chitin covered body and as it drew closer it could almost smell and taste the brain of the prey. Yes the hive mind would use this prey to gain more knowledge.

“Get out of the way Nimrosa” the ranger yelled and attempted to line up a shot, he felt a shiver of dread creeping up his spine as he viewed the two fighters duke it out.
Nimrosa was being forced backwards by the sheer ferocity by the attacks of the alpha lictor. She was a very capable warrior but this beast strained her skills, but she relished the thrill of battle and the rush of adrenaline surging in her veins. But suddenly the beast managed knock her down and pinned her down with both of its scything talons. Just as it raised its paw to strike a shot hammered into its left leg making its screech in agony.
The beast growled in anticipation of the kill to come, and raised its paws to rip it apart and savour its brain, it knew it needed to make the kill fast and then disappear. But as it was about to do so a stabbing pain blossomed in its left leg. Howling it forgot the prey before it and a new directive came to mind. Run! Hide! Recover then resume hunt for prey!
With a last screech of anger the lictor made its escape as the downed banshee was helped to her feet by the rangers who had provided aid when she needed it. Blood pooling where she had been brought down, the beast had escaped them but not for long. The rangers would resume their hunt when they had made sure the downed Exarch had been given over to those who could tend to he hands of those who would mend her wounds and make her fit for combat once again.

As they left the roof who had been their battleground a pair of eyes followed them, hidden in a burnt out tower it watched them disappear into the maze of ruined streets. Rumbling as if angered by their behaviour it slammed its talons into the wall in a outburst of anger and animalistic behaviour. It was I no shape to pursue them but the pheromones one of the rangers had accidentally stepped in would later be enough o guide it after them. And then no one would escape its ambush.

Who said you couldn't write from a nids point of view, that was very well done and i liked it very much, good work!

My I just say sir that that was AWESOME

gak, that fight was insane. You described it really well, to the point where I started visualizing it and reading it was almost like watching a movie.

Damn, Lictors are badass.

 LoneLictor wrote:
gak, that fight was insane. You described it really well, to the point where I started visualizing it and reading it was almost like watching a movie.

Damn, Lictors are badass.

Thanks and glad you found the beast savage enough,

Farseer Lothica looked down upon the dying man laying on the ground before her, his guts a bloodied mess as a direct result of the last blow she had delivered. All around her the last of the human rebels where being put out of their misery, either by sword or by gun the aspect warriors ended these primitive brutes suffering. However this one would get no such thing as a easy or pain free death. This was the leader of the rabble and he would die according to his traitorous standards.
Yanking her spear free she spat on the whimpering mortal and left him to die in agony.
Her Dire Avengers had preformed as they always did, reading the battle like a seer might read fate or the future they had cut the defenders to ribbons while the rangers had picked f heavy weapon crews and such foes from afar. But what had broken the defenders of this heavily fortified compound was the trio of Wrath lords who towered above their kin, and who had brought their immense power to bear upon their foe. Sweeping trenches and wrecking the enemy armour they had broken the enemy. Now they stood silent and unmoving but ready to spring into life if needed once again. Their wraith swords who looked to the untrained eye to be cast from bronze glittered in the sun.

As she walked to rejoin her warlocks and the leader of the Dire Avengers a voice she knew and loved spoke to her in her mind.
“The battle is won, as it was foreseen. We walk the path of fire and war once again, for this you have our thanks.”
Turning to look at the one who had spoken those words who sent shivers of longing down her spine a single tear dripped down her chin, and fell to the ground as a leaf might do in autumn.
The speaker was the Wraith lord who stood nearest to her, once he had been a shining example to the whole craft world but now he was reduced to this form of life. Only kept alive by his soul stone.
“You need not thank me my love, hearing your voice is like the sound of paradise to me.” she replied and found it remarkable hard to keep her posture when a well of emotions suddenly came to life in her wounded hearth.
To this the lord of wraiths had no reply, he only seemed to dip his massive form in a bow to her and then turn to once again loose himself in the memories of days long past.

None of those observing this spoke about it, they knew all too well not to ask any questions regarding the unlikely pair. For that was to tempt the wrath of the farseerer who could rival any other creature when her ire was up, and her veins throbbed with almost uncontrolled rage.


Meanwhile while the Eldar counted the slain and returned to their war camp something else was also on the hunt for prey.
The alpha moved with a slight limp along the rubble strewn street, no one was to be seen or smelled. This calmed it and allowed it to focus on tracking, a foul stench filled its nostrils as it sought to find the green prey who had left these tracks. If a beast such as this could have worn a face of utter disgust ti would have done so. The green things tasted rather bad and the smell they made was not pleasant either, but the worst thing was their habit of travelling in large and well armed groups. Even a lone green was a dangerous and challenging foe for it.

As it turned the corner it found itself looking directly at a massive green surrounded by other massive ones too, countless others also swarmed around it. This was something that made the beast forget any thoughts about prey and more concerned with avoiding detection. A fight with all thee prey would have dire consequences the familiar voice told it.
Hide and then seek out the leader prey, slay and devour under the cloak of dark the new directions told it.

“What you mean the rebels are all dead? Did they all bloody shoot themselves!” asked a rather annoyed Sergeant Erik as the lowly private told of what they had discovered while out on a patrol. It was not that he minded dead rebels, far from it. But he did mind having a unknown force going about and assaulting heavily fortified compounds and then butchering anyone in it without leaving any casualties behind. As he stood there and fumed and tried to make sense of it all the shaking private who was one of the new arrivals into this war dropped something down on the desk in front of him.

“We also found this embedded in a wall, one of the other lads managed to get it out though."
this caught the attention of the sergeant who almost dropped the cup of recaff he was holding and muttered a low curse.

“Bloody hell! Well this is bad, you have any frakking idea what this is private!” he asked in a rather excited voice.
“Uh some kinda shrapnel?” the young boy asked and begun to look somewhat worried.
Getting to his feet and grabbing his jacket and indicating that he should follow the sergeant begun to walk at a brisk pace while giving him the answer.
“No far from it, this bloody thing is a piece of spent Eldar munitions for those xeno weapons of theirs! Oh and private you got a new rank, you are as of now field promoted to corporal for handing over this piece of the puzzle!” the sergeant said as the pair set a straight course for the command bunker.

Why do I have the feeling that Sergeant Erik is about to have his brain eaten by a Lictor?

Great new entry.

well he got his jollies so least he can die with a smile on his face Nicely written, more please.

sounds like there is gonna be a showdown between the ork warboss and the tyranid alpha lictor!! cant wait need more!

The command bunker was busy as always when the two men walked in,one a gaunt and scarred man who drew near to the age of forty years, while the second was a young boy barely out of his teens. The sergeant patted his young comrade in arms on the back and said.
“Tell them what you told me, and try to relax. You did bloody well out there, any of the lads who where with you will swear upon that.”
Drawing a small bottle containing Amasec he offered some to the nervous and newly promoted youth. The boy took the flask with some hesitation and took a sip, and promptly gasped for air. Handing the bottle back and coughing he muttered several words that would have peeled paint of walls.

“Not much of a drinker eh? “ asked Erik and put the flask away while grinning like a wolf.
“No sir, cant say I am. You know how us city boys are” the boy said and regained his posture.
Nodding in approval of the answer Erik lead the way for the last stretch until they reached the main C&C room.
As they turned the corner they found themselves looking directly into the barrels of several hell guns. The cadre of storm troopers who stood guard took no chances, even with people they had seen come and go countless times before. Each visitor was searched for weapons and hidden items while under heavy guard.
Satisfied the two troopers from the 227th Anaheim light foot where not rebels or anything like that they opened the heavy blast doors and allowed them entrance.

Inside sat a score of officers and other Imperial personnel and awaited the news the duo was carnying, but the figure that caught their eyes first was the gaunt and stern faced commissar who walked in behind them with one hand resting on her power sword. She was a imposing woman who had on several occasions proved crucial when the heat of battle raged. She was as skilled with the sword as she was at putting the fear of the god emperor back into those who thought they could avoid doing their part in the war effort. As a wraith clad in black she took her reserved seat at the back of the room and sat down with her great coat hugging her frame.

Erik got the go ahead to begin telling the assembled officers and command staff what one of his reckon squads had stumbled upon.

“ladies, gents and commissar. As you are aware of one of my reckon teams made a discovery early this morning that could in my humble opinion have a great impact on the war we are trying to win.”
With those words spoken he nodded to the tech priest who flicked a switch and much to the amusement of the assembled men and women he cursed in binary and kicked the holo projector hard when a improper image appeared on the screen. The screen flickered once more and a recording began to play, it showed a compound layed in ruins by a unknown force, and hundreds of rebels put to the sword. Great craters covered the ground and the smouldering wrecks of tanks and transports could be seen on the blurry screen.
The voices of men who was used to war and carnage but seldom had seen anything like this could be heard while the one operating the camera remained silent. As the film progressed the audience could see the crucified remains of what seemed to be the leader of the rebels. The man had been gutted by a blade of sorts and then had been nailed to a massive door who had been blown of its hinges.

Then the camera went black and the presentation ended. It was then the good sergeant and his newly promoted companion displayed the shuriken star the young man had secured as a potential clue to who or what had committed the slaughter .


“Before anyone says anything about damned Xenos and such let me say what we all are thinking” the colonel and got to his feet. Looking to his assembled men he composed himself despite the wounds who caused him much pain and said.
“Everyone here knew this was not going to be a easy one. Lord knows we have enough with the blasted green skins and rebels thrown into one massive frakfest without those damned Eldar creeping about! Instruct your men to take no unnecessary risks, we need everyone alive and kicking if we are going to managed to break the deadlock we are currently in. I got word from th higher ups that we can expect reinforcements in three weeks time. Until then we are all that holds this place. Now up and at them boys and girls” he said and slumped back down onto his chair with a horrid mask of pain on his face.

As the officers filed out Erik and Thomas could see the commissar kneeling beside the colonel and handing him a packet of painkillers and a reassuring pat on the shoulder. The bond between the two was well know. Both where as if made of the hardest steel but with the occasional soft spot emerging to show than they had not lost their humanity along the way. More importantly was the fact both knew, soldiers needed leaders who was not afraid of facing the music even if it meant death and serious harm to one self.

“Keep that in mind lad! You will be hard pressed to find a more reliable ally if you need one in the commissar. She is far more than a simply tool for keeping cowards in line, she is the glue that binds us all together in the hard times we face. Add that to the bond that already exist in the regiment and you get a rock hard foundation to build on.” Erik said and lead the way back to barracks.
While the two Anaheimers walked back in silence with only the howling and bitterly cold wind as company the colonel suffered horrid pains while the commissar never left his side. She sat by his bed and held his hand as the waves of agony assailed him.
No one who could have seen her tear drenched eyes and red face would have thought of her as a figure of dread and nightmares to new recruits and those who sought to slip away from duty.

The plot thickens, nice chapter. Setting out some characters I see, lets hope we don't learn to love them too much as they are in a war zone after all

Another nice entry.

Its a shame that all of those characters are prob'ly gonna die.

Why is the speech in italics?

 purplefood wrote:
Why is the speech in italics?

Why not?

 Trondheim wrote:

 purplefood wrote:
Why is the speech in italics?

Why not?

That's not really an answer...
I just wanted to know if there was a specific reason you put them in italics. It's usually used for thoughts or for emphasising something.

 purplefood wrote:

 Trondheim wrote:

 purplefood wrote:
Why is the speech in italics?

Why not?

That's not really an answer...
I just wanted to know if there was a specific reason you put them in italics. It's usually used for thoughts or for emphasizing something.

Well when I have always done this when telling a story in text form it is.

Dawn found the men and women of the still standing imperial guard regiments on the offensive, they had been tasked with punching a hole straight trough the rebel lines, to achieve this they had assembled what forces could be spared from the other ongoing operations in the city.

As they advanced along the ruined high way and past broken remains of homes and once vast and thriving mark places the one thing that stuck the men was the eerie silence. Beside the shuffling of feet and other sounds it was quiet, too quiet in fact as one trooper pointed out while the regiment paused to gain a better sense of their surroundings and bearings.
It was then that the ambush was sprung, without knowing it they had stumbled onto a major rebel force who had dug in and awaited the arrival of the imperial forces. Now caught between the two lines the 227th Anaheim regiment would be hard pressed to survive let alone advance.
It began with a single sniper shot taking down a man standing on the top of a burnt out chimera. The man fell down and lay there drowning in his own blood as his comrades rushed to cover and looked for the gunner.
The sniper shot was followed by a torrent of bolter fire and auto guns being unleashed upon them alongside mortars and the odd missile who left a streak of white smoke as they whizzed past and detonated in a shower of shrapnel and heat.
Many died in those first few and chaotic moments but many more survived and managed somehow to scramble for cover. Amongst the ruins they could see the camo clad figures of the rebels close in to make their assault upon the way layed regiment.

“Get your bloody head down!” Erik barked and yanked the trooper down on the ground beside him in the shallow trench they where laying in. over their heads a hailstorm of enemy fire chewed up the ground and the burnt out buildings, the rebels had managed to drag a pair of heavy bolters to the rubble strewn staircases in a building as was using the flat roof as a elevated position to lay down a steady stream of fire. And such buying their comrades time and room to manoeuvre and fight back with a chance for victory.

“Anyone care to kill those gunners?” he asked over the vox in a rather stressed tone. He could hear the chatter of other troopers asking for back up or reinforcements while the vox operators attempted to sort all of this madness into a somewhat coherent list of requests and demands from the troops in the field. As he wondered if anyone had heard his request and was about to tell his marksman to try and get a shot of at the gunner. A familiar sound could be heard over the din of battle.
The sound of tank tracks creeping over the rubble and shots pinging of the armour was something any guardsman could learn to love and pray for.

“Try not to get your pants in a twist each time someone tosses a few pieces of lead your way eh sergeant” the tank commander said as he issued a series of commands to his crew.
Stopping and traversing its turret the massive leman russ tank took aim and fired its massive cannon. The sound was like that of a immense explosions to the troops who covered nearby. Dust flew everywhere and a smell of cordite filled the air. The shot was followed by a long rattling salvo from the two sponson mounted bolters and the hiss of the hull mounted las cannon. Th rooftop gunners was hit by the full force of the detonation as the shell detonated just above their heads and turned them into a fine red mist mixed with the flames and smoke of the explosion. While the other shots fired by the tank slammed into the building and drove anyone still left alive into cover.
Not satisfied with their initial volley the tank crew reloaded and let another shot slam into the building. As a result of this a section of it collapsed and the rest tilted at a hazardous angle while dust and smoke rose from it.

“bloody well done! I own you one gunner” Erik said and signalled for his men to begin advancing once more, the rebels who had now lost one of the anchor points in their ambush line begun to realize that they where about to be flanked and most likely gunned down.
The men of the Anaheim 227th had now a chance to push these bastards back and end them once and for all, at least in this part of the world. Despite being a light infantry regiment they had over the last months learned to deal with these urban surroundings. But they knew they needed to reach open land and such to use their skills to the full, victory here would allow them to do so. fuelled by this and a wish to avenge fallen comrades they pressed on. Back up by Cadian shock troops and the rolling thunder of the two armour detachments they hit like a hammer.
Having gained the upper hand the ambush was slowly starting to turn into a counter assault on the rebel lines. Dashing amongst the ruins and avoiding fire while fighting a brutal and merciless running battle the surviving.
Pausing for a second to regain their breath the spearhead made up of the men of the 227th cast their eyes upon the line of well dug and concealed trenches from where the rebels had struck, high ramparts of earth greeted their eyes while fire hammered them.

“We need to take that bloody line! First platoon with me, rest follow corporal Henderson and take the second one over there. Rest pull back and regroup with the Cadians and guide them here.” Erik said and spat blood and dust while taking a deep sip of his canteen flask.
“On my mark we lob whatever you have left of explosives, then run like the arch traitor himself was after you! Stop and you die.” he said and readied his last frag grenade while others readied satchel charges and grenades.
Towards the smoking ramparts they went, grenades and detonation satchels clearing the way. The group of some hundred men charged over the top while cursing the enemy on the other side, once over they where treated to a hellish hand to hand struggle. One man was struck with a entrenching shovel in the face and fell screaming down while clutching his cleaved and bleeding face.
The swirling fight was gory and not what they where accustomed to, but in moments like this the men of both sides fought like the heroes of old.
A shotgun blast ripped one Anaheimer down and the shooter let another blast fly but missing badly.
Erik saw the trooper go down and swore, another one dead and gone. He rammed his broad bladed combat knife into the neck of the man he was squaring of against and kicked him so hard that he hard the ribs crack.
Around his men had managed to get the upper hand, partially to the hail of grenades but also due to their training. And in his own mind their zeal and faith in the emperor. When the last rebel fell some forty of the hundred men who had assaulted the trench lay dead or dying on the blood soaked ground. While the dying where granted the emperors mercy and the dead disposed of he issued orders with a weary tone.


“okay form up and move on. This party is far from done, I want noise discipline and eyes sharp.” he finished and begun pulling his blade out of the dead rebel who had soiled her pants before dying with a plea for mercy on her filthy lips.
As he did so he saw his vox operator go pale as a bed sheet. The normally lively man signaled for hi to come over to him, the sergeant noticed that the man was shaking and beads of seat was drifting down his face.
“Umm sir I got bad news... really bad news. Orks by the shipload just begun attacking the Cadian 357th and 358th. HQ says the fighting is a bloody meat grinder. All units are to break of from their current task and reinforce the Cadians.”

“Well bugger all. Okay get the word out and inform HQ we are beginning our move, we are going to try to hit the flank of the Ork attack near the ruined high way due north east. “ Erik said and sighed before lighting a Ilho stick and sticking a fresh magazine into his lasgun.
He gathered his men and together both officers and privates begun their speedy march towards the grim battle raging in the north east. Alongside them the tanks of the 45th Vanaheim armor regiment detachment group C followed them with banners and exhausts pipes belching smoke towards he sky.

“The humans clash with both rebels and green skins my lady. What do you command us to do?” said the trio of warlocks in a unison voice while bowing before her. Each of them awaiting any instructions she might give them like a eager hound staring at the leash.
The farseerer rose from her place of rest and looked the three in the eyes with a glare that would have driven lesser creatures mad with fear for the coming storm of wrath boiling behind her eyes.

“Unleash the war host upon them all! butcher anyone who is not crucial to the plans we have layed! No one lives with the exception of the Imperials! Fate has decreed that they have yet a part to play in the cosmic puzzle.” as she spoke the barely audible footsteps of someone stopped by her side.
Turning she saw the leader of the banshees, the howling warrior women standing there clad in the finest suit of armor available to her. Her hands gripped a long slender weapon while her mirror swords rested upon her hips.
The woman still bore the marks left by the lictor upon her face, but she seemed not to be bothered to any great length by these. The two veteran warriros spoke not a word between them, simply bowed to each other and shared a moment of solitude.
The Banshee left the seer standing alone in the great vault with only the age worn stone walls to witness her tears shed for a companion who went to seek out the prey she had between overcome by.

Some words need changing and completing but apart from that I thought it was rather good, a bit of action mixed with a bit of thought and mystry, nice.

What's so special about the humans I wonder?

(Random Eldar quote) The threads of fate can be spun and broken with ease, tread carefully Farseer, for you tread on my hopes and dreams.

 Trondheim wrote:

 purplefood wrote:

 Trondheim wrote:

 purplefood wrote:
Why is the speech in italics?

Why not?

That's not really an answer...
I just wanted to know if there was a specific reason you put them in italics. It's usually used for thoughts or for emphasizing something.

Well when I have always done this when telling a story in text form it is.

I'd change it, you use it a lot. It's kinda off-putting... makes me think they are thinking something and not saying it... or they are singing which I guess they could be doing...

The new entry isn't bad, it's just... I dunno, I'm not sure how to put this into words. The combat doesn't feel like combat. It feels more like a list of things that happened during the fight. The fight with the Lictor felt more real. I would suggest trying to include more little details and that sort of thing in your writing. Make it vivid.

Still, it isn't bad. I liked it, but I feel like it could be improved.

Your rigth LL, it had a lot of room for said things. Will try to sort it out for the next, or do you think I should just toss it away and start over?

I think you should sort it out.

Will do, just need to figure out. But will use your adivce, thanks for the help guys. Much appriciated

Don't change it too much it just needs adding to, I think LoneLictor is saying it sounded a bit wooden (stiff, hollow) and just needs a little fluffying out and less saying with more doing instead.

There are parts which could definitely be cut down on...

Well after having read it from end to end I agree. I will attemt outfluffing and other things. Will also put some more time into the general outline of the plot from here on. Not sure where to proceed with it to be honnest

As I see it the lictor is a scout for a hive fleet and the humans and eldar are going to kick but and unite grudgingly when the nids come. the eldar are guna use them as fodder while they take out the hive tyrant or something. but i could be wrong as the eldar need the humans to fight off chaos because_____?

It's definitely better now. The little details really help. The only suggestion I can offer now is touching up the transition from combat to noncombat. It seems like the charge ends too suddenly.

I would suggest that during the fight. You add in the occasional detail about the dwindling number of rebels. Or you can talk about how they were torn to shreds by the initial volley of grenades, the rebels' formation wasn't able to recover quickly enough.

Overall, nicely written and nicely down.

I said it before and il say it again, that was epic! and a nicely touched up chapter.

LoneLictor wrote:It's definitely better now. The little details really help. The only suggestion I can offer now is touching up the transition from combat to noncombat. It seems like the charge ends too suddenly.

I would suggest that during the fight. You add in the occasional detail about the dwindling number of rebels. Or you can talk about how they were torn to shreds by the initial volley of grenades, the rebels' formation wasn't able to recover quickly enough.

Overall, nicely written and nicely down.

Oh now why did I not think of that, thanks for the advice. Expect shredded rebels and other goodies next chapter then

Themanwiththeplan wrote:I said it before and il say it again, that was epic! and a nicely touched up chapter.

Yes glad you agree, Now I am spared having to come over and impale you on my mansword

Aww

Mansword?

I hope that doesn't mean what I think it means.

 LoneLictor wrote:
Mansword?

I hope that doesn't mean what I think it means.

Oh don't be jealous

 Trondheim wrote:

 LoneLictor wrote:
Mansword?

I hope that doesn't mean what I think it means.

Oh don't be jealous

This gif expresses my feelings towards your post well.

Well should have seen that one coming. On another and unrelated note, I expect to manage to have the next part out ina few days.

It's a joke LL, or at least I'm hopeing it was. Anyway I'd hate to make you both cry when you realise my sword is longer and broader than yours

Don't bring a dagger to a claymore fight ...

This tale comes across like one of those Marvel vs Capcom beat-em ups. No matter who your favourites are, you can guarantee they're going to be mixing it up with a variety of opponents.

This is always fun to read. Who's the next match-up?

To my faithful readers, more will be added to this particular new part in the days to come. Just not sure whom will be featured in said part. Until then this will have to do I suppose

Its wounds still ached and ichor dripped from them as the vengeful beast watched the green skins squabble amongst themselves. The largest of the pack was a massive brute armed with a crude but very deadly two handed chain axe. This one would be the first to die when the time came to strike, it felt hunger snarl and growl in its guts.
Yes soon the green things would be devoured for the greater mind, already it felt the approaching swarm. But all in due time, it needed to be careful, in its wounded state it could fall if the ambush was not executed carefully.
The large Ork snarled and shook its massive fist at a lesser one and seemed to be lost in the haze of blood and lust for war.
Strike, rend kill maim came the command from the ever present mind. Having received these new instructions the hunter rose from its resting place. It seemed reinvigorated and its wounds would have seemed to an observer to mend before ones eyes. Still with ichor dripping it flickered its razor sharp talons. Snarling it begun to move, yes soon feed would be gained and more knowledge gathered for the hive mind.

The first one to die never knew what struck it. Impaled upon two chitin covered talons it died as the lictor sunk its feeder tendrils into its skull, the beast had struggled but it was in vain against its killer who was many times stronger than itself. Tossing the dead Ork aside the beast activated its cloak and blended in with the shadows as it moved ever closer to the knob who stood by a roaring fire devouring a partially cooked human child. Its great maw crushed bone and chopped through meat as it washed down its gory meal with fungus beer.
The lictor was almost within striking distance when a Ork boy it had not noticed bumped into spilling its beer.
“OY wotzs this ere? Sumefing invinzibul?” the Ork said and much to its dismay realized it was one of those sneaky bugs.
Realizing its cover was broken the hunter let out a horrid roar and with one fell strike drove one of the talons right into the guts of the Ork disemboweling it, and spilling Ork fecal mater onto the ground. The nearby green skins howled as the beast dropped its camouflage and revealed itself in all its horrid glory. Coal black and red chitin illuminated by the light of the nearby camp fires.
“WAAAAAAGGGGHHHHH!” they roared in unison and came at it. Choppas and other crude weapons gleamed in the light of the camp fires. But had they known what some members of the Ordo Xeno of mankind knew they would have fled and attempted to put much distance between themselves and it. Mainly an infiltrator and assassin the beast was more than capable of ripping apart most foes when cornered or forced into a fight.

A deep rumbling sound emitted from it as the scything talons snapped into position while its powerful paws flexed showing the cords of muscle running beneath its carapace. The second to die was struck down by a powerful horizontal slash followed by a upward jab with one of its paws. The the stricken Ork died while still clutching its weapon in one hand. Then suddenly the main swarm of Orks hit it, fists and cleavers sought to lay the beast low but it ducked and weaved while striking like a angry serpent. The sounds of the struggle filtered out into the night as it raged on.
Accepting a crushing blow the beast fixed its eyes upon the new attacker, all around lay dead or dying Orks, some gutted while some had been torn in two by the talons it wielded as a pair of jagged swords.
The last Ork to stand on its feet was the towering Nob, clutching its growling two handed chain axe it bellowed a challenge and came on hard.

Chain axe growling and with a fierce snarl on its face the Nob took the first swing at its foe. The massive weapon barely missed the lictor who threw itself backwards to avoid the biting teeth.
As the Nob lashed out with one fist the hunter struck , a talon buried itself in the massive chest while the other talon buried itself in neck. With its lifeblood oozing out the Ork snarled and tried to bite its foe. But as it did the hunter flexed its feeder tendrils and with one swift move it burried those gore stained tentacels in the skull of the dying Ork.

Luvin it, the lictor is now my favourate character of your story.

If that's how good a lictor is, I can't wait to see the carnifexes arrive ...

Fun read, as always. It'd be nice to see some character development among the Orks, as they're always good value when written well.

Hahah nice though it seemed that the lictor killed alot of orks pretty easily. All in all I still think this is an awesome fight scene

Nicely done, Trondheim. Very well written.

Thank you all for the kind words.

@Willhman : Well Lictors are from what I have understood very, very capable fighters. Even if they are primarily infiltrators/ assassins.

A hail of shuriken shots ripped across the rebel line, shredding men and throwing up clouds of dust where the shots struck the sandbags or the ground. The initial barrage was followed by a series of sniper rounds that killed officers and made men scramble for cover. With their foes cowering behind their fortifications the soft humming of wave serpents could be heard of the dim of battle. Inside these sleek transports the dire avengers and banshees awaited their signal to strike.
She watched her brethren and sisters close in with the savage brutes, oh how she longed to join them in the slaughter that was to come. But alas being a farseerer meant she could not risk becoming wounded by their crude but non the less deadly weapons.

Instead she reached out and spoke to them “Make them pay for their foolish ways, let none live my fellow warriors!”
With those words spoken the wave serpent picked up speed and closed rapidly with the enemy lines, their shields taking the brunt of the increasingly amount of fire being poured upon them by the humans. The first to disembark was the dire avengers who hurled plasma grenades and let loose with their guns and thus providing cover for their sisters of the Banshee temple, leading these specters of death and revenge was the exarch Nimrosa.
Her wounds closed and her armor mended she once again was the first of her sisters into the fray.
She had opted to wield the weapon she was most skilled with for this battle, a long slender pole arm that crackled with energy as she pressed the activation rune.
Dodging a shotgun blast and sidestepping a knife she let her mournful song fill the air as she brought her weapon down in a overhead swipe. The blow caught one man square in the head and cleaved him in two showering her in gore and filth. Spinning her weapon in a figure of eight she pressed on hard and claimed yet more life’s as the reckless humans tried to strike her down.
As she paused for a second to gain her bearings she noticed something that made her blood turn cold. One of the men who lay dead at her feet had a tattoo that portrayed something she knew all too well.
“farseerer! I fear these swine’s are more than simple rebels. They bear the mark of the black legion upon their flesh.”

Just as she had spoken those words a deep rumbling sound seemed to fill the very air, and made the ground shake. Then as if conjured from a horrid nightmare a trio of enormous metal beasts came into view roaring and with great clouds of billowing smoke rising from their exhaust ports. Chaos had come and now all would perish by the tainted hands of its followers.
Sensing a feeling she had not known for many years creep into her spine she gripped her pole arm firmly and struck at the nearest foe while attention to contact her honored farseerer.
But she was already aware of this new and most unwelcome arrival. Reaching out she issued a command to all her still living warriors. “Break away! We can not hope to stem this tsunami of darkness.”
As she finished speaking the three land raiders begun to disembark their payload. Out of their dark holds came the towering forms of Black legion Terminators clad in aeon old war plate and imbued with the unholy blessings of the dark gods.
Their leader was a warrior who towered head and shoulders above his fellow brethren, his baleful eyes took in the carnage that unfolded before his eyes. The fodder slaves had been ripped apart and where on the verge of running away in fear, let them run he thought and gripped his power maul firmly.
“Advance! Kill anything that comes in your path. Let none live!” he called out over the crackling vox net.
Instead of replying his brothers began their advance as a wall of adamantium and wrath incarnated. The few mortals who still lived where cut down as the legionnaires ignored their please for mercy and aid.
The Eldar who now realized the peril they faced fell back while their ranger brethren and the still operational wave serpents poured fire upon the infernal warriors coming for their blood.

As exarch Nimerosa dodged a shot who zipped past her she knew that this turn of events was not a favorable one. The servants of the dark ones never made easy enemies and particularly those who served in the legion of the eye. Those brutes possessed a discipline seldom seen amongst the garbage who served their dark masters. And more worryingly was their unyielding will to see the plans set in motion by whomever lead them done.
Vaulting over the burning wreck of a truck she landed beside one of her sisters and together they where the last Eldar to abandon the gore stained battle ground where both their own kin and the slain humans lay as worm fodder.


Meanwhile all this unfolded someone else was also having a bad day. Sergeant Erik looked out across the ruined highway and swore under his breath, emperor knew he hated these rebels more and more with each passing day. Having broken the enemy strong points he and his men had been tasked with they had pressed on. But soon they had encountered such heavy resistance and in addition received attention from several large and rather hostile Ork mobs numbering in the hundreds they had been effectively forced to a standstill. In his mind this was one of those wars that would either see him dead in the ground or with a lot more grey hairs on his head.
But at least none of those damned Eldar had appeared out of no where to sow even more mayhem amongst the imperial lines of advance and supply.
Letting out a sigh of frustration he slammed a fresh magazine into his weapon and adjust his helmet he signaled the rest of his men to begin their slow crawl forwards across the high way.
Just as he and the lads had managed to cover some decent amount of ground his vox came to life.
“FALL BACK! FALL BACK! To anyone receiving this! This is Corporal Jameson of the Cadian 357th ! Traitor Astartes have lan” was all the corporal managed to say before a loud boom drowned out his voice and the link fell silent.
As if struck by a thunderbolt Erik stood there and felt the cold hand of dread grip his hearth. Was there no end to the horrors being tossed at them here on this bloody world? As if not your bog standard rebels, Orks, Eldar where enough they now had to contend with warp marinaded genetically enhanced demi gods too.

yes Yes YES!!!!! They are here. I liked the intro of the Black legion, They seem very viscious but I'd like to see more of them. It chilled my bones when you wrote """As she finished speaking the three land raiders begun to disembark their payload. Out of their dark holds came the towering forms of Black legion Terminators clad in aeon old war plate and imbued with the unholy blessings of the dark gods.
Their leader was a warrior who towered head and shoulders above his fellow brethren, his baleful eyes took in the carnage that unfolded before his eyes. The fodder slaves had been ripped apart and where on the verge of running away in fear, let them run he thought and gripped his power maul firmly.""" This literally was amazing. The gods smile on you today.

Well glad you approve then minion Yes I like the Black Legion. Inn my humble mind they get far to much flak, and beside everyone loves the badboys eh

Although the effed up the rebellion these guys are the stuff. I'm glad to see them.

Excellently done. I'm a big Black Legion fan too.

IMO, without them the Traitor Legions would've never accomplished much.

I love the Black Legion, but I find it hard to pick them over the World Eaters. You know why friend! I've put too much into their mindless tactics to leave them. Plus, I enjoying trolling people who like other Gods. Remember friend, He cares not from where it flows, he asks only that it does

Well I gate to rain on your parade...But dont expect those boys in black to get a warm reception in the upcoming part that I am working on. Lets just say that heresy never pays

Liking the newly added faction to the plot and nice work on the Eldar to.

Hmmmm... Doesnt seem to good for the guards men. Need more please hurry and put the next one on I cant wait.

I think your description of the Black Legion is genius - easily one of my favourite sayings of the year:

'warp marinaded genetically enhanced demi gods'

Deeply jealous of that one.

The mayhem's bubbling along nicely. I'd love to see the forces of the Archenemy against a full-on Nid assault.

In the vast and cold expanse of space debris and corpses exposed to the vacuum of space, the two fleets who had slugged it out both where almost done for now. But it was the Imperial navy who had with the width of a hair come out on top, but not that it marted. Soon the two unharmed escort vessels would be overwhelmed by the forces opposing them.
The senior captain aboard the largest vessel named the Our martyred Lady stood firm on his bridge and gazed out into the void. Let those dregs come close and we will take them all with us he thought. He was about to order a new attack vector to be set when one of the bridge crew called out.
“Captain! I am detecting several ships exciting the warp as we speak! Attempting to identify unknown vessels.”
as the man listened to the reply that was broadcasting from the ship who clearly was the flagship his face went pale.
“Well speak up man! Are they on our side or are they more of those traitorous dogs come to join the slaughter at hand?” the captain said while the gripped the pommel of his sword so hard his knuckles turned corpse white.
The young crewman gathered his nerves and spoke with a trembling voice.
“Its the Adeptus Mechanicus my lord. They come to cleanse this sector of the unbelievers who taints it. And the flagship is named Praenuntia mitti Irae.”

At this point the remaining chaos ships had also detected these newcomers to the fray, but with their numbers depleted and many ships having suffred substanstial damage after the cataclysmic battle with the Imperial navy they where sorely pressed to stand up aaginst the combined might of such a fleet that now at this very moment pressed on towards them.
Abord the raenuntia mitti Irae the one of the most hated and equally feared Magos to serve the red priesthood stood ready to unleash his fleets fury. His enormous and armored body occupied the center of the massive bridge, his mecandrites where at peace while his mind was aflame with countless considerations about tactics, suitable spots for his forces and how to best acvhive his goals. Many claim that those who serve the machine god are devoid of feelings. But anyone who spent any amount of time near this towering figure soon learned that it was quite the opposite. He was told in few words a world appart from his more conservative and narrowminded brothers. Over the years he had built alliances with several key factions within the imperium and such his somewhat unortodox aproach to all things technical was not looked upon with hostile eyes. That and the fact that he made sure all his allies got a healthy dose of rare and unice gifts at a regular pace also helped.
Magos Ustriel waved one mecandrite and the fleet was unleashed. Macro cannons lobbed their deadly munitoins while lances spat shining spears of energy. This flurry of destruction was followed by a hail of smaller munitions and return fire from the traitors.
“Kill them! Kill them all! Let none escape, I will have revenge on those who took the life of my boy!”
now to those not well educated in the background history of this nightmarish man who by many is considered noting more than a crazed predator, some further information will be reciquired before we continue our tale.

It all begun some ninety years ago when the then rather sane Ustriel had a vision bestowed upon by what he believed to be the Omnisha, he was told to make sure that the forge world of Hellheim would gain an ally in the Ragnarokian regiments, therefor the magos ordered that some of his own genes to be used to produce a child. The seeds of life was implanted in a woman of nobility in the system. As the years progressed the tech priests and magi of Hellheim keept a hidden but firm hand over the young boy who grew into a grim and coldblooded man as the years passed by. Marked by the loss of the woman he had loved and the loss of his whole regiment as a young junior officer set him upon the path to greatness and infamy. However not even the hidden hands of the Adeptus Mech can hold sway over the hearths of inbreed nobility and those who think them self fit to govern.
The young man was returned to his home system after the fateful battle who had taken the life of all those who he had come to count as friends and allies, once ome he was not received as a hero but as a traitor and a disgrace to the regiment. Even if he single handely secured the imperial victory upon that blood soaked world.
It was then that the Magos stepped out of the shadows, coming to Utgard aboard the largest battleship his beloved forge world had at its disposal he landed upon Utgard and delivered his barely hidden threat to those who thought themselves safe from harm and retribution. Now for anyone who have read any of the previous works by this author may have guessed the name of this man. If not it will be revealed now, it was Hendric S. Loki who died while leading his men against the foul forces of chaos.
Now we return to the tale at hand.

The first enemy ship to die was a old troop transport, its old and decayed hull provided no match for the brute force of the salvo that slammed into it. It broke apart and added even more debries to the fields of space ship reamins that drifted about. Several other small ships followed its example and died in flashes of light and seering heat.
But as the Adeptus Mech fleet closed in upon the ships that could put up a fight other beasts reared their ugly and very, very deadly heads.
They came out of the cover provided by the debris fields, massive lumbering ships marked with the eternal eye of Horus.
To anyone listening in upon their communication all they would have heard was the constant chanting that emitted from the very ships themselves. In deep warp spawned voices they howled their anger and lust for battle. Once in range the trio open fire upon the two smal Imperial Navy ships that had survived. The two ships never stood a chance as the full migth of three Black Legion battle ships slammed into them.
But the ships where under the command of a Astartes who could bend even the will of such foul things as these ships to obey him. He knew that to engage such a fllet as the one who at this very moment most likely where training their weapons upon his fleet was madness. Even for one who had been a part of the great crusade some ten thousand years ago. He had watched mankind rise and then crash back down into the black abyss that awaited them.
“Obey my will daemon filth! I rule these ships!” he snarled and as he spoke he summoned pale threads of baleful energy between his armored hands. Around him lay the ruined remains of the slaves he had ripped appart by hand and then sacrificed their still beating hearths to the hungry beast that dwelled in the core of the greatest ship.
Slowly the collective will of the great daemon faded away back into the furnace and allowed the ship crews to begin putting distance between themselves and the Adeptus Mech fleet, who drew nearer while they pelted the debrie fields with every weapon they possessed.
“Soon, soon Infernus, soon will you be allowed to feast.” the towering form spoke as he left the gloomy chamber.

Magos Ustriel watched the enemy slip out of his reach, his mecandrites snapped in anger, and his eyes flared with anger as he stood on the bridge. A tech adept addressed his lord with a bowed head.
“My lord, the Black Legion ships have engaged warp drive and seems to have jumped out the immediate vicinity. Should we pursuie?” the man asked.
“No, let those curs run. They will soon enough die, no one can hide from the wrath of the Adeptus Mech for all eternity. Begin maneuvering us into orbit and prepare to land our forces.”
To these order's the adept simply nodded and scurried out to relay the orders.
Deep within the bowls of the ship that sat in the hearth of the fleet several immensely large forms sat, motionless. Only within the largest of those something stirred, behind protective glass and guarded by countless Skiitari and a cadre of Praetorians.
The milky white liquids parted behind the glass screen and the pale face of a woman appeared, her eyes closed but her mind was already a bee hive of activity.
She heard him speak to her, the deep murky voice that had been her stalwart companion for centuries, he too had begun to awake but it would still take time before they both where fith for the figth.
“I hear you Kingslayer....I feel your will and sense your hate for the foe. Soon we will walk again” was the last the communicated before the deep sleep overtook her once again, and uneasy dreams of heresy and a darkening skies, from with the great devourer came was all she knew.

Luvin it still, liked the bit with the ship deamon and the the intro for the black legion commander, that man is boss.

Yeah, I like the ship daemon too.

Nice to see the Ad Mech taking an interest ... looking forward to seeing the God Engines kicking ass!

I liked the twist about Loki's heritage - it'll make the upcoming battle even more of a personal thing for the boys from Mars.

Well glad you all seem to be enjoying this. And yes, expect a serious case of destruction coming along shortly

The hunter was hurting, even with its victory over the Nob it was not recovered. And the voice seemed to have vanshied, no longer could it be heard whispering soothing words and offering guidance. Instead there was only the cold silence that surrounded the beast as it dragged itself forwards trailing blood. The blows it had received both from Ork and Eldar finally begun to take their toll. The crude weapons of the Orks had chrushed bone and pulped flesh. As it staggerd back to its lair it knew its life was spent. Perhaps in some other universe the beast would have wept and mourned this sad and unfitting end for such a proud servant of the hive, but here in this war torn universe where the only sound of laughter is the sounds thirsty gods make are heard. It died alone and forgotten by one and all. Its achievements and trials gone unremembered as the passing of the years rolled by. With one finaly flicker of its great talons the beast slumped down and did not rise again. Such did the tale of this particularity member of our tale end.
Now let us move on to one of the still living members of our tale.

The towering Terminator Champion looked at his brothers and shook his head, so the great tusks emitting from his once untainted helmet swayed back and forth. He hated to wait even if it was for the pitiful fodder to get their mortal hindquarters here. He recited the mantras of hate and bloodshed while gripping his power maul. He needed to kill soon unless he was to go mad he mused. Upon his armoured shoulders his trophy rack displayed helmets of loyalists and traitors alike. However there was one helmet he was somewhat fond of, it had belonged to a World Eater who once had slain his twin brother. After that day the once sane and always level headed Astartes has changed, and not for the good. Becoming obsessed with revenge and a goal to exterminate every one of those white clad drooling curs he had reaped his vengeance. He also had a helmet who belonged to a Relictor Captain, the loyalist had been allowed to live, his skill of arms was such that even this towering servant of the dark gods recognized a fellow warrior when he saw it. Instead he had taken his helmet and vowed to slain him the next time their paths crossed.
As for those who still served the fallen Emperor he cared not, they where set upon a path that would lead them to ruin soon enough. The war master would see this done. Many things could be said about the Legionnaire but his rock hard devotion to Lord Abandon and the cause of the Black Legion was the one thing no one who traveled with him dared speak ill about.
The apostle who had preformed the anointment of blood for the gathered brotherhood of Terminators ceased his chanting and extended a hand to the kneeling champion.
“Rise servant of Abandon and champion of the dark gods. This world awaits your wrath.”

To these words the gore hound did not reply, he only indicated for his comrades to make ready for battle. Outside the once proud and noble Courthouse had been gutted by fire and now it was covered in the markings of the black legion. Outside the lesser warriors milled about, standing guard and making ready for a new offensive.
Those of his legion clad in their regular power armour did well to stay clear of his path. His brutal discipline had seen many struck down for being found wanting in some way.
The one soul in this camp of madness who could walk in his path and not die was the leader of the deranged traitor tech priests who tended to their war plates and other needs. The man was allowed to do she because he was far too valuable to kill. Even if he obscured ones path.
“What a fine day for some wanton madness eh?” the mentioned man spoke and giggled as his mechandrites drifted about.
“Brother Anubis requires adjustments to his weapons priest. See to it or suffer my wrath” the champion said and paused in front of the tech knower.
Flexing one massive hand he continued
“And for further records....Keep those deranged hands of yours away from any of the legions mortal servants. I need not say what the price for disobeying me it priest!”



Sergeant Erik and his men had to struggle to not vomit up what remained of their lunch, around them lay the butchered remains of a large civilian convoy who had been given a sizeable guard detail to provide security. Women, children and young and old had been shredded by heavy calibre fire and other means. Of some five thousand civilians and eight hundred guardsmen they had only found five survivors. They where covered in gore and blood and when asked who did this had spoken about immensely large figures clad in suits of armor who had layed into them with hand held cannons and weapons who sparkled with energy, their would be killers had ripped the Guard force apart in minutes, wreaking their transports and the few tanks accompanying them.
With their guardians dead the civilians had been easy pickings, no one had been taken prisoner. All had died at the hands of these beast who seemed spawned from the deepest darkest corners of hell.

Cursing he turned away from the grim scene and lit a Ilho stick. This was indeed bad news, last thing they needed where more enemies to deal with, as if Orks and rebels had not been bad enough they now needed to deal with these now comers.
As he stood there and smoked and tried not to vomit due to the stench from the burning corpses his vox came to life.
“To all Imperial regiments! As of this moment we have reinforcements incoming! I say again reinforcements are coming in from of world! Emperor protects.” the familiar voice of the regimental commissar spoke before she cut the link.
He felt somewhat unsure about this, reinforcements was always nice but what and who where coming? He prayed that it was not some untested and newly raised regiment, because that could go sideways real fast. But he supposed he would find it out soon enough.
He whistled to get the attention of his nearby XO and told him to gathered the lads and get them moving, the young man who had until recently been a shivering mess of nerves had grown in the role and developed into a good if somewhat shy trooper. But he supposed that was okay, rather a shy and skilled trooper than a bellowing idiot of a incompetent one.
As the men of the Anaheim 227th light foot made their way out of the hostile lands they where in, and onto friendly held ground the talk amongst the soldiers was about who where coming. From the sound of things it was not some regiment from the arse end of the scale of quality, one trooper announced his belief that is was either Cadians or Mordians coming to have a go at the enemy. Another man said he expected them to be the death corps of Krieg or if they where all out of luck those homicidal Ragnarokians.
But in the end they where all wrong, as they reached home tuft and where greeted by friendly forces they learned what was descending from the skies to aid them.

“Commencing troop deployment my lord!” the adept announced over the intercom system as the massive ships begun to release a flood of transports.
Escorted by Thunderbolts the transports begun their landing procedures, heat shields flared and void shields flickered with energy is the ships bearing the Skiitari legions touched down upon the war torn world. These towering warrior servants of the machine god came to bring death those who had wronged their lord so long ago, clad in their rust red robes and marching forth under the swaying banner of Hellheim they resembled a army of warrior monks striding forth from their monasteries do battle with the hated foe.
At the front of these awe inspiring coloums walked a warrior who was the best amongst them. Tribune was the name most called him and he did not need to use his original name, fresh and healed from his brutal and cataclysmic fight with a Ork war boss some time ago he had been granted this position in recognition of his bravery and skill of arms. He cared not for politics or petty squabbling, all he lived and cared about was war and its brutal arts.

“Magos, we have made planet fall! Combat operations commencing in ten standard minutes. Will have city secured by ten standard hours at maximum! Tribune out!” he sent via the com unit built into his frame.
The assembled guard officers watched in awe as the roiling rust red tide surged out of the massive transports, they had not expected anything like this that was for sure. Some felt fear while others felt pride as the warriors of Adeptus Mech marched fourth, one thing was for sure. It seemed now that they had a chance in hell against all the things who wanted to snuff their life’s out.
As the landings progressed they became aware of a large group of Skiitari accompanying a towering figure who where approaching them. The storm troop security detail who followed the officers begun to form a protective wall in front of them but where told to stand down by their commander who had understood that to do such a thing was not the wisest thing to do when your new ally came to say hello. Instead semi loose circle was formed and the Adeptus Mech commander allowed to pass unchallenged.
The warrior ignored offered hands and greetings. He handed the colonel a series of encrypted disks and offered a stiff nod before taking his leave while his Skiitari kept their weaponry ready if need be.
“Bloody hell...He is almost as bad with people as you Evan” one of the gathered officers said and snickered. The greeting somewhat shot out of the sky the guard retreated from the landing sector to reform plans and incorporate their attacks with those of the Skiitari and Cataphractii formations of the Adeptus Mech.

Tribune activated his power fist while the bolter attached to his other hand spat death. The mass reactive rounds chewed up the wall and showered the rebels in dust and debris. Around him his kin did likewise, a storm of rounds where being tossed at the feeble foe who barely had the guts to take a few pot shots at them. Confident in their fire superiority they advanced forwards.
Shrugging of las rounds and the odd auto gun salvo they scaled the enemy fortifications and layed into the waiting horde.
He never ceased to fire as he brought his power fist down upon the skull of a rebel with enough force to crack the armour of a tank. The man imploded in a shower of fine red mist as his killer looked for a new victim.
“Secure perimeter and hold! Sow ruin amongst the foe of the Magos! Commence manoeuvre 123_00_XY” he ordered over the vox net to his underlings who with practice ease overran and butchered the foolish rebels. But they where also taking casualties he noted, several regiments had reported stiff and fierce resistance from the organic scum. In several cases the fighting was so hard it decimated the first units of Skiitari sent to deal with the particularity troublesome sectors. The battles only ended when heavy armor was brought up from the rear and pounded the enemy into submission but only after loosing some tn tanks in the process to well concealed AT positions and mines.
As he strode through the smoke and fire he became aware of something, he was treading upon earth marked with tracks that could only belong to one thing.....It was a type of once blessed machinery that had served the first legion. Until they had deviated from the path of faith and embraced the dark gods.
Suddenly and with the sound of a great beast springing an ambush the tank rolled into view, beside it and from behind came a wall of traitors clad in power armour, and wielding millennium old weapons.
The guns on the tank woke to life with a hiss spat red light that ripped a nearby Leman Russ into noting more than a burning wreck.
Now he knew what his real foes where he felt noting but a duty to cull them. And send their souls back to their dark master.

Wow... This is turning out to be pretty dang big. I wonder who is going to win this fight, cant wait need more!

willhman wrote:
Wow... This is turning out to be pretty dang big. I wonder who is going to win this fight, cant wait need more!

Personally, I'm rooting for the Black Legion.

Excellently written Trondheim, as per usual.

Nice to see the Tribune again and nice ending for the nid. Argreed with Lonelictor because this story is, epic!

Black Legion, Black Legion, Black Legion! (world eaters) (; Magnificent as always friend.

The few surviving guardsmen had taken refuge behind the wrecked remains of the last tank to go up in flames. The hammer like blow from the fallen Astartes had broken their lines, killed most of the command staff and routed the single company sent to reinforce them. Now all that awaited them was death as the enemy drew closer and closer with each bolt shot that pinged of their cover.
As he covered there the Cadian never imagined his death would be like this, he always imagined dying in some charge towards enemy lines or in close quarters with some unknown enemy. Not pinned down behind a gutted tank surrounded by men he did not knew or care to know.
But as he slammed the last mag into his hell gun, pinned the bolt on his pistol and made sure his combat blade was ready to be drawn a shadow fell upon all those who fought and died in the shadows of the burning spires.
The shadow blotted out the sun and the footfall of the thing that produced it shook the earth. Its steel grey form strode fourth like an avenging angel.

“Target acquired! Engaging traitor Astartes armor! Firing Melta cannons! She said and spat death at the foe who had seen her, the gaks slammed into the tanks and with the heat of a nuclear blast they where melted down to atoms alongside their traitorous crew and daemonic components. There would be no escape for them now she thought and smiled a predatory smile. Witch was transformed into a hungry howl that emitted from the sirens of the Kingslayer.
However as she did one of her crew detected something equally immense striding out of the burning hive.
“MY LADY! ENEMY TITAN PACK EMERGING FROM THE HIVE!” the man said made the sign of the cog, for even thought the Kingslayer was a Emperor class he was not immune to harm. The other crew begun a flurry of activities to bring the titan about to face this new and far more dire treat.
“DIE!” was all she said as the Kingslayer turned to face its fallen kin! Now the world would shake as the true gods of war began their duels.
“ALL POWER TO SHIELDS AND MAIN WEAPONS! ERRRRGGG” she snarled as a volley of badly aimed shots shot past them transformed a section of the city behind them into a mushroom cloud of radiation and heat.
“All power redirected Princep! I have a lock on a enemy scout. Presenting target solution now!” her newest crew said and transferred the mentioned solution.
“Thank you Ava!” she said before becoming lost in the heat of battle once more.
The enemy titans howled in anger and sheer madness at their towering foe who shrugged of the few gaks who landed upon its rippling void shields. Their anger became even greater when their scout died when the full force of two long salvoes of Melta Cannon shots slammed into its corrupted frame and reduced into noting more than slag and smouldering metal components.

However the enemy did not loose hearth nor the will to fight. They outnumbered the towering Kingslayer many times over, and its fellow loyalist titans was not to be seen anywhere. And beside, they had the unnumbered waves of fodder to expend upon it. Whilst it had not such luxuries.
Howling like a pack of Ragnarokian death hounds they begun to pour fire towards it while stomping forwards with murder in mind.
To this the Kingslayer responded with a deep rumbling growl that seemed to stem from its very core, the Princep and Titan joined as one in their common hate of those who dared betray the Machine god.
“Firing Turbo laser!” she bayed and moan in pain as a shot connected with the shoulder of the Kingslayer, they needed their own kin to be here soon. But until then no one would come beyond this line in the sand she swore and gritted her teeth. Come on old man, show them your anger, your rage and fiery zeal! She said to the machine who seemed to listen. His shields rippled strong as ever when enemy fire slammed into them, and his weapons answered in kind.
“Salvo went of target! Attempting re-targeting!” one crew member said and worked feverishly to regain the aim.

But as they a massive salvo of enemy shots slammed into the void shields and was barely contained by secondary shields and frontal armour. The great warrior responded by sending a greeting from all its weapons back in the general direction, an succeeded in atomizing most of the southern part of the suburbs of the immense hive city. In addition a enemy Warlord Titan limped badly after that salvo.
“We hurt Andros! We need the Hastasi and Angelus to walk beside us!” she sobbed in horrid pain as thick black smoke rolled up from one of the consoles near her tank. Seeing their Princep in such agony was more than the crew could take.
With a series of wide spread salvos meant as a farewell greeting for the Kingslayer begun to fall back. It felt so wrong for the proud machine to do so, but it too knew the cold hard facts when it saw it. Even if the lust for battle burnt in its core and flooded its veins.

The two other Titans of the pack was coming, but had been severely hindered by a massed assault by rebel armour back up by Black Legion forces. Only with the iron hard determination of Skiitari and the Cadian armour brigade offering support had the offensive been halted but at immensely high numbers of lost men and tanks for the Imperial side, and worse was the fact that the enemy had managed to withdraw in good order.
Princep Astor of the Angelus fumed as his Titan made good speed forwards at least. Those foul heretics dared to assault him! To try and kill him here on this dust and heresy infested plain. Such an affront to man and to Mars would not go unpunished. He felt his companion soul howl in barely contained rage as it spat death at the fleeing rebels. The plasma shots smelted tanks and ground alike but the real task was to reinforce his lady and the towering Kingslayer.
He had not forgotten how she had abandoned everything to save him last time they went to war.
Oh what a sight it had been, to see the Kingslayer thunder down those ruined hills and lay into the Green skins like a raging beast defending her pup from a enemy intent on doing it harm. To stand in the shadow of such a mighty Princep and Legio commander was truly awe inspiring.
“Aiming vulcan bolter!” the Princep said as pain bit his mind, the weapon hissed to life and sent a shower of metal at the enemy. The rounds who was the size of a man pummeled the formation of enemy tanks who where engaging a forward platoon of Cadian troops. The shots smashed armor and kicked up great plumes of dirt where they missed their targets.

The mighty Angelus and its twin Hastasi rowed forth lending support to each other and the legions of Skiitari who followed in their wake. But the two veteran Princep knew their foe merely regrouping and reforming their forces. With the vast rebel armies swollen by of world reinforcements and on world troops outnumbered the Imperial forces some ten to one, and adding to this was the large and very well lead Black Legion war band too. Who in the first few engagements between them and Guard had ripped apart most attacks aimed at them.
However as the Titans walked on the fields of war fresh reinforcements for the Imperials where landing but it would still be a gruesome war to come.
Aboard the Hastasi Princep Sabrina felt the god step forwards like a knight of old. Clad in armour and armed with biting steel she would be the harbinger of death the enemy saw before they perished.
“Where ….is...the...Kingslayer.” she said and labored to speak somewhat fluently, she did not master the use of her normal means of speaking that well any more.

Before anyone could speak she sensed it, coming out of the pitch black smoke looming over the smoking hive city the immense figure strode fourth with enemy fire chased it.
The great machine was clearly in a dire situation, never had see seen the slayer of kings pull back willingly.
The eerie voice of its Princep filled the vox receivers on the two lesser Titans.
“TRAITOR KIN! THE MAD WALKS!” she howled as she unleashed a full broadside of its massive guns towards a unseen target of in the distance.

“To me children! TO ME! Let us hunt the fallen who once was our own beloved kin!” Princep Valeria called while she sent a message to her Moderati to vent more heat from the main core, who burnt with the energy of a sun in the hearth of its great body.

Wow, that was awesome.

Nice to see the big 'uns back in the fray. Nicely-described large scale mayhem, Trondheim!

More titans, please ..

Discontinued due to illness

That's a shame, its a nice story.

I hope you get well soon, Trondheim.

 LoneLictor wrote:
That's a shame, its a nice story.

I hope you get well soon, Trondheim.

Thanks but I will not recover for quite some time

If I may ask, what's wrong?

Oh fug, just when it was getting real good. Hope you get back on your feet a.s.a.p.

I'm sorry for your predicament Trondheim. I hope you get well as soon as possible, you are honest to the Emperor himself the finest author of action-fluff here. At least in my opinion.

Thank you for the support, and thank you Beaviz81, nice to hear I have achieved fame and glory

No saga for you till your dead, and you aint got permission to quit yet

Nooooooooooo

Trondheim I hope everything goes good for you bro.

Sorry for the sadness the discontinuiong seems to have caused, and thank you Willhman

It was a real pro story , but if your hearts not in it I understand. Maybe in the future when your up to it you can get back on the horse with a new story or continue with this one.

It has notting to do with my hearth not being in it, this decision was due to the illness that has struck me down. I have more than enough with getting trough the day, but when I get better who knows what may happen

YYYYYYYYYYYAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYY! the thread is not dead, long live the thread.

The rain had once more made the decision to soak the battlefield below, but the rain did not phase the advancing Skiitari regiments as they pushed forward with iron hard determination. At the head of the advance Tribune walked like a incarnation of wrath, his weapons had made the enemy pay dearly for their foul betrayal. But still the hunger for war burnt fiercely in his hearth, his orders was clear. Leave none alive who had strayed from the path of light and into the darkness that lay beyond.
So far they had only encountered cultists and traitor guard, but the resistance had been very, very hard. And every inch of ground was payed for with blood, the enemy seemed more than willingly to stay and fight. He ejected the last of the spent shells from his wrist mounted bolter and rammed a fresh belt in, while doing so his power fist was deactivated. He never wasted energy when it could be avoided. As his mind processed orders and new information a shot kicked up dirt in front of him.
His powerful optics located the shooter before a second had passed, and he snapped of a quick series of hell fire shots. The shots punched trough the steel plate the shooter had been hiding behind and vaporized him.
But the man had not been alone, rushing out from concealed positions poured a veritable horde of cult members armed with all sorts of weapons. Soon a hailstorm of shots filled the air and the steady thump of mortars broke up the symphony of death, the rebels where heavily armed and had a iron hard determination to win and see these imperial scum sacrificed to their dark lord.

But they had failed to take one thing into their plan, and that was the cold and savage fury a Tribune and his Praetorians brought to a battle.
“1th cohort engage primary bulwark, 2th cohort assault the left flank. “ the towering warrior commuted to his brothers, who went about their task with inhumane precision. Flamers and plasma guns hissed and spat death while heavy bolters and las weapons joined in. under this tremendous amount of fire power they advanced like a rust red tide of horror.
Tribune did not care to aim, instead he let the blessed bolter spit shells in a seemingly unending volley, his power fist sparkled to life and hissed when he slammed into the chest of rebel officer who was reduced to a red pulp by the blow. Around him the battle raged, even if their foe was inferior in both body and cause they still fought like devils. A steady rate of casualties filtered past on his HUD display, it seemed this was a insane lot of traitors. He hosed down a heavy weapon crew with air burst shells that ripped into the men, and cut them apart in a storm of shrapnel and heat.
Blocking a bone jarring blow from a traitor Ogryn and avoiding another blow from is companion he activated his energy shield and directed more power to his power fist.
Aiming the blow just above its sternum he struck with enough force to wreck a tank. The mutant keeled over and wailed in pain before a shot from his bolter put a stop to its heresy. Then its kin was next, no close quarter death for this brute. Instead it was ripped apart by the last shots he had in his munition belt.
“Tribune! Enemy bulwark still offering hard resistance. Additional units will be required to crack it. “ came the message from his second in command. Skimming trough the data feed he agreed and redirected a Skiitari regiment and a armour detachment to help speed the battle up.

Just as he did he felt a familiar rumble in the ground, looking up he saw a sight that filled his frame with reverence and a feeling of pride. Walking like a testament to the might of Mars and man came the Kingslayer and its companions, the slayer looked fierce in the rain as its banners blew and its sirens announced its coming for all to hear. Having withdrawn and regrouped and rearmed they now came to resume the hunt of their fallen kin.


She felt alive in a way she had not done for many, many centuries. The core sang to her in a different tone and the steel covered body was as if energized by some unseen source, one thing was clear to her. It was not only she who pined for the death of their traitor kin. The Kingslayer too longed for their deaths and to hear their death cries as his weapons layed them low.
His massive feet shook the ground with each footfall, and the weapons blazed as they reaped a bloody toll from the enemy.
Beside them the Hastasi and Angelus walked in the shadow of their lady. But they too was invigorated and ready once more for the battle that awaited them. They were of a lesser scale but they still looked like walking avatars of death, and with their new banners and adornments they looked just as bloodthirsty as the Kingslayer did.
The first foes they encountered was a trio of enemy Titans, these foul mockeries to the Omnisha looked to bar their way.

Princep Valeria looked with the eyes of the Kingslayer upon the trio that barred path they needed to take. Covered in foul runes and hideous mutations they made her head hurt by simply looking at them, she felt the core howl in anger at this horrid spectacle.
The traitors struck first, a volley of shots that would have leveled the surrounding city scape if it had not already been bombed into oblivion slammed into the rain soaked ground near them. The energy from the detonations shook the loyalist Titans and huge mushroom shaped clouds rose up after the blast wave settled down.
This was followed by long shining spears of laser fire that made the shields of the Angelus and Kingslayer shiver under the stress put upon them, inside the Angelus a series of consoles exploded and killed the tech adepts manning them.
“Firing solution prepared!” Andros said and relayed the data to Princep Valeria.
The Kingslayer turned its massive bulk and leveled its weapons and unleashed its repossess. It came as a choir of thunder as its main weapons fired at maximum power, the ordnance raced out and slammed into a small traitor scout who simply vanished under the sheer weight of fire being unleashed upon it.
It detonated in a ball of flame and plasma fuelled heat, its death cry rang out and was heard for many miles.
But its companions was not so easily vanquished, each and one more than a match for the Angelus and Hastasi who both had their tasks set in stone. They where to shield and defend the flanks of the Kingslayer as it dealt with the enemy pack leader.

“ENEMIES! WE NEED ENEMIES!” she called in a voice filled with pain and hate. Her face noting more than a mask of sheer suffering as she dealt with the foe and the volatile spirit of the machine. Visions of battles long won flashed by her weeping eyes.
As the moderati crew provided what she asked for she felt a surge of heat trough her body.
“ENGAGING ENEMY TITAN!” she called as the weapons at her disposal thundered once more. Her new foe was a god engine that could rival the one she piloted, its aeon old form covered in the dark runes of Chaos and with gruesome mutations displayed where its head should have been.
Its name was lost to all except the thing that had replaced its Princep and crew long ago when it turned its back on mankind. It had for ten thousand years opposed the loyalist dogs and now it would claim a new victim for its dark lords.
As the two behemoths of steel clashed the very ground seemed to groan in pain, weapon fire ruined immense amounts of land and the land died where the foul traitor walked and spread its taint.
A hit to her shields made Valeria cry out absolute pain, the sensation was horrid. Her whole body seemed to cry out in agony, and the Kingslayer too howled in pain. But she did not let this cripple her. She returned the favour in kind and the next to howl was the enemy. Its body wept molten steel where a round has nicked its shoulder, and its shields flicker with a sickly green tint as they struggled to recharge.
With a great amount of effort she summoned all her will and guided the Kingslayer closer to their foe, muttering a silent payer her crew carried out their orders. As they drew closer to their hated foe they could now see with their own eyes the horrors of the warp visited upon the once loyal titan.
“Omnisha keep us safe” one man muttered and made the sign of the cog.
“ARM PLASMA ANIHALTOR! PREPARE TO FIRE ON MY MARK!” she said and grinned a evil smile.
“ANGELUS AND HASTSI WILL WITHDRAW!” continued as the preparations was begun.
In the meantime she continued her deadly ballet with the enemy, weapons and shields sparkling fiercely in the rain that hammered the battleground around them.
She felt the steady build up of heat in the weapon, she looked with the eyes of her companion and saw her foe in all its horrid splendour. But just as she was about to fire a gruesome death cry filled her mind.

The Angelus who had been on the receiving end of several salvoes was relived to get the order to pull back, but it came to late. Limping badly and with several key systems out of action it made a easy prey for the enemy pack leader. The last moments of its long and glorious service came when it turned to face an enemy armour company. Distracted from the far more dire threat posed by the enemy Titan it never saw the shot that ended its life. The searing heat from the plasma ordnance broke down its last shield and melted its proud head, and reduced its chest to slag. It managed to howl one last time in pain before it fell silent. Its form came thundering down to the ground and a great cloud of black smoke rose from it.
Silence filled the Adeptus Mech and Imperial guard vox frequencies when the god engine died.
That only lasted for a short time however, soon the net was aflame with howls of rage and outcry.
But these trivial things came to an end when the crazed howl of the Princep of the Kingslayer filled the air and made the ground tremble.

This was a great new post,kingslayer, you are bad ass. nice to see you return to your excelent ways.

I liked the contrast between the infantry battle and the God Engines stalking above them . Kill those heretic Titans!

Nicely written. I especially liked this line: "Flamers and plasma guns hissed and spat death while heavy bolters and las weapons joined in. under this tremendous amount of fire power they advanced like a rust red tide of horror."