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Ace sighed as he looked out from Iron Skull’s battlements. It had been a few hours since he and Hannibal had gotten back to the fortress, and the boys were busy chattering about their future mission to round up the last of Nodrod’s spider riders. Spears and shields clattered together as the boys’ excitement grew. Ace sighed. He did not share in the excitement of his green-skinned kin. He was regaled to keeping watch over the fortress, an assignment fraught with boredom. Hannibal had assured him that he was because there needed to be someone he trusted in charge, especially if Skull Eater decided to attack then. Still, that did not lessen the sting of being the one left behind. So, sighing again, Ace rested his elbows on the battlements and gazed at the jungle.

The jungle moved.

At first it was a single tree, whipping from side to side. Then another followed. Then another, and again another until it seemed half of the forest was in a frenzied state. Ace’s eyes widened, and he barked a laugh before rushing down into the fortress.

“Skull Eata’s commin’ boss! His army’s headed ‘dis way!”

The camp fell silent as hundreds of greenskin eyes looked to Hannibal.

“Excellent.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Skull Eater’s truck slowly drove through the jungle as the sound of Hannibal’s traps exploding caused a constant rhythm to his army’s march. He, and many of his higher ranking mobs, were fortunate enough to have the killa kans march in front of them, taking the brunt of the wrath of the traps and angered trees in stride. Those lower on the totem pole were not afforded such luxurious positions, and had to run as fast as possible at the first sign of a sprung trap. The trees claimed many greenskins, but they feared the ill tempered Skull Eater more, and marched on.

Skull Eater glared at his surroundings the whole time. He had tasted bitter defeat at the hands of Hannibal, forced to flee from his own fortress, and then was humiliated again at the hands of the knife-ears. He needed a victory, not just for the morale of his men, but for his own morale as well. His power claw flexed with every passing wish to get his hands around Hannibal’s throat. Skull Eater fortress would be his again.

A shower of shrapnel awoke Skull Eater from his wishful imaginings, as he witnessed a nearby killa kan step on a rocket mine that blasted its foot right off.

“Oh zog it all!” Came the voice of his driver, swerving to avoid the flying foot, and slowing to a stop to survey the damage.

It only took a few moments of inspection for a clear verdict. “Sorry boss. He ain’t gettin’ up anytime soon. We could patch ‘em up if ya’ wanna’ stop fer a litt-“

The mek’s voice was abruptly cut short as Skull Eater plunged his claw deep into the kan’s hull, ripped out the still squirming grot pilot, and tossed the tiny body into a nearby thrashing tree.

“We don’ stop.”

With that, Skull Eater climbed back into his truck, and barked orders to march forwards.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

As Skull Eater’s army cleared the jungle, they came upon the sight of what was once Skull Eater fortress. The fortifications had been transformed, from impressive to awe inspiring. Lines of machine guns, and rocket launchers stood atop tall towers and sturdy walls of armored iron that gleamed in the sunlight.
There was little time to waste, and Skull Eater bellowed a mighty “Waaagh!” as he and his forces charged the fortress with all the speed they could muster, desperate to reach the walls before they were blasted by the fortress’ firepower.

Their footfalls thundered across the field.

No shots responded.

What began as a furious charge became a confused stroll, as Skull Eater’s army walked into an empty fortress by an open front gate.

“Boss, I don’ get it…” Said Skull Eater’s driver, looking around at the empty courtyard “Ya’ fink he legged it when he saw us commin’?”

“Yeah… But ‘den why’d he build it up?” Skull Eater’s eyes narrowed as he looked around. Something about his surroundings was different, something that he could not quite put his finger on.

As the last of his army filed into the fortress, one of the Nobs came up to skull eater. “Hey boss, some of tha’ boyz was ‘finkin a’ goin’ ta’ get some of tha’ grog, if ‘dey left any of it. What’cha ‘fink abou-“

His words were cut short as the main gate snapped shut with a great force. Boys rushed to the gate, and attempted to pry it open, but it refused to move. The boys’ ears perked, and their heads rose upwards as they heard a familiar and haunting sound.

The chorus of machine guns locking their bullets into place.

Skull Eater’s army watched in confused curiosity as the machine guns slowly turned around, and pointed at the mob.

Silence.

Then the bullets flew.

Chaos erupted as the horde ran back and forward, not certain of what action to take as the rain of bullets poured into their ranks, ripping apart the greenskins, and ricocheting off the armored walkers. The once secure fortress walls now formed a pit of death, and the boys climbed over themselves as they tried to reach the guns. A few groups were successful, and managed to climb up to the walls and smash some of the guns before they were riddled with bullets. But the tower guns remained unscathed.

The Iron Horde arose.

Seemingly pouring out of the woodwork, armor-clad boy after armor-clad boy raced towards Skull Eater’s army out from secret rooms and basements hidden in every conceivable place in the fortress. Shield and spear fell against pistol and axe, as the sides exchanged blows. Skull Eater was surrounded, but his kans made the Iron Horde pay dearly for their trickery.

Over the battle racket, Skull Eater bellowed an order to his personal mek. “Give tha’ orda’! Call in tha’ reinforcements!”

Honours earned part two.

“ this is Floki, contact, section 6 “ the mighty thunderwolf growled and snarled into the darkness “kill” floki commanded in his native tongue and the stark harsh light of the twin claws blades lit up the decrepit and damp tunnel, reptilian limbs and carapace fragments flew as the space wolf engaged in a savage battle, a space wolf can see in near pitch black like daylight and soon the battle was over stood alone alongside the nightly wolf and examined a limb, scaly, hard carpace and thick natural bone, little weakness in the reptilian beasts.

Contacts were made all over the site as Lord Storm claw slashed one in twain with the mighty relic wolf claw, “weak alone, but on mass. Bjorn fall back and detonate the roof to slow the damned things down. Hundreds slain, how many thousand remained was unknown as a large section of cleaning crushed dozens swarming after byorn as the waves of heat from the melta bomb caused Ulfrics skin to blister slightly from the confined detonation.

Backing up a hill as they fought using the wolves they were mounted on to keep ahead of the board and lure them to the right spot, the ruined lighthouse, looking out over the mass from the wall. “Look, we are surrounded, now they cannot escape us” laughing as Lord Storm claw decapitated one of the fastest of the reptilian horde, “let them come, let them come! “ roared Lord Storm claw as he prepared to face the wave main body.

The ground shook and everything stopped for a second as a gargantuan squisauth lumbered out the jungle, feral and massive it had been called by the noise and battered aside thick trees and stonework like nothing at all. Soon a chaotic there way fight began as each sought to slay the other two parties. Dodging the giant's foot Conan messages “plan firestorm, bring in the knight”

The battlefield broke into many smaller battles as space wolves dueled the reptilian horde, and both tried to avoid the massive swuigauths rampaging blows crushing those too slow almost beyond recognition. Moria valorn sounded the knights mighty warhorns and charged over the rough ground spanning the cracks, risires and fallen trunks with a well practice ease and began to let loose her avenger gatling cannon sending hundreds of rounds a minute into the emperor's foes. “Lord storm claw, stay left, the right is where I can best tackle the orkoid”

Knight and beast fought on heroically and her sword flashing as the massive powered blade cut deep into the skin and inflicted a savage and deep wound though it was not one sided as roaring in pain it slammed her upper hull and destroyed the heavy stubber, servitor gunner and left a large tusk embedded in the knights body work forcing a sizeable chunk of armour to bend inwards.

Soon the deep wound inflicted began to pay off and it's movement became more sluggish, strength weaken as it lost vital life blood from the gash running deep down its side. Soon she saw her chance and delivered a death blow upon the feral giants heart and smiting it crashing down to the floor as it eyes finally closed for the last time.

Back to base.

“Moria valorn, Lord Ulfric Storm claw requests you attend him at the hall. “ the simple robed and fur clad setf left a note and backed off leaving her to work out what would be going on as she checked her report, her warsuit needed minor repairs and several messages from home had to be handled and replied too later.

The Hall was on a lower floor of the tower, a large solid building that housed commands, officers, senior serfs and many other support staff and troops who called the old ferocerete building home, well not quite the banners and furs quickly reminded her who had first set up home here.

“Moria Valorn High Queen and slayer of the great beast welcome, your service has been noted” the wolf lord was standing and bore a sword, well to human in the space wolf's grip it looked like a dagger at best. “I only did my duty Lord Storm claw, we made a oath and we do not intend to break it” Holding her ground as Amanda had found was the way to react, respectful but confident. “Ha, now we agree on that, and my oath to back your house. Let this symbolise it, a sword I found in the ruins, blade made of adamantium and a handle now bound in the skin of that squigauth near your most mortal blow, balanced perfectly and sharp as the day made despite being down in the damp for maybe centuries or longer. “ reversing the grip expertly and handing her the blade she reached out to take the sword, light, but In the light she now saw a group of ferrasian runes etched into the blade and small oath of loyalty picked out in gold along its scabbard.

The damage was easily being repaired and and yet was not the same suit that she had left with as now she looked up to its shoulder high above to its right. In gold a snarling form of a wolf stood out from the ground and runic patterns in silver decorated her left leg plate telling of her saga and placed with room to expand as the wolves expected this alliance to last. She was beginning to feel as she had earned her title and becoming a skilled war leader as the high queen should be, proving her skills where more than just in the text books and was capable of living up to her family's history, honour and reputation.

------ Skies above Crion, 3 hours away from the New Pavus target -----

Riley finally received the images from his teams in the city. The building they were going to assault was a simply warehouse, with only two access. This would make breaching the doors too troublesome for that strategy to be worth, no, they'd create their own way in. The two doors would work agaisnt the heretics, however, as Riley only had two sniper teams under his command, and he gave them orders to deploy right away. The team tailoring the Tillers already had confirmed that the building had a basement, it was likely that Garvel would be held there, meaning that reaching him would be tedious, but Riley had confidence in his man ability to take advantage of the situation created by the attack. Riley shook his head and went back to planning the attack. Riley noticed the poor state of the roof and formulated a plan based on this weakness. The Valkyries would form a line and collapse the roof using rockets and heavy bolter shots, with the obstacle removed, the first section would jump inside the building, and secure the area for the second section to drop in and help clear out the warehouse. The plan was dangerous and brutal, the kind of plan the men Riley brought would absolutely love to pull out. Riley sent the images to the pilot.

'' What's that sir? ''

'' Your target, collapse the roof, your bird is last, keep the ramp opened during the air strike, I am not going to tell you how to use your munition the best or which angle to attack from, I'll leave that to you, as long as we have access and we can jump freely, you do your thing ''

'' Works for me, sir ''

Riley turned towards his vox operator.

'' Patch me through with everyone, I'll brief you all right now ''

The other Scion nodded and opened a general channel.

'' You're through, sir ''

'' Alright men, this will be a simple mission, we're going through the roof, '' ride the fireball '' as some of you have be known to call it, my section on the first run, second drops on the other pass, once everyone is in, we clear our the building, locate the access to the basement as fast as possible, except for the major, I want no survivors ''

Everyone acknowledged and the rest of the flight happened with very little of note.


------ 3 hours later -----

As soon as it was obvious that the Valkyries were headed towards this warehouse, the Tillers inside tried to mount up a response, and a few men stormed out with anti aircraft weapons, ready to take out the gunships. The quality of their weapon didn't go unnoticed by the men observing the doors neither did it prevented them from pulling the trigger, showering the men carrying extra ammunition in gore. On the northern door, one brave Tiller picked up the launcher and set his sights to the skies. The sniper smiled and fired at where the rocket was houe in the launcher, the explosion triggering the explosion of the spare rockets, destroying the door, the Tillers and the the anti air weaponry.

While this was taking place, the Valkyries came within range of their target and rockets started to rain on the old roof, demolishing it with little time wasted. The last wooshed over the building, disgorging elite soldiers into the warehouse. The Scions landed in middle of a carnage, some Tillers were spread in pieces all the room, rockets had gone through the roof and left large craters on the floor, it was the kind of mess the stormtroopers excelled at fighting in. When Riley landed, the few Tillers that survived the strike struggled too stand up, two of them had already been executed where they stood. Riley took aim as one of them went for his weapon, the lasbolt went through the traitor neck and left and scorch mark on the wall behind. The rest of his section proceed with the killing of the last survivors, and the room was secured before the Valkyries began their next pass.

The second section landed a few seconds after all that and together the Scions began to secure the rooms surrounding the one they were in.

'' Sir, there's a bunch of unarmed pricks in that room '' one of the Scion had gone ahead and checked a room

'' No survivors, torch e'm ''

Four stormtroopers moved to the door, two of them armed with flamers. The two others opened the door just enough for the muzzles of the flamers to go through. They pressed the trigger for two seconds, filling up the room with promethium. The door was then slammed shut and held close by the two other Scions, until the banging stopped.

'' Room secured, sir! ''

There was a few other rooms, but they were all either empty or had been cleared by the rockets. The Scions looked for a way down, where the Tillers would've been protected from the airstrike.

'' Door's here... BREACHER UP! '' shouted a stormtrooper. The designated breacher came up, krak charges in hand. He set down his bombs on the hinges and ordered everyone back. Riley stood at the end of the group, his auxiliary grenade launcher loaded up with a stun grenade. The breacher shouted, and the door exploded, it was quickly followed up by the grenade, and the Scions stormed the basement. The first operator entering the room was welcomed by a burst of autogun, he fell forward, allowing the second man to answer back with a burst of hotshot lasers, nearly decapitating the Tilller and setting his clothes on fire. The rest of the traitors were still reeling from the assault and they were cut down with little resistance.

'' Room clear, two door and a hatch ''

'' Clear the rooms and drop a few grenades in the hatch ''

The Scion that got shot stood up and shook himself.

'' Y'alright buddy '' asked another masked figure

'' I'll live, bullets never made it past the outter shell of the carapace, they'll need more than a couple of badly aimed shots to down one of us ''

The other men cleared the rooms around this one. The first one was empty, and already fairly damaged, it seemed the Tillers had taken the time to destroy as much intel as possible. The other room had an uncouscious Tiller and Garvel. As the Scion that came in first aimed his hellgun at the traitor, Garvel had to suppress the idea of moving the barrel away from its target, the Tiller was shot where stood. This was followed by the explosion of the grenades.

'' Sir! '' said Garvel as he saw Riley enter the room.

'' Ah... Garvel, everything alright? We were worried 'bout you ''

'' You should know better, sir ''

Another stormtrooper entered the room .

'' Sir the hatch leads to the sewer, its a mes down there and there's no way we can track whoever used it ''

'' The major... noone reported killing him, right? ''

'' No sir, I guess we all know where he went ''

Riley nodded and ordered a last sweep of the building, making sure there were no survivors or anything they could use to further their mission. With that done, he ordered everyone in the Valkyries, they would all go and pick up Mallia team, who had secured the corpse of their comrade.

Faolan heard the commotion outside, they had returned from their hunt. No doubt Cearul would come to his quarters to report in, which Faolan was eager to receive. In order to not appear too eager Faolan grabbed a nearby dataslate and sat down behind his desk which was made of oak and had an iron trim along with a pack of snarling hounds defending their humanoid master carved into the front of it. It was bigger than a normal desk to accommodate the user, it was almost a relic of the chapter. This relic, this masterpiece was now littered with reports and maps so much so that throughout entire top of the desk not one patch of oak could be seen. As Faolan pretended to look at it a name caught his eye, Rhodri. The dataslate that Faolan had picked up was a report of their efforts at Site Henry, skim reading his eye caught a few words, Rhodri, Cadfael, power failure, puppy. Faolan’s doors slid open to reveal a grim faced Cearul, Faolan put the dataslate down making a mental note to read the report properly later and focused on Cearul.

“ Why the grim face brother ? Was your hunt successful ?”

“ It was”

“ So I ask again why the long face ?”

Cearul sighed “ We lured the foolish orks into our trap and slaughtered them like I thought we would their blood saturated the sands.”

Faolan interrupted, impatience being one of his many flaws “ Yes, still waiting for the doom and gloom”

“ Gorehound Da Cook emerged with a Squiggoth from a canyon in which we used to funnel the orks in, Scout Sergeant Turlach took it upon himself to lure the beast back into the canyon and made me fire at the canyon, collapsing it on top of him and the Squiggoth”.

Memories of Faolan fighting alongside Turlach in dozens of campaigns flooded through Faolan’s mind before he regained his senses. Faolan could see that the recent memory was still disturbing Cearul, getting up from his chair Faolan wrapped his arm around Cearul’s shoulders and went outside.

“Listen lad Turlach knew what he was doing, that Squiggoth would have done a lot of damage, he saved a lot of lives. He also meant for this to be a lesson.”

Cearul stopped walking and tilted his head “ A lesson ? What lesson ?” anger rising in his tone.

“ The lesson of dealing with losses as a commander, something all commanders go through. Each of us attempts to deal with it in our own way some take to drink, others distance themselves from their troops and the worst commanders don’t deal with it at all and lose it one day” Faolan stopped remembering a particular PDF commander that soiled himself before his death. “I cannot help you here Cearul, you must find how to cope with loss by yourself”. Cearul nodded in acknowledgement. “Now get Cadfael over here to refurbish the second barracks” Cearul’s evening seemed to be full of confusion “What for ?” “I am putting out a call for a Crusade Command Meeting here in Canis Caelum and my quarters will not suffice, I want a long table set up for our guests as well as a feast to be prepared, make this place look presentable” Cearul again nodded and asked one more question before he left “Sir where will the marines currently resting in the second barracks go ?” Faolan shrugged “Either squash them into the other barracks or build a new one, the guest come first”.

With the orders giving Faolan set out to make the call, The leaders of the mighty Imperium would meet at Canis Caelum and he would be ready.

[Jorgon, Crion]

The bodies of orks and tyranids littered the ground, but not for long. The ripper swarm of Hive Fleet Cerberus would see to that. An endless tide seeped out of the jungle, bent on consuming any dead corpse it could find. There were few things it could not find with the eye sight from over 1,000 forms. The swarm scuttled across the ground, obliterating all signs of life beneath it, and leaving a trail of barren land. As the tide approached the still living tyranid bio-forms, those units sped away as fast as their limbs carried them. No waste was to be had in the brood. Not one life or organic body.
CONSUME ALL
The rippers did not need to be reminded. This was their sole task, one they were adapted to do. None were around to stop them. Rippers ran up and down bodies, digging through them in all directions, stripping the meat off of the bones and even sometimes chewing through the bones in their eagerness to fulfill their duty. Raveners, orks, nobs, warriors. All were the same to them. None were spared from their insatiable hunger. The mass swept through the camp. By now, the camp was drowning in beasts, all ripping apart as many bodies as possible, bit by bit. Until it was over.
Return
The swarm fled as quickly as it had came. If any were to glance back at the fortress of KoreGog da Bloody, they would find no sign of battle. It had never existed.

[Pike-Ard, Crion]

The reclamation pools of the hive were teeming with biomass. As fast as rippers could throw themselves in, was as fast as it could be pumped out to the Norn-Queen. She sat fat on her throne, gorging herself on thousands of organisms as they perished to feed her. Egg after egg spilled out around her making the room full to the brim. At the far edges, fully grown and fully adapted hormagaunts split from their casings. Termagaunts readied their assortment of ranged weaponry. Raveners slithered next to the new lictors. The swarm was regenerated to 115% of what it came here with.
It was with this, that change would come. No longer would the brood have to fear the leftover orks. No longer would the hive have trouble with Gorgrim. No longer shall the trees gorge themselves upon the hive’s bio-forms without getting hurt in return. The swarm shall cast a shadow so large that the galaxy’s pathetic warp will be SILENT!
LONG LIVE THE HIVE! LONG LIVE THE HIVE!
All of the tyranids of Hive Fleet Cerberus let loose a massive roar. Wild animals scattered in all directions from this huge, terrifying noise. The brood had been reborn, stronger than before, but this was only the beginning.
Long. Live. The. Hive.

Ta'lok sat cross legged once more, faintly murmuring to himself with closed eyes. Through the darkness, he saw strange visions. He saw fires spreading through forests, a drake dragging itself across the open sky with bony wings, but his journey ended with past kroot hunting some prey. Whenever his kindred appeared in his meditations, they would always do something to acknowledge his presence. These hunters had simply nodded while murmuring "Shaper" that easily carried to Ta'lok, despite their distance, before they would return their focus on their hunt. Ta'lok could almost feel the tall grass brushing past his legs as he walked towards the spirit kroot, and the breeze that ruffled his clothes went unfelt. There were only two senses given to those on a spirit walk; sight and sound. The rest were lost along the journey, making it harder to remain in the ghostly realm for long. Ta'lok was a stone's throw away from his long deceased kindred when everything around him turned gray and dispelled like a mist. Kroot, grass, and air, all were gone in an instant.

Ta'lok felt himself plummet into a free fall. An icy wind pierced through his clothing, and the Shaper would have closed his eyes, but it was too dark to tell if he had already done so or not. After what felt like an eternity, the Shaper found himself standing, alone, in an empty field. It stretched on further than the Kroot's eye could see, but that wasn't what worried Ta'lok. The lack of any color did, however. Never had he gone without proper sight in the visions, as was the custom. Shaking his head, Ta'lok walked forwards, knowing that all would be explained as he ventured forwards.

As the Shaper pushed onwards, thunder rumbled in the distance, and lightning cackled overhead. Soon, a downpour formed, and cascaded over Ta'lok. Burnt houses and corpses formed out of the drizzle, showing recent signs of war and slaughter despite their gray coloring. Ta'lok continued to stride past the murdered people and their ruined homes, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. Of why he was seeing it. The Shaper froze when he heard a deep laughter from underneath the ground itself, and saw buildings slowly sink into the earth, disappearing beneath the soaked grass like they were never there.

Then, what little light Ta'lok used to guide himself was snuffed out, and he heard the scuttling of many claws against hard rock.

With a jolt, Ta'lok came to, composing himself and seeing that his visions were over for the time being. The Shaper coughed, and saw specks of blood splatter on the ground in front of him. "And so," Ta'lok whispered, "comes a new war to Crion."

++LUNA EPSILON//HIVE COGGER++

Lamech knew anger, he had known it all his life. He rose with it in the morning, and he wrapped himself in it when he lay down at night. Rage and violence were all that had kept him alive, but they now had to compete with a new feeling: shame. In the guest room of the governor's spire, surrounded by bloody bedsheets and crude medical utensils, Lamech lay in the midst of his failure. His arm, reduced to a covered stump below the elbow, was bandaged and awaiting its replacement. The bionic arm, stripped from some spiteful old Arbiter's corpse, lay on the dresser nearby, to be sewn on once Lamech had recovered enough to heal.

He rose to his feet, groggy with blood loss and pain, resting his hand on a tray of medical tools. He had risen from the dregs and scum of Cogger to the first of the Drachen, the chosen of Lazarus's crusade against the hive. And he had destroyed it all with a single doomed raid. Lazarus would surely never give him command again, and the Flayed Lord would never hear of his name.

Like so many millions before him, he was doomed to obscurity, failure, and the eventual mercy of death.

His fingers closed around a scalpel with a shaking firmness, raising it to eye level. All across the Legion, whispered among the humans and dared among the Astartes, was the tale of the Mark. None knew how the Flayed Lord came to be so, but it was the highest degree of loyalty and sacrifice to willingly flay one's own face in honor of His wounds. That, Lamech swore to himself, would surely earn the Flayed Lord's eyes.

No mortal has ever survived the Mark.

It was known among the Brotherhood: to take the Mark was suicide, none could withstand the pain, horror, and blood that such an offering required. It was reserved for the titans in armor that strode behind them, the superhuman warlords who they worshipped and followed. The Mark was the domain of gods, not of men. He gritted his teeth hard, letting anger and fury steady his hand, wrapping himself in bloodlust. The image of that Eldar swordsman came to mind, and Lamech envisioned bearing him to the ground, stamping a foot into his broken armor, and cutting away the xenos's skin one inch at a time.

With a defiant roar, Lamech brought the scalpel to his cheek and began to cut.

++LUNA EPSILON//MT GORGON++

Lazarus's steps echoed in the cave, resounding off the damp walls and ancient stones. His time on Luna Epsilon had been a relentless tide of noise and fury ever since the first riot in Hive Cogger. Since then, the war in the Hive, the battle at the Maw, and now the two forces closing in on his city had occupied too much of his time. It was quiet here, on Mt. Gorgon, and he savored it while it lasted. The two Drachen he had brought with him stood nervously outside, staring back at the flames and smoke from Hive Cogger. They longed to return to the fight, and they would soon.

He brought no light with him into the cave, leaving the pale blue glow of his mechanical eye to show him the way. He saw the world in eerie shades through that lens: an ancient bionic torn from a techpriest when its manufactorum finally fell to Lazarus's follower. He had borne it for so long that it was difficult to remember a time when he had both his eyes.

* * * *

He was still young, but no longer just another face in the Flayed Lord's horde. He was a champion of the Legion, one who stood with giants and gods, but now he lay on his back, surrounded by a cacophony of madness as his fighters struck back against the xenos ambush. His left eye was gone, a smoldering it of blackened bone and burning flesh marked its passing.
He could feel his skull had cracked under the sniper's bolt, and with the cold chill of defeat, he waited to fade into the demented afterlife.

Why was he not dead?

* * * *

Lazarus shook off the memory, slowing as he followed the decline of the cave towards the center of the mountain. The massive tunnel still bore the cracks and debris from where the dragon had torn its way out, and each step sent a skittering of small stones into the darkness.

He mistook it for a wall at first, such was its mass. The dragon stirred as Lazarus' foot sent a new rivulet of gravel sliding into the cavern chamber, swinging its serpentine head around faster than anything that size should have managed. The beast's eyes snapped open, catching the light from Lazarus's bionic and glinting a menacing azure in the darkness. A deep hiss, beginning in its throat, rose and roared until the terrible noise filled the cavern.

Lazarus stood still, waiting for the hiss to subside before he began to walk slowly forwards. Part of his mind was replaying the distant visions of the dragon blasting free of the mountain, laying waste to the area around it. He should have been afraid, if not terrified beyond reason. But it had been a very long time since something as petty as his own death caused him fear.

* * * *

He was a young man then, barely past childhood, with nothing but a knife in his hand and a hundred others beside him. They ran across the battlefield in a seething tide, screaming and spitting as the guardsmen ahead formed firing lines. Their lasguns dropped a dozen cultists in a wave of burning light, but the rest came on regardless. Lazarus leaped over one corpse, singing a wild chant to the dark gods, and found himself face-to-face with the enemy colonel. He flew at the officer, bearing him to the ground in a frenzy of strikes and frantic grappling before the old man could react. Lazarus' hands found the colonel's throat and he squeezed hard, blotting out the madness around him.

He shouted to the dark gods to give him strength, and they did. He would spend the rest of his life regretting that shout.

* * * *

The dragon's head towered over him, its hot breath dashing his coat back and forth with each rush of air. It was a monolith of power, and as he stood in its shadow, Lazarus understood. He now knew why the gods had led him to Luna Epsilon, why a chance orbital accident had led them to land on the moon instead of Crion itself. He understood why his search for the Amaranth had been fruitless, leaving him stranded at Cogger, in the mountain's shadow. He understood why the Hive burned from without and within, the events that had led to the dragon's release.

He understood why, when his hive was under seige, he felt the urge to return to the mountain. When he spoke, it was with neither anger nor command.

“They made me strong once, too. The gods, the daemons, the spirits beyond the world.” He spread his arms, displaying the scarred chaos star etched into his chest decades ago. “I belong to them now.”

He reached up and placed his hand on the beast's snout. The dragon snorted hard, its eyes blazing, but it did not move. This close, close enough to feel the tension and rage contained in its form, Lazarus could feel the taint of Chaos boiling in its soul.

He didn't smile. But neither did he flee.

“You belong to them too.”

Lord Governor Tobias Payne looked at the reports on his desk the news was mixed.

Apparently the inquisition has assumed control of outpost Gin one of the military installations on Luna Epsilon. Commander Grayson was requesting permission to remove the inquisitorial forces, Payne replied to him saying that he is to accommodate the inquisition with in reason, and that he is to report any actions they take. However, the men stationed at outpost Gin were but a sliver of the inquistion’s forces, the bulk of the men were laying siege to Cogger Hive. They made no report of how the battle fairs.

The rumors of the inquisition purging entire populations on suspicion of heresy were no longer rumors for Payne as had received reports of inquisition soldiers slaughtering every last refugee that made encampment outside of Drake’s Point. Payne gave no grievance over the loss of his denizens rather he was worried about possible Tiller retaliation.

Speaking of the Tillers the 85th Tempestus Scions had request permission to declare martial law in the city of New Pavus. The city was once a beacon of Crion nationalism now it was a den of separatist scum. Payne would gladly approve the Scions request and decided he would meet with them in person to deliver the news.

House Valorn, Dorn’s Last Wish, the Emperor’s Hounds and the Space Wolves had won some major victories against the local ork rabble, it is said that the arms men of house Valorn slew the fearsome ork warlord Kernal Bloodkill. That ork had plagued the Namrex dunes since the days of Tobias’s great grandfather Maximus, its death was long overdue.

More good news from the east, apparently the orks have been distracted as of late, only a few months ago they were near the gates of Ros Hannoi. Whatever was keeping the orks busy he hoped it would keep them busy for a while. Lord Mayor Maldonado could finally breath a sigh of relief, for now at least.

Tal’lok the governor’s secret mercenary had brought him the head of Francis Beacon. Payne was sickened at the sight of the detached head but his Kroot ally seemed fond of theatrics.

There was no word on the Eldar. That worried Tobias a great deal, he hoped that Captain Taranis would find success on his search and destroy mission.

As Payne finished signing the last of his letters the door to his office opened. A figure entered the room, Tobias’s eldest nephew Rodrick Payne. A man of twenty-nine years Rodrick was the Captain of Kamrian Keep he wore a suit of green carapace armor holding a helm at his side. Rodrick was one of four of Tobias’s nephew’s. The other three nephews were his brother Percival and his cousins Tybalt and Grace the twins. Each of them had prestigious titles and post in the Crionian regular army and were paid a handsome commission. Payne spoke first feigning excitement to see his nephew “Rodrick, I haven’t seen you since the feast, How’s your arm.” Rodrick spoke briskly wishing to skip the usual small talk “It’s healed well uncle. We have a problem.” Tobias saw how unusually grim his nephew’s face was and spoke “What kind of problem.” Rodrick placed the note on his desk and Tobias began to read.

Planetary Governor Tobias Paynne,
This is a broadcast from Sunstrike Cadre, disavowed of the corrupt Tau Empire. We offer no threats, no harm, to you or any of your vassals unless provoked. We simply wish to settle for a time in Indo-Cambria until our path is made clear to us, and then we will leave. If you comply, we will allow an archeological team of yours to investigate a cleansed Blood Dragon ruin, alongside my own Earth Caste scholars, with all right to trinkets beyond our care going to you. Failure to accept our offering of peace will result in one of your holds falling to our technological superiority. You will fall next, and I would see to it that your rival, Horatio Paynne, would take your mantle, and rule with us at his side. If you raise your arm in peace, we will leave you to your work. If you raise your arm in violence, we will hunt you down, and see you destroyed. Mediate on this, Governor.

Shas'O Tash'var Kor'Kauyon Mont'yr Kais Or'es Doran Gal'leath (Commander Skyhunter) –
transcribed from T'au by Gue'vesa'El Vandred.

Tobias remained silent. He was unsure how to proceed, the Tau were still not openly hostile yet he could not allow a xeno force to occupy his world. He could not ally with with the filth of xenos nor could he allow Horatio to gain them as his own. After a few more minutes of silence Rodrick spoke “What are your orders uncle.” Tobias slumped back in his chair and spoke “Who knows of this letter.” Rodrick spoke “You, me and a vox operator.” Tobias spoke “Kill him, we can not allow word to spread. In the mean time Advice Lord Mayor Maldonado that he is on red alert due to suspicious ork activity. If these Tau aim to take Cambria then Ros Hannoi is their first stop. We never received this letter. If we don’t take any action perhaps the Tau won’t either. We will deal with the Tau after we handle the rest of our foes.” Rodrick pounded his fist to his chest and spoke “Your will be done.” The captain turned on his heel and exited the office.

Payne took the letter and placed it into the safe under his desk none would know of this, for now.

"Boss, I don't fink dis will work."

"Just keep quiet an' watch. I'm da boss, so it will work."

Gorgrim gave a quick tug on the rope, and with a nod of satisfaction, he used it to climb on top of Killrod. The warboss let out a burst of laughter, and fired his gun into the air in enthusiasm. "Why are we doin' dis again?" Killrod grumbled, his power shears idly moving through the air.

"Because, last time we sent trukks. Da trukks are blown up now, so what do we do next?" Gorgrim said, punching the top of the deff dread in enthusiasm.

"Get bigga trukks?" Killrod asked.

"No, weze walkin' dere. Dey kill trukks, so we won't bring trukks for dem ta kill. Clever, huh?"

"I don't see you walkin'" Killrod grumbled as he lurched forwards, leading Gorgrim to the head of the ork mob outside their encampment.

Gorgrim flashed his tusks in a grin, "Dats cuz I'm da boss." Using the rope as a reign, the warboss tugged it to the side, and Killrod spun around to face the mob. "Alright, ya gitz," Gorgrim roared, "Dat Cook is goin' down, an' I ain't takin' no for an answer when I tell him to bend over an' kiss my big, green-" Gorgrim's speech was interrupted by an ork howling in pain as it was sheared in half by a Killa Kan. The boss turned to look at the boy, who evidently tried to climb onto the Killa Kan, attempting to repeat Gorgrim's success with Killrod. Gorgrim let out a bother burst of laughter, and shouted "Glotzinga! You'ze got a patient ta fix!" The Warboss turned his head back to his mob, and with a shout of "Let's go get 'em! WAAAAAAGH" he led them forwards, to Gorehound da Cook.

Behind the roaring mob, the ork boy lay on the ground, unsure if being cut in half was worse than a meeting with Glotzinga or not. He got his answer when a large stick clubbed him in the nose, and a shrill voice yelled at him "Let's go! Let's go! We can't fix ya in da dirt, can we? Ize already got just da plan for ya. Howz ya like tank treads?" With that, Glotzinga used a long hooked item to latch onto the orks mouth and dragged him towards his shack.

While the Mad Dok got on with his gory work, Gorgrim was enjoying the sight and sound of his mob as they marched to Gorehound's base. Not even Killrod grumbling about not being a trukk ruined his mood, and he couldn't rid himself of his toothy grin as he looked forwards, trying to make out Gorehound's base with his beady eyes.

Gorgrim laughed as he heard the sound of alarm horns carry over to him, and it only encouraged his boyz to make more noise and raise more alarms. Some even blew their own horns, all of which were looted in the few assaults they had lead on their camp. Able to see individual orks on the ramparts of the base, Gorgrim viciously lashed out with his reins, and Killrod surged forwards, trampling two orks in the process. "Serves 'em right for bein' in front of me," Gorgrim laughed. To his surprise, not a single spear was thrown at them, and the horns had stopped blowing. Some of Gorgrim's band had tried blowing their horns again to get them all to start again, but it was in vain.

Gorgrim shrugged and steered Killrod to the center of the camp, where he saw the fat form of Gorehound laying on a bench next to a bonfire. With a cough, Gorehound sat up, and looked Gorgrim in the eye. "You'ze ain't gonna give up, ain't ya?"

"BadToofs don't give up, you should know dat by now. Now, take a good look, Cook." Gorgrim rumbled. "All my boyz are on da ground, you're on da ground, an' I'm up here. What does dat tell ya?"

Gorehound gave a grunt before answering, "It makes you da boss. Gorgrim, I'm done. Dem zoggin' Emperor's Hounds banged up me boyz good. You'ze da boss, and you'ze gotta be da one ta smash 'em."

Gorgrim burst out in laughter at da Cook. "You can't handle some beakies? Dats what's bangin' dis place up? Zoggin' beakies?" Gorgrim kept laughing at the other boss, but suddenly stopped as a moment of realization dawned upon him. "Beakies got nice loot, real nice loot. Cook, tell me about deze Hounds, I want ta meet 'em."

A malicious smile crept onto Gorehound's face, "Oh, dey would love dat. Now, where do I begin?"

Dragons return

Volund looked on with the other iron priests of the chapter as thunderhawk transporters landed the salvaged relics, first the 12 demios rhino then 3 predator battle tanks of the same age and a pair of ancient land raiders. “Last one, tell the crew to be very careful, ready to move the super heavy mastodon” a while later soon the heavily laden craft came slowly into land bearing the priceless hull of the tank, its crew very relieved to unclamp the monstrous weight. Volund walked forward to the ancient machine of the great crusade, sensing it could still be restored and brought back to life given time. Soon towed into the motor pool and the slow process of checking and tallying the repairs that would need to be done from the smaller demios rhinos to the complex land raiders lastly to the mighty superheavy assault transport. The old rhinos would be first along with the Tanks, it was a design well known and differed little from the mars pattern used by nearly every chapter in the Impirium.

The reinforcements from wolf base quickly arrived at the site henery and brought specialist gear to combat foes found in the tunnels such as melta and flame weapons as none knew what they would find in the old blood dragon ruins. The once small deployment was growing larger and soon Auxiliary forces were scouting the surface with auguar arrays and locate any other entrances in the area.

Soon the first teams entered the gloom of the ruined garages lower levels and storage areas, derelict rooms of supplies and spares lay in ad-hoc piles and mounds that would be investigated later when the site was secured, maybe even the parts needed to bring the mastadon now known from its internal bulkheads artwork as grond the siege breaker. More broken doors and gates followed, more piles of debris and even a natural tunnel cut in mad turns as if something was trying to escape.

“100metres and closing, detecting movement. “ Instantly snap into high alert and beginning of advance clearing the route ahead room by room to guard the flanks for any surprises. At the end they found what they had detected, it was a dreadnought of the blood dragons in faded but still visible paintwork upon the ancient hull. Still serving it boomed out on a crackling vox array “identify yourself or f...eel my anger” as it struggled to arm assault cannon barrels jarring from disrepair and age. “Stand down venerable brother. Loyalist. Space wolves, 9h great company under wolf lord Ulfric Storm claw. “

Thr marine replied hoping the veteran still had the mind to understand what he had said, “now I…”static “recognise your sigil, son of Russ. I require assistance to leave this place “ calming slightly and lowering weapons the iron priest came to the fore and approached. “I am of Mars, let me check your ancient chassis and we shall bring you to the surface brother. You safe brother of the dragon” its leg fused but soon repaired and able to move freely again the group lead the dreadnought to the surface whilst others searched the site clearing it of anything of value or interest to the chapter.

Ground teams found nothing of interest to the site, but also where sure there was nothing else hidden there to. Why they chose to store such valuable armour in such a remote place and so far from the old chapters main base on the planet was entirely unknown however, also why leave a dreadnought, did they plan on return but fate had its way and no blood dragon had returned to relive the brother who guarded the garage or many centuries entirely alone.

Back at the wolf base they had managed to bring the rhino's back to service and soon were being tested on the training runs and there spirits brought back to realize their own capabilities, all turned through as a mighty roar from the garage and the mklb land raider drove out of thr garage to loud howls and hammering of fists on chest plates. It's brother was too far gone but it's parts now carried on bruning the relic to life and to future service once more.

At the back of the room stood Grond, still being worked on as the loud hammering of machines shaped new custom built track links for the massive qaud drives beaten from solid metal ingots to form the massive treads.

Moria and Amanda valorn sat watching the affair from above high off the roof of the control tower as large dust plumes rose and tanks raced, sqauds trained to disembark under veteran grey hunters and long fangs close watch and battle formations of tanks and transports engaged in mock battles and missions in a precise dance of marine and machine no human could match.

Repent. Feel the fires of Redemption

The fire burned, but its light was dim.

Good, now brighter. Fan your righteous anger

The fire burned and now its light was brighter.

You have it now. Become the flame. Purge the unclean.

The fire burned and was blinding. It was flung far from its source, but dissipated mid-flight and its source died along with it. Nu-Alhuraq felt the distain of his inner-self as he quickly attempted to must his flame in vain. He could bring himself to realign his mind. His flame was dead and darkness returned to the room. He sat down cross-legged on the stone floor of the Warpath Furnace. Despite the fact that he was well accustomed to the sweltering heat of the ship's interior, he found himself drenched in sweat. It was both physically and mentally restraining to attempt to learn how to master his psychic power alone. Many times after pushing himself to the breaking point, he heard the voices of the warp call to him. Desperate to not bring more shame to the Chapter, these were shut out quickly. Nu-Alhuraq had no master to teach him the ways of the Librarian, the ways of the Bwatakwa. He had named the psychic discipline of the Arbiters of Truth, the Bwatakwa, after a former battle barge of the Arbiters, the one that became a monument on Kattifrakk II, the Warpath Crucible.

The Bwatakwa revolved around becoming fire, becoming a weapon. Nu-Alhuaq needed to become a weapon, but he could not let himself go, as he discovered was a very easy task when performing the Bwatakwa. He focused his mind around the prospect of fire. The cleansing, purifying, beautifully destructive nature of the flame. This focus was called his Fârne, his furnace. With his Fârne, he could harness his energy into his shield and his sword. He could deflect incoming fire and set his enemy's guns ablaze at the same time. Despite the abilities the Bwatakwa gave him, all of it was useless if he could not harness his Fârne. Without the Fârne, his sense of reality dulled and he became indiscriminate in his actions. Everyone, friend or foe, felt the fires of the Bwatakwa. Should Nu-Alhuraq continue to enact the fiery doom of the Bwatakwa, he would be given the Emperor's Peace before he was lost to the warp forever.

The heavy rocrete door behind him squealed open. Nu-Alhuraq did not turn to address the newcomer out of fear of breaking his Fârne again.

"Brother-Epistolary, the Council of Ishmae demands your presence," the newcomer whispered, his voice trailing into a hiss at "presence." Nu-Alhuraq, not wishing to fully break his Fârne, discharged his pent up energy, which he called the Fawrah, and lit the lines of candles that occupied the many shelves around the room. Nu-Alhuraq stood and turned to face the quiet voice.

"Ahg-ni! How goes your training? I will assume you have learned the Fârne? That is why you went to the Council before I?" the Epistolary said, clapping his Brother on the shoulders. Ahg'ni's face remained its usual, a lifeless expression on one half and a wide smile on the other. Dark Eldar nerve poison had made his face that way, but Nu-Alhuraq never knew which side of the face was paralyzed. "Come Brother, we have much to talk about... Tell me about Crion..."

* * *

Nu-Alhuraq took his place in his throne on the left side on his Chapter Master, Ajax Sylus. Between him and Sylus was Judge Dezmon, Judge of the First Company. On Sylus' right side was Judge Greijer, Judge of the Second Company and Commander of the Fleet. Beyond Judge Greijer was the Head Apothecary, Maealij, and Master of the Forge, Khal. This was the Council of Ishmae.

Judge Hetarr, a newly appointed Judge as of the Arbiters' current crusade, stood before the Council. He had stated he had urgent news that he had to give in person, which effectively halted all operations on Crion. Why he did not relay this information to the Angel, the Arbiters' informant, it was unsure.

"Lord of the Arbiters, myself included, it has come to my attention through my own partaking that the Greenskins on the primary moon of Crion have constructed a blasphemous effigy to their gods, a Gargant. It is in our best interest that we inform Crusade Command immediately before they take the Orbital Elevator and spread to Crion like a plague."

"Informing Crusade Command would be the logical course of action as per the Codex Astartes," Sylus said, stroking his beard. It seemed as if Sylus had aged a hundred years in the course of five. The long, black beard dominated his face and ran down to his chest.

"Does the Crusade Command even have the resources to deal with the threat of a Gargant?" Dezmon inquired of Sylus. Hetarr scoffed quickly then restrained himself as Sylus locked his gaze on the young, arrogant Judge.

"From what Anna- eh erm... from what the Angel has told me, we are ill-equipped to deal with a force of that magnitude."

Judge Hetarr, quick to regain his footing in the debate, struck back at Sylus, "That is why you don't trust a girl with the matters of the Astartes." Sylus was momentarily wounded by Hetarr's words, but made it invisible to the eye. Nu-Alhuraq, on the other hand, saw it quite keenly. "We Astartes, unlike the barbaric Orks, have strategy. We will put maneuver the dim-witted fools then crush them mercilessly."

"You speak like fire, Hetarr, always hungry for destruction," Nu-Alhuraq retorted.

"Who are you to talk about fire, Witch?" Hetarr snapped back, taking a step in Nu-Alhuraq's direction. Nu-Alhuraq stood to face Hetarr, though a full head shorter, and harnessed his Fârne. Molten fire was visible beneath his skin and his eyes shown hotter than Kattifrakk's white sun.

"I will not have this senseless violence on my ship. Both of you stand down or I will blow you out an airlock!" Judge Greijer said, slamming his fist into the arm of his throne. Hetarr backed off slowly as Nu-Alhuraq's Fârne died down until only his hand glowed with fire. Nu-Alhuraq curled his hand into a fist and the light died. He opened his hand and deposited a pile of ash onto the floor of the Council chamber.

"Next time I am referred to as Witch, that will be all that remains of you." Nu-Alhuraq growled quietly, not wishing to draw the attention of the other Council members. Hetarr tapped his Deathmask then put his fingers to his eyes, then pointed to Nu-Alhuraq's. Nu-Alhuraq almost forgot Hetarr was still wearing his Deathmask. He was so accustomed to seeing a perpetual leer on Hetarr's face that the difference between silver and bronze was negligible.

Sylus looked to the floor and rubbed his forehead. The Council members all stared at Hetarr while Hetarr stared at Nu-Alhuraq. Khal was the first to break the silence.

"Motion to suspend Judge Hetarr from combat duties so he may meditate in solitude."

Each Council member nodded their head with the exception of Sylus, whom had crossed the room to one of the great water basins on either side of the Dreadnaught sized doors. He splashed the cool water on his face then hesitantly returned to his throne. Hetarr had removed his Deathmask when Sylus was away, though his expression did not change.

"Judge Hetarr, you are hereby sentenced to meditation in solitude, effective immediately. It should give you time to think about striking out against the Council," Sylus said, waving the Judge away. Hetarr aggressively approached Sylus' throne and Sylus rose to meet him. All the other Council members were out of their thrones as well. Hetarr looked Sylus in the eyes.

"You will regret this, Chapter Master," Hetarr said, his words dripping with hate. He stepped away from the throne then stormed out of the Council chambers. "YOU WILL REGRET THIS!" His words echoed through the chamber.

Listening Drone #005 - Audio Extract 00/21/40/63
Speakers: Rodrick Paynne (Nephew of Tobias Paynne)
Tobias Paynne (Lord Governor of Crion)

++INITIATING PLAYBACK++

*silence*

What are your orders, uncle?

Who knows of this letter?

You, me, and a vox operator-
Kill him, we cannot allow word to spread. *sigh* In the mean time, advise Lord Mayor Maldonado that he is on red alert due to suspicious ork activity. If these Tau aim to take Cambria then Ros Hannoi is their first stop. We never received this letter. If we don’t take any action perhaps the Tau won’t either. We will deal with the Tau after we handle the rest of our foes.

Your will be done. *door opening, leaving footsteps*

*safe opening*

++EXTRACT ENDS++

Skyhunter gritted his teeth. The holographic image of Sub-Commander Mirrorstone shook her head in sympathy. The Shas'O turned around to face Shadowbrand, the servos in his battlesuit whirring as he did so.
"Good placement of those listening bugs."

She beamed in praise, with a self-contented smile breaking over her grey face. "I wouldn't be sure if they were still operational after the Governor's palace incident. Turns out they are - much to our advantage."

"Indeed." Mirrorstone barked. "So, the Imperial dogs want to ignore us? I say we make them regret that decision."

Shadowbrand faced the base commander. "And risk losing our men in the attacks? We aren't like the Beg'el or Gue - we do not have the men to launch a head on attack, nor enough to sustain a protracted war against them. You heard the Governor. He won't attack unless we attack first."

"And what happens when he deal with his enemies? He'll bring his armies around and destroy us. We may as well strike whilst we can - depose the Governor, put Horatio in his place, and persuade the new Governor to call the other forces to a ceasefire as we move on."

"Would Horatio stand with us? Would he still support us when he is in the lofty seat of power? We risk too much getting involved in their affairs"

"I have specialists that could-"

"Enough!" Skyhunter's voice silenced Shadowbrand and Mirrorstone. He stood, hulked over in his suit. His brow was furrowed in thought. "I will not condone any actions to be made. Mirrorstone - prepare the cadre. I want us ready to repel an ambush if it comes to it. Contact our ork... allies. There may be bad blood between our races, but the crucible of battle forges all chains."
"Understood, Shas'O."
"Is First Recon Cadre still active in Ros Hannoi?" She nodded affirmatively. "Good - instruct Ghostwalk to give us some data on the defences of Ros Hannoi. Their sites of fortification, their combat doctrine, the lot. If possible, sabotage them. That will be all."

The hologram dissipated, the musky farm air swallowing the image of Shas'El Mirrorstone. Skyhunter turned again to Shadowbrand.
"What now, Commander?"

"I'm sending that pig another message. He will respond, and give us an answer, or we will raze his palace to the ground. He seems to have made a fatal flaw with Sunstrike Cadre - one he will live to regret. Send word out to Vandred to ready his cadre, and prepare Taskforce Ultra for battle." The Tau Commander gazed out from the barn window.
"We strike from the Sun."

Daniel had heard the shot, but due to the circumstances, he didn’t take much notice of it. It was only until he another shot, he started to search for the rest of his squad. The shot he had heard was not that of a sniper, more like a bolter. It was close too, he presumed 100 or so metres away from his position. As he made his way to the source, another shot rang out, this time fired from a sniper. Daniel picked up his pace. It wasn’t until he heard the grunt that he broke into a sprint. He skid past a tree as a bullet whizzed past his head. He rolled into cover as another bullet hit where he was a second ago. He put his eye to the scope and saw static. He switched on his vox and was again met by static. Vocals it is.
“Scouts, report position and cease fire!” He called out, but no response was returned.
“Here Sergeant…” It came from another nearby tree. Daniel crawled his way to the tree and was greeted by the armless Jakiel.
“By the Emperor Jak, what happened?” Daniel asked as he tried stemming the flow of blood.
“Well, I got shot.” Jakiel said plainly. He was met by a slap over the head.
“Even when you’re bleeding out, you still have time to bloody joke. Typical.” A chunk of the tree was blown to splinters.
“You’re right, it is a bloody joke, and you’re getting it all over your hands.” Another slap.
“That wasn’t even funny. You should be ashamed of yourself recruit.” Daniel finished wrapping up whatever remained of Jakiel’s arm into a tight bundle, which he finished off with a little bow.
“I like the touch Sarg, add a nice touch to it.” Jakiel responded cheerily, which was met by the third and final slap.
“You realise we’re getting shot at you know?” As if on cue, another chunk of the tree the pair were sheltering behind was decimated.
“No, I never would’ve thought.” Jakiel rolled and picked up his sniper rifle with his remaining hand, he leaned it on the tree to fiddle with the sight. “Too much interference, you think whatever is shooting at us is causing it?” Jakiel asked as he removed the sight.
“More than likely. Any word from the others?” Daniel asked as he too removed his scope.
“Nothing. So it’s back to good ‘ol iron sights again?” Jakiel asked as fired two rounds into the darkness shooting back at them. He pulled his head back at just the right time as a bullet whizzed past him. “Whoof, premonition don’t fail me yet!”
“Aye. But we can’t keep this up. I’m low on ammo, You?”
“I’m on six shots, want to make ‘em count?” He asked as he pulled his head back again.
“Sure, you need help running?” Daniel asked as he secured his rifle on his back.
“I lost my arm, not my bloody mind, of course I can run. You’ve seen me run without a leg, you know I’m perfectly capable.” Jakiel readied his rifle.
“Aye, Chaplain Benturas never liked you.”
“You think? He broke my damn leg in four places then told me to run up the Hyum mountains and back.”
“I know, I had to bloody carry you back. Ready to go on my mark?” Daniel asked once more.
“As ready as I ever will be.” Jakiel held his rifle up to his shoulder.
“Great. One, two…Three!” Daniel rose and ran full pelt in the opposite direction. Jakiel rose and shot the rifle one-handed. After every second shot, he turned and ran as fast as he could for a few seconds, then turned back and shot another two times. They had covered about a hundred metres before Jakiel ran out of ammo. “Keep going! You know how to not get shot!”
“Well of course I bloody do, I’ve survived this long!” Jakiel zig-zagged over shrubs and other obstacles as they appeared.
“Sergeant?” They both heard it. Daniel rolled into the cover of another tree and un-holstered his rifle once more.
“Here! Keep your head down, we got hostiles!” Daniel called out as Jakiel followed his Sergeant around the tree. Daniel fired several times into the darkness. “Emperor these things are persistent…” Then the night lit up. Red beams of light shred through the darkness and hurtled at the assailants.
“Took your time Matiel, we almost finished the party without you.” Daniel called out as his eyes adjusted to the near-daylight brightness.
“Manus is dead. As is Vanus.” Matiel said gloomily.
“They will be remembered. The Captain?” Daniel swore he would see them avenged.
“Position unknown, sir. You want to get extracted first, or do you want to talk some more?”
“I’ll go for the extraction first please.”
“I second that!” Jakiel called out over the noise of the volkite weapons.
“Great. Baron, if you please…” Matiel smiled from under his cowl.
“With pleasure.” The giant Knight Archeron let loose a giant gout of flame from its Archeron-pattern flamer. Using the opportunity, the two pinned scouts rose from cover and sprinted the last 50 metres to safety.

Six hours later

“Sir, the sun is up, and we have yet to hear anything from the Captain. Should we-“ Matiel was cut off
“Don’t continue. We look until we find something.” Daniel didn’t look up from searching.
“Yes sir.” Matiel went back to searching the ground.
“Sir! We got something.” Jakiel called out to the other two scouts. They and Falkon’s armsmen had been searching the immediate area for three hours now. It had taken them two hours to be sure of whatever was shooting them had been driven off, and another one to recover the bodies of their brothers. Jakiel led the two to whatever discovery he made. They made their way over to a Cliffside, and Jakiel leant over, picked up a bolter and showed it too Daniel.
“Its…-“ Jakiel started.
“…The Captains…” Daniel finished. “Get me some rope. The only place we haven’t checked yet is down the cliff.” Daniel did not wait for acknowledgement, he was already moving towards Falkon and his group.
“Sergeant, I’m glad to see you back in one piece.” Falkon extended his hand for a handshake.
“I lost two of my best scouts, and my Captain is missing. I am not glad for anything.” Daniel left Falkons hand waiting in the air. “I require some men to follow me down the cliff. We don’t have much rope, and my scouts will be busy searching for any other signs of the Captain or whatever was attacking us. You have five minutes do decide who is coming. Three men only.” Daniel turned and went back to the cliff. Falkon had to lower his hand back down.

Daniel had already secured his rope to a nearby tree. Falkon and another two armsmen approached, a man and a woman.
“We are ready Sergeant.” Falkon said as he too started to secure another rope to the same tree.
“You address me as Lord. Ceasar was nice to mortals, I am not Ceasar. You call me by my rank or name once you gain my respect. Understood, Captain?” Daniel responded gruffly.
“Understood Lord.” Falkon bit his tongue. The sergeant was in pain after the loss of his two scouts, so it was understandable that he was so annoyed. The other two armsmen secured themselves and the four made their way to the cliff.
“Alright, you’ve all done this, I don’t need nor want to baby you all, so get a move on.” With that, Daniel lowered himself off the plateau and plunged the first 50 metres. The three other followed him down, taking ten-twenty metre drops. Daniel continued taking bigger and bigger leaps, eventually reaching the ground minutes before the others. By the time Falkon and his two companions reached the ground, Daniel was already out of sight. Falkon and the two others un-holstered their rifles and scanned the area. With no immediate threats, they went off in search of the sergeant. They started running after they heard a single shot ring out.
“Sergeant?!” Falkon called out as he ran towards the sound.
“Here.” Falkon entered a small grove, and was greeted by the body of a large creature, only it was missing a chunk of its head. Daniel was slumped over a large pile of splinted wood and leaves. As the armsmen made their way over, they saw that it was not in fact, a pile of sticks and leaves, but the body of the Captain. His helmet was still on, he was missing an arm and the majority of the lower part of his torso, which was obviously being gnawed on by the now dead creature.
“I’m sorry…He was a good man…” Falkon said, and he truly meant it. He enjoyed the company of the Captain, he had never known any other Astarte to be so cheery, positive and open to jokes as he.
“He should’ve died in battle, not on a damned hunt.” Daniel pried off the fallen Captain’s helmet. “Centuries of experience, countless battles, all for naught. The chapter cannot lose anymore gene-seed, especially of this calibre. He shall rest in the halls of the dead from now on. May your soul find glory next to our father.” With that, Daniel placed the helmet in the Captains one remaining hand and picked him up. The long trek back to the Hive was a silent one.

Daniel had been sitting in the exact same spot he had been when Ceasar proposed to scare the two front guards. He disassembled his sniper rifle and put it back together again in less than two minutes. In all his years, nothing like this had ever happened, and felt the pain of the Captains loss dearly. Daniel had already informed the Chaplain, who had been eager to speak to Ceasar about the ensuing Eldar threat on Crion, but was lost for words after being told his best friend was assassinated. The sombre silence over the vox was chilling, and after several minutes of nobody having any words to say, Iodius said only one thing.
“The force is redeploying. Get to Crion as soon as you can. We have much to speak about in person.” He did not wait for a reply, and hung up. That call was four hours ago, and Daniel was still ill-prepared. For the first time in his life, he didn’t know what to do.

---Elsewhere---

“So it is done?”
“Yes Lord, I saw it with my own eyes.”
“Good. And our agent?”
“Where he’s meant to be. He awaits only an order.”
“Tell him that order will not be coming for a while. We still have much to prepare for.The followers of the Corpse-Emperor will not expect an attack from their own ranks.”
“Yes Lord. Is there anything else you wished for?”
“No, that is all.”
“Thank you Lord.”

=====Hive Torcan, Crion=====
The ground shook as the Imperial war machine marched on the city. Hundreds of Guardsmen accompanied by armored elements and Astartes and even a Knight. It was either a glorious or horrifying sight depending on where your allegiances lie. They strode into the city alert with weapons at the ready, Exitar spoke over the vox to the other commanders. “We’ll stop a block into the city and set up forward command, from there we’ll split the groups and carry on.” He received several replies noting the affirmative. Exitar strode at the head of the war party and found a suitable structure, he pointed at it, “This is forward command, all commanders report in.” He walked into the building, scorched and torn by war, but such was the fate of this hive. Captain Matesius and his command squad were the first to arrive, followed by Iodius and Sera Valorn. Exitar threw an object on a table and a map of the Hive appeared before them. “Matesius, take Battlegroup three and head towards the southern end of the Hive.” “Yes, sir.” “Iodius, take Batllegroup two and head to the Northern end of the Hive.” “It will be done.” “I’ll lead Battlegroup one towards the center of the city. Everyone know what they’re doing? Good, dismissed.” It took about 10 minutes for everyone to receive their orders and begin mobilizing.

-----A Couple Hours Later-----

Battlegroup 1
They had been marching about half an hour towards the city center uninterrupted Exitar sat perched atop the Knight Atrapos towards the front of the column, he kept sweeping the buildings. He had noticed more and more bloody displays as they neared the Hive’s reactor. His vox went live and a feminine voice came through, “Having fun up there?” “Shhh. Keep watch on the building on the left, three blocks up.” He jumped off the Knight and joined the other Terminators at the head of the party. Everything seemed calm, then Exitar caught something out of the corner of his eye. He looked to his right but saw nothing, he looked over the building then at the one on his left, there he saw it, dancing shadows. “Harlequin's!” The Imperials readied their weapons and began their marching forward. Several shots glanced off of the Terminators energy field, a couple of shots struck the ground. “Forward brothers! Let them know slaughter only Carcharodons can provide!” The Terminators charged into one of the buildings and began fighting the Eldar hiding there. A Brightlance was stopped by the Knight’s Ion shield and she returned it with a shot from her singularity cannon that collapsed several buildings in its vortex. Exitar ran onto the second floor of a building and jumped onto the Knight, “Sera, get to the reactor core, double time.” Immediately the Knight picked up pace. Sera burst through a wall to the reactor room and began applying supressingfire. Exitar fixed his eyes on a single Eldar at the master control console and lept again from the towering machine. The floor slightly cracked as he landed and began running towards the single Harlequin. It turned in time to have Exitar’s fist pass through its face. The Eldar hung there until Exitar lowered his arm. Exitar was joined by his fellow Carcharodons at the terminal. “Bastards. They tried to overload the reactors.” “Sir, they’re falling back, should we pursue?” “No, let them revel in failure.” Surprisingly they had sustained no casualties, but around 15 injuries, there were about a dozen Eldar corpses the men were able to collect. “Well done brothers. Celebrate the spoils of victory and feast on their corpses.” The Terminators returned to the column adorned in gore and blood, to the disgust of most around.

Battlegroup 2
Iodius marched at the head of his war column with his fellow Astartes, behind them were the Carcharodons and then behind them the Guardsmen with the Vehicles at the rear. They had been marching for an hour with no conflict, a couple buildings and they had been moving cautiously. For the last 15 minutes as the went farther north less and less buildings seemed to be destroyed, the streets seemed cleaner. They eventually got to a part of the city where the Upperhivers resided, they began peering out of windows. It wasn’t long before people began crowding the streets with excitement. The Guard and Astartes were met with a heroes welcome as they were showered with flowers and delicacies. Iodius wasn’t quite pleased with it, but he would rather have this then more dead men.

Battlegroup 3
Matesius and his men rode in a command Chimera towards the middle of the group. The Sternguard of Dorn’s Shield followed in the rear while the Carcharodon’s led in the front. Between them, roughly 50 Guardsmen and multiple vehicles marched through the street. They had been moving for about an hour and a half now, no sign of anything. It was quiet, too quiet. The leading Carcharodon signalled the column to stop, that’s when the first guardsman dropped.
“Get to cover!” Everyone scrambled for what cover they could find in the streets. Shots were fired from multiple windows but never the same one twice. More guardsmen dropped, they began firing at any and all windows in an attempt to suppress the onslaught. The Astartes trained their weapons on buildings but couldn’t see any Eldar, where they had marched like thunder, the Eldar had struck like lightning. Then it stopped, the Imperials kept firing for another minute or so. When all was said and done a squad’s worth of Guardsmen were dead, and not a single Eldar body found. It was a loss.

Guard Intro:
The only good Ork was a dead one.
This was something that every Helldiver learned upon induction into the Regiment, and it was the first, and the most important lesson that they would ever learn. The Elysian 14th Drop Regiment, better known as the Helldivers, had earned a well-deserved reputation over the years for their skill at fighting xenos, most particularly Orks. It was a reputation that they took great pride in, and it was one that they were eager to prove the validity of every chance that they could. While they were perfectly willing to respond to any and all threats to Imperial rule, they took particular pleasure in fighting Orks, and wars against them were always prosecuted with great vigor. As a result of this preference, new recruits in the regiment were always given plenty of extra training in the best ways to fight and kill Orks. That training would soon be put to the test, Colonel Taylor mused as his Valkyrie screamed down towards the surface of the moon below. Several weeks ago a distress signal had been received by Imperial High Command in this sector, and the call for reinforcements for the beleaguered planet had gone out far and wide, eventually finding the Elysian 14th Regiment, who were on training exercises nearby. Upon hearing of the various threats that plagued this world, the regiment had been more than happy to respond to the call to battle.

Taylor was jolted out of his thoughts when the voice of the pilot came in over the intercom saying “5 minutes to the drop zone Colonel, conditions of the drop-site unknown,” “Understood” Colonel Taylor replied, then he turned off the intercom and turned to regard the faces of the troopers who he had chosen to accompany him to claim a landing zone for the regiment. Their chosen drop zone was the Isles of Pratt, located on the first moon of Crion. A mighty Ork Warlord was rumored to have taken up residence somewhere on the moon, a rumor that Taylor fervently hoped was true. If the regiment was able to put that Ork down, it would bring great prestige to their regiment, as well as stop a potential WAAAAAAGH! before it ever picked up any real steam. Then the light above the rear hatch switched from red to green, indicating that they had reached their drop point and that the ramp would soon open. Around him men stood up and began their usual equipment checks, with each man checking the gear of the man in front of him, before he made his own checks. By doing so trust was built between the soldiers and equipment integrity was assured. Just as Taylor finished his check, the ramp began to lower and air rushed into the troop bay. Below the Valkyrie he could see flashes of green as the nimble vehicle zoomed by overhead, and with a great cry he and the Guardsmen around him sprinted forward and leaped out of the Valkyrie. All around him he could see other Valkyries roar by as they dropped their human cargoes. “Let the enemies of the Imperium beware,” Taylor grinned silently “the Emperor’s Helldivers are here.”

A rather unusually serious meeting, one quite similar to many others that had occurred in the last few days at the base of the Masque of the Blameless Culprit.

“I say no,” Dranc cautioned, “Involving the Imperials to that extent has never gone well in the past and it will not do so now. They will do things their usual way, throw bodies and ammunition at the problem until it stops being a problem. This is a situation that requires finesse.”

“Indeed,” Imryll responded, “That is why I believe we can use them! It is easier to produce finesse when you have someone else to do the heavy lifting for you. They can distract the forces of Chaos while we work in the shadows, as we always have.”

“The forces of Chaos do not fear a strike from the shadows,” Feubryn said mildly, “They fear the champion who stands against them in the light.”

Dranc nodded. “Good, you agree -”

“Which is something we can use,” Feubryn cut him off, “You focus more attention on that which you fear than that which you do not. We will do our best to point the Imperials at the forces of Chaos, and use the distraction they provide to find an opening to carve out victory.”

“Our Craftworld cousins have tried that, many times,” Dranc sighed tiredly, “It usually ends with the death of far too many Eldar lives.”

“Dranc,” Feubryn scoffed, “Do you take me for some Farseer, who can speak only in riddles? I will not leave them guessing. We will obtain information on the forces of Chaos at play here, and we will present this information, quite plainly, to the Imperial forces here. We will go out of our way to avoid the Imperials here as much as possible, otherwise – I have no desire to start a slugging match with the Space Marines when their even more treacherous and deranged cousins may be lurking around the corner, waiting to strike.”

“So… we keep doing what we've been doing, then?” Imryll asked.

“...Yes, I suppose so,” Feubryn admitted, “With the caveat that-”

“Sorry to interrupt,” Fallacy poked her head into the tent, “But we seem to be under attack.”

“Not to worry, we were just about to finish,” Feubryn said idly, “Now then, where was I – wait, what?”

–

The attack that the Orks had brought to bear would have surprised anyone with it's suddenness and ferocity – even those accustomed to fighting the Orks. So when the forces of Craftworld Iybraesil found themselves struggling to hold back the green tide that suddenly threatened to swallow them whole, it was a rather understandable predicament to be in.

Understandable, but really quite inconvenient.

It started when the forward patrols caught sight of the first vanguards of the Ork force – they skirmished with them at first, but fell back quickly as the main force made itself known - a powerful army made up of many thousands, with crude mechanical contraptions backing them.

The Aspect Warriors of the various shrines were skilled warriors, each one worth many of the green-skinned brutes they faced – but numbers were brought to bear with unusual swiftness for the Orks, and they found themselves overwhelmed. Ork rokkit and shoota fire had gotten unusually lucky and put many of their vehicles out of action, while, at the centre of their camp, Farseer Lilliana and her personal guard fought ferociously to stave off the hordes surrounding them, crackling energy flashing as Orks died by the dozens.

It was not enough.

Fortunately, it bought time for a very different barrage, which was.

Large explosions raked the Ork hordes, blowing large holes in the mob as Voidweavers flew overhead, prismatic cannons flaring as they unleashed their deadly payload into the Waaagh!.

Following them came the Skyweavers, flashing overhead and hurtling toward the Orks' Deff Dreads and Killa Kans – shots from their haywire cannons connected one by one and the mechanical killing machines failed, many even outright exploding.

Then came the Starweavers, dropping the deadliest payload of all – Harlequins.

Feubryn and the main leadership figures of the Masque dropped from a Starweaver in front of Lilliana.

“Farseer,” Feubryn said grandly, “This particular dance seems rather hectic! I hope you do not mind if we cut in?”

“Not at all,” Lilliana nodded tiredly.

“Excellent. Light Troupe, with me,” Feubryn began barking orders, “We attack to the south. Cuddio, as the main bulk of their force is there, you and your Mimes can join us. Imryll, take the Twilight troupe and face them in the West. Dranc, you are to take the Dark Troupe North and hunt down any Orks who have managed to get around the defences and may attempt to encircle us.”

“Do you wish for my forces to take the East?” Lilliana asked.

“No,” Feubryn shook his head, “I wish for your forces to rest and recuperate. Fallacy will take the east.”

–

The Light Troupe Pistoliers were a literal hail of Shuriken fire, Neuro Disruptor blasts and Fusion beams as they carved a swathe through the Ork horde. Larger Nobs were picked off with precision shots from Neuro Disruptors, while mechanical threats like Killa Kans were either blown away with blasts from Fusion Pistols or blasted from above by Voidweavers and Skyweavers, which continued to circle the battlefield, raining vibrant hell down upon the Ork force. At the centre was Feubryn, hands a blur as he swapped between pistols, reloading and firing as countless Orks fell before him.

The Ork's cause was not helped when, at their back, the mob was becoming even more disorganised due to the daring attacks by Cuddio's mimes who seemed to almost appear from nowhere, kill several of the largest Orks in the mob, and vanish into thin air again. The sudden leadership crisis this caused slowed any possible advance down to a halt, and the disorderly mob was in no position to resist the furious attack by the Light Troupe, their halt soon turning to a panicked retreat over the corpses of hundreds of their fellows.

–

Meanwhile, in the West, the Orks seemed to turn on each other with savage abandon as Imryll weaved her illusions across the battlefield. Meanwhile, the Twilight Troupe, unlike the bold, front-facing approach favoured by the Light Troupe, were more cautious, making precision attacks in precisely calculated parts of the mob, goading the Orks into advancing in a particular direction. As the main body of the Ork's Western force passed through a particular, narrow stretch of forestry, the Voidweavers and Starweavers flew overhead, raining down a focused barrage which carved huge swathes through the Ork force, breaking it instantly. The surviving Orks, once the calamitous assault was over, began to flee south.

–

The Northern Orks never got a chance to flee. The shadows seemed to get larger and swallow unwary Orks whole, and the Mob got more and more nervous and jumpy as their comrades slowly began to disappear, one-by-one, until finally, they were set upon by a deadly shadow in the shape of a Reaper. None would make it even as far as the camp.

–

“They sought to thwart the unwary sort,” Fallacy said quietly, “But as they fought without a thought,” she stepped out into a clearing to face the approaching Ork mob, “They would find their efforts were for nought.”

A blur of prismatic colour fell upon the Orks, and their eastern force soon broke with the others.

–

The lethality, precision and effectiveness of the Harlequin's counter-attack stunned the Orks, and they never truly recovered. Their main force scattered into the winds as straggling, smaller mobs were hunted down by Harlequin skimmers. Thousands of Orks lay dead upon the field – but their attack was not without cost. Many of the Craftworld Eldar troops whom they had initially caught unaware had fallen, each life lost more precious than a thousand dead Orks. Of Skulleater, the Warboss responsible, there was no sign.

The Eldar allies could do little else but take the period after the battle to lick their many wounds – and consider their next move.

“lord storm claw I have studied the maps, old maps and spoke with the Wotan elders and the dreadnought. It is worth a visit to the ruins on the main planet of crion” Vioarr had spent days planning the briefing and in study. “They are gathering a council, rallying crusade officers and preparing for a greater threat, small force I can spare only. Should war come I must answer” Lord Storm claw thought and agreed with his first assessment. “ Few packs at the most, few craft, that I can spare you. “Aye just a few, I shall bring back answers and scions of the 85th on planet and capable of help” “be careful of them Vioarr, they have a past and one some suspect is a dark one. I'd not call on there aid lightly.”

Vioarr surveyed the assembled force, all packs long trusted to him and well known veterans. Grey hunters of the dark wolves and the eager and blood thirsty blood claws of bragis brazen pacing as behind stood the veterans, long fangs of Thorin's thunder slayers, beards long and pale and bearing weapons with a ease only the centuries could bring. The various packs supplies were loaded onto the thunderhawk and troops boarded as Vioarr looked at the tower bearing the great banners and sigils of the company. Placing one gauntlet on his own sigil on the dark ancient armour he earned as wolf priest, each scar and mark a testament to its enduring strength.

From the tower jogged out a veteran wolf scout known as the ferrasian death. “Vioarr, lord wolf priest, permission to join your pack, your going places you need a good sniper” “granted, join the packs and load up”

As the sun rose over the walls gold light made the golden wolves on the red banners shine rose gold in the dawn's first light as the aircraft took off towards the space elevator then down to action, and onto the ruins of the dragon, searched on a island at a centre of a lake.

Sun glinting off the mighty warmachines, sigils reflecting gold, then slowly to gleaming like starlight as the waves below sparkled and glittered off the sea. A fine start to there mission and good Oman's and sagas for the feasting halls of the fang.

The space elevator was a massive marvel of technology as they descended to the planet below , the space so congested with warships as they dropped the many miles to the surface of the world, a green vista of endless Forrest for as far as eyes could see. The doors slowly opened onto the verdant green of the planet. A wild Forrested world covered mostly by the jungles and mighty hardwoods. Launching off the pads they saw the green, the sights and smells flooding the senses with new information.

The site seemed quiet from the historical records and scans showed no obvious signs of camps or enemies in the local area but prudence never hurt and the ferrasian death stalked the Forrest to scout for further intelligence and potentially vital clues. The area was thick with fog off the lake and even the enhanced senses of the wolf scout where where effected as he looked down the snipers scope at at the ruins in the far distance, shrouded by mist at the lakes very centre. The water was too smooth, the fog too thick and everything was unnaturally still, gripping the rifle tight as the wind, the wind never blew here.

Wolf base…

Lord Storm claw stepped aboard his personal thunderhawk the blood eagle after watching vioarr’s force depart for the ruins”let us depart floki, to whatever end this leads us” his mighty thunderolf panting beside him only loyal to the wolf lord fully, “let's hope the other mind there manners, if you fed skoll before we left” . Growling at mention of its name the thunderolf was a Alpha, only a greater alpha could chomand one, wild, untamed and highly intelligent hunters many had underestimated to there death.

To the ruins….

The scouts carefully walked into the ruins, it felt like the ghosts of the past still remained waiting to strike, the fog felt unnatural, the ruins, almost too inviting… “read softly I fear the embers are not entirely cold here” the lead scout voxed to the team as they slowly entered the ruined mass of stone and statues. All of a sudden a scout stepped between a arch and as a stone moved two weather beaten dragon statues ignited jaws alive with flame “feth” the only sound as the scout died in pain. All over defences came to life and turrets and statues of ainciant stone came to life. A rough Stone block became now a turret, rising from a once passive state to now deadly weapon. “ Incoming scout team, hold on. Get to cover now” as they took shelter behind a large fallen wall and pillar.

Booming explosions set off large hidden tanks of promethium and great jets of flame flew out cracks in stone work yet that only disabled some of the defences hidden in this place gunfire from turrets and hidden weaponry tried to counter but the skilled crews aboard the air wing soon where turning the tide against the auto defences. Behind the scouts position a roar of a engine marked the deployment of the vindicator krakens tooth obliterating a bunker in a single shot with its Goliath main demolisher cannon. Rounds and shells bouncing off the siege shields like rain on rock

Landing in behind was the wolf guard Fafnir ducking in behind the vindicator as gunfire still flew above, “timely arrival Fafnir, timely” vioarr remarked as he looked out as the final defences where dismounted. “Aye but a demolisher cannon fixes anything! “ Both laughing as the gunfire died down

Later exploration found the site clear and safe now the final guns where disabled and various ruined chambers and lastly a door, blackened and carved with a dragons scale and teeth in metallic relief. This site, the door they would find far more dangers below and if intact as the gates and turrets a far more interesting and deadly place than the derelict site henery.

---- Drake's Point, 85th HQ ----

Gallus reviewed the various reports from the teams he had sent in New Pavus, along with these reports, he had gathered data slates with basic information about the city itself.

'' It will take more than the men we have to clear out New Pavus, the corruption runs deep '' he opened '' Open support, Tillers running their things in plain light... we'll have a lot of people to capture and kill ''

Riley nodded '' I've discussed it with Mallia on the way back, we think the area that our men were sent to was probably the worst concentration of Tillers, after a quick recce, we could firebomb the area ''

Castella interjected '' Lets not go about destroying everything quite yet, we don't have the support of the governor in all this, the strike we did already stired a gakstorm and we should thank the Emperor it hasn't rained down on us ''

'' Its a good point, I'll schedule a meeting with the governor, its time we bring him to speed regarding what we're doing and gain his support in all of this ''

'' Sir we don't need that, our troops are more than capable of dealing with this filth, I think my assault has clearly proved that ''

'' Riley, for hell sake! We're talking about a million habitants! We don't have the manpower to search everything, we'll need the PDF, if only to control loyalist population while we hunt the traitors, otherwise the mob will overwhelm us, I know you're not fond of outsiders getting into our business, but I trust you're professionnal enough to see we need help ''

Riley shot a glance at Castella, but kept silent. Gallus facepalmed.

'' One day I'll trust you two are going to get along, in the meanwhile, I will need you two to look like soldiers for the governor ''


---- Governor Room, two days later ----

The Valkyrie ramp lowered itself, revealing the commanding element of the 85th. The guards saluted the officers and lead them to the Governor with little words. Pavus waved at the men as they entered the room, the Scions saluted back and the conversation started.

'' I heard you wish to impose martial law on one of my city to root out traitors, tell me, isn't that prerogative of the Inquisitors? ''

'' My lord, there are no reason to beleive that the Tillers are linked to Chaos in any way, they're mere traitors to your reign and nothing else, we merely want to help you take control of the situation, we have a report on the extent of the influence the Tillers have in New Pavus '' said Gallus

The governor sighted

'' I don't need the report, I am aware of the situation, I simply don't have the men to take care of that with more lethal threats around, but with your support, that might change, but tell me, what was that warehouse demolition business all about? ''

'' We failed to track Horatio Payne, one of our was captured, we rescued him '' answered Castella

'' Ah... yes, cut the head and whatnot... Don't bother with him, I have my own agents on it, it will be over quick. I will also send the men from the Blood Fort to support your troops, they're my own elite, they're also great interrogators and there's about five thousands of e'm, this should be enough to lock down New Pavus, my aides will coordinate the deployement with you, you're all dismissed ''

The Scions saluted the governor and left the palace, with a few of the governor aides in tow.

The sounds of chaos railed against IronGore’s ears as he climbed out of a trap door. He took a quick look at the surrounding battle, fashioning a rocket onto his tankhammer as his gaze fell onto one of the Kans.

“Wot’cha waitin’ fer, a polite invitation?” Ace said with annoyance as he cranked up the power to his massive gun.

IronGore smiled “An openin’. Mind makin’ one fer me?” He said, motioning to a gathering mob of Skull Eater’s boys pushing hard against the Iron Horde’s assault as they rallied around a Kan that had racked up an impressive death tally. Ace grinned wickedly as he leveled his gun, and IronGore started running towards the mob.

Ace pulled the trigger.

Bright green bursts of energy flew from the barrel, and struck those boys holding the line, ripping them apart in brilliant displays of blood. Those not locked in the melee tried to mount an offense, but the green bursts kept pouring into their ranks without relenting. Soon, IronGore was upon them, and he carved his was though two of the remaining orks before he reached he true target.

The Killa Kan turned to the noise, the angry squeaks of the grot inside were amplified though the hull as he turned to face his foe. IronGore rushed forwards, dodging the massive sharpened instruments of the Kan as he went, looking for an opening. With an annoyed squeak, the Kan made a massive lunge towards IronGore, the crude buzz saw ripped apart his toothed necklace as he barely sidestepped the attack and he snorted in triumph. Grabbing a hold of the Kan’s arm, IronGore pulled, and launched himself towards the Kan’s main body, bringing his tankhammer down. He hit his mark, the rocket striking the Kan’s visor, blasting a shower of shrapnel into the grot pilot’s body. With a long moaning creak, the Kan stopped, and slowly slumped to the ground, and a great cheer rose from the Iron Horde’s lines.

As IronGore stood atop his defeated foe, he called for the boys to attack, and soon that side of the battle was flushed with more boys, attacking Skull Eater’s forces with renewed vigor. IronGore scanned the combat, seeking new targets as he locked a new rocket onto his tankhammer.

“Take cova!” He heard a voice say, nearly drown out by the sudden sound of roaring engines. IronGore ducked down behind the Kan corpse and looked to the sky. Three planes, belching out pillars of flaming smoke from their engines, tore through the air. IronGore only had a moment before the jets fired their guns, sending massive bullets raining down. Iron and bone shattered as the death rain struck the melee. IronGore ducked down further, letting the Kan’s metal frame shield him from the strafing run.

“Ace! Take out tha’ flyers!” Hannibal’s voice sounded over the roar of engines as the trio of jets flew past.

IronGore saw Hannibal streak across the battlefield atop a bike. Several nobs were with him as well, riding on their own bikes, and rushing at breakneck speeds towards the combat as they blasted the Skull Eater orks with massive machine guns bolted to the frames. IronGore took the moment to rally the nearby survivors of the strafing run. They rushed forwards, clashing again with a great impact, and slowly but surely bunching the Skull Eater orks closer and closer together. IronGore made great sweeps with the axe end of his tankhammer, making the most of his time before the next staffing run.

The engines grew louder as the three jets turned and made their way back to the fight, but still, IronGore kept up his attack, hacking away, and praying to Mork that the bullets did not find their way to him.

An explosion shook the field, and the scrapes and clangs of metal striking metal sounded above IronGore’s head before another explosion rocked the ground. He barely had time to look up and see not one, but two jets, now reduced to blazing hulks, plummeting towards the massed brawl.

There was a brief moment of silence as both forces froze in the horror of realization before the brawl was forgotten, and they ran from their certain death.

The hulks struck the ground, skimming across, and carving a great burning and bloody swathe through both ork ranks. IronGore ran with the others, his hulking frame no match for an impact of that magnitude. He felt dust and dirt fly into his back as the hulks scraped closer.

He ran faster.

As the grating sound ground to a halt, IronGore stopped, and surveyed the damage. The two hulks were fused together at the wings, cutting the main plaza of Iron Skull Fortress in half, and bursting through the front wall. Skull Eater’s surviving forces where cut down the middle, one half trapped with the bulk of the Iron Horde, with the other half left to themselves, the ragged hole torn open in the wall providing them an escape route that they gladly took, running from the continuous fire from the remaining remote controlled machine guns. The surviving trapped orks surrendered, dropping their weapons one by one as the Iron Horde cheered.

Over the piles of the dead, they had won.

IronGore looked around the battlefield, his heart swelling with triumph before a sudden realization stopped him cold.

“Oi! Where’z tha’ boss at?”


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *


“Wot’cha waitin’ fer, a polite invitation?” Ace said with annoyance as he cranked up the power to his massive gun.

The sounds gunfire created a grand symphony to Ace’s ears, and he was itching for a chance to add to the music.

“An openin’. Mind makin’ one fer me?” IronGore replied with a smile, motioning to a pack of Skull Eater’s boys, and Kan that were successfully holding the line. Ace gave a wicked grin as he leveled his massive gun, and squeezed the trigger, sending brilliant green shots barreling towards the mass of bodies. They shimmered in the air for a moment before they impacted, blasting the boys apart in brilliant displays of red blood and green arcing energy. Ace gave a great, booming laugh himself as he pumped in more and more firepower, reducing the mob to a squabble as IronGore made his way to the Kan.

Turning his attention elsewhere, Ace went for the stairs, blasting apart each boy that was foolish enough to rush towards him. He called his boys up, shredding all who got in their way, and barked orders for them to man the rocket launchers. Soon the symphony of gunfire was joined with the uneven rhythm of rocket explosions as they focused fire at the kans, toppling them over when the odd shot hit, and crushing some of their own boys as they fell, and flailed in death throes.

It was then that he heard it, a steady sound that grew louder and louder. He looked to the skies, and saw three ramshackle jets billowing giant blooms of fiery smoke out of their engines, each bristling with massive machine guns.

“Take cova!” Ace shouted as the thunder of the engines turned into a roar that threatened to drown out the cacophony of combat. Ace crouched down as the flyers made their strafing run, adding to the symphony with a great crescendo of gunfire. The flyers carved bloody chunks out of the Iron Horde’s lines as they flew overhead.

“Ace! Take out tha’ flyers!” Ace heard Hannibal shout as soon as he rose back up.

“Already on it, boss!” He called back, ordering his boys to turn around and fire the rockets at the planes. The planes dodged and weaved through the rain of rockets. As they turned to make another strafing run, Ace pushed one of the boys out of the way, and aimed the rocket launcher himself. Taking his time, he squinted as he waited for the right moment.

He pulled the trigger, and the rocket screeched towards the plane. The pilot tried to pull out of the way, but it still struck true, hitting an engine pod, and causing a catastrophic explosion. The plane spun out of control, crashing straight into the second jet, and causing its fuel tanks to rupture and explode in turn. The heat and force fused the two hulks together, as they plummeted to the ground. The last jet flew high, pushing full speed as it fled the battle.

The two jets stuck the ground, sweeping across the battlefield and crushing any ork unlucky enough to be underneath them, only stopping when a wing struck a fortress wall, tearing a ragged hole through it. When the dust settled, half of Skull Eater’s army was retreating though the hole, while the other half surrendered. Ace joined in the victory cheers, firing his gun into the air as he celebrated.

The joy of victory ended as he heard IronGore’s voice over the crowd.

“Oi! Where’z tha’ boss at?”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

By the time Hannibal rode out into the battlefield, the combat was already well underway. Gort snorted impatiently as they waited, still under the cover of the fortress walls. His two claw arms twitched with impatience as he stood on the chariot-style platform welded onto his bike.

“Why ain’t we’z goin’ yet?” He said, stopping his foot in an unsteady rhythm.

“Wait.” Hannibal said in a tone that did not leave room for argument. “Listen.”

Soon the roar of three jet airplanes filled the air. They were masters of the sky, flying high above as they spat death. Many of the Iron Horde died in their first pass, and Hannibal knew he could not afford giving them another. Driving out into the open, Hannibal spotted Ace on the wall.

“Ace! Take out tha’ flyers!” He shouted before revving his bike. “Now we’z goin’ in.” He said with a grin, before firing up the bike and plummeting into the fray.

“Gun it, Speedy!” Gort shouted to his driver, one of the space orks that had surrendered during the battle for Skull Eater fortress. The company of nob bikers zoomed forward, blasting their guns full auto into skull eater’s boys before they smashed into the battle line. Gort leapt off of his bike on impact, using the force to vault himself over the first line of boys and plant his boots solidly on a nob’s chest, smashing him into the ground. Gort became a whirlwind of death, raking though the ranks of boys with both claws.

During this chaos, Hannibal drove through the mob, plowing through the boys unlucky enough to not move out of his way, and blazing full throttle towards a pair of thrashing kan. On seeing his approach, the nearest kan turned towards Hannibal, and thrust a giant drill forwards with surprising speed. Hannibal swerved out of the way, holding his claw out and ripping apart the leg of the kan as he swept by. The kan crashed to the ground, flailing with its single leg in a futile attempt to stand and fight, before it became swamped by warriors of the Iron Horde, climbing over the metal monstrosity and jamming their iron spears into the joints of the kan, slowly jamming and stalling it until a boy managed to shove his spear into the viewport, ending the grot’s live with a squeal.

As Hannibal swerved towards the second kan, it let loose four missiles in a single deadly volley towards the speeding mek. Two missiles went wide, the third was easily avoided, but the fourth found its mark. Hannibal threw himself from the bike, rolling on the bloodstained ground, as his bike erupted in a fiery explosion as the rocket’s explosive shrapnel ripped apart the fuel tank.

Rolling to his feet, Hannibal had enough time evaluate his foe before having to dodge out of the way of a razor-sharp claw. Hannibal rolled backwards as the claw embedded itself in the ground. Coming up in a crouch, Hannibal pulled the trigger twice. On the first pull, a single green orb shot out and struck the kan’s rocket launcher arm, making it send out sparks as the arm drooped and became unresponsive. On the second pull, a sharp crack sounded as lines green energy surged from the barrel, and struck Hannibal’s hand.

“Zog it!” Hannibal shouted as he dropped the pistol. The skin on his hand was blistered and blackened. He took a deep breath and gritted his teeth as the Kan ripped its claw from the ground, scattering dirt into the air. Hannibal saw a glint of iron from where the Kan’s claw had struck, and smiled knowingly through the pain.

“Iz’ ‘dat all ya’ got, ya’ git?” He shouted at the can beckoning it forwards with his claw. It answered, rushing forwards and swinging wildly with its claw as it closed the gap towards the taunting mek. Hannibal dove to the side, evading the body of the kan as it, pushed forwards by its own hulking momentum, continued to stagger forwards. Before it could come to a complete stop, the ground groaned before it gave way from under the kan, revealing a large pit trap, covered over by a sheet of iron and dirt.

Hannibal came over to the edge and looked down at the thrashing Kan, the trap had not been intended for the Kan, but it was good to know that it worked for a foe of that size.

“Take cova’!” Hannibal heard over the battle, he turned towards the voice and saw two of the three jets in flames and falling down to the ground.

They were falling straight towards him.

With only a few moments before impact, Hannibal looked to the pit again, and jumped into it.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“Boss! Boss!” Ace shouted as he searched the battlefield, tossing the dead aside. “Why ain’t you helpin’!” he shouted at Gort, who simply sat by, looking smug as the search continued.

“ ‘Cuz, he’s paste by now, Ace. Tha’ planes go ‘em.”

“An’ why you lookin’ so zoggin’ happy ‘bout it?”

“Who ya’ ‘fink fried my hands?” Gort snapped, with a snort.

“Oh yeah,” Ace snapped back. “Well who ya’ ‘fink swapped ‘em with tha’ killy claws?”

“You eva’ try ta’ eat with ‘em? It ain’t easy. I’ll tell ya’ that.”

“Well if ya don’ help findin’ tha’ boss, you’ll jus’ have ‘ta find out jus’ how hard it iz ta’ eat without any teef!”

Gort grumbled to himself as he moved, slowly picking though bodies with a half-hearted effort.

“Found ‘em!” Came Guts’ voice from across the wrecked plaza. Ace along with a group of the Iron Horde boys rushed to Guts’ side, as they pulled a large piece of scrap off of the ground, opening up the pit to the air. Ace peeked down, barely able to see with the setting sun.

Hannibal was at the bottom, sitting squarely on the Kan, which now sported a ripped apart crew compartment. Rope was thrown down to him, and in a few moments, Hannibal was raised to the surface. There, the crowed fell quiet as they looked upon him.

His arm was torn off.

A belt had been tied tightly around the stump, lessening the blood loss, but Hannibal’s skin was beginning to pale. He took a few unsteady breaths as he looked to the crowd before turning to Ace.

“Get my tools.”

[Jorgan, Crion]

The 5 lictors crept through the jungle, led by the Leaping Terror. They were spread out, searching for any sign of Kort Bloodspitta and his boyz. They had been searching for hours, combing every inch of the jungle surrounding their old encampment. So far, all was quiet.
Find the Prey
Slowly, the sounds of yelling and construction could be heard in the background. The lictors isolated the noise to the north and surrounded it. As the clearing came into view, the noise grew louder. The remaining orks under Kort were trying to make wooden walls to repel the swarm. If you could call them walls. Entire segments of it were waving in the wind. They could collapse at any moment! With this knowledge, the brood was almost ready. One more thing needed to be complete.

[Pike-ard, Crion]

Die
The brood complied. A pack of hormagaunts and termagaunts leapt into the reclamation pools. Biomass was needed to make a new bio-form. One that would destroy all walls in its path. One that would repel gunfire as if it were nothing. The Norn-Queen shuddered as she generated the massive form out of the deceased ‘gaunts. It easily towered over her as it grew and grew. As the giant carnifex broke out of its egg, it let loose a roar that shook the entire space hulk fragment. Now, it was time to go to war.

[Jorgan, Crion]

The ground shuddered as the carnifex stomped across the foliage. The swarm was making good pace, and the orks would be consumed before nightfall. They had almost made it to the “fortress.”
Kill Them All
Skullbasha’ was on watch duty. He wanted ta go bash in some of da bug’s skulls, but instead, he had ta watch da wall! It wasn’t even a good one! As he walked around, he ran into Madrippa.

“Oi ya Git! Get Ova ‘ere!” He said.

Madrippa walked over to Skullbasha’.

“Ey, I can’t wait ta bash in some ‘eads,” Skullbasha’ said.

“I wish we’z could do et now!” Madrippa replied.

“Why can’t no one try an’ krump us!” Skullbasha’ shouted.

At that moment, the ground of the fortress began to tremble.

“Oi, whatz goin’ on?” Madrippa asked.

That is when the mass of chitin descended upon the orks. The carnifex barreled right into the wall and it crumpled beneath its massive weight. Orks were crushed beneath its feet. Big choppas bounced off of a million pounds of armor. The carnifex could probably take on the place by itself!
Swarm. Overwhelm. Obliterate.
The swarm’s assault was ruthless. The orks charged to meet them and were chopped to bits. Hormagaunts leapt in and eviscerated any nearby orks. Termagaunts unleashed fleshborer beatles upon whole groups, who went down writhing and convulsing. Warriors hacked nobs to pieces or unleashed lethal volleys of ranged weaponry. It was completely one sided. A few orks were in the center, trying their hardest to take a few ‘gaunts with them. They were led by Kort. That would be ended.
Threat Sighted. Reinforce. Eliminate.
The Great One charged in to face the enemy. It swatted one ork into the waiting mass of eager tyranids with a talon while firing a horde of lethal shards into a nob picking its big choppa up from the body of a termagaunt. Kort turned around from killing a warrior to see 2 tons of pure muscle and armor.

“You’z a big bug, I’ll give ya dat!” Kort shouted.

The Great One sent its scything talons from above in the hope of finishing this quickly. It seemed that would not be the case. As it sent the spikes of death downwards, Kort leapt aside much faster than anticipated and swiped at The Great One. It was prepared for this, and deflected with the venom cannon. The Great One went for another swing, but could not seem to hit him. This time though, Kort hit The Great One with his big choppa. The Great One was stunned for a second. Its armor had a dent in it! How dare such a primitive and insignificant creature harm such a noble bio-form in such a way!
Exterminate.
The fair battle that had been going on between Kort and The Great One was over. The few orks and nobs remaining were torn apart and trampled as the mass went feral in the sole goal of getting to Kort as fast as possible. One large nob feebly attempted to throw off the three hormagaunts clinging to him before he was brought low and devoured. Kort was only able to turn around and fend off a few blows before he was engulfed within the swarm. No one touches The Great One and gets away with it. Only one has lived to tell the tale so far.

As the last lines of resistance disintegrated, the brood sent in its rippers to finish with this place. All biomass was collected from the battle, including the walls as the carnifex had been chewing on them after its job had been complete.
Return. Bring The Biomass. Create New Bio-forms.
The forces did as they were told.

[Pike-ard, Crion]

All the biomass was reclaimed, all the bio-forms shiny and new. The carnifex patrolled with the second one created, and the forces used to make the first were remade. The hive was strong. The hive was ready for the next kill. The hive would destroy. The hive would consume.

Long Live The Hive

Jeramin wiped the sweat off of his brow yet another time, and drove his shovel into the ground, letting it stick into the air while he caught his breath. The boy, who was no more than in his early twenties, looked up when he heard the distant roar of an engine. It wasn't unusual for some of the ranchers to travel to Canhock for supplies, or to sell whatever produce they had left from the planetary tithes. But this, Jeramin decided, did not sound like any of the vehicles the ranchers had. Nor did it sound like any of the the troops' vehicles when they came out to deal with the monsters of the West if they got too out of hand.

Any last sense of doubt that these were not regular traders or soldiers was cast from Jeramin's mind as he heard the rattle of gunfire and the screams of his neighbors. Jeramin felt himself running towards the gunfire, and his worst fears were shown before his eyes. Dozens of the greenskinned monsters were spilling out of their crude vehicles, burning buildings and mowing down the citizens of Canhock, Jeramin's neighbors, with a savage glee. Seeing his friends, people he had known his entire life, torn to shreds in front of him by the greenskins' guns , or ran over by the roaring mob of trukks, Jeramin felt himself keel over and empty out the contents of his stomach onto the road.

Staggering back, Jeramin ducked behind a building, and was hard pressed to not curl up and hope that the beasts would just go away. "This can't be happening." He whispered. Jeramin shakily got to his feet, and tried to ignore the sounds of the orks ruining his home. The farmer knew he had to get home, that maybe he could use his dad's rifle and escape. There wasn't a hive city too far away, he reasoned, and they could send help. Then, there was the holy astartes, the Emperor's own sons, surely they would save him from this nightmare.

"They wouldn't let Canhock fall. Why would they?" He whimpered, and started to head to his house. More often than not, Jeramin would find himself hiding from the orks, but slowly made his way towards his home, which was still untouched by the xenos' war machines.

Thinking it was a sign of the Emperor, Jeramin sprinted to his home, and bolted the door shut behind him as he entered it. Catching his breath, the young farmer flew through his house and flung open a side closet, and drew the rifle inside. Well worn, and used for putting Grox down rather than fighting, it wasn't much to work with, but Jeramin was determined to make it work. Even with his new source of hope, the man had to cover his mouth to stifle his shout of fear when he heard his door crash inwards. Jeramin felt a cold sense of certainty wash over him, and he took a single step towards the sound, but stood still when the heard the sound of metal boots crunching against his wooden floors.

"Come out, little humie. I know youz in here." A low voice growled, and Jeramin barely understood it, yet was even more terrified that he could at all. Jeramin gave a shout of fear when a sudden volley of gunfire tore through his home, shattering windows and sending fragments of his walls and furniture everywhere. Seeing his home in tatters, a building he had known all his life, Jeramin's dread turned into disbelief, and from there it turned into a cold hatred. Before he even realized it, Jeramin was moving forwards, and fired his rifle as soon as he turned the corner.

Even as the rifle bucked in his hands, Jeramin saw that he had thrown his life away. The monster was easily twice as tall as he was, and had only boomed out laughter when Jeramin shot him. Before he could react, the ork sent him backwards with a swipe from his hand. Jeramin's head cracked against the floor, and his vision was reduced to a blur. A groan escaped his lips, and he sluggishly raised his hands to his head, dropping the rifle in the process.

"An' I thought we waz havin' fun" the beast growled, and Jeramin felt a clawed hand wrap around his ankle. The farmer felt himself getting dragged across the floor, and all turned black.

Gorgrim flashed his tusks in a grin as he looked at the ruins of Canhock. Any survivors were being rounded up and shoved into the trukks, and the same went for anything that could pass as loot. All in all, the warboss knew he would be able to make anything short of a stompa out of it. "Maybe some warkoptas," he mused, "or a couple more deff dreads."

Gorgrim's contemplating was cut off when Gorehound approached, his face coated in blood, the only remains of the humans he had caught. "Boss, we saw a beakie. Big an' grey, he rode a bike away. We tried shootin' at him, but he was long gone." Gorehound looked at Gorgrim, trying to see any signs of a reaction from the boss. To his surprise, Gorgrim laughed.

"Dat means we'll be gettin' some neighbors, an' beakies ta boot. Now, round up da rest of da gear, an' grab more humiez. I'm gonna need more of 'em to help wif all dis loot." Gorgrim laughed again, and made his way back to his caravan of trukks.

++Two days after the razing of Canhock++

Gorgrim sat on top of a pile of metal, watching boyz and grots move with undeniable purpose. Vehicles were being repaired, new ones built, and red paint was slapped on every single one. So far, the only sign of Imperial retaliation was the whining of engines in the distance, signaling the arrival of a large force landing on Luna Maximus. "Probably more humiez" Gorgrim muttered, "Da Beakies woulda landed here, or been more sneekee."

The warboss shrugged his shoulders, and looked back down at his greenskins at work. Grizby appeared from underneath a pile of scrap, grinning wickedly at a chunk of sharpened metal in his hands. "Boss," he whispered, "some Mek wants ta talk to ya. He gave me dis," as the grot spoke he fished out a paper with various designs on it, "It's a tellyporta. Build it, step on da green ringy part, and zzzap! You'ze in his base."

Gorgrim smiled, and grabbed the paper from Grizby's hands. "Maybe dis git will be worth my time den. He seems cunnin', if he can make somefink like dis." Gorgrim hopped off of his mound of loot, and made his way to his Meks' huts. Whatever schemes they were doing would have to wait; Gorgrim had something much more important for them to do.

Tobias Paynne.

We demand answer. Give us a solid verdict on your stance with Sunstrike Cadre, and we will cease to contact you. Your choices are as thus: Ally with us, and allow us protection as we absolve our cause. Leave us to our own devices until we leave, and we shall not encroach upon your land or interfere with your plans. Or go to war, and invite destruction on you and your forces.

Failure to respond within twelve Rot'aa will be met as an act of complacency and hostility. You have been warned, Lord Governor. Respond to us, with the seal of your verification, or we will destroy your throne of silence. We do not desire conflict, but we need to know where we stand.

Shas'O Tash'var Kor'Kauyon Mont'yr Kais Or'es Doran Gal'leath (Commander Skyhunter) – transcribed from T'au by Gue'vesa'El Vandred

Governor Payne snarled at the letter. This filthy xeno thought himself master of Crion laughable. Those Tau were cut off from the rest of their empire they would be destroyed should the full forces of Crion come to bare upon them. They were but gnats in the governor’s mind, however he had not a free hand to swat them. A new front would be too costly and time consuming for the governor, his best option was still to pretend they did not exist. However, the Tau made it rather clear they would not be ignored. It was at this point the governor’s solution came through the door.

Tal’ok entered the governor’s office removing the hood he wore that disguised his Avian features. The Kroot approached the governor’s desk and picked up one of the bauble’s he had placed upon it. The kroot spoke “You have another Tiller you need dead?” Payne arose and spoke “No, not this time I require your council.” Tal’ok laughed “I should warn you my consultation fee is outrageous, don’t you have generals and ministers for this sort of thing.” Payne shook his head “No, I require you… Tell me as a Kroot you must be familiar with the Tau.” Tal’ok set down the trinket and spoke “I never served under the Tau, but I’ve taken dozens of contracts on the frontier of the empire. Why do you ask.” Payne removed the letter from his safe and showed him the second letter.

Tal’ok read the letters carefully. Tal’ok had a questioning look on his face. Payne opened his mouth to speak but Tal’ok raised his hand at him. The bounty hunter gripped his knife and hurled it at the corner of the room. It struck something and the machinery fell to the carpeted floor. Payne’s eyes widened as he asked “What in the Emperor’s name is that.” Tal’ok fetched his knife and idled through the wreckage “Tau listening device, standard stealth cadre procedure when dealing with a possibly hostile government.” Payne slumped back in his seat and rubed his temples the man looked over to Tal’ok and spoke “You clearly know the Tau better than I, how should I proceed. I can’t publically declare them my allies nor can I afford a new front.” Tal’ok spoke “They don’t need an alliance they want lodging. Let them stay so long as they promise to move on as soon as possible and not to advertise their presence.” Payne asked “You think they would agree to that?” Tal’ok nodded “The Tau are fond of their alliances and are unlikely to break them. With some careful negotiations we can keep the Tau off your back and hopefully out of sight. I think I should be the one to approach the Tau with the terms of the deal” Payne raised an eyebrow “You? Take no offense but I never took you for a negotiator.” Tal’ok grinned “I’m a great many things governor… for the right price. The Tau would appreciate a familiar face.” Payne folded his hands “If you can keep the Tau out of my crusade I will see you rewarded hansomly.” Tal’ok turned to leave the room and place his hood over his head "Consider it done"

Steam rushed out the door as Faolan emerged from the wash room, his hair had been washed and combed with his beard getting a similar treatment and both were now drying, they would be braided later. It was not often that Faolan got all cleaned up but since Faolan had called the Central Crusade Command Meeting he thought he would put some effort in to be presentable. He strided towards his chambers in the adjacent room where a freshly pressed silk robe was laid out on his bed. Faolan examined the robe before putting it on, two snarling hounds on their hind legs decorated the shoulders while the chapter symbol was embroidered on the chest over his heart, simple yet elegant. Putting the robe on Faolan headed outside to run a final sweep over the guests accommodation and the meeting hall itself. As the doors to his office slid open Faolan witnessed a savage battle in the sky, a thick groggy mist had captured the Isles of Pratt and the sun’s rays desperately tried to pierce the thick veil that now surrounded Canis Caelum. Faolan took a moment to take it all in, listening to the chirping of the native birds to this moon, peaceful thought Faolan, and considering what happened at the Banquet it better stay that way. Scanners had been set up and Faolan had doubled the patrols around the isle. Thunderhawks were prepped, ready to sink any unauthorised craft approaching the isle.It was early and while the Emperor’s Hounds keep constant vigilance Canis Caelum was quieter than usual.

Faolan entered the recently converted barracks which was now a big hall, a polished oak table sat in the center with a fine silk cloth thrown over, much like the stuff that Faolan’s robe was made from. oak chairs were placed around the table along with cutlery for when the food is served. Four big fireplaces dotted the room but have not been lit yet as the weather outside was quite warm. Faolan gave the room one last look over before heading for the door, as he was about to emerge from the hall the doors slid open to Emyr Glaw blocking Faolan’s path.

“Ah Emyr just the marine I was looking for”
“Sir, how is the hall looking ?”
“It is great, well for our taste anyway I cannot speak for our brothers in arms. Enough of that, Emyr I grant you the task of escorting our esteemed guests to their quarters until the meeting commences, deploy to the landing pads at once and welcome our first guest with a smile”
“It will be done Alpha”

Satisfied Faolan made his way back to his quarters to braid his mane and to apply any finishing touches needed to make him look presentable. As Faolan sidestepped a previous hole now filled with filthy rainwater Rhodri emerged from the adjacent kennels, dataslate in hand, grinning from ear to ear.

“Faolan Gall just the man I wanted to bump into”
“Yes Rhodri was is it ?” Replied Faolan coldy
“I will not keep you long, I know you are a very busy bee meeting all your friends just thought I would let you know about our latest addition to the kennels, Keon, a mere pup but he is already stronger than most of the dogs in there” praised Rhodri as he point back into the Kennels.
“Keon eh ? Means young warrior in our native tongue how ………… fitting”
“Pretty clever is it not ? Picked it myself”
“As long as you do not get too clever” growled Faolan “I will see this pup myself at a later time, farewell Houndmaster”
“Farewell my Alpha”

Taking a mental note to visit the kennels when he got the chance Faolan navigated his way around the minefield of puddles that barred his path to his chambers. Upon reaching the door to his quarters Faolan called over a serf, “Put something down to cover the mud and do it quickly, our guests will arrive soon” with the order given Faolan went to finish braiding his hair and beard and to prepare himself for the politics to come.

Emyr shifted uncomfortably next to the stairs that led up to the landing pad, along with Emyr a host of serfs and servitors awaited the host of aircrafts that would be landing at Canis Caelum. While awaiting the first delegate Emyr decided to dwell on his current situation,he was trying to figure out why in the name of the Emperor did Faolan charge him with this task. Emyr was the least talkative out of all his squadmates in Honour Guard Madra, he did not fancy the idea of socialising and found it awkward. “Why didn’t he pick Pryce for this bloody job ?” Emyr wondered to himself “He is the one who loves talking, he never shuts up.” The black dot that was quickly approaching along with the commotion caused by the host of servitors and serfs as they began to run around and make final checks to make sure the landing pad was configured correctly and that everything ran smoothly. All of this knocked Emyr out of his deep thinking and made him shift again, making sure he was presentable and checking the dataslate to view the list of names and or forces that would be attending.

Looking up the black dot that was there a moment ago was now a mighty teal thunderhawk gunship trimmed with golden skulls and imperial iconography. Quickly scrolling through his dataslate Emyr identified the craft belonging to the Dorn’s Wish chapter of Space Marines. Three marines emerged from the craft, one marine wore black plate and was flanked by two other marines. He was slightly taller than his brothers and was clearly the leader out of the trio. He donned a skull shaped helm which unnerved even Emyr slightly, a teal oval trimmed with gold with a skull and winged insignia, his chapter’s sigil. The trio approached Emyr, “Chaplain Iodius I presume ?” “Indeed, with whom am I speaking to ?” “Apologies Emyr Glaw part of Honour Guard Madra, if you will follow me to your room that we have allocated for you” “Very well”. “A man of few words” thought Emyr, “suits me just fine”. The walk to the guest rooms was taken in silence with both marines being men of few words. Emyr opened the door to a logged cabin which opened into a corridor with a fireplace at the opposite end with doors for the various guests to the left and right that ran along down the corridor, a sigil was carved into the doors indicating which room belonged to whom, Emyr proceeded to the third door on the right where an oval with a skull and winged insignia was carved “Your room is here, a serf will be sent when the Meeting will begin farewell brother” “Farewell Emyr Glaw and thank you for the escort” nodding Emyr left Iodius and made his way back to the landing pad to greet his next guest.

Emyr arrived just in time to see a thunderhawk land, Emyr needn’t look at the dataslate to know that it was in the fashion of the Space Wolves. Two large figures strode out of the aircraft which Emyr identified as Ulfric Stormclaw with some facial scars and his thick, heavy dark beard which had some grey streaks in it. The old wolf also donned a relic wolf claw on one arm and had long fangs befitting a Space Wolf of his age. The slightly shorter marine, Floki, also had a dark beard yet it was shorter than than his commanders and tribal fenrisian tattoos could be seen beneath said beard. His fangs were long but not as long as ulfric’s and he armed himself with two wolf claws. As the two marines made their way down the street ramp towards Emyr two slender figures emerged behind them, Emyr couldn’t seem to take his eyes off the pair as they elegantly strided down the ramp behind the astartes. Emyr quickly studied the dataslate to figure out they were from House Valorn, a knight house. High Queen Moira was draped in the colours of her house in a loose, silk dress with her house’s sigil embroidered on her chest, she was unarmed. Her Queensward and sister, Amanda was armed with a broadsword hung across her back with ornate copper armor in which her house symbol was engraved. “Lord Stormclaw, Loki, Amanda and High Queen Moira welcome to Canis Caelum, my name is Emyr Glaw and I will be the one showing you to your rooms” Emyr managed to crack a smile “ I think i’m getting the hang of this” “Greetings Emyr !” boomed Ulfric “Is there any ale in said rooms ?” “That can be arranged my lord” Ulfric cracked a smile “Hah ! I like you already” just as they were about to depart a massive black thunderwolf prowled out of the thunderhawk. Emyr while used to the hounds in his own chapter was still slightly unnerved by the sheer size of the beast. “Will you be bringing your wolf with you into the room ?” “His name is Skol and Sure wouldn't want to frighten your little dogs in the kennels now would we ?” teased Floki “Right then, this way” as they made their way to the guest room Ulfric Stormclaw begged a question “So then I have to ask” Emyr felt like he already knew the question before it was asked “What is it ?” “Where is your beard ? I mean you are the only one who doesn't’ have one” “A common question, my beard is patchy and not to mention itchy” Emyr shrugged “I prefer to be clean shaven” “Good choice” flirted Amanda which got her a glare off High Queen Moira. Looking to escape the awaiting awkward silence Emyr quickly shuffled into the logged cabin and proceeded to the sixth room on the right, which had a wolf engraved on it “Space Wolves are in here while House Valorn are across the hallway” “Do not forget the ale brother” Emyr nodding departed the cabin but not before getting a glance off Amanda which made him blush. “I’ll have to keep my eye on that one” noted Emyr as he once again made his way back to the Landing zone.

When Emyr returned no new delegates had arrived which gave Emyr a time to think about the whole Amanda situation. Did she fancy him ? Could this possible relationship ever flourish ? Emyr shook such foolish thoughts from his mind. No, of course it couldn't. Another black dot was approaching Canis Caelum, Emyr readied his trusty dataslate eager to identify the craft. He frowned when he identified it as a valkyrie aircraft. It was not the Tempestus Scions than who is it ? Quickly scrolling through the list of names and sigils Emyr found them at the bottom of the list in the updated section, the 2nd Helsreach “Gorgons”, an Imperial Guard Regiment that had recently arrived to the sector. Five figures disembarked from the craft with one seemly leading the others which Emyr presumed to be Lord General Henri McFallus, he had a biotic eye and a majestic moustache, a power sabre hung from his belt and had a wrist mounted bolt gun, MacFallus and his comrades were all donned in black “Lord General McFallus I presume ?” “Aye and who might you be ?” Emyr realised McFallus’ accent was not so different from the native Aspen tongue “Emyr Glaw part of Faolan’s Gall Honour guard I will be the one escorting you to your temporary chambers until the meeting starts” “Very well, follow me men” commanded the Lord General as he gestured with his power sabre in Emyr’s direction. As they walked to the logged cabin where several of the delegates were already waiting Lord General McFallus began to question the beardless marine “So Emyr care to update me on recent events ? I would like to know what me and my boys have stepped into” “I’ll tell you what I can, I presume you heard the distress signal that the Planetary Governor sent out yes ? Well a number of Space Marine chapters answered the call along with a knight house, Tobias Payne called a banquet in his own home in order to discuss strategy and tactics which was attacked by a mysterious ork called the “Big Boss” the attack was repelled and everyone parted ways. During the meeting itself Payne laid out a number of objectives, the separatist movement known as the Tillers are plaguing Crion led by Horatio Payne who claims to be related to Tobias whom disputes this, The various feral ork tribes have been growing bolder and needed to be eradicated and he has lost contact with a hive on Luna Epsilon, we fear chaos influence in that regard. We stand here now to again discuss our progress and strategy, and here we are your room is the second last one on the right,you will find other delegates here and I will make sure a dataslate with all the imperial forces stationed in the sector are sent on to you so you know who is who” “Thanks a lot Emyr, seems we have stepped into a right shitestorm here, see you soon” “Indeed we will, a serf will be sent when the meeting takes place” saying their farewells Emyr raced back to the landing zone as another thunderhawk was spotted approaching Canis Caelum.

Two marines were already waiting at the end of the ramp when Emyr arrived. Looking at the insignia they wore they were obviously from the Charcarodons Astra. The two marines stood in silence. Taranis wore black robes which had intricate designs embroidered on them which interlocked and spiral into each other seamlessly. His hair was while and his eyes black, like all of his brethren his teeth were razor sharp. Exitar his companion was clad in Tactical Dreadnought Armor and towered above everyone as a result. “Greetings brothers sorry for the delay my name is Emyr Glaw and I will be showing you to your rooms” again the marines stood in silence until a voice entered Emyr’s mind “Lead the way, brother” taken aback Emyr stood for a second wondering what happened until he read the dataslate about Tanaris and his tongue, moving on he brought them to their chambers in silence. “Third door on the right” eager to get away from the intimidating astartes. Two aircrafts had arrived when Emyr had come back to the landing pad. Castella of the 85th Tempestus Scions and the librarian Nu-Alhuraq from the Arbiters of Truth stood awaiting the at the end of the ramp having some small talk with each other. Castella was clad in full carapace armor and wore her rep mask. A power sword hung from her hip and a hellgun was griped in her hands. Nu-Alhuraq stood out to Emyr as a librarian straight away with his deep blue armor and force stave which had a burning brazier on the head of it, his skin was tanned like the rest of his brothers and his hair was styled into dreadlocks.“The 85th have been locking down New Pavus, I will make a full report at the meeting” Nu-Alhuraq nodded his head “You are not the only one who has something to report to Central Imperial Command my broth-” “Glorious defenders of the Imperium, Greetings my name is Emyr Glaw and I will escort you to your chambers” Castella and Nu-Alhuraq exchanged one last look before departing with Emyr. “Oh and my Alpha Brother Faolan Gall requests that any talk of our progress would be confined to the meeting room itself” Castella frowned “Is Canis Caelum not secure ?” “Just a precaution my lady” Emyr noticed the look of disgust that Castella made at his last comment and decided to walk more swiftly to the cabin. “Arbiters of Truth are on the second door to the left and the 85th Scions are the first door on the right” Emyr glanced to his right spotting the skull that had been carved into the door with a eye patch over its right eye. With the two newest delegates in their chambers Emyr hoped the last few would arrive soon as he had grown bored of all this meet and greet nonsense.


A Valkyrie aircraft zoomed into Canis Caelum, from it emerged Colonel Taylor and 10 guardsmen. Their armor was a deep crimson and their uniforms underneath was as black as the night sky. The Colonel stepped forward and introduced himself “Names Colonel Taylor,” Emyr rocked his brain as to who these guys are “Must be a new arrive to the crusade” decided Emyr “Greetings Colonel, I am Emyr Glaw welcome to Canis Caelum, this way to you rooms” nodding the Colonel followed, his men in tow. Upon reaching the cabin he looked for the correct sigil, an Imperial eagle, “Sixth room on the left” declared Emyr “A serf will be dispatched to inform you when the meeting will begin” “ Thanks friend”

As Emyr approached the landing pad once more it was unmistakable as to whom had arrived.
There was only one man that was so round that had been sent an invitation to the meeting, Tobias Payne himself, behind him stood a cloaked figure casted in shadow. Payne as usual was draped in the finest silks money could buy along with freshly polished buttons and various Imperial insignia, he even hung a power sabre from his belt. “Greetings Planetary Governor Payne How do you do ?” Tobias Payne strolled down the ramp taking a puff off his ito stick and blowing the smoke out of the corner of his mouth “Where is your commander ? And who are you ? I expected Faolan Gall to welcome me to his home like I did when he came to mine” “Faolan sends his regards but he is busy at the moment, my own name is Emyr Glaw and I will show you to your room” letting out another puff of smoke Tobias Payne nodded “Very Well, I will bring up my disappointment with Faolan at the meeting” Emyr shot another glance at the shadowy figure before walking towards the cabin. Opening the door to the cabin Emyr noticed some of the guests talking with one another, Castella and Lord General McFallus were conversing by the fireplace while Nu-Alhuraq was standing next to Tanaris and must be communicating via their Physic powers. Roars and laughter emeged from the Space Wolves room which indicated to Emyr that the ale had found it’s way to their door. “What is this ?” “Your room is the first one on the left” “I expected something more private and luxurious” “Space is limited here, i’m sure Faolan would love to hear any complaints that you have, Good Day Governor” not waiting for a reply and smirking at the idea of Faolan getting an earful off Tobias Payne, Emyr left the Planetary Governor with his Shadowy friend.

There was only one delegate left, which pleased Emyr to no end. The few hours of mindlessly walking back and forth across the courtyard would soon be at an end. A jet black ship swooped into Canis Caelum silent as the grave. A lone figure marched out of the aircraft bearing a holo projector and a note. The figure was a stormtrooper clad in his usual carapace armor and helmet which was masked. Handing it to Emyr the note read as follows “Greetings friends, unfortunately due to recent events I am unable to leave my current position for the meeting, as such this soldier bears a holo projector from which I will take part, Kind Regards, Inquisitor Randell” satisfied Emyr beckoned for a pair of serfs to come over “One of you needs to inform the Delegation that the meeting is about to begin. Send a similar message to Faolan Gall” the two serfs scampered off delivering their messages. Emyr left out a sigh, “Right then follow me, I will lead you the the great hall”. So the meeting begins.

Rashn did not move a muscle, he had not done so for hours. From his vantage point in a great old oak tree he could see much of the human’s fortress. When Farseer Lilianna learned of the human’s meeting she sent him and his kin to infiltrate and report back on what transpired. Infiltrating the isle was child's play, sneaking past their patrols and outmanoeuvring the sensors that were placed faced Rashn and his rangers with no challenge. Rashn placed his rangers throughout the complex, reporting back to him with the human’s movements, everything appeared normal, everything was going according to plan. While the defenses proved no challenge placing the listening device in the meeting room was a little bit more difficult, while Rashn was placing them a serf barged in to make some last minute arrangements to the room, luckily Rashn hid behind one of the great twin Mahogany doors and let the man finish setting the table, after the man had left Rashn continued placing the bugs. Now all Rashn and his rangers had to do was wait for the meeting to end so he could collect the devices and be in his way, in and out and they didnt even know I was there grinned Rashn as he admired the view from his hiding spot nestled admist the leaves.

Faolan sat in his chair at the head of the table, he looked as presentable as he ever will be and the food for the feast was prepared, it was time. The last few delegates shuffled in and took their seats. Going in a clockwise motion from Faolan’s left sat Librarian Nu-Alhuraq, Colonel Taylor, Chaplain Iodius, Planetary Governor Tobias Payne with his shadowy friend standing behind him, Tanaris with Exitar standing behind his chair due to his terminator armor, Castella, Lord General McFallus, the stormtrooper from the inquisition, High Queen Moira with her sister and Queensward Amanda standing behind her followed by Lord Ulfric Stormclaw and his bodyguard Floki. After everyone had been settled Faolan stood, “Greetings friends to Canis Caelum, firstly so we are all accounted for please bring Inquisitor Randell in” the stormtrooper produced a holo emitter which he placed on the table in front of him. Inquisitor Randell beamed onto the table where faint echoes of gunfire and men shouting orders to each other could be heard. “Greetings, apologies for the holo emitter but I could not afford to just up and leave Hive Crogger” “Very well Inquisitor, the holo emitter will suffice” ensured Faolan as he proceeded “just to let you know our scouts caught a mighty boar yesterday that will serve as the meal for tonight, I hope you all like pork” grinned Faolan continuing “ To get the ball rolling the last time we met like this a number of threats were brought to our attention, The feral ork tribes, the separatist movement known as the Tillers and the foul incursion of Chaos on Luna Epsilon, does anyone have anything to report ?” High Queen Moira spoke first “Armsmen from my house have slain a particularly foul ork by the name of Kernal Bloodkill” Payne nodded “He plagued the Namrex dunes in my great grandfather's time, a worthy kill my lady” “Gorehound Da Cook has been killed by my second in command Cearul Adair, collapsed a cliff on him” stated Faolan “What about the Chaos incursion ?” Inquired Hu-Alhuraq “Well as you can see I am on the front lines as we speak, they are crudely armed cultists for the most part and have completely taken over Hive Cogger but we quickly began pushing them back with our penal legions and heavy armor. The crafty bastards shut down the lifts reducing our usage of our heavy armor but we have since got them back online, dare I say we have got these curs on the run. That does not mean I do not require support, while hunting ferals is great and all Chaos is the greatest threat ever to plague the Imperium and must be stomped out, any help you can spare would be gracious received” reported Inquisitor Randall “Agreed, Chaos cannot be allowed to fester and corrupt” pitched in Lord General McFallus. “How about the Tillers, any progress made to stomp them out ?” Lord Ulfric Stormclaw inquired . Castella spoke “The 85th have discovered that the city of New Pavus is a sanctuary for the separatist scum, we have recently been granted permission from Tobias Payne to put the city under martial law and with the help of the best the PDF has to offer will have begun to cleanse the city” “Very good” nodded Payne “I have made a bit of progress of my own, but first I have to introduce my associate here” “Yes, you do” muttered Iodius Payne took a nervous gulp and continued “I have hired some mercenaries to qhunt down a key member of the tillers,Francais Beacon. The decayed head rolled onto the table towards High Queen Moira who recoiled from the pungent odour it secreted. “Your mercenaries are a bit barbaric no ?” Stated Colonel Taylor “Agreed, show your face !” Demanded Faolan the tall lean figure stepped out of the shadows and removed it’s dark cloak to reveal it’s grey leathery skin, it’s white milky eyes and it had a cream robe on his back that came round and fastened on its stomach which was adorned with bones, a kroot. All the Astartes stood at once,Faolan grabbed Fangbearer which was laying beside him at the table, Cearul rushed to hold him back while Iodius towered over the xenos with his fists clenched. “My lords ! This kroot has aided me so far and will continue to do so, I assure you !” Pleaded Payne as he attempted to ease the situation, “Perhaps you are unaware of my history with kroot, Governor Payne but these animals feasted on Jakarn, my own hound ! Now you dare bring one of those monsters into my base ?” “Apologies my lord I was not aware-” “What made you think it would be wise to bring a filthy xenos to this meeting anyway ?” Asked Floki cutting Payne off. Tobias Payne was sweating profusely not expecting such resistance to Ta’lok, Cearul stepped forward “Ok everyone take a brief break and meet back here in one hour” the delegates left the room bar Cearul and Faolan who still held his Fangbearer in his tightened grasp. “That was unexpected” stated Cearul “No gak” “Come let us go for a walk and blow off some steam” the two marines left the room in search of favourable company.

Lord Ulfric Stormclaw and Floki awaited Faolan as he stepped outside, “Ah Faolan Gall, How are you feeling ?” “Sorrowful, that kroot brought a lot of bad memories back which I would have preferred to remain forgotten” “Cheer up friend, say how about we check out the kennels even brought one of my own to see how they compare” Faolan eyed the massive wolf who returned his stare, approaching slowly Faolan raised his hand and began scratching the wolf behind the ear, the wolf in turn tilted his head and closed his eyes obviously enjoying the sensation which brought Faolan a smile “I see you have a way with him, your dogs adore that ole trick too eh” said Stormclaw as he took over from Faolan and scratched the wolf's ear. “Indeed, let us go to the kennels then, our most recent addition sounds most promising” the four astartes and the wolf made their way to the kennels with Cearul keeping a safe distance from the thunderwolf. The barking if the dogs could be heard from all over Canis Caelum but as Faolan approached the barking became louder and more frequent. The kennels were one of the larger buildings in Canis Caelum and seemly one of the more prioritised ones, as one entered through the massive twin doors . All the dogs began to jump up in excitement at Faolan, tails wagging, forming a circle around the marine. When the thunderwolf strode in however, every single dog’s tails stopped wagging and fell between their legs as they retreated back into the corners of the enclosure even the Fianna which were considered to be the most dangerous breed the Emperor's Hounds had to offer. One lone pup however, persisted in playing with Faolan,Keon the new pup native to this moon continued licking and biting Faolan’s fingers, his tail wagging he seemly took no notice of the thunderwolf that had almost emptied the room. Once Faolan stood he turned to see Lord Stormclaw grin from ear to ear “This one either doesn't know any better or he is special” chuckling all the while, Faolan joined in on the chuckling “Indeed, this one is new to our kennels, native to Crion and it’s moons. My Houndmaster said he was special but to flat out ignore a thunderwolf” just then without Faolan to play with Keon wandered up to Skoll who merely ignored the pup almost as if it were a nuisance. Keon began scratching and nibbling the wolf’s paw, Skoll who wasn't expecting such a thing jump in fright which set the four astartes to burst out laughing. Keon who was about to chase the wolf and continue his play session was scooped up by Faolan “Enough of that, back you go” putting the pup back down near the other dogs. “You have my thanks” said Faolan “This has definitely raised my spirits” “As it has ours brother, i’m eager to see that pup fully grown to see what he is capable of, say Floki and I still have a few bottles of brew to finish off if you would like to join us ?” “Nah, thank you for the offer, enjoy your brew” declined Faolan as he waved his brothers off “We always do!” Chuckled Stormclaw as he departed for his chambers. “So what now ?” Cearul asked “I am gonna meet with the new commanders, introduce myself, you coming ?” “Sure, got nothing else to do”

Lord General McFallus and Colonel Taylor were sharing some wine in the Lord General’s quarters when Faolan and Cearul emerged in the doorway, both men rushed to stand “Don't worry friends, sit down, relax. I thought I would introduce myself while we have the chance” “Faolan Gall right ? Quite the fury you displayed in there at that xenos, you were dead right of course” said the Lord General as he sipped on his wine, “Agreed, what was that idiot thinking bringing not only a kroot but a mercenary to this meeting, his lips are sealed only as long as he is getting paid, after he leaves Payne’s employ who knows what kinds of secrets he could spill” commented the Colonel. “I appreciate the comments but I should have held back my anger that display did noone any good” “Don't be too hard on yourself, here have some wine” “Suppose I time for one or two, thank you McFallus”.

Ardan strolled around the great hall again, he had lost count as to how many times he had done so, such is the joy of patrolling thought Ardan as he turned the corner. He stopped mid stride and listened, a rustle in the bushes, could be a bird or a similar type of creature but Ardan was not taking any chances. Drawing his chainsword his cautiously approached the one of the bushes that lingered around the back of the great hall. Ardan saw a green blur before he was shoved onto the ground. Something began to thump off his helmet, something blunt like a club, a similar pain erupted from his legs and spread. He vision started to blur and fade, he managed to catch a glimpse of his assailants before he was knocked out cold, ork kommandos. Akark clobbered the beakie boy first, right around the back of the head which dropped him to the floor where he kept on clobbering. Kharok joined in next bashing in the beakie boy’s kneecaps rendering any escape impossible, when Nurgor joined in it was all over and started beating the marine’s mid section. The marine stopped moving, “We clobbered ‘im right an’ gud” grinned Kharok “Gotta hide da body” said Nurgor looking left and right for a hiding spot “Oi what ‘bout dese bushes ‘ere, we gotta move anyway” “Hmmm, ah feth it, throw him him den and let’s go” the three kommandos hid the body in an adjacent bush and skulked around Canis Caelum looking for a new spot to spy on the meeting.

Faolan walked back to the great hall along with Cearul, Lord General McFallus and Colonel Taylor when they bumped into High Queen Moira and Castella talking just outside the door “ And thats when he fell into the punch bowl” “Whether Castella let off a smile or not it was impossible to tell as her repmask covered her face. “Ladies, the meeting is about to recommence, may we ?” Letting the two women go first they reentered the building where now roast pork was now being served, as the serf cut into the pork its juices flowed down the side of it which made many of the guests mouth water. The pork was served with potatoes and various forms of vegetables with some gravy being passed around. Once everyone was settled Faolan stood “Before we go on I would like to apologise for my behaviour earlier on and in an attempt to avoid further conflict I would ask Ta’lok to leave the building” no one argued, no one said anything as the kroot left the meeting in silence. Skoll who was curled up in a ball next to the fireplace was awoken by the smell of food and got two whole pigs for himself. “Now then, with our progress reports out of the way I believe we should make plans going forward” “Before we move on, earlier Inquisitor Randall you said you have yet to run into our traitorous brethern yet I have a feeling my marines may have made contact with them” revealed Iodius a look of concern flashed upon Inquisitor Randall’s face “From where did you get that notion?” “Something is hunting my second in command, Caesar I suspect Chaos marines” “Any other proof ?” “Not at this time” “Keep us updated Chaplain” said Randall as another round of fire could be heard from the holo emitter. Payne let out a nervous cough “Before my bodyguard was asked to leave he told me that he had felt a presence arrive in the sector, a chaos daemon perhaps ?” Nu-Alhuraq nodded in agreement “I definitely felt something cannot tell you what exactly but it was big” Colonel Taylor stepped up “We must be ever vigilant of chaos that is true but they are not the only threat, while the local feral orks hve been dealt a major blow with the loss of their Warbosses many still stand, Gorgrim comes to mind, while I have not been here long I have seen firsthand the cost of ignoring orks for too long, they must be finished off” High Queen Moira pitched in “Agreed we must finish what we started” Payne stood up “Need I remind you about the Tillers ? While I appreciate all of your efforts I believe a bigger one could be made to tackle those scum.” Exitar spoke next, “Let us not forget about the Eldar threat, who knows what those knife ears are planning” Cearul nodded “Agreed Eldar still,plague Aspen to this very day, kidnapping and raiding they should not be left to plan and scheme. They would happily sacrifice all of us for one of their own.” Faolan pitched in “And for that reason I pledge that the Emperor’s Hounds will aid you in searching for and destroying the Eldar threat” Exitar nodded “Thank you, Alpha brother”. Nu-Alhuraq spoke next “While all of those threats need to be taken care of I believe my brothers found a much more immediate threat, a massive ork horde lies south of here with an ork Gargant at its head last seen heading towards the space elevator on this moon, should they reach it they could spread their waaaagh to any one of the moons and or planets, they must be stopped on this moon and it will be a collaborative effort.” A deathly silence took the room, Lord General McFallus was the one to break it “Any other information on the horde itself ?” “Massive, wartrukks, Deff dreads, killa kans, you name it they got it, definitely higher tech than what the local orks possess” Castella spoke up “The Gargant is the main threat to be sure, any ideas on how to destroy it ? What about some melta charges from the inside of it ?” Stormclaw shook his head “A number of problems with that, one you would have to get inside it and swarms of planes would be flying around it to be sure, two the explosion that a machine that size would make will be huge not sure how much of a window a team would have for extraction. So saying that we need to use the environment to tackle this beast” “Agreed, maybe a canyon would do it, it would limit its maneuverability allowing us to get aboard relatively safely and the following explosion would collapse the canyon and bury it under rubble” proposed Faolan. “So how do we decide who does what ? As you said this will be a multi part operation a d -” Pryce Rye burst into the meeting room which startled Skoll and whispered something into Faolan’s ear. All could see that it was bad news as Faolan’s face turned into a scowl. “It appears that one of my own have been assaulted, under my own roof, he was beaten to near death and is with the apothecary as we speak. Forgive me for being suspicious to each and every one of you but the island is locked down, you are the only outsiders who could have arrived here without permission, so would anyone want to admit something ?” A silence broke out as each of the leaders looked at each other “What about your pet kroot Payne ? Maybe he did not appreciate being kicked out” spat Lord General McFallus . Payne snorted “I doubt it , he would not be so brash or foolish to attempt such a thing”. Iodius rose “You are hardly blaming us for your lacking security are you ?” Faolan rose also “Excuse me ?” “Have you not considered that it may have been one of your own ?” “You insolent cur ! Just because most of your chapter defected to the ruinous powers doesn't mean we are all so unfaithful !” Stormclaw rose “Brothers please, we must be unified if we are to tackle all the issues th-” Iodius lunged over the table sending his mailed fist upwards connecting with Faolan’s chin which sent him reeling backwards. The rest of the delegates stood up and backed off giving the two marines room. Faolan stood back up clutching his jaw before he lunged at Iodius and smashed him through the wooden wall behind him, Faolan was about to pursue him when a wall of flame soared up in front of Faolan separating the two fighters, Nu-Alhuraq stood staff outstretched “You are the Emperor’s Angels of death save your wrath for the enemy, Emperor knows we have enough of them !” Faolan looked at everyone in the room, still in a temper “Everyone leave, NOW !” One by one the various leaders left Canis Caelum while Faolan rushed to the med bay to see how his old friend was doing.Faolan reflected on today’s events while he looked over Ardan who was battered and bruised but was in a stable condition, By the Emperor thought Faolan what a mess.

Rashn watched the brawl from his tree, he saw the human donned in blacked getting shoved through the wall and the rest of them leaving soon after. The new hole in the wall made retrieving the listening device easy, as if it wasn't easy enough. With the listening device in their possession Rashn and his rangers went to report back to their Farseer who would no doubt be interested with today's events.

Cearul apologised to the last delegate as they took off out of Canis Caelum, a heavy tap on his shoulder got his attention, turning he saw Cabhan standing there “Brother Cadarn, how do you fare ?” “Just heard the news brother about the meeting and Ardan, any suspects ?” “Half the bloody Imperium at this point, just spent the last twenty minutes apologizing to our guests as they departed, to say that was foolish is an understatement.” “I blame the Kroot, it will put him in a bad mood for days” “Faolan is wise but that wisdom is useless if he cannot control his temper, I am gonna go and see what the old dog is thinking” “Very well Cearul, I will make a sweep of the scanners and see if I can't fish up something on Ardan’s assailants” departing Cearul turned for the med bay to see if he can figure out what the hell just happened, never a dull moment Cearul thought to himself as the sun set on Canis Caelum.

=====Yankor, Luna Epsilon=====

Numek stood at a table in his personal research area gazing at a three-dimensional map of some topography, his small metallic companion perched on his shoulder. It is a dense jungle terrain with thick underbrush and tall trees, flora of all shapes and sizes could be seen distributed throughout. Numek moved his skeletal finger through the amber image, the glow radiating off both his and Kephri’s ivory carapace. Where his finger moved, a line was traced, he was creating a trail to something. He was interrupted when the door opened and Kephri almost lurched at the visitor.
“Sorry for intruding, but I have a favor to ask of you.” A small blue figure slowly entered the room. Tach’var’s eyes wandered about the room as he approached Numek.
“It is quite fine Shas’O, what favor do you need?”
“I was in the information center and noticed that one of your men picked up on a signal from Crion.”
“What of it?”
“I’m no specialist, but I know that was a Tau signal a-”
“And you need someone to hack into their communications. But to what end?”
“Well, perhaps I can negotiate some form of deal with them. Seeing that they’re on the surface, perhaps we can persuade them to give us information?”
“I doubt your attempt will succeed… but you may try nonetheless, there will be a Warrior waiting for you in the Transmissions room.”
“Thank you Numek.”
Numek had already resumed his work by the time the Tau had replied. It interested him little, the toils of mortals, for he had a single purpose, to create. Numek finished tracing his line at a particular spot in the jungle, it was an entrance of some sort. As well hidden as it was, its location had already been discovered, it was just a matter of moving the troops there. He would bring along several Warrior Phalanxes as well as a Deathmark Pack. The jungle canopy was to dense for an aerial drop, they would have to go in on foot. He grabbed his staff and sent orders to those he was taking. By the time he reached the entrance to surface, 30 Warriors and 10 Deathmarks had already assembled.

=====Tybalt, Luna Epsilon=====

The trek to the Blood Dragon Ruin was a long and arduous one, filled with panoramic views and dense fog. The trip overall took several hours to accomplish due to the thick underbrush and fog, Numek wasn’t willing to take chances with the fog. Numek stopped his men about 5 clicks from where the ruins entrance was supposed to be. He looked around for a bit before continuing, “Alright, Deathmarks, I want you to scout forward. Enter your ethereal plain and watch for any threats, link up with us when we get to the ruins.” The leading Deathmark nodded, then activated his dimensional oubliette and disappeared from existence. Numek signaled for the rest of the Warriors to continue forward on their advance. The Deathmarks reached the site first and were able to locate the entrance. Numek soon followed with his Warrior Phalanxes, he looked over the entrance, inspecting the carvings on it.

The entrance was small, only able to accommodate 2 warriors side by side. They began marching but stopped after a minute or so, something was off. Before the Necrons realized the trap they had just walked into, the panels on the walls opened and beasts entered the chamber. The strange beasts with razor fangs and leathery black hides became tearing at the Necron ranks. Normally this would be trivial, but the limitations of the tunnel made it difficult to mount any sort of a proper defence. A dozen Necrons are destroyed by the beasts before the Necrons began falling back, as they did so, more and more beasts were felled. The path glowed with flashes of amber as the gauss projectors cracked and unmade the beasts. By the time they made it back out of the tunnels a few more men had been lost. Numek was not about to lose the rest of his Warriors and endanger the mission, he would deploy some scanners and see where they lead. He released them and pulled up a holo map of what the scanners were detecting. The path was small, but went on for a couple miles before reaching a large chamber.

Numek turned and faced the air behind him, “Enter the tunnel, finish off whatever beasts reappear, I will accompany you into the chamber.” Without another word the Deathmarks re entered reality and left their own dimension. They began to move cautiously through the tunnel, every now and then a few beasts would come out of the walls, but after seeing their lesser kin torn asunder they knew how to fight these beasts. As the beasts lurched for their prey, they exposed their massive maws, leaving them vulnerable to a well placed shot that would eviscerate their nervous systems. As Numek and his Deathmarks reached the end of the tunnel they approached a massive stone door adorned in runes and icons of the Blood Dragons. Above the door was written a most grave warning in High Gothic which read, “Beware Murrogg Usher of the End Times.”

Numek, believing he could handle anything, chooses to enter the room despite the apocalyptic warning. The room is quite large and contains what seems to be an altar on the opposite side of the room. Decorating the walls is a mural, it depicts a great winged beast raining black fire and death upon Astartes, but at the end of the mural an Astartes cloaked in a golden halo raises his arm to the foul beast which is then banished. Numek turned his eyes to the altar, upon which sat a great urn with more Blood Dragon inscriptions on it. A faint whirring noise drew his attention the the Deathmark closest to the altar. It began shuddering, its amber glow fading into a red one, its smooth white carapace turning to that of dark ash. It approached the urn and opened it, Numek raised his staff to destroy the rogue Deathmark, but it was too late, whatever evil slumbered within that urn was now released onto the world. Before Numek could do much of anything an ethereal flash blinded all in the room, the rest of the Deathmarks began aiming at whatever had just manifested itself. Three Deathmarks were utterly ripped to shreds by the black blur before it slammed another two into the wall, destroying them completely. Numek and the surviving Deathmarks teleported to the entrance of the ruin, away from the thing. Numek looked around, there was not a sight of the rogue Deathmark, it must have gone to who/what had been able to override its programming, this causes Numek a great deal of worry. His train of thought was shattered as a massive roar was heard from the tunnel's entrance, seconds later the same black blur broke through the entrance and took to the skies at tremendous speeds. Numek was not sure what he saw, but whatever it was, it was obviously this Murrogg.

He motioned to his surviving units and motioned for them to follow him back into the tunnel. Along the way he was able to reanimate a few Warriors, but in the chamber, none of the Deathmarks were salvageable. He looked to the Deathmarks, “Return to base, tell Grulahk what has happened here. Tell him I need a Canoptek Host and 2 additional Warrior Phalanxes.” The Deathmarks turned and faded out of existence, Numek walked over to where the urn was and began looking at the shattered pieces. This would require further study.

The Hive is almost peaceful at this time of night. The air is perfectly still, almost as if the world itself is taking a much needed breather before resuming its’ normal rhythm. Much of the shooting has stopped, as both sides pull back to lick their wounds and prepare for the next day. The foolish younger races have forgotten about the presence of me and my kin, a fact that I intend to exploit fully, they will regret the day that they tested the mettle of Khaine’s children. We will not spill blood this night and maybe not the next either, but soon enough the mon’keigh will feel our blades, and they will know of our coming by our banshee calls. They will know fear, and they will know the wrath of the Eldar. It is only a matter of time.

I trod silently through the winding streets of the Hive, scanning the surrounding buildings carefully with weapons at the ready. At my side march a squad of ten Guardians, each one a proud scion of Iybraesil, each one a son or daughter of Isha. Every time I see it it fills me with fierce pride. The Eldar may have fallen far since our glory days, but we are still a force to be reckoned with. My memories of my previous life amongst the humans seems to grow fainter and fainter with every passing day, and strangely enough, I do not miss those memories. I’m not exactly ashamed of my time amidst the humans, posing as one of them, but my mind is eager to replace those memories with new and better ones. I’m jolted out of my reverie when the lead Guardian suddenly halts and raises a fist, indicating that the rest of us need to stop and listen. As one we melt seamlessly into the shadows, and just a few seconds later we see the cause of the Guardian’s caution. A group of Cultists round the corner, talking loudly as they go about their patrol. Their lack of discipline is reason enough to hate them, but to assist the great Enemy? That is truly unforgivable. My hand strays towards the hilt of my shuriken pistol. It would be so easy to do it, to pull my pistol and cut them down where they stand. I know that I would receive support from my Guardians, for I can sense their bloodlust just as I’m sure they can sense mine. These fools do not deserve to breathe the same air as us, but I know that attacking them now would prove disadvantageous in the long run. It would put them on high alert for some time, making future operations in this area difficult. Our objective tonight is not to slay, it is to gather information, to begin to learn the patrol routes of the enemy. And we have accomplished this. With a gentle mental signal we begin to make our way back towards our hidden base camp in the Hive. My hand was stayed tonight by necessity, the enemy will not be so lucky next time.

Ben sat in the crew quarters of the Valkyrie, about two kilometres from the walls of ‘The Blood Fort’.
“ETA three minutes, sir.” The co-pilot swivelled in his chair to face Ben.
“Great, send word that we’re coming, we don’t want to catch the lads off guard that much now do we?” Ben laughed.
“Yes sir. Sending word now.” The co-pilot turned back and pressed a few buttons, pulled a few levers and turned back. “Vox is going live in 5-4-3…” He counted down the rest with his fingers. As the co-pilot closed his hand, Ben began to speak.
“PDF outpost ‘Blood Fort’, this is Captain Benjamin Sloan, of the 2nd Helsreach ‘Gorgons’, requesting a landing pad and a meeting with whoever is in charge. We need some information on the rebels.” Ben waited a few minutes, and a response came in.
“Landing pad two is clear for landing. You will be escorted to the Commander, who will be waiting for you.” With that, communications were cut off.
“Well, they’re not very friendly are they?” The co-pilot laughed after he made sure the vox was off.
“Damned right they ain’t…I think this is going to be more complicated than what we thought it would be…” Ben sighed.

True to the operator’s word, there were a pair of armed guards waiting for Ben and the quarter of first platoon.
“Commander Krane is waiting for you. If you could follow us.” The two guards turned on their heels and marched off.
“Guess we shouldn’t keep the good ‘ol commander waiting eh?” Ben nudged his men forward and followed the two sombre guards. The guides remained silent until the group rounded a corner. The guardsmen were met by another four men, one strapped to a post, with dozens of onlookers. The other three men held long, black whips, the man on the post screamed in agony, his back was just ribbons of flayed flesh. Ben was taken aback by the degree of torture.
“What is this?!” Philodus, a young sergeant, stepped forward to question the two guards.
“Orders from the Commander, now, if you will. Follow us.” The oldest of the guards moved infront of Philodus and gestured to an alley. This silenced Philodus, and he moved back to his commanding officers side. The two shared a hushed word as the guards marched off again.
“Hard-asses eh?”
“Fookin hell you can say that again…” Ben said slightly too loud, and the younger guard turned and stared at Ben. He turned back and mumbled something to his compatriot and continued walking.
“Bit loud don’t you think?” Philodus smiled as the colour slowly went back to his Captains face. Ben made a motion across his lips and kept walking.

After several minutes of walking, the group finally reached the Commanders office. The two guards entered and motioned for Ben and his squad to stay back. After a minute or two, they came back out and motioned for Ben and two others to enter. Philodus and another veteran entered, each holding their lasguns at rest. Ben noticed how spartan the room was, minimal items on the simple wooden desk, two chairs on either side the desk, and a single painting on the wall. Commander Samuel Krane rose up from his desk to meet his guests.
“Captain Sloan, a pleasure. I am Samuel Krane, Commander of this here establishment.” Samuel Krane offered his hand to Ben.
“Likewise Commander.” Ben took his hosts hand and shook it up and down. The Commander gestured to a chair infront of his desk.
“Please, sit.” Ben sat on it and heard his two men lean against the wall.
“Thank you. We-“
“Have much to talk about yes, I’ve heard it all before.” Ben was slightly taken aback by the Commanders response, and went to continue.
“Yes. You see, my regiment have just finished a deployment, and this is our only stop before we can go back to our planet and settle down. To do this as fast as possible, Lord-General McFallus requests that we begin training of your PDF immediately. Now, if you could cooperate, that would speed up precessions significantly.”
“No.”
“No?”
“No. You think you fething offworlders can walk into MY fort and teach MY men how to fight? The Blood Fort was established when Sebastian Payne first settled Crion, and we have a damn proud tradition of being the Lord Governor’s best. Take your gak to Blackwater where they might need it.” Samuel Krane scoffed at Ben, his eyes blazing a hole of hostility into Ben. Ben temper flared and he leapt to his feet and slammed his las-pistol on the desk.
“You watch your words Crane, I should have you shot for insubordination!”
“I’d like to see you try!” Samuel, now also on his feet motioned at his guards, who were both pointing their las-guns at Ben. His two men responded by aiming their own weapons at the two guards. “My word is final. Get out of my Fort.”
“Did that man out there question your word? Is that the measure of justice around these parts? You make me sick.”
“Good. Now get out.” Ben gritted his teeth and picked up his pistol.
“I will not forget this…this…Tomfoolery!!” Ben warned as he left the office.
“You can count on it, swine.” Samuel smiled as he leaned back into his chair, sharing a laugh with the two guardsmen at his sides. Back outside of the office, Ben and his men stormed back to the Valkyrie. Philodus walked next to his commander, and finally managed the courage to ask Ben a question that was on his mind for a while.
“Sir?” The young sergeant asked
“What is it?” Ben, still salty from his encounter snapped.
“Tomfoolery?” The sergeant chuckled.
“I will shoot you. You tell no one I fookin’ said that.” Ben shook his head, there were so many better words he could’ve used at the time, but he was just too pissed to think of them.
“Yes sir. Understood. There will be no tomfoolery from me, Sir.” Philodus grinned from ear to ear.
“Fookin’ smartass…” Ben also laughed.

The trip back to South Vow was a silent one, each man doing his own thing. Until Benjamin got up and squeezed into the cockpit.
“How much fuel we got?”
“About 70% full, why?”
“We’re taking a detour. Gimme a map of all the outposts around this shitehole of a planet.”
“Alright…Give me a second…” The pilot fiddled with a small satchel at his side while he controlled the Valkyrie with his knees. He pulled a small, folded piece of paper out of it with his mouth and closed his satchel. He opened the paper, revealing a hand-drawn map.
“Damn, since when were you into topography?”
“Since we got here sir, now, we can go anywhere within…” The pilot drew a small circle around a point. “Here. And that’s including reserves. Where ever we go, we have to refuel if we want to get back intact.”
“Aha, so…PDF outposts?” Ben looked over the map. “By the way, do you want me to hold the map? I’m getting a bit edgy with you using your knees to keep us in the air…”
“Nobody touches my maps, sir. Not even you.” The pilot then pointed at a few points on the map. “Just those sir, the ones we can make are these two.” The pilot pointed at two points on the map within the circle.
“Well, one of them is a big no, so how about the other one? Information on it?” Ben asked.
“Eh, it’s called Dorn’s Shield…”
“And?”
“How am I meant to know?” Ben facepalmed.
“Emperor damn it…Guess we’re winging it?”
“Anything else we can do?”
“Nah, anyway, you’re about to fly us into the trees, could you maybe, oh I don’t know, not?”
“Oh, yea. Sorry about that.” The pilot responded calmly and eased the controls back with his knees. The Valkyrie levelled and Ben let out a breath.
“So, how long?” Ben asked.
“Current speed? About two hours.”
“Good, I’m going to get some shut eye, I’ll inform the others.”
“Good, I’ll wake you up when we’re ten minutes out.” Ben nodded and went back to the rest of his squad. After the debrief, there was exactly one hour, forty-nine minutes and thirteen seconds left. He was sure to make the most of it.

Ben unstrapped himself and stood up.
“Oright, as I said, no playing around. I don’t want to go back to the General with empty pockets and nothing to show for it, he could take away my supply of ale.” Joked Ben. He knew these men for a long time, and he respected them enough to share a laugh with them. Each soldier began unstrapping themselves from their seats and began to rise.

Where the last trip was a friendly meeting, Ben would have a no bullgak encounter this time. They go in hard, they go in fast. Catch the garrison off guard, and demand they receive proper training to prevent it from happening again. Ben prayed it would work. The Valkyrie voxed in, requesting a space to land. The response came in late, and Ben raised his eyebrow. This seemed promising. The response finally came in.
“Er, yes, please land at umm…Landing pad 2.” The pilot said nothing, and pulled the Valkyrie over a small, battered wall. He yanked the controls back as another gunship filled the viewport. He swore and expertly brought down the left wing to prevent collision. He felt it scrape against the hard stone of the wall and cursed again. Ben felt himself fly into the wall opposite him. He felt a sharp pain in his arm. He shouted out in pain, and felt himself fly back into his seat, and felt another crack. Another three men were thrown around the transport, while the rest were barely able to hold on. Eventually, the Valkyrie evened out again and his squadmates were able to help him and the other fallen guardsmen.
“Sir, your arm is broken in two places and you have a concussion, can you hear me?” Philodus slapped Ben awake. “Stay awake sir, I don’t feel like having another commanding officer just yet.” The pilot stormed out of the cockpit and grabbed the two nearest troopers. He stormed up to the wall, pulled out his pistol and fired in the air. After a half a minute delay, a head popped over the rails. The pilot called out, his voice seething with rage.
“Get your ass down here! And bring your damned operator with you!” The pilot paced for several minutes, before a rackety gate opened up and half a dozen semi-drunk troopers emerged, one of which, had a distinct headset on. The pilot marched right up to the operator, grabbed his head, and smashed it against his knee.
“YOU FOOKING IDIOTIC SON OF A WHORE gak DRIBBLER! YOU COULD’VE KILLED US ALL!” The pilot kicked at the downed operator. The troopers accompanying him looked around in surprise, and were in turn, brought to their knees by the pilot. “Fooking six on one, and you all still lose. You should all be ashamed of yourselves. Now get on your feet, and tell your panty assed commander that real soldiers have come to train your incompetent asses how to fookin be real men!” The pilot smiled underneath his oxygen mask, which he had forgotten to remove. This job just got a hell of a lot easier.

The pilot was right. The commander, Ogger Berrek, was swift to agree to the Gorgons teaching his PDF. He also voiced his concerns that the Tillers, an anti-governor regime, were taking over Dorn’s Shield. This was not taken lightly, and plans were made to flush out the heretics, and cleanse the up and coming outpost of their kind. Training started within a few days, and already, the Guardsman in charge of the arduous training were taken aback by the amount of potential these recruits had. They would make soldiers of them yet. Captain Benjamin also outlawed public flaying, after seeing the atrocities performed at The Blood Fort.

One week after the events at Dorn’s Shield

“GIT YA LAZY FOOKIN ASSES OUT OF THE MUD AND UP THE WALL!” Drill sergeant Eirine yelled at the top of her voice to the twenty recruits in front of her. She, and her platoon, had been assigned training duties, along with the rest of the Company. They scrambled out of the mud, speeding at the sound of her voice, and climbed the wall as fast as they could. One by one, they went over the ten foot wall and jumped down into the sewage water. She moved beside them, constantly hurtling insults and curses at them, but deep inside, she was incredibly proud of them. In the week she had this group, they flourished like a malnourished flower. She watered them with insults, and, slowly, they bloomed, and the outline of soldiers. “GOOD! Now, get cleaned up and report to the mess in twenty minutes. And funny business and you’re sleeping with the pigs.” She beamed underneath her face mask. Slowly, the drained recruits made their way to the mixed gender showers, then back into their rooms. A few minutes later, they exited, and made their way to the makeshift mess, which was the size of a Field Command HQ. Eirine was already there, sitting at a table with the rest of the drill abbots. The mess was filling quickly, the other groups coming back from their showers also coming to eat.
“You got them working a tight schedule, I’ll give you that.” Liam remarked as he sipped his wine.
“Damned right. Wouldn’t have it any other way.” Eirine watched the twenty recruits sit at a table, and begin to converse. She saw a few glances towards her direction and smiled. She picked up her tray and stood up. “Ya know what? I think I might sit with em. Might bring up their spirits. See yous tonight.”
“Got that. Just so you know, sleeping with recruits ain’t allowed.” Zach snickered as Eirine moved away. She turned and shot him a poisonous glare. He shut up.
“Oi, you guys got room for one more?” Eirine asked as she reached the table.
“Yes ma’am, of course ma’am.” The recruits spoke out in unison.
“No need for formalities here. Just call me Sarg or something. But on the field, I expect you all to go back to addressing me by my rank.” She warned, but sat down anyway. “I just wanted you all to know that I am very proud of you all. You’ve come a long way in your first week, and I can’t wait to see what you can do in a month or two.”
“Thank you Sarg!” All the recruits responded at the same time.

Back at The Gates to Hel(Guard Strike base)

“So, theres a meeting huh?” Henri asked.
“Aye, a Chapter of Space Marines is holding it at their Base. We goin or not?”
“Aye of course we’ll go. Make friends and show our faces to the rest of the Imperials. Oh, and of course, get information and what not.” Henri twirled the end of his moustache.
“Brilliant, when are we goin?” Ben asked.
“Well, we have to get off planet, so, if we leave in a day or two, we’ll probably get there on time. Get a few Karskin and brief them. Oh, and please look presentable.”
“What? You want me to shave my beard? But…These Marines might like it…”
“Shave. Hell, wear a bloody mask. Don’t want to scare our new friends to death now do we?” Henri chuckled.
“Ah fook off.”
“You wish.”
“…Coont…” Ben swore underneath his breath.
“I heard that.”

The wind roared as a Storm Eagle flew through the skies over Hive Cogger. The battle below made for a useful distraction, keeping most of the defences busy whilst the gunship descended towards the burning Hive.

Kusun and Mithras sat in the back of the vessel, surrounded by a group of ten Terminator-armoured Black Legionnaires. A safety measure, as Mithras had put it, in case the ‘negotiations’ did not go as planned.

Kusun despised the thought. Astartes were not meant for diplomacy, nor for ‘negotiations’. To negotiate was to prostrate oneself for another, to show weakness. He had grown amongst the pack of wolves and serpents that was the Black Legion, and he knew all too well that a silver tongue never saved anyone from the ambitions of his brethren.

The vox crackled as the intercom sprang to life.

“Lords, we are approaching our destination. Shall I open the communications channel?”, the pilot’s slightly metallic voice croaked over the vox.

Kusun sighed. “Negative. I shall do so myself”, he spoke, reaching for the Vox-caster he had ripped from an unfortunate PDF guard back in the village. He hooked a small wire unto the Vox-caster and attached it to his collar, linking his personal vox with that of the Vox-caster. Then, he carefully started tuning the signal, although it proved rather difficult as the buttons were still slick with the blood of their previous owner. After some fiddling, Kusun heard a shrill voice shouting into the vox with an admirable passion, proclaiming the death of the Imperials and the glory of the revolution.

Fanatics. Wonderful.

He cleared his throat, and spoke into the vox a single word.

“Despair.”

The voice suddenly stopped dead in its tracks. Confusion seemed to reign on the other end of the line. A few minutes of silence and static passed, only a few whispers passing between the individuals on the other side. Then, the voice spoke again.

“Who is this? How did you find this channel?”

“How did you?”, Kusun asked, his armoured fingers tapping on the unfortunate vox-caster’s skull. He’d kept it on his belt ever since the attack. He himself wasn’t even quite sure why.

More whispers, this time slightly agitated. The voice returned.

“Identify yourself! Are you a servant of the Corpse-Emperor?”

Kusun sighed. “I am Kusun Zhaqar, commander of the Omnia Cadunt and representative of the Black Legion. I’m going to presume that I am speaking to the resistance of Hive Cogger.”

Mentioning the Black Legion seemed to have caught the cultists’ attention, as their whispered chatter was now almost audible in the background. The voice returned, albeit still rather hesitant.

“Do you pledge your allegiance to the Flayed Lord?”

If Kusun had not lost his sense of humour millennia earlier, he would have laughed at such a question.

“I bow to no-one but the Warmaster himself. If your Lord takes offence to that, I propose he works it out with him instead.”

The man on the other end of the line didn’t respond.

“If you are done asking mundane questions, I would like to meet with your superiors. My ship requires a landing zone. Guide me to one or I shall make one myself.”

And with that, he unplugged the Vox unit from his suit and crunched it to dust in his fists.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

The Storm Eagle gracefully descended towards the landing zone, which was a small landing pad near the Governor’s palace. The side hatches were open, so Kusun could see the state of affairs for himself. Around the landing zone stood a group of armed cultists, several of them nervously pacing back and forth and trailing the incoming gunship with worried glances.

Kusun rose from his chair as the aircraft touched down on the landing pad, as did Mithras and their escorts. Before Kusun could step outside, Mithras placed a firm hand on his shoulder.

“Remember, Brother. We are here to make these men our allies.”

Kusun glanced at him over his shoulder. “I am aware, Apostle. Your point?”

Mithras sighed. “Try to not provoke them… unnecessarily.”

“Of course”, Kusun replied, as he stepped out unto the dust-covered landing pad.

The group of cultists visibly tensed as the Black Legionnaires disembarked from the Storm Eagle, their grip on their guns tightening as they took stock of the new arrivals.

Few dared to keep their eyes on the black-armoured giant leading the group for too long, for fear of catching his undivided attention. A careful observer noted that his left shoulderpad was coloured a bloody crimson, and an icon of the Blood God hung prominently on the figure’s belt. A massive war-axe hung loosely on his back, ticking ever so softly against the backpack, although one could have sworn it sounded more like the barking of a monstrous hound.

The giant stopped, as did his retinue. The two groups, human and Astartes, stood face to face for a few tense minutes, as the former gathered the courage to approach the latter. The situation sat on a knife-edge, and everyone knew how quickly things would escalate if it came to blows.

The giant inhaled, the sound akin to a wave heaving itself upwards before it crashed back unto the ocean floor, and the cultists and Astartes alike gripped their weapons even tighter, waiting for the fateful command that would be ushered from the giant’s lips.

“Bring me to your leader.”

The statement was so incredibly blunt that it temporarily stunned both groups entirely. Mithras smacked the palm of his hand against his faceplate as hard as he could, whilst the cultists were simply too puzzled by the statement to form a reply.

The tension returned when one overzealous cultist shouted a curse and took aim at Kusun, his eyes glimmering with fanaticism. A couple of brave others joined him, their rusty autoguns trained on Kusun’s unhelmeted head.

Kusun looked around at the group, making not even the slightest move to defend himself. His Legionnaires stood impassively by his side, waiting for what would happen next.

“By all means…”, Kusun spoke to the crowd, his voice carrying a hint of the rage that simmered beneath.

“Amuse me.”

Guard:

Moon # 1, Isles of Pratt

The nightmare begins as it always does for me.

I’m trapped in the cockpit of my Vendetta, and all around me the skies burn and the corpses of my comrades rain down from the skies. I’m powerless to do anything to help as I watch my regiment die slowly, one by one as they fall to earth. Just as the last corpse impacts the ground with a wet thud that I can somehow hear through my cockpit I’m jerked out of the world of dreams by the impact of a small object on my chest. My eyes snap open and I can now see that the object is my flight helmet, and a second later I notice my co-pilot Jonathon at the doorway to my room. “We gotta go Eve,” he shouts while looking around anxiously “word just came in from the brass, and we got orders to fly. Briefing’s in ten minutes and Taylor will have our hides if we’re late.” Instantly I jolt out of bed and begin hurriedly throwing on my flight suit. Colonel Taylor is usually rather relaxed in his attitude towards us, so if he’s out of whack about something it usually means that the crap is about to flow downhill to the rest of us. In record time my uniform on and I and Jonathon are sprinting down the hall towards our de-facto meeting room. When I get there Colonel Tayor is standing at the front of the room with an expression on his face of grim resolve, like he knows that the gak is about to hit the fan, but he has no choice but to take it and roll with it. My fellow pilots are already standing around the room in small groups, chatting idly while we all wait for the briefing to start. Just as we enter the room Colonel Taylor clears his throat to draw everyone’s attention to him. As Colonel Taylor lays it on us that there is a massive Ork horde approaching the space elevator, the atmosphere in the room begins to change. Where once there was a weary impatience, there is now restrained eagerness. Hunting Orks is our calling, and it is one we take to with gusto. Our mission will be to scout out the main horde and to determine it’s composition so that the relevant information can be relayed back to High Command. After that is done, Taylor tells us with a gleam in his eye, then we have permission to “soften” up the Ork horde. This news is greeted with a round of deafening applause. Immediately afterwards our individual flight orders are transmitted to our data pads, and we all take off at a run towards the air-field. It is only then that I noticed the figure that is standing next to him. Standing just to Colonel Taylor’s right is a silver and black armored figure who he appears to be having a rather intense conversation with. It takes me a moment to recognize the figure as a Space Marine, one of the Angels of Death. But before I can pause to take in the sight, I’m getting shoved along by my co-pilot. “Come on Eve!” he shouts eagerly “Let’s get to it before all the good kills are taken!” His enthusiasm is infectious, and soon I found myself darting down the hallway after him, the confusion over the Marine’s presence being shoved to a dark corner of my mind, to be contemplated at a later date.

The pre-flight checks are done with a fair bit more speed and enthusiasm than normal. Most of the time these checks tend to drag on, as the process of checking every flyer’s readiness for battle is typically a laborious process. But today the pilots and ground crew go about it with an unusual speed. There is a palpable energy to the air that even the simplest of men could pick up on, and it seems to infect everyone with its’ energy. As I finish my pre-flight inspection, making sure to rub the faded nameplate on the side of my craft, I can feel a set of eyes burning into my back. I look over my shoulder just in time to see the same silver and black armored figure from earlier setting down next to the Colonel over the holo-table. Doubtlessly he’s here to offer “advice” to us regarding how to defeat our most hated foe, and I snort derisively as I turn back around. As if we need the help. I rub the nameplate on my Vendetta one more time for good luck, and as always the faded words that spell out “Indomitable” give me some last-minute comfort. One-by-one our assorted craft take to the sky and begin the journey to the last-reported position for the Ork horde. Valkyries and Vendettas settle into formation, while Vultures and a few Thunderbolts on loan from the Navy settle into their escort positions overhead. Then we begin the long journey to the last known location of the Ork Horde.
*Later*
It’s the waiting that always gets me. My squadron (Squadron Alpha), and Squadron Beta are idling nearby whilst the Valkyries and Thunderbolts run recon on the Ork horde to determine their numbers and send that information back to High Command. A vital job to be sure, but the seemingly endless waiting grates on me. Then my vox picks up something unusual, and I lean forward in my chair to listen, the signal isn’t Imperial in nature, as a matter of fact it seems to be coming from the Orks. After listening to the message on repeat for a few minutes, I’m able to discern that it is a message from one of the junior Ork “Meks” to another one informing him that their progress has been impaired, apparently their “Big Mek” has disappeared, and the resulting confusion has slowed the Orks speed tremendously.

A few minutes later a report comes in from the Valkyrie squadron that corroborates the interecepted message from the Orks, the horde is moving at reduced pace, giving our comrades back at the elevator more time to prepare. Now that the Scouting is done, Colonel Taylor gets on the vox and begins to quietly issue orders to us. We are to launch a few bombing runs on the Ork horde to slow their progress even more, and then we are to return to base to re-arm and re-fuel for when the main Ork offensive comes. As one my Squadron and I race towards the Orks, accompanied by Squadron Beta. As we fly targets are marked on our instruments, along with firing solutions and targeting data. Behind me I can hear Jonathon praying to the Emperor, a simple litany taught to Pilots at the beginning of Flight Training. The litany is designed to focus the mind, to ensure that mind and body act as one. Milliseconds can be crucial in a dog-fight, so I join him in the mantra as we draw ever closer to the Orks. Then they come into view, and righteous anger fills my heart as I see the mechanical monstrosities that the Orks have built. Clanking Deff Dreadz stomp alongside Killa Kanz and Gorkanaughts, kicking up a massive cloud of dust that can be seen for miles. How these abominations of metal can even move, let alone operate is beyond me, but the mere sight of them is enough to send a jolt of rage through my brain. And by the muttered curses and oaths that I can hear over the vox I’m not alone in this sentiment. Then my vox clicks once more, and Colonel Taylor issues the one, and only, order that he needs to for this engagement. “Now” he orders quietly, and then all hell breaks loose. As one my squadron mates and I tip our crafts into the perfect angle for an attack run, and a hail of laser beams shoot out of our crafts and engulf the Orks. Several Killa Kanz detonate explosively, hurling bits of shrapnel and flesh around as their death throes shred many of the Orks standing nearby, and a few Deff Dreadz also lurch as our lascannnons make a mockery of their crude steel plating. I add my own Vendetta’s fire into the mix, and 6 more beams of coherent light leap from my craft and impact on one of the clanking Deff Dreadz, which explodes in a ball of blinding light. As my squadron pulls back up and away from the mob, the second hammer blow comes down as Squadron Beta zooms in right on our heels to keep the Orks on the back foot. Again, many beams of light shoot out and more Orks die as walker after walker detonates under the deluge of fire that is coming from the heavens. It is a beautiful sight, almost as if the hand of the Emperor is coming down and smashing the Orks for their audacity in invading a world of the Imperium. As Squadron Beta pulls out of their attack run the third, and final, blow is struck. Several Valkyries and Thunderbolts zoom over the Orks head, their weapons spitting death. This time, a hail of bolt shells and rockets engulfs the Orks, sending bodies and bits of metal flying, tearing ragged chunks out of the horde. This seems to be the final straw for the Orks, and they mill around in confusion as the larger of the beasts attempt to exert a modicum of control over their lesser comrades, an attempt that is doomed to fail. As we fly back towards base, the vox is filled with cheers as we celebrate our first real victory over the Orks in this system. We gave the Orks a bloody nose that they’re sure to not forget for a long time, and I feel a sense of deep satisfaction fill me. I did my job and put down some xenos, the Emperor is pleased with our work this day. I’m sure of it. Behind me I hear Jonathon cheering along with the rest of them, and I turn my craft to face towards home.

Post redacted by the Ordo Chronos

++LUNA EPSILON//HIVE COGGER++

The retreating cultists threw a makeshift barricade together along one of the mid-level streets. It was a canyon of a road, braced on either side by towering hive dwellings from which the cultists could rain down fire. At least until the enemy gained access and the complex would become a labyrinth of death and violence. But it was as good as any other chokepoint, and it was here that Mordecai chose to make his stand.

The barricade was formed of broken stones, an array of debris, and no small number of corpses piled into the mix. Behind it, tattered and panicked rows of cultists knelt behind the feeble protection, reloading their weapons and trying to pray away the sight that advanced down the road towards them.

A Malcador tank, trembling the ground, ran ahead of the penal legion forces, taking up the majority of the road and serving as an enormous shield for the forces advancing behind it. Its giant gun boomed repeatedly, blowing holes in the makeshift barricade and showering them all with bits of shrapnel and gore. Mordecai raised his shield to deflect a smoldering piece of iron, and leveled his hand towards the tank, mentally willing the Brotherhood to stand and fight in the face of the iron behemoth.

“Hold! By the gods themselves, they will advance no further!”

He felt a hundred eyes turn towards him, and a cold clench in his throat as death incarnate roared down the street. He had stood by Lazarus's side for years, but had never stood in the Father's shoes before the fury of the Imperium. He grabbed the nearest cultists and threw them back towards the line, running along the line and shouting at the cultists. His shouts caught their ears, and they faltered in their retreat.

“Hold! If it costs us every bone, body, and soul on this line, they will come no further than this!”

The cultists regained the defensive line, firing blindly but in massive amounts. The street filled with the chatter of guns and the boom of cannon fire. Mordecai planted a foot onto the barricade, feeling a surge of invincibility as one of the Malcador's shells seared overhead, missing their line by a matter of feet.

“No further!”

One hand-made missile, trailing coiling streams of acrid smoke and etched with a crude “FETH” on the side, spiraled wildly through the air. It screamed, whistled, and twisted into the tank's treads, ricocheting into a socket through either dumb luck or profane design. The tank's treads exploded out to one side, slewing the titanic war machine to the left. The barrel of its gun slammed into the street ahead of it, and the beast's momentum brought it nearly to overturn.

A heavy stubber round blew out the top hatch, following by a hail of merciless gunfire and a rudimentary grenade. The inside of the tank became at once a storm of hellfire and short-lived screams as it came to its final rest in the center of the road. The cultists sent up a roar of triumph, setting themselves firmly against the barricade and launching their arsenal at the approaching foe. Behind the wreckage, the penal legionnaires fell back, firing off blind shots over their shoulder as they retreated back to their fortified line.

Mordecai raised his fist, reveling in the surge of emotion and violence which rose about him like a fire. It felt different, it was a physical sensation of a rising tide, . Briefly Mordecai wondered if that was the Immaterium itself, answering the flood of fire and ruin which had erupted in the street. It was intoxicating, and he grinned behind his mask, wondering vaguely if the feeling was connected to the defiling ritual taking place in the sub-streets below. The cultists began to reload, and he let out a commanding shout.

“Hold them here! Not a step further!”

++LUNA EPSILON//MT GORGON++

Lazarus drew his hand back from the dragon's head, lowering his head and pointing towards the entrance to the cavern.

“Brother of the true gods. Come, we need your fire.”

The beast drew its head back, snorting hot, dry breath violently as it backed away. Lazarus clenched one fist, he did not have time to argue while the hive was under attack, but deference was the key to survival in these matters. Again he motioned to the entrance of the cave.

“Come!”

A disembodied voice roared into his mind, a wave of authority that nearly drove him backwards. It echoed within the bones of his skull with each syllable. “IT IS NOT YET TIME”

He lowered his arm, meeting the dragon's gaze with a clenched jaw and a dutiful nod, calmly accepting the answer. Lazarus was a true servant of the chaos gods, and if they demanded he stand alone in this fight, he would do so.

“Father!” The Drachen's voice echoed in the cavern, the brave soul having come as far into the mountain as he dared. “A call from the Hive! We have...we have visitors!”

The dragon slowly raised its head, melting back into the oppressive shadows of the mountain's heart. Lazarus allowed himself a small smile, and backed away into the cavern entrance. Perhaps they would not be as alone as he thought.