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P'fexilas stands aboard the deck of the Hive fleet ship balancing its massive stature upon two carapace armoured legs that end in hoofed feet. Its monstrous eyes stare hungrily down at the Space Hulk in front of their Hive Ship. Aboard this floating junkyard countless feeble prey meaninglessly bicker amongst themselves completely unaware of the storm of pain and death that approaches them in the Hive Fleet Sybaris.
Through the jumble of minds under its command P'fexilas, sees all, knows all. In a tiny corner of this gigantic airborne wreck an Terranian, adorned in blue armour and clutching a small metal canister in its feeble hand, was chocking and coughing on the last remnants of its useless insignificant life. P'fexilas grinned, bearing a huge maw full of foot long razor sharp teeth. The Lictor had done its job well, sneaking amongst these squabbling lesser races, gathering information, all the while defending the Hive that P’fexilas had ordered to be sent aboard in order to gain a stronghold in the labyrinthine passageways.
Inside the Hive thirty Tervigons sat breeding, amassing a swarm with which to wipe out all the life aboard this ‘Tomb Sanguinus’. However, Hive Fleet Sybaris was only in the early Stages of its invasion aboard the Hulk. The Hive Mind had instructed them as such. The Lictors and Genestealers were aboard gathering information and the occasional prey along with just enough bio-mass to keep the fleet going.
The Lictor creature lifted its head and the Feeder tendrils dripped with the last remains of the Terrainian (Human). It turned gazing down the long dark corridor system that lead all over this maze of prey. The Lictor vanished from sight, a shimmer against the walls on which it had effectively learnt to camouflage itself, waiting in hiding for the next morsel to fall into its lair.
About the ‘Tomb’ more Lictors travelled hidden and watching. Genestealers scuttled through the corridors invisible and inaudible snatching more prey from amongst their “safety”.

The Tyranid invasion had begun.
It was Time for the next wave of attack.

The world twisted in on itself, it felt like his melon sized fingers would burst as Saric grasped the rail. His mind howled. His hearts beat in counter point as the warp storm raged… the talons at the end of his skeletal arms couldn’t grasp the wall of flesh that was in front of him… and through it all the Storm Crow chanted, carving runes into the deck, into the air, his charms and relics clattering and chattering as they were wound in a complex dance that seemed the only thing holding the Eye of Belisarius together. With a last wrench the Warp spat the frigate out into calm.
Or at least relative calm... Crew where sprawled everywhere and even the hardened Wolf Guard escort stood grim only the mumbled chants to Russ and the All Father betrayed their uneasiness…
The mechanical voice of the Machine Spirit chanted through an eternity of faults and listed damage as a Skald would list the dead after a battle.
Saric grimaced. He grasped his head with both hands and dry retched. At least they were here! Wherever here was in this warp tossed corner of the Galaxy.

(OOC sorry for the short post I will post more before I go to bed!)





As he crawled along the spars of the outer hulk pazuzu marveled at the sheer mass of twisted ships and asteroids that formed the geography of the thing.


Picking up speed pazuzu leapt off of the spar and ignited his arched jump packs. As he shot through the air, his foot-talons clenched and unclenched, he felt free. When he landed on the next ship, an eldar void stalker, his head snapped around in a birdlike fashion. There! An enemy, someone to rend, tear, and kill.



Sprinting toward the heat signature, the raptor ignited his jump-packs, and drew his chainsword, he soared almost one hundred feet into the air and then dove. Streaking through the air he landed, claws firs on a tall, lithe, creature. As his talons tore into the thing’s chest and he hacked at it with his chainsword it twisted and slashed at him with scythe-like arms, the raptor was stunned at the resilience of the creature, it grabbed his head in both hands and pulled it toward its face. the night lord gathered himself and screamed, the vox alted screech already coupled with the unnerving scream that the bight lords were capable of, disoriented the creature for a moment. seeing his opportunity Pazuzu thrust his chainsword with all his impressive might and frapp'ed the creatures insides, with that, it finally died. He took a moment to see exactly what he had killed. It was a lictor. Leaping off and staring at the thing, pazuzu noted that it’s feeder tendrils were covered in grey matter. Snarling the Night Lord reached out a talon and slashed off the thing’s head. Demogorgon had to know about this.

The after image of the storm still played in his mind as the first howls of the banshees again took up there cry.
As he tasted the false air of the Eye of Belisarius’s atmosphere and stared out of the view screens ahead at his target he felt the beginnings of elation building inside him. An excitement he had not felt in at least a century started to pound though his veins and the Khymera took up their howl there grating voices blending with that of the banshees to create a cacophony of hate and longing…
They would have to wait, but he knew they would follow.
“Ulgar, Bjorn... Gather your wolves, let them ready for battle” he called softly. “Let us drink… let the Mead and Uisge flow like a virgin’s tears… for we write our names in the great saga’s today…”

The Death of the Lictor variant was a clear burst of visual intensity in the Hive Tyrants mind. The face a leering mask of midnight blue ceramite armour, a helmet mounted with leathery wing ornaments that arched out of its recesses and up like some provocative parade, The Night Lords. P’fexilas had dealt with these creatures before, savage as they maybe, none had ever stood a chance against his vast fleet. These so called experts of Stealth could not hide from his sight. Not run from his swarm, they will all be annihilated from this Space Hulk to feed his armies and push them onwards. The Flying Night Lord, as it was obviously so, would have to be disposed of in order for the Tyranids existence to remain in the dark shadows of this Hulk, nothing must know, not yet, not until the second wave was in effect. P’fexilas with a simple command informed the nearest brood of Genestealers as to the Night Lords whereabouts and of countless other splices of information that had been gathered by his fleet over the numberless Millennia of its existence.
The Genestealers obeyed the command without independent thought, incapable of such a concept. They dashed through the Wraithbone halls and passage ways in which they had been investigating, the innards of the Void stalker on top of which their new prey stood, observing the dying Lictor. They climbed scrambling like frenzied mutated spiders up between pipes and fragmented armour plates emerging through holes in the Wraithbone hull. Invisible to the Night Lord they stalked closer closing in around him. Low. Quite.
The Night Lord Raptor Pazuzu raised his head as if aware of their presence, staring straight at the nearest Genestealer out of his helmets lifeless, glass eyes. Suddenly, he pounced slicing his chain sword down into the Genestealers carapace armour. Shredding the bone like protecting layer and digging viciously down into the gooey organs and acidic blood of the creature. The Genestealer screeched in pain and hunger at being so close to the prey which it had been hunting, as the death throws of the first Genestealer died away in the emptiness of the Atmospheric shell around the ‘Tomb Sanguinus’ more Genestealers leapt at their adversary. One Genestealer was knocked backwards in mid-air by a terrifying blow from the Raptors chainsword, which had now warped due to the corrosive qualities of the Tyranids blood. Another sliced clean through the Raptors armoured legs with a violent rending blow with one of its front claws.
The Raptor fell hitting the floor hard still struggling against the third Genestealer which had now climbed onto Pazuzus back and was clawing and scraping at the jump pack. A bolt round pieced the creatures shoulder but it was far too late. The other Genestealers surrounded the struggling Chaos Marine and it was all over. A scream of horror and defiance was the last of the Raptors shattered spirit as he was ripped apart and harvested for his bio-mass. After they are finished nothing is left but a pool of bubbling liquid, The Genestealers skulk off back into the Darkness of the Hulk through cracks and crevasses. Leaving nothing but two pools of melted slush.

Demogorgon lowered his smoking bolt pistol, not paying heed to the now dead servitor that had dleived the message. Pazuzu’s armor had been discovered. Empty and partially broken. Techmarine Vulkaric was repairing it now. One thing had been discovered on the remains of the armor.




Genestealer blood, Tyranids. The Soul hunter was arriving in a few minutes time, he would know what to do. But the raptors were governed by a new leader now Graz’zzt. The nearly insane ‘Sky Stalker.’ Demogorgon had ordered a time of silence to mourn their fallen.




Havok commander Baphomet walked in. “my lord? We have found a ‘stealer nest.”
Demogorgon considered this, with a cruel smile on his face


he ordered. “How many daemons can Kardum summon without dying?”


“a small legion my lord.”


“he will do so, they will be a fitting honor guard for Talos Soul Hunter”

"Well met, Sister."

La' Haedras turned quickly, her two warlocks moving to place themselves between her and any threat, but they relaxed at the sight of another Farseer, taller but no less regal than their mistress, stepping clear of a side passage.

Unusually tall, and with her black hair hanging free down her back, you couldn't tell that this farseer had spent days on this hulk alone just by looking at her, she acted as if they had just met in some garden park, and spoke with an unhurried air, as if there was no danger. The Singing Spear in her hand glowing in the gloom like the runes that surrounded both seers.

The new arrival bowed to La' Haedras, "The Fates have been kind indeed to send some of my kinsmen to my aid. I am Eluna of Ulthwe."

La' Haedras stood from where she had been sat cross legged on a fractured pnael of metal work. She turned to the new arrival and gazed upon another Farseer. She watched the Farseer bow, and returned the pleasantry. "The fates have indeed intwined our destinys, I am La' Haedras of the Craftworld Alaitoc," she turned a hand to the two Warlocks stood behind her. "And these are my Guard, T’laric and Ariniae," the two Warlocks Bow at the mention of their names, still gripping tightly to there power swords in case of an unannounced intruder.

"How long have you been here in this hulk, sister?" La' Haedras asks with an inquisitive hint stretching across her light airy vioce. She gazes at the other Farseer awaiting a reply. The two Warlocks after straightening up return to their guarding positions on the edge of the pool of blue light.

(Trying a different PoV for the first part)

Skulking through the various ductworks Ribtearer as the Broodlord had come to calling him, heard the call....the call of the Hivemind, the great feeding was at hand, and it needed all its children to slaughter those who had come upon this place. Upon 'hearing' this Ribtearer knew where to start, a group of blueskins that were isolated from its brethren. A thousand paces from where these blueskins denned at Ribtearer saw through grating a group of 3 figures that seemed to hide almost as well as Ribtearer, almost. Crashing through the grate Ribtearer expected to land on one of these beings, to Ribtearers surprise the being leapt back before Ribtearer landed upon him. This however did not bother Ribtearer, for though surprise lost Ribtearer knew that victory was still Ribtearers, disembowelling the thing that had managed to avoid the ambush Ribtearer turned to face the one in the unique armor, only to find an odd group of rods pointed at Ribtearers head.

********************
Commander Darkblade was kneeling over Shas'ui Val's corpse he was shaking inside his armor, 'how could our technology have failed us to let the -now- debrained Genestealer ambush them and kill one of the few warriors left in his Cadre'. "Shas'ui, where one of these genestealers are many more follow, we must abandon our hunt." A pair of grunts of assent confirmed that they understood. Moving back Darkblade's scanners picked up more genestealers moving ahead to ambush the group, swearing under his breath Darkblade ordered the remnants of the squad to go down a corridor that had not been explored by the Tau. Moving down this corridor he saw that the scanners were picking up fewer and fewer genestealers, until finally the group came to a point where the scanners were not picking up anything. Slowing their pace and keeping an eye for anywhere genestealers could erupt from Commander Darkblade started noticing a disturbance in his Sensor array, it seemed static was coming from further ahead, moving ahead slowly the group saw a faint blue light up ahead, whether this meant the groups damnation or the groups survival Darkblade did not know, all that he knew was that behind them lay death.

(If Tau and the Eldar want to team up now would be a good time, though I can write something up if it doesnt work for the eldar)

"You have been here for half a century, with the might of most of your chapter, and you still have no clue what you are even searching for?" Marduk began to question the wisdom of this allegiance.

"Progress has been slow brother, war rage's constantly on this forsaken hulk, it is not as simple a task as it sounds. The Eldar are wise and mysterious in their movements and intentions. But we have one of their own now" Demogorgon grinned manically at the thought of the fear that grips the Eldricht being.

"Indeed, the smell of death and fear is rife onboard this vessel. The Dark Council know of the importance of this relic. That is why I am here brother. The Warmaster himself has need of this relic, and it is our charge to recover it for him. His fleets have been crippled after the Exalted withdrew from battle. And know he is coming here, I have no quarrels with the Nostraman born. And I look forward to meet a brother with such gifts, gifts inherited from the Corpse God himself, tell me, when does he arrive?" Marduk rested his free arm on his Crozius, merely a symbol of office at this point.

Marduk stood in the shadows during this conversation. He was gracious enough of a host to accommodate his guests. "Soon brother" he said with a grin.

“The Soul Hunter will b arriving in a few minuets time.”’ Demogorgon lowered his voice to a whisper “the relic is deep in the heart of the hulk, it lies past the base of the flayed ones. That is why we could not get it, we have been searching for a teleport homer to bring us there”
With that the warpgate shimmered, and Demogorgon removed his helm, revealing a pale face and Eyes as black as midnight. “The Soul Hunter has arrived”

Demogorgon watched as the prophet walked out of the warpgate and frowned around at the prominent chaotic symbols that adorned the great hall. “Ii appers that the ends justify the means brother Demogorgon?”
Demogorgon smiled slightly “why not use what powers are given?” Talos smirked. “to quote the Terren colloquialism. ‘different strokes for different folks.?’”


“It would appear so.” Replied the Terminator. Talos looked around “Greetings Apostle” he said to Marduk. “Likewise.” Answered the Dark Apostle tersely, and obviously uncomfortable with the non-believer.
Turning back to Demogorgon he asked. “Do you have what the despoiler needs?” “Not yet, there are…complications.”
“Very well, but get it soon. If you are in need of my assistance simply ask. I will leave Uzas and Mercutian here in my staid.”
Behind the Prophet several dozen chaos marines were emerging from the warpgate. “It appears that the gathering is underway already.” Remarked Talos “So it would seem.” Answered Demogorgon “I have a message from the despoiler himself.” Said Talos “Kill as many loyalists as you can.”


“It will be done.” Replied the terminator lord
As Talos exited the Heart of Darkness Demogorgon took stock of the first arrivals. Puss filled boils adorned the muck-green armor, and gasmask-like breathing tubes connected to the helms. Soulless round eyepieces stared uncaringly into space and rattling breaths emanated from pleghm-filled throats.


“Death Guard.” Muttered Marduk. “Disciples of nurgle.” Walking over to the apparent leader of the warband Demogorgon considered offering his hand but had no desire for it to fall off. “Hail brother Bharmu.” He said. The Plague marine took a long rattling breath and spoke in a contagion filled voice. “Well met, brother Demogorgon, Father Nurgle smiles upon this meeting.” “I welcome your band to the Heart of Darkness.” The plague marine nodded and turned to Marduk the Inheritor. “Hello Apostle.”

"Brother" nodded Marduk, " Nurgle holds you in high favour."he said sarcastically, Marduk despised these souls. Chaos is a tool to be used, not to be used by. Bharmu breathed heavily, his grip tightening on is bolter. He replied after what felt like an age, "Quite" he gurgled. The room was tense, "Well brothers, I must beg my leave." Marduk bowed to the assembled leaders. He put his daemon faced helm back on, and returned to his men.
Marduk activated his vox for a private conversation with the Nostraman. "We must speak again of the Eldar, in private. I may have a need of her."

"Lord, the men are ready on your word" came a voice like grinding rock. "Very good Gilgamah. We leave soon, the Dark Council has further interest in this hulk."
"And what of the Cursed?" growled Gilgamah. "We bring him, leave nothing that can be traced to us behind"
"Very good lord"

(I'm expanding on it soon))

"Brother Rahab, prepare the room."
Rahab replied in a deep, mechanical voice "Lord" The techmarine began to strip the room down to the bare walls. Pipes and cords were removed, and the room was left bare and empty.
Amon the Raven born was brought into the room in chains, his body was covered in runes and scripture. He succumbed to the warp completely, and was only held together with powerful seals. The sorcerors began the ritual, it would take alot of time and sacrifice. Marduk smiled.

"We march brothers, for the council"

After the Battle of Khorne bersekers and black templars the black templars came out winning but at a cost they lost 25 brothers.

"Brother-apothicary collect their Gene-seed and preform last rights." Said Feris in anger and fury.

"Yes my lord." Replied the Apothicary he kneeled down next to his fallen brothers and pierce through their power armour. Blood splatted up the arm of the apothicary. The first glass container with the purple-flesh knewn as the Gene-seed and he done this again 24 times.

"It is done Marshal." Said the Apothicary

"We won at a great cost." Said Castellan

"Yes we have but we will kill all chaos." Repiled Feris

“I don’t like him.” Muttered the plague marine.

“I expect the feeling is reciprocated.” answered Demogorgon “we will wait for the others, before going to war.” “who else is coming?” enquired Barmhu. “Black legion, World Eaters, Oracles of Change, and the Warp ghosts.”

As the plagued one moved off to test his manreaper against the lesser daemons kept by the night lords for practice Demogorgon went to check on his seer.
“Kardum?” he asked. “Yes, lord?” said the psyker, sitting cross legged in the chapel to chaos undivided, the smoke of incense drifting around them. “How many daemons have you gotten a hold of?” asked Demogorgon. “I have lost count my lord.” Replied the seer.
“when we are ready you may summon them.” “Yes, Lord.”



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



With an awful howling, flesh hounds and bloodletters streamed out of the warp portal followed by an ungodly amount of screaming, Red armored arch-helmed berserkers. Their leader, a massive man wielding a bolter in one hand and a daemon-forged bastard sword in the other, The World Eaters had come.

“up you get!”

eldar guardian lon’wain was pulled out of here cell with a mighty tug. Two VIII legion serfs dragged her roughly down the cellblocks corridors

“what Are you doing!” she screamed.

“shaddup!” yelled one serf smashing his autogun’s stock into her back. “You’re nuffin more ‘an a bargaining chip now!”

Craning her head she got a good look at her tormentors. One was a mon’keigh of average height, with long fangs in the place of canines, while the other was tall and lanky and sported a bionic arm. They both wore imperial guard uniforms with bat wings nailed over the Aquila and painted a deep midnight color.

“’old it!” said one. “They don’t want her for anuvver few hours right?” “Right…” said the other slowly

“well what do we do wif her until then?”

“guard her I suppose.”

“what do they want with her anyways?” asked one “some sort a sacrifice. She’s goin to that world bearer, the sorcerer.”

“sacrifice?” queried the tall one.

“Yeah…wait! look at this thing.” He said reaching down and grabbing her spiritstone.

“sacrifice to the warp, body and soul…not something I’d like to happen to me.”

“we’re here.”

Rahab opened the door to find the two mortals, his pupils dilated with the aura of warp energy. "Give Demogorgan our deepest thanks" his voice was distorted by vox bionics.
The serfs could not even look at the renegade Iron Hand.
Rahab grabbed the chains from the men, and slammed the door behind him.
Rahab took a few paces, and flew into a rage, he turned to the door a tore it open. "WHERE IS THE STONE?!" he roared. The two men were on the ground, one offered the stone with a shaken hand. Rahab grab his wrist and pulled him up. "Most gracious of you" he whispered as he grabbed the stone with his free hand. He released the serf, and walked back to the ritual.



"Oi! wher all da 'umies at?" roared a huge ork as he kicked a burnt corpse. "He ain't gonna be talking fer awhile hur hur" replied the biggest ork, this one was intelligent for an ork, the last thing to go threw his head was a shell, just before it detonated, spraying the hall. The orks were massacred, taken by surprise in a corridor, shredded by a hail of bolter fire. The terminators continued down the hallway, wading threw dead xenos. They covered 4 kilometers, and came to little resistance. The hulk was huge, almost the size of a continent. the warband continued in silence, not saying a word.

As the hounds of khorne were corralled and the bloodletters milled around shouting praises to khorne, the World Eaters leader, a massive marine wielding a two-handed blade as big as himself walked over to demogorgon. “WHERE ARE THE SERVANTS OF THE IMPERIUM? I SHALL REND THEM!”

“you will stay your blade for now Brother Asmodius. “very well.” Snarled the champion of khorne. “But my daemons thirst for it constently.” Demogorgon frowned. “Then send them after the Back Templars.”

"Boss! BOSS! Message from da fleet, der's somethin' goin' on out dere!"
Gorskar looked up, the mangled corpse of a guardsman littering the area by his feet. A small patrol, no more than thirty of the humans, but he had still felt it necessary to intervene personally. After so long without battle, Gorskar would take anything he could get.
And now what?
"What's dat? What's da message?"
The meganob paused, before spitting out the message with a mixture of battle-lust and frustration. His armour had slowed him down, stopping him from reaching the fight in time.
"Weirdboy Zag's sayin' dat he's got summin' big coming this way. I mean, he's feelin' it in da Warp, boss."
Gorskar thought about this.
"One of our lot?"
The meganob shook his head. "Nah, he sez he can't read it so well, like it's a big black spot or summin'."
Something about that sounded familiar. A big black spot in the warp...
Oh well, he thought. It would come to him in time. Now there was killing to do.
Only seven of the thirty guardsmen remained, and they had taken shelter behind a metal barricade, desperately trying to find a way out of there. This would not take long.
"KILL 'EM ALL!"
Roaring with hate, the orks charged forwards once more, screaming their war cries. The last guarsmen tried their hardest to fight back, but there was too many. They were buried beneath a tidal wave of blades and bullets and kicking iron-shod feet.

BIC:

After briefing his platoon commanders, Charkos dismissed the assembled men to their own businesses and set about cleaning his lasgun. Like all Ousians, he wasn't a vary pious man, and so did not spoke the litany of purification. Ousians weren't even thought such things. Whilst doing the cleaning, he came to think. Todays actions were...grievous. On many occasions today he had seen men doing extreme feats of heroism and the likes, and he had seen those same men killed within minutes of said heroism. The emperor did not watch over them, like the preachers told he would. It angered Charkos to be once more reminded of the inability of the Emperor to do material feats. One could only seek spiritual help with him, and that didn't always help.

Charkos knew there were other gods. Gods of which' servants he fought earlier. Those gods did manifest materially, in various ways.

Charkos begun to have doubts with the Imperium. He had been once more confronted with the way the Imperials throw their men in the meat grinder. He was sick of it, and when the time came, he would rise up, together with his company, and get other Ousians to embrace his way of thinking. Soon, all would see the greatness of Chaos Undivided.

hehe

dsmannen wrote:hehe

There is an off-topic thread for this game. Nonetheless, it is no more a place for spam than this thread.

BIC:

Cadet Commissar Heyligger oversaw Ousians of C company unloading supplies from a lander. The men were tired as hell, but somehow they still had the spirit to do heavy duty work. At least, that was what Heyligger thought they had or liked to think. In fact the men were pissed at him for volunteering C Company for this duty.

Heyligger mused a happy tune, certain of Imperial Victory, and certain of his ascension to full Commissar. He just had to survive this assignment, and he'd be one.

He rested his one hand on the grip of his laspistol, the other was held as a fist on his back, observing the men.

______________________________________________________________________________________________

Lieutenant Blach silently stalked the shadows behind Heyligger. Charkos had briefed them all of what he planned to do, and by Vrek, his company would follow him. Everybody liked Charkos, and everybody hated the Imperium for what it did to them. They all lived false lives, under a false god, and when the time came, The Ousian 21st would rise up, and declare their true allegiance.

Blach tightly clenched the large knife in his right hand. He waited for the signal to dispose of Heyligger. Charkos would send a single message to Blach, 'Chaos', the signword of the operation.

Killing Heyligger would be the first step, then on to further preparations. Of course, all would have to be executed stealthily, for they could not afford being discovered.

______________________________________________________________________________________________

Charkos weighed down his options once more. In one hand, he held a necklace with the Imperial Eagle, in the other hand he held a vox bead.

Joining Chaos would be a bold move, and would ensure the death of a lot of Ousians. But, on the other hand, staying with the Imperium would doom them all.

He remembered Ousia, his family, the things he used to do before becoming a guardsmen. None of those things he would do again or see again. He tightened his grip on the Imperial Eagle, and shut his eyes.

Standing up, his decision made, he crushed the Imperial Eagle with the strength of his bionic left hand and brought the vox bead up to his mouth. He spoke a single word that would seal the fate of 21st Ousian Riverine.

'Chaos'.

______________________________________________________________________________________________

Lieutenant Blach received the message, and sent a non verbal reply back to Charkos. A single vox click, order confirmed.

Blach slipped out of the shadows, knife in hand. He stealthily walked towards the Commissar who had turned his back to him. Closing the distance and bringing his knife in a murderous arc, he slashed the commissar's throat.

The job done, he cleaned his blade on the Commissar's storm coat. He looked in every direction, but there was nobody, other then those who already knew of Charkos Intentions, C Company, who witnessed the scene.

Blach got back to his feet, and sent another non-verbal vox message to Charkos.

Two clicks, Objective complete.

"Chaos..." Blach whispered.

As he waited for the Oracles of Change. And the black legion and the Demogorgon meditated, in the Chapel of the unholy the combined signs of the warp gods, the sign of Chaos Undivided adorned the massive tapestry in front of him. Staring at the sign, Demogorgon stood up. Walking into the armory he returned the helmet to his head and opened a small door leading to his personal armory. When he entered he lifted a small item off of a pedestal. It was a rosarius crafted into an eight-pointed star. Putting it around his neck he replaced his tusked helm, and strode out into the great hall. The plague marines were conducting drills, while Demogorgon’s own Night Lords were practicing stealth attacks on captive daemons, the World Eaters, in contrast were butchering the training daemons along with a night lord. Frowning at this marine’s open devoutness to Khorne Demogorgon increased the zoom on his helmet. It was one of Talos’s representatives, Uzas.



Turning his head, and looking around he took stock of the other thing. The in construction, salvage warhound and the massive cranes that were constructing it.




“Sir?” came the voice of a tactical marine. “What?” asked Demogorgon. “The black legion, the oracles of change and the warp ghosts are being held back sir.” “WHAT?” yelled the terminator lord. “They are being held in reserve for the warmaster’s next black crusade sir.” Demogorgon howled in rage and tore a section of bulkhead from the wall “THAT IDIOTIC FOOL OF A WARMASTER!” he screamed. “What we are after is worth more than all of the warp ghosts AND the Oracles put together!” Demogorgon needed to kill something. “Muster the seers! We need more troops. If any on this hulk are loyal to the Ruinous Powers That Be, they will be rewarded handsomely.”

".......In the flames of death we bring his name, the bearer of the Word, chosen son of chaos, Lorgar. All praise be upon
him." the passage read by Marduk a thousand times before would not rest his mind. They had been marching through the endless
hulk for days, they came across bands of xenos and humans, but still none gifted with the warp.It was then that Marduk noticed
the temperature dropping, slowly at first but increasing in speed. His breath misted as he tasted the metallic tang of the warp
through his filters. The Word bearers moved quicker, now with a sense of purpose. Gilgamah tore a door from its metalic hinges
and threw it to the ground.

Marduk entered the carnage. The room was littered with gaunts, a chitnous horde broken on the ground. Scattered amoungs the
icohor, Marduk could see the yellow armour of the Imperial fists. A door on the far side of the room was blasted open, by some
sort of melta based weapon. Marduk gave chase, his terminator armour splashing and breaking its way through the tyranid corpse's.
He crashed through the door way, and turned the corner. "Son of Dorn" he growled. "Traitor scum" replied Carnak, Epistolary of
the Imperial fists.

Marduk swung his Crozius up in a wide arc, but was too slow for Carnak, who dove backwards. They were caught in a narrow hallway,
barely enough room for the powerarmoured marine. But Marduks terminator plate simply pushed the hall around him, with little effort
Marduk charged, his massive frame throwing up sparks and cables dragged up from the walls. He smashed Carnak against a wall, and broke
his body. Marduk let Carnak slip lifelessly to the ground. "We have what we wanted brothers, now, back to the Heart"

BIC:

Charkos was relieved by the death of Heyligger. Now came the mustering of the men, but that wouldn't be that difficult. As on cue, Major Mortensen walked in Charkos' dugout.

"Chaos." Mortensen spoke.

"Major." Charkos said standing up. "How goes the plan?"

"It goes great, Boyo." Mortensen replied. "All other captains have been informed. There were a handfull of captains who...thought different then us. Of course they were disposed off.

Charkos nodded, and offered the major a cigar.

"My company stands ready sir." Charkos said. "What about the others?"

"The 8th Ousian Mechanized has the same point of view like us. They already joined us. We have sent troopers to socialize with members of the other regiments, and men are still pouring in."

Mortensen paused and lit his cigar.

"The other captains estimate we have about 3500 men in our new regiment. What will be the name of our new regiment is still to be decided."

Mortensen took a breath full of smoke in.

We'll be ready soon.

___________________________________________

The word of Mortensen's plan spread out all across the line. Of course, it was forbiden to speak of such things and as a result, it only spread within the likely minded guardsman of other Ousian Regiments. Operation Chaos was getting more and more support.

Ousian NCO's reported the deaths of an increasing numbers of commissars and other-thinking Captains, who got replaced by men favor of Mortensen.

____________________________________________

"Soon." Mortensen repeated.

"Indeed sir." Charkos replied with vile intent.

Warklaw was bored...that was never a good thing when you were thirty feet tall and had autocannons coming out of your waist...

Fortunately, Borgutz had come to relieve him of that boredom with a report. Warklaw had been satisfied with the negotiations he had conducted with Gorskar, the two had left in mutual agreement not to kill each other, that was good considering both were ork Warbosses. Now that he had the assurance that he wouldn't be fighting a war on two fronts, he could concentrate on the front. The ork nob in mega power armor, a force to be reckoned himself marched up to his boss with dark blood dripping off his armor, apparently he'd seen some action earlier. The nob looked up to his boss and mounted the battlewagon the rested next to Warklaw's giant foot so he could be heard.

"Wots the news Borgutz?" Warklaw rasped out of his voice box.

"Lots ov stuff ta see boss, lots of reports, chaos boyz is sneakin about everywhere, hell, deyz pushin up against ower lines in sum places."

"Dat so? Dat why you got goo all ova you?" Warklaw said with a smile that nobody could see.

"Yeah, just headin back ta tell ya bout it, dem kommando boyz sez dey seen dem sneaky grey skins around too, but deyz a wayz out and not eadin ere. Got a few reports of dem damn eldar too, ol Zappa sez he can tell were dem wierd eldar iz at, he sez dat deres a black spot in da warp too cant see past it, sez a lot ov his boyz went nuts when dey saw it, you know wot dat means bozz?"

Warklaw thought for a second, there was only one other time that old Zappa had talked about a black spot in the warp and it had meant trouble for Warklaw when it had happened

"It means bugz an lots ov em..." Warklaw said distantly.

"Well, da chaos boyz iz da ones oo iz snoopin around a bunch, deyz lots more ov em now and deyz all crowdin fer a fight." Borgutz said and smiled with his metallic jaw.

"Sounds like dem boyz needz whipped den..."Warklaw said turning to his retinue of dreadnaughts. "Mefinks it about time dey saw wot deyz up against!"

The surrounding dreadnoughts let out a loud WAAAAGH! Warklaw rose to his full height, looked down to Borgutz and growled.

"You tellz da boyz at da front dat da boss iz still da boss an eez lookin fer a fight, dat otta put da fire in dere belliez. No more slackin off, stomp everyting and kill anyfing dat fights back!"

With that, Warklaw strode away, his other dreadz behind him. their footfalls could be heard and felt a mile away and the sight of such a procession of orky might filled many of the boyz with a new spirit.

Gork and Mork marched to war with them today...

(more to follow soon)

“my lord!” yelled an exhausted serf. “what?” snarled Demogorgon “The-the” panted the serf. “out with it man!” “the orks, sir!” said the serf. “they are preparing an attack!” demogorgon groaned “this is not a good day for me. How do you know?” the serf replied “Sister malacanthet! The daemonette that she sent to spy on them reported it back!”
“RAAGHHH!!!” Demogorgon screamed in rage. “all soldiers! Prepare for war! Right down to the cleaning servitors! Have Kardum summon his legion! And bring me the apostle!”


“it w-will be done sire!” stammered the serf, and hurried off. “Kardum!” in the center of the chapel the seer was chanting to himself. “summon your daemon legion!” “but my lord! They will only be minor daemons!” Demogorgon replied “Do it!”


with a flash and a bang Kardum summoned the daemons. “they are Khornate, my lord, a few hundred strong, bloodletters and flesh-hounds.” He said. “it will do.” Replied the terminator lord. “have them attack. Now” at this the seer pointed out “but they will be killed!” the night lord regarded the psyker coldly before donning his helm.“I care not for the lives of daemons.”

"Too me brothers! We bare his name!" roared Marduk, his voice booming through inbuilt vox systems. While attempting to make their way back to the Heart of Darkness, Marduk and his men were ambushed by orks. They killed them in droves, the Terminators shredding any who came near with a salvo of high callibre shells. "Brother Gilgamah, make us an exit!" shoated Marduk. Champion Gilgamah nodded and ran over to the sealed air lock. His powerfist thuded dully, and ineffectively against the foot thick wall, he activated his chain fist, and with a ear piercing screetch, cut the hinges from the door.

Seconds later, all the air was sucked out of the room, orks not lucky enough to be able to grab something were pulled into the void, the others could only manage to hold on, as the terminators finshed them off. The were too heavy in their sophisticated and corrupted armour to be effected by the change in pressure. Carnak, still in chains, covered in protective runes was dragged along the floor. His body shattered and broken by Marduk, his mind dulled by chaotic powers.

Finally, after cleaning up the mess at HQ Marcus returned to gather his possessions from his tent. He was going to move to HQ to oversee the running of it. This way he could not only support the imperial forces until he made his assault but he could also investigate any links between the forces that had attacked him and the imperial high command; a hunch said that it was an enemy of his in the top brass. He met Robur as he approached the tent.

"Disturbing new sir.."

"What is it?"

"Take a look for yourself." Robur lifted the door flap to Marcus' tent. Inside were several mutilated bodies "it's a mix of astarate and guardsmen sir."

Marcus spotted the stars of chaos, carved onto the skin of several of the victims "Chaos, so the rumors are true. We have traitors on this hulk!"

Sergeant Domini walked in through the open flap, mumbled something along the lines of "god emperor" twisted outside and threw up before shouting at Marcus "why the hell aren't you disgusted by this!"

"Disgusted? Yes, shocked enough to throw up? No. I've seen worse in the haemonculi dens on Fgord V." Marcus proceeded to gather the few things that were not soaked in blood. He sighed as he saw his cloak on the floor covered in blood as well. A shame, it was his favorite cloak. He didn't wear it in battle because it was impractical and because of the chances it'd be damaged but now the fine velvet, fur line cloak was stained blood red; ironic really. "Robur, burn the tent once I've left and bring me a new cloak at high command." With the meager bundle of things Inquisitor Marcus hitched a ride of imperial HQ and the tent, and those that lay within it, were burned. None would know their names and knowing the Imperium, none would care...

------------ Imperial High Command ---------------

The command center was as busy and noisy as ever. The corridors were filled with aides and officers moving back and forth to deliver orders and news. Each room was filled with conversation, clicks from machines and solemn men pouring over maps. Marcus was close to the lord general's office, to tell him of his arrival, when Captain Cecil passed by. "Cecil!?" Marcus turned with surprise "what are you doing here? I thought you;d be with the grenadiers."

"There's been a meeting of military officers in charge of military formations, as the officer in charge of the militant arm of your task-force I was summoned..."

"To be fair I'm technically the military OIC of my task-force but any-who..." Marcus interrupted

"As I was saying sir, I was summoned to discuss the recent threat of chaos on the eastern front." Cecil looked uneasy, a strange look for a man as rough and grim as him.

"Threat? I understand there are chaos supporters on this ship but I wasn't aware the threat was in the east, I assumed it was here on the central."

"No it isn't. There are disturbing reports that the Ousian 21st have turned traitor but they are yet confirmed."

"21st? That's lieutenant Charkos' lot isn't it?"

"Captain now sir, and yes."

"Shame, always thought of him as an outstanding officer."

"He may still be loyal sir."

"pfth... If he's loyal he won't have survived the obvious coup de'etat and he's dead; if he's turned traitor then he's going to die at our hands or the orks. Either way he's dead to me."

"You make it sound as if you were good friends?"

"Barely knew the guy, met him once a long time ago and read a few reports where he was commended but apart from that we don't know each other. I must be going now, if you need me you can find me here." Cecil saluted and marched off, Marcus kept walking to the lord general's office...

-------- Lord General's Office --------

"I hear the eastern front is failing" Marcus said as he walked in.

"It either is falling to the orks or to chaos, it's been a problem since we landed." The lord general didn't even look up from his paper work.

"You could seal it off." Marcus suggested as he sat into one of the comfy leather chairs and stretched out.

"What and abandon all that we've... oh make yourself comfy why don't you." The general looked up and raised an eyebrow disapprovingly.

"Don't mind if I do... anyway, it seems the front it tainted by chaos and I know quite a few draconian Ordo Heriticus inquisitors who would argue we should blow the entire place to the warp and back because of this."

"Inquisitor, our objective is to blow this place to the warp and back."

"Oh, I sometimes forget."

"Inquisitor, last time we spoke you were a lot more respectful."

"Last time my favorite cloak wasn't soaking in a pool of blood and I hadn't been set up."

"Set up?"

Marcus sat forward "Earlier today I was ambushed by well armed, well trained infantry supported by APC's. The whole thing stank of a set up and the only people who knew I would go there were those in the imperial high command."

"Disturbing..." The lord general began,, stroking his chin

"I've heard that word enough today."

"Well, even so... I guess you've made enough enemies."

"Huh? I can't think of anyone..."

"The lord commissar, the admiral of the fleet by your incessant nagging for more air support, the tactician you lectured on how to do his job, the majority of the officers in the dragoons for taking their grenadiers and that female major and her CO for trying to chat her up, then trying to chat her CO up, if I'm correct."

"To be fair, that last one was down to me trying some of that Ousian drink. I have to say, that stuff is damn strong."

"As an inquisitor, shouldn't you have more discipline?" the lord general said very disapprovingly.

"Discipline is for the commissars, I deal in trust, if I can't trust my allies I can't do my job."

"Still..."

"It is getting late and I must be off, you know where to find me sir." Marcus half waved, half saluted as he left.

"Damn imbecile." the lord general grumbled....