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(OCC: Sorry about the absence, real life demanded i returned and give it some attention for a while.)

Eluna held up a hand to respectfully silence the other Farseer, "Your Pardon, but we are observed, sister." She said calmly, and stilled the warlocks with a thought, " I sense no hostility, and if that were false, we would already be under attack."

She turned and locked eyes with the Invisible Tau Commander, "Reveal yourself, or perhaps i will take offense to your eavesdropping."

It was interesting, how all of a sudden everyone seemed to want a piece. No sooner had Skargrim wandered back to the comms area, than he was back with yet another message. It seemed that the orks under Warklaw were under attack by those weird humans, the ones with the spikes. They, too, were on Gorskar's list; it mattered not if his favourite warriors were loyal to their human god or not.
With a grin, Gorskar marched to his command box.
"OI! Lissen up, runts! Get to yer wagons, we're leadin' da charge! Show dis Warklaw how we kills our enemies, pile a mound o' skulls fer 'im ter get jealous over! WAAAGH!"
Putting his comm-link down, Gorskar leapt into his Battlewagon, his meganobz already inside, waiting for him.
He signalled to the driver, and roared as the engine leapt to life.
"Right, lads, I need t' show dis Warklaw da bus'ness end of my Waaagh! You gonna let me down?"
The meganobz roared a negative, as if it needed to be said.
"Good! Get ready, den, cause we're gonna bury dem 'umies in da bodies of their mates!"
Gorskar roared, and the battlewagon sped up.

P’fexilas watched as the swarms of dark blue gaunts pour out through the fleshy walls lining his lair, in the Space hulk. Thousands, tens of thousands, maybe more P’fexilas looked on as the Tervigons begin proceedings to making troops for the third wave. The tide of small chattering aliens washed out through the Hulks cramped corridors, searching for prey in all directions. The gaunts cascaded out from the nest, covering every corridor, passage way and tunnel big enough for them to fit through. A flood was approaching the enemies of the Tyranids and they will all be hard pressed to survive it.

The Pheromone trails left by the Lictors, near enemy locations, were what drove this sea of talons into a frenzied hunger that forced them onwards through the instinctive emotion to run, escape and hide. They were driven on by the hunger for more prey, the gut deep yearning for bio-mass, flesh to feed upon, screams to rejoice with. Every individual gaunt was desperate for a fight.

The gaunt waves pushed out further, examining every crevasse and open pipe, giving the data back to P’fexilas who memorized it all, learnt everything and mapped out the entire Hulk in his expansive mind. The mysteries of this junkyard in space poured into his mind and through his senses.

The gaunts crashed into; an opening filled the green skinned creatures, an expansive hall with a mass of dark armours Humans, an elaborate section of hall way down in the depths of the hulk, a hall full of heretical symbols and iconography and all the tunnels around.

The fight had been taken to the enemies and it would be a fight to remember for all. 5 million gaunts had set out from the hive nest, yet even spread thinly they out numbered every force they came across.

The Battles begun.
The Tyranids second wave had hit its targets.
And if they falter they will not survive.

(And finally, the moment you've all been waiting for. The march of the greenskins.... )

Warklaw was sure he was quite the sight. A thirty foot mek usually was, one that had a gigantic bosspole sticking out of its back turned quite a few orky heads...

One that shouted oaths to Gork and Mork in a voice that could be heard for miles all around got the undivided attention of every ork within eyesight...Like the pied piper, Warklaw and his dread retinue were calling orks of every shape and size to their side. Blood Axes, Goffs, Speed Freeks, Bad Moons, Deathskulls, all had long since put aside their differences to be a part of Warklaw's WAAAGH and now they marched to war like he did. Every boy that wasn't already fighting put down whatever they were doing and answered their bosses call. Soon, just as Warklaw reached the extent of his territory, he had behind him several warbands ready to make an unholy racket.

Off in the distance, Warklaw could see groups of wagons and other orks also beginning their own attack, Warklaw knew that must have been Gorskar, ready for a fight, ooh the merry hell they were going to stir up today...Warklaw didn't need a voice amplifier, his voice was quite enough to be heard for wide spaces around him by itself.

"Tuday we do da work ov Gork an Mork! Tuday we flatten anyfing dat stands in ower way! Wez gonna do eet cause wez da orks an wez made ta fight, wez made ta win! Wez dun muckin about now we show da umiez an everyting else dat greenest iz meanest! Dem udder boyz dunno what kinda hell dey stirred up wen dey came ere, less show em!" Warklaw shouted, beating his metallic chest as he got himself and his boyz into a blood maddened fury. From the depths of his chest, he summoned the loudest utterance he could contrive and raised his arms in the one cry that was guaranteed to make their enemies fear them.

WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!!!!!!!!!!"

The sound of Warklaw's eruption elicited the same war cry from every throat that could utter it. Warklaw was surrounded by all manner of dreads, a multitude of kans, squadrons of battlewagons and looted tanks of all shapes. Together, the two forces, Warklaw's own and Gorskar's formed an almighty spearhead of green death, the two met as they charged out, their foes finally revealing themselves, hordes of chaos cultists and daemons poured out onto the corridor of the hulk, they were backed up by a few scant marines, Warklaw laughed, it would be a race between him and Gorskar to get to those spikey boyz first and crack em up real good...

Already the opening shots had been fired as the lines were drawn, but as Warklaw and his retinue continued through the wall of small arms that the cultists and daemons laid down, it was obvious that the forces of Chaos were about to a new eye of terror ripped into them via the pistoning klaws of Warklaw's new body. His first step into enemy lines killed a dozen cultists who were too slow to get out of the dread's way. That was when the ripping cranking blast of Warklaw's autocannons opened up which simply buried the chaos ground forces under a hail of crude bullets. Swathes of them fell before Warklaw and he hadn't even lifted a hand yet. Warklaw laughed at how the cultists either stupidly continued pumping shots at him or ran in terror, the daemons were another thing, they advanced no matter what. Warklaw was curious, what did the inside of a daemon look like?

He found out shortly after, he picked up two or three of them in his massive hands and crushed them as if they were bugs, they twitched and writhed as their unholy guts spilled over his massive claws...It seemed that daemons looked a lot like the spikey boyz on the inside, lots of bubbling black stuff and other goop. Warklaw was wakened from his musings by the cranking of tank treads in front of him, it seemed the cultists had called in reinforcements in the form of tanks and other such vehicles, Warklaw let out a booming laugh as he raised his arm, aiming the rocket launcher mounted on it. Just like everything orky, the salvo or rockets went everywhere but generally it was like a gigantic shotgun which managed to claim two tanks and leave a sizable crater. The other tanks immediately switched their guns to Warklaw and began taking shots, a few found their mark and stumbled the great beast but most bounced off of massive plates of armor. This annoyed the already pissed Warklaw however, and he decided he wasnt playing with these gits anymore. He turned, advanced as rapidly as his huge legs could carry him through chaos lines, heedless of the fire pinking off his armor and the squish of bodies under his feet. His first stomp crushed a tank underneath his massive foot with little effort. His next step missed the one he was aiming for but flipped one next to it on its back. Warklaw bent down and picked up two other tanks, one which the crew jumped out of, or at least tried to, the other which tried madly to rev out of reach. Warklaw held the two tanks over his head and, much as a toddler would when playing, he crashed the two into each other and flattened each one, tossing the carcasses away towards the chaos forces where they exploded violently.

Rockets streaked up at him, many missed, ones that did hit were replayed in full with other rockets and hails of autocannon fire. The chaos cultists had seen enough, most of them were either running or dieing as it was anyway, the orks fire chased after them. Warklaw's fun had been spoiled and that annoyed him.

"What you fink's gotten inta dem?" Warklaw heard the voice of his second come over the dread's communications. Warklaw was just about to answer when he saw it, tides of blue chitin, headed straight for the green line.

"Wez gotz bugs! Lots ov em, get em ladz!" Warklaw boomed and revved up his autocannons as he advanced toward the new threat. Gutkrunch would have a hell ov a time cleaning his dread after he was done at this point. It was then that Warklaw 's line crossed toward Gorskar's who was also switching targets.

"We take car ov deez damn tings and den me and you can ave doze spikeys. Dun tink Iz gonna let you ave all da fun..." Warklaw roared to the other warboss, any of his other words were drowned out by the ripping chatter of his massive autcannons as they plowed into the nid swarm. No doubt about it, this dread had its perks.

Darkblade stepped from the shadows of the light and deactivated his stealthfield.'Clearly you are not of the greenskins, I have never seen your kind, what are..." A screeching behind the group that Darkblade had not heard since he was a young firewarrior fighting Tyranids. 'Let introductions wait, hormagaunts aproach our position.'

Bloodletter lord Mephasm swung his blade at the next isectoid creature to leap over the living wall of muscles and jaws that the fleshhounds had made. Screaming in the language of chaos itself the daemon cove the tyranid in half. The flesh hounds were stemming the flow of most of the creatures. But the dozes that got through, either by leaping or killing the hounds. Were swiftly cut down by the Naked Slayers.
Behind them, havocs were pouring fire into the mass of seething creatures while massive barricades and walls were built. The daemons of khorne distained such ways of war. War was to be fought at close range, where the blood and the screams assaulted your senses. “BLOOD FOR OUR LORD!” screamed the blooded one. A hormagaunt launched itself at him and before he could move was hacked out of the air by a lascannon. Hissing in disappointment the daemon moved down the lines and ordered fleshhounds and bloodletters to the points where the lines where weaker. The whole ensamble was taking place in the great hall of the
Heart of Darkness. Faintly, Maphasm could hear the screams as the ork taskforce was butchered by the material creatures. As a warrior Mephasm was disappointed in these things. They were the most incompetent beings he had ever fought. But somehow there seemed to be a driving presence, with a greater tactical mind, driving them forth.



Suddenly a ripple moved along the lines of the tyranids and several bloodletters fell, convulsing. Glittering showers of beetles were spewed from the symbiyotes clutched in stubby claws.


The orks had attacked first, with the cultists falling back just as planned. But before they could spring their trap. a massive swarm of tyranids had appeared.



Demogorgon was furious. If that moronic ork had attacked their lines in that kan of his he would have died in seconds. The massive plasma blastgun on the scout titian was meant to vaporize the ork leader. But now he was out of range. The great hall was a total of three miles long and two wide. Meant for massive processions.

With a loud roaring sound, five flatbed trucks shot out of the formation. Each carrying ten of the fifty blood pact cultists in the massive army of serfs and traitor guard. The trucks stopped some fifty meters from the unwavering lines of daemons. And disgorged their warriors, while krak missiles and stubber rounds fired into the melee turning it into a mass of chitin and churned green flesh.


The infantry of Khorne marched behind the daemons and fired volley after volley into the mess. The tyranids and orks were clambering over mounds of their own dead to reach the daemons and most of them were fighting each other anyways. The two massive armies were tearing each other to shreds.
The last metal plates and girders were laid on the thirty foot high barricade, with the gates to the chapel ripped out and fused to the thing with meltaguns, and forming the gates of the barricade.



With a massive, WAAAGH!!! Almost half of the orks charged for the lines of daemons, who snarled in delight, raised their blades and bared their teeth. Before the frontlines could reach them though, a massive whirring and straining of hydraulics could be heard and with a buzzing, the orks front troops were rendered down into sand-sized specks of meat. Looking behind him Demogorgon saw a veritable god. The warhound titian was firing its massive vulkan-mega-bolters and turning the orks and ‘nids into what one wouldn’t be surprised to see in a disposal. The massive plasma blastgun discharged and hundreds of orks vanished in a blue flame. “WAAAGH!!! WARKLAAAW!!!” screamed the orks, seconds before going nova. With a hissing and stomping the ork vehicles and kans slammed into the daemonic lines, tossing bloodletters left and right and crushing fleshhounds under wheels, the orks hanging on the back whooped and fired their ramshackle guns.


Behind the Night Lords, Death Guard and World Eaters on the massive battlements, the looted tanks fired over the wall. And directly into the ork vehicles. Most of them were obliterated but several unloaded their cargo in a peculiar fashion. The stormboyz on the back shot off and landed behind the chaotic lines. Too bad they landed in front of the berserkers. “KILL! MAIM! BURN!” and the orks were slaughtered to a man
The night lord turned his attention back to the front and discovered that he orks were beginning to push the daemons of khorne back. The massive tripod-mounted assault cannon next to him roared to life and slashed the orks to ribbons. But that could not stop the WAAAGH!!! The orks were either crushed under their compatriots of mowed down by incessant fire from the battlements. But they were still pushing the daemons back. The tyranids were cutting up the greenskins on the other side, while the night lords carved them up like weedwhackers to butter. The daemonic liens were thinning and the bloodleters were beginning to waver.



^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ with a howl of hate, Mephasm led the horde of khorne on a charge. They plowed through the orks and tyranids. Trying to get at the leader, each one wishing to tear him from his war-coffin and take his head .”BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!” he raged. “SKULLS FOR HIS THRONE!”. He bisected an ork wearing the pauldrons of an astartes chapter without a thought and impaled a hormagaunt on his hellblade. “RAAARGHHH!!!” he screamed. There! The ork warboss! Leaping onto the top of a kan he leaped for the massive titan. When he landed he grabbed amass of powerfeeds, and tore them out. Climbing further up he reached one of the autocannons. He slashed the electric feed und tore the weapon off of its mounting. Leaping to his left he hacked of another autocannon with his hellblade. Snarling he climbed up to the veiwport and attempted to stab it, his hellblade slammed into the metal jaw and flew away, impaling a smaller kan and sending it crashing to the ground. Infuriated, the bloodletter lord stuck a clawed hand in and lashed about, after a few moments he felt his claws slash flesh. And with a popping sound, dislocate. Howling I anger and dangling uselessly from the Megadred’s viewport Mephasm never saw the klaw coming.

The command center was in chaos, reports of bug attacks everywhere apparently. Marcus knew how the tyranid's worked, this wave was of gaunts; while numerically superior they would easily fall even to lasgun shots. As long as men didn't run then victory was assured, though the cost would be high in blood. Information also was coming through that the orks had assaulted the chaos positions. Marcus smiled: as his enemies weakened each other, he would grow stronger. A fresh plan had formed in his mind...

As he walked by an air vent he heard a rattling. "Everyone quiet!" He shouted over the din.

... clatter, clatter ...
... clatter, clatter ...
... clatter, clatter ...

Marcus drew his hellpistol. "Everyone out!" He shouted and started to fire randomly into the air ducts. Guardsmen stationed as body guards did the same and a few officers drew pistols and riddled the ducts with small holes; greeny yellow ichor dripped from a few. The remaining officers and tacticians fled towards the command bunker, a large room central in the complex that provided a place of safety. It had its own air supply even.

Marcus ran up to a inter-complex vox and radioed the lord general. "Sir, be aware we may have tyranids in the complex."

The sound of gunfire filled the reply "I know so if you don't mind..." and the general hung up.

'Disturbing' Marcus thought then ran to help...

The daemon-thing turned and howled, it's hide slick with orkish blood. It brandished it's blade high in the air, and barked an oath to it's gods.
Gorskar lifted it as easily as a man might lift an angry child, and tore it in half.
Behind him, the meganobz charged, their combined tonnage crushing the remaining warp monsters to paste even as their klaws scissored off limbs and shattered mutated skulls. The first wave had slammed into the chaos lines with force of a hurricane, and already wagons and trukks had cut deep into the enemy formation. Gorskar watched as a nearby trukk blew apart, hit by the 'umies' heavy guns, and he cursed as he saw yet more burning hulks littering this area. Still, enough of them had got through to make things very, very interesting.

A huge blast of light erupted a few hundred metres from his position, and Gorskar covered his eyes. When he could see again, he saw what had caused it, and his maw broke into a toothy, predatory snarl.
One of the human gargants was here. It was only a little one, but even so, a gargant was a gargant.
Gorskar ran to his battlewagon and picked up his comm-link.
"Skargrim! Dere's a 'umie gargant out 'ere! Get Wurrdakka ter get 'is Big Hittas ready!"
"Right, boss! Want me ter get the fighta-bombas ter give 'em somethin' ter remember too?"
Gorskar laughed at the idea, a huge booming sound.
"Yerr, that'd do great. Get to it!"

Outside, the battle was, for the most part, swinging in the orks' favour. The Night Lords had better armour, better guns and unparalleled training, but they simply did not have the numbers to halt the horde.
Boss Ugskraga howled as he beat a human cultist to death, his brutish face alive with hate and rage. Typical. That fat runt Skargim got all the credit, whilst the real fightas got none. Deep within his heart, Ugskraga thought of himself as the true second-in-command of the horde - and perhaps even more. Still, there was killing to be done here, and that took precedence. Ugskraga grinned. He was probably a better fighter than Skargrim too.
A vague chittering caught his attention. Was that more humans? It didn't sound like them. He paused to listen, straining his ears over the din of battle. The chittering grew steadily louder, and now there seemed to be a short of shrieking, too.
Then he saw them. A tide of - bugs, were they? - charging towards his position. Around him, the human cultists ran, and even the orks began to fall back, shooting their automatic weapons as they did so.
Ugskraga didn't budge. Yes, there were too many of them. Yes, he could not win. But to any greenskin worth his teeth, that didn't matter. Ugskraga would not back down. He hefted his favourite shoota in his hands, and planted his axe into the floor in front of him, ready for when he'd need it. No, real orks did not run from battle.
"Come an' get some, I gots plenty for da lot o' ya!"
The last the orks, retreating to their second line of battle, saw of their leader was a small, defiant green figure, roaring defiance and swinging a choppa murderously even as the tyranid swarm buried him.

Over the sound of claxons and vox casters droning there warnings Storm Crow could hear singing...

...and where there was singing there would be drinking and that always got the Wolf guards blood boiling...

the space around the hulk was crowded there seemed to be more ships in orbit than he could imagine. Imperial Navy Cruisers, Several Imperial Fist Battle barges, what seemed to be an Armada of Kill Krusas and if the black spot in the warp was anything to go by there was a Tyranid Hive Fleet close by...

The warp storm worried him. He had expected a disturbance due to the massive ripples an object the size of this hulk would cause being spat out into real space, but the warp seemed almost malignant, almost as if there was a school of pike in a small pond roiling the waters.

He reviewd the forces available to him and quickly realised what he had intended to be a quick strike and recover would not work here... he frowned as he made his way to his quarters. They where still an hour out from the Hulk itself so he had some time... time to plan.

Demogorgon howled into the vox "get the titian out of here! The orks will attack it!" "right away sir!" came the garbled reply

"All demolishers. Fire!" he ordered, and an en entire mob of orks was reduced to burning skeletons. As the warhound entered the massive chapel, its safe house. Demogorgon fired his stormbolter from the battlements of the barricade he saw that the orks would need to mount them to win. The walls were simply too thick to destroy. Even by plasma cannons. Several kilometers away a zzap gun fired and he blast went straight for the terminator lord. His rosarious absorbed the power and fed it directly to his armor. An ungodly howl arose. Something akin to the screams of a man who had rippers bursting out of his guts. Another green tide shuffled slowly toward the orks these ones taking fire on full auto while not even flinching. Plaguebearers. At the second they reached the ork lines they dropped the shambling pretenses and cut into the greenskins with all the ferocity of a force-5 hurricane, hacking off limbs, Strangling, bludgeoning the orks to death with torn off appendages. And fighting. Some lost there heads and kept fighting while some lost both arms and used their teeth to rend their enemyes. But most of them dragged the corpses to behind the night lord’s wall, and piled them in huge heaps, along with dead tyranids and dead cultists alike.


The death preist begane chanting and slowly a miasma of sickly green enveloped the bodies. They began to stir. Plague zobies. The shambled out of the gates of the newly named city of ‘Noxengard’ and began tearing into their foes, led by a massive figure in terminator armor wielding a manreaper. Barbhu.














(note:Barbhu is not up for killing. But the champion that follows him is! [named Skalret] Hear that Gorskar?)

Saric stood to the side of the circle of runes scribed on the floor as Strom Crow chanted in it's centre. Ensuring that the fat candles spaced around it did not falter, his mind trying to wrap around what was happening.

He Knew that they were standing on a plassteel deck in the bowels of the Eye of Belisarius but that is not where they were... around them spread what looked like a web of light connecting, shifting. Some pure white, others tainted with tendrils of sickly green and purple as well as several that seemed to be made of purest black highlighted in reds and yellow, there presence only obvious from where these line seemed to black out others.

Ley lines, the psychic lines connecting all living things to the warp and through the warp. He watched Sigurd with new found awe and just a little fear. this display went far beyond anything he had heard of. The lines emanating from the Strom Crow seemed to be the discharges from a Plasma Blaster they pulsed with energy streaking into the void, seeking, touching....

..and just almost out of his hearing and sight there seemed to packs of twisted beasts circling... and what seemed to be a sepulchral choir of banshees and banished souls singing and screeching in counterpoint the chanting of the Storm Crow. He knew he had been captured by the great psychic mind with in his master and was being carried along like a passenger. Rushing along the lines of power they sprang across the void towards the Hulk an entire menagerie of twisted beings following them seeming to mock or encourage his master calling out to him. Saric clung tight to his sanity as they dived down to a dull glow.

They stood in a vast cavern and around them Guardsmen scrambled to find weapons as he? no a man shouted orders and grasped his power sword and ran to bolster the lines as a horde of Gaunts flooded into the cavern...

...and she? … the warlock glanced around, covering the Farseer with its armoured bulk as a small armoured figure pumped a stream of shots at an advancing horde of more Tyranids...

...he reached forward and grabbed the bouncing Troks cab? no wait he glanced over at the'ead Weirdboy as he screamed curses at 'em spiky boyz...

Saric shook his head as the vision faded. his eyesight dimmed and his head pounded again as he took in his surroundings, Sigurd Bloodfang kneeled, slouched in the centre of the circle of runes clasping Fjalnir his Rune staff in both hands. He looked up:

"There are more powerful psychic signatures gathered in one place than I have ever experienced before outside the Allfathers Throne room.... We will have to handle that threat... Chaos is strong here and the roiling’s in the warp mean that an open Warp Gate is there and in between there seem to be bright shafts that can only mean that the Eldar have shown an interest..."
“…and then there are still the Orks.”

Where was Ugskaga? Without him, Gorskar thought, the missing boss' warband was breaking apart. A new assault of warp things had torn the heart out of Ugskraga's advancing boyz, and to make things worse the dead ones were getting back up and fighting again.
Gorskar growled. Just like everything else, he had to do all the work himself.
"Boss! Fighta-Bommas comin' in!"
The warboss roared in appreciation as the crude aircraft swept over the heads of their targets. Moments later, their payload hit.
The explosions were tremendous, the plague creatures torn apart and the dead once more silenced. Several of the craft, hit by vengeful anti-aircraft fire, tumbled and corkscrewed into the ground, adding to the various fires and explosions already littering the area.
At their centre, a larger, armoured human could be seen. Gorskar howled. The man was wearing the armour of the warriors!
"Dat one! Dat one there, get me to 'im!"
His driver nodded, and the battlewagon lurched into life, carrying both Meganobz and Warboss to his target.

Shots bounced off the tank's hull, and it lurched as heavier ordnance impacted on it's heavily armoured prow. Gorskar didn't care; the tank had once belonged to the armoured humans, and it was proof against such fire. The driver roared.
"Hatch goin' down, boss!"
Gorskar screamed a war cry, and charged, his meganobz following.
The champion of the humans turned, his armour slick with blood and pus.
"Come then, greenskin. I am blessed by Great Nurgle himself!"
"You talk too much, 'umie"
The human dodged Gorskar's first blow, a massive swing that would have removed his upper body. He retaliated, sliding a knife into the warboss' side. Gorskar yelled; the knife was incredibly painful, far more so than it should be. Acid burned on the blade as the champion prepared for another swing. Gorskar smashed the knife from his hand with a swing of his shoota, the acid eating through the barrel.
The human would pay for that.
"You cannot win, beast. Your head will make a fine trophy, filledG with my choicest poisons and sealed with wax. A true weapon for Skalret to bring about yet more delicious plague!"
Gorskar spat.
"Funny fing. I was jus' thinkin' the same about you."
With a roar, the Warboss kneed the man in the stomach, and brought a massive elbow down onto the back of his neck. Once more the knife stabbed, this time into his thigh. Gorskar stumbled, blocking a swipe at his neck, and seized the human's arm in his klaw. For a second, servos screamed.
Gorskar wrenched, and tore the arm from it's socket.
The man did not fall, and leapt forward one last time, fist lashing out. He screamed in rage.
Gorskar took the punch, and kicked him to the floor.
"You definit'ly talk too much."
With a roar, the ork punched downwards, smashing the champion's helmet and pulverizing his skull.
"Guess I'm be settlin' for yer shoulderpad, den."

The hallways echoed and shuddered with noise. It seemed like it was coming from all directions, the sound of battle. Marduk and his men kept marching, dragging the broken librarian. They retraced their steps back towards the heart. Marduk raised his fist, he heard something, the sound of scraping getting closer. "Brother Atryu, let judgement run as flame."

Atryu lumbered infront of his brothers, lifting his massive heavy flamer, and aiming it at the dark corridor. They stood in silence as the scraping noise grew in volume. The longest time passed before the first bugs were spotted. First two or three turned the corner, then a wall of chitinous horror. Marduk and his kin opened fire, shredding the gaunts to pieces. But still the came, bounding over their dead, being pushed by the tide behind them. They slowly crept closer, Atryu lit the hallway up, burning flesh and bone with a searing bright heat. The terminators did not stop firing, gunning them done as they burned. A full canister of fuel was used up before they were alone. The hallway a burnt stew of bugs and melted iron.

"Come brothers, we must make haste. The hulk stirs with movement and ambition." The warband continued down the hallway, Marduk lifted the librarian onto his sholders, he didn't want the smell of burnt xenos to affect the awakening.

“AAARAAUUGHHHAAA!!! HAHAHAHAHA!!!” screamed Vespar as his thunderhawk hacked ork aircraft out of the sky, and shot down the larger hallways beyond. “Inheritor?” he called over the vox net. “I have been tasked with bringing you back to Noxengard, it is under attack by orks and tyranids.”

“Inh..r I ha....been tasked wi.. ing....back to Noxengard, ....is un..r attack b...ks a...d......nids.”

"Tell your master I shall join the battle when I see fit, until then my brothers will give what aid they can." Marduck had finally arrived back at the Heart. His goal was close now.

"Champion Gilgamah, lead your men to battle, I shall join you momentarily."

Gilgamah nodded. The dreadnoughts honor guard followed him, dragging the dreadnought, chained to a grav platform.

"Lord Demogorgon, where do you need us?" said Gilgamah into his vox, his voice like boulders crashing against each other.

“There is a mad ork warboss raging about, but he killed a plague marine champion, so I wouldn’t mess with him. We are in need of reinforcements in front of the gates!” Demogorgon roared over the slamming of artillery and the chattering of small arms. Closing the vox-line he went back to the task at hand. The fixed artillery such as plasma cannons and earth shakers was a nonstop roar, sending green and chitinous limbs everywhere with each shot. The cultitsts were manning the battlements along with war-servitors , while the plague zombies and bearers dragged corpses into the dark city to be reanimated and pushed back into service.





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Barbhu swung his manreaper in a gory arc, killing an entire mob of boyz in one go. Slashing the weapon across a deff dread the entire ork vehicle rusted and dissolved in a second. The manreaper was possessed by a great unclean one, a greater daemon that was the avatar of father nurgle himself. Raising the scythe in a two-handed grip, he brought it down on the battlefield, and from the oozing fissure it sent, a small army of nurglings and plaguebeares crawled out, seizing the dead and dragging them back to the City of Night, or mauling the enemy before being cut down themselves. The possessed were slaughtering without a thought, slashing the ork infantry to pieces. The plague marines were taking dozes of rounds to places such as their heads and guts and not caring about the damage wrought upon them, as it was only minor. charging into the fray with several sentinels piloted by serfs behind him he roared his battlecry. “DEATH TAKES ALL!”

The three Thunderhawks sped towards to looming entrance to the hulk , sandwiched between them the sleek Valkyries in House Belisarius colours seemed to dart glide, dwarfed by their astartes cousins.
AA batteries on ships and lighters standing off from the entrance tracked the new arrivals casually. The Machine spirits had already interrogated the incoming craft and identified them as friendly, but in these tense times no one was taking chances.

Pandemonium was an understatement when it came to describing the command post. Couriers rushed everywhere, vox casters blared and servitors moved through it all marking the maps and tactical displays with whatever scant information was coming in from the front lines. With the defection of the traitors leaving the left exposed as well as that idiot Inquisitor striping badly needed troops away from the line they were hard pressed to keep a stable front. If it was not for the imposing legions of the Imperial Fists they would have been wiped away before the ork and traitor scum like blades of grass before a tornado…

And now this… the Tyranids had struck without warning, from every direction. The General fingered the field dressing on his arm.
The fighting had even reached here or more truthfully “here” had reached the fighting… it was chaos and until the dust settled no one would be able to tell what was happening… the Guard’s unofficial motto came to mind: “staying alive was the best method of survival” now if only he had some reinforcements...

Corporal Fredrick screamed into his Vox: “Gamma platoon please repeat last transmission” again the garbled response “Krrt…whee zzzt we are… zip weeee plea… brrrt ments!” the static and interference had been building for the last few minutes… the auspex was useless, the vox network almost just as bad.
He brushed the first snowflakes off the back of his neck and turned to his lieutenant? What the feth? Snow? Glancing up he saw frost and ice building on the ceiling of the chamber and then the first arc of lighting forked across the chamber into a wall…

Brother Sven guided his Thunderhawk, Frikki’s Fang, with a sure touch of the controls.
Under normal circumstances he and his crew would by singing the Saga’s as they flew into the Krakens maw, but today there was grimness, a tension in the air that he could taste. The tang of ozone was heavy in his nostrils las if he was standing in the middle of the greatest thunderstorm on the tip of the Fang and the reason for all of it was beneath his cockpit in the assault bay.

“2 minutes out” he snapped into his vox bead.

The voice that came back was tight with menace and Sven could almost hear the hurricane winds pour out with them:
“Put us down amongst the enemy and then return to the air and offer whatever support you can to the guard.”

Looking forward through his view screen he took a last look at the melee unfolding in the massive chamber ahead. It looked like a kicked ant hill, rivers of chitin collided with storms of las and stubber fire but just came on flowing forward with an inevitability of a lava flow into a fjord.

“Guns free” he called on the intercom and felt more than heard the gunners start to track targets. The Machine Spirit powering up the weapon systems and feeding information to his control alter.

His servo harness whined as it moved across the glowing runes checking the status of his ship.
Glancing forward as he glided though the looming entrance and felt the first discharge as arcs of lightning started playing across the Fang’s hull and across the chamber almost seeming to seek out targets, blowing holes in the ranks of chitin. Grasping his wolf tail talisman he began chanting under his breath a warding against witches and the fey folk…
by Russ he hated sorcery of any kind, even if it was being wielded by one of the most revered members of his Chapter…

Only the Wolf Guard in there Hulking armour seemed not to care and sang at the top of their lungs, competing with each other to be heard above the din of the Thunderhawk and each other so that Russ and the All Father would hear their voice and grant them favour in the battle to come…
Bjorn flexed his shoulders and gripped the crackling haft of his Thunder Hammer firmer… it was good that they should sing.

Hero’s would be made today… after all it was 10 of them and the Venerable One against a swarm of the enemy. He grinned.. Good odds he would say, even a fair fight if they left the Venerable one behind!

Gorskar snarled.
Tyranids. So that's what was holding up the left flank.
"Fighta-bommas, hit dem bugs next! We needs space ter breathe!"
The comm-box crackled in acknowledgement, and a moment later, the planes returned with a fresh payload.
It was this flank that was in greatest danger of falling, and Gorskar would not stand for it. As a new round of explosions tore apart the first group of advancing bugs, Gorskar triggered a new comm channel.
"Warklaw? Where are yer, dere's a whole bunch o' bugz and 'umies 'ere what needs killin'!"
Gorskar didn't bother waiting for an answer.

Outside, greenskins chanted and bellowed, as the Big Hittas arrived. A battalion of looted Leman Russ tanks, upgunned and armoured, rumbled towards the front line and the fortress. This was Gorskar's ace in the hole.
The Warboss grinned. Let's see the cowardly humans hide from these.
"Saddle up, ladz, we's gotta get rid of these bugs on our sides!"
The wagon trail charged headlong into the tyranids and hordes of cultists alike, shells shattering corroded power armour and chitinous plates, and bullets cutting through the enemy. Gorskar felt a crunch and the tank lurch upwards as something was pulled under it and flattened. He laughed; he'd forgotten how fun it was.
As the orkish force prepared to renew their assault on the Chaos fortress, the Russes opened fire; their shells blasted parts of the city to rubble, and the gates buckled slightly under the onslaught. Now, if the second force did it's job properly, Gorskar thought, the Russes wouldn't have to bombard the gate any longer.
"Kaptin Rukkar, youse in position yet? You gots da charges ready?"
The vox crackled.
"In position, boss. Goin' silent from 'ere."
Gorskar grunted.
If Rukkar's kommandos couldn't blow the gates from the inside, then he'd have to rely on the Russes. Still, the Kaptin was one of the best at his job; he doubted the Chaos boyz would know the kommando attack group was there until it struck.

Snarling, Yeenoghu fired the reaper autocannon down the massive shaft, the bolts painting the walls red with tyranid blood. Around him, six other terminators were firing with their respective weapons. The loud buzzing of a rotary assault cannon resounded around the battlefield, mincing bugs to a bloody pulp.
“Kill them! For the Night Lords! For Curze!” A roaring filled the chamber, as the dreadnought Jormungander fired his heavy flamer down the passage, and began ripping tyranids to pieces with his lightning claw.



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Jormangander was a oddity among the dreadnaughts of the night lords, many of them were not in fact, insane. But he was. He had died over three thousand years ago and was entombed inside the fighting coffin, were he had been killing for millennia, intentionally turning mad when a flamer of tzeentch possessed him. And turned him quite insane. Along with preferring flame based attacks.
“EVEN IN DEATH, I KILL.” He proclaimed as a twisted parody of the imperial dreadnoughts. “I WILL FIND YOU, XENO LORD!” “I WILL TEAR YOU! I WILL REND YOU!” he screamed out of the grox-vox mounted on his coffin stomping down the corridor he crushed gaunts for miles, and liquidated them in swathes of flame. He had been searching for ages when he found it. A small group of warriors, providing the much-needed synapse for the xeno thralls. Roaring in anger, hate, and madness he purged them from the universe in unholy flame.



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Demogorgon watched in utter confusion as the tyranids suddenly started tearing at each other. Or fleeing into the orkish lines, ripping their way through in their mad haste to escape. It was as if each xeno had suddenly gained itself a consciousness and realized the futility of their war. As they fled they utterly decimated a full half of the ork hordes, even though Demogorgon knew that it was only a taskforce before streaming into the range of the plasma cannons and earthshakers. None survived.

“sir! Leman russ tanks!” the walls shook. But with only tanks they would need hours to destroy them. Demogorgon smiled. “All according to plan.” He said to himself “sir?” asked the night lord. “tell baphomet to fire, andd to not stop until all those tanks are destroyed! Lascannons and missil launchers!” “and get me in contact with the world bearers!” we need them to take out those tanks!” “Yes, my lord!” said the marine. “wait, Kardum has been dying to do this. Tell him he can open the rift.”

As grazz’zt crawled down the rafters he saw green shapes slither through the premade gap in the wall and grinned ork kommandos. They were ducking and rolling. Believing themselves to be concealed, while in reality they were only making themselves as conspicuous as a greater daemon in the imperial palace. Smirking he whispered into his vox. “Blood for the blood god.” At this, the entire group of world eaters charged out of the chapel and dove into the green kommandos howling in rage “BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD! SKULLS FOR THE SKULL THRONE!” the kommandos yelped in surprise as they were butchered. It was a good thing that his lordship had decided to consult tzeentch before the battle. He thought.

EDIT: double post

The templar’s Marched down the hall chanting

"No Pity! No Remorse! No Fear!"

The chant was interrupted by the howls of the warp beasts. The black templar’s were ready for this their guns loaded and ready, swords and maces glowing with power and chain swords revving at the ready. They stud there for 20 minutes but nothing happened.

"Why don’t they attack?" Asked Castellan Leman

“They are trying to find the weak first. BROTHERS STAY TOGHTHER.” Said Feris

The templar’s stayed ready. Then a group of hounds of khorne burst from the shadows. The larges one had a head in its mouth. It was a guardsman’s head.

“BROTHERS FIRE AT THE WARP CREATURES SEND THEM BACK TO HELL!” yelled Feris

The templar’s aimed their bolters, flamers and plasma guns at the daemons and fired they chanted as the fire NO PITY! NO REMORSE! NO FEAR! As they sent the creatures back. The beast screamed as they were set back to the warp.

“Where did they come from?” Asked Leman with his sword ready.

“Only one chaos faction can summon them….Word bearers. A word bearer Apostle.” Replied Feris.

Leman’s face dropped and Feris noticed this knowing that the Castellan knew about this word bearer.

“What’s wrong brother.” Asked Feris

“This word bearer killed my friend and Brother. I will purge him myself.” Replied Leman

The templar’s walk in search of these traitors.

The fighting outside the Heart was fierce. Orks were assaulting the walls in force, hundreds of thousands of greenskins crashed against the Chaos stronghold, dozans dying every second as shells and bolter rounds exploded in the horde. Great plumes of thick oily smoke belched from the dozans of looted tanks, the noise was deafening as the guns fired salvo after salvo at the walls. The massive bulk of a dreadnought crashed into the first tank, tearing the ramshackle vehicle apart in rage, his vox amplifying his war howls over the guns. The orks inside the vehicle tried to flee the chaos possessed engine, but were caught in a fire storm spewed by its heavy flamer. Gilgamah and his company followed, gunning down any ork caught in the maze of vehicles. Unprotected ork shells were caught in the firestorm, earth an metal were thrown high into the air, shrapnel shredding down a dozan orks and 3 brothers. Rahab followed the destruction, salvaging what he could from his fallen brothers.

The destruction didn't go unnoticed, any ork close enough to hear the explosions rushed over, in the hope of a good fight. Waves of orks assailed the brothers. Dozans fell to bolt and flame, dozans more to the Champion Gilgamah, who rushed straight into the tide. Ork choppas crashed onto his armour, causing little damage, his chainfist cutting down orks each swing. The tide faltered, the marines held back, firing at any ork they saw as their champion held the tide. The dreadnought smashed aside a pair of lighter vehicles, charging into the horde of boyz, slaying them with each movement.

Rukkar had not charged out into the base of the gate like those Kommados he'd sent as a diversion. His wisdom had been rewarded; not only had he avoided a sudden death, those rival kommandos would no longer be able to get in his way.
Silently slithering through a series of ducts, Rukkar and his remaining hundred operatives moved closer to the sap point on the gate. Here, the big bomm they'd brought would wreak the most damage; with luck, it'd weaken it enough that the gate would come crashing down.
However, that involved getting past the guards.
There had been one in the rafters, some sort of spotter. Rukkar kept an eye out for him, in case he returned.
Sliding out of the vents, Rukkar slowly made his way through the shadows, pausing every now and again to examine his surroundings. They appeared to be in an upper gallery overlooking the gate. Nearly there; their target was the keystone.
Rukkar signalled to his boyz. Another distraction.
A detachment of thirty kommandos broke off, and leaped out of a culvert some two hundred metres away. They would hold the enemy up, distracting them long enough that Rukkar could set the charge.
Rukkar got to work.

(This next post is dedicated to Harrab, because he used his eldar future seeing powers to forsee my epic win over a warhound titan.)

Warklaw was fully aware that he wasn't in the fight. In fact, every second he wasn't just made him more and more angry. After that spikey chaos boy had ripped into his dread, he'd grabbed him, ripped both his arms off and then torn the diminutive warrior in two in a shower of blood. then, with as much coordination as he could muster, Warklaw began walking backwards and firing the whole way with both rockets and his good autocannon. Fire went wild and he punched holes in the chaos lines. He eventually made it back to his own lines, his dreads in tow. The battle might have been going badly for the orks if it weren't for one simple fact....

they were continuously being reinforced and the chaos boyz were not. There was no stopping the green horde, they poured and poured out of the ork side of the hall. As Warklaw made it through the fortification walls the orks had erected some time since, he growled over his vox.

"Gutkrunch! Your lot bettah be ere ta fix dis kan! Warklaw roared as he stomped toward a set of scaffolding that had been made for Warklaw's use. As he strode up to it, mekboyz began swarming over the scaffolding, doing their repairs on an instinctual level; rivetting plates of armor over damaged ones, ripping out frayed wires and replacing them, and so obig mek n.

"Dun worry bos, my lads got you covered...Oi, look at dat! Itz borgutz an iz boyz, dey comin wiff dem Lootaz!"

Warklaw saw them as his big mek shouted; a battery of looted basilisks and leman russes were advancing to the ork line, the ork tanks charged, intent on joining the battle, while the artillery pieces set up at positions in the back and began shelling the warp out of the front line. Craters began appearing by the dozen in the chaos line as the shells eventually found their mark.

"Urry it up Gutz, I wanna be in dat scrap! I'm gonna get stuk in fore I'm dead by Gork!" Warklaw raged and began to wirthe in his scaffolding.

"Ol up bozz deyz almost dun, I knowed ow much you liked dat axe ov yurs, so I had da boyz whip ya up sometin, deyz puttin it on yer arm right now."

Warklaw looked down, his left arm had been replace just below the elbow with a giant chain blade, not different from the one he used to carry around but much much bigger.

"Oh, i'm gonna have a fun time wit dis." Warklaw said to himself.

"Youz all good boss, got ya a new guns and everyting, an look at dat Borgutz got imself a new toy!"

Warklaw heard through his internal vox as he bagn stomping back towards the fight. He saw a sight that stirred his orky heart, standing atop a blue painted, looted humie tank was his mega armored second in command Borgutz. But it was no ordinary human tank he had found, Borgutz was pointing his power klaw at the battle from atop a looted Stormblade, that was sure to wake the dead...

"Its a guud day ta be an ork!" Borgutz yelled up to Warklaw as he strode beside the tank with a hearty chuckle.

"Everry dayz a guud day to be an ork, Borgutz!" Warklaw announced, adding a booming WAAAAGH! for emphasis and raising his new mega chain blade arm. Soon the second orky wave was back at the front, and the chaos forces had been almost completely supressed byt the fire laid down by the heavy ork vehicles both in front and behind Warklaw.

"Dun you worry your ead Gorskar, Iz back, I'll alwayz be comin back fer more!" Warklaw shouted into his vox as the other Ork warboss shouted about his whereabouts.

"Borgutz! take care ov dat gate, da boyz needz ta pay deez spikey boyz a visit all personal like!"

With a shout and a good crack across the skull to the tank's commander, Borgutz ordered the Stormblade, now alight with fire from its sponsoon weapons and blood slicked treads from rolling over both tyranids and any boyz that were too stupid to get out of the way in time, to fire its main cannon point blank into the gate that seperated the two forces.

A blinding, deafening shot of plasma jetted out of its main gun that vaporised the strong gate and melted it like butter. The tank was totally immobilized and smoking from its shot but it had done its job and battered in the front door. Warklaw was there at the front, the nids in the area were pretty much gone at this point, leaving the orky flanks unmolested and letting them focus on pushing forwards. Warklaw' new blade arm cranked to life and filled the hall with the echo of unreasoning violence. All three of his weapons were going at the same time; his autocannons ripped, his rockets boomed, his blade arm whirred, wherever he walked, His dreads followed close to him ripping things apart that he missed, all the while, greenskins poured into the breach behind him and fighta bommas flew overhead. The orks may have been outclassed and died in the thousands but thats what boyz were for, this was a war of numbers and it was a war that Warklaw and Gorgutz had definitely won.

Warklaw's eyes searched for the umie titan that he'd seen vaporize his boyz earlier, he'd bring that thing to its knees if it killed him...There! The spikey humiez were trying desperately to pull it back but it was big and slow, kind of like Warklaw, but Warklaw was definitely smaller than it, no matter, he'd still take it out. He motored his legs as fast as they would go, his new chain blade in the air. the Warhound had its back turned to Warklaw, its one mistake, the driver proabably thought it was safe, but the sudden breakthrough had caused it to be in danger, slowly it was turning around to adress the new threat. Warklaw new if it got a shot at him that would be it, he'd be as blasted as his other boyz that got turned into dust were.

Warklaw was determined not to let that happen, he pushed the legs of his dread past safe speeds and bounded towards the turning titan, his dread was about two thirds its size but Warklaw wasn't scared he'd beaten bigger things than him before. The Warhound was almost all the wya lined up and Warklaw had only a few paces left, this race of wills was coming down to the wire...

Finally with and orky scream, Warklaw laucnched his dread at the Warhound which fired its weapons...

The blasts winged Warklaw's dread, vaporising his right arm. Warklaw yelled in anger, now, quite literally, disarmed, he wasnt going down though, not by a long shot, the blasts of the warhounds two guns had injured hte warbos but he was nowhere near dead. His momentum still going forward, Warklaw's dread collided with the Warhound, its bulk hitting the titan squarely between its legs. Both the machines toppled over in a great crash of metal and were still. the event was so monumental that both sides looked on in awe at what had happned...

Slowly, one figure rose out of the smoke of the crash, its chain arm sitll whirring madly, Warklaw lifted a WAAAAAGH! to shake the heavens and plunged his blade arm deep into the head of the prostrate warhound titan and ripped it off with a tug of his arm. The sight filled every ork with pride, their boss, their god had just beaten the humiez own, they couldn't lose, as long as one ork still stood and one ork still killed, they couldn't lose...

(I have a gnawing feeling that some people are gonna have a problem with this but I'll leave it for now and i'll be happy to change it if Dark things its off or anything like that...)

Larzas stood at the gate with his heavy bolter. Demogorgon had said that the orks were more clever than they were given credit for and that if the other kommandos were a diversion, to keep ready. There was an explosion off to the left. “what the-?” muttered a cultist before another explosion sounded, “get out there! See what’s happening!” snarled the brother-sergeant.

“Yes sir!”

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as the others ran off for the explosion. Raptor commander Grazz’zt enebled the optical zoom on his helmet. The gate
exploded.


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Demogorgon was fed up. he was done playing with these orks. They had killed his titan. The chaos gods NEEDED this base. He spoke a single sentence into the vox “all units…magna-clamp” every solider down to the servitors engaged their mag-boots. “Kardum…open the rift.”


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With a horrific shrieking of tortured metal the floor opened and gave way to the swirling miasma of the warp. Thousands of orks instantly lost their souls as they were consumed. Kardum looked at himself sadly “such is the price of victory.” He murmured to himself. With a horrible noise his armor grew blood red. Within the dead titan an entity of unimaginable power awoke. A bloodthirster. It had not been awaken in 500 years. It was Glaur’ung


The father of dragons.


With an awful noise the 5 story tall daemon tore out of the titian and hurled the megadred across the room. An axe materialized in its hands an it screamed

“I AM BECOME DEATH! DESTROYER OF WORLDS!”

it tore into the orks like a plasma gun through wet paper. Thousands more died before it reached the dread. Taking it in its remaining arm It held it up in the air. The dread fired all of its guns. The bloodthirster dropped it and a titanic battle arose. At the sight of the daemon fully half the orks ran.

Forwards.

“WAAAHHHGGGG!!!” they bellowed as they charged the warp rift closed and left a massive hole in the ground. most of the orks tumbled in as the artillery resumed firing and the battle was joined again. But this was not to be. The orks had gained nothing from this and would gain nothing. The chaotics all fled behind the massive guns. And the void shields that had been looted from the ships near the Heart. Everything important including all the important places on the ship was behind the shields. “Kill them all.” Snarled the terminator lord. The single group of servitors in a bunker behind the now useless wall did what they were made for. The plasma reactor to an old imperial ship was overloaded.

BIC

Reports were coming in from everywhere. Orks attacking chaos, nids attacking both, and the Imperial Guard would feel the brunt of the attack soon. The Imperial Camp was in disarray. It didn't matter to Charkos, all Ousian Riverine allive were convinced that worshipping Chaos was better then the Emperor. A lot of men of the 127th Heraklian Dragoons also joined their cause.

The 'traitor' army was now 7000 men strong, and had a lot of tanks of various designs. Leman Russ Battle Tanks, Hellhounds, Demolishers, Chimeras, ... Too much to sum up.

Reckoning this the right time, Mortensen declared the true allegiance of the Ousian and Heraklian men. Soon, other regiments would join their cause, for the promise of freedom from the shackles of the False Emperor was tempting.

Mortensen got his vox officers behind their networks, and soon all 'traitors' were aware the time was now. As one, thousands of men and hundreds of tanks rose up and started killing loyal servants of the Throne.

Charkos led his platoon, together with that of Pulver, towards the tent of High Command. The chain of command had to be eliminated if they wished to stand a chance against Imperial Retribution.

Suddenly there were 'nids all along the lines, but the Heraklian troopers kept most of them at bay at the first line of defense. Charkos assembled men came across a group of loyal stormtroopers, and both sides immediately looked for cover. In the opeing seconds of the fight, Charkos lost four men to the storm-troopers' guns.

Charkos crouched behind a wall of sandbags, switching his lasgun to full-auto.

"We can't stay like this." Said Pulver. "Go ahead, take your platoon and head for the command bunker. I'll engage the storm-troopers."

"You're right, we can't delay, but I'm not leaving you." Replied Charkos. I'll take ten of my men and flank 'em from the right."

Pulver nodded, and ordered his men to cover Charkos as he took a mob to the right. The tactic ran smoothly, non of Charkos flanking mob went down, and Pulver confirmed two killed storm-troopers. With the barrage of fire, the storm-troopers were pinned down, and so Charkos easily made it to the right flank. Of course, they were storm troopers, and were prepared for such a thing. They caught Charkos mob by surprise, and three men dropped to the ground, dead or wounded. Charkos pressed on, however, and led his men into hand to hand after ordering a barage of frag grenades to force the storm troopers down. By now, the carapace armoured troopers were decimated down to six men, and were shaken due to massed firepower. Charkos' mob easily cut the stormtroopers down in melee. Charkos rammed his way in a carapace armored warrior, and slashed his machete between an unarmoured place. He hacked the trooper's arm, and then stabbed the blade in the storm-troopers visor. The brawl was over quickly, and charkos looked around and saw his mob finishing off the shaken storm-troopers. Five of his men he had led on the flanking attack, had died. Five good men died, but at least they died for something they believed in. Chaos.

Charkos linked up with Pulver and the rest of the trip to the command bunker went easily for them. within five minutes they reached the command bunker, but it was already sealed shut. High Command was probably in a state of awareness. Were the High Commanders aware of their uprising? Charkos wondered, but it'd just had to do with the attacks all around the hulk. Either way, Charkos was right. With the sudden uprising of thousands of guardsmen, High Command had fled their tent, and chose to hide in their bunker.

"Cowards!" Charkos cursed. "Robin, get some men to place charges at the gate!"

Charkos pointed his bloody machete at the gate as to hurry his men on. Corporal Robin immediately set about getting his engineer team ready. Robin had some talents with explosives, and so he was places in charge of the Engineer squad of the platoon. Robin had 5 Combat Engineers under him, and they immediately set to work placing charges. It all went smoothly...

Until one of Robin's men dropped dead, in the middle of setting explosives. Charkos heard a whistle sound, and saw where the fire came from. The Polios 7th Infantry was still loyal, and they were staioned not far from here. A platoon's strength was charging straight at them. Blowing the whistle was an officer, decorated with a chest full of medals and waving a revving chainsword forward. directly behind him was a trooper holding the platoon banner. The platoon wore brown battle-dresses, and yelled at the top of their lungs while charging.

"Get to cover!" Charkos yelled. "Protect the engineers!" Death to the False Emperor!"

Charkos sheated his machete and opened fire with his lasgun on full auto. In his burst of fire, two men directly behind the officer and the banner bearer both dropped dead. His men kept pouring fire in the 50 man platoon, but they kept on coming

"For the Emperor!" The officer shouted. Firing his laspistol. A rooper next to Charkos, who he recognized as trooper Haiko fell to the ground, the las-beam hit his shoulder. It left a vile burn mark, as the low powered pistol scorched the man's shoulder.

"Stand up trooper." Charkos said. "Wear your scars as medals of hope. Stand up and fight!" he yelled, firing another burst into the charging mass of guardsmen. Haiko got up to his knees and started firing, single handedly. Field Medic Tolin immediately set to work dressing the wound. Haiko wasn't bothered by this however, he just kept up his fire.

Ousians dropped, Polians dropped, yet the horde of loyalists kept coming at them, sure of victory.

Charkos let out a furious warcry, picked up by his fellow Ousians, that would have made an Ork ashamed, and the Ousians unleashed a might volley of las into the assaulting Loyalists.

Demogorgon watched as the hall was consumed by a fiery light. The orks were dead almost to a man. Somehow the one armed megadred had chased the bloodthirster into another hall and was fighting it in there tens of thousands of the remaining orks were fleeing. No doubt to regroup. But they would find nothing. Nothing in this base. All would be gone by the time they had returned. The Heart was not the only night lords ship here.
Looking around at the post-apocalypse demogorgon saw barbhu casually stride thought the mess. His army of daemons dragging as many corpses as they could find. The bodies were uncountable. Demogorgon knew deep down that he had only done the equivalent of removing a hand of his enemies, and that he had not killed their warlords. And the only way to stop them from obliterating him was to either make a deal with them or to utterly annihilate them. He would think on this at the Serpent Of The Black sea, the night lord battlebarge, fused deep in the hulk. But when he completed the errand for the despoiler he would come back and break them. The warp gods did not like those who opposed them. but this was no victory.

WARORK93 wrote:(This next post is dedicated to Harrab, because he used his eldar future seeing powers to forsee my epic win over a warhound titan.)

(*interlocks fingers* "Just as Planned" )