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The Necrons landed at the co-ordinates where the Tomb Complex Entrance should have been. In it's place, there was a tall, but decrepid building on top of a small hill. It looked like it could have been a hospital at some point.
"Vargard to Skyhammer" voiced Caldrek, using the mental link that served as a Necron Vox to contact his Dynasty's flagship. Nemesor Tokarn, the Dynasty's Phaeron, had found the ship's name whilst digging through it's computer files. It turned out the Skyhammer was one of the best ships in the entire pre-heresy fleet that would evolve into Battlefleet Gothic, carrying an experimental weapon system. The Necrons had used the weapon extensivley in the 10 Millenia that they had commanded the vessel, ranging from destroying Imperial Titans on the ground to cutting Tyranid hive ships apart. On top of the already massively powerful Necron weapons, the Skyhammer was now a Galaxy-spanning supercraft, feared by any that sought to engage Necrons in Spacecraft warfare.
"Vargard this is Skyhammer" came the gunner of the main weapon, obviously diverted by Nemesor Tokarn from the bridge. "Whaddya want me to shoot?"
"Building on hill, 100 metres to our North" interrupted Rephosus. "Level it, including the hill"
"Affirmative, locking now"
Looking at Rephosus, Caldrek asked what that was.
"What, I called a lot of Air Strikes in my Emperor's Children Scout days" answered Rephosus. Caldrek shook his head in disbelief. A moment later, a massive emerald energy shaft roared out of the cloud layer, making the immediate area around it illuminate bright green. The beam impacted the hill with the force of a meteorite. The building was reduced to a lot of molten slag that was thrown iinto the air, raining on the surrounding area. The hill was reduced to a crater, at the bottom of which was the top of a tunnel that had been busted open.
"How was that? I didn't hit you did I?"
"No, you didn't Skyhammer, you took out the target like you were supposed to" laughed one of the Praetorians. Caldrek ordered Skyhammer to reload and await furthur instructions. The Necrons walked down into the tunnel, and into the Tomb Complex.

"Hear me now, little mortals," Ulgot rumbled. "Father Nurgle has given this world the dubious honor of becoming a glorious Plague world, bristling with all the wonders and delights of His garden. Songs of praise will forever be shouted to the heavens of this achievement for all eternity. But as he is a caring God, Father Nurgle gives you a choice. You may leave orbit and spread the good news to your Rotting Imperium so that your Corpse Emperor may join him in Holy Union, or can become a part of this garden and accept whole-heartedly His loving embrace." As he finished, he hauked a globble of spit at the front lines. The saliva-coated projectile smacked into one of the walls. The ceramite hissed and sizzled as it was eaten away. "Your consent, of course, is not necessary," he added, chuckling with mirth and malice together. "You have one hour to give your response."

I moan as I place pressure on my leg its bad but not as bad as it was earlier. I hobble towards my kit at the bottom of my bed, I need to get dressed. The uniform has changed, to that of my adoptive regiment. Apparentley, the Tracryn 301st had never been to this world and been destroyed a year earlier. This had raised some questions as I had also been listed as MIA in the same year. In the end it was put down to a glitch in the system. I'd been cleared and adopted into the regiment, even allowed to keep my rank and get a squad. Once I get out of the field hospital that is...

"Going somewhere sergeant?" I turn, the doctor stands behind me eyeing me curiously. I smile walking towards him, trying to walk as normal as possible. I flinch from the extra pain that causes and I try desperatley to hide it.
"Yeah, just getting my stuff. Thinking of getting an early discharge. I mean, I'm not badly injured and will only take up your time when the more heavily injured start flowing in"
"Your not going anywhere, your leg could be broken for all we know and your not going to help by wakling around on it. Now get back to bed." My smile fades to a frown, I hate doctors, stubborn gits. I comply neverless. But, my mind still attempts to make escape plans. I will get the early discharge. My resolve only strengthens as the attack I knew was coming, hits home. I know broken leg or not, they're going to need me.

Gareva felt the of energy it was strange but nevertheless he followed it to the source, it was the twin-headed beast. He saw that Lynessa and the Young female warrior was there to.
"So I see we have been summoned. Why?" Gareva asked folding his arms.

"I have a task for you three, to maintain my Daemonic host while I am abstinent, they are currently approaching the Imperial resistance as we speak and may require some leadership while I attend to other matters, and try not to get them all banished back to the swirling vortex of the warp, and remember, Lynessa is my 2nd in command."

''Alright then people taking into account your loyalties i want you my love gareva to command the horrors, kaless my daughter of perverse light you need to go and strike fear in the hearts of the enemies, i will make sure blood reaper commands the bloodletters without doing something stupid.''

Atris was huddled up in her cell, bound and gagged. They saw her as a lunatic, an inhuman monster. No. A huge pounding came from the door, and the shutter flew up, letting in the bright lights of the corridor.

"Sameil'a! You got a mission!"

The custodian tossed a Lasgun and a knife through the shutter, telling her to get ready.

"Just follow my lead, OK?"

The door slid opened, and the shackled and tortured body of Atris plodded through it. The owner of the body was gone. As the custodian kicked at her feet, she was thrown into the barren wastes.

"I am Colonel Schaeffer, dogs. Show me what you've got."

Blood Reaper pulled himself over a barricade and swung his sword in unison with his fellow Bloodletters as they cut down bewildered Guardsmen in seconds, but a hail of Autogun and 'Hot Shot' Lasgun fire reduced several of the red hided Daemons to ash and flames, but the Guards own fire was met by Daemonic flames of purple, blue, and shades of colour unknown to mortal men, reducing some of the guard to skeletons or piles of gelatinous flesh. Blood Reaper rose from the ground and tore the head from a cut down Guardsman and held it in the air, screaming a bloody praise to Khorne before charging the Guard again, howling and screaming....

"Sounds like fun." With that, Kaless disappeared into the sky, shooting over the battle and watching all that was going on beneath her. It all looked like a normal enough battle, except... That Leman Russ had been destroyed from behind, yet it was facing the enemy and bearing chaos markings! And further in the direction from which it had been shot, far more dead cultists than anywhere else on the battlefield. And, now she looked closely, a sister of battle, a canoness, carving her way through them. Well then, let's end this.
Kaless landed silently about a hundred yards behind the sister of battle. She used basic illusion to hide anything unnatural about her other than the mark of slaanesh, Her wings and the aura of power surrounding the whip now invisible to all but psykers. Then she fired her bolt pistol, the shot bouncing off her enemy's armour as had been intended. Her enemy turned in a split second, fury in her eyes, ready to kill anyone. The canoness uttered the words "Die, chaos scum," before starting a full charge, only to stop short when Kaless removed the illusion and spread her wings, lifting herself a yard off the ground and raising her weaponry. "Are you ready to die, Sister, or do you wish to do the wise move and join the dark prince?"

Lynessa had teleported next to the bloodletters just before they charged again she bellowed towards them. ''Form up rows in ranks prepare to clash with the enemy, heavy hitters take the front blood reaper lead the charge i will be watching you, you may be daemons but i can still stick a powersword up in your arse! Now move it!'' Lynessa disappeared again reappearing behind a commissar. She took his head and ripped it off, the guardsmen only noticed when she threw his head towards them and with a seducing voice began speaking. ''Come get me if you want to'' And she let parts of her clothes disappear on purpose. ''Just as planned'' She thought as one guardsmen rushed towards her without hesitation, the power sword split him in two. The others opened fire on her but they never hit mark, she either disappeared or they where shooting at an illusion that never existed. She burned another three guardsmen using warp fire. ''now came the fun part'' She thought to herself she saw the guardsmen began getting scared, she unleashed the reality of the warp in their minds. They fell to the ground crying one even defecated himself.
''the work was done'' She thought when her chosen arrived armed with the whips she had ordered them to, They where the perfect taskmasters. She ordered the slaaneshi ones to move towards gareva to aid him but the tzeentchian sorcerers stayed with her. Their power enlarged by the dragon like her.

Blood Reaper grudgingly acknowledged the woman's bellows and swung his Hell Blade in precise and deadly weaves, slicing Guard apart with ease and watching as the Horrors began to spit and vomit Warp fire onto the slower Guard, the other Bloodletter's crashed into the Guard, shields raised and blades readied as they impaled and sliced the Guard into chunks of burnt flesh. Blood Reaper howled as a reloading Karskin looked up upon the mighty Khornate Daemon and struck him down, the strike splitting the man in two....

Sending his flaming fist through another guardsman's ribcage, Tarkus spins round to catch a second in the throat, the force of the blow nearly severing his head. Letting the two, gurgling men fall to the ground, he ducks under a salvo of autogun fire, not that he needed to, they were unlikely to harm him. With a daemonic roar, he lunges foward, the man's terrified face millemetres from his. The guard was deathly pale and shaking wildly, he would be no threat. Cackling madly, Tarkus spits on the man's face, the loyalist dog screaming as the red liquid burns through his skull and into his brain, twitching horribly as he slumps to the ashen ground. That was the last of the group. Too weak, he needed stronger prey, these humans were no danger.

Moving out of the camp's weak glow, he goes off back into the wastes, on the hunt for more creatures to decimate.

The legion had been marching non-stop since they left. Their feet bled. Schaeffer constantly had his gun placed at the back of Atris' head.

"They said to keep an eye on you, missy. You're going in first."

He chomped on his cigar, rolling it from side to side. They came to a verge, and the Colonel peered over.

"Target sighted, Atris. Die here or fight him."

She grasped her Lasgun.

Kaless struck out, but as she had expected the canoness was skillful and easily dodged before striking back with her sword, which was parried by the whip. They circled, each trying to gain an advantage, then the canoness struck, her sword going a perfect arc, splitting the image in two...
Kaless laughed as she flew down, letting go the invisibility that she had been using on herself since she had created that image. She kicked the canoness in the back of the head, but the opponent recovered quickly, swinging her power sword round, though Kaless was well out of its reach. Then the canoness fired her pistol, plasma missing her head by a small margin, before the canoness was forced to dodge retaliation fire herself. Then Kaless was flying in, dodging a stab and summoning chains to bind the Sister of Battle, but she resisted and the chains never came into existance. Then they were apart again, preparing for the next bout of this most deadly of games.

The sounds of battle are growing louder and I become more restless. I need to get out, I can't fail my mission. I sneak out of bed silently working my way back to my kit. Something tells me the doctor won't be back this time, probably dealing with the more urgent casulaties. I work myself into my kit quickly yet as quietly as possible. I holster my pistol, this had also been replaced for a newer version like my armour, and my sword, which is the same as always. I pick up my aquila amulet last, its a relativley small thing, yet its somehow not how I remember it. Its coating is shiny and new, yet the amulet itself seems old and battered scratches are worked across its surface, some show a hint of red. I can't quite remember where I had aquiried the amulet, it had been a gift, no an award for what I'm not quite sure. I give up trying to remember it doesn't really matter, I fasten it around my all to familiar neck. Now, how to get out of here.

I examine the room I'm in. Its small, with my bed, medical equipment and a table that housed my kit. It has a single window and a door. I try the door, only to find its locked. Great, the doctor must of guessed I would want to go for walkies... I examine the window more closley, it unlocked but I'm on the first floor. Great , I'm going to find it dificult escaping with my bad leg. I curse my bad luck, and the doctor even if its for my own good. I want to help! I go back to lying on my bed staring straight up at the ceiling as I formulate more plans to escape, my prison.

Atris leaped over the verge, plummeting to the stone platform below. Her Lasgun let off a few rounds, but they only sizzled against the skin of the Chaos warrior. He responded with a ferocious leap, his hand throwing Atris through the air. She coughed up blood and tried to wrench herself up

"God Emperor, you send more mere guard to face me?"

Barks Tarkus, laughing up into the gloomy sky, his fire-covered arms raised to the sky. Walking casualy over to the fallen guard trying to push herself up, he reaches down with hand. Grasping the woman by her neck, he lifts her up off the dusty ground. Chuckling madly, he draws her face close to his, his nostrils twitching as he smells the stench of her fear. Baleful eyes lit up with a baleful, red glow, he mutters to the woman.

"Any last words, Imperial?"

Atris didn't move. Her mouth was gagged and shackled. She turned her head to the executioner, the rest of her body remaining perfectly still.

A furious look on his face, Tarkus reaches down with his one free hand to rip the gag from the imperial's mouth, the fire momentarily dying down from the crimson claw. Leaning in closer he mutters again.

"Speak. I like to hear my prey's final words."

Atris clamped her mouth shut. No tears ran down her cheeks, no bitter seeds of terror lodged in her heart. Death was welcome to take her, she had nothing left to fight for. She simply stared at her attacker.

Raising one eyebrow, Tarkus chuckles slightly, forked tongue flickering from fanged maw.

"You're brave, guardswoman. Very brave, and I respect that. You remind me of someone I used to know, Imperial."

He says grinning, as he lowers the woman to her feet. With a pained grunt, his daemonic visage cracks and reshapes, a trickle of blood running from his nose as his face takes the form of a pale, shadow-eyed man.

"You seem familiar, I feel like I've seen you somewhere before. What is your name, woman?"

"Does it matter now? My name is Atris, there. Why would you care?"

Atris rolled onto her side. Blood still poured from her mouth.

"I'll die with dignity rather than fall to your demands."

Ve'Carr listened to the words of the Deamon outside. One hour, he thought, hmm. He went to the pilots of the stormtalons saying, " Go show Papa Nurgle what we really think of him." The pilots jumped in the talons, the five machines coming to life as they took off high in the sky.

Norax, the Captain of the Drake squad of fliers took them high in the air. " Alright men, three strafing runs, be fast, Nurgle isn't very fast. The fliers descended, bombarding the beasts, destroying the smaller deamons barely harming the large one. The other two went smoothely, but the leader was in no hurt. Norax and company returned to Ve'Carr.

Ve'Carr asked, " Is it gone?" Norax responded, " We're going to need something bigger."

Syrath's shadow covered the squad of unwary Guard, before the Daemon crashed down on them, reducing most of the puny mortals to a bloody paste, while the few who remained bones cracked and bodies shattered. Syrath chuckled as a quick swipe of his talons snuffed out the life from the humans and looked up to see a grizzly looking Astartes staring down at him from a roof top, the marines body covered by several rounds of ammunition and grenades, a Sniper Rifle was strapped to his back and in his hands lay a sawed-off Shot gun and in the other a small Power Sword. The Marine jumped down, crashing into the ground and stood before Syrath, the Daemon leered as Hunter arose, seething his Power Sword and Shot Gun he spoke in a hollow voice;

"Syrath, it has been a long time, I expected you to be on your throne as a broken husk, but here you stand before me. Tell me, did the Wolf escape, or was his last howl a painful one?"

Syrath's heads sneered, the sour lack of emotion and hatred in Hunters words pleased the Greater Daemon, and he still needed Hunter;

"The Wolf is dead, however I have a matter for you to attend to, spy on these three individuals, while they seem loyal, treachery is met by one thing and one thing alone. Report every 24 galactic hours and remember our deal 'Hunter', you'll get your money if you get the job done, unlike your partners."

Hunter's head jolted up, Syrath chuckled as he threw down a Marines helm, Hunter plucking it from the ground and studying it's cracked and rusted paint job. The rouge dropped it and moved towards Syrath;

"So, I'm guessing he didn't get the job done, well, Syrath, you should know I always get the job done."

And with those final words, a silent Hunter departed....

"Atris?...Oh Khorne, Atris? I couldn't kil you, why would I, it's you."

He says, stepping backwards, the fires covering his form instantly dying down, leaving his charred sergeant's uniform, a blackened badge hanging from his chestplate.

Kneeling besides the fallen guardswoman, he rolls her onto her back, a genuine smile crossing his face.

"Remember me?"

Gareva danced along the path of war his whip thrashing across flesh causing guardsmen to fall to the floor in utter pain.
"Come dance with me hahahahahahaha" Yelled in the heat of battle, behind him horrors throw fire balls at the foes ahead and the dying behind. Suddenly Gareva felt a slash down his back, it was a Commissar holding a power sword.
"oh that tickled" Gareva said laughing, his lash shot from his arm and wrapped around the Commissar and began to pull the Commissar towards Gareva, when they got to face contact Gareva opened his mouth of razor sharp teeth and bit down on the Commissar's head.
"MMMM I could taste the fear" Gareva said as he flung the corpse to one side.

The munitions from the Storm Talons blasted apart great rends into the plaugue army. When the smoke cleared, there were craters where they had detonated. The daemons paused to stare and contemplate what had happened. A tiny Nurgling struggled to climb out of one such crater. It lifted one fat arm out to its father, bleeding profusely from the stump of its waist, before it slowly scattered into dust before the wind. Then, Ulgot roared in disbelief and anguish.
"VERY WELL, THEN!" he barked. "YOUR SOULS WILL FOREVER ROT AND WRITHE IN PAIN AND SUFFERING!"
At once, several horns bellowed, signalling the long awaited attack. The Plague-bearers resumed their slow, ponderous march to the walls of the fortress, now howling and screaming in such unearthly voices. Flies began to pour in from every direction it seemed to harass with the defenders, and the ground which the walls stood cracked and green-ified and became ripe with terrible disease. Plague-swords waved in the air. The miasma of sickness increased and seeped through the cracks and ventilators to add their poisonous vapors to the flies. The Plague-Lord took lumbering steps until he was close enough to start hacking down plastasteel and concrete to dust with his massive weapon, creating a hole for which the others to go through.
"JOIN THE REST OF YOUR MISBEGOTTEN KIND IN DEATH!"

"I do not remember you. I don't affiliate with your dark gods."

Atris placed her hand on her hip and began to unbuckle her blade.

Stepping backwards, the fires around his form again ignite, making wisps of smoke rise into the dark air.

"I don't want to hurt you Atris. How could you not recognise me, me? Alustdor, iron serpents?"

He says, a jagged axe materialising in his ashen claw.

"Clearly you are lying. I do not remember anybody at all like you, and I knew a great deal of the Iron Serpents. Only a handful fell to your gods."

The blade slid off of Atris' leg and into her hand. She propped herself up on one arm, blood still pouring from her mouth.

"I lost everything that matters to me there."