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Chuckling slightly, he steps foward, throwing his axe to the dusty ground besides him.

"I did go a little crazy there."

He says grinning.

"Do you remember good o'l Tarkus?"

"What? How do you know?"

"How do I know Tarkus? Because I am him, Atris."

The sounds of battle are getting even louder now. I'm pacing now, ignoring the pain that it brings, I need to get out of here. I know someones coming before I hear it and I have about a minute to make a plan and put it in action. When the doctor enters, to check on me. He sees me apparently gone and the window agape. He rushes towards it wondering if I had actually been stupid enough to go out the window. I answer his question as I hope out behind the door, slamming it shut and locking it. The doctors is now hammering furiously on it, won't be long before someone comes. I simply walk out the main exit, ducking around corners whenever a suitably high individual comes round. My heart hammers furiously at every one of these encounters, while I refuse even to breath. I'm overjoyed when I can move again, although I still get a lot of pain trying to walk normally and draw as little attention as possible. Its not long before I reach the exit, that had been easier than I thought, they must be to busy with casualties. The frontline musn't be going very well. Hopefully, I can make some difference, for better or for worse.

"What?"

Atris levered herself up, blade still in hand. She placed one hand on his cheek.

"Is it really?"

"Yep."

He says smiling slightly.

"Veteran sergeant and all."

"Feth it, Tarkus. You're my enemy."

Atris lunged forwards with her blade.

Alphonsine had reached what looked like a cultist camp. She walked in, killing the guards at the gate. Eventually she was surrounded by a few chaos Astartes. She smirked as the fight began, chain axes whirling past, blocking and cutting them at the handle. Ducking and avoiding sonic fire, the missed blasts punching through the lesser cultists swarming at the fight. Turning she fired her plasma pistol at the weapon, ensuring they wouldn't get a second chance to try and hit her. Turning back to the enraged beserker now wielding the handle of his broken axe she thrusted her blade into his chest; hiding behind its back as she pulled out her blade and using him to shield incoming bolt fire. As his body dropped she weaved again through some more cultists before coming face to face with one of the noise marines she had disarmed. Ducking under a punch she thrust her sword up through the lower torso and out of the top of his head before levelling her plasma pistol and firing at another; exploding as it entered his chest then dropping lifeless. She felt a sharp pain come from her back, a sword bursting out from her chest then sinking back. She turned and fired at the attacker as she fell, two shots connecting with his head then the remaining missing as she continued to fire while falling. On the ground, it the mud with a faint trickle of blood coming out of the corner of her mouth she aimed at the fuel depot. "I told you my way always worked... Lily..." she fired, igniting the entire camp and leaving it as little more than a charred crater.

Side-stepping the swing of the sword, Tarkus quickly reaches down to the dusty ground, plucking up his serrated axe which instantly becomes wreathed in baleful flame.

"Everyone is my enemy here, Atris. You've made sure of that."

He says, a fanged grin crossing his face ear-to-ear as he swings his axe foward.

Atris' chest was torn asunder as the axe's huge head was swung through. Bones and muscle were destroyed as Tarkus attacked. Lasguns opened fire from the grassy verge, flying to and fro.

"I die serving my Emperor, not some false idol as you."

Atris staggered, then fell to the floor in a pool of blood. Tears ran in joy.

"I have nothing for you to take, Tarkus."

She began to chuckle.

Tarkus roars in pain as the las-bolts impact against his temporarily human form, the shots leaving blackened burns across his body and tattered uniform. With a Daemonic howl, he raises one hand towards the assailants, two of the guard instantly catching fire, screaming horribly as they fall to the ashen ground. Spinning round, he catches a charging man across the face with his axe, the weapon passing through his skull like a hot knife through butter. Looking down at the chuckling form of Atris, he reaches down with one burnt hand to grasp her by the shoulder, as he slings her over his shoulder. His axe dematerialising, he crouches down to pluck up her sword in his free hand, beheading another foolish guard with a casual swing. Half an autogun clip passing though his gut, the wounds re-knitting together slowly, he starts moving towards the area he thought closest to the edge of the ash wastes. Tilting his head slightly, and with a slight chuckle, he whispers into her ear,

"Nevermore."

I've reached the front lines now as I jump in the Imperial trench. The enemy is almost upon them, they start joining us in our trench. I fire my las pistol at them. The beam of light catches one in the head, as he jumps in. He goes spirling as he falls, hiting the ground face first already dead. One of the cultists comes at me, I raise my pistol, but he knocks it away. Before slashing at me with his blade, I step away from it, while deflect it with my sword. I manage to deflect it, but it still cuts a light gash across my stomach. I stumble backwards, my leg threatening to give way. I'm starting to really regret leaving the hospital, what use is one more dead body? I block another blow as it comes in, before I launch my own attack, elbowing the man in the face. Now it is his turn to stumble backwards as he spits up blood. I don't pause to mock like he did. I follow up my attack with another, going in high with my sword. He blocks it just in time, but I follow the attack up with another going in low, he blocks this one as well but he is now on the defensive. I rain down several more blows upon him before he finally gives way. He fails to bring his defensive up in time and I remove his sword hand, severing it cleanly at the wrist. He doesn't even have time to register the pain as my next attack goes for the head. The body stands for sevral moments before it falls, following the head thats already rolling across the floor.

Around me the melee continues and their is an ever growing amount of bodies both dead and wounded from both sides. Even more cultists are pouring in, this probably isn't going to end well for the Imperials. Its probably not going to end well for either side, not when I'm here. I begin using the techniques that Valkor taught me, willing my powers to come. A small flame flickers and grows, spreading through the trench, it engulfs both the combatants, Imperial and traitors. It doesn't differentiate and neither do I. They both can burn if my Lord Valkor wills it.

I'm shaking now from the power I have released as I will the flames to spread, I know I'm not going to be able to hold it much longer. The flames flicker and die, as I give in. I'm alone know both sides holding back from the destruction they have just witnessed. It wouldn't be long before both sides are back though. I'll have to leave now though. I move slowly through the blackened remains, I'm still shaking and my leg hurts like hell. It will be a while before I can release that much power again. I'm laughing now, its sound strange over the unnatural silence. Yet it comforts me, its sound soothing to my ears. I move away from the trench as the two sides reenter to resume their combat, the blackened trenches start turning red again. I don't care who wins, I no longer have any love for the Imperials or these ignorant fools. I'm moving away from the combat towards the ash wastes.

Kaless circled her enemy, who seemed now to be growing weak, though Kaless could feel Slaanesh's power keeping her going. Time to finish this, she thought as she came in on the offensive. Her opponent certainly had been powerful, but it was time for this to end. Dodging her opponent's blade, she brought in the whip, slightly faster than her enemy could react, and wrapped it round the neck of her former enemy. All that was left was a writhing body, before Kaless ended it with her bolt pistol. Time to find a challenge, she thought, flying off to find the leader of this sorry bunch of sisters, or at the very least a sergeant.

A short flight later she had been found, fighting her way through masses of cultists. Cultists are easy, let's see how you fare against a real opponent. She landed behind the enemy, seeing that this time she was up against a skillful opponent, and fired her pistol an inch above the enemy's head. The sister turned, and saw only another sister of battle, but with a mark of slaanesh on her cheek instead of the flower. An anger known to few was in her enemy's mind, she could tell that, and was immediately planning how to use it.

Lynessa opened a psychic link towards the dragon. ''My lord how much blood needs to be spilled before you get blessings by the god of blood? Because we can bring loads more of blood for the sacrifices.'' lynessa disappeared reappearing next to blood reaper, she shouted orders again. ''Form up in column formation prepare to move towards the enemy command post if anyone is slacking you will be banished!''

The explosion in their camp had come as a surprise, but Kaless had been twenty feet in the air when the shockwave hit her, and had had a psychic shields around her. She was knocked to the ground and had a broken wing, but as with all blessings of the chaos gods, that would heal in a relatively short time.

Lynessa felt the shock come it was the pain kaless felt, she directly teleported towards her she took the sister with her back to the frontlines she held her close to her and was muttering words to comfort her.

A faint glow came from within the crater. Different than the glow emanated by the flames somehow, a calming light.

All of the guard who had attempted to stop him had long been outpaced or killed, their attacks had had barely any effect on him. They were very near the edge of the ash wastes, he could tell as it was slightly colder here. He had been near here before and knew there was a small renegade camp nearby, an imperial outpost that had been overwhelmed by the traitors amongst their own ranks. They might be able to do something, their medics were not crude butchers like those of the cultists, nor the maniacs of the chaos astartes. He regreted what he had done, but she had left him no choice.

"Lyenessa, pile the dead in pits of fire, and set them alight, I will attend to Kalless, and continue the assault until their backs are broken."

Syrath breaks the link as he stands over the I juried Kalless, he kneels down and places a skeletal hand on her head, her forehead glows as her mark of Syrath burns bright, the girl arches up as Syrath heals her broken wing and battered flesh. He pulls his hand back as she arches up, but Syratth left head moans as more flesh is stripped from the bone;

"Do not force me to do that again, it requires my own essence to do such a thing."

The light had been steadily growing brighter before erupting in another explosion. Alphonsine took to the sky on wings born of the light. Sheathed in the light she looked down at the traitors gathering below.

"Fallen sister, I dearly hope you shall find the Emperor's peace" her voice boomed. Her expression was of solemn disgust.

The glowing sister was grabbed from behind, a black shadow of magical darkness swapped down and lobbed her to the ground as it landed. Syrath's twin heads rose up and let up a howl as it unleshed a torrent of magical bolts towards the Sister;

"You shall die here wretch!"

Alphonsine smirked as she stood up. The blasts pattering against the light that surrounded her like tiny pebbles in a pond. She grabbed the beast by the throat, where it touched her light it burst into flames. "I am dead". She tightened her grip, ripped off one of the heads then threw it at the fallen sister.

"Argghhh!"

Syrath wailed and screamed, his little flesh running like water as it tried to repair the damage caused by the sister. Syrath's neck sealed together and a bolt of flame spurted from his mouth, shatteiring one of the Sisters wings and allowing Syrath to retreat away as his flesh mended itself. Syrath's growled and unleshed a torrent of pure change, sending the Sister crashing into the ground as he rose up once again.

Atris hung limp over the shoulder of Tarkus. She was completely still. No more blood pumped through her body, no more air rushed to her lungs. She was seemingly asleep, never to wake up again. She had passed away over half an hour ago, forgotten amongst the many martyrs of the Imperium. A smile ran across her bloodstained face.

Atris was free.

The wing flickered back to shape nigh instantly, as it was made of the very light surrounding her. The magic knocked her to the ground, but was weakened enough to cause no further damage. She flew at the beast and swung her sword; sending an arc of golden light cleaving both the ground and the beast's second head. Assuming it was dead, Alphonsine flew into the air. Only one thing was on her mind.

Syrath crashed into a building, he moaned and whined as his flesh neatly re-nit itself to allow him to walk again. His head snapped back together as he forced his way out of the building and his second head began to reform, a stub of a neck emerging from his torso as the Daemon stumbled away, wings folded into his back...

Gareva dropped into the trenches of the guardsmen but he saw one woman, she was not a guardsmen and she was trying to escape.
"Hmm where does she think she is going?" Gareva said, looking at the woman but using his flamer to scorch the whole trench, the screams of the dying echoed. Gareva began to follow her, she was heading towards the Ash Wastes.

Alphonsine decided she'd fly back to the Imperial Fortress. She hadn't much time left so she had to make the most of it.

2

Her breath had stopped minutes ago, her heartbeat with it. Surely someone could help? someone had to, Atris couldn't die, not her. A blank loom on his face, he slowly lowers her limp body to the ground, the flames upon his back slowly blazing back into life as he quickly kisses her cheek. Turning around silently, he walks silently away from the scene, axe clutched in ashen claw and heads foward, where to, he knew not.

With a great daemonic howl, he breaks into a sprint, face contorted into a horrific snarl.

Syrath felt the rage of another being, a smirk arose on his face, and with a greater howl, another three heads grew and rose into the air as they unleshed a soul wrencthing hour to contact the being;

"Come to me.